#i also just really want to know about this shopkeeper now | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

coffee-and-tea-time · 4 months ago

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𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖ Out of the menu, still the choice ๋࣭ ⭑

Yandere! Shopkeeper x Willing! Reader

We finally got a winner! *Clap clap* if you want context, you can go here but it's not that necessary we think - the twins

This mf was really more hard to write that I expected but nevertheless we tried to match the energy of the seller pickers so at least it was really fun ngl - Coffee

It took us both a while to draft what we wanted to write for him since he's not a very expressive character and we wanted to try a more subtle approach. If you have any ideas or suggestions for any of them, let us know!! -Tea

Count word: 3.1k (new longest post for now)

Tw: yandere behavior, kind of flirty reader, stalking, kidnaping?, written in you/yours, overall soft yandere, gaslighting, drugging (this really still counts as soft yandere??? believe me, yes), light paranoia, clueless reader

Your eyes scan the papers in your hand, your mind still focused rather on the man that handed you them, sitting right across from him, more specifically, the comment he just murmured. None of the people he mentioned called your attention as much as himself did, perhaps he was more that he presented himself as? He seemed to know much more about you than he’s supposed to, so, was he a yandere as well? And if so, Why miss the chance to tease a potential yandere?

"Huh, so you think I should go out more often?"

"Well, I'm just concerned about your vitamin D intake, that's all. You need more sun Dear, for the sake of your health"

He smugly smirks at you like he's saying obvious facts that you should already know about yourself… though his smirk falters, his lips pressing into a tight line as he rethinks his words, though it was too late to retract them, it was your time to shine.

"Oh? Then why not help me with that yourself? You seem to keep a good track of my time outside for some reason, care to explain yourself, Honey?"

You steal his previous smirk, it now decorating your lips, curving them upwards smugly as he seems to sink into himself, his pen flipping between his fingers as a nervous fidget, scanning your expression, seemingly trying to understand what you were attempting to do with these witty remarks.

“Dear, allow me to remind you, you came all the way here to have an obsessive partner after you walk out this door, I'm sure anyone in the list will love to fulfill the job, sadly, I'm not one of them, I'm deeply sorry if my previous comments left any space for this misunderstanding"

He seems to lifts up a wall between you and him with his formality as if attempting to keep things formal and cordial though his eyes tell a different story, his eyes, akin to a snake’s narrow slightly, scanning your features as if daring you to continue this charade; a sweet chill runs down your spine, which only widens your smile further.

"Ow, come on, there's no need to lie so blatantly to my face, you know exactly why I'm here, and for that I can also tell exactly what is happening here”

He huffs, his fingers running through his black hair, messing up his slick back hairstyle into something much more fitting to match with his semi-formal attire.

"As I just said, I'm not a yandere, let's stop this little game, Dear, I’m not sure how you arrived at this conclusion, little detective…"

Those gray eyes glare at you without even missing a beat, narrowing further to make a subtle warning: quit fooling around. Do you care? No, honestly, him staring down at you only serves to fuel your burning curiosity about the man.

"Fine then, at least answer me this, how did you know i don't go out much?"

The man scoffs as if the answer was as obvious as looking in a mirror.

"Come on now, you are chronically online, I just made a lucky guess"

… Gotcha

"My screen time is something even weirder for you to know for certain though, don't you think?"

A silence ensues, tension and realization thick in the air as his posture changes completely, from relaxed and smug to tense and anxious, he leans forward, eyes avoiding you suddenly, like he wasn't piercing you with his stare just a few seconds ago.

You let your question linger, knowing you won, knowing he had no way to protest your question seamlessly

"... don't tell management"

It was now your turn to sigh. Perhaps he was being truthful and this was just a big misunderstanding. Maybe his “background check” on you wasn't something he was supposed to do ethically speaking, but something he felt compelled to do. Then again, they did have this incident with a fool attempting to illegitimately make a yandere harem. Perhaps it was time to let this go, you tried at least, but being overly pushy could get you kicked out and leaving empty handed wasn't something you were willing to do after finally finding the courage to enter the shop.

"Well, I don't know, I choose Oliver"

You said, the smirk in your lips faltering into a soft defeated smile, shrugging as you chose someone at random, pointing blindly at the papers.

"He's already purchased"

He counters your response abruptly, his tone still formal yet with an air of defensiveness. You wondered, if he was already purchased, then why show it to you at all?

"Damn, okay, then Lio…"

You quickly point again at a random profile, barely even reading the name then scanning his expression, his head shaking even before you managed to pronounce the name fully.

"Sorry"

He responded with a shrug, his shoulders relaxing as if the tension he felt before was gone.

You smile at him once again, well, thankfully you weren't just flirting with the wrong target.

"You’re doing this on purpose"

You announce, amused by the realization, a smile widening in your lips as one seems to simultaneously tug at the corners of his, a mischievous grin adorning his sly stare, those eyes bearing into yours like a wicked fox.

"You choose me, be loyal to your own decisions… though, really, don't tell management. I do maintain I'm not some sort of obsessed maniac, Dear"

That's the most suspicious thing a person can say in a yandere shop but you take it.

"I care next to nothing about management… so, it's a date?".

(...)

You leave the store, hands empty, but not really. You walk with an extra cheer in your step, you managed to get yourself a date with the seller of the damn shop, not one of the many names in those papers, but the shopkeeper, talk about a plot twist.

And so you make your way back home, waiting for the time to arrive, the time in which you'd meet up with the man outside of work in a sweet little restaurant down the same street where the shop is located. As you get yourself ready, checking your outfit, double checking…triple checking, your mind drifts to your conversation with the seller and the way everything he said seemed to avoid each and every one of your questions skillfully. You managed to get his number with the excuse of arranging the meeting time and place, yet… that was all, you didn't even get his name, did you?.

You are brought back to reality with the buzzing of your phone, a notification from an unknown number… though it was the sellers, how did he get your number? Sure, he gave you his, but he shouldn't have a way to contact you yet, that information wasn't even in the paperwork either since you never filled any forms out, you didn't purchase any of the yanderes.

» “Hey, it's the shopkeeper”

You raised a brow at your screen, watching as the little dots bobbed up and down, indicating he was still typing another message

» “just checking if you're still up for this date you so boldly proposed. My shift is over”

His texts are a little dry, yet you can feel the awkwardness from them already, he wasn't fooling anybody, he was nervous as hell.

You quickly type up a response, resuming your teasing over text like you never left the shop and so you text back and forth until the time arrives and you leave your home, walking down the street to the restaurant he sent you the location to. Once you got there, amusement tugged your lips up into a smile. This man, acting so unapproachable, so closed off, was eagerly waiting outside the restaurant with that classic “I'm just looking at my phone” stance, but damn he looked good.

He wasn't wearing that semi-formal suit from before, but rather a tight black shirt, jeans and a jacket. His hair was down and you had to admit, it looked way better that way. You check the time on your phone, you arrive just in time, you look relieved but can’t help but wonder how the seller managed to close up shop, go back home, change and arrive before you when his last text was just a few minutes ago telling you his shift was over.

“aw, you arrived early to meet me? It’s so cute how eager you are for someone who didn't even tell me his name”

You meet his gaze as you approach him with a playful demeanor, his smile still decorating his face as always.

He huffs, glancing up from his phone, his eyes crinkling in a mischievous grin. He pockets his phone and adjusts his jacket, leaning a little closer as he speaks

“Oh, Dear, you got it all wrong, i just got here, but, i must say…waiting would have been worth it, you look stunning”

He said with a soft chuckle and you nudged his shoulder in response to his compliment, though as you nudge him you feel how cold his jacket is, of course he didn't wait for you

“Right, anyways, you know, it's only fair that I get your name. I know you so desperately want to seem all mysterious and shit, but i need to know who I'm flirting with”

You tease bluntly with a chuckle, he tenses up a little, looking away for a second, trying to disguise his blush by rolling his eyes at you.

“I suppose you could call me Jade…”

“Well, jade, pleasure to meet you”

You said trying to imitate his tone of voice as he guides the way inside the restaurant.

“Since I answered your question, it's only fair you answer mine, don't you agree?"

His gaze seems like he's taking notes of your every expression as he gently pulls a chair for you to sit on before he sits across from you.

"Are we doing a little bit of banter here? Huh, that's quite the contrary of what you been doing all day, but please, go on, I'm thrilled to know what you wish to know of me"

His eyes move to the menu, although you can say his entire focus was still on you… because of the fact he can't possibly read the menu when it's upside down.

"So, if I may ask… why did you choose to flirt with me when you came to the shop to get yourself a yandere?"

"Why not? You could say I went there to find someone that catches my eye, and jokes on you, my eyes were set on you the moment you opened that door to guide me into the store"

You restrain yourself not to giggle like a fool when the top of his ears turns red while he's attempting to keep his perpetually smiling facade, oblivious to his own reaction to your words.

"Then, do yo-"

His words quickly die on his throat as a waiter gets to your table, you didn't have the time to catch the small twitch of his eyebrows that lasted a second.

"Good evening, I will be your server for the night, what can I get started for you two?"

As you two order normally, you can't help but feel a sense of discomfort as the waiter always speaks focusing his eyes on you, but Jade doesn't seem to react so you dismissed it, you're only feeling weird because of the awkwardness of being on a first date, although you can't help but sigh faintly with relief after the server walks away.

"Well… anyways, since I replied to one of your questions, guess it's my turn!"

You said smiling, trying to brush off the weird feeling you just had, focusing on your task in hand: the date.

“so, why don’t you tell me a little about your hobbies?”

You gaze at him while his head tilts slightly, as if doubting if to reply or just dodge the question like the past ones.

“Well, they differ depending on the time, I’m the type of person that get a new one every once in a while but one that has stuck since high school is embroidery”

Honestly, you can picture it, he does seem like the type of person who enjoys calm classy hobbies, old lady hobbies if you will. The image is sort of endearing.

"Since high school? Wow, what was your first piece?"

You feel relieved that he seems more open to conversation now that you both are formally on this date. Sadly for you and lucky for him, you focused so much on listening to his answers that you didn't catch the small blush dusting his cheeks.

"...It was a skull, edgy, I know. I really like how it turned out back then though”

“A skull? Very edgy indeed, why-”

Your question was left hanging in the air as an arm interfered with your vision of Jade, the waiter placing your plates on the table with a polite smile. The interjection was a little awkward, but there's not much you can do about it, the waiter is just doing his job.

Though as you lower your voice to a stop, interrupted by the waiter, you see the slight hint of annoyance in Jade’s face flick for a second just to disappear like it never happened, it makes you wonder if that was a hint of jealousy? It probably wasn't… your yandere rotten brain must be seeing things, right?

As you two indulge in conversation, enjoying your little date, you almost lose track of time. It feels like in the blink of an eye, the date was already at its final point, the only thing that popped your bubble was his phone ringing.

"...sorry, it's my boss, allow me to step out real quick, it won't take long I'm sure"

You nod to him before he makes his way to the restroom to pick up the call. Honestly you feel kind of sad that the dinner was reaching its end but well, you can't be that clingy on the first date.

As you ponder between when and where the perfect second date will be or if it's best to wait for him to ask for another, the waiter interrupts your thoughts, placing a glass of what looks like raspberry juice on the table.

"Excuse me sir, I didn't order this"

The waiter gives you a puzzled expression as if it were a competition who is more confused by the situation but is quick to giggle as if it was an inside joke of his before reassuring you.

"Oh, don't worry, it's already been paid”

You didn't have time to ask further questions when the busy server was already on another table that needed him, well, it looks tasty anyways, why reject something when it's free?

You honestly feel like luck is on your side today; you got the confidence to try and flirt with Jade and successfully get yourself a really good date! And you also get a free drink as a way to celebrate your little achievement, so you take a big gulp.

Huh? Weird, you know the taste of raspberry by heart, why does it taste more bitter? Ugh, the fruit is probably not that fresh , even the consistency feels a little thicker too. Well, raspberry juice is supposed to be like that, perhaps you got too used to store bought and got yourself confused.

"Well, is not like a restaurant would sell 'expired juice' as their main drink, surely I'm just overthinking it"

You reason with yourself in a whisper as you set the drink aside, ugh, maybe you drank too big of a sip, you start to feel like you got brain freeze or something.

(…)

“Dear, are you feeling well? Do you need to go to the restroom?”

The sound of his relaxed voice quickly fills your ears, your mind feels hazy but you nevertheless try focusing on him as he sits back down to the table, catching his expression changing from the usual laid back grin to a worried frown. You didn't even notice when he came back from his work call, not until he was right in front of you, it's like time passed while your brain was stopped, something wasn't good…

"Did something happen? Do you need a pain-killer? Did the food upset your stomach?"

The rapid fire questions overfill your already overwhelmed mind as his hands hold your shoulders before he places his forehead against yours to check your temperature and although you tried, your currently unstable self only managed to hardly mumble some words.

"I… don't know, I just drank that"

You focus your gaze on the glass of juice and he follows your gaze with a frown as if his laid back mask is cracked.

"the color is slightly off and ice is only floating up to the middle of the glass…"

Was there really something wrong with your drink? What was in there? How bad is it? What's going to happen to you? Was it the waiter? Was there someone in the restaurant you didn't see? Why is this happening today?

"Dear, focus on me, okay? Don't worry, you're fine, just dizzy, I will make sure you are okay, alright? Take a deep breath for me darling"

Through your dizziness you watch as he moves skillfully and quickly, paying the bill as fast as he could to take you out of there, his arms tightly wrapped around you to steady your wobbly stance, guiding you out of the busy restaurant. It's almost as if you were drunk, which didn't make sense, you felt yourself slipping further out of your senses, sounds muffled and your vision blurry, your legs and hands feeling tingly with each step you took with his assistance.

"Jade, I-"

"Don't worry Dear, I will take care of you, just trust me, alright?"

You can help but feel grateful that even in this awful situation, you managed to have someone so gentle and caring with you, but before you can try to babble a thank you, you feel your mind shut off like an old tv… don't worry, you are being taken care of, Dear.

He just wants to look after you, it would be so creepy if he left you unconscious at your place since he's not supposed to know your address yet, so, guess the only choice is him letting you crash at his apartment, it's fine, you will find yourself at home there, it's really cozy!

. . .

Wait, did you really believe him? That's kind of hilarious, try guessing again.

sorry for any misspellings or weird sentence structure ❣

images from pinterest and divider by Tea ⚘

441 notes · View notes

littlenahsstuff · 2 months ago

Note

hii! Can you please do Rio Vidal x fem reader? Witb the enemies to lovers plot pleaseee, maybe where y/n is also a witch and they start a fight but at the end start making out? Similar to the scene with Agatha from the 1st episode

Up to No Good

Sorry these requests are taking so long!

This is a shopkeepers AU

Warnings: Like one Major Spoiler!!! for Agatha All Along, sickness, a little bit of vomiting, Reader is going through it! Not proofread so ignore the plot holes and mistakes.

Synopsis: Rio is the annoying shop-owner next to yours. She’s constantly bothering you and making your life a living hell but you can’t deny you have feelings for her. What happens when you find out not everything is as it seems.

Word count: ~4k

There you were, standing outside, gawking at the new store next to yours. It was massive compared to your tiny shop. You almost couldn’t believe someone would have the gall to put it there, but you could see why they were confident. This new shop had everything you had and more. It was pure madness. This new witch, Rio, wasn’t someone to be messed with. She had basically set up shop overnight.

You were frantic, it was the end of her first week in Salem and you had only gotten ten customers. Sure there were window shoppers, but they quickly moved on to the next one when they saw the floating lamps and the books that turned themselves in Rios display.

It got to the point where you had to rent out your apartment while you slept in the back room of your store.

Back at your store, you were lost in thought, trying to come up with cost-effective ways of advertising and special merchandise that could draw others in. You didn’t notice the bell ring, signaling someone had entered.

“Um, hello?” You had nearly fallen off your step-ladder.

You grab the shelf to steady yourself and step down. “Oh hi there, s-sorry about that. How can I help you?” You look up and are almost knocked off your feet again at the sight of the most gorgeous woman you’ve ever seen. She had piercing eyes, rich dark hair and all around looked like a goddess.

“Well, I was just scoping the store out. Not sure I need anything though,” she smiles at you. You return it.

“Just let me know if you need help. We have anything from talismans to herbs. Everything is locally and/or humanely sourced,” you say, setting down the last of the stock. You brush off the invisible dust on your apron.

The woman hums… “Tell me more about the store,” she decides. You contemplate what you could possibly tell this gorgeous woman.

“Well, it was given to me my grandmother. It was originally just a ‘holistic’ store but now that everyone’s more accepting of witches in Salem, I changed the name. I want to make her proud, she taught me everything I know. I love my job,” you finish with a smile. She returns it. The more you look at her the more you see something sneaky in her stare. She has a mischievous glint.

“What a story. I feel like I should buy something now. Makes me want to make your grandma proud too,” she smirks, roaming around the store.

“Well you don’t have to but I’m certainly not saying no. Have a look at anything. If you’re interested in the item but are wondering if we have it in a different color we definitely do,” you chirp. You yourself make your way to the counter. You can’t help but feel giddy.

You watch as her eyes light up. You can’t see what she’s bringing up to the counter but from the looks of it it’s one of your custom sigil pendants.

“Here, I’ll take this,” she holds it out. You can definitely tell she’s flirting now, the rune she picked was a love rune and she shows it to you with a wink.

“Oh, got anyone… special, you plan to use this for? Like maybe a spouse or an estranged sibling. Any kind of love really,” you note, ringing it up. She smirks.

“Well, I’ve got my eye on someone I’ve recently met,” she purrs. You blush, not wanting to read into it just in case but flustered simply from hope.

“Oh nice” you say.

She frowns, still with a playful glint harbored in her eye. “Unfortunately,” she takes the rune, “I gotta go back to my own shop.” Your eyes widen.

“Oh you own one too? That’s cool… cool! Um, see you around?” You hate to admit how much it sounds like a plea. She gives you a nod and leaves. You could swear she’s exaggerating the sway of her hips. “Bye,” you murmur.

“Bye.”

You can’t help but watch to see in the direction she goes, thinking maybe her shop is close by. And you’re right it is, but much to your surprise, she walks right into your biggest competitors shop.

“That bitch!” You grit out.

***

It’s been another week of poor sales and you’re getting nervous. The stress, coupled with you having to sleep it in the back on the floor has been horrible on your back. There’s a resentful part of you that believes Rio came in here to mess with you. It certainly seems so with the fact she’s come in about 3 other times. You curse yourself for getting so worked up about it but you literally told her about your fucking grandmother. You were only a simple potions witch, you couldn’t magic up money like some of the other witches out there. Hell, Rio probably could. Stupid sexy Rio.

As if she could sense you were thinking of her she walks in smug.

“Howdy neighbor,” she tromps in like she fricking owns the place. Your gut boils at the fact she very well could in less than a year if you can’t figure out a way to fix this mess.

“What do you want Rio…” you say. Her eyes widen as much as her grin does.

“Thought I’d come by to check on my new best friend.” Her tone is almost sadistic. You scoff.

“Sure best friend. Just remember that when you’re in my store you can’t do anything funny,” you spit out. Her hands go up in surrender, but her face remains smug.

“Of course, I can let you be in control,” she says it low, something that makes your heart beat uncomfortably fast.

“Whatever… how’s it going with the love rune, I’m sure they’re charmed,” you exaggerate, stretching your words.

Rio puts the back of her hand to her forehead and leans backwards dramatically with a drawn out sigh.

“Alas, I don’t believe it’s achieved its purpose quite yet. It will; now’s just not a good time.” You fight the urge to role your eyes but it’s replaced by a yawn. Rio returns to her normal position and stares at you.

“Did princess not get enough beauty sleep,” she coos, pouting.

“I’m fine. I hope whatever your situation is works out so you don’t have to bore yourself with little old me.” You don’t mean it truly but boy do you need a little alone time without a failed crush gloating via very annoying body language.

“Nonsense, our little chats are entertainment to me.” She says. You grunt.

“Righttt, okay you do know I can kick you out if you don’t buy anything right?” Your brow arches. She laughs.

“Of course, I’m a shop owner too. You know that silly,” she boops your nose and you fight the rage coming over you. “Oh my god you’re cute.”

“Get out!” You growl, pointing at the door. You feel like ripping some of your hair out at this point. And Rio can tell, she’s just biting her perfect lip enjoying your frustration and it just infuriates you more. “No seriously you need to leave!” You throw your arms in the air and regret it, the twinge in your back making you wince. Rios smile falters ever so slightly.

“Didn’t mean to make you so worked up,” she chuckles. You sigh and put one hand on your back and the other pinching your nose.

“Just- I need to go get something in the back, please have left before I come back,” you (and Rio) hate how defeated you said that. Rio never feels bad for being her fun self… but, she might not feel great about this. You leave slowly to the back, cracking the door. Once Rio hears the telltale sound of a pill bottle she decides she should give you space.

When you come back out you’re a little confused at the pang you get in your chest when you don’t see her.

***

You were miserable, sick and miserable. But, the show must go on.

Time flew by in some increments and went painfully slow in another. You were debating closing the store today but your most recent electricity bill told you that isn’t a good idea.

Since it was the weekend you made a whole 20 sales, something you were extremely proud of. You were surprised too, considering you felt absolutely disgusting and maybe a little loopy. Perhaps it was the new promotion deal you worked on.

You decided to stock the merchandise that was selling the fastest, and of course once you turn your back that’s when the viper strikes.

