#okay now that this worm is out of my brain
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angel on his shoulder: happy birthday (op81)
mean!oscar x sweet!reader
summary: oscar struggles to find the perfect gift for your birthday
notes: again, he’s not really mean, but idk what to call him now
wc: 1533
prev. part
You had somehow managed to do it, to worm your way into Oscar’s life, to make yourself a permanent part of his day. What was once passing glances had now turned into soft smiles and quiet conversations. He looked forward to seeing you everyday, to talking with you.
He started saving a seat for you whenever he ate lunch, or sitting closer to Lando during meetings, so he could sit closer to you. He longed to be at the receiving end of your smiles and laughs, and mentally cheered when he was.
Of course spending more time with you meant spending more time with Lando as well. Oscar didn’t dislike Lando, not at all, but Lando could occasionally be… a bit much. Especially when he was wiggling his eyebrows at him for simply talking with you.
He was sitting in the training room at the MTC one day, getting ready to begin his workout when he feels an arm around his shoulders. He turns to see Lando smirking down at him.
“Hey.” He says.
“Hey yourself.” Lando replies. “What are you up to?”
Oscar furrows his eyebrows and looks around the gym. “What do you think?”
Lando rolls his eyes, but smiles as he walks towards a set of weights.
“Is, uh, is Y/n coming around?” Oscar tries to sound casual, but hearing Lando snort makes his face flush.
“To stay with me while I work out? I doubt she’d be interested in that.” He scoffs. “But I bet she’d be more interested if she knew you were here too.”
“What?” Oscar spurts. “Why would she?” He can feel his face burning up.
“No reason.” Lando says, teasingly. “Hey, what are you doing for next week?”
Oscar furrows his brows. “What’s going on next week?”
“Y/n’s birthday.” Lando answers. “You didn’t know?” He turns to look at Oscar.
Oscar tries to think back, wondering if you’ve mentioned your birthday.
“Well it’s next week. I’m throwing a party for her. You can come if you want.”
Oscar nods. “Yeah, yeah I’ll be there.”
Lando grins. “Good. She’ll be glad to hear that.”
Oscar tries to hide the blush he feels spreading on his cheeks.
“I’ve already got her gift picked out and wrapped. Not by me, of course. It’d look like I was handing her a wad of paper.”
“Gift?” Oscar asks. He feels panic beginning to rise in his chest.
“Yeah, gift. It’s a birthday.” Lando laughs. “You have to get her a gift.”
“Right.” Oscar murmurs. He stands up. “I think I’m done here, for the day.” With that he walks out of the training center, gym bag slung over his shoulder, his gaze locked on the ground as he leaves.
“Didn’t even see him do anything.” Lando mumbles to himself.
Oscar spends the rest of the day wracking his brain for something, anything to get you for your birthday. He could get you jewelry? But that seems too intimate. Money? Too casual.
He sits alone while he eats his lunch, staring off into space as he eats, trying to think of something.
“Hey, Os. You okay?” You ask softly placing your food down on the table next to him.
He snaps out of his thoughts, looking at you wide-eyed.
“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”
You laugh. “I don’t know, you’ve got this weird look on your face.”
He shakes his head. “No I don’t.”
“Okay, fine.” You laugh.
Oscar sighs, looking back at his food, but out of the corner of his eye he sees a book on your lap.
“What’s that?” He asks.
“Oh,” you smile, lifting the book to put it on the table. “It’s the book I’m reading right now.”
Oscar looks at the cover.
“It’s actually like, the tenth time I’m reading it.” You say.
Oscar snorts. “Why?”
“It’s my favorite book.” You shrug. “It’s so good. If you haven’t read it, I highly recommend it.”
Oscar hums.
“No, seriously, it would be so nice to have someone to talk to about it.” You whine. “I tried to get Lando to read it, and do you know what he said? He said ‘I’ll wait for the movie’. Can you believe that?” You ask.
Oscar laughs. “That sounds about right.” He watches as you push the book to the side to eat your lunch. “Hey, I gotta go, but I’ll see you later.”
“Oh, okay, see you.”
Oscar tries not to let the way your shoulders slump affect him. He gathers his things, and leaves you sitting there, pulling out his phone as he walks away.
After work Oscar goes to several different shops, looking for that damned book. He’s just about to give up, when he finally finds one lone copy. He keeps it tucked close to his chest as he walks to the checkout counter, as if afraid someone’s going to try to pry it from his hands.
He spends any free time he has for the week with his nose in the book. He brings it with him to the MTC, he reads it before and after work, he feels like the book becomes a part of him.
He shows up to Lando’s apartment for your party, with his gift tucked under his arm. He’d spent about an hour on picking a shirt, then another on fixing his unruly hair.
He has to admit, he’s surprised when he walks into Lando’s apartment. It’s not the bright rave lights or loud music he’d picture Lando would pick out for a party for himself, instead it’s soft warm lighting with some soft music in the background.
“I see you’ve made it.” Lando says, when he sees Oscar. “And you’ve managed to find a gift.” He smirks. “What’d you get her?”
Oscar shakes his head. “It’s nothing.”
“Keeping it a surprise?”
Before Oscar can answer, he’s pulled into a soft hug. “Thanks for coming, Os.” He hears your voice next to his ear.
Oscar smiles, wrapping an arm around you. “Happy birthday.”
When you pull away Oscar allows himself a moment to admire you. You’re wearing a soft dress that compliments you well. He notices the small sparking stone on the necklace around your neck.
“Pretty necklace.” He says.
You lift a hand to touch the stone. “Thanks. Lando got it for me.”
Oscar feels an uncomfortable twist in his stomach. His eyes search for the brit, who has made himself scarce.
“I told him it was too much. He said it’s the least he can do for me, having to put up with him everyday.” You laugh.
Oscar gives you an unconvincing smile, awkwardly shifting the gift under his arm, the gift he’s starting to feel immensely insecure about.
“Do you want to go sit somewhere?” You ask him. “Lando invited all of these people, but I don’t think I know half of them.” You laugh.
Oscar nods, following you as you lead him to the balcony.
You each take a seat, looking out at the sun setting over Monaco. He can’t help but admire you. The sun makes you practically glow, your eyes quite literally sparkle.
“Thanks for coming, really.” You break the silence. “I appreciate what Lando’s done, but I can’t help but feel a bit… out of place.”
Oscar hums. He holds out his gift to you, figuring it’d be better to deal with the embarrassment of you thinking it’s lame out here alone, rather than inside surrounded by people.
He watches as you tear open the gift, a confused look spreading across your face as you see what it is.
“It’s my book…” You say, holding the same book you showed him at the beginning of the week, though this copy is clearly newer. “Thanks Oscar.” You say, trying to hide your disappointment.
“Open it.”
You look at him confused again. “I swear if you cut a hole in my favorite book-“
“Just open it.” He cuts you off with a smile.
You slowly open it, flipping through the first few pages, the title page, the acknowledgment, the table of contents, until you get to the first actual page of the book.
