#i feel like this movie must be set in the 30s 20s the way the police officer was talking about her virginity from one night

[mifunebooty]

Hey hi yo wassup

[dandylovesturtles]

Using a random number generator for the angst prompts: 20 Starved + 30 Dangerous Temperatures

... and Leo, of course.

OH GOD OK

uh so. I had an idea. and I decided to write it for this ask I got forever ago. And then, uh.

it really

really got out of hand.

This is a pretty dark fic (even for me) and at the current moment in time it is hurt/no comfort. I do intend to write a part 2, probably tomorrow, but as of the time I'm typing this author's note I've been writing for around 5+ hours straight and I need to take a break! So please, if you don't want to read all this without the comfort included, feel free to wait for the next part before reading! I'll link it and the end once it's posted.

Content warnings: Kidnapping, confinement, psychological torture, nonconsensual voyeurism (I guess this is the best way to put this; Leo isn't doing anything sexual but it's still violating), mild violence, HEAVY ANGST, Leo just having the shittiest time possible.

I HOPE?? YOU ENJOY??? hahahaha....

btw this is set between S2 and the movie (though tbh its canon compliance is... /waves hand)

-----

When Leo imagined himself getting captured by some kind of shady, quasi-governmental agency intent on imprisoning mutants, it was never anything like this.

When he let his mind go there, he always pictured that he would be strapped to a table. Maybe muzzled. That scientists would stand over him, scalpels and drills in hand, and start to take him apart. That they'd examine him piece by piece, and wouldn't give him any anesthesia while they did it.

But there is no table, no muzzle, no restraints at all. He's just in a room.

Well, a cell, technically - the steel door is locked, and there are no windows, no furniture but a bare cot in one corner and a lone toilet in another. But it doesn't really look like a cell. It looks like a room.

A very, very white room. White walls. White ceiling. White tiles (with white grout, even). The toilet is white, a roll of white toilet paper on the floor next to it. The only things that aren't white are the cot and the door and Leo himself.

They took his gear and his weapons, because of course they did. Since the door is steel, he already knows he's not breaking it down; he gives it a half-hearted slam anyway, just to say he tried. He should be able to just portal out, except he hasn't learned how to use his portals without his swords to channel his ninpo through, and there's nothing in here with him that he can use to make new ones.

So he's stuck. He's going to have to wait until someone opens that door for some reason. Or, of course, until his family swings by to pick him up. Though, if possible, he'd like to escape before that happens. The image in his mind, of sitting outside his cell and grinning at them as they arrive to rescue him, is too cool to pass up.

He's not sure how long it's been already. He knows that they knocked him out after ambushing him, and he doesn't know how long he was unconscious. The heavy molasses feel of his head and arms when he woke up suggests that he was drugged. It's wearing off now, though, which means he has a clear head to take in the all of nothing that's in the room with him.

He sits on the cot he woke up on and waits for something to happen.

There's no way for him to tell time, but he thinks it's an hour or so later when there's a sudden beep, and then the sound of a metal panel sliding up. It's a slot near the door that has just opened - inside the revealed alcove is a bottle of water.

He comes to it curiously, taking a long look around the bottle. The slot doesn't open straight through, and even if it did, it's not big enough for anything more than his arm or a foot to fit through. He thinks it must function like an airlock, or maybe they slid the bottle down from somewhere above - he feels around just in case, and finds that the slot is enclosed on all sides but his. Probably his airlock theory, then.

As soon as he removes the bottle, the panel slams shut again.

"You're really determined to keep me in here, huh?" he says to whatever hidden cameras are watching him. He carries the water bottle back to his cot, but doesn't open it, instead setting it down on the floor by the wall. The paranoid part of his brain, the one that doesn't miss a trick, is reminding him that drinking the water is probably a bad idea. Who knows what they might have put in it?

He sits on the cot for awhile longer. Still, nothing happens.

"I'm getting pretty bored in here," he says for the audience that must be somewhere. "Come on, you have a one of a kind turtle in here, and you don't even want to talk to me?"