“Hey bestie!” A voice rings out. You whip around and get dizzy, stumbling. Rio steadies you. “Woah there.”

“R-Rio?” You say.

“You don’t look so good there Y/n, maybe you should take a b-“

“No!” You interrupt, “I’m doing so well today you can’t stop me now you little devil,” you sneer. She chuckles. It’s supposed to come out threatening but your stuffy nose doesn’t exactly help you achieve that. Rio smiles.

“Well, not exactly. And I certainly understand why, you’re practically giving away free merchandise.” She says, tilting her head.

You puff out your chest with pride. “Yeah well I buy one get two for five deal will do that.” Rio pats your shoulder.

“Oh, uh, honey, your deal out front says buy one get five for two.” Your eyes widen and you scramble outside. Sure enough she’s right. After inspecting the writing it clearly wasn’t tampered. It seems that you weren’t even paying attention and you didn’t notice. You put it in the system as five for two as well.

“No no no no no!” You screech, taking down the sign. “Shit, oh my god. How did I- how did I not notice! No wonder people came up to me with so many friggan candles.” You run your hands in your hair. And go back inside, putting the closed sign up.

“Maybe you should sit down.” You agree and put your head in your hands with a groan.

“Are you here to gloat?” You ask, afraid of making eye contact.

“No… do you seriously not have anyone to help you run the store?” She asks coming closer to you. You shake your head. While you’re looking away you miss the genuine concern on her face. Without asking permission, Rio holds the back of her hand to your forehead. “You’re burning up, where do you keep your illness remedial potions? Have you even taken anything?” Her questions make you feel dizzy and you genuinely feel like you’re gonna vomit.

“Third shelf up to the right by the window,” you say drowsily. You’re too out of it to see the way Rio rushes to get it. The pain in your forehead seems to grow with each passing minute. The pain relievers for your back have stopped doing their job but you can’t remember the last time you took one regardless. She comes back. You gag as she hands it to you but you push it away and grab the trash can. Rio winces as you vomit.

“Oh shit…” she says. “Y/n as your bestie I got to say, I’m a little worried about you not taking care of yourself.” Her voice is abnormally soft. You can’t help but cry, partially due to the burning in your throat, partially due to the pent up emotions and the fact that the person making your life hell is being so nice to you.

“Why, why are you being so nice, you should be having a blast. Just my luck,” you hurl again, “Business has been really bad and on my good day I’m violently ill. It’s still objectively bad too, five months ago I’d get 20 sales before noon. And all of it’s because I fucked up.” Rio is stunned, she’s never been good with many emotions but she feels awful and knows she has to do at least something. She holds your hair back. She’s regretting this elaborate plan.

“Hey, hey. It’s gonna be okay. You’re clearly in a lot of pain right now, you don’t deserve to be mocked at all.” And her words only make you feel worse. If you think about it, she’s never been a hundred percent awful at you. You actually really really liked her up until you found out who she was. It was her business that was causing all these problems.

“I’m sorry, you should go. You- I can take care of myself,” you sigh. Everyday it looks like you’re gonna have to sell the store more and more. You’re terrified. You think that it’s all your fault that you took your grandmothers beautiful store and ruined it. You were a shit witch, and shit at your job in your opinion. Rio bit her lip and stared at you.

“No, no… tell you what. I’ll leave you alone but you have to promise me that you’ll take care of yourself. And your grandmother is so proud of you. She says so all the time.” She says and you’re mostly grateful. The pang in your chest returns again at the thought of you leaving. You realize she said something weird though.

“What, my grandmother is dead… are you also a medium which? I thought you were a green witch?” You say, picking up your head.

She looks to the side and let’s go of your hair. “Um… sure, let’s go with that. Anyways, I’ll leave you to it,” she stands up, “and take care of yourself missy.” She finishes in her usual mocking tone. She leaves out the door soon after.

Your left there confused before you see the potion. You remember you need to take it and you down it, gagging at the flavor.

“I have got to invest in flavor drops.” You say.

***

It’s been awhile since you’ve seen Rio. Her store’s also been closed for a couple of days. You should be ecstatic but you have to admit it’s been lonely without her popping in to bother you. On the bright side business was back to usual and you were making enough money to actually pay your bills again, the renters check wouldn’t come until next week but you might have enough to spring for an actual mattress.

You were honestly worried about Rio, worried you made her feel so uncomfortable she’d avoid you forever. You couldn’t sleep because of this thought and stumbled out of the back room in the dark. You managed to crash into a mop bucket and trip into one of your shelves causing it to crash and for all of your potions to shatter.

“Fuck!” You yell, you try and get to the light and manage to cut your foot.

Rio didn’t have to sleep, she stayed late at the shop looking over everything over and over. She was getting bored when she heard the crash coming from your shop. She quickly runs out the door to your shop, thinking someone broke in. She doesn’t need you having any more problem. She feels awful for the ones she caused. The door unlocks with a waive of her hand and just as she opens the door you flick on the light showing everything in its chaos.

“Uh, hi,” you awkwardly chuckle, wincing at the sting of your cut and the bruises that were already forming. “Good to see you”

Rio stands in confusion at the sight of your limping form in your tank top and lacy sleep shorts. She has to fight the urge to lick her lips.

“Are you…. Are you sleeping in your store?” She asks and you sigh, dropping the awkward smile.

“Yeah, I had to rent out my apartment on extremely short notice and now I live in the back room.” You have no clue why you’re being so honest but you really need to sit down as standing on your one foot is getting really tiring.

“Crap, you’re hurt,” she notices (originally it was because she was taking her eyes over you in your skimpy sleepwear glory) and goes over to you. She casts a spell and heals your injury. She waves her hand to get rid of the mess too and any other glass.

“Thanks.” You say. A beat of silence passes. “Why are you here?” You ask, suspicious.

“Well I thought someone was breaking and entering and I can’t have my bestie getting robbed. You roll your eyes, silently grateful she’s back.

“Alright. Um thanks. Yeah…” you trail. Now that she’s in front of you, you decide enough is enough. You have to tell her the truth. “I don’t want to put you on the spot but business has been really bad up until you closed your shop for the past few days. So- I live here now. I can manage into next month but I might have to sell the store. I guess what I’m asking is- would it be possible to get a job at your store when I do?” You felt awful about asking her for this, and you fully expect her to say no. She gives you a smile.

“I’m um, I’m actually closing the store.” She suddenly says and your eyes go wide. You stammer in protest,

“W-wait why? What about your employees!? You’re not moving away are you?” Your concern makes her smile bigger, confusing you more.

“Well… to tell you the truth I didn’t need it at all and it was interfering with my actual job.” She admits, enjoying the puzzled look on your face.

“What actual job?” She isn’t quite sure how to approach it, nevertheless, she tries.

“I’m death. I know it sounds ridiculous but I’m actually death, that’s me.” She says. A grin breaks out on her face.

“You’re joking” you start laughing and while she loves your laugh she’s not joining and you stop. “You- YOU’RE DEATH!” She waves her hands.

“Surprise! Um yeah, anyways, so funny story actually. Remember when I said your grandmother talked about you all the time. Well basically… we’re besties too,” she sees the shock on your face grow bigger and bigger. She’s about to make it worse.

“You know her, as in you took her once she died and you became best friends?” You interrogate. It doesn’t make much sense. She rolls her eyes.

“It’s not like I killed her and she’s funny. She basically talked the world of you. And she was worried about you, said you were lonely single and sad” Rio pouts briefly before her grin returns, “so she sent me. And I personally agree with her. But I’m single too so I thought I could do something about it.”

Your head is reeling, Rio is death and the only good thing about this is that your grandmother is happy (for the most part) and that the crush you’ve been trying to ignore because she’s been destroying your life reciprocates.

“Let me get this straight… you are ‘besties’ with my grandma. And you heard all about me, including the fact I’m single and you decided to run me out of my fucking house and almost my business. That’s not gonna get me to like you back and I don’t exactly think my grandmother appreciates that!” You yell, pacing back and forth. “It doesn’t fucking make sense!” You let out a huff.

Rio wants to be patient but she’s getting a wee agitated too. “Well in my defense she told me you like romcoms and I wanted to make a big impact. I wasn’t aware that I was so good at it, I hated running the store!” She crosses her arms as you still pace.

“No, no, no, no, no. You don’t get an ‘in my defense,’” you mock in a high-pitched tone, “This store was my baby. I don’t care if you didn’t like running yours and it was for a twisted sick romcom move. You saw what it was doing to me, maybe not all of it but you did. How could you honestly think I’d like you. How!?” At this point if the crash didn’t wake your neighbors then your screams did. You didn’t care, you were hurt, and so confused.

“Look I’m sorry okay! I’ve quite literally never told anyone I’m sorry for anything but I am. It was wrong of me and I let it get way out of hand. I used my magic way too much and rather than it being a cute little competition I got sucked into the feeling of one-uping you to prove I could one day help you and to show you I’m worthy. I didn’t become aware that it was that bad till I saw you when you were sick. I immediately closed the store and went to your grandmother who filled me in on all of the other horrible things I caused for you. I’m so sorry.” Rio chest heaves as she spews her words.

You stop pacing, biting the skin on your thumb. It’s a nervous tic that’s recently reared its ugly head again. Rios crying, and she hates it. She looked so much like a scolded child that you laugh. She’s confused now. You actually feel like you’re going insane but you just want one good thing so you get right up in her face and look into her eyes. She thinks you’re gonna slap her, but you grab her face and give her the angriest kiss you’ve ever given anyone. Okay and maybe you do slap her but not too hard. You just laugh at her nervous look.

“You bitch,” you say incredulously, “You really did all of this just to ask me out? You do realize I would have said yes the second you walked through that door right? Rio… I like you, I do. You can be the most annoying and conniving creature I know, but you’re charismatic and beautiful. So… since you’re so powerful, I will go out with you on several conditions. Would you like to hear them?” Rio nods her head eagerly.

“Please.” You smirk.

“Look at you, using your manners and everything,” Rio rolls her eyes, “Alright, I will go out with you if you give me everything you earned from your store. I know for a fact you don’t need it and since it wasn’t supposed to be a real store those are my profits. I want you to apologize to my grandmother too and tell her I said thank you for the gift. Secondly, I want to go on a vacation with you to wherever because I’ve wanted to for years and I deserve one. So pack your bags or this ain’t happening” you look between the two of you.

In any other situation these demands would look absolutely insane and maybe they still do but you don’t care because you were stressed and this relationship was already extremely unhealthy on both sides. She pretends to think about it but eventually smiles.

“Of course,” her devilish smirk returns, “but don’t think I don’t still have any power over you dear. I may have been naughty and will prove to you every day that I can be better but watch yourself. After all you can’t cheat death.” She winks and you sigh.

“When I get a couch and a real bed you’re sleeping on the couch,” You simply say and her smirk falters slightly.

“Touché. Oh before I forget,” she puts her hands on your hips. “Check my right pocket.” You give her a raised brow and check, immediately figuring out what it is.

“The love rune,” you hold it up, “you bitch.” It’s said fondly.

“Told you it’d work,” she whispers holding your cheek. And you scoff lightly.

“It’s my own product, I knew it would. But for the record, I knew I would love you from the second I saw your devilish smirk.” You admit. She bites her lip briefly before pulling you into another kiss.

“I’ll give you the world,” she murmurs against your lips. You laugh,

“First give me my money back… but after, all I want is you.”

#rio vidal x reader #agatha all along

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gloomwitchwrites · 10 months ago

Text

Say Yes

Bounty Hunter Boba Fett x Female Reader

Content & Trigger Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): fluff, heavy suggestive themes, protective!Boba, Mandalorian!Boba, light angst, non-descriptive sex

Word Count: 2.5k

A young, handsome bounty hunter on Tatooine makes it a daily intention to ask you to marry him.

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // fluffuary 2024 masterlist

Mando’a Translations: cyar’ika – darling / sweetheart riduur – partner / spouse “Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar'tome, mhi me'dinui an, mhi ba'juri verde” – marriage vows

“Marry me, cyar’ika.”

You glance up from the worn open tome resting on the counter in front of you. “Again? Really, Boba?”

The Mandalorian helmet, dented with flaking green paint, tilts slightly to the right. “You called me ‘Boba’ this time,” teases the bounty hunter.

You roll your eyes and push off from the counter, cheeks heating even as you grumble in false irritation.

Boba Fett, Jabba the Hutt’s favorite mercenary for hire, has asked you to marry him every day for several weeks now. And each time, you have refused him. For the first few, you were overly polite. But as his attempts continued, your polite rejections transformed into snarky quips and blatant dismissals.

It’s not like you don’t find the man attractive. Underneath the armor is an incredibly handsome man, and his attention has always been sincere. But Boba Fett is a dangerous man, and you’re just a simple shopkeeper trying to make a living in Mos Espa. In that regard, the two of you are incompatible no matter how much he persists and chases after you.

“I like how you say my name,” continues Boba, his voice a soft purr. “Sounds beautiful on your tongue.”

“And you are too forward,” you snap, knowing that your sharpness is just a cover. Which is silly, because you do like him, and Boba seems to understand this. Boba burrows beneath your skin, and you cannot dig him out.

“Am I?” he asks with mock offense. You really want to throttle him, but you also really want to kiss him.

“Yes. I don’t know how many times I have to say this, Fett,” you emphasize, deliberately using his last name. “But a ‘no’ is a ‘no’ even if you don’t like it.”

Yep. Push him away. Keep pushing. Maybe he’ll take the hint this time.

Boba Fett stands tall, arms crossed over his chest, one hip slightly popped. With the helmet on, you have no idea what his expression might be or what he’s feeling. Not knowing is maddening, and it quickens your heartbeat, a growing tingle buzzing in the tips of your fingers.

“So, all those touches meant nothing to you?” he asks with just the faintest hint of roughness in his tone.

“Yes,” you lie.

Boba shifts on his feet, shoulders straightening. “What about all the kisses you’ve given me? Hm? Nothing?”

Kriffing hell, why is this man always so direct? It’s nice that Boba is good about telling you what he wants and what he’s thinking for the most part, but it always catches you off-guard. It makes you weak, melting you into goo that he can mold however he wishes.

“Those are not enough to build a marriage, Boba,” you shrug. “There has to be more.”

“But there is more.” He steps around the counter, stepping into your space. “Isn’t there?”

Boba is right. There is more. There has always been more. Whenever Boba is on Tatooine, he is visiting you, talking with you, bringing you gifts, fixing things around the shop without you having to ask. He has offered to take you out after you’ve closed shop. He routinely takes a personal interest in your safety and security. Because of that, no one bothers you or tries to harass additional credits out of you. They stay away and respect you because they see you as Boba’s woman.

And it isn’t only that. He only ever speaks softly to you. He only ever treats you with respect and shows general interest in your life. The most maddening thing is how many women have actively shown their interest in him to his face, and he has brushed them all aside. Even after all these refusals on your end, Boba still declines their advances, and shows up at your shop each day insisting that you marry him.

“Why do you keep denying this, cyar’ika? You know I’d make you happy.” Boba is standing too close, almost on top of you.

“The shop is closed,” you reply. “If you’re not going to make a purchase, you should leave.”

Boba nods his head and backs up, reaching for an item off the shelf without looking. He deposits some credits on the counter, much more than what the item is actually worth.

“I’ll return tomorrow,” he says over his shoulder, tapping the counter as he makes his exit.

The soft chime that alerts you to when the front door opens echoes throughout the room.

You’re in the backroom organizing. It’s the next day, and Boba hasn’t shown himself yet. This might be him, but it’s likely not. There are times when Boba does not come, and you are fully aware that those are times when Jabba sends him off for a job.

“Sorry. We’re closed.” You step out from the backroom and immediately freeze.

Three Nikto bikers loiter in the middle of the shop. It’s evident that they are not here to purchase anything. Their dark eyes roam over the shelves and tables, but once they notice you, they focus in, drawing closer.

“Apologies,” you say, attempting to project your voice, to sound tougher than you are. “We’ve closed for the evening. If there is something you need right away, I can ring you up. Otherwise, you’ll need to leave.” You do your best to keep your voice steady and calm, but you hear the gentle shake.

“This street is our new territory,” hisses the leader of the group. “We were stopping by to offer our…services.”

Services, meaning protection, meaning “pay us or you’ll be a target.”

Tatooine might be overrun with crime lords and criminal activity, but the main powers at play are not known to harass the smaller folks just trying to make a living. These are outliers. These are individuals who answer to no one but themselves, and believe they can carve a piece out for their own gain.

Rarely are they ever successful, but that doesn’t mean they don’t try.

Just as you open your mouth to reply, the soft chime comes again. This time everyone turns and you sigh with relief when you see who it is.

“Boba Fett,” says the Nikto slowly. His shoulders stiffen and they all put their hands on their blasters.

The bounty hunter does no answer right away. His helmet moves, scanning the Nikto, and then you, assessing. Even from across the shop, you sense Boba’s anger. There are few things that rile him up, but you’re one of them.

“It’s not smart moving in on Jabba’s territory. Or to harass what’s mine.” When Boba says mine, he growls it. The possessiveness in his tone heats your flesh, sends a sharp spike of desire down to your belly.

The Nikto all glance at each other before the leader addresses Fett. “We didn’t know the female was yours, Boba.” He holds his hands out in a placating gesture, indicating that he didn’t mean any harm. Yet you know that isn’t true. Their intention from the start was to harass you for credits.

You scoff at female but decide to let it go.

“I think it’s best that you leave.” Boba steps to the side.

The duo glance at their leader for direction. The Nikto’s features are impassive, but he eventually inclines his head, exiting as Boba insist they do. When the last one leaves, Boba momentarily glances in your direction. The door stands open, and Boba exits with him.

When it whooshes shut, you sprint over to the wall panel, immediately engaging the lock and shuttering the windows. You stand in the silent shop for a few minutes trying to calm your heartrate. Once it’s manageable, and not beating so hard it might burst from your chest, you head upstairs to your small apartment above the shop.

By the time you’re curled up in bed, you’re no longer anxious, but there is the slightest bit of tension that lingers in your limbs. Sighing, you turn over in the bed, only to hear the brief pulse of a jetpack shutting off and boots on the small balcony outside your bedroom window.

Slowly, you push up to sitting, the bedsheets falling to your waist. You know it’s Boba. He does this some nights. Camps out and protect you in the only way he knows how because you’re too stubborn to take him up on his numerous marriage proposals.

Tonight, it’s obvious as to why he’s out there. Part of you is reluctant to leave him outside. You’d prefer it if he were with you, within arm’s reach, to see him without the helmet. Plus, nights on Tatooine can grow cold. You want him inside where it’s warm.

On quiet feet, you go to the door that leads outside. Opening it silently, you stick your head out into the chilly air, finding Boba as he leans against the exterior wall, arms crossed.

“You should be in bed, cyar’ika,” chides Boba playfully.

You swallow, suddenly nervous now that you’re confronting him. “Do you want to come inside?” you ask, a bit hesitantly.

Maybe it’s the uncertainty in your tone, or the way you shrink back a bit into the interior of the room, because Boba is suddenly alert, all of his attention attuned to you.

Boba immediately pushes off from the wall and approaches you, his hand on the door, pushing it wider. “Are you hurt? Did one of them touch you?”

You shake your head vehemently. “No. I’m fine. Promise.”

Boba’s chest heaves slightly but you’re not sure if it’s from his sudden movement or a releasing of relief. He glances over his shoulder at Mos Espa, the t-shaped visor of his helmet fixated on the city’s skyline. Turning back, Boba nods.

You step away from the door and Boba enters. Even with the door closed and the windows’ shutters slanted to dim the moonlight, some of it still spills over the room like tiny white rivers.

His helmet hisses as the pressure seal disengages. Slowly, Boba lifts the helmet off his head and sets it aside on a nearby table. He runs his fingers through his dark hair, the ends sticking up slightly after he does so. With the faintest movement, Boba turns, and that moonlight cuts sharp glowing lines over his face, highlighting tanned skin and dark eyes.

You don’t even realize you’re moving closer to him until Boba grabs you by the waist and pulls you against his armor-clad body. Instinctively, your hands reach out, locking onto the beskar. Boba’s head dips and yours rises to meet him automatically, and yet there is no connection. It is simply holding, a waiting between two hesitant people.

“You haven’t asked me to marry you today,” you murmur.

The corner of Boba’s lips turns upward in a soft smile. “Will you marry me, cyar’ika?”

“No,” you say automatically, before the two of you start laughing.

“Let’s try that again.” Boba reaches up and cradles your cheek. “Cyar’ika. Will you marry me? Will you allow me to speak the words of my people? And will you speak them back?”

The words of his people. The Mandalorian marriage vows. You are distinctly aware of what they are and what they mean. Which is why Boba’s earnestness isn’t fake to you. Mandalorians take their weddings vows seriously even though the process of exchange is simple. It is the intention behind the exchange that is most important to them.

That is how you know Boba speaks the truth, that him asking you to marry him is a genuine desire of his.

“Passion does not make a relationship,” you reply.

The answer is a shift away from actually having to answer. How many times have you and Boba ended up on the floor of the backroom after rejecting him? It’s more than you can count on your hands.

“That’s all this is to you?” he laughs. “You know I can give you more. I do more than that now.”

You curl forward a bit, rest your forehead against the beskar. “I’m scared,” you whisper.

“Of what?”

“Of what will change.”

Boba’s fingers brush under your chin and lightly guide your gaze back to his. “I wouldn’t ask you to give anything up.”