Inside, surrounding the text in the book are little notes and doodles, scrawled in messy handwriting. You flip through the pages to see them everywhere.
“You annotated it?” You ask softly.
Oscar nods. “I read it this week. I figured it would be nice for you to have someone to talk to about it.” He says. He takes a deep breath. “Look, I know it’s not great-“
“I love it.” You cut him off.
“You do?”
You nod. You had copies upon copies of this book, paperbacks, hardcovers, special editions, sprayed edges, but none of them compared to the one in your hands. The one Oscar took the time to read, then write out all of his own thoughts for you. It felt like you were holding a piece of him in your arms.
“Yeah, I love it. Thank you.” You murmur, pulling him into a hug.
Oscar feels like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders as he wraps his arms around you. He smiles to himself, feeling like he’s successfully planted himself in your heart now.
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more octavinelle thoughts (albeit more floyd-focused) but!!! a concept in which you are an idol and the twins are your bodyguards and azul is your very scummy, sleazy manager who would do virtually anything so long as his star angelfish can shine brighter than the other idols and their agencies. though the idol industry is cutthroat and stressful, thanks to azul’s quick wit, the leech twins’ connections, and lots of smart investments you manage to gain success relatively quickly. that’s the entire point, after all, and yet even with your success in recent years there are ominous shadows that stretch far and wide.
floyd dwells in these shadows, always teetering between being happy for your newfound success and loathing the fact that you’re so popular and busy now. even though he follows you everywhere (he and jade are bound to you via contract, but floyd could care less about the legal bond between the both of you), it’s always for business. he’s forced to keep within certain boundaries so as to not cause legal trouble, personal trouble, and just overall trouble for the fans and you. there are times he’s thought of wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you against him after it became an irritating chore to watch you pose for pictures or sign various things when fans would recognize and approach you. he wants to prove something by doing this, but he’s not sure what. prove that you’re untouchable to the general public—that only he can lay a finger on you? prove that you are no one’s idol? prove that you belong to him?
floyd hates this feeling. it’s as if he’s wrapped in fishing netting and there’s no escaping no matter how much he bites and claws. the more he thrashes, the more it winds itself around him, constrictive and painful. it hurts to see you shine so brightly while knowing fully well he can’t truly have you. you’re meant to put on an act to prove to everyone that you are accessible and loyal only to the arts. therefore no romance for you. even your personal and work relationships are difficult to navigate because no matter who you’re associated with fans will get envious, or they’ll make rash judgements.
floyd’s thought about yanking you up to his height to kiss you square on the mouth while out in public with you. he’s thought about taking you in the recording studio so they’ll have recordings of your voice as it wavers with moans and sobs, and for the right price azul can sell it to tabloid journalists and they’ll release it and the whole world will hear their slutty idol getting fucked by a faceless, mysterious bodyguard. then you’d truly be his because no one would want you.
he’s thought about keeping his hand planted firmly on your hip when at social gatherings or clinging to you like a luxury handbag. jade often advises against it. as physical as floyd would love to be, he has to follow the rules. floyd hates the rules because he never knows what half of them are or what they entail. he’ll get away with fleeting touches when he can, masking them with the excuse of his job. if a fan attempts to get too handsy with you, he gets to put his hands on your shoulders and steer you away while jade politely advises them of the rules.
floyd spends so long trapped in this troublesome stage of pining from afar, never to surpass any boundaries, always remaining as your bodyguard, that he begins to wonder if anything will ever change. he wants to get married; you can’t. he wants to settle down and start a family; you can’t. he wants to publicize his love; you can’t. there are so many things you can’t do and it’s so annoying. floyd tries to tell azul that it’s not fair—that you ought to be given more freedoms (“fuck the fans,” he often says)—but he may as well be a petulant child whining over impossible, unsolvable problems. this may be a reality to everyone else, but it isn’t the reality he wants. the reality he wants lies in unreality—in the far corners of his mind, each one a sugared fantasy he often considers when he needs material to get off to. thoughts of you in your pretty, frilly, elaborate idol outfits, each one shredded to pieces to get to warm skin beneath (he’ll buy you a dozen replacement outfits if it means you’ll let him fuck you; hell, he’ll spoil you rotten just so you continue to allow him to stand by your side as your most loyal bodyguard), have him falling over the edge into orgasmic bliss. god, you’re so perfect. so sweet. so soft. so deliciously noisy when you’re practically howling beneath him when he fucks you so hard the bed shudders (and the dreams always fall apart right when he’s about to tell you he loves you in the aftermath). fuck. he wants you all to himself.
at some point, as his love twists into something unfathomably crooked, he gets it in his mind to knock you up. it’s the perfect solution! secret relationships, publicized romance, and rules be damned; a pregnancy would unravel the carefully crafted spool of thread azul has spent so long spinning to perfection. you really would be his then because it would be undeniable proof. and when your belly is so taut and round with his child, even with azul’s silver tongue, it will be impossible to explain away. and everyone would know. everyone would know you belong to him. your picture-perfect, successful world will cave in on itself, fold itself away into a packet of misery, and from the tendrils of bad, terrible, hateful things floyd will pull you free—right into his arms where you’re meant to be.
today you smiled at him, brought him a snack to thank him for his hard work, and tomorrow he’ll return the favor when he slips something into your drink so you’ll fall into your own little fantasy.
the idol industry is cutthroat, but then so is floyd.
#meraki mumbles#yandere twst#tw: baby trapping#tw: pregnancy mention#n/sfw#tw: drugging#okay now that this worm is out of my brain#it is back to discord mod scara and then onto creepy jade <3
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noachi!!!!!!!!
