#not much vincent but tbh you know he isnt going to be allowed to bring someone home without bo saying yes

[meat-husband]

Do you think you'd write a part two to that yandere!vincent piece you wrote? :0 I haven't stopped thinking about it, it was soo good!

Well, this is like the third or fourth one now lol but here’s a lil origin story for how reader came to be in the basement.

I am boo boo the fool and completely forgot to q this, so it’s a day late lol

-

The shop you worked at was dirty, a grimey place that stayed open 24/7 to cater to the main clientele, the long haul truckers that came in off the interstate. It provided quick food and as many cups of coffee as you could drink, so long as you didn’t mind the rundown environment, but it wasn’t the kind of place that anyone expected five star meals from.

Opposite to most places, the peak hours were almost exclusively late at night, when most drivers needed to stop off for something to keep them going overnight. The daytime shift was slow, a trickle of people that dried up into nothing as the afternoon went on, with only the occasional customer. The food you sold was all premade convenience store fare, hotdogs and chicken left in a spinning rotisserie until someone was desperate enough to buy one, so you usually spent the downtime reading, tucked into a chair behind the counter. You barely looked up when the bell rang, signaling the arrival of another customer. In any other store it might have been rude not to offer some sort of hello, but the people that came through here were blunt and rough edged, getting in and out with little to no small talk.

“Hey, there.”

You drop your book, standing to ring up whatever has been laid on the counter, but you find it empty. You look up, meeting the eyes of the man across from you, but he has nothing in his hands and judging by the way he approached the counter, he wasn’t interested in looking around.

“Smokes?” You ask, already turning to flip open the display case.

“No, thanks,” he replies with an easy smile, leaning an elbow on the counter between you. “Not lookin’ to buy anything today.”

You frown at him. He was handsome, dark hair and sharp brown eyes, and the twitch of his lips as you looked him over told you that he knew it. His clothes were plain and worn, dirty from work, and he didn’t necessarily look out of place, but he didn’t look like a trucker either.

“Well, this is a store,” you tell him, sliding the display door closed. “If you’re not gonna buy anything, ain’t no point comin’ in.”

That gets a laugh out of him, smile widening, but his good humor only irritates you. You might not have been busy, but that wasn’t an invitation for him to come wandering around looking for conversation.

“I’m sorry,” he said, and it sounded genuine, tamping down his amused tone to something more charming. “I don’t mean to bother you, I just came in because of my brother.”

He gestures vaguely over his shoulder and you lean to the side to look out the dingy window. The parking lot is big, a shared space with the weigh station next door. A few trailers are parked across the way, but the spots closest to your shop are empty, except for one. A beat up old thing, streaked with mud and trailing a bumper that was tenuously held in place, stood a few rows back. Someone may have been in the cab of the old truck, but it was too far away to see.

You turn your eyes back to the man in front of you, frowning again. “Okay, then what’s he want? You said you weren’t buying anything.”

“Well, we’ve been by a few times before. Just stopping in from time to time, you know.”

You supposed this might be true, even though you don’t recognize him, but there weren’t really any regulars out here, so you didn’t bother to remember names or faces. He stops to give you a look that you think is supposed to be charming, but you’re at the edge of your patience already. He’s not spending money, so you’re not getting paid to stand here and listen while he tries to talk you up.

“My brother, now, he’s pretty shy -”

Here we go, you think, crossing your arms and glaring. Of course it’s all an elaborate set up, probably to ask for your number. It’s not the worst excuse you’ve heard, and it’s a good deal more polite than you’re used to, but there’s no way you’re sending this guy away with anything but a firm no.

“- so he didn’t want to come in himself, but he’s got quite a crush on you, and -”

“No.”

He stops, tilting his head to the side and looking at you with a confused smile that borders on annoyed. “‘No’ what?”

“You can’t have my number, or know when my shift ends, and I don’t want your number - or your ‘brother’s’.”

The smile slides from his face, straight into a nasty glare, face twisting with anger. It makes you pause for a moment, a trickle of fear running through the back of your mind, but there is a little bit of satisfaction at seeing the arrogant look wiped off his face.

He stands up, taking his elbow off the counter.

“Alright, fine.” He spits the words at you, turning back towards the door.

You watch him stalk away, a little bit of relief flooding you, but it doesn’t last for long. Halfway to the door, he stops, raising both hands as if in surrender, and slowly turns back to face you. He gives you a forced smile, taking a few steps towards the counter.

“Alright, maybe we got off on the wrong foot,” he starts, and you can’t help but roll your eyes. “Why don’t we start over, huh?”