“Yes, but—”

Boba gives the slightest shake of his head and you instantly quiet. “Do you want me?” he asks. “Tell the truth.”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“I want you,” you breathe, allowing the words to drip off your tongue.

“May I have one of your kisses?” he asks softly, one gloved thumb lightly pressing down on your bottom lip.

“Yes,” you breathe.

Boba closes the distance, forms perfectly to you. It is slow and delicate and sweet. Your body hums with energy, and when you press for more, Boba growls and pulls back, hastily ripping off his gloves to reveal his bare hands.

Then he’s cupping the side of your face, drawing you back to him, tasting and tasting and tasting until your fingers are clawing at him in desperation. When he breaks the kiss, you still lean forward as if you can reach him.

“Then repeat the words with me, cyar’ika. Become my riduur.”

Boba presses his lips to yours, draws forth an air-stealing shiver from deep within your lungs.

“Mhi solus tome.”

“Mhi solus tome,” you repeat.

We are one together.

Boba slides an arm around your waist to drape softly over your curves. “Mhi solus dar’tome,” he says.

You say it back to him. “Mhi solus dar’tome.”

We are one when parted.

“Mhi me’dinui an.”

We share all.

This time, Boba slots his pelvis against yours, and you understand his heated intention.

“Mhi ba’juri verde.”

“Mhi ba’juri verde,” you say with shaky breath.

We will raise warriors.

Boba snuggles the side of your neck, breathes in your scent. “I’d like to lay with my riduur.” His fingers find the edge of your sleeping robes.

“As long as I can have my riduur the same way.”

Boba grins against your throat. Together, the two of you remove his armor, piece by piece by piece. The moment his flightsuit is unzipped and he steps out of it, Boba is on you, drawing your lips to his, desperately claiming what is now so rightfully his.

Your own clothes are gone before making it to the bed. Boba runs his hands over your back, sliding down to lift you into his arms. Your legs wrap around his middle, and Boba carries you off, placing you gently onto your back.

His mouth upon your skin is a brand. Hot. Searing. It goes lower, lower still until you’re crying out for him, begging for him to be with you as your riduur should. Boba is happy to do so, sliding between your thighs so perfectly, you both lose yourselves momentarily before becoming nothing but a raging storm, waves crashing into each other repeatedly until one of you breaks.

Rest does not come until the morning suns begin to ascend over the horizon. You do not open your shop. And Boba does not return to Jabba’s palace.

There is peace for a while.

Harmony.

taglist:

@padawancat97 @foxxy-126 @glassgulls @km-ffluv @sweetbutpsychobutsweet @singleteapot @garfunklevibes2012 @tiredmetalenthusiast @childofyuggoth @coffeecaketornado @kayden666 @cherryofdeath @enfppixie @ninman82 @no-oneelsebutnsu @beebeechaos

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vidavalor · 2 months ago

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The Devil Takes The Hindmost

The Big Damn Post I've promised for ages on all the stuff suggesting that what we're watching in S2 is Aziraphale's mental health crisis leading to his fall...

...with a focus on a religious concept that intersects with secular ideas about mental health-- The Devil Takes The Hindmost-- that was unintentionally mentioned by Mrs. Sandwich and might be what's going on in The Final 15.

Plus, a look at the possible purpose of The Whickber Street Shopkeepers and Traders Association in the story and a dive into the symbolic role in Aziraphale's story played by Muriel... the most adorable Angel of Death anyone's ever seen.

@ao3cassandraic @komorezuki @kayleefansposts @masnadies -- This is basically what I was starting to talk about the other night, if you're interested. @ochre-sunflower -- the meta I mentioned.

TWs: suicide; depression; PTSD; negative self-thoughts... It's optimistic by the end but it's a look at some darker stuff in the story so please take care.

In GO S2, we have a lot of stressors building and overlapping for Aziraphale, with each episode adding new ones, all boiling hotter and hotter until we reach the The Meeting Ball. There, everything stops for the arrival of Shax at the door.

When she turns up, all the other plots cease to be relevant in the moment because the whole story's stakes upon her arrival now come down to a single, pivotal question:

Are these demons going to get into the bookshop?

On the surface, in our plot, Shax, Eric and the smallest number of completely ineffectual demons that a redemptive Furfur could get away with sending without looking like a traitor 😉 are interrupting Aziraphale having turned his first pass at hosting the monthly meeting of The Whickber Street Shopkeepers & Traders Association into a party.

Why is he doing that? For a dizzying number of reasons. So he can try to protect Gabriel by getting Maggie and Nina together and try to be part of his community by using the party to get Maggie and Nina together which is also so he can protect Gabriel... but, let's be real, it's really all so he can dance with Crowley...

Our heads are spinning as much as Aziraphale's is by this point and it's exhausting just to try to recap everything he's dealing with by The Meeting Ball... which is why it probably isn't surprising that all of that story just stops when the brick goes through the window and Shax is at the door. Because, symbolically...

...this is an anxiety attack.

Shax and the demons are Aziraphale's inner demons and they're trying to force their way past the threshold to take control of the bookshop the way that darkness can consume a person...

...as they're trying to take control of the bookshop that is what, symbolically?

Aziraphale, yes.

Aziraphale and Crowley. (And, as we looked at recently, also Maggie, on account of her family's history with it.)

Why this bookshop attack that is a metaphorical anxiety attack at this point in the story?

Because a lot of what Aziraphale wants out of life was happening before the demons that represent his inner demons showed up at the party.

For the first time ever, Aziraphale was no longer compartmentalizing his worlds and hiding parts of his life from people. He had Maggie and Gabriel under the same roof-- his human and angel families together. He had neighbors over and felt brave enough to call himself one of them by hosting the meeting. He was impacting the society around him in a big way by unifying Whickber Street's black market with its "legitimate" front by inviting Mrs. Sandwich to join the group. He was helping Maggie and Nina fall in love.

Most importantly, there was what the whole thing was really for: having all that happen with Crowley there, too, and everyone knowing they are together. Being able to dance with him and be a couple openly like everyone else. This Jane Austen cotillion coming out ball for ladies Maggie and Nina is really a coming out party of sorts for Crowley and Aziraphale. This is like the Christmas party of Aziraphale's dreams here. The one he's never, ever been able to have.

It's a wonderful thing when people who are in a great deal of emotional pain decide they've just had enough and want to break free of their misery and allow themselves to work towards being happier.

It's just a very delicate period because it can go either way, in a hurry. One minute a person can be thinking they're on top of the world and starting to live the life they've been dreaming of but the next minute find themselves freefalling emotionally. This is especially true of people who feel they have to present as cheerful and optimistic for everyone else and who hide their pain behind a smile.

They are some of the most at risk of their lives becoming like the Salinger short story about trauma and suicide referenced in S2-- "A Perfect Day for Bananafish"-- in which a man suffering from PTSD is believed to be fine by himself and those around him, has a nice day at the sea and chats with a symbolic daughter-like character and then, unceremoniously, goes to his hotel room and shoots himself dead.

As Maggie shows us during The Meeting Ball when she parallels Aziraphale's struggle, people get tired of being afraid and want to live-- want Nina, who is coffee, which is freedom-- but they can overdo it, if they're not careful, and wind up taking steps backwards.

Sometimes, the thrill of feeling like they might be on the edge of something good can cause someone to go too far, too fast, and, without the right support, they can find themselves going faster than a rollercoaster-- and right off a cliff as a result.

These people might look at their inner demons and think they're fine, now, actually, and that the darkness doesn't frighten them at all and they're all over their negative stuff-- all good now. No problems here.

Problem is that, sometimes, in the process, they might realize they're lying to themselves when they suddenly tell those inner demons that they can come in and say all that pathetic shit to their face... before they're really ready for that. Maggie, paralleling Aziraphale here, shows that with Shax during the bookshop attack. Not the best way to deal with inner demons, that.

And one person's inner demons can be an unintentional trigger for others, which is one of the things that started off Aziraphale's mental health crisis boiling up into a breakdown earlier in the season.

Aziraphale was already having a terrible week and then he projected his own issues all over his adopted goddaughter when she was having a moment and wound up accidentally saying something about himself that she took to mean about her and that came out sounding incredibly hurtful in a way that Aziraphale didn't mean for it to be. He then sought to make it up to her by finding a way to make her romantic dreams come true but was, all the while, silently berating himself for not having handled it flawlessly in the first place.

And when that got mixed in with trying to *checks Aziraphale's S2 list*... Jesus...

...recover from PTSD, manage all the anxiety and depression that comes along with it, deal with the fallout of his relationships with his abusive family, save his losing it brother from a religious cult/fascist regime trying to kill him and figure out why he's lost his memory, assuage his guilt over the memory-wiped angel that he feels he failed to save that showed up at the door, figure out wtf to do with the bookshop/embassy he's never wanted to run but that has become the M-25 that he's built and is now stuck in and that just reminds him that he hasn't any family to pass it onto, and, most importantly?

Tell his partner that he would like to live openly with him in the a little cottage by the sea in the South Downs...

I mean, by the time Mr. Vacuum showed up and suggested that Aziraphale add to the list that this week also be the first time he's ever hosted the monthly meeting of the business organization of the street he's basically founded but doesn't let himself really feel like he belongs to?

Sure, Mr. Carpet. Sure. Bring it on. Why not, at this point?

But Mr. Vacuum's idea actually caused Aziraphale to think he had the perfect solution-- continue to do what he was doing all week and combine this shit together! Protect Gabriel by tying him to Maggie and Nina and solve Maggie and Nina through the Whickber Street meeting and, well, if he's going to make it romantic for Maggie and Nina, well...

...maybe this is how Aziraphale can solve his biggest problem-- finding more of a way to just be forever near that one, particular person who makes everything okay.

So, by the time we get to The Meeting Ball? Aziraphale is pretty much losing his damn mind.

The heebie jeebies that Crowley gets in the street? It's not the low-rent demons. He knows what they feel like. He can't identify it but the thing that is really, really wrong is Aziraphale himself, in a dark reverse of Aziraphale feeling Crowley's love in S1.

Thousands of years of feeling a lack of enough control over his life have basically led Aziraphale to snap. Parts of it are very funny. Gabriel dressed up as Liberace circling with temptation trays of vol-au-vents is as hilarious as it is loony. Miracling the room so that everyone speaks like it's the 19th century causes a lot of humorous scenes, especially with Mrs. Sandwich... but is also a horror show. Justine loses her ability to speak English well and others have trouble understanding one another. It's like a zanier, more comedic version of Aziraphale's parallel antichrist, Adam, taking over The Them and deciding how, when, and if at all, they could speak.

It's a person in Aziraphale, who is normally very kind to others but not really to themselves, whose pain and anger have built within them to a breaking point and caused them to take that out on others and become, for a moment, almost the exact kind of person from whom he tries to protect others.

During this part of the season, Mrs. Cheng and Mrs. Sandwich have some dialogue that I think might be the whole rest of the season's plot in a nutshell. It happens here:

Mrs. Sandwich being unaware that "seamstress" is a 19th century-era euphemism for a sex worker means that she doesn't realize that she actually is, on one level, telling Mrs. Cheng what she does for a living. Her frustration is coming from the fact that Mrs. Cheng also doesn't know this euphemism and so thinks Mrs. Sandwich is a literal seamstress-- someone who sews and mends clothes-- and not a figurative/euphemistic one. While that and the rest of this scene is worth a whole deep dive in and of itself, it's not the bit I want to focus on here. That bit is what Mrs. Sandwich says as she gets increasingly upset.

Keep in mind as we look at this that the person who is the literal seamstress in this scene is not Mrs. Sandwich. It's the person whose magic is inhibiting her speech-- so, who is speaking, in a roundabout way, through her-- and who is the one changing everyone's outfits as they come through the door.

The seamstress really of note here is Aziraphale.

In the midst of her frustration, Mrs. Sandwich is trying to curse in 2023 terms but they are coming out in 19th century-era equivalents and this means that she says the following things when cursing:

She insists that she's not a godforsaken (abandoned by God; left to Satan) seamstress, that she's not a benighted (taken by darkness) seamstress, and, finally... while probably trying to say "what the hell"... winds up saying the whole season's plot in response to Mrs. Cheng asking her the also rather meta question of "what, in short" the problem is in that moment.

What, in short, is the plot?, asks Mrs. Cheng, on a meta level.

What the fuck is going on in this story?

To which Mrs. Sandwich replies:

"The Devil take it."

The curse "The Devil take it"-- meaning you give so little about something or someone that Satan can have it-- comes from a religious teaching (that works very well from a secular perspective, too) known as "The Devil Takes the Hindmost". It's this teaching that I think is extremely important to S2 and is arguably around what the story is structured.

This teaching argues that people who are excessively self-sacrificing are putting themselves at risk of being taken by darkness/Satan because of the cumulative effects of the anger, anxiety and depression that comes of denying that they are people with wants and needs of their own for too long.

It's about the people who go beyond kindness. It's about those who don't see themselves as part of the pack of people and think that the world isn't for them. They believe that their needs and wants don't matter as much as the need to prove to themselves that they aren't a horrible person-- which they do, in their minds, by denying themselves a full life of their own.

Sound familiar? It should. It's Aziraphale to a T.

Why are these people in "The Hindmost" for Satan to take when they're not terrible people?

Because they fall to the back of the pack of humanity.

Because they are left open to the darkness because they do not allow themselves to have what they work so hard to help others make for themselves.

The pain of that eventually renders them as bad off emotionally as those they counsel, or worse. The more they deny themselves, the more that pain builds and it can push them down dark paths.

They're in "The Hindmost" not because anyone left them behind, exactly, but because they've shut out the people around them.

They aren't letting people in.

It's about here that we can bring up that Good Omens is built around doors and all of S2 is basically about getting in the bookshop that is Aziraphale. It's here that we can mention Shax-- the darkness-- repeating demands to Aziraphale, to Crowley, to Beez to be let in. It's here we can mention The Final 15 and the world's most depressing kiss-- the literal embodiment of "let me in" as a theme-- and the horribleness that followed.

So, if S2 is The Devil Takes the Hindmost and he's headed Aziraphale's way the whole season with a large oat milk latte with a hefty jigger or dash or whatever of almond syrup and the job (the Job...) offer from Hell to tempt him, then we're watching (for now) the last days of the angel Aziraphale because a fall is a form of death.

It doesn't mean it's the end entirely because, as Gabriel discovered, everything goes down but flies? They go up.

Flies are the product of letting someone in and not shutting out the love and care you need. That can only be done through accepting, at least for a little while, that you are allowed to be a person and deserve to be cared for the way you care for others. If a person does that, they can fall but they'll have what they need to get back up and to help them stave off future falls.

Letting people in and talking to people about how you feel-- figuratively: feeding your fellow ducks your frozen peas and listening to theirs--- is how we all defeat the darkness together and make it so that Satan never shows up at any of our doors.

Yes, it is, Crowley. Would have been helpful if you had mentioned any of your own Hell-and-Book-of-Life frozen peas at all to anyone but the audience all S2 but this meta isn't really directly about you so you get a pass for now 😂 Back to your partner...

So, this The Devil Takes The Hindmost stuff? Almost immediately after Mrs. Sandwich says it, the story begins to have the characters literally act it out.

Shax is The Devil in that she's a devout diabolical minister of Satan so she's representing Satan at the door.

First up? Gabriel.

Gabriel mirrors Aziraphale's excessive self-sacrificing. It doesn't matter to him that he just met most of the people in the bookshop an hour or something ago. If that angry mob outside wants him for who fucking knows what reason as this poor bastard can't remember anything 😂 then Gabriel is happy to throw himself on his sword for them.

In reality, no one in the shop should have let Gabriel go out there alone. The whole point of "The Devil Takes The Hindmost" is that if everyone looks after each other the best that they can?

There won't *be* any hindmost.

There will just a pack of people who are all keeping each other safe from the darkness.

Jim is ultimately fine to tussle with Shax, though, because that is the part of the teaching that he exemplifies.

Gabriel has been protected. He's not completely fine-- who ever is, really?-- and he's still not really over this current bout of depression but he's safe from Satan and the darkness.

He's safe because he has Beez, Aziraphale, Crowley, and his new friends on Whickber Street.

Gabriel has a pack and is allowing himself to be part of it. As such?

The Devil can't touch him. Shax can't recognize him and sends him back inside. Gabriel is not in The Hindmost because he's been hidden, safely, by his group.

Gabriel goes back to the middle of the pack where he spends the rest of the attack, helping Aziraphale fight off his metaphorical inner demons by way of aiding Maggie and Nina to save the bookshop.

It's the next to the door, though, who is not so lucky, and gets to be the first example of The Hindmost.

From the way, way back of the pack that has formed of the humans, Gabriel, Crowley and Aziraphale in the middle of the bookshop pushes forward our beloved Mr. Brown of Brown's World of Carpets.

The President of The Whickber Street Shopkeepers and Traders Association-- the Gabriel of the humans-- feels it's his job to sort out this mess... only he has even less clue as to what's going on than Gabriel did... and he's much, much more vulnerable.

Mr. Brown tells Shax that he doesn't know why she is "interfering" with the people in the shop, unknowingly using the word used in religious circles to talk about The Devil coming after people. Mr. Brown is a guy at real risk here. Going into the circle and getting discorporated if you're not prepared? Facing The Devil at the door without preparation is the same, terrible thing. Mr. Carpet has no idea wtf he's up against here and his motivations for going to the door are the heart of The Devil Takes The Hindmost.

What does our lionhearted Mr. Brown do for a living? What is he, symbolically?

He sells carpets, right? What are carpets?

Well, they're rugs, for one thing. They're found in every business and home in existence. They are necessary for living and also an example of having comfort in your life. (They're also walked on and taken for granted, like our Mr. Brown is quite a bit.) You pick out carpets on your own or with the people with whom you are making a life-- and they tend to symbolize that life.

We see, in 2.06, the shot highlighting the lotus flower carpet that Crowley and Aziraphale have in the bookshop, that they use to cover up the Heavenly circle in the floor-- the one they put Gabriel on to do the protection miracle. It symbolizes the life Crowley and Aziraphale have made together to which they've now let Gabriel in.

What else are carpets? In Good Omens' use of language, they're also cars and pets. Rugs, cars and pets... three of the most common things owned by people living a life on Earth, with the word own itself in Mr. Brown's name.

Brown's *World* of *Carpets*... this dude is, symbolically, everyone.

He's life itself.

That's why it's Mr. Brown who gets taken by the demons and, later, saved by Crowley and left in the care of Mutt, who is human magic-- the character who symbolizes the wonder and mystery and joys of being alive.

Mr. Brown-- an extremely common name for a man whose pain is extremely common. He's lonely. He's overlooked. He's the president of this group of apostrophe and Christmas lights-obsessed, irritating and wonderful, typical, human people because he's unflappable and no one else wants to do it. No one else will do all the boring work and hear all the complaints the way he will and he's made that his role and he hates it. In that way, he's the Beez of Whickber Street-- as desperate for appreciation as Aziraphale. He's Burbage and Shakespeare, wanting an audience that isn't sleeping, drunk, or flirting their way through Hamlet. He's Crowley and Aziraphale:

Mmm, good job... Oh, do you really think so?

Mr. Brown of Brown's World of Carpets is a professional carpet salesman. He spends his days selling everyone what they need to make lives of their own but his own life is far lonelier and smaller than he would like it to be. He doesn't have a partner or true friends, just the people of the group into which he's struggled to really fit, despite running it. He's nerdy and awkward. His over-the-top, affected manner of speaking belies the fact that he feels like he's jiggery pokery, through and through. If I took Mr. Brown's name and profession out of this paragraph, I could be describing Aziraphale just as easily, but for the fact that Aziraphale does have Crowley, if not in the open way he wishes for. Because of that, Mr. Brown being taken by The Devil is also foreshadowing the end of S2 for Aziraphale.

Like most, Mr. Vacuum has got some surprising resolve-- some unexpected moxie-- but, fundamentally, this man has spent S2 showing that he is one more papercut away from a nervous breakdown.

So, when he tries to prove his worth to the group by putting himself at risk, it's excessively self-sacrificing. While there are some titters of alarm and warnings to him not to leave the pack, the one who objects the most is Crowley. Mr. Brown, though, doesn't let Crowley in. He doesn't recognize him because it's partially to look good in front of Aziraphale that Mr. Brown has jumped to the front of the pack. It's his loneliness, his lack of his own life, his need to be part of the group and appreciated. His need to be the hero.

Only, Mr. Vacuum is what happens when you aren't prepared for the darkness and you haven't let anyone in to help you. Shax, realizing that Crowley has been lying to her about the threshold by the way that all the humans have been backed into the living room, tests the theory and Mr. Vacuum gets taken by The Devil.

The Devil Takes The Hindmost.

Mr. Brown went from the literal hindmost of the pack inside of the bookshop up to the front to self-sacrifice excessively, got taken by Satan, and then, in a darkly amusing turn, got tossed back through to the hindmost of the pack of demons outside. He's also near the back of the line for coffee the next morning at Nina's.

If The Devil can come for Mr. Carpet, we see, he can come for anybody. Now this lingering and malignant sense of unease we've been feeling throughout The Meeting Ball tips here into real horror.

Crowley is up next to evacuate the rest of the humans in the shop. He's going to walk them all in a pack past The Devil. They go out in mini-groups within a larger pack. He tells them that they need to all stick together and mind each other, not the demons.

If they do that, they live. If they don't, they won't.

It becomes that simple because it is that simple.