#ok noachi is still alive guys dw i just needed. to figure things out w drawing dragonborn#ive kind of neglected playing him bc i have too many worms in my brain (gith) and (dai)#now that im practicing i was like 'okay well i want noachi to be fat'#so now he's fat#his lil dumb face#i have another dragonborn thought. maybe depends on if i can translate the design in my brain to my canvas#BUT NOACHI!!!!!!#my art#bg3#oc: noachi#i was too lazy to draw clothes other then undies so he's just chilling in his jamas yknow
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so has anyone figured out WHY there is the Need To Share our Artworks™ or is it just the vibes and our Soul apparently
#ive been running on “two cakes. u aren't BOTHERING people by putting art on their feed they can scroll past it/if they dont they get ”cake“”#and we love “cake”#“cake” is picture on the internet in this case#like okay the contracts and transaction format is a me problem!! i need to get rid of the “utilitarian brain worms” bc they're boring#this is supposed to be a hobby and the “get a good grade in hobby” wolf in the brain is just crying bc that's how they understand the world#the “get a good grade in x” wolf has valid pain but needs to stop controlling my life because they don't need to earn “enough value to live”#ect ect ect#and the life of minmaxxed utility is a life of trying to appeal to a “correct” that doesn't exist yaddi yadda = boring#i love you wolf. also shut up. affectionate. concerned. you get it#ok so we remove tangible purpose from act of experience art because THAT'S not “the point”#because “the point” is the joy killer eccetera ecc#but then what? “here check out this labor of love. i drew this fucker 15 times. no there's no story* there it's just a guy”#*story in this case being an emotional engagement/a situation/a context in which to ponder/other#so it's just a Draw. no further analysis. what do others Get from that?#i know i deeply enjoy art because im a fan of the process of People Making Stuff. i love when there was nothing but now there's something!!!#THAT'S what's it all about!!!!!!!!!!!!!! to me!!!! right now!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!#so it stands to reason that creation is purpose enough?? to be experienced???? to be known????????#idk!!#this is a nothing burger of a thought people have always liked picture on the internet stfu maiora there doesn't need to be a reason#this is just the brainworms talking!!! because god forbid “something not have a purpose”??? blegh!!!!!!!!#sounds like unhealthy rationalizing instead of letting things be out of The Fear™!!sounds like depraving urself from joy bc of BRAINWORMS!!!#so like!!!!! picture on the internet doesn't NEED inherent value. creation is enough!! (plus there's the Attachment to Character. also.)#but then why are YOU *points at you* here? gen q!!#i made an image you like and now you are reading my word babble in some tags!!! what's THAT all about???????????#it's INTERESTING!! do you see what im trying to get at??#is it empathy??? person made something other saw something other made- other2other connection???? intrigue????????#.......all this is probably explained in some book or yt essay somewhere. oh well.#in the meantime thank you for your time! we can pretend we were stuck in an elevator together and then i started rambling#i hope you have a great rest of your day thanks for stopping by!! <3#maiora garrulates
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"Is it the smell of power in the room? I think this will never shift from me to you. My spot is taken, try different view." - Distressor by Gothic Tropic
For @polyamships polyshipday #31 "De-stress" (And a teeny tiny fic to go with it if it so Interests you)
#bbc merlin#polyamshippingday#merlinedit#sir lancelot#sir gwaine#morgana pendragon#morgwaincelot#viruscreates#edit#also thank you to grem for helping me figure out the ship name in my moment of being confused by the merlin fandon system of ship naming 💚#okay i see your morgana/lancelot and morgana/gwaine and lancelot/gwaine but let me raise you one#you've heard of mergwaincelot but have you heard of morgwaincelot#one is super fluffy and the other is well... quite the opposite but i think thats the appeal#long story short i have brain worms from this#poly ships#rarepair#power imbalance#manhandling#non consensual touching#i know other stuff may apply but thats all i can think of as of right now
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i wake from my nap (dazed), check my notifications (fearful) and see that my mutuals have found the scrubs au post (sweet bliss, a wave of serenity and calm overcomes me). all is well with the world
#pfh personal#we’re really all out here thirsting for price as dr cox huh?#it’s okay i understand#but also please no the brain worms not another au please#is this my brand now? writing transmasc reader inserts and cooking up aus of things that starred brendan fraser?
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I WENT TO PUT A DISH IN THE SINK AND A ROACH WAS CRAWLING OUT OF IT AND THEN I WALKED BY MY BOOKCASE ABD THERE WAS A FUCKING CRICKET!!!!!!!!!!! I CANNNOT FUCKING DO THIS!!!!!!!!
#i have to go to the store tomorrow like i have to#i need to buy weather stripping since it likely came thru the hole in the corner of my door like that fuck ass worm did#cause both happened after big rains#i need drain cleaner and drain covers and a special drain cover for the bathroom cause the ac unit water comes out into my apts shower#for some fucking reason and i cant have stagnent water if a mosquito gets in here but i cant have anything crawling up that drain#i need hand sanatizer i have like three of the mini bath and body works bottles left#and honestly i use too much cause im putting it up to my elbows and sometimes i use it on my legs and feet cause if i dont#my brain is gonna convince me that im as good as dead#i also need something to trap them that keeps me as far away as possible if i have to get rid of bugs cause im so awful with it#AND BEFORE ANYONE WANTS TO BE A BITCH im sorry i dont like bugs okay if im outside i get it im in the outside its a me issue#i will panic internally but im my house absolteuly fucking not i just cant#and yaknow what i dont know why!!!!!!!#but its a big fear quite possibly verging on real phobia and if u make fun of my im gonna fucking cry#i dont know why its like this noe i uses to hold lady bugs abd worms as a kid no issue this is a recent change in my life#im also afraid of eating yogurt thats best by date was a week ago i know its irrational and i used to NEVER think abt it but now i do#and it gives me so much anxiety but i try not to waste food so i ate that yogurt in tears convinced i was gonna get terminal good poisoning#even tho i knew i wouldnt but i still cant help it it makes me so anxious brings me to tears much like bugs and i dont wanna be doing it#but my brain is wired backwards!!!!!!
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as much as it emotionally destroyed me, i do have to say those last two pages of bsd 109 are like. the perfect cliffhanger. and i'm kind of super glad bsd releases monthly rather than weekly so it can actually hold the weight it was given
#bsd 109#sorry i read mark of athena the week after it came out and now i have a mild obsession with how the act of waiting for resolution#after a cliffhanger enhances the story#don't get me wrong. it's absolutely excruciating and i NEED to know what happens next Right Now Immediately#but if bsd released weekly i'd get to the end of the chapter and i'd be like. it's okay it's okay only seven days#and the ending of the chapter wouldn't have as much impact. you know?#but having to wait a month means i'm looking back at the end and i'm trying to tease out anything i may have missed the first twelve times#i examined the page#and the interjection of the panels of dazai / sskk / fukuzawa taking the bottom half of the penultimate page--#SO GOOD!!!!#we were talking in one of my classes last semester abt how the penultimate move is JUST as important as the ending and ohhhh it was pieced#together SO WELL in this chapter#and the slanting of the panels on the penultimate page as opposed to the straight horizontal ones on the last#increasing anxiety as aya is trying to push the table#then calming as it's finally falling#only to end right there#oooohh i have so many brain worms sorry#i'll stop writing an english major essay in these tags now#hello grace here
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watched Pride and Prejudice and Zombies 👍
#just me hi#i've gotta make up for this one post w/ one nonsense one on artstreet now but SBSHVFJSBHJBVFAJHVF#/THERE'S A BOOK?? YESSS#/it was SO SO fun !!!#only disappointed with maybe one or two odd things and the fact that i didn't see darcy improve in the slightest bit. but it was So so fun#it was awesomeeee :DDD#i don't have much else to say because my brain is full of gummy worms where my neurons should be but Yea :DD#//watched that with my brothers and then followed it up with I‚ Frankenstein :/#bad move man hsbhfbsd#i hoped it'd be a little sillier but that's okay. you know what's Not okay? the fact that adam cut his hair#he looked FINE and then they MASSACRED my boy fhsbhf#//WAIT i wasn't done w/ p.a.p.a.z they put darcy in a black leather jacket and he wore it to his WEDDINGGGGG#throw that man OUT he cannot be salvaged#shoutout to women forever by the way. oh my stars#but OHHHH MANNN they did him so wrong. so dirty#they didn't even style his Hair i can't take him seriously#he's a mess. okay <3#//back to adam#:( his hair :(#he looked so nice. why would you subject him to.. That#i can put up with the dark drab they constantly put these poor people in but i draw the line at the hair. please make a law abt it#/also may i have another opinion please? yes okay.. i am Kind Of Disappointed with how they did the ladies!!#i won't get into why bc Man. Man‚ Brother. Oh Brother but yea hfshdb#//okay. i am now going back into my hole now hfbshd#/6 posts :3
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i really am so obsessed with how Double Agent Midvalley is gonna change the vibes with Wolfwood too. like Midvalley and Wolfwood ALREADY have some vibes due to their fight(s) in the manga. but now theyre both double agents but in different directions. two Relatively normal guys who wanted nothing to do with this battle between the angels & are STUCK HERE
also imagining that spiderman meme if/when they ever find out about each other lmfao. like what do you MEAN youre a double agent too?!? what do you MEAN!!!! IT'S FOR HIM!!!!!!!!!!??!?