“Sure.” Your voice is sour, arms crossed over your chest and eyes glaring, but he continues despite your obvious frustration.

“My name is Bo,” he says, putting obvious effort into keeping his tone friendly. “Nice to meet you.”

You bite out your first name in return, quick and short, hoping to get this over with and send the creep on his way. His forced smile doesn’t waver, plastered over his face like a mask.

“Now, like I was saying, my brother is a little shy,” Bo repeats, his demeanor slowly becoming more calm as he speaks. “But I noticed Vincent makin’ eyes at you whenever we came by, so I thought I’d come in and put in a good word for him.”

You stare at him for a moment, letting the silence linger between you to make sure that he’s done with his pitch. Bo returns your stare, tensed shoulders betraying the irritation that lurked under the friendly veneer he had put up.

“Alright. Good word duly noted,” you reply, voice even. “That all?”

He stares at you, face slack with confusion at first, but you see the spark of anger light up his eyes when your words finally hit him. When he turns around, throwing the shop door open on his way out, it’s not the reaction you had expected. It was an abrupt end to the unpleasant conversation, but you couldn’t say that you weren’t happy to finally have the man out of the store.

-

Working the morning shift means you’re not out of the store until late afternoon, the cool fall sky already going dark, and by then all thoughts of the encounter were out of your mind. You hadn’t been fortunate enough to snag a ride home, so no car waits for you in the parking lot, and the walk home is the only thing you’re thinking of when you leave. It wasn’t a dangerous area, exactly, but a cheap convenience store just off the interstate wasn’t a good place to be caught off guard, either.

The parking lot exits onto a small paved road, more of an alley that branches off from the main street. On the far side there is a larger path closer to the interstate, usually lined with parked trailers, and the weigh station in the distance is the only source of light once you leave the first row of spots outside the shop. You head towards the little road, eyes on the ground as you walk the familiar path, and you wouldn’t have noticed him at all if it weren’t for the sudden spark of headlights ahead of you.

An old truck is parked at the edge of the lot, lurking in the darkness just outside the exit onto the road. The engine rumbles loudly when it’s started, headlights burning white in the shadows and your attention is immediately pulled towards it. The door jerks open, a figure leaning half out of the truck, and you frown when you recognize who it is.

You need to walk past the vehicle to get to the road, so you firmly plant your eyes on the ground, hoping to slide around it and stay out of the headlights. Even if he does spot you, you reason, the jacket and hood you’ve slung over your work clothes might be enough to keep him from recognizing you.

The truck is leaking exhaust and your eyes water as you approach, raising a hand to rub at them. Your gaze leaves the ground for only a moment, but they land on the figure now coming around the front of the truck. He lifts a hand in greeting and you huff, annoyed to see that he had, indeed, noticed you. You look at him from the corner of your eyes as you pass, trying to avoid meeting his eyes. Had he been waiting for you? It couldn’t have been a coincidence that he was lingering outside as you left, but you didn’t recall seeing him after that morning.

“Hey!”

The sudden shout startles you and, against your better judgement, you look up at him in surprise. There is a smile on his face, friendly and charming, just as he had been when he had introduced himself.

You give him a half nod, feeling awkward that your attempt to ignore him hadn’t worked out, and turn to leave, picking up the pace as you walk away. The feeling of eyes on your back makes your skin crawl, but you don’t turn around.

Footsteps, loud and fast, follow you along the cracked pavement. The sound makes your muscles tense, a spot on the back of your head tingling where you imagine his eyes are focused, and your heart beats faster the closer they get.

You turn at the last second, facing him with a scowl on your face.

“Are you following me?”

He smiles. It probably should make you scared, but through the adrenaline you’re just irritated, seeing the annoyingly smug look he’s fixing you with.

“Sorry, just tryin’ to get your attention,” he replies, stopping a few feet away and putting his hands in his pockets. “I wanted to apologize, you know, for earlier.”

You find your frustration with this man growing by the second. The brief encounter you had had this morning was hardly on your mind hours later, so you couldn’t see why he was so determined to not only bother you even more, but to keep bringing up his past rudeness.

“Yeah, alright,” you agree with a sigh, already starting to turn away. “It’s fine, don’t worry about it.”

“Well, that’s kind of you,” he says, stepping to the side and keeping himself in front of you. “But I feel real bad about it, and I’d like to make it up to you.”

Your eyes narrow and you feel yourself go from irritated to pissed before he’s even finished saying the words. How persistent could one man be when you were very obviously not interested?