Crowley doesn't just tell The Whickbers how to do this, though-- he leads them out. Because he's one of them, too... but really also because this is all a metaphor for Aziraphale's mental health breakdown getting going and what happens when you are having an anxiety attack or a depression episode?

What goes out the door?

The things that keep you alive, right? The good stuff in life. That is defined differently for everyone but a lot of it overlaps for many of us. Many of those things are what The Whickber Street group characters stand for in the story. Aziraphale owns the land for most of Whickber Street so, in addition to being characters in their own right, all of the members of The Whickber Street group represent Aziraphale.

They're all the things he loves the most-- his reasons for living, and what helps keep the darkness away for him. This is really why, symbolically, neither they nor Crowley (symbolically, love) can be present in the shop when Aziraphale is melting down at his worst.

Crowley leads the pack out with Mrs. Sandwich up front. He is allowing himself to be part of the pack here. He might be supernatural and the group human but it doesn't matter. They're all people and there's more to it than miracles. Crowley can't face the darkness on his own-- and neither can Mrs. Sandwich. Neither of them should have to. So, they don't. They choose to be each other's friends and let each other in and they're both better for it and so is the rest of the pack. This is an example of how to deal with darkness in a positive way.

Crowley trusts Mrs. Sandwich in general but for this task, in particular, because who knows best how to deal with the darkness?

Survivors of prior run-ins with darkness, that's who. His fellow "fallen woman", Mrs. Sandwich, has got her hat pin and his back and Crowley has hers.

So, out the door of the bookshop that is Aziraphale goes love, friendship, sex, romance, healthy communication, human magic, community, food, music, and so much more... because not taking care with our mental health issues rob us of what we love.

Left in the shop? Maggie and Gabriel-- Aziraphale's past and his family... and Nina-- the possibility of freedom (her American-themed coffee shop) and what's left of Aziraphale's hope for the future. Nina's decision to stay symbolizes Aziraphale hanging onto some hope.

After Crowley and The Whickbers leave and Maggie accidentally lets in Shax, the demons have gotten in and are advancing. Without those who are no longer in the shop and with Crowley missing, Aziraphale's anxiety ratchets up and the demons-- his inner demons-- gain ground. The goal becomes keeping them from getting into the residence floor upstairs-- to the place to which Aziraphale has let hardly anyone in. The parts of himself that are not public-facing or for acquaintances but only for those he allowed himself to get close to. Maggie and Nina can be on the landing up there. Gabriel can stay in the guest room. They're family. Only Crowley is allowed free reign in the whole of the bookshop.

For the first time, we have an angel not named Aziraphale teaming up with humans to fight for a place on Earth. The start of the 'all of us versus all of them' that Crowley foreshadowed as still to come at the end of S1? It isn't some big battle for the planet. It is a battle for the life of a single person in Aziraphale because every person matters.

It's The Commander of The Heavenly Host rooting around the upstairs rooms of the bookshop collecting all the fire extinguishers bought to help Crowley deal with his trauma that he can find to supply his troops-- the human Maggie and Nina-- on the front lines.

It's Aziraphale's loved ones coming together to fight to save the bookshop that is, symbolically, Aziraphale himself.

Ultimately, though? Crowley, Gabriel, Maggie and Nina can help hold off the demons that are symbolically Aziraphale's inner demons but it's ultimately going to come down to Aziraphale and Aziraphale alone whether or not these demons are going to overrun the bookshop.

We reach the point where Aziraphale has to choose-- is he going to let the demons take him over or is he going to send them back? He decides, in this moment, to blow up his halo.

We learn that Aziraphale's halo isn't divinity floating atop his head-- it's a tight, hard band around his mind. It's mental health issues, in physical form. He is in visible pain and breathing shallowly as he struggles to take it off. If you took away the halo from the picture, it's visually very much like someone having an anxiety attack. He uses it to discorporate the demons-- to send his inner demons packing.

Well, almost all of them...

Shax, the one that voices his darkest inner thoughts, remains. She's unconscious for awhile, lying dormant on Crowley's couch.

Aziraphale tells Maggie and Nina that he thinks blowing up his halo might have "just started a war" and, symbolically, it did.

Because when you blow up your halo, it can work for awhile but if you still aren't able to address the underlying, fundamental issues at the root of why you have a halo in the first place, those dark thoughts will come back.

Those demons are coming back and, sure enough, Aziraphale's bookshop is full of plenty of voices by early the next morning. While he won The Battle of The Bookshop, he loses The Battle of The Bananafish the next morning.

While Aziraphale stopped the attack on the shop-- his anxiety attack-- with the halo, we learn the next morning that then something else happened the prior night that we didn't see that is affecting the rest of 2.06. We hear about it from Aziraphale after Satan shows up in this bit here:

What's this, now? Aziraphale doesn't want to chinwag with The Metatron because they already chatted the night before and our angel doesn't think there's anything left to be said. Our angel says he's made his position quite clear.

So, The Metatron got on the circle thing zoom after Aziraphale discorporated demons with it and blew up his halo and, by that point, Aziraphale had had enough.

Aziraphale told The Metatron, in so many words, to go fuck himself.

This is really what Aziraphale is trying to say when he tells Crowley that he "did the thing with The Halo." Yes, he literally blew up his halo to discorporate the demons and stop the bookshop attack but the halo is his the weight of all of his cumulative trauma from Heaven... which makes it also, symbolically, The Metatron. Aziraphale blew up his ties to Heaven by telling off The Metatron. He told off the floating head hanging over his head as part of blowing up the halo crushing his mind.

So, Aziraphale then spent the whole night assuming correctly that, if you yell at Head Office, he's going to tell Satan that you're fair game.

Aziraphale doesn't want to fall. He doesn't want to be a demon-- not because he thinks of them as lesser beings because he doesn't think of them that way. Because being a demon is a terrible existence and Aziraphale would rather not have his soul be owned for all eternity by his partner's assailant who is also, literally, The Devil. He's a hard pass on that and had a plan to have Crowley help him avoid it.

Satan and other events made sure that he and Crowley couldn't communicate what they were thinking and feeling to one another openly from the time that Crowley left the bookshop with The Whickbers through the end of S2. If they had been able to and if Crowley had any idea what was truly going on, things would have been very different. The story is Aziraphale's fall, though, so it has to be bad for now to improve in S3.

Because it's Satan at the door with the coffee, he uses Crowley to identify him as The Metatron to everyone else and, so, has convinced Crowley that he *is* The Metatron and that Satan is nowhere in sight. Crowley doesn't see Aziraphale's fall coming, as can be the case with many people-- even those who know of the mental health challenges of those close to them.

Crowley thinks that the biggest threat to Aziraphale in The Final 15 is The Book of Life-- and, I suppose, in a symbolic way, it is.

The Book of Life-- in the way that Crowley thinks it exists-- is not real. It's his and Beez's anxieties from when they were angels manifested as a ghost story to tell more impressionable angels. Yet, as a concept? It kind of is sort of exactly what Aziraphale goes through in S2. He feels erased into non-existence by Heaven already and he's fighting for his life.

Right, so, a hundred years ago lol, I mentioned that Muriel is key to this idea. Let's look at how their presence is highlighting Aziraphale's issues and ushering him closer to death/falling.

While two angels with memory issues show up at Aziraphale's door in S2, Gabriel is a tale of hope while Muriel is a cautionary tale.

If your memories are "all your you"-- your sense of self, formed through your history-- then, while Gabriel was preserved in The Fly, the example of what can happen without one?

The horror show of a total and complete, catastrophic loss of a sense of self? So... death?

That's Muriel.

There is an angel named Muriel in some Western Christian traditions who becomes a figure called The Abaddon, which is The Angel of Death. The Abaddon factors into different takes on Revelations and apocryphal Biblical stuff. There are several different ideas on who The Abaddon is, though my understanding is that their role as The Angel of Death who brings souls to their final judgement is pretty universal throughout.

In some traditions, The Abaddon is seen as the antichrist. In others, it's Satan. In S1, Good Omens played around with some characters seeing the role of The Abaddon in these ways during Armageddon: Round One through how the Satanic nuns referred to the antichrist baby and Satan as "The Angel of The Bottomless Pit", which is the descriptive phrase given to The Abaddon in multiple different religious writings.

In other religious traditions, though, The Abaddon is thought to be an angel of Heaven or a trio of angels of Heaven. It's these ideas that I think Good Omens is playing with in S2 with, I feel, the heavier emphasis on the true Abaddon being the one most frequently referred to that way-- Muriel. Also supporting the idea of Muriel as Death is that there is also that a character in Salinger's "A Perfect Day for Bananafish" with that name. Muriel is the one set to inherit the main character's wealth and property after he kills himself at the end of the story.

So, how is our lovebug Muriel The Angel of Death?!

For that, we have to look at what a fall is.

Consider that The Metatron can tell Satan that an angel is fair game but, in order for that angel to actually fall to Hell, they have to fail to resist Satan's temptation. What the show is subtly saying is that every angel who is a demon is not just an angel who got caught out saying or doing something that threatened The Metatron's power but, also, an angel who was also already falling into despair and, so, couldn't resist Satan when he came to claim their soul.

The literal fall that happens-- the "freestyle dive into a pit of boiling sulphur", as Crowley called it-- is a symbolic thing that happens after an angel has been unable to resist Satan and, so, is now considered by Heaven and Hell to be a demon.

If you consider that the way the literal fall has been described-- going off a cliff; the parallels to Gabriel nearly jumping out a window-- all of these are images of ways that people sometimes kill themselves. Heaven and Hell come at angels and demons from a place of abuse that pushes them towards suicide. Even in S1, it wasn't straight out murder that Crowley and Aziraphale faced-- they were both forced into what, to Heaven and Hell, would have seen as committing forms of suicide. Crowley getting into a bath of holy water; Aziraphale stepping into hellfire.

So, we're saying that the physical fall happens after an angel has already fallen, and that, in order to fall to Hell, an angel has to have already first fallen into despair.

If the show wants Aziraphale to fall in the Heaven/Hell sense of it, he has to have a mental health breakdown and I'm reminded that the opening credits of this show are Crowley and Aziraphale walking the Earth with all of their history layering up behind them and following along with them and then they go up and up and up on a track in S2 and stop just prior to?

Falling off the edge. The literal fall is what we've stopped just short of but, all along so far, we've been watching the fall in progress build.

The reason why we've never been "shown a fall" on Good Omens is actually because the whole story to date is Aziraphale's fall. It doesn't even really start with S2-- it started long, long ago. It also, though, really kicked into gear just prior to the start of S2, as is noted a bit in this moment here:

Nina asks if everything being weird started the prior week when the power went out and Aziraphale replies:

Trauma is like that. It can be things that happened in your metaphorical 2500 BC that are coming back to bite you in your 2023 AD. It's cumulative. It builds and pushes. You can go and go and go and then, one day, your power just goes out. Your energy to fight is just gone and a storm is brewing. A series of events can push someone who is in an already vulnerable mental health state towards a full on fall into despair and that is what I think S2 is fundamentally about.

S2 is a suicide narrative. Our Clarence Aziraphale is going a bit George Bailey. Even as, on the one hand, he's taking big steps forward to claim more of the life he wants, it's the underlying trauma that he hasn't yet been able to fully deal with that is making him also, at the same time, begin to quietly wonder if those around him would be better off if he were not in their lives.

This is why the most dangerous character in S2 is not Satan or The Metatron.

It is, quietly, Muriel.

How so?

Because when people begin to have more frequent suicidal thoughts, their reasons for living that usually keep them going begin to change to being more of a list of obstacles that are preventing them from death. As a person falls into depression to a point that they begin to feel like maybe everyone around them would be better off if they weren't there, they begin in their minds to try to "solve" the problems that are keeping them from dying. They try-- not always super-consciously-- to set things up in such a way so as to convince themselves that their ties to the Earth will be neatly resolved with minimal bother for anyone else and, more importantly, that all their loved ones will be set up to be fine without them.

People in despair can-- and will-- come up with what are, objectively, absolutely bonkers rationales because, ultimately, they want coffee but they are in such despair that they thinking about ordering death.

Muriel's arrival means that Aziraphale then basically has a solution to every obstacle in his mind in such a way that he clears a path straight to taking his life. They help solve two of his "obstacles": Crowley and the problem of the bookshop.

Muriel is dangerous because they show up at the door with the same curious, upbeat, enthusiastic personality and sense of wonder at the magic of the world that Crowley both loves in Aziraphale and needs in his life.

Muriel is also who can take the bookshop. They're an angel who needs an escape and who loves books and Earth. They're perfect for it. Aziraphale is also horrified to realize that Muriel doesn't recognize him and what the implications of that are and he feels guilty about not having saved them somehow. They begin to represent his self-determined failures and giving them the shop would be, in his mind, making some of that right.

To Aziraphale, Muriel is the cheer and hope that Crowley needs in his life and they've taken to each other like ducks to water, which is then also coming after Aziraphale has subtly been pairing up his partner with the also-immortal-and-traumatized archangel with whom Crowley has much in common and whom we are told in S2 that Aziraphale knows that Crowley finds attractive.

Shax pops up throughout to help show some of Aziraphale's dark thoughts about himself.

What are you, Aziraphale? Crowley's emotional support angel? The one who went native? Do you need more big, human meals, Aziraphale?

The comments in Edinburgh that are not really about the car. It's really more like Aziraphale calling himself "an old piece of junk" and thinking Crowley deserves the chance to get an upgrade to someone better. Gabriel's good-looking and has been through much of the same as Crowley. Muriel is upbeat and makes Crowley smile. Crowley having friends who are supernatural is a great thing but, under the surface, it's also leading Aziraphale to create an inner narrative where he's telling himself that he's replaceable in parts by Gabriel and Muriel and that he wouldn't be leaving Crowley alone if he were to take his own life.

Aziraphale is telling himself that maybe the best way to love Crowley is to make it so that Crowley doesn't have to deal with him.

What did Crowley say about his stars once? The first time they met?

Six thousand years-- that's nothing.

Engine won't even have properly warmed up by then.

Crowley's borderline-immortal. He'll live forever. Six thousand years is a blink of the eye to them. He'll get over me, Aziraphale is telling himself, and find someone worth spending eternity with.

Aziraphale didn't see a path towards death until Muriel's arrival because he didn't fully have a solution to the bookshop and Crowley. That's what makes that adorable moppet of an angel the deadliest character in S2.

The reason why Muriel leapfrogs over every other character and makes it down to the last, pivotal minutes of Crowley and Aziraphale's story in The Final 15-- in a part of the story where even Gabriel is gone-- is because Muriel is death.

It's because this is all about whether or not Aziraphale is going to take the freedom of coffee from Mr. Six Shots of Espresso and live or whether he's going to take the false freedom of the lies he's telling himself from Satan and die.

Is he going to try to take his own life or is he going to find a way through this time, as he has before?

"It's just you and me, Aziraphale." What a statement that is.

It's both true and a complete lie.

Crowley and Muriel are both still in the room when Satan says that so, objectively, it's not really just him and Aziraphale... except that he is controlling Muriel and Crowley in different ways. In that way, it really is only Satan and Aziraphale left by this point. It's down, by that point, to just whether or not Aziraphale is going to live and since Satan is here for him, it's not looking great.

Satan is the embodiment of Aziraphale's life or death choice here and that choice, in many ways, is the only two other beings left in the shop at that point.

It's Crowley or Muriel. It's life or death.

Satan also as Aziraphale's darkest thoughts, really... as Aziraphale's internal dialogue playing out.

What about my bookshop? he asks himself.

Really: What about my life?

Muriel, replies Satan... replies the darkness... replies Aziraphale to himself.

You could entrust it to Muriel.

They need an escape. You'd be doing them a great favor. You'd be sacrificing yourself for them and redeeming yourself for failing to save them. It'd make what you're thinking of doing noble, actually. It'd make it okay. It'd make you a good person.

Aziraphale struggles, right? He almost doesn't do this. He almost says he thinks he's making a mistake because he knows he is. It's just that his every conflict has come up all at once and overwhelmed him.

Even still, the darkness has him pretty solidly-- but not completely-- until this moment right here:

Aziraphale is no fool and he's questioned the idea that this is The Metatron; he's actually trying to tell Crowley that he thinks it's Satan for much of That Scene in the bookshop and to get Crowley to see it and help him, in case it is. Aziraphale hopes he's wrong, though, because he wants it to be The Metatron because he thinks that is the way to fix things but it's not and he knows it, deep down. He doubles down because he's embarrassed, because he feels foolish and afraid and like he has nothing to offer Crowley without the power he thinks he lacks.

Satan's temptation, though, ultimately works because of the final of the death by a thousand cuts here in the whole "Second Coming" moment.

After Satan gets Aziraphale to leave the shop with him to head to Heaven, he, as The Metatron, flatters Aziraphale a bit. He says the things that Aziraphale has always wanted someone in Heaven to say to him. He tells Aziraphale he's needed and that they specifically need and appreciate who he is-- an angel who knows how things are done on Earth. It's validating who Aziraphale is and who is he proud of being in the way that Aziraphale has always wished would happen.

Aziraphale is hurting so much that he starts to wonder if maybe he was wrong about all of this. He was pretty sure before but, maybe, just maybe, he was wrong and he wants to be wrong because then it means maybe that he'd know who he is. Maybe it would mean he would no longer have to be an angel who goes along with Heaven as far as he can because Heaven would be finally starting to see the light.

Maybe this isn't Satan. Maybe it really is The Metatron. Maybe all of this is real. Maybe he can go to Heaven and take this job and really have the power to protect Crowley and they won't have to be afraid anymore.

Then, Satan drops the bomb. He fires the killshot.

He lets Aziraphale hear him say "we call it 'The Second Coming'" while pretending he didn't mean for Aziraphale to hear it.

This is the moment that Aziraphale knows it was all a lie.

He knows for sure who that is now. He has gone from being 98% sure to a full 100%. He knows that it's not The Metatron but Satan holding open the elevator.

Satan had to tell him, as it's the only thing Satan has to do in some form at the end-- because it has to be Aziraphale's choice. Satan sure as fuck doesn't have to be fair about it-- and he definitely wasn't-- but it's at this moment that Aziraphale knows with absolute certainty that there isn't a job offer.

How could there be if The Second Coming is on the table? They'll never put Aziraphale in charge of Heaven with Armageddon as the agenda. He's the angel who stopped it the last time. It means that Aziraphale knows for sure that, if he gets into the elevator, he's effectively killing himself, because this is all to entrap and kill him, not to promote him.

Satan sets it up so that the final things Aziraphale is thinking about when he makes the choice are that there is no chance that Heaven will ever improve and that they're going to do Armageddon again and just keep doing it until it happens and it's all hopeless and Aziraphale will never have the power to protect Crowley and they're going to just keep living this nightmare forever and he's been doing this for thousands of years and he can't take it anymore.

People who are suicidal are stuck in cycles of their lives they feel they can't get out of and that's exactly what Aziraphale is reminded of in the moment before he gets into the elevator.

He doesn't want death-- he wants coffee.

He wants Crowley, standing appropriately in front of Give Me Coffee or Give Me Death, with the coffee art and the blues and greens of Earth all around him. The canopy plants in the backseat. This is what Aziraphale wants but he just doesn't know how to get there anymore and the darkness wins out. The villains always win a battle at this part of the story or else there's no plot left going forward and there is a forward because it's Aziraphale. There are ways back from this but that's for S3.

Give Me Coffee or Give Me Death, as we know, is substituting the word coffee for the word liberty in the original quote and that's exactly what happens in Aziraphale's decision to get into the elevator. The truth is revealed-- there is no job, which makes him feel like there is no way to ever be free while living. He's exhausted by fighting the same battles, over and over, with no way to escape in sight, and takes what he thinks is the freedom of not suffering anymore.

He chooses the false freedom of death over the true freedom of living-- Satan's coffee over Mr. Six Shots of Espresso in a Big Cup-- because Aziraphale loves that espresso more than anything but he struggles to love himself. He thinks, in that moment of despair, that the best way to love Crowley is to set him free by leaving life.

It's the Job minisode foreshadowing all of it and going back to the start of his story for the end.

It's nothing important, Aziraphale, don't worry...

Just your kids, your house, your businesses, your money, your neighbors, your street, your car, your books, your friends, your community, your Earth and the love of your life.

Just all the love and magic of the world.

Just all your you. Just your life...

When the first shot of the season was the skies sweeping down towards the front of the shop door... and the final shot of the shop in S2 is The Angel of Death-- Muriel-- entering it alone, claiming it and closing the door? When the light goes off in the bookshop window?

When Aziraphale-- after running around with a paralleling clipboard for half an episode-- leaves a note on the dash for his wife, like International Express Delivery Dude did in S1? When his "I love you, Maud" is the car playing Crowley "A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square"? That's when we can see why Death appeared to Aziraphale at the end of S1 and has been headed his way since.

Satan's temptation, yes, but executed with the help of The Angel of Death, who helped push Aziraphale into the lift with The Devil and not towards Crowley and The Bentley, where Aziraphale's love has always been willing to give him a lift, anywhere he wants to go.

In a show where people are symbolically what they profess that it is that they do-- midwifery/cobblering, conjuring, "seamstressing" and so on... all of those things are positive. They're about helping others and loving the world. With that in mind?

Go back and look at Muriel's arrival at the bookshop again...

What is adorable is, also, a fucking horror movie of a declaration:

Muriel is a human police officer.

Friends... that's Death.