Time passes, slow and quiet. Leo goes through periods where his anxiety spikes and he starts to wonder if he's been abandoned by whoever brought him here, before the boredom eventually numbs the anxiety back out. Another bottle of water is eventually delivered, and this one he keeps in his hands after retrieving it. It's completely unlabeled, not even a "Use by" date printed on the bottle itself, so it doesn't provide much mental stimulation. He spins the bottle to make little whirlpools inside, because it's something to do.

He's trying to make the fastest whirlpool he can when he hears a sudden click, different from the beep of the water bottle hole, and he looks up just in time to see a large section of the wall in front of him turn black, and then light up to show the room beyond his cell.

He jolts, setting the bottle aside. He knew they must be watching him, but somehow he didn't catch that part of the wall was a whole window.

His audience isn't very large - five people, unless there are others he can't see. Two wear lab coats, two wear fatigues... but the one who comes to stand directly in front of the window is wearing a black suit, with steel rimmed glasses. He leans forward, and speaks into a small microphone.

"Inmate 24365," says the suited man. "I am Agent Bishop, of the Earth Protection Force. My subordinates tell me that you can speak and understand the English language. Is this correct?"

"Qué?" Leo asks.

Bishop does not look amused. "Inmate 24365," he says, "you have two options. You can cooperate with me, answer my questions, and we will make your stay here more comfortable. Do not cooperate, and we will make your stay uncomfortable. Do you understand?"

Leo pretends to hem and haw over this. "How comfortable are we talkin'?"

"I'm sure you would like some dinner."

"You know, I'm not really hungry." He says it to be difficult, but it's actually true - the uncertainty of the situation has put his stomach in too many knots to want to eat anything. "Maybe if you offer me some comic books? Or a TV?

To Bishop's credit, his face doesn't so much as twitch. He keeps his steely eyes locked on Leo. "Answer our questions, and you will receive food. Do you understand?"

Leo stays noncommittal. "What are the questions?"

He's expecting Bishop to ask about his family. He's not expecting what comes next.

"How many gateways are there between New York City and the hidden yokai enclave?" he asks. "How are these gateways accessed? What kind of defensive capabilities do the yokai have?"

Leo keeps the surprise off his face. Bishop thinks he's a yokai.

This is, overall, a good development. Bishop might not know about Leo's family, then, or at least not know that they live on the surface. This means the Earth Protection Force likely isn't pursuing his brothers, which means they will be safe until they can help Leo get out of here.

He doesn't let the relief show through, either. Bishop doesn't know anything, and now Leo just has to ride out the next few hours until the calvary arrives.

"You know," he says, "I think I'm good with my current levels of comfort."

If Bishop is mad or frustrated or dismayed by this choice, he doesn't show it. His expression stays stony as he stares in at Leo, sizing him up.

"Very well," he says after a few more seconds. "I will see you tomorrow, then."

The window goes dark, and then turns stark white to match the walls. Leo wants to go over and tap at it, see if it feels different when he touches it, but knowing that Bishop is surely still there, watching him, keeps him rooted to the cot.

He goes back to making whirlpools with the bottle. If they aren't going to entertain him, he isn't going to entertain them, either.

-----

Another water bottle comes some time after his talk with Bishop. He finally opens this one and takes a cautious sip. Nothing tastes off or strange, so he drinks more. They don't want to feed him, but they're fine keeping him hydrated. No reason to stay thirsty, then.

He wishes the water calmed the anxiety still roiling in his stomach, but if anything it just makes him feel even more energized. He bounces his foot and surveys his room again, looking for any weak spots or access points. He can't see anything, though, other than the areas where he knows the water bottle hole and window are; even the vents that relentlessly blow cold air into the room are well hidden.

Knowing that there are people standing just outside his cell watching him, like some kind of zoo animal, puts him on edge. The window is so big that he's pretty sure the only blind spots are either directly underneath it or right by the door on the same wall. After debating it, he leaves his cot and sits on the floor underneath the window, surveying the room from a different angle now and still coming up empty. At least they're going to have a harder time staring at him.