Yeah.
#speculation nation#itnl shit#the potential is off the charts. but b4 i can get ther ei NEED. TO WRITE. THE CURRENT MOMENT.#really i need to go to bed soon. so i can have more time for writing tomorrow.#for Right Now i wanna reply to the last few comments on my most recent chapter. and then i'll go to bed.#im just thinking about... them <3#idk what it is about midvalley he's just wormed his way into my brain#i still kinda hate him but i also love him. weird feeling.#most of all im lowkey obsessed with the vibes he brings to the table between vash & wolfwood#LOVE my hate-friendship thing i got going between vash & midvalley#sometimes u hate a dude and u genuinely want him to end up okay for his own wellbeing (even as u deny to urself that u feel this way)#sometimes u spend years socializing Primarily with this one dude that U dont exactly like & who pisses you off relentlessly#but talking to him is kinda fun and you enjoy making fun of him & pissing him off. Loads of amusement !#and then you remember that you are ideologically opposed. like. intrinsically. and also he hates your guts for just Who You Are#im enjoying these vibes IMMENSELY. midvalley just makes things so Weird in a way im loving writing.#vash could make friends with almost anyone is kinda the baseline of it lol. and he could Change almost anyone too#now will there be any hope for this hate-friendship in the end? Uh. well. we'll find out later Together!
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Why did I cancel therapy and then cry about it
#i bet that woman put down the phone thinking ‘yep we’re gonna see her again’#calling up two weeks later like hiiiiiii actually i’ve changed my mind. i am not well <3#the thing is. i know i’m not well but the overall concept of unpacking all those issues with some random stranger makes me feel like i’m#going to throw up. in other words i’m resistant to it. which… idk. i just feel like i’m not going to get anything out of this until i’m#ready to accept that i need help. which right now; i genuinely feel fine most of the time#when i DON’T feel fine… brain worms. BRAIN. WORMS. but most of the time? i’m okay#the thing that has given me the MOST anxiety out of everything that has happened this past week has literally been the therapy appointment#if i can calm down and achieve equilibrium by just not going to therapy why wouldn’t i do that? i know it’s not a no brainer but it feels#like it is. like i know the anxiety is going to come back… i have a job interview on thursday and that’s going to be bad#on the other hand i still think it’s a normal level of anxiety. maybe i’m in denial but i don’t think so#i think i need to get my blood pressure down so i can go back on birth control. i’ve been avoiding salt really well and trying to move my#body more. my watch puts me at 111 over 74 which.. i feel may not be entirely accurate just because it’s a fucking watch#but considering i’m usually at about 100 over 80 i don’t think it’s far off#i really do think 121 over 85 was a one off. i believe it. i feel it#if i go back on microgynon my mood will stabilise so hard even god won’t know i have a problem#in other words. i can’t put salt on my potato wedges. :(#personal
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Guess who’s struggling mentally because of their parents? :D
#personal#my mom this time#my parents have a knack for being completely normal and then taking a hard turn into judgment town#because it really does come out of nowhere when they start dissecting everything that’s wrong with their kids#and then of course they’ll get mad when we don’t like that and make it clear that we won’t stand for it#my mom: fine if you wanna struggle with your bad decisions then do what you want! we only wanted to help!#me: you literally suggested things that would’ve either made my situation worse or worsened someone else#I don’t want to give details but it’s stuff regarding my financial troubles#I’m not in as rough a spot now as I was a couple months ago#but it’s still not an easy time trying to crawl back up with the money I’ve managed to save#and my mom is under the impression that I don’t care and am only making things worse for myself all the time#(so is my dad but he didn’t text me out of the blue to tell me that today)#(he prefers to tell me in person)#hypocritical for a woman who only makes bad financial decisions and is in piles of credit card debt#like the call is coming from inside the house#I’m lucky I have my partner who’s been supportive through my struggle and of course for helping me get out of my parents’ house#but god I hate how they worm their way back into my brain so easily#make me second guess myself constantly and make me dislike every part of me#I’ll be fine in a few hours#tomorrow at the latest#just needed to vent#I know I’ll be okay#just gonna be not okay for a bit
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bcs s6 thread pt 6
#sept 21 2023#it's so freakin g full circle too the way he ends up in nebraska omaha beach where she came frim like#jerry from parks?😭#it is literally so terrible for me out here like first brad whitfield but only as josh lyman and then it got worse w will mcavoy but kind of#as a joke but not really but now this like this is the worst bc it's so recent so it's literally jimmy now ohhhh my god i can't help it that#still can't get over it ?????? the things they've gone through and then she LEFT?#like she had to but no nooooooboonobono the way they built them up like they are so forever#but it's okay i have so much bob rhea content and then so many fics <3#also it's so interesting that they chose to do the post brba scenes in b&w when that's usually signifying the past#the close up on heels i immediately assumed it was kim girl get a grip#i've never had a non endgame ship real breakup like i can't cope this is the greatest love story there's no way it ended#and they legally still married tho oh my godddddddddd ohh i have no wife i just whimpered so loud#wait i'm i don't think i can finish tn and i'm going to cv tmw oh no#i just wanna watch mcwexler edits and bob and rhea interviewssss#i think in a week i'll watch that scene again but i'm also just like. worm in my brain wants to watch the whole show again it was so insane#creasing over how excited jimmy is that kim asked about him as if he wasn't the great and only love of her life😭😭😭😭😭 im so miserable rn#yeah this is my first actual real non endgame tragic ship and they were so perfect OH MY GOD HES CALLING HER#AND KNOWS HER NIMBER !??????? WNDHHFBFNNSNDNBFBFJDNFJDJFHJ M SHAKINGGGGGGGGGG IH JDNFNDN#i cant believe he went to nebraska i cant believe he called her i can't believe she kept her name dude dudeeee what is going on i need to kn#staring into the distance dot gif simply cannot comprehend a workd where jimmy and kim are not attached at the hip#no okay there's the b&w gif of kim on the phone and them sharing a cigarette?#still using viktor😭😭 i'm so in shambles clinging and grasping it's slipping away#two episodes left we power through#oh now what the frick i burst into tears im sobbing#the divorce paperwork hit me out of nowhere i literally can't stop crying#crying so hard like ud think my parents died or smth i literally cannot#KIM#THAT UGLY BROWN IG PLEASD AINT NO Whhyy she's living with another man NOPE THIS ID NOT#AINT NO WAY BROTHER DHE SOULD NOG#THE SONF?babdbbdvfbdbdndjxbdbfnsndncncj u hate everything KIM NO OFNDBBABYYYSYDYDHFHFJSJCI CNANDJDJSNDJDJDJDJ EVERHTHINF HURTS AND I SCEAM N