Muriel is the only one with a horrible self-declared profession. They're not helping birth ideas and babies and art and mending everyone's pain. They're not a working, professional magician helping to develop the street. They're not a healing seamstress. They don't sell old films and records and books. They don't feed anyone at their restaurant or sell musical instruments to nourish their lives. They aren't the best guy on the block-- Mr. Brown and his World of Carpets, giving people what they need to outfit a life of their own. They're the not a member of The Whickber Street Shopkeepers and Traders Association-- like their paralleling Jim becomes as he begins to regain the will to live.

Crowley is worried about caring for Gabriel being too much for Aziraphale but it's really Muriel that is a walking trigger for him.

Gabriel is a character people think is a villain who is really a lovebug; Muriel is a character people think is a lovebug but who is, symbolically, the worst possible thing to ever show up on your doorstep.

Gabriel is saying books are keen and hot chocolate is amazing and live, live, live, live, Aziraphale...

He's the part of Aziraphale's mind that is trying to save himself while Muriel is the part that is luring him towards death.

Muriel is saying the best part of a cupperty is to look at it, Aziraphale.

It's not for you. You're an angel. You aren't supposed to want to live your own life. You aren't supposed to have wants and needs at all. Even if you go into that back room to be with Crowley alone and try to shut me out, I will break down the door and come after both of you before too long is up.

Muriel is cosplaying Earth's most invasive and violent profession and they're so sweet about it that it tends to bury the eeriness of their arrival. In Muriel, Aziraphale is confronted with his paralyzing perfectionism, his negative self-worth, his rampant imposter syndrome, and his excessive self-sacrificing-- all at once.

All his negative feelings are here at the door in the form of this fun house mirror version of himself-- a cheery and also clinically depressed angel, who is actually cosplaying humanity the way Aziraphale always feels like he is, even if he knows at the core that he's every bit as human as the billions on Earth.

The world is for the professional conjurers, for the humans, for everyone but Aziraphale, in his mind. He is supposed to be above needing any of it. He is supposed to never be angry, anxious, tired, depressed, hungry. He isn't supposed to need the home and books and music and food and sex and magic that he lives for. This angel isn't supposed to be a member of The Whickber Street Shopkeepers and Traders Association but he founded the street, let alone the group, and he'll die trying to host a meeting because nothing makes him feel more himself than when he lets himself be a part of the world.

Muriel's presence worsens his depression spiral, which we've seen is what happens when the negative thoughts get to be too much.

In S2, he goes a sherry-and-stomach-settling-drop diet. He doesn't eat the eccles cakes. He doesn't slow down and enjoy much of anything. Part of the joy of the ox rib scene is that Aziraphale isn't really enjoying himself that much in the present in S2 and it's the only thing like it in S2. Aziraphale, in S2, has put himself and his demon on half-rations and talks about his frozen peas to his fellow duck less. He goes back and forth between trying to self-care (Shostakovich and going to the Gabriel statue and brief moments of flirting with Crowley) and self-neglect (the entire rest of the season lol). Mix in too many additional stressors like what S2 had and it goes from the anxious period of fasting in 1967 to the cause for big time alarm that is S2.

Intellectually, Aziraphale knows that mindful human living is prescriptive. He saves Gabriel by starting to teach him what he knows about it. There's always been a little voice whispering at Aziraphale, though, that it might be right for others but that doesn't mean he's supposed to feel or need those things. He should be above it because that, apparently, would make him the good person that he doesn't often believe he is. His feelings aren't even about being an angel in the Heaven sense so much as in the human anxious perfectionist sense, in that he's excessively self-sacrificing because he doesn't fundamentally believe he's a good person.

There's nothing wrong with being as kind and generous to people as you can. It's when you're doing that while also not acknowledging that you are a person with wants and needs at the same time that you can self-sacrifice yourself right off a cliff as a way of trying to convince yourself that you're not a bad person.

You can deny yourself the life you want out of the excuse that it's your purpose only to care for everyone else but it's not really virtuous. It's a form of self-harm.

What hurts so much about S2 is 1941 because the minisode then gives us Crowley and Aziraphale slaying demons left and right. It gives us what a good day looks like in a whole season that is, otherwise, a series of bad days mixed with things that are also not within their control that then lead to the worst, possible ending.

We see, really, how good they are at caring for one another. The kiss scene is made infinitely more painful by us having seen in the 1941 minisode another conversation in the same spot in bookshop when Aziraphale was struggling with these same issues that went so very differently.

Crowley is very good at gently reminding Aziraphale that, not only is he wonderful, but that he's a person, too, and that everyone feels like they are jiggery-pokery sometimes. Everyone struggles with the voices of others and themselves trying to judge them and how that impacts a sense of self. That fighting through that to be able to live and love is, unfortunately, a pretty common experience of being a person.

This is not new for Aziraphale. It's so very old, stirred up hardcore in S2, now that it's been four years since Heaven contacted him. Aziraphale doesn't know that it's because Gabriel is trying to protect him. He thinks he's so inconsequential that Heaven couldn't even be assed to send someone to formally fire him and take the bookshop embassy that, despite being something of an albatross around Aziraphale's neck, he's also really proud of having built.

Aziraphale wants Heaven to fuck off but he also feels embarrassed by the fact that Heaven could fuck off so easily and that he feels like he doesn't have a friend there to speak of after thousands of years. He is ashamed of it needing to be Crowley who gets them a contact for info in Shax because he sees it as more dangerous for Crowley to need to be in contract with the demons and as a failure to protect him-- the thing that's at the core of Satan's temptation at the end of the season. (Also why Crowley is trying not to tell him about Shax taking his job and his conversation with Beez, which is a huge mistake but it's coming from a good place.)

Surely, Aziraphale thinks, if he hasn't fallen and he's still an angel... if he still is one, he's not really sure, as what is a non-working angel?... then, if he were good, there'd be some angel up there who would still be talking to him. He knows Heaven isn't good, exactly, but not all of the angels are terrible. As anyone who has ever had to go no contact with an abusive family knows, the illogical doubts that creep up can make a person think that maybe they're the wrong ones. At your worst, you can wonder: if the whole family thinks you're wrong, are you really right? Aziraphale knows he is right but it gets complicated.

Add to that the stress of worrying that something will happen to Crowley every time he goes out the door (part of Aziraphale's own trauma for millennia, made worse by 1827), and Crowley's PTSD exacerbated by the fire in S1, and Aziraphale's negative self-thoughts are being triggered even worse than usual. He's blaming himself for them not being safe, when that's not fully within his control... which, in Aziraphale's mind, is the whole problem and an example of how he is failing Crowley.

This is all long before Gabriel shows up at the door and the season gets started with a series of events that then worsen Aziraphale's state of mind. By the time Muriel shows up at the door, these negative kinds of thoughts out in full force in Aziraphale and Muriel represents them.

Muriel might be cute as a button and, as a character in their own right, being used left and right by Heaven, but it doesn't change the fact that Muriel is, symbolically, a mashup of the human and supernatural cops trying to kill them that Crowley and Aziraphale have been outrunning their whole lives.

The Angel of Death is a cop because of course they are, right? What other group of people has been existing to entrap, imprison, torture and kill people for eons?

From the book: If you want to imagine the future, imagine a boy and his dog and his friends. And a summer that never ends.

S1 was summer. It was the nightingales.

S2 is the lingering doom of preparations for Christmas lights. It's the days getting shorter and colder. The nightingales have flown to warmer climates. Because this is Good Omens so the season of Aziraphale's fall is set in the season of... well, the fall.

The good news is that, both literally and metaphorically?

Summer is always just around the corner.

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mayearies · 1 year ago

Text

CATS ALIKE .. miles g. morales ⟡

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 miles g. morales x fem! reader , fluff , no disclaimer

𐦍༘⋆ SYNOPSIS; you wanted a cat. miles did not. he made this pretty clear. he ignored, dismissed, and persuaded you to stop asking for a while. however, it came back again and again and again. guess how he caved.

WC; 728

𐦍༘⋆ NOTES; old fic i wrote also test for engagement i guess

౨ৎ

he purposely avoided your eyes for a while now. a little bit too long for both of your liking. he flipped through thr channels on the tv as he held you in his lap and you kissed him all over his face, muttering the word ‘please’ without break.

miles grumbled, knowing he would cave pretty soon. he had a sweet tooth for those chocolate lips of yours. he sighed loudly, throwing his head back on the arm of the sofa before looking at you with an annoyed expression. “if i do this for you, promise me you’ll shut up about it.” you nodded in glee.

you knew how to hold your end of the bargain, just one small favor. one small thing couldnt hurt his cold and stoic soul. he took you to the nearest petshop on the block since you wanted this more than ever. a cat.

miles didn’t like the idea. he was away most nights and didnt want something there to create more of a mess than you already did of his room (he would scold you but you knew he didnt really care that much). he could think of a million reasons why this was a bad idea. the only plus was that it was cute.

“which one you want, ma?” he followed you down the isle of cages and cries of the kittens, “preferably not the ones that shed a lot.” his voice sounded uneasy and skeptical. he knew how bad you wanted this.

“relax a little. these little things are so cute, how could you not want one?”

he crossed his arms and watched as you stuck your hands into the bars to pet each one of them, to which some would hiss and deny. “maybe because i dont like cats,” he hissed. “their fur gets everywhere.”

“i say it’s worth it,” you replied sassily to match his tone.

“of course you do.”

you saw one in particular that caught your attention. a black cat that was missing an eye. the shopkeeper said he was born that way and that nothing was wrong with him. he was adorable, just as fiesty too. it didnt let you touch it until it smelled your hand. even then it was still ready to fight. reminds you of someone else you know. “i want this one.”

“the things i do for you.”

you laughed under your breath, “you say it like it’s a bad thing.”

that night, you were so excited to play with the little guy. miles however, could care less. he didnt want much to do with it. well, it may not come off as that because he bought the most expensive bed and cat litter for it, despite it being no older than a few weeks.

you wanted to play with it first, but where’s the fun in that? “how about, i set up the cat litter and stuff and you get to know our new friend together?” miles raised an eyebrow as he set down the carrier. “is this some typa excuse?”

“no! just spend some time with it. last thing i ask, i promise.”

miles sighed and agreed. so much for promises. he opened the cage and waited for it to crawl out, but it didn’t. the sudden change in enviornment and scent must’ve been just kicking in. he reached his finger into the cage and felt the ends of the whiskers ticking it. then, it licked him. he wasn’t taken aback by it but it felt odd.

you finished installing the cat litter box and started walking towards the living room once you heard the tv on again, “so, how’d it-“ and the last thing you thought you’d see tonight just laid in front of you. miles was watching the screen as the little furball wrapped around itself on his chest. it was purring and by the torn fabric in his hood, you could tell it was kneading him.

“well, look who got along,” miles glared at you for that as you walked over to lay down behind him. “still don’t like cats?”

he playfully scoffed and rolled his eyes, his fingers drifting and gazling along the fur of its tail. “im still wondering why you chose that name for him.”

“whats wrong with it?”

“who names their cat ‘meows morales?’”

@ MAYEARIES ‘23

#!⋆⭒˚｡⋆ delivery! ‹𝟹 💗#miles morales #miles g morales #miles morales x reader #across the spiderverse #miles morales blurbs #e!42 miles morales #earth 42 miles morales x reader #42 #miles 42 #42 miles morales #earth 42 #earth 42 miles fluff #earth 42 miles morales #earth 42 miles x reader #miles morales earth 42

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mynameis-noe-body · 1 year ago

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Can you do a marquis one shot where the reader works as a tailor/assistant/spy for the marquis but they’re also really innocent/upbeat . As he gets to know the reader, he finds himself going from confused that they’re so cheery to loving them as they are to corruption kink?

Thank you for your patient, anon. 🖤 I hope you'll love this.

This add to a second request I recieved.

➡️ Also cause I saw you mentioned a corruption kink, one with the marquis de framing would be fantastic 🥹❤️❤️❤️❤️

I didn't quite understand, but here is corruption kink fo you. I hope you'll love this as well.

Little dove

Marquis Vincent Bisset De Gramont × you (F)

Rating: Explicit

Status: Complete (one shot)

“Oh, Marquis De Gramont — what a pleasure to have you here!” you exclaimed, seeing him enter your shop. You walked towards him, holding the door open and showing him your best smile. “I just got an absolutely cheeky outfit that you will love, exactly your size.”

Vincent smiled. By now he had gotten into the habit of frequenting your shop at least once a week. He didn't lack money, nor time; he loved spending a few hours on a Saturday afternoon exploring the embellished and sumptuous dresses in your shop. And most of all, he loved spending time with you.

So joyful, friendly, sweet — a little macaron. Such a lovely pastry. You were an extraordinary creature, in his eyes. He, who had seen so much death, who had held so much power—he looked at you and found such innocence in your gaze. It was a part of you that was impossible not to love.

He cleared his throat, with a wave of his hand he ordered his second to leave the shop, closing the door behind him and leaving the two of you alone. That was his moment of pleasure.

The first time he entered your shop, fascinated by the silk garments and elegant suits, the shiny patent leather shoes and the cashmere coats, Vincent believed that he would find the usual snooty shopkeeper who would try to raise the prices by realizing his status. But no, you were there. So excited to be able to show off your best suits and dress him up like a fucking prince. Vincent had to call two of his men and a second car to be able to load everything he had purchased and take it home. You had shaken his hand, you had thanked him, you had given him a discount (even!) and you had suggested that he come back soon; you would have been happy to have such a passionate customer in your shop. Vincent might have believed it was a matter of money... but upon returning, noticing the way your gaze lit up when it met his, he changed his mind. You had fun with him. You loved your job. You were excited, happy… innocent. So pure. A sweet, little pastry, in fact.

Once, arranging the collar of his shirt while he was looking at himself in the mirror, you had asked him with a certain veiled embarrassment: “Monsieur De Gramont, forgive my impudence, but I really want to ask. What is your occupation?”

He had laughed. “Are you asking me about my job?” You had blushed, you had apologized stepping back but he had turned around, taking your hand before you could move away. "No need to be embarrassed, cheri. I find your curiosity quite... charming." Your cheeks were colored the sweetest red. He had lifted your hand to his lips, leaving the ghost of a kiss on your fingers. "I am a businessman. Marquis Vincent Bisset De Gramont, at your service."

He had been absolutely lovely. And he, from that moment on, had wanted in the most perverse, craziest, most intense way, to ruin you completely.

Vincent had noticed the way you watched him, so constantly attentive to every curve of his body, the way his muscles filled your clothes, stretching the fabric, wrapping it in the most attractive way. Your intoxicating gaze devoured him, and he was dying to have your hands on him, your desperate eyes, your mouth praying for his benevolence. So submissive, and desperate. Corrupted by your own will, by the desire and pleasure that only he could have brought you.

That day, without exception, you stood behind him while he looked at himself in the mirror and admired himself. But soon, his blue eyes met yours in the reflection. He smiled.

“What do you think, my dear?”

You nodded, your face bright. “That shade of red is definitely your color.”

His eyebrow rose in mock surprise. He caressed the fabric of the jacket with his fingertips, but secretly watched the way your gaze only followed his touch. Bewitching, indeed.

“I like the jacket. I love it. This scarlet is... fiery. Don't you think?” Your eyes flickered up again, and you nodded without adding anything, attempting a shy smile. "And the pants? Do I wear them well?" It was impossible not to notice the way you blushed and swallowed slowly. He bit back a satisfied grin. With his hands on the belt, he gripped it, lifting it a little. “Look at me.”

He nodded. “Maybe I should sit down, and try to feel them.”

And you looked at him. He had them so tight — you could see everything. All of it. You had to fight against your instincts and force yourself to seek his eyes again. You smiled. “I think they are perfect, monsieur.”

Vincent sat gracefully in the armchair next to him, and sighed. There was nothing innocent about his smile. And slowly, almost imperceptibly, he spread his legs. His right hand, on his thigh, went up his leg, stopped right there, so close to his —

“Sweetheart” he interrupted you, laughing loudly. You turned your eyes, deeply embarrassed and red in the face, but he seemed almost happy with your obvious reaction. “Oh, don't get all shy now, my dear.” He made himself more comfortable in the armchair, spreading his legs in an almost vulgar, cheeky way. God, he loved that game. “Come on, look at me. I know you like it. I see you — the way you look at me — and I bet you're not as fragile and innocent as you want me to think, are you?”

Now you looked at him, with your mouth slightly open and your eyes large, wide and full of bewilderment, your cheeks scarlet, your voice trembling as you stammered an apology.

He shook his head, and his face darkened. “No. I will not accept your apology” he hissed. He raised his finger and motioned for you to come closer. “Come here, little dove.”

He wanted you to stand between his open legs, and immediately his left hand grabbed your hip, while with his right he was already unbuttoning his trousers. He licked his lips like a lion at his delicious meal, hungry, ravenous. “Keep looking at me, don't look away, I know you like it” he said.

And look at you, completely disarmed, dominated by that crazy and irrational desire that he wasn't offering to satisfy, on the contrary, it was fomenting your obsession. He was a fascinating man. And a very passionate one, from what you could see. Without any shame he pulled his hard length out of his trousers, stroking himself slowly, showing you all his virility, his silky skin, his intense hardness. He was perfect.

“And I thought you were so pure, innocent” he whispered, with a certain satisfaction. "But now I see how wrong I was, you little pervert. You like watching me, don't you? Ma petite voyeur."

But his hand suddenly slipped between your legs, he lifted your skirt without shame, found your panties already so wet for him and smiled — he smiled, the bastard.

“I — oh, Marquis, I'm mortified. I didn't mean to —”

“Don't you dare apologize again. I want to hear other sounds from your mouth.”

And his fingertips pressed against the little knot of nerves, right there, causing a vibration of pleasure throughout your body. If you were honest, that exposure and embarrassment only inflated your excitement.

“You're already shaking for me.” His voice was deep, controlled. “Tell me anything you want. I want to hear you pray. I know you can. Tell me, and I will satisfy your every curiosity.”

You breathed, your sigh became labored, panting. “Please, Marquis, I...”

He laughed. His hand continued to touch his member, so hard, up and down, and you could do nothing but watch as your intimacy became wet and your hunger grew without rest. "You what, my dear? Do you want me? Is that it? Do you want my hand, my mouth?"

You nodded.

“No — no, love. Tell me.”

You swallowed, searching for a small voice in your chest. "I want you."

“What do you want?”

"All of you!" his fingers moved the panties, you finally felt his touch on you. And, hungrily, they sought the little wet hole between your soft lips. You could hear the sticky sound of your arousal on his fingers.

“Again, tell me more.”

“Your fingers, they're so — oh, oh please. Inside!”

He licked his lips. “What a good girl. You know your manners. But I don't want you so innocent darling, we know how dirty you really are, don't we?”

You shook your head, but you couldn't deny the truth to yourself.

“Tell me you're mine, tell me how much you want me.”

On the verge of tears, humiliated and excited, you nodded. “I'm yours, all yours. I — I want you so bad.”

His fingers slipped inside you, sweet and intense, touching all those perfect spots that made you moan all your pleasure. And you closed your eyes, for a moment. He stopped.

“Nu-uh, eyes on me. You like to watch. Tell me you like it.”

Yes, yes. “I love it. You are...”

“What? Don't be afraid. I want to hear everything.”

“Perfect. Your body, your...”

Oh, you were still so embarrassed. No, he wanted more. Vincent stood up suddenly, mistreated you hard, pushing you onto the chair. So, still dressed, he knelt over you, tickling your pussy lips with the head of his hard cock. You were dying of pleasure, and you looked at him excited and scared at the same time.

“I know you want it — say it. Tell me you're my little slut, tell me you want my hard cock inside you. Say it!”

And you cried, pleading. “I'm everything you want! Your whore, your tight cunt, your little slut — just give it to me, fuck me hard, now!”

And Vincent finally obeyed.

He fucked you, hard and deep, with an unprecedented ardor, grabbing your hair, your neck, biting your lips, spitting on your tongue.

“More, use me!” you begged. "Yours, only yours! I love it! Fuck my cunt — my ass. Yes, spit on my tongue, and fuck me like you mean it!”

“Dirty, dirty girl” he growled. His fingers dug into your thighs. "I knew you were a slut underneath, all mine. My little voyeur, my bad, dirty girl. That's it, take it, take it all!”

The contractions of your orgasm milked his cock, every drop of his come inside you. And you panted his name, and every dirty thing, now corrupted by that pleasure and prey to a will stronger than you. Your every word was honey. He came inside you, on top of you, making you dirty inside and out.

And looking at you like this, ruined for him, Vincent understood that you were no longer the innocent, sweet girl he thought he had met the first time.

#marquis de gramont x reader #marquis de gramont #marquis vincent de gramont #vincent bisset de gramont #vincent de gramont #vincent de gramont x reader #smut

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pvlvsdog · 2 months ago

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How would Sinners react to a proposition of skinny dipping? You don't have to write all of them ofc :3

Ohhh, you are going to be the end of me /pos /nm the way I had to ponder this for so long. I’m dying

Unedited! Slight nsfw themes (mentions of nudity) ahead!