His eyes catch on the toilet in the corner, directly across from the window. It's not in the blind spot, and realizing this makes his insides lurch uncomfortably - hopefully he has a chance to bust out before using it becomes necessary.

Though, he's not sure when that chance is going to come. If they have a slot to pass him water, they could use that to pass him food, too, so it's unlikely that anyone is going to open the door unless they need to take him out.

So maybe his fantasy of being outside when his brothers arrive isn't going to happen. Well, that's okay; he'll just be sure to make some other part of their escape totally rad. That will make up for the embarrassment of getting kidnapped a block from Run of the Mill.

(Seriously, some kind of ninja he is, to let a bunch of human soldiers sneak up on him.)

He drains the water bottle, then starts to roll it back and forth across the floor, like a cat batting at a toy. Leo's not sure what's worse right now: the worry or the boredom. There's nothing to look at and no one to talk to, just an empty room with him and his water bottles.

He's too keyed up to sleep, and the fluorescent lights are still on, anyway. He has no way of telling what time it is, so maybe it just isn't that late yet. And even sitting here, in the blind spot, the idea of closing his eyes while people are watching makes unease crawl up his spine. Staying awake is the easy choice. He'll sleep after he's out of here.

So he sits under the window and rolls his bottle back and forth, back and forth, with only the sound of plastic on tile to keep his thoughts company.

-----

The first three water bottles came pretty regularly, but now there is a very long stretch where nothing is delivered. Leo is starting to think maybe it really is night now. They don't turn off the lights in his cell, though, and he has no controls to do it himself. At least it helps with the whole "staying awake" thing.

Just in case they've decided to suspend his water privileges along with the food, he holds off drinking any more for now.

Speaking of food, his appetite has finally decided to return. His stomach starts to growl at him after several hours (he thinks) of sitting in the floor, an annoying emptiness in his stomach. Knowing there's no food accessible just makes the hunger sharper, but he puts it out of his mind the best he can with nothing else to focus on. He can eat once he's free.

Which should be soon. Seriously, his brothers have to be on their way by now, right?

He's pretty sure it's been the better part of a day, if not a whole day, since he was kidnapped. And, okay, he's willing to give them some leeway; it's understandable if they got a late start. He did storm out of the lair after his latest fight with Raph, and no one ever came to check on him when he did that. Understandably, he thinks, because who wants to be around Bad Mood Leo? Not even Leo wants to be around Bad Mood Leo!

But he'd already turned back into Good Mood Leo by the time he left Hueso's, so surely they knew it had been more than enough time. They would have noticed when he didn't come home. They would have realized something happened. They would be looking for him.

And if they're looking for him, they'll find him! Obviously.

His stomach growls again, and Leo leans his head back against the wall behind him. Maybe he shouldn't think of being at Hueso's. Now he just wants pizza. Pepperoni and mushroom, maybe, or Hawaiian. Mix it up a little with the barbeque chicken.

Another growl. He groans out loud.

He stays awake, twisting and crinkling the empty bottle in his hands, until another full one finally arrives.

-----

No chance to escape comes before using the toilet is necessary.

He tried to hold out, he really did, but he ended up drinking more water to stave off the growing hunger, and it's lowkey cold in here, which doesn't help. Still, the issue of the window sends an uneasy shiver up his spine, doubting that any people outside will feel the need to turn away and give him some privacy. Maybe he should have gone while he suspected it was nighttime.

(Maybe he shouldn't assume they ever aren't watching him.)

He stands up and walks over to the cot, giving it a light nudge with his foot. In a stroke of luck, it isn't bolted to the floor, and it's light enough that he can lift it. The black mesh it's made of is tightly woven, enough that not much is visible through it. It will have to do.

He picks it up and drags it over in front of the toilet, propping it up on its legs so it makes a small wall between himself and the window. It's hardly ideal, but the semblance of privacy makes him relax somewhat.

(He can't think about how there are surely cameras in the room watching him from all angles, making his attempt at a barrier moot. He knows better than anyone that sometimes pleasant lies are necessary.)