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thinking about um. ummmmm love nest
#rom: 🍀#<- none of you see that.#what did you mean by go home to ‘our’ love nest……. side eyes#head in hands AND ONLY AFTER COMPLETING YOUR ISLAND MODE DO YOU ‘ASK’ TO BE FRIENDS#DESPITE REFERRING TO THE HOTEL AS A LOVE NEST SO OPENLY#gnawing this man’s arm off again he was out of my life for three years and now he’s giving me brain worms again#i hate you says while holding his face so so tenderly in my hands#anyway. um. i think i might have a Type#i was looking at screen caps of the anime and i only just noticed that he has a suuuper similar smile to ryou’s#like the closed eyes soft smile. do you know what i’m talking about#and it made me connect more dots in my head lol#i don’t think they’re too similar outside of physical traits… they’re even the same height apparently!! even though i swore ko was taller#what was this post about again. oh right. *points* weirdo#I DON’T KNOW WHY HE RANDOMLY BRINGS UP STUFF LIKE THAT during chapter one he literally like… says him and hinata have ‘similar scents’#like okay. weirdo.#i still love him though agsjfhdjs his weirdness is endearing#i don’t think he knows how to socialize very well…..#things just come out of his mouth and it is so worrying sometimes#especially the self degradation…. like noo shut up. shush. you were Everything to me and you will never understand that#in the hierarchy of f/os the quartz boys are above all but ko is like. directly below them#there is Loves of My Life and then there is love of my life do you get what i mean
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"valley reverie" - sebastian
summary: the timeline of sebastian and the farmer’s relationship based on canon dialogue
pairing: sdv sebastian x farmer
word count: 2.5K
a/n: this may be my magnum opus
The sun was beginning its descent behind the mountains when Sebastian emerged from the house for the first—and only—time that day.
He shot a glance to his mother and Demetrius, who were standing at the edge of their property, looking over the valley bathed in golden light. His mother sent a small smile back, followed by a pointed disappointed look at the carton of cigarettes held loosely in his glance. Demetruis didn’t acknowledge his existence.
Sebastian knew it was a nasty habit, but he spent most of his life with not much thought to the future—he was surprised he made it this far. Maybe his life would have been different if he had planned better; if he had considered for a moment that there was such a thing as life past sixteen, then eighteen, then twenty-one. He supposed he should start to consider a life past twenty-four, but quickly dropped the thought as he placed the cigarette between his lips and continued his stroll to the lake.
He saw it then, as his lighter sparked to life and helped the cigarette take eleven minutes off his.
Someone was sitting in his spot. A humanoid blob of denim focused intently on the bobber floating in the water.
He hesitated, then decided to keep moving—his trajectory now locked in past the stranger and across the rickety planks of wood to the smaller islands in the middle of the lake. His mother had been saying for years that she needed to build something more structurally sound, but had yet to get around to it.
As he got closer, he took in more of the scene. There was a muddy bucket next to the stranger, and he noticed a couple slimy carp flopping around inside. Whoever this was, they clearly didn’t have enough experience to catch the tricker creatures in the lake.
Just as he was about to slip past toward solitude, he locked eyes with the stranger. Their bored expression quickly turned to worry.
“Sorry, am I in your spot? Robin said it was okay for me to fish here.”
Recognition sparked in his brain—his mother had told him about the new resident of Pelican Town. The words she had used to describe them flashed behind his eyes: sweet, a little lost, cute. That last one was sent his way with an exaggerated wink and met with a scoff from him.
“Oh. You just moved in, right? Cool.”
The farmer didn’t respond, just looked on waiting for an answer to their question. Sebastian didn’t gratify them with a response, instead looking across the lake at the tree line and abandoned quarry.
“Out of all the places you could live, you chose Pelican Town?”
The farmer scrunched up their mouth slightly, beginning to reel in their line. There was nothing but a limp worm dangling from the hook. Sebastian took note of the grieving look flashing on their face before it was gone in a blink.
“Better than where I was.”
Sebastian didn’t bother responding as the farmer heaved up the bucket—they were a lot stronger than they looked—and walked away without another word.
Robin smiled at the farmer with a wave and shouted goodnight before sending another disapproving look to her son.
_________________________________________
Sebastian heaved open the door of the house, exhausted from band practice. Sam was his best friend, and he enjoyed spending time with him more than he would admit, but the newest addition to the band was definitely a hindrance.
He didn’t dislike Abigail, and he couldn’t deny that she was a talented drummer, but he had been hoping for years that her little crush on him would fade away. He could only take so much of puppy dog eyes and over exaggerated laughter at his quips that definitely aren’t that funny.
He was so absorbed in his thoughts on how to shake off the purple-haired girl—more importantly, how to shake her off without actual confrontation—that he didn’t notice the farmer leaning against the shop counter until their voice pierced through. His mother was nowhere to be seen, so they had to have been talking to him.
“What? I didn't hear you...I'm busy thinking about something. What do you want?”
The farmer narrowed their eyes at him, leveling him with a glare. “You know, I get that you’d rather be listening to My Chemical Romance and jerking off to Nietzsche than interacting with a human being, but you really need to work on your people skills.”
Well, he hadn’t been expecting that.
He expected avoidance from the farmer, based on their first meeting and subsequent run-ins where they gave him a nod of acknowledgement before going back to acting like he didn’t exist.
He realized that the farmer wasn’t as timid and one-dimensional as he let himself think.
The moment was saved by Robin entering the shop room and dropping a workbench on the floor with a heavy thud. “You’ll make better use of this than I have lately—it’s pretty old,” she looked up from the dusty bench, noticing her son frozen in the doorway, “oh, hi Sebby.”
“Sebby?” the farmer questioned with a smirk.
Sebastian rolled his eyes, brushing past his mother to get to his lair.
“Sorry about him,” he heard his mother as he descended the stairs.
“It’s fine,” the farmer laughed, “he’s cool.”
He couldn’t help the smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. _________________________________________
Sebastian looked down at the frozen tear in his hand with a neutral expression on his face, though his heart was quickening its pace.
“Gunther told me it’s fabled to be the frozen tears of a yeti.”
He met the farmer’s grin with one of his own, “I really love this. How did you know?”
They shrugged, “Seemed like some emo shit you’d be into.”
A breathy laugh escaped him before he could stop it. “Well…thanks.”