Hmm, I think Don is all for it as a fun adventure. Like, oh cool you want to swim in a lake together, this will be so fun, you can find something to jump into the water from or splash each other. If she’d be excited for having sone fun in the lake with someone, it’d be you. Those are her thoughts for exactly ten seconds before it hits her that skinny dipping also includes both parties being naked, preferably away from everyone else and pretty intimate. Her eyes get a bit wide as she’s hit with that realization but she’s Don, of course she won’t back down. Might blurt out something like ‚naked?’ Just as that thought enters her mind, not that she minds. She just doesn’t have a filter. And is very eager to do the activity with you still. Still, her openness doesn’t mean she’ll be normal about it. I could see her making quite a ruckus about sneaking off with you (not even to show off and let others know, she’s just like that plus you gave her a lot of positive emotions to process) so your little skinny dipping session will be anything but a secret. Bonus is that for a good while after you ask, you could swear her cheeks turned a semi-permanent shade of pink. The shoes stay on of course. Even when you question her about it, she’ll respond like you’re the one being silly for expecting anything else

Again with sinners being anything but normal, we have Sinclair. He’s another one who will ask the same question of „…Naked?” But in his case it’s not prefixed with excitement and joy. Not that he wouldn’t want to do it. He just didn’t expect you to propose that and even if you did, he’s still a bit surprised that you proposed that to him. He just simply… wasn’t expecting this. And with the insight I have from reading his book, I would guess that the whole concept would bring him more stress than joy. First of all, he doesn’t like himself all that much, so the perspective of stripping in front of somebody he likes… is anxiety inducing. Besides, despite keeping it all well hidden and marinating in his brain, his mind - more often than not - leads him uh. Places. He starts thinking about things he… really feels bad for thinking in relation to his favourite coworker. About your body and the connotations of your proposition. Lewd possibilities cross his mind and with each one he feels more and more awful. This is much worse than the ambiguously wet dreams plaguing his mind (as they do in the book), since at this point he at least doesn’t realise who the motherly figure in them is. But he knows you. And he feels like he shouldn’t be thinking about you in that way. You’d find that disgusting, find him disgusting. You probably already do. And he wouldn’t blame you for that. In the past (again, in the book), it took one lewd comment about a local shopkeeper from his schoolmates to get him flustered to the point he gave up on coming to the store. And he’s not much better now. A huge part of him, one that dislikes both the inside and outside of his own self, is screaming at him to decline. But there is something in the way you look at him so kindly, waiting for his response, that pushes him to ignore his innate instinct to run. You swear you could see cogs turning in his head and steam rising (sorry, that metaphor was uh, not purposefully crafted) as he mulled everything over to finally agree. But not before asking if you’re sure. I mean… you did ask. But he’s so stressed, he would rather make sure that you mean what you’re saying. The last thing he’d want is to make a fool of himself in front of you. You reassure him that your proposition still stands and you meant it. However, when push comes to shove he probably would still, albeit apologetically, ask if he could maybe stay in his shirt and boxers. Especially after seeing you strip. With a lot of encouragement you could maybe get him to give that up, but it would take a lot and he would be… rather guarded. Either way, as time in the lake goes on, he would relax a tiny bit and it would be fun. Mostly staying emerged in water though. Give him time. And uh. Don’t look down when you two get out of the water. We all know what is happening there as his eyes nearly drill holes in your figure, but I think he would actually die permanently if you acknowledged his hhh. Reaction

Rodya is much more chill with it. She gets excited right away and praises you for the good idea. When you tell her that it would be just the two of you and that she was the first person you thought of when the idea popped into your head, she grins. Well obviously she was, who’s more fun on this bus than her~ despite the self assured words and tone, there is a bit of pride as she says it. She proposes to make it a little adventure, to sneak out and make it a fun secret between the two of you. Definitely not because she’s a bit salty that you were the one to come up with the idea. I mean she likes you, she “should” come with something special to add here to impress you. Though it’s a bit reassuring that you thought that she was the best person to share this moment with. She makes the whole event ten times better, coming up with a way to sneak off unnoticed. Even if you are concerned about Vergilius finding out, she waves you off. She’s been in deeper shit than this, no need to worry. She has a way with words, as she claims. As you two strip, she teases you a bit and shamelessly takes off her clothes, fighting against herself not to show just how much she’s seeking out your starstruck gaze. Again, she tells you to relax as she watches you strip, letting slip a comment or two that are bound to rattle your brain for the next week. But for now you two enter the water. She yelps a bit and complains that it’s colder than she’d like. Overplaying the act a little bit, though you can definitely tell she’s cold. If you’re taking the temperature worse, she’d comment on it, saying how it’s crawl who the ‘cultured’ folk is. ‘Lowly ones are too used to freezing colds, it’s very easy to see~’ she says about ‘commoners’ in a playful but matter-of-factly tone. You could easily imagine Heathcliff contemplating drowning her on the spot on a bad day if he was present. But there’s no one around. Only you and her. And despite her poorly masked insecurities, this little activity you share is sure making her feel special

I firmly believe that asking Outis to skinny dip would leave you more flustered than her. Maybe she’d be surprised at first. Taken aback. You could see something in her demeanour shift as she lets out some semi-flustered explanation that it could be amateurish considering your “service” to the company. But she has a soft spot for you. So, after asking Dante (yes, she has to ask them, it’s the ‘professional way to conduct such procedures’) she informs you at what time she’ll be waiting for you. The initial surprise has worn off and from then on, oh, you’re cooked. She’d strip in a very matter of factly fashion and when she stands in front of you in all her glory, it’s hard not to blush. At the slightest hesitance she informs you that this is nothing to be embarrassed about. Her tone both confident and a little… affectionate? You could swear there was a glint of warmth in her eyes when she said it. Genuine warmth shining through her collected exterior. Times at war are (you don’t dare to correct that with a ‘were’) tough and back in her day she had seen contless soldiers in such situations. This is nothing to be ashamed about. Didn’t you request this bonding time between the two of you? It’s a good way to bring you two closer. She proclaims so with confidence, but as her words hit her, she adverts her eyes and adds that it’s good for teamwork. So what are you waiting for? It’s hard to disagree or prolong the ordeal, so soon enough both of you get into the water. She sways effortlessly along with the current and for once you can see her expression soften a little as she goes along with your attempts at small talk. Sure, that civil, personal part of her is a little rusty, but it glimmers though the cracks as she recounts some little facts and situations from the passing days. It’s hard to let her guard down. But as she watches you, submerged in the water beside her, she feels like it’s not impossible to feel something else than a calculated need for survival

As you ask Ryoshu to indulge you in your request, she takes her cigarette out of her mouth and quirks her eyebrow at you. ‚What For?’ She questions you with amusement. No matter your reasoning, she ponders for a second, snickering a little. It’s… sort of cute you want to involve her in your plans like that. Especially since it’s a bit of a bold ask, all things considered. Finally, a smirk plays on her lips as her eyes travel up and down your figure and she replies. ‚Alright, Why Not’. She’s not bothered by the whole concept, though your daring request is for sure positively interesting to her, as I said. You two set the time (well, you do, she’s chill to go along with anything really) and she tells you to lead the way. She’s not too bothered to just walk out even if you want to go during company time. She’s curious to see where it’ll go. Only when you two did yourselves of your uniforms does she change her demeanour a bit. She’s a woman of the arts after all. And there’s nothing shameful in her gaze as it drags across your body, noting every curve and scar. She definitely has eyes of an artist. And in that moment, you feel like the finest muse she had ever had (which… could be concerning considering the type of art she dabbles in, but this time her thoughts are definitely going different places than gore. For the most part). She’s fun to spend time in the water with. Witty and attentive, she gazes at the scenery around, though each time her eyes end up on you again. Albeit she’s an enigmatic woman, it’s very clear that this experience made you two somewhat closer

The real issue when asking Faust to go skinny dipping with you is to get a straightforward answer from her. Or just any answer that would tell you what she’s thinking. But it’s Faust we’re talking about. So, when you ask her if she’d be down to go skinny dipping with you after Dante officially ends the work day (you know she wouldn’t agree if this wasn’t the case) she tells you that ‘all employees are permitted to use the next twelve hours as they please, to rest, use the restroom or destress’. She says it as if she was stating the obvious. Well, she is, in a sense, but it doesn’t mean she’s making herself clear in this context. She’s doing anything but that. After you press her a bit and explains, that her response was, indeed, a “yes”. Although a very faint smile is tugging on her lips, as she asks you about the time and for the briefest of times you could swear that her (usually very distant) gaze settled on you. Still avoiding the eyes, but as it falls below your face, you wonder if it’s about something different than her habit of avoiding looking at faces this time. With how enigmatic she is, she isn’t giving you much to go off on in terms of decoding her thoughts. Even when she shows up at the time you two agreed on (seems like she appeared just as the clock struck the exact minute, but after getting to know her, that doesn’t surprise you at all). Gracefully, her hands work their way around zippers and buttons until the last item of clothing slides off of her body, only to be folded and set aside for later. Her soft, pale skin seems radiant and she waits for you to rid yourself on the uniform as well before emerging herself in water beside you. When you look at her, her eyes barely leave the surface, tracing the lines of the ripples her movement makes against the current. However, each time you look away, you can almost feel the burning gaze that settles on your figure and takes it all in

A gentle, happy smile settles on Hong Lu’s lips as you present him with the idea. How curious! Is this some sort of a ritual or a pastime poor people have? He would love to do it, he never had the chance to~. First being hungry and now taking clothes off and getting into dirty water for fun, this job is giving him so many new experiences! He asks what the purpose is. Of being naked and swimming in some (probably at least slightly contaminated) water. You didn’t suspect he knew about the horrid state of things outside of his bubble, such as water being bad/polluted, but his state of surprise seems to be contagious when you find yourself wondering about the degree to which his ignorance is a choice. As your expression clearly changes at his words, he gives you a lazy, quizzical smile. His questions need to be answered and I, dear reader, wish you good luck because you will need all of it to explain to him why you want to be in the water - alone and without clothes - with him specifically. After he seems satisfied (though you’re sure the last one or two questions were asked in an effort to fluster you), he tells you to get him when you’re ready to depart and head towards the destination of your ‘curious activity’. Once there, he gently pulls off his clothes with a bit of excitement, clearly looking forward to taking part in your plan. Before you get a chance to lead him into the murky liquid, he happily shows you his folded stack of clothes. They look… a bit unconventional in the way he had put them, but he acts with such glee that it’s hard to stay indifferent to his achievement. He tells you that he had other people handle such things before, but since that’s a thing of the past, he had learned to do it on his own. He’s very happy to share this new skill with you. It’s after that, that you two finally go thought with your plan fully. Shivering a bit, he asks if the water will be heated up. It’s up to you if you want to inform him that it’s not how natural bodies of water work or spare him such information and assure him that the longer you two stay emerged, the warmer he’ll feel (omitting that it won’t be due to any manmade mechanisms). All in all, even something you wouldn’t personally call “and exceptional experience” is like a brand new adventure with Hong Lu by your side. His musing and eager inquiries never let you drift off or grow bored. And if you’re unsure about how stimulating a chat with him can be, I assure you that his body will provide a whole array of visual stimuli as well, all on display for your eyes to explore

Next 3 couldn’t have been written without the help of my friend (you, dear anon haha^^) and I hope I didn’t disappoint~

If you were hoping for a distinct reaction from Heathcliff, you are in luck because it is indeed, definitely strong. When you ask him if he would like to skinny dip with you (either because you like the idea and want company or have just heard of the concept and want to try it out, having picked him as the best suited companion) he looks a bit… taken aback. Sure, he can be loud and most definitely wouldn’t categorise him as shy, but he’s also not blind to the implications of you offering to strip in front of him like it’s some casual activity (it’s not to him, definitely). There’s a lot of things left over from his past and even now, it clearly shows in his approach to intimacy. Not only was he ‘undesirable’ before, he had grown to expect to not have his desires met easily and without fighting for each instance of genuine affection (such as his… favourite coworker offering to be so intimate). In his head it’s still more easy to accept being The Other, the one who pleases those he cares about, someone who constantly tries to earn each instance of affection. Despite his… quite innate state of emotional constipation, he is fond of you and by extension- thinks quite highly of you. For someone who had it so reinforced from an early age that he is below the good and pure people (well, especially one person), it makes sense for you to just be your lovely self instead of initiating anything on you own, directing your attention and intimacy towards him so blatantly. Besides that he uh… well, he is all bark no bite in a sense that he didn’t have a lot of instances where he could get experience. At best he had something like this happen once or twice when he was much younger. Both the way he is and the lingering idea in the back of his head of ‘saving himself’ prevented him from familiarising himself with more. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if the question came from someone else. But you get him worked up on daily over much less than skinny dipping. Heck, even when you look at him a bit too intensely during a bickering session he looses track for a moment each time without fail. But he wouldn’t be Heathcliff if he unpacked all of that. So instead your question will get a very annoyed ‚what for’. I mean. Your intentions aren’t that clear to him, like I said, he feels more natural when he’s chasing an idea, than when his desires become something writhing reach, something he doesn’t have to work for. Whatever you tell him to explain your request, it won’t be completely understandable to him because of that. But in the end a strange pull he feels on the inside (again, he’s not unpacking that) pushes him to grumble out something that is almost in agreement to your question. In turn he spends the remaining time being filled with way more tension that what would be considered reasonable. He’s not snappy, but something about the way he holds himself is very different. So much so, that Rodya calls it out at one point. Only then does he let his full annoyance out and while a few sinners muse on what could have set him off like that again, you’re left to wonder if you were the reason for his strange behaviour. He’s stuck between snapping at your coworkers and spacing out. His mind going back to the plans you two made. Each time, he finds that his gaze landed on you again and lets out a frustrated huff. As you two finally depart on your off time, he walks right by your side. His eyebrows knitted together and his eyes looking somewhere off to the side. On the inside he is torn. A part of him wishes to rush towards the body of water and the other part tells him to run back to the bus. In the end he simply walks shoulder in w shoulder with you. Saying nothing until you two arrive at the place. Something stops him from undressing and compels him to instead aim his gaze at you for the first time since you guys departed. It’s then that he finds himself stuck, watching you slip out of your uniform, fabric sliding off of your form 1/2

Hungrily he notes each soft curve and sharp edge that makes up your form, his eyes taking in all the ways in which light and shadow engulf your body, creating a sight he realises now, he yearned so hard to see until now. No beauty mark, no hair, no scar escape his sight. When you turn to him, you could swear that his pronounced chest is rising up and down way pre intensely than it has any business doing so. Heath doesn’t know what to do with himself for a moment. Seeing you so bare, so purposefully there - it makes all the repressed urges inside him turn into a devouring fire that leaves his body sweating and muscles tense. It somehow feels both wrong and cathartic to have someone be here with him so wholly, with such intent. This is not like fleeting glances and meek brushing of the skin that he was told over and over he was undeserving of. This here doesn’t feel wrong or undeserved. Whatever you meant by your invitation here, he can feel that you meant it. He can’t think of what he did to deserve to be chosen out of all the coworkers you two are close to. In all fairness this is so unusual because he is sure that he did not do anything. He didn’t have to dress up nicely, speak differently, act more “civilised” (we… won’t unpack that here hhh). No amount of favours and flowers caused you to trust him enough to bare yourself like that. Somehow, you just did on your own accord. Undressing takes him a second, all those notions racing in his head, having a hard time getting through over his much more thirsty thoughts as he is battling a hard time of his own. The mere fact that his is not sporting a full on erection is more of a miracle than whatever Dante does to bring him back from the dead after battles. Finally you two are naked and if he wasn’t as worked up over you, he’d get an ego boost from the way you looked at him as well. As strong as his self restraint is, even the cold water can’t keep his member flaccid once you two get into the water and he looks at the way droplets explore your body, dripping down each time you emerge from under the surface. They shine and shimmer on your soft skin before falling down and it’s safe to say he’s getting more worked up with each second. It’s even more evident when you try to hold a conversation. Although you will have to deal with his frustrated demeanour and lack of focus, he still makes it worth a while and there’s nothing to regret once your little adventure comes to an end 2/2

As soon as the question exits your mouth, Ishmael cocks her head at you. It that really what you want to do? She also asks you ‘what for?’ Though she’s certainly not as worked up about it as Heathcliff was. There’s no doubt that she has experience with bodies of water and she is the first person to inform you that bathing without any clothes is about the least practical thing you can do. Of course, jumping in with your full attire on wouldn’t work well either, but a minimal amount of clothing is actually very beneficial. She’s not judging you, but don’t expect her not to question what kind of ‘fun’ there is in skinny dipping. So it’s a whole thing and people like to partake in it? Doesn’t make much sense from a practical standpoint, but as you explain to her why it’s actually the whole point to take your clothes off when you two do it, a little smile tugs on her lips. Perhaps she does find your methods of seeking alone time… unique, but she’s not oblivious to the fact that this is you initiating an intimate moment with her. The length to which you’re going to convince her of the vital part of being naked during skinny dipping makes it hard for her not to point it out. She asks you one or two final questions that are solely spoken to fluster you a bit, but ultimately she’s open to try this out. It’s Ish that insists on setting the time and follows through to a minute, waiting to be lead by you towards your set destination. As you undress, she checks out the body of water, humming to herself and giving you updates on her finds. When she’s satisfied that no harm could be caused by your little activity, she turns to face you. Though she acts very casual, her cheeks and ears come close to matching her hair as she eyes you up and down. After a brief pause she begins to take her own clothes off. The sudden change of temperatures leaves you shivering as you two go deeper in, but Ishmael acts unphased. She notes that she did warn you that your fun adventure could turn unpleasant and lead to you catching a cold. With a small sign, she swims closely to you. Body heat transfers underwater just as easily as it does on the surface. Thus, she proposes that you two entangle your bodies closely to keep you from suffering the cruel coolness of the liquid you were so eager to submerge yourself into. Her strong arms wrap themselves around your frame and your chests press together. Though decently athletic, she’s soft and definitely warm. She holds you until it’s time to get out, making sure you don’t freeze. At least that’s the reason she gives you ;3

Right from the start, though calm and unassuming in his demeanour, Yi Sang would be pretty receptive to your idea. All nervousness you might have felt disappear as soon as he responds to your question. He might be a little quiet but it doesn’t mean he’s prudish or judgy, quite the opposite actually. So all he does is nod in agreement and ask what would be the most convenient time for you two to depart. After that, if you are vigilant enough, you might feel his eyes on you a decent amount of times. At one point you can even hear Rodya question why he’s ’smiling to himself like that’ though his answer it too quiet to decipher (and probably a bit too ambiguous to get a proper read on him). In the end he approaches you as your working hours come to an end, asking you if you’re ready to go. He’s so casual about it that it’s hard not to feel at ease, even though his veiled eagerness is definitely a bit flustering. On the way there he engages in pleasant musings with you, listening to your thoughts about the latest happenings or life in general and gladly sharing his own. He’s a bit more relaxed now, whether it’s because he’s off the clock and away from the crowded bus or because he’s speaking with you. He grows a bit more flustered when he sees you take your clothes off and avoids eye contact more than usual when he sees you looking at his naked form, but still manages not to make things too awkward. All in all it’s not a bad time and despite being somewhat a distant person, he is definitely staying pretty close to you physically, sneaking glances each time you gaze at the water you two are submerged in

With Meursault I can’t imagine a scenario that wouldn’t be a bit silly and surreal because that man really just considers private affections and urges to be not a part of his work contract and thus fails to see the purpose in carrying them out. I firmy believe even getting morning wood is a conscious choice to him. It’s not in his contract, thus he refuses to succumb to it. However, he does value your input. Whether it’s affection or ‘simple appreciation for your efficiency in the workplace’ he is willing to hear you out. It doesn’t mean you won’t have to explain and validate skinny dipping as a pastime, both in excruciating length and detail. You might have to get Dante involved, asking them to please issue an official statement allowing you to depart in purpose of decreasing stress and thus increasing productivity. Yes, it has to be phrased like that. If you get your dear (and confused) manager to comply, Meursault won’t argue. It’s not that he doesn’t want to go. But his wants are not relevant. He is an employee first, after all. It shows in the way he completely disregards any of his personal feelings on the matter. Just hums quietly and agrees. If he is flustered or nervous, it doesn’t show. The best sign you will get from him is that he seems pretty receptive, all factors considered. Another sign that he might be a bit more interested than he is lettting on is that, after your work hours end, he heads towards you with such purpose that one could assume that Vergilius himself had ordered him to. With little to no shame he says ‘the work day ended. We can go through with your plan to go skinny dipping now’. It’s said in front of everyone and you can be sure that at least a few of your fellow coworkers will have a blast bringing it up and teasing you for the next week or two. But it is a worry you will have to mull over later as, just like Meursault said, it is time for you two to leave and head towards your destination. As you lead him towards the water he stays silent and promptly begins taking his clothes off when you two stop. Even in such an intimate action he is very stoic and graceful, leaving his uniform folded by the shore and offering to fold yours as well. Without any shame in his naked, exposed self, he submerges himself. If he is cold, there’s no indication of that. It is after hours though and if you are attentive enough you will see his eyes trailing across your figure. He is yet another sinner that, if you find yourself shivering, will offer to transfer some of his warmth by standing and holding you closely. The action seems almost formal, but it’s doubtful he would propose such thing if it wasn’t you. Silence with him is comfortable. In case you initiate a conversation though, he will respond, carrying the talk effortlessly and casually. Or well, as much as his usual uptight demeanour allowed him to