After he does his business, he leaves the cot propped where it is; it's not like he's sleeping on it. There's no sink for him to wash his hands, but he's never been the strictest about it, anyway (much to Donnie's disgust). He returns to his spot under the window, squeezing the water bottle to the rhythm of the first song that comes to mind.

Only two verses and a bridge later, the window above his head turns black, then goes clear. Thinking that Bishop might have been watching him just now makes a cold, slimy feeling roll down his spine. Creepy!

"Inmate 24365," comes Bishop's voice through the unseen speaker. "Stand."

Leo doesn't. He stays right where he is, under the window.

Bishop waits only a few seconds. Then Leo hears him say, "Temperature down two degrees."

He gets up at that, turning and leaning his arm against the window. It strangely doesn't feel like glass, even though it must be. "It's already cold enough in here," he says. He wonders how they can hear him, when he doesn't see a microphone on his side.

"You were told your conditions would only be made comfortable after you answer our questions," Bishop informs him. "The same as before: how many gateways are there between New York City and the hidden yokai enclave? How are these gateways-"

"How about you answer my questions first," Leo interjects. "You keep calling me "inmate," but I haven't been charged with anything. Pretty sure you can't detain me without cause."

"The EPF is authorized to detain non-human inmates for as long as deemed necessary for the security of the United States," says Bishop smoothly. "Probable cause doctrine does not apply in this case."

"That's gotta be unconstitutional."

"The constitution does not recognize the rights of yokai. You have no right to counsel, no right to a speedy trial, and no right to protections from cruel and unusual punishments." Bishop's stare is colder than the temperature in the room. "But I am not an unfair man. Answer my questions, and I will provide you with food and clothing."

Leo tosses a glance over his shoulder. "How about a private bathroom?"

Bishop's expression stays ever in place, unimpressed and stoic. "Food and clothing," he repeats.

Leo gives his head a shake. "Then nope," he says, popping the "p". "I plead the fifth."

"As I have already explained, the Bill of Rights does not apply to you."

"That's such crap." Leo bangs his fist on the window. "You can't just keep me here forever for no reason!"

"I do have reasons." Bishop leans closer to the window, his eyes narrowing. "Let's try a different question. What is your relation to Baron Draxum?"

The surprise is fast and sharp, but Leo just manages to keep it from showing on his face. "Who?" he asks innocently, even as the panic sets into his chest. If they know about Draxum, what else do they know?

"We know you are acquainted with him," says Bishop. "What is the nature of your relationship?"

Leo knows they aren't bluffing - why would they bring up that very specific name otherwise? There's no lie he can tell that won't reveal something.

So he doesn't say anything. Instead, he turns his back to the window and sits down, staring resolutely at the opposite wall.

Bishop clicks his tongue. "Very well," he says. "I am a patient man. I can wait." Then, more muffled, like he's facing away from the microphone, Leo hears him say, "Temperature down two degrees."

The window goes dark, then turns back to white. Leo doesn't move for a long time.

-----

The third water bottle arrives, so he guesses that's the end of day two.

He's shaking as he gets up to retrieve it, adding it to his growing water bottle hoard. He's gone through three and a half by now, but he's trying not to drink them too fast.

As promised, no food is delivered, and his stomach growls and rumbles in protest. The water helps, but only slightly. He needs to eat.

He also needs to sleep.

The panicked adrenaline spikes that have kept him awake this long are starting to die down, with more and more long stretches of exhaustion between them. The shaking is near constant, bringing with it the weird jittery feeling he gets when his insomnia gets particularly bad.

The window is still unnerving him. The idea of sleeping while they're watching him feels staggeringly unsafe.

But he doesn't think he can hold out now until his family gets here. Sure, they're probably getting close (they have to be getting close), but they're sure taking their sweet time. And he's just so tired.

After a long internal debate, he lays down on the cold tile floor. It's not at all comfortable, but somehow he doubts the cot would be any better. Besides, even if he moves the cot under the window, he thinks it would be easier to see him if he uses it. So on the floor it is.

He presses as close to the wall as he can, curling up into a ball for warmth. He wishes he had a blanket.