“No prob. I’ll keep an eye out for more when I’m in the mines.”
“The mines?,” his brow furrowed, “how far down did you go?”
“Not super deep, I think I stopped at sixty since it was getting late.”
Sebastian gaped at the farmer—who he now realized he really misjudged—as they shouldered their backpack and turned toward the door.
“Oh,” they stopped just shy of the threshold, “your code is wrong, by the way. Third line down.”
He looked to the screen, baffled, seeing that there was, in fact, a mistake in his code.
He began to ask the farmer how they knew that, but they were gone. _________________________________________
The sun was setting on the valley, and Sebastian found himself sitting by the lake’s edge with the farmer, who was reeling in sturgeon and bass with ease.
“I’m sure the city’s different for other people, but it was corporate hell for me,” the farmer spoke softly as they baited their hook—it was different than any bait he had ever seen, and the farmer had informed him that the wild man living behind their house had taught them the recipe.
Sebastian hummed, “I guess that makes sense.”
“You guess?” the farmer teased him, flicking water at his face.
He blew a puff of smoke in their face.
The farmer coughed, then began to laugh as they fanned the smoke out of their face, “asshole.”
Sebastian grinned, leaning back on the palms of his hands and gazing across the water.
They sat in comfortable silence as the farmer cast out their line and half-heartedly focused on the bobber—they didn’t really need it anymore, but liked the safety net.
“You and Sam are probably my only friends in this town.” Sebastian broke the silence, but continued looking straight ahead.
“Well I am very likable.”
Sebastian knocked their shoulders together with a scoff.
“Sure, keep telling yourself that.” _________________________________________
Sebastian was indifferent—and sometimes loathful—toward most events held in their little town, but tonight was an exception. It was hard to not be in awe of the midnight jellies, and he was excited for the farmer to see them for the first time.
They were perched at the edge of the dock, along with Sam and Abigail, their feet dangling inches above the water.
It was a lot colder than expected, and the farmer was bundled in his black jacket. He couldn’t help but feel bad about the sad glances Abigail was sending their way.
The farmer looked content, and Sebastian recalled something they told him at the beginning of the season—the used to be terrified of the ocean before moving to the valley.
He nudged their shoulder with his own. It didn’t take much effort—they were sitting a lot closer than he realized. A light blush dusted his cheekbones.
“I thought I saw something moving in there…” he pointed to the void of the ocean and leaned closer to their ear, whispering, “something big, something dark.”
The farmer’s eyes widened as they looked across the vast darkness before they narrowed and turned to him.
“Just trying to scare you...” Sebastian laughed.
The farmer smiled, knocking their knee against his, muttering an all too familiar “asshole.”
It wasn’t too long before Lewis sent out the first lantern, and the water surrounding the docks was filled with glowing jellyfish.
“It’s beautiful,” the farmer breathed out as their head landed on his shoulder.
“Yeah,” his eyes landed on a glowing green jelly before looking down at the farmer, “it is.” _________________________________________
Sebastian never saw the farm in its full glory—before the farmer’s grandfather grew old and passed away—but he had been there plenty of times when it was overgrown and abandoned.
He had told the farmer this as they sat on the newly installed swinging bench on their porch. They joked that they would be suing him for trespassing, since it was technically their property at the time, even if they hadn’t known it.
It was a chilly fall day, but the farmer had made a pot of coffee to keep them warm.
“I thought this was your busy season,” Sebastian lit up a cigarette and moved the ashtray closer to where he sat. It was a newer addition to the farmer’s decor. He thought about the prideful look on their face as they held it up and told him that Leah let them use her pottery wheel. It was painted with little creatures that looked like the much happier cousins of the slimes living in the caves.
The farmer hummed, holding their mug close to their face, but not taking a sip, “Yeah…a lot busier than I thought it would be, actually.”
He grinned at them, “so, you’re slacking today, huh?”
The farmer laughed.
“I’d rather hang out with your sorry ass than work.” Despite the insult, the farmer’s tone was soft and earnest. Sebastian felt his cheeks heat up.
“Could you picture me living on a farm? It seems ridiculous, but I have been thinking about it lately.”
“If I could do it, then so could you,” the farmer linked their pinky with his, “it’s a lot more freeing than you’d think.” _________________________________________
Boxes filled with Sebastian’s things lined the walls of the farmhouse, but Sebastian and the farmer lay in bed, choosing to ignore them.
They had all the time in the world.
The farmer was twirling the pendant dangling from Sebastian’s neck, “there’s steam coming out of your ears, Seb,” the farmer giggled and smoothed out the wrinkle between his brows with their finger.
“I’ve just been thinking,” Sebastian turned his attention from the ceiling to the farmer, “The older I get, the less I'm drawn to the city. It had a certain mystique to it, once. But it turns out that was just a romantic fantasy. The city's so busy, so full of people... I don't belong there. I'm a loner.”
A beat.
“Present company excluded, of course.”
The farmer laughed, “Well I would hope so,” they tugged gently on the pendant, pulling him closer, “because you’re stuck with me.” _________________________________________
Sebastian and the farmer had joined his family for dinner, and his mother had shooed them away with one hand as she cooed at the bundle held tightly in her other arm.
The valley was coming to life, but the ghost of a winter chill was in the air. They settled down by the lake despite the cold. It was no longer his spot, but theirs.
The farmer was skipping stones across the lake when he grumbled about how being in that spot made him want a smoke.
“No one’s stopping you,” the farmer laughed.
“I am.”
The farmer still held a loose smile as they raised their eyebrows at him, “oh?”
“I'm trying my best to quit smoking now that we're married…” He avoided their gaze and brushed some mud on the palm of his hand onto his jeans, “I don't wanna die on you. It's a bad habit. I want to have a future together.”
A baby cried in the distance. Sebastian and the farmer smiled at each other. _________________________________________
The farmer was surprised to find Sebastian’s side of the bed empty when they woke up. It wasn’t a rare occasion, as they usually found Sebastian in the kitchen after a restless sleep, but he was nowhere to be found.
They couldn’t help but worry a little bit as they pulled on their boots and opened the screen door. They paused out of instinct to let the dog run out before them only to realize that the dog wasn’t hot on their heels like usual.
They had only gotten two steps onto the porch before a mass of fur and slobber crashed into their legs.
“Oh hello baby,” they cooed down at the dog as it rolled onto its back, breathing heavily out of excitement, “good morning stink.”
“Good morning to you too.”
The farmer was so caught up in giving the dog attention that they hadn’t noticed Sebastian leaning against the porch railing.
They straightened from their crouch, smiling at him as the dog whined from the loss of affection.
“I couldn’t fall back asleep, so I went ahead and fed the animals,” he pushed off the railing and took a few steps forward to fix a rogue piece of the farmer’s hair, “one less thing for you to do.”
“Thanks, Seb,” the farmer said softly, suddenly bashful, “I’m going to check on the pumpkins. Thought I could make some soup tonight if any of them are ripe.”