“Can you please fuck off?” You can see that the sudden venom in your voice catches him off guard. “How creepy is it to follow someone around a dark parking lot trying to hit on them after they’ve already said no?”

It takes him a moment to think up a reply, but you can see the outrage on his face.

“Hey,” he snaps back, all the friendliness gone from his voice and his face red from anger. “Don’t fuckin’ flatter yourself, I already told you it’s my brother -”

You cut him off with a mocking laugh, watching as his face reddened further. Maybe he was angry or maybe he was embarrassed at being called out, but you don’t want to spend anymore of your day talking to him.

“Yeah, whatever you say.”

The parking lot is big and dark, but somehow you feel safer walking into its shadows than trying to pass by the old truck parked next to the exit. You’ll take the long way around to avoid him, you decide, mentally mapping out your path. The median between the pavement and the road was uneven and overgrown, but you would risk slipping in the underbrush if it meant you could go in the opposite direction from him.

The familiar sound of footsteps, heavy, angry breathing and the metallic pop of a car door all reach your ears at once. You’re grabbed by the arm, too fast for you to even think of resisting, too fast for you to even turn and face the man behind you. He has you overwhelmed in a fraction of a second, taking control of your body’s movements and wrenching your arms behind your back with a practiced ease.

You cry out, a confused noise that you don’t mean to let out, trying to spin your head around far enough to see him over your shoulder. A rough shove forces your arm further into an awkward position, a sharp white pain seizing up your shoulder, but you can’t wiggle away.

“You should have been nice,” the man snarls into your ear, hot breath on the side of your face. “Would have turned out better for you that way.”

He sounds almost excited.

You hear him, but the words don’t sink in fully. The pain in your arm is too much to comprehend anything else, but your mind still recognizes the threat.

“Lot of fucking help you were!”

The words are shouted into your ear and you’re confused for a moment, before you realize that they weren’t directed at you. He turns and you’re forced to shuffle around in front of him, the pressure on your shoulder searing down your side.

The passenger door of the old truck has been thrown open, but you hardly have time to realize that before someone is in front of you. A large, cold hand is pressed to your face, palm against your cheek, fingers curling around the messy bits of hair that now stick to your sweaty face. You try to jerk back, but there’s nowhere to go with your arm still held in a vice grip behind you.

Your face is level with their chest, lanky black hair and a worn jacket all that you can see of them. The hand on your face cups your cheek in a too familiar way and you can sense that they are leaning over you, shoulders hunched to keep you blocked in.

“Hurry up and get ‘em in the truck, Vincent.” The other man hisses, pushing you forward and into the chest of the one in front of you.

The push jolts you forward, the arm behind you numb with pain. A cold, heavy spark of panic lands in your stomach. You do not want to get into that truck, but two sets of hands are forcing you towards it. With a gasp you suck in a quick breath, letting it out as a piercing scream. You twist between them, as much as you can with your arm locked in place. They’re startled for just a second, but it’s all the time you need.

You kick backwards with one foot, missing the first time but connecting with something on the next try, a harsh grunt of pain echoing in your ear. You can feel him buckle slightly, the grip on your arm going slack, the relief from the pressure building in your shoulder almost makes you dizzy. Hands grab at your clothing, trying to keep you under control, but you fight against their hold, letting out another breathless scream. Swaying on your feet, you lunge to the side, towards the dark, open expanse of pavement, knowing that all it would take is a few seconds to make it back into sight of the store.

When you find yourself on your back, blinking up at the sky and a worried, uncannily lifeless face hovering over you, it doesn’t register at first how you got there. Your vision spins and slowly a throbbing pain starts up in your head. The man above you pats your face, making low whines under his breath, and you weakly bat his hands away.

“All this fuckin’ trouble,” you hear the other man spit out, a deep anger in his voice. “I shoulda made you do this shit yourself, Vincent.”

[actualbird]

which of the nxx boys can haggle?

wc: 1k

TIER 1: people who are sane and knowledgeable about purchasing

artem wing: can haggle but doesnt

artem knows how to haggle. hes seen his mother do it as he grew up and then he saw neil do it later on in his life and artem is a fast enough learner to understand how to do it himself.

however, when he was a child, his mother started giving him an allowance so he could learn how to manage finances. one day, he saw a snack he really wanted to buy with his own money but then it was Way Too Expensive. and so in the way all children do, hes like "why's it cost so much!" to which mrs. wing replies with "because of The Economy, baby."

and so artem decides to learn about The Economy and ends up with a pretty solid understanding of supply and demand, market trends, and other factors that go into the final price. he learns this all at AGE 10 and he decides that as long as all of these processes are done justly, the price is nothing to complain about ever.