He wishes he was home.

He squeezes his eyes shut tight and forces back the sudden wave of overwhelming homesickness. There's no reason to feel this way. It's only been two days! What is he, a baby?

It's fine. It's all fine. They're definitely on his trail now. Raph is leading the team. Donnie is using some kind of invention to blah blah blah nerd stuff. Mikey is razzing his tazz. April is using her investigative journalism skills to find clues.

They're on their way. He just has to hold out a little longer. He can do this.

He sleeps, and in his dreams, something grabs him tight and drags him down and down and down where he can't escape.

-----

The same routine plays out over the next two days.

Leo gets two water bottles delivered, spaced, if he had to guess, about five hours apart. Bishop comes to visit him some time after the second bottle. Leo refuses to answer his questions. Bishop turns the temperature down and then leaves. A few hours later his last water bottle comes. Then nothing for the whole night.

They still don't turn off his lights, but exhaustion is starting to win over the brightness.

More than a few times, Leo tries to summon a portal on his own, without his swords. If his family is going to take their sweet time in coming, he might as well try to help them out. He tries to summon his ninpo (without glowing), tries to feel the tug inside of him that he always does when he teleports, tries to envision the place he wants to go and tunnel through space to get there.

Nothing. Always nothing.

(Donnie can make his constructs independent of his bo staff. Raph can send his projections away from his sai. Mikey's learning to use mystic powers without his nunchucks. So why does Leo need his katana? Why is he the only one this useless?)

It probably doesn't help that he's so damn hungry. It's a constant companion now, a low and hollow ache that chooses inconvenient times to turn into white hot stabs of urgency, into seizing cramps that steal his breath. The water only helps so much - it keeps him alive but doesn't satisfy, doesn't soothe. In some ways it just makes the feeling worse.

And he's always shaking, too, but he doesn't know if that's the hunger or the cold.

Maybe the cold wouldn't bother him so much if it were at least still. But the vents blow fresh air inside relentlessly, and no matter where he goes he can't seem to get out of the direct stream. The cold wind batters his tired body, and there's places his skin is starting to turn dry and flaky. His nose won't stop running, and he's allowed himself a small section of his one roll of toilet paper to blow it, already stiff and congealed and disgusting.

It's miserable.

And there's still nothing to do.

He stacks a pyramid out of his empty water bottles, knocks it down, then stacks it up again. He tries to come up with some new and exciting ways to demolish it, but it's only new and exciting for so long.

He spends a few hours of day three singing karaoke as obnoxiously as possible. He hopes everyone outside enjoys the performance.

He recounts every issue of Jupiter Jim he knows to himself, then the plot of every movie. Then he goes through Lou Jitsu films, then anything else he can think of. That eats up a good chunk of day four.

By the time he gets his first water bottle of day five, he's out of ideas to entertain himself. He's never been good at this. He doesn't know how introverts like Donnie can go multiple days without talking to someone.

But when Bishop comes back with his daily offer of conversation, Leo once again impolitely declines.

-----

Something new happens on night five.

It's been a long time since the last water bottle. Leo has been trying to sleep, but it's not coming easy; he's exhausted, but the floor is so cold and he's so sore from staying on it night after night. Not to mention, his nightmares have been getting worse, and he isn't eager to return to them.

Add on the hunger, and sleep is elusive.

Suddenly, there's the telltale shadow of the window above him turning dark - this time, though, it doesn't light up as much as normal. Confused and curious, Leo sits up and takes a peek.

The room beyond is dim, only the glow of a green EXIT sign and a small desk lamp lighting the space. But it's enough for Leo to see a man standing there, looking inside. It's not Bishop - in fact, he doesn't recognize this person at all. They're wearing fatigues, but it's not anyone he's seen in the room during Bishop's normal interrogations.

The man catches sight of Leo, and the grinning leer on his face makes Leo regret looking.

He beckons for Leo to stand up. Warily, Leo does, unable to help but keep his arms folded tight over his chest. Not for the first time, he wishes he had some clothes - his gear, at the very least. Anything to not feel quite so exposed.