They took a few steps off the porch, “feel like being a country boy today? Or did you get your fix?”
He smiled, leaning his forearms against the railing, “I'll just watch you from here. I enjoy watching you.” _________________________________________
Sebastian and the farmer found themselves sitting on the porch swing once again. It was a mild summer evening, and he was looking on as a toddler played with the dog in the yard.
He tore his attention away from the rowdy scene in front of him to look at the farmer, who was curled up at his side reading a book. He felt his heart swell.
“This is so different from my old life, but I'm really starting to like it. I feel like I really belong here.”
The farmer looked up from the book in their lap, smiling.
“I don't often show it, but I'm really happy that I'm your husband. Marrying you was the best decision I ever made.”
#stardew sebastian#sdv sebastian#stardew valley#stardew farmer#sebastian x farmer#sebastian x reader#stardew valley fanfic#stardew valley fic#sdv sebastian x reader#sdv sebastian x farmer#sdv sebastian fic#farmer x sebastian
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[ DRABBLE ] 𝐎𝐅𝐅𝐈𝐂𝐄 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒 ! ( fourth installment ) in which you are forced to plan a corporate event with your office enemy .
୨୧˚ part; one. two. three. four. five. six. seven. eight. nine. ten. eleven.
୨୧˚ incl; kento nanami
୨୧˚ cw; smut (?) , dub-con , alcohol consumption , profanity
( flashback; ) Wreaths and holly plants decked the usually barren, white walls of the seventh floor office level, and soft Christmas music looped on the overhead speaker in attempts to induce a jolly spirit. Colleagues conversed, discussing plans for December break over plastic cups of spiked cider. Everyone seemed in high morale; even Gakuganji, who donned a cheaply made Santa suit, still wrinkled from its time being folded in a package. Your first ever office party was about as much as you expected–not the worst time, but certainly not the best time, either. It didn’t help that you were still technically the “newbie” despite having been a member of the company for a few months at that point. Man, it was hard to make friends in an office full of stoic suits.
You remain near a far wall, slumped against the oversized copy machine with a drink in hand. Nobody had even appreciated your dress; a modest crimson thing with white, cottony trims to mimic Old Saint Nick. Figures. You pout into your cup, knocking back a heavy swig.
“Woah-ho, you sure went all out.”
The dialogue was unexpected and you sputter on a swallow of liquor, startled. A preemptive hand pats your back, something like a mother trying to burp a newborn. You swallow your spit at last, recollect yourself, and whip your head up to follow the source of the voice that nearly killed you. There stood a man tall and spindly in his stature with the most beautifully long, goldish hair drawn back into a ponytail. He is dressed down, wearing a simple pair of dark jeans and a sweater in favor of the suits nearly everyone else sported.
“You shouldn’t sneak up on ladies,” comes your meager reply. Your free hand smooths down the skirt of your dress, and you clear your throat. “You scared the shit out of me.”
The man smiles apologetically. “Ah, I noticed. My bad.”
“It’s okay. Just… just don’t do it again.”
“Roger that.” He has his own drink, and you manage to catch a glimpse of it over the rim of the solo cup. It’s a dark, murky color, much more amberish than the cider that was being served. “I haven’t seen your face around before, it made me curious.”
“I secured a position here during spring.” Now that you think about it, he was unfamiliar to you as well. You would have definitely remembered that ponytail. “Are you–I mean, do you work in this building?”
He shakes his head. “Nah, they got me holed up in the Shibuya location,” he winks, leaning in. “I make it a habit to come to all the office parties, though. I can’t resist a little holiday cheer.” Two bony knuckles move to brush delicately against the trim of your dress. “I’m Haruta Shigemo, and you’re…?”
“Not interested.”
Shigemo juts his bottom lip out. “C’mon, don’t be like that. I can’t know your name?”
Holding an index finger to your chin, you pretend to think about it. “What will you give me in return?”
A smirk worms its way onto Shigemo’s thin lips. He angles his hip toward you and pulls up the hem of his knitted sweater, gesturing to the uncanny flask half sticking out of his jeans’ pocket. “I brought good stuff,” he sings quietly, away from prying ears, and suddenly you understand the reason for his drink being a couple shades too dark. “And I’m good at sharing.”
Yeah, maybe it wasn’t the wisest decision to accept unknown liquor from a virtual stranger, you should’ve really considered all of the possible outcomes to this situation. You’d already had a little over two cups of warmed cider, rotating on the axis between tipsy and full on drunkenness. Your foggy brain didn’t care much to think about how some of this so-called “good stuff” would only lead to an inevitable, total inebriation. Or, a less likely but just as concerning scenario, Shigemo’s flask could be chock full of poison. Either way, you were itching to turn a less-than-okay party experience into a fun one.
“Y/n L/n,” you said finally, and Shigemo looks pleased. Strategically as to not give away the secret, he stood before you and widened his shoulders to create a makeshift cover while he poured a solid few glugs from flask to your cup. Immediately, the booze reeks of something strong like industrial glass cleaner. Your nose wrinkles as the stench singes the hair from your nostrils. “Smells fucking rancid.”
“Maybe you’re just not used to top shelf liquor?” Was that a dig? You’ll show him that you’re plenty accustomed with expensive booze (you’re not. not at all).
So you drank it. The taste of piss mixed with vinegar nearly made you retch, but after your second glass and an assload of determination, it started to taste… good? Maybe this Shigemo guy wasn’t too bad. The rest of the night was a blur of silly dancing to dumb Christmas songs, ugly laughing at the horse calendars pinned to the wall, and… well, the bathroom.
“We shouldn’t be doing this.” Your tone was breathy, a cross between giggly and pure apprehension. There in the men’s restrooms, you were perched up on the sink counter. That festive dress was slipped up around your hips by two slender, greedy hands, and a tiny waist worked between your thighs. Shigemo kissed you into silence.
“Why not?” He kisses you again, fumbling with his belt buckle. He’s nipping down your neck, whispering, “The risk is so fucking hot.”
And oh goodness, was he a man on a mission. Tearing the collar of your dress down beneath your breasts, fingering holes into your sheer stockings, stuffing a fist inside your panties… You were in no state of coherence to stop him.
Had it not been a professional obligation on his part to attend this year’s Christmas party, Nanami finds himself fantasizing about all the ways he’d much rather be spending this brisk winter evening. Probably soaking in his tub, nursing a glass of red wine and working on that book he’d been putting off thanks to the ungodly amount of work on his plate as of late. Then, he’d exercise those cooking skills he seldom had time to use and prepare a meal that had much more to offer than these feeble, sugary snacks at this party. Seriously? Cookies and cake? They were adults for goodness sake.
The floor was stuffy and claustrophobia-inducing. Everywhere he turned, Nanami was accidentally bumping somebody with his shoulder or his elbow or some other limb he lost track of. And the conversations were abysmal. Nanami has always been good with his words—he had to be in a profession like this—but Christ, talking to his zombies-for-coworkers was a worse fate than death itself. They drone on about office assignments, about deadlines and paperwork with no hint of light behind their eyes. Is that what he looks like to others? A worrisome thought, that Nanami was just as much of a slave to the corporate world as they were.