There is no other way to describe the state you put Dante in other than ‘sheer panic’. For a split second they even start to wonder if they should be getting into the water at all, given their mechanical head. Only to realise that this is no different than the showers they take and will not jeopardise their life or ability to bring sinners back. If it was physically possible, you would definitely see more than one droplet of sweat rolling down their face as they look around and fiddle with their fingers. Suddenly it feels like their limbs had grown too long and their body is all wrong. They shift under your gaze, making a few surprised sounds. If you were hoping to make your poor manager a flustered mess, you sure got it. Finally they ask <is that even allowed?>. And I mean. They are the manager, so it’s not like you’re the one to tell them. They get flustered at that realisation even more. Muttering something that almost could be considered a coherent confirmation they look mortified with their own decision making skills. I mean. They are used to being mocked and used by the sinners, disregarded as a weakling by most (and that doesn’t even cover the way they get treated by those who can’t hear their speech). So it’s surprising that out of everyone you could invite, you felt the most comfortable undressing in front of them. Sure, you make a point to treat them well on the daily, but they always assumed you didn’t think very highly of them, that it was pure courtesy. The more they think about your proposition, the more anxious they get. They like you. A lot. But your question could mean that you are more fond of them than they initially assumed. And they like you so so much. Oftentimes your interactions make their day, making them feel better even after the worst of days. But they always thought it was one sided (why wouldn’t it be? You’re so lovely and they are, as of now, not even the bare minimum. Just some incompetent ‘resurrection machine’ with no memories of the past and ‘questionable humanity’). If this is some sign that you’re sending, if you really like them, they would feel bad for giving into their selfish urges. You deserve someone stronger. Someone more capable. They get so worked up over that, that when you two finally get to it and it’s time to undress they are hit with a new wave of anxiety. Once again their whole body feels so inadequate and out of place. As you stand there naked they can’t help but shrink into themselves the more your beauty hits them. They don’t even remember what is considered attractive. They know their head is definitely a turn off but as they stand with their arms folded tightly like a shield, they start to wonder if any part of them is even remotely appealing by common beauty standards. You have to snap them out of their half horny-half self deprecating gaze and lead them towards the water by their hand, making their stomach fill with butterflies. It certainly takes a while for them to relax, though they do their best to respond every time you say something. All whilst desperately reminding themselves that you aren’t able to see where their eyes are looking 0///0

Gregor is no less caught by surprise and the half grumble-half squeak he makes is definite proof. Your surprising question is definitely at least a bit dreadful. Unlike in the the scenario above, Greg is more so concerned with the physical aspect of things. He treads carefully, trying to gage if you’re not making fun of him, mocking his appearance like so many have done before. Of course, up to this point you were nothing but kind, but after being let down and made to feel lesser by everyone, there is a (rather large) part of him that wonders if you’re not about to join the rest in reminding him just how much of a lowly gross looking pest he is. His suspicion is not very subtle, so you would easily catch on. I mean, after having witnessed so many times just how awfully people spoke to him/about him, you wouldn’t struggle to, at least partially, understand the source of his approach. All you can do is be kind and hope he can read your true intent (since he won’t verbalise his exact fear, he doesn’t like to bring up his modifications if he doesn’t have to). Surprisingly, it somewhat works because he reluctantly agrees to at least try. If he changes his mind, he can just stay on the shore. That kind of setup does make things a bit better for him. If push comes to shove he figures he can just opt out, you’re not putting much pressure on him. Still, he sighs deeply and sighs, muttering something about how he ‘should be smarter at his age’. Please, that man is acting as if he’s on his deathbed whilst being 35, someone talk some sense into him…. Well, either way he follows through in his promise and goes with you at your agreed time. When someone comments on you two ‘sneaking off’ it does nothing to make the situation any more loaded. The closer you two get to the body of water, the more visibly stressed he is. Instead of engaging in his usual small talk, he stays silent as he often does when he gets reminded of his painful past. If the walk was any longer you could safely assume that he would go through his whole pack of cigarettes, if not two. He sort of catches himself spacing out by the end and tries to act like everything’s fine (I mean, in the improbable - in his eyes - scenario that you just genuinely like him, it is a pretty bad look for him to be so silent and gloomy), but there is something heavy in the air. As you reach the shore, he stands to the side. Piece by piece your uniform uncovers your naked body. Only when you’re fully undressed does he start to contemplate yet another issue that could put him in a horrific predicament. While a decent chunk of other sinners, in they were in his place, would be most worried about getting a very obvious boner, he is too preoccupied with just now beginning to stress over the sudden upsurge of strong emotion making his body transform or act on its own. And there is a definite upsurge of emotions when he lets his gaze settle on your figure. He almost doesn’t hear you when you ask if he wants to join you. He’s somewhere between flustered and worried, looking anywhere but at you whilst telling you all the ways this could go bad. Hurting you. Scaring you. Making you repulsed. That last one he doesn’t say out loud but it weights on him nonetheless. Eventually you could maybe convince him. Pressure doesn’t work but letting him know that he has a choice and you are simply glad he accompanied you is going to go a long way. Something something being denied autonomy his whole life. Or something. Aaanyways. That might just get him to join you in the water, after having taken off his clothes as well. He… doesn’t like his looks in general. As a friend of mine put it - he figures the arm at least takes the attention away from everything else. Ouch. But undressing in front of you is a huge step! Kind of has a what are we????? Ringing in his head and making his face red but he won’t say that hhhh. Only when you two go in deeper (he’s very actively trying to submerge himself in the water, though he wishes he was a bit more secure if only to have you above the surface) does he chuckle nervously

2/2 and informs you that he cannot swim. At all. You're happy to learn more about him as always but also that kind of information would be handy to know beforehand. He still doesn't trust his modifications not to act up if your naked body were to get any closer to him, so you two stay a reasonable distance away but refrain from getting ant deeper. As he relaxes a tiny bit, you get to experience his uninterrupted yapping and forget about the earlier worries for a bit. His subtle cynicism shines through his goodnatured jokes and comments and for the first tine in a while he gets to relax a bit. It might take him long to let his guard down fully but it's hard not to smile seeing him at least a bit less beaten down. All i can guarantee is that he will absolutely go over this adventure again and again in his head and for days to come will get flustered in the most random moments. But out of all the outcomes, it's not so bad to have that effect on him, is it? ;3

#limbus company headcanons #limbus x reader #limbus company x reader #limbus headcanons #limbus gregor #limbus faust #limbus dante #limbus don quixote #limbus ishmael #limbus yi sang #limbus ryoshu #limbus hong lu #limbus heathcliff #limbus rodya #limbus meursault #limbus outis #limbus sinclair

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mono-dot-jpeg · 19 days ago

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your strongest potions, shopkeeper! - blue lock

summary; in which you (the reader, not y/n) learn of the tales of rafta

genre/extra tags; scenarios?, heavily inspired by potionomics (great game), characters as potionomics characters, fluff, comedy, modern fantasy au (technically), lots of potionomics references and fantasy talk, y/n a little stupid but it's fine.

a/n; hi, i've been playing potionomics nonstop lately and it's been on my mind and I already miss my silly baptiste. he's so babygirl. and naturally, why not smush my current interests together now since I got the idea in my mind already. i wont be discussing all the characters in the game and matching them with bllk boys unfortunately as im having a hard time wondering who would be who. tbh, a lot of them could probably apply to one character KHDJDKDJ

the ingredient merchant is a teasing one. he's dry, calculating, and more than willing to add fuel to a fire during a heated conversation. but he would never do that with you. but he does live to tease you with his dry remarks and his smug grin. but he's the one who helps supply your potion ingredients, though. you don’t really know how... but you decide not to question it.

karasu tabito is a clairvoyant. he has his large all-seeing orb, which he's told you that it's how he finds all his connections to get all these ingredients. and then he's got his little chest mimic. maybe not that little.. it's bigger than a chair. and he can sit on it like a large ottoman.

he's kind of mysterious despite being one of your first friends you've made in rafta. he doesn't talk a lot of his past, and he appreciates that you don't press hard about it.

he's probably been by your side since the start, watching your growth to defeat the competition in the potion-making industry.

you fell for him first, but he totally fell harder.

"you know i've been getting a lot of visions of a person lately. from my orb." he started. "i see your...stupid face in them." he looks away from you, the large brim of his warlock hat covering the subtle blush on his cheeks. he curls in on himself slightly, resting against his floating all-seeing orb. "you.. see me? wait, does that mean i'm gonna die soon?!" you panic, flinching back at the possible implications of him seeing you in his visions. "god, you're such an idiot. i mean, yeah, we all die someday, but this.. is different. it means.. that i like you." he grumbled. "so, what are you gonna do about it?" "hm.. can i kiss you then?"

the guild master is a man of the people... despite being born with a silver spoon in his mouth. he means well. he strives to make the blue lock guild thrive! he wants to support the amazing adventurers who supply and give their recent monster loot to the potion makers who keep them alive with their adventure commissions. but it's been hard for him, really. he's been so disconnected from the normal life that he doesn't understand low class or middle-class struggles as well as most would.

mikage reo is a man who wishes to experience what most people already have. he's sick of the cushy rich life of having everything (though his mother still sends him a care package of out-of-your-budget hair care). he's a sight for sore eyes, catching plenty of attention from anyone and everyone. he's a gentleman whilst being a little.. passionate (is passionate the right word?) about his experiences and his goal to improve the guild to its rightful peak. he's also the announcer for the potion contests in rafta! he's never biased in those. i promise. (/gen)

like how he's watched you grow to be a masterwork potion maker, you've watched slowly shed free of his insecurities of the past and worrying over not being a great guild master.

he's sweet, a little eccentric, and more than an open book than he realizes. he's loyal to his goal even if the seasoned adventurers give him side eye about his past and lack of proper qualifications to handle a guild.

you fell for each other just as hard as the other.

"lately, i've been going through quite a lot as i learn how to navigate this new life. it's been stormy skies and rough seas..." he said with a sad smile, but it turns into something more softer and happier, "but you've been there for me and had so much faith in my plans." "some days i want nothing more than to go back to luxury. to relax and be free from work." he said with an annoyed frown. "luxury and riches are nice." you nodded. "but you helped me and showed me things i have never experienced." he smiled brightly. "and for that, i found myself falling for you." he pulls out a bright red rose, handing it to you. "do you want to hear the love my heart has to offer to you?" you gently take the rose with your fingertips, "i already hear it loud and clear."

the excitable new hero that was part of the guild was a fun one! he was a hero enthusiast, wanting to become a hero himself because of it. and he made it all the way to rafta! and now he helps gather new ingredients for you, ready for any dangerous adventure. he's absolutely an excited puppy. he loves doing anything as long as it was adventurous! sometimes if he was feeling really crazy, he would try the flavor of the day in the local ice cream parlor. (he cried the day he got his least favorite flavor, mozuku)

he's been kind of hung up on wanting a trophy or large weapon. so many heroes had them, so he should get one! he has to be a great hero after all! but in your eyes, he was already rather great at what he did. he's swifter than a bee and stung like one too. he seemed to have this innate talent for fighting and being adventurous. he just didn't seem to believe it when he was surrounded by hero legends or higher ranked heroes.

he's been your most supportive customer, often visited for plenty of potions or maybe a quick large order. sometimes he gives you a discount for his commissioned work out on the field.

you didn't fall for him at least, but boy, did he fall for you hard.

"it's silly, wanting to have a trophy or weapon to show off for your success." he said softly. "but i really did want one. i wanted to show that i was a great hero, you know?" he laughed sheepishly. "you might not have found one, but you really did prove yourself along the way. you're pretty high ranked, aren't you?" "yeah, it just feels weird to not have anything to show for it.." he smiled wistfully before it melts into a softer grin. "but hearing you say that i proved myself, it makes me feel so much better!" he groaned childishly, "but still! believing in yourself is hard." "well, it's easy for me to believe in you. it's probably the easiest thing i could do." he goes quiet, looking at you with adoration before blurting out, "can i kiss you?"

the succubus currently living in your literal hell of a basement is certainly a character. you had beat him in the potion-making competition and he outed himself as a demon. which wasn't much of a shocker to you, considering his less than savory scams he did with his potions. but even so, he was considerably skilled in charms and illusions more than potions. he just needed some cash.

but now that he's lost, he had found solace in your unfinished cave basement.. that had a whole river of lava running through?! you curse your uncle ego for having such an odd home that's left for you to handle. so, you unwillingly take in the damn demon before he runs amok ruining other poor souls. he's charming. you'll give him that much. he often sells you illusions and charms that would help your potions sell better. and he even gives you some pointers on how to charm the customers into letting their guard down for a great profit. he's been looking for a place to belong in a while, and your home seems to fit that bill as much as he hates to admit. he's rowdy, flirty, invasive, most things that you don't really want to have around (especially since he unsealed the magic barrier that was keeping you safe from the heat of the lava).

but overtime, you seem to find yourself liking the odd presence of him. or maybe he had unintentionally put a charm on you. you may never know.

you fell first, he fell right after.

"you know i really saw you as a threat to my business and all." he said. "it really wasn't love at first sight." he laughed. "but you're still you, even after all your big decisions to change. still the same wrecking ball that crashed into my shop and right into my basement." "i was petty about a lot of things for a long time. many many years probably. when my own home got destroyed. i was just surviving to the next day." he said, frowning slightly. "but i changed. i changed to find my way to you." "now, you're thriving." "i really am thriving. and now, whatever i decide to do with my life. i want you by my side." "i want that too." "then show me, dear."

#blue lock #blue lock x reader #blue lock bachira #blue lock karasu #blue lock reo #mikage reo x reader #reo mikage x reader #reo mikage #blue lock meguru bachira #blue lock bachira x reader #bachira x reader #bachira meguru #karasu tabito x reader #tabito karasu x reader #karasu x reader #karasu tabito

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drconstellation · 1 year ago

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Obligatory Reminders and Crossing the Lines

Have you been wondering why Shax tries to do a mail delivery to Crowley as he escorts the shop keepers to safety from Aziraphale's Eldritch Ball? It seems a pretty random thing to do at that moment.

SHAX: I brought your mail. CROWLEY: Why? SHAX: It stacks up by the front door. CROWLEY: Keep it for now, not a good time.

It's not the first time Shax has tried to give Crowley his mail. We first see her hand a pile over on the park bench in S2E1, while they have an introductory spy vs. spy catch up, in St James Park.

SHAX: I brought your mail. CROWLEY: Anything interesting? SHAX: Bills, mostly. I don't understand why they won't just deliver them to your car. CROWLEY: Send the bills to Hell's finance office. SHAX: I did. They say they can't accept my signature as your replacement.

Bills, mostly. That aren't being accepted by Hell's finance office, unless Crowley signs them. And they expect to find him in the official residence of Hell's ambassador plenipotentiary to this corner of Earth, in Mayfair.

Next, we see Crowley redefining all that mail as "junk" and discarding it.

uh huh. Lets ignore the conveniently placed disposal unit for the moment...

We need to stop and define what those "bills" actually are. Because they are not actually the financial type of bills. Well, they could be. But this is the GOmens AU, so they have a second meaning as well. Paying your bills is also meeting your duties and obligations to another party, and this is something Crowley is refusing to do right now.

I don't think its as simple as Hell being short staffed and they just haven't got around to doing the change over (I know I suggested the latter recently, sorry) and that's why they aren't recognizing Shax's signature. It's that Hell actually hasn't let Crowley go - he is still "on the books," so to speak, despite all that has been said and done since the Nope-ocalypse. He might call himself a "former demon," and he might call Hell his "former side," but that is definitely NOT how Hell sees it, despite the fact they aren't harassing him or giving him tasks to do.

Actually, that should be haven't been harassing him, because since Gabriel "disappeared," they have been back on his case. The mail is a warning sign, but Lord Beelzebub's summons really should have given you the chills.

Crowley protests that they had a "generalized understanding" that he would be left alone, but Beelzebub declares that "we don't."

Ah. So all is not as it appears. They are just playing nice because they want something (Gabriel) and in reality Crowley's position in relation to Hell really is fragile. Yet outwardly he seems more worried about Aziraphale.

It goes downhill from here. Shax begins to stalk him.

This image of Shax is just delish. The sharp "V" of her her decolletage reminds us of a stork's bill, her avatar animal, and it's stabbing down at the snake on her belt. She might be seeking the Frog Prince who escaped Heaven but she's also got a certain snake in her sights.

Shax can't can't cross the threshold of the bookshop without an invitation from Aziraphale. This plays into the old belief that supernatural creatures such as vampires, demons and faeries can only enter a house if invited in. We also see this extended to the Bentley, once "ownership" is extended to the angel, but the door of the bookshop is the important border here for now.

Then have this threat of war being declared:

War on Aziraphale, not Crowley, as they still consider Crowley to be on Hell's side. They don't see it the way Crowley does as Us and Them, to Shax there is still only Heaven and Hell.

So we come back to the second round of mail delivery:

Crowley is about to escort the human shopkeepers to safety and Shax confronts Crowley right on the threshold with his duties and obligations. He really doesn't want to have that conversation right now, not here and not with Shax. As far as he is concerned, he has no obligations to Hell any more, and he's not taking any notice of their demands in any form, either, so Shax may as well just get out of the way and take the mail with them.

And with that, Crowley crosses the threshold, leading the humans out.

At this point in the story you might be asking what's the big deal about that? Crowley has been going in and out over that doorstep several times a day lately, and has crossed it hundreds of times over the last couple of centuries since the bookshop was built. It's not a barrier to him.

The significance of this boundary line has been highlighted to us in S2. We have Shax actually telling us that she knows she can't cross the "threshold" in S2E3, then she asks again in S2E5 where the boundary line is just before Mr Brown is hauled off into the demon Legion. But its even more than that.

On one level its the line that Crowley has drawn for himself. He's not going back to Hell if he can at all help it, and he's quite resolute about that. It's his side or no one's side, from there on in. He reinforces that when talking to Aziraphale in the Final Fifteen.

On another level, I'm wondering if we could consider this a step on the eponymous Hero's Journey? Crossing the Threshold is one of the early stages of the journey where the hero crosses into danger or the unknown. We're shown things aren't normal outside by the mist and green light. Then he diverts off unexpectedly to Heaven with Muriel. Just throwing it out there to see if its worth exploring a bit further. I'd say we've only got the early stages of the journey in S2, with the remainder to come in S3.

#good omens #good omens 2 #good omens meta #crowley #shax #your mail #junk mail #crossing the threshold #drawing a line in the sand #not a good time #duties and obligations #how will our hero cope?

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vaaaaaiolet · 5 months ago

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You move to the big city in search of bigger and better, so naturally, you get your first place.

You just don't anticipate the roommate that comes along with it.

f / m, strangers / enemies to lovers, slow burn, hijinks and shenanigans, leon is bad at feelings :( but don't worry because there will be so much fluff omg like a romcom, leon being a little shit to a sweetheart pipeline, and banter!! so much banter

inspired by the Japanese drama Good Morning Call!

catch up on earlier chapters // read on ao3

chapter 4: legalese, chimney sweeps, and a partridge in a pear tree

a/n: this is a REUPLOAD bc i've been told my first post didn't show up in tags 😭 thank you so much if you read the original upload, it means the world to me :,)

I KNOW I TOOK FOREVER but i was fighting to get this written omg. so many ideas. my head hurts. if you can find the spiderman scene we are now due for a spring wedding. andrew garfield peter parker >>> but as always, i love u LOTS!! enjoy <3

There are all kinds of upsides to having friends in high places, but when your connections are limited to the four walls of Wok and Roll Ramen Noodle, the best you’ve got is Hikaru Uehara: an unlikely junior-year friend, the owner’s son, and law student extraordinaire. Apron tied with a clumsy knot behind your back, you slip inside the tiny shop only to meet his sharp eyes across the bar. Oof.

Hikaru frowns. “You’re late again.”

“I know, I know, but I’ve actually got an excuse this time,” you try for a winning smile, peeking at the book he’s currently nose deep in.

“It’s always something with you. Still house hunting?” He slides a bowl of kitsune udon across the bartop, “Number 43, table next to the creepy painting.”

He shoots, he scores! You catch the bowl and head off to the hungry patron.

“You know, my dad finished our basement yesterday and we’ve got an empty room now. I told him I’d ask you.”

“Because you’re offering it free of rent, right?”

A not-at-all-subtle grin pulls at the corner of his mouth. “What about an employee discount?”

“In your dreams, Uehara.”

43 asks for an extra pair of chopsticks, which you gladly deposit before taking the barstool opposite the shopkeeper’s son. It turns out he’s reading one of his textbooks for law class. Perfect. You roll up your sleeves and bust out your CEO face again.

Here goes nothing. “I kind of got myself into a mess.”

“I don’t want to hear about the thing with your fern and the toilet again.”

“What? No, ew,” you wave all associated memories of that away, “no, seriously. I found a place, but I’m kind of…stuck in it. I need you go all Elle Woods and help me because I got scammed.” And also broken into, but you mentally plead the fifth and avoid self-incriminating yourself. “The lease is forcing me and this other guy to share the place and neither of us know how to get out.”

That gets his attention; Hikaru puts down his textbook. “Okay, maybe you do have an excuse this time. What the hell?”

The Sparknotes version is that you and Leon both filed for the same apartment within half an hour of each other.

Number 44: cold soba.

Your landlady’s as good as fled the country. Leon can’t reach his either. Hikaru sucks his teeth.

Number 45: miso soup.

You’ve both agreed to share the apartment for the three months of the lease considering the mini fortune of money blown on the deal.

“$6000? Really?” he gasps. “You do know how much this job pays you, right?”

“Then pay me more!” you shoot back, multitasking refills while balancing a full tray.

45 again: miso soup on the house. Hikaru hands you a mop for your spill as you glare, but pulls out his laptop all the same.

“Well, if you’re fine with sharing the apartment for two more months…” he hums, typing away and whistling in approval as he finds your apartment listing, “your place isn’t bad at all considering the price. Plus, you can’t request to move back in just like that if we lodge a complaint and you win. What if this Leon turns out to be an alright roommate?”