The man reaches down and picks something up, holding it aloft for Leo's inspection. "Want a sandwich?" he asks into the microphone.

The sandwich looks like white bread and bologna. No cheese, no other toppings that Leo can spot. Maybe some mustard, if anything. Overall, the most boring possible sandwich he could have been offered.

Leo's mouth is watering.

He has to swallow hard before answering. He doesn't trust this. Even if his stomach is slamming up and down at the promise of food, food, food.

"I'm not hungry," he lies.

The man laughs. It's not a kind sound. "Sure you ain't," he says. "You spend every night curled up on the floor like the dumb animal you are. Can you even eat this?" He waves the sandwich for emphasis.

Leo doesn't answer. He takes a step back from the window, like that will put any kind of distance between them. Like that will save him.

The man watches him with a sleezy grin. He waves the sandwich again.

"You want this," he says.

Leo shakes his head.

"You really sure?"

Leo shudders. Stands tall. Nods.

The man watches him for a long, long moment. Leo fights the urge to hide.

Finally, with a shrug, the man says, "Suit yourself."

Then he starts eating the sandwich. Right where Leo can watch.

Leo's stomach growls, loud and angry in his ears, and he has to physically hold himself back from crumpling.

After several bites, the man suddenly reaches out and taps the window, indicating the cot stood up in front of the toilet.

"That," he says, giving another tap for emphasis, "doesn't do shit."

Leo wants to crawl out of his own skin.

The need to hide is suddenly too great. He rushes to the cot, grabbing it and dragging it back to the blind spot under the window. He sets it down on all four legs, so it's as close to the floor as possible.

Then he lies down on his belly and wriggles underneath. It's a tight squeeze, and the cot ends up pushed up by his shell, suspended in the air, but he doesn't care.

He curls up in his pleasant lie of privacy and bites his hand to keep from screaming himself hoarse.

After an eternity, the window above him turns white again. It doesn't matter. Leo knows he's still there. Still watching.

-----

"You look tired," Bishop greets him. Leo answers with a dead-eyed stare.

"I keep telling you, if you want your conditions to improve, all you have to do is answer my questions."

Leo says nothing. He just stares, arms wrapped tight around himself to try and keep his body heat in.

"How many gateways are there between New York City and the hidden yokai enclave? How are these gateways accessed?"

For a moment, Leo considers just... telling him.

His family doesn't live in the Hidden City. The yokai have never exactly greeted them with open arms. What does he care if these military guys go after them? At least then, maybe he can finally eat something.

That's not what a hero does, Leo! echoes Mind Raph disapprovingly. Innocent people will get hurt!

Right. He's a hero. And heroes don't give into the demands of shitty guys like Bishop.

Leo swallows hard. "No comment."

Bishop's face changes ever so slightly: his brow creases. Leo wonders if that's good or bad for him.

"You understand that Baron Draxum is a known threat, don't you?" he asks. "We are aware of his plans to commit mass murder on the human population. We also know that he has been dormant for some time, and we need information on what he is planning."

Leo thinks of Barry's ambitions to be recognized as the best lunchperson in all of America and can't help but laugh. It comes out cracked and wheezing.

Bishop's furrow gets deeper. "Do you think this is funny?"

"Little bit," says Leo.

Bishop has a chasm to rival Raph's now. Leo knows he shouldn't, but he grins. It's his one moment of triumph - only he can be this aggravating.

And then Bishop says, "Temperature down seven degrees," and that wipes the smile right off Leo's face.

-----

The plastic of the water bottles is soft and pliable and feels weirdly good under Leo's teeth.

He chews the top of the bottle, gnawing at it until it's completely flattened out, pockmarked with little tiny indents from his incisors. It's not eating - it won't fill his belly or ease the persistent hunger pains. But something about the motion is soothing. The place-bo effect.

Pla-ce-bo, corrects Donnie's voice in his mind, sounding testy.

Where are you? Leo thinks back.

There's no answer.