The deep train of thought is cut off before it spirals when red catches his eye. A dress red as rubies sticks out like a sore thumb among the sea of blacks and blues and grays of suits. You’re dressed in a silly get up, like those Mrs. Claus actresses in the malls that take pictures with children. Y/n L/n, Nanami recalls your name. He knows you, the newest employee in the office. He’s had very few chances to speak with you, and when he did it mostly consisted of him relaying orders from Mr. Gakuganji. But even in those brief instances, Nanami saw it plain as day: you were different. The first lively fool he’d seen in a while, eyes still glinting with the prospects of optimism and naive hope for the future. Foolish indeed, but he couldn’t bring himself to hate it. You were a breath of fresh air, but Nanami knew that it was only a matter of time before you were beaten and battered into another mindless cog in the corporation's machine.
A strange urge bloomed within the hollows of the man's chest; an urge that told him to initiate communication with you. Perhaps just a "hello" at the very least, seeing as you were his direct subordinate. It was the polite thing to do, right? Or maybe that was just a weak excuse he convinced himself of because Nanami didn't want to admit that you intrigued him in every sense of the word. You would provide an interesting back and forth, something Nanami desperately craved in the throes of this tedious party.
Golden eyes scanned the room. But no matter how long and meticulous he stared into the mass of bodies, Nanami could not locate the shade of red that had incited this search to begin with. There was a muted pit of disappointment the settled heavy in his stomach when he came to the realization that you simply were gone. He didn't doubt the probability that you ditched, no, he'd commend you for doing something he could not. Nanami sighs under his breath, lets his shoulders droop, and takes the last swig of his drink (water of course, the spiked cider was much too sweet for his tastes) before maneuvering through the crowd towards the bathroom. A five minute breather alone in a stall sounded like Heaven on Earth.
He shouldered through the metallic door, eyes closed, fingers tugging the knot of his too-tight tie as he stepped inside the restrooms. Only the sound of a feminine gasp was what pried his heavy eyelids open.
All three bodies froze: Nanami by the entrance with a slack jaw and wide eyes, a man he vaguely recalls from the Shibuya district stood between a pair of opened legs with his jeans tugged down to mid-thigh, and you. You, with your stupidly red dress in disarray, the neckline dipped below your bare breasts and the lower hem bunched up around the curve of your waistline. There you were, sitting up on the sink completely exposed... God, that bastard's hand was still buried down the front of your panties.
As if time suddenly unfroze, said bastard rips his hands away from your most delicate parts in favor of pulling his jeans back up. Nanami blinks once before cocking his head to the side at the unnatural speed of light, focusing on the faux plant in the corner, the uneven tiles beneath his dress shoes, the cracks in the eggshell paint on the wall... anything besides your indecent self.
"Whoops, would ya' look at that?" Shibuya fucker laughs halfheartedly as he fumbles with the button on his jeans, flustered and giggly. "Guess we got a little carried away there, my bad man!" He slinks towards the door, towards Nanami, but pauses. "Hey, you're Nanami Kento, right?"
"Yes." It's a cold response. Nanami doesn't look to the other man, instead he keeps his eyes trained down as to not get another eyeful of you.
"Aha right! Well," Shibuya fucker sweatdrops, clasping a hand over Nanami's shoulder. "Let's keep this a secret from the higher ups?"
The elder grimaces. "Please don't touch me."
The hand is ripped away. Shibuya fucker shows his palms in sort of a defensive stance as more anxious chuckles erupt from his throat. "Good seeing you, then!" And with that, he slips out of the bathroom leaving you high and dry. The prick didn't even bother to stay and help you get recollected.
"I'm decent." You sound meek, a tone Nanami has yet to hear from you thus far. It sounds small. Humiliated. "You... you can look now."
So he does, only to regret it. There you are, hopped off the sink and standing before him in a pitiful display. Your slender neck was tainted with love marks, darkened bruises bit into flesh with little artistry. Your stockings were shredded carelessly, bits of plumpness squishing through the holes. Your hair was mussed, forehead sweaty, lipstick smeared and... why was Nanami so irritated by the sight?
"What..." He starts, trying to find the words. "What is the matter with you?"
You gawk. "Nothing."
"Nothing." Nanami scoffs, hands pressed to his hips. "How careless could you possibly be? Fucking at a work event? I mean, for fuck's sake Y/n."
"I'm sorry, okay?" Your words are clipped. As if you have any right to catch an attitude with him right now.
"Sorry doesn't change the fact that you..." His sentence trails off into a tiny, frustrated growl scratching from the back of his tongue. The man takes his nose bridge between his thumb and forefinger. "The door was unlocked. Anyone could've walked in and saw you like that!" Exposed. Bare. Vulnerable.
"I don't know what else you want to hear other than sorry." Nanami doesn't miss the microscopic vocal crack in the word sorry. You hug yourself tight, forearms crossed over your chest. Your shoulders stutter, and your lips are sucked between your teeth to hide the wobble in them. "I'm... sorry."
You dress strap hangs off your shoulder. Nanami can't peel his gaze away from the strip of fabric. He takes a slow step in, gauging your reaction to it. You don't show any signs of discomfort, so he advances closer. The red strap is dainty against his rough fingers, so he cautions himself to be extra gentle when slipping it back up into place.
"Thanks," you sniffle.
He shushes you. Nanami isn't done yet, far from it. You still look disheveled and sad and weepy and he can't fucking stomach it for some ungodly reason. So he gets to work, first wetting a paper towel in the bathroom sink—the same one you'd been getting groped on a mere few minutes prior—and gingerly swipes away the smeared makeup from your kiss-swollen lips. Then, he's taking it upon himself to straighten out your hair. You let him stroke down your baby hairs without pushback, limply letting him rearrange your appearance as if you were some sort of life sized doll.
Nanami steps back to admire his work. The evidence of foreplay was nearly gone, save for the dreadful state of your stockings and those ugly teeth-shaped indents down the side of your neck. “Take those stockings off before you leave the bathroom,” he utters. “They look…” Slutty is the word that comes to mind first, but he’d never say it aloud. So he leaves it at that.
You’re looking at him with an unreadable expression. If anything, Nanami discerns a little concern in the way your brows turn upwards. “Are you going to tell anyone about this?”
He wants to oh so bad. To be the lame tattletale and snitch to Mr. Gakuganji because fraternization is wrong, and fraternization in the workplace is double wrong. “I should report you,” there’s a pregnant pause, “but I won’t.”
Why? He asks himself.
You seemed to have read his thoughts. “Why?”
Nanami doesn’t have an answer to that. Where is this slice of mercy coming from? All he knows for certain is that staring at the trembling woman in front of him any longer will have him blow a fuse. “Go home, Y/n.” It’s the last thing he offers before turning on his heel and walking back out into the Christmas function, swallowing down each and every confusing feeling swirling around his brain.
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