His question irks you a little. Why would you want the apartment back with a weirdly cagey roommate who shotguns (emphasis on gun) the master bedroom? You’ve got reason enough to want a place of your own after the shitshow that was college last year. You wonder if you should lay out all Leon’s teen boy-esque rules about not touching his things, but Hikaru shakes his head the minute you open your mouth.

“I know it’s not what you want to hear, but maybe the best course of action is to wait the storm out.”

He sounds sincere for once, turning the laptop screen around to show you a 37-page long document with your building’s name embellishing the top. His fingers just keep scrolling, and scrolling, and scrolling, and dear God.

"That's the complaint form?" Your shriek rattles 45’s bowl worryingly.

“The first half, yes. Should I email you the second?”

Number 46 has the nerve to comment on your face looking more blanched than her bok choy.

That evening, you close the Wok and Roll with a heavy heart. Your phone pings as you double check the locks.

[Hikaru]: srsly ur best waiting out ur contract

Well damn, Hikaru. Friend of the year.

[Hikaru]: but since u asked (and rescued that last order)

[Hikaru]: i’ll still look for ways to get u out of there and on ur own

[Hikaru]: after finals tho

[Hikaru]: and once u start coming in on time!!

You pump your fist with a self-indulgent whoop outside the restaurant doors. Hikaru might be a pain to deal with sometimes, but he really did come through when he wanted to. Consider your now-thriving toilet fern that he put together a pot for, and soon with a little bit of luck, your eventual solo apartment life.

You eagerly text back a thank you. Not even the winter air buffeting your face could put a damper on your mood as you skip back home to your apartment, and consequently, to Leon.

Or at least you thought you were. The apartment is lovely and warm and quiet when you unlock the front door.

“Hello?” You call out for him, looping your scarf onto the wall hook.

No response.

Leon’s bedroom door’s cracked open though, and the light looks off. It’s only 7 PM. Did he tell you he was going out? Crap, you realize how ill-prepared you’d been to not get his number or anything before you left. Rookie mistake. This roommate business is harder than you remember.

You toe off your boots and tiptoe toward the master bedroom.

No messing in each other’s rooms, Leon’s phantom voice prods at the back of your head, but your concern for his wellbeing — okay fine, maybe you just want to peek at his stuff that’s so damn secret — takes over as you push his door open and slip into the darkness that’s making it impossible to see.

So you flick on the nearby lamp.

And then you scream. “What are you doing?”

Tucked in bed as snug as a bug and fully dressed, complete with shearling jacket, is Leon Kennedy with his face dirtied to high heaven. He blinks crossly as the lamp flickers to life.

“Huh?” His voice is gruff with sleep.

“You’re sleeping…like that?”

He looks down as if registering himself for the first time. “I’m…yeah. Tired.”

“What happened to your face?” you ask, sounding reedy. “It’s filthy.”

“It is?”

You nod sharply.

“Oh? Oh yeah, yeah, I was cleaning the chimney.”

“We don’t have a chimney. Leon, we don’t even have a fireplace.”

He fumbles out of his covers at your bug-eyed look. His room is absolutely freezing. “I have an explanation, I swear,” he starts as you back into the living room. Leon looks even grimier in the light: soot dusts his shoulders like powdered sugar, ages his hair salt-and-pepper, bruises the knees of his jeans. “Last night, I couldn’t sleep. There was something wrong with the heating so I went to check.”

Your room is perfectly warm. The house is perfectly warm.

He nods. “That’s cause I fixed the rest of the apartment, my room’s sti-” And then stops, narrowing his eyes. Whatever Leon did to fix the heating couldn’t have kept the temperature from dropping several degrees as he hisses, “You came into my room. We had a deal.”

“I had no idea you were even home!”

“Doesn’t negate the fact that you broke the rule.”

Everything flips in a second; he’s glaring daggers, and the entire situation is so petulantly infuriating that you take his bait. The snow from your coat is making a melted mess on the carpet. Leon’s still in his stupid dirty jacket. The living room is half-unpacked from moving in literally the day before, and you’re already having your first argument with your roommate over stepping three feet into his bedroom.

“What is so goddamn important about the stuff in your room?” you finally explode.

“You don’t get it.”

“Leon,” you sound embarrassingly close to pleading now, “you wanted this – this whole sharing thing – but now you’re not giving me a chance?” You let your arms fall to your sides.

Hikaru wanted to know if you could last three months. But as Leon stares at you, jaw working like he’s having a one-man argument inside his mouth, you wonder how you’ll tell your friend you couldn’t even last three nights. Frustrated tears prick at your eyes. You’ve never been good on the debate team back in high school. How long is it going to take for Leon to snap at you for that too?

“It’s not you,” he says softly.

You smother a sniffle with your coat sleeve, making him sigh.

“It’s not you,” he repeats, shaking his head to himself, “God, Hunnigan, you’re never this sloppy…” Shucking off his coat, he drops it on a box labeled Seasonal Decor #2 before heading back inside his room. He appears moments later with a box of tissues. “Take one before I get them covered in coal, yeah?”

As you hesitatingly accept, you take in his form sans jacket. Leon is – alarmingly built, for one – covered in scratches. Bruises. Real ones. Fresh.

They’re littered along his muscled forearms, right up to the tops of his fitted black shirt sleeves. He’s so close to you that you even notice a silvery scar topping his right cheekbone.

“Are you…okay?”

Mystery swirls around your roommate like the soot he’s covered in. You ball up the tissue in your hand as his brow gradually smooths out, anger dissipating.

“It’s my job,” Leon reveals. “Everything, this apartment, the stuff I’m keeping in my room, I…I work for the government, okay? This apartment was supposed to be home base for me. There’s stuff in there I can’t have anyone messing with. Stuff that could hurt you.” He pulls out a gleaming badge and lets you inspect it as your hand slowly flies over your mouth. “See?”

The gun in his pocket. The phone call.

“But you’re not going to hurt me…right?” you dare to ask.

Leon’s eyes go wide, blond head shaking swiftly. “Never, I swear. Trying to do the opposite, actually, but that’s not going too great right now. I’m here to stop somebody from getting their hands on something that could hurt a lot of people.”

It’s a little surreal. Your once-burglar roommate turned government agent blinks at you like you’ll turn any moment, like you’re about to scream and run for the hills, so he can’t help but flinch as you reach for another tissue and whisper, “Can I?”

“Can you what? I can’t let you look at my things, again, I-” Leon tilts his head as you wrap the tissue around your index and middle fingers, and then rifle through the Seasonal Decor #2 box. “What are you doing?”

“Got it!”

You turn around, revealing a modest first aid kit in your hands.

“You keep that with your Christmas decorations?” He lets out a short laugh.

“I drop a lot of ornaments. Should really invest in plastic ones.” Fishing out a small bottle of ointment for Leon to see, you shoot him a redeeming grin. “So can I?”

He smiles. “You may,” Leon concedes, allowing you to settle him on the couch.

Leon’s bedroom seems to drop in temperature as the evening blends into night, falling to a bewildering 38 degrees while the rest of the apartment remains toasty. Ice might be frosting his windows, but thankfully, it only melts between you and Leon as you dab ointment into his cuts and he entertains you with sanitized anecdotes from his work around the world. The living room clock ticks to 10 o’clock as you two share the next best thing to dinner: a stash of rice crackers swiped from the back of the Wok and Roll.

“There’s no way you’re sleeping with a jacket on.” You jut your chin towards his room, hissing in sympathy as he jerks from the alcohol sting. “It’s just as bad as sleeping outside in the snow.”

“I’ll sleep on the couch,” Leon munches. He holds out a cracker for you to bite, an oddly intimate gesture that he doesn’t seem to put as much thought into as you, “it’s plenty warm out here.”

“And have you spend the night on a lumpy sofa with a million bruises on your back? That’d be evil, Leon.”

He shrugs. “I’ve slept through worse.”

“Yeah, because you were probably halfway across the world in some random jungle!”

“It was just the one mission, come on,” he protests, his eyes sparkling with mirth. “I’ll be fine, I promise.”

You shake your head. The tail end of his bandage tucks neatly under his arm as you finish patching him up. It’s been an eventful night, and with each genuine laugh you share with Leon, the more you feel like extending an olive branch for everything that’s happened so far. You even feel a little bad for the Lena thing.

“Sleep in my room for the night. Take the bed,” you suggest.

“It wouldn’t be very chivalrous of me.”

“And calling dibs on the master bedroom was?”

“I needed space for my equipment!”

You lift an unimpressed brow.

“Touché.” Leon gives in, chuckling.

So it’s settled. You pull out a mass of blankets from a box next to the fridge (Winter Camp Sophomore Year EMERGENCY SUPPLIES) which Leon insists on expertly fashioning into a nest beside your bed. It’s piled high with pillows from his own bed by the time you come back from brushing your teeth.

“It makes me feel better about this whole thing,” he admits when you laugh at it.

It’s either him or his pillows that make you feel warmer sleeping on the floor than you did in your bed last night. Leon's unexpected warmth might be your Christmas miracle to make up for this apartment fiasco. The stars twinkle outside your bedroom window as you drift off to sleep.

Deep in your dreams, you miss the twinkle of something else too.

A ping to be specific.

[UNKNOWN NUMBER]: Hiding him from me already?

back to the chapter masterlist...

comments and reblogs are very much appreciated <3 take care and i love you!

#leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy fluff #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy fanfic #leon kennedy fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #vaaaaaiolet

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coffee-and-tea-time · 5 months ago

Note

Hey, I know the vote isn't done yet but I was wondering what our first interactions would be like with them all?

We can certainly arrange that!! Ask related to this post!

*Internally kicking his feet like a little girl seeing so many interactions with our post* ( • ᴗ • )

although maybe it’s a little short since we would rather leave more context for the actual posts - Tea

I read wrong a comment and thought they were requesting a shop owner when in truth they were talking about the seller, now the shop has an extra character *look into the abyss in poor reading comprehension*

In my defense, google said 'shopkeeper' was an equivalent to shop owner *disappointed of herself in non-native english speaker* but oh well, the more the merrier (ʃƪ＾3＾）～♡- coffee

ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗᕕ( ᐕ )ᕗ ↔ ♪⁽⁽٩( ᐖ )۶⁾⁾ ₍₍٩( ᐛ )۶₎₎♪ ⬅ representation of the twins receiving incentives to post

Word count: 2k

tw: yandere behavior, nonhuman yanderes, human yanderes, delusional, RIP self-preservation, written in you/yours, willing reader

-`♡´- Dizie -`♡´-

You walk into your house, still submerged in your own thoughts as you walk through the door.

"Uh, maybe I should arrange something to welcome Dizie when he arrives? I hope I don't come off as awkward..."

But... Why is your place so dark?

You hear the door being slammed shut and as you attempt to turn towards it, a hand snakes over your mouth with a delicate yet firm touch as another coils around your waist from behind.

"You were worried about my first impression of you? That's… really cute"

The voice of a man purrs near your ear and then you feel his face gently nuzzling with the top of your head like an affectionate cat, a rather deadly one.

"I took the liberty of checking around your home, you know, to make sure everything is like it's supposed to be, to make sure nobody else is lurking around… I'm so glad that isn't the case, you're all mine to cherish… only mine"

You feel his nuzzling being replaced by a soft kiss on the top of your head, as the slender hand covering your mouth moves to gently hold your face while his thumb gently rubs your cheek.

[Clarification: Dizie is NOT stuck in his past or still in love with the last “darling” he was bought by. He doesn't see the reader as a replacement of any sort. We want to get that out of the way from the get go, he's just traumatized (as he probably should be ngl) - the twins]

-`♡´- Gabriel -`♡´-

Tossing your keys onto your couch cushion you let out a soft sigh, the walk back home was rather awkward, well, as awkward as can be with a man following behind like a lost puppy, his eyes practically piercing the back of your head. You wondered why he kept walking behind you but brushed the thought out quickly as you felt him let out a veery faint sigh of awe while glancing around your home.

“it smells just like you-”

The man whispered to himself, his words quiet yet the silence of you both being alone allowed you to hear him very clearly. flattering, but also a little unnerving.

How did he manage to smell you when he was walking like a meter away from you?

His hands fidgeted as you glanced back at him, his eyes landing on your form still basking in the sight like you were some sort of divine entity before him.

“This must be Gabriel then”

you thought, connecting your choice with the man that just randomly started following you which you didn't have the heart to scare away.

When the seller said he was a worshiper… he wasn't exaggerating.

Shakily, he reaches for one of your hands, clasping it tenderly with both his hands, completely engulfing yours with the warmth of his nervous fidgeting. His cheeks blaze red by the mere idea of touching your skin.

He leans down, pressing his forehead to the back of your hand, taking a shaky breath, then looking up to meet your gaze with pure adoration.

“I'm so incredibly thankful to be in your presence, darling. I'm so glad you chose me…”

(A person called him and Grier 'pathetic little mew mews' and now that lives rent free on my head; if you read this, I love your energy - coffee)

-`♡´- Oliver -`♡´-

This man is eager, that's for sure. There's no denying it as he practically drags you with him to his bakery as soon as your finger grazed his name on that paper.

You couldn't say a thing though, that wide smile on his face was just as sweet as the scent that wafted through the air as you entered the shop with the jingle of the welcome bell.

You were ordered to sit back and enjoy a cup of coffee with some butter cookies for the wait. He wanted to make something special, he said, quickly diving into the kitchen without saying another word.

You took a small bite of the cookie thinking perhaps there was something in it, but if you were his darling now then it shouldn't be anything harmful, should it? The cookie was… just any normal cookie, it was delicious even, buttery and crumbly, mixing perfectly with the rich flavor of the coffee.

Your mind drifted to the man’s appearance as he gave you constant glances, peeking from the kitchen a little too often, it was adorable in a way, like he was checking if you were still there. There was no need to check though, he had locked the entrance as soon as you walked in and you had totally noticed. You weren't going anywhere.

A few minutes later he peeked again, though this time with a tray in his hands, he approached and placed it in front of you, a delicious slice of cheesecake greeting you. He smiled proudly as he saw your mouth water and as you eyes scanned the delicious treat you couldn't help but notice the fresh cut on his finger already bandaged up yet still bleeding a bit through the gauze… how deep was the cut? The blood was so red it didn't look like a superficial wound.

“I'm just a bit nervous, Dear, i wanted to cut it perfectly for you… my hand must have slipped”

He reassured you, dismissing the severity of it but quickly hiding the cut from you. His sheepish smile though made you forget about it for a hot minute- how was this bulky man such a sweetheart?

Your fork soon dug into the creamy goodness of the cheesecake, the raspberry sauce that sat on top dripping a bit, its rich red color almost resembling that of his blood. What a passionate baker…

(...I love him, okay? -Tea)

-`♡´- singer -`♡´-

The door of the car is opened before you get the chance to even lift a finger and you are greeted by the angelic face of a man, worthy of praise and worship, smiling down at you and offering his hand as to help you get out of the car

"Hi~, welcome welcome, how are you feeling on such a joyful day as today? I hope that you are as thrilled as I am"

He says with a charming smile, holding your hand delicately for you to exit the car then guides you into his house, his eyes ogling you like a three course meal.

"Would you like something to drink? A water perhaps? I don't really have much sugary drinks since i take care of my vocal cords, but if that's what you'd like then I'll absolutely find a way to get it for you"

"Oh, I'm really fine, don't wor-"

His step falters before stopping dead in his tracks, his smile softening in… awe? He shuffles closer as your voice trails off by the sudden action.

"Oh, Honey, I'm so sorry to interrupt your words, I just couldn't help but get closer… you speak so softly, I'd wish to hear you more clearly"

He puts his hand on your shoulder reassuringly, though it quickly moves up to your neck, his thumb caressing your throat.

"You shouldn't overthink too much, your duty here is being happy with me, and when I'm not around, feel free to enjoy your free time as you wish; my only condition here is you take care of yourself and… to not look at anyone else in the eye for too long… but well, you should’ve already expected that, you signed for it, honey"

-`♡´- Myotis -`♡´-

You feel your heart on your throat as the butler opens the door for you, as you make your way inside, you feel like you walked straight into a historical movie of some sort, if the outside looked already out of a gothic fairytale, you can't find the words to describe how impressive the inside is.

"I'm glad you seem to like the place, Amore, that makes things easier for both of us. I hope you can forgive my eagerness to meet you"

You can't help but get surprised when you notice him right beside you, speaking to you dearly as he grabs your hand as if it was made of glass to softly kiss the back before giving you a smile.

"Fear not, you can always indulge yourself and wander around to enjoy the mansion, but I rather that the precious focus of your gaze be on me, I’d be delighted to spend as much time with you as possible, don't you think so?"

-`♡´- Lior -`♡´

You enter your home excited, wondering if you should get some fairy lights and stuff for the yandere you chose when a rustling in the distance disturbs your thoughts, grounding you back to reality.

You make your way in the direction of the noise and find yourself standing in front of your bedroom window where the poor moth boy flutters his wings trying to squeeze past the small gap, half of his body still hanging outside the window. This must be Lior.

"I-I'm sorry, I didn't want to disturb you, I just thought I would be able to fit in the open gap"

You truly can't help but giggle at the situation, okay, he is really cute for a yandere, the seller sure speaks the truth.

He grumbles uncomfortably, wiggling his way inside your home. His satchel almost falling out the window, but he manages to grab it mid air. Fast reflexes, that's a plus.

"I brought a present with me!"

He sighed out in relief while holding his satchel. With some effort due to his limited movement, he is quick to lift his bag and rummage through it, proudly lifting in the air a big cinnamon scented candle.

“Some light for my daylight! I-I thought you'd like it, though I'm not allowed to use candles… I always burn myself with the wax”

(he's my baby and i love him, thank you very much. -tea)

-`♡´- Tarak -`♡´

"Huh, what a gorgeous being…for a human… I will accept your proposal"

The dragon says in a low husky voice, gazing at you with a smirk, his hand gently lifting your chin so that your eyes meet his.

"You were the one that got chosen, not the other way around"

The seller quickly remarks, the humanoid dragon clicking his tongue in response.

“Same difference... the order of the factors does not alter the product after all, we are united either way”

Even if the humanoid acts roughly with the seller, Tarak gently puts your hand on his arm and holds it there as he walks outside of the store with you. What a gentleman.

"You are going to love the forest, of course, my cave is most enchanting, but I did in fact go out of my way and make a cabin next to it, everything is already taken cared of, I know not every species has the resilience to prosper in my environment, but, well, your ancestors used to live in caves... so maybe you can manage"

“Is my home not an option from the beginning?”

You say a little nervous, not sure if you can actually survive in a forest without being eaten alive by the wildlife, although you must admit that is kind of a silly thought if you think of the power of a dragon like him.

He looked like he was about to protest your request, but just your scent in the air was all he needed to sense your feelings and give you a look as he relaxed his shoulder in defeat.

"... alright, I'll indulge you, we have a lot of time in our hands to adjust to the changes around us anyways, I'll stay at your home until you are comfortable enough to come to mine, I will make sure to adorn it in any way you please for when that time comes"

He gently messes with your hair as a way to reassure you before he resumes walking, following you to your home.

-`♡´- Grier -`♡´

The seller goes down the wooden ladder after taking the tape off the camera lense and signs for you to come closer to it.

"The cameras here don't have sound but showing you to him should be enough of a clue all by itself"

You freeze as the security camera focuses on you, standing there, you wave awkwardly and the camera starts moving side to side abruptly before freezing, like the person behind it moved away from it.

"Well, either he fainted or he is coming right away!"

The seller says in a cheerful voice as he goes to cover the camera lense again with a strip of tape. A couple of minutes pass before you hear the screeching stop of a car parking in front of the shop hurriedly, soon followed by a panting man who barges inside like his life depended on it.

“I’m here! I'm here!!”

He says almost tripping on his own feet as he shoves in your face a bouquet of your favorite flowers.

"Oh, those are my favorites! Thank you"

"I-I know, don't worry, I made sure to do a quick background check on your medical history so I don't trigger any allergies, I promise I will gather more information tonight! Don't worry"

-`♡´- The seller -`♡´

"I already told you, I'm not a yandere"

"How did you know I don't go out?"

"You're practically chronically online! It's just a lucky guess"

"My screen time is something even weirder for you to know!"

"..."

"... don't tell management"

[Clarification: yes, the seller’s is shorter, that's because as far as we can tell, he's most likely to win first place in the survey so we are saving up most of his character and interactions for his main post (⁠｡⁠•̀⁠ᴗ⁠-⁠)⁠✧ - the twins]

-`♡´- …owner? -`♡´

…???

"Oh, that's an interesting turn of events, so many options yet the button you press is not even part of the survey..? How experimental”

The owner let out a rich laugh as he spoke his usual nonsense to catch your attention through the speakers of the shop.

"Ah yes, 'nonsense'. What a disappointing excuse.."

The owner argued with himself under his breath before he sights.

"Want something to drink?"

*Ejem* little clarification (it's the third one now in this post, get a grip. - tea to himself), characters that aren't in this survey have already been requested in asks or comments or, well, won the first survey. we haven't forgotten about them, we are already working on their posts 💚 - tea

Don't forget! If you like something specific, you can ask freely! As I said before, we love interactions! (Attentions seekers? More like validation seekers lol) - coffee

sorry for any misspellings or weird sentence structure ❣

Divider by tea ✌️ (i know I'm amazing/j)

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