He's gnawed his way through four water bottles. There's eighteen in total now, two and a half still full of water. He thought about using one to wash up a bit, but decided against it in the end. He knows he stinks, but the last thing he wants right now is to be wet. Not when he's starting to see his breath.

Oh well. It's not like he has anywhere to be.

He turns his attentions to the lids next. These are harder and thus tougher to chew. Still, if Leo uses his molars, he can eventually crack the lip, and then bend the plastic in and in, chewing until he ends up with a flat disc.

It's just small enough that Leo could swallow it, if he wanted to.

He thinks he remembers watching some kind of wildlife documentary. Or maybe he didn't watch it himself, but Mikey told him about it. Or maybe April? He doesn't know. His thoughts swim in and out and get lost on the way.

Point is. Sea turtles in the wild die all the time because of plastic in the water. They cut open their stomachs and find trash inside.

Well, Leo is a turtle in captivity. Maybe that means he's immune. Maybe he could swallow this plastic lid, and then he'd finally feel full and the pain pain pain of his empty stomach would go away.

He does not swallow the plastic lid. But it's more tempting than he'd like to admit.

It's going to be okay. When his family gets him out of here, they'll have a big pizza to celebrate. Maybe he can even talk them into letting him have the last slice.

It has to be any moment now, right? It's been a week. They have to be closing in. Any moment now, the door will open, and there they'll be to take him home.

The air conditioning blows relentlessly against his skin. He sneezes, then rubs the snot on his arm. He's given up on the tissue paper.

It'll be over soon. It has to be. Just hang in there, Leon, just a little longer.

He picks up another bottle and starts chewing.

-----

He's playing a mindless little game with his flattened bottle lids the next time Bishop comes.

"I'm surprised you still have any energy at all," says Bishop, and Leo wants to punch him.

(Really, he wants to do more than that. But those kinds of thoughts always make him feel weird and bad, so he pushes them away.)

"You should have learned by now," he says, pushing to his feet and trying not to show how badly he's trembling, "you can't keep me down."

"This is all unnecessary," says Bishop. "I'll feed you as soon as you answer my questions."

Leo barks out a laugh. "Sure you will."

"I will," says Bishop. He turns and says over his shoulder, "Bring it here."

One of the men in fatigues steps forward and hands a tray with a covered plate over to Bishop. Bishop uncovers the tray and holds it where Leo can see.

Baked chicken, broccoli with cheese, mashed potatoes.

Leo's stomach twists and cramps so painfully he has to bend at the hips and clutch his midriff.

"This is yours, as soon as you answer my questions."

Leo pointedly keeps from looking at the food. He shakes his head. He can't. He can't.

"Such persistence." Bishop's voice is scolding now. "You understand that you are a known accomplice to a terrorist, don't you? But if you become a cooperating witness, you will be granted some leniency."

Leo barks a laugh, lifting his eyes to look at Bishop's face, and pointedly not the food. "What's the point?" he asks. "If I'm not... protected by the constitution, or whatever. Are you going to let me go?"

"No," says Bishop. "But as I have told you, your conditions will become more comfortable." He waves the tray of food.

Leo stares at him, before a manic smile splits his face.

"You... stupid bastard. I can't even answer your questions." He slams a shaking hand against his plastron. "I'm not even a yokai! Do you get that? I'm not a yokai!"

Bishop looks skeptical. "Obviously you are."

"I'm not!" Leo rages. "I'm a mutant! I'm from New York! I don't even live in the Hidden City!"

Bishop's eyes flash. "I see," he says, "so you do know of it."

Leo falters, his body going slack.

What an obvious, stupid mistake.

(Some face-man he is.)

It takes Leo a long moment to answer. Bishop stays right where he is, holding the food so tantalizingly close and yet still out of reach.

"...I don't know about the gateways," he says finally. "I don't know about their defensive capabilities. I don't know what Baron Draxum is planning."

"Your lies are obvious," says Bishop. "You really don't want this? It's your last chance today."

Leo stares at the food. His mouth is watering so hard it might start to drip. Would it really be so bad to answer? They don't live in the Hidden City. And Draxum dropped him off a roof.