and so he just doesnt haggle!!! but also, hes not somebody people wanna scam because fully grown artem wing at the supermarket exudes SUCH an intense and focused aura that stepping into that range surely deals immense psychic damage to anybody who has ill intent

-

luke pearce: can haggle and does

luke doesnt have to haggle. hes working so many fucking jobs (for fun?? for the benefit of satisfying his horrid urge to be a benefit for only other people???) and he does those jobs really damn well, so im sure hes got money!! but his personality just strikes me more as "if i can get it a lower price, i will, because it's a waste if you dont take that opportunity."

hes a pretty chill haggler tho. he'll smile and laugh and tease with the shop owner on how "i'll buy 3 more packs of these noodles if you bring the whole price down a bit, so technically, youre making more profit, yeah?" and honestly, his haggling works mostly because hes so earnest and charming and even if you do turn him down, he kinda just shrugs and goes "fair enough!" and buys what he was planning to buy anyway.

luke is unscammable tho. not bc of his vibes, mind you, cuz luke pearce's vibes (NOT agent raven's vibes, to be clear, thats a whole other animal) are vibes of a puppy that will apologize to YOU if you spill milk on his lap. hes got very kind vibes and that seems like a scammer's dream come true but nobody in stellis has the heart to scam him bc luke is often seen rummaging around trash cans or metal dumpsters

he is not dumpster diving for food. hes just curious if anybody threw out some cool appliances he can nab spare parts from or make into new gadgets. but stellis city doesnt know that. all they know is that the puppy boy who owns time's antiquities frequently sticks his head in the rubbish and theyre all collectively like "NOBODY SCAM HIM EVER, WE NEED TO PROTECT HIM"

-

TIER 2: i mean, it's one banana, rosa. what could it cost? 10 dollars?

marius von hagen: cant haggle and doesnt

marius is self aware enough to know that hes obscenely rich and does NOT know jackshit about small money management. like, hes great with money in large amounts. he knows the best amount of money for investments and stocks and how to plan finances long term for businesses, so he knows how money works!!!

he just doesnt know how it works at a 7/11

which usually isnt a problem. marius isnt the one doing most of the purchasing, thats left to the house staff or vincent, buuuuut when hes hanging out with mc, just the two of them, hes atlas carrying the world on his shoulders in regards to purchases.

theres a 50/50 percent chance mc will save him when hes having trouble figuring out how much to pay. she mostly saves him when hes about to do something wayy too stupid (like trade his horrendously expensive watch for an ice cream cone, HE ALMOST DID THIS IN CANON in Marius SSR Fabulous Feast) but anything less than that and hes on his own

which tbh, marius doesnt mind. it seems to make her happy seeing him fumble and be out of his element and also this is never gonna affect his funds. so if hes getting overcharged, it's never a problem

this does however mean that marius von hagen, when hanging out with a certain lawyer, is PRIME SCAM MATERIAL.

all of stellis city is like "when u see rich boy with the girl, GET HIS ASS"

vyn richter: cant haggle but does

[spoilers] vyn is of a royal lineage. hes the son of a duke. im damn sure that for all of his early life when he was still living in svart, he never had to purchase a gosh dang thing because all of it was done by house staff.

however, once vyn leaves svart and goes to stellis, he does have to learn quickly, so now hes not COMPLETELY naive. still, i cant imagine vyn richter walking around in like, a wet market or a bodega/cornerstore. i think vyn gets all of his food purchases from very upscale farmer's markets and all his other purchases in similarly hoity toity establishments.

so he can buy things. but his reference for how much things cost is HORRIBLY SKEWED by his luxurious upscale tastes. bring him to a garage sale and he will not know the general price of anything. he cant haggle

yet he does anyway, so he can be IMPRESSIVE. which he wants to be so much to the point that self awareness briefly exits his brain.

he haggles only around mc so he can be impressive cool. and he succeeds at looking impressive cool!!! in contrast to luke who is the chillest haggler ever, vyn channels such unsettling haggling energy that sellers can do nothing but agree to his terms.

but his terms.

are bad.

because since he doesnt know what normal shit costs, he actually ends up haggling the price WAY FUCKING HIGHER THAN IT ORIGINALLY WAS

vyn, smugly presenting mc with a banana he had haggled to 5x the original price: for you, my lady :)

mc: //trying so hard to not burst into laughter

(nobody is scamming vyn, they wouldnt be brave enough to....vyn is just continually scamming HIMSELF.....)