Draxum is trying to change, says Mind Raph. You see what these guys are like. You can't turn the yokai over to them. They'll hurt them!

What about me? he asks. Is it okay if I get hurt?

You're a hero, Leo, says Mind Raph. You can deal with it for a little longer. It's just a room. Just a little cold. Just some hunger.

He's a hero. He can deal with it. He can. He can.

He'll make them proud. Show them they can trust him.

It takes everything he has, but he shakes his head.

Bishop tuts. Then he throws the entire plate in the trash.

"Tomorrow, then," he says. Then the window is gone.

Leo collapses on his cot and tries not to cry.

-----

After his third water bottle on day eight, one of the fluorescent lights over his head flickers and then dies out.

It's not surprising, since they keep them running twenty-four seven. The blessedly dimmed lighting is actually nice, for once. Leo thinks maybe he could get some sleep, if the gnawing hunger and the constant shivers don't keep him awake.

He's just closed his eyes and snuggled up under his cot when it occurs to him: they may come in to fix it. If keeping the lights on day and night is part of their plan to torture him, to keep him exhausted and anxious and on edge, then they have to.

Which means his chance is finally here.

He has to be careful about this. He has to be ready to move, but he can't let them know he's ready to move. He has to let them think he's too weak, too exhausted, to make an escape attempt.

(He can't let himself think that, though. He can't give up before he tries.)

So he stays under his cot, but subtly shifts it so it won't restrict his movement. He has to be ready to burst out as soon as he gets a chance. Get past whoever comes in, then get out the door. It's after the last water bottle, so it's nighttime. There will be fewer people. He can do this. He can do this.

Find his swords. Make a portal. Get out.

Just as he was thinking, after a long time has passed, there is a loud warning beep, different from the water bottle beep. An automated voice says from somewhere unseen, "Inmates clear the door. Security personnel entering. Stay still and you will not be harmed."

Then the door slides open, and someone comes in.

It's a man wearing fatigues. Leo thinks this is the one who "offered" him a sandwich the other day. He's holding some kind of gun with a long barrel. He does a sweep of the room with his eyes, coming to rest on Leo under his cot. He gives Leo the same leering grin, and waves the barrel of the gun in his direction.

"Now you behave, and we'll get along just fine," he says.

He steps to the side, and another man enters, this one wearing the kind of jumpsuit Leo sees janitors in on TV. He's carrying a stepladder in one hand and a long tube in the other. Is that what fluorescent lights look like? Leo didn't know.

The man walks to the middle of the room and sets up his stepladder. Then he walks up and pulls off the light casing. When he unhooks the old bulb, it causes the other bulb to flicker, just for a few moments.

Leo explodes out from under the cot, grabbing the man in fatigues by the legs and yanking as hard as he can. The man yelps in surprise, and Leo hears the sound of the gun going off in a random direction. The janitor shouts and drops the light bulb - the sound of shattering glass joins the cacophony.

Leo jumps to his feet and runs out the door they had been too stupid to close, sprinting toward the EXIT sign. He's exhausted and shaky but he's coursing with adrenaline, and he leans on it hard to keep him moving. Don't stop, don't stop, get out of here. He'll figure out what to do next once he's free.

Past the exit sign there's a large open room with desks and computer monitors. Most of them are off, but one lingering woman in a lab coat, seated at her desk, screams when she sees Leo dash through the middle of the office space.

"Security!" she screams into a device on her chest. "Inmate is escaping! Inmate is escaping!"

Leo doesn't have time to shut her up, he just keeps moving. He pushes through the next door and arrives in a hallway; he only has time to glance one way and then the other before scrambling to the left, hoping it was a good choice.

He rounds a corner and sees another green EXIT sign up ahead. It's not where he meant to go - he meant to find where they're keeping his swords first. But he hears shouting behind him and doesn't stop. Fine, so no portals - he'll figure out something else once he's away from here.

He throws himself forward into the exit door, which leads him into yet another hallway. Another long sprint, with shouting and slamming doors at his heels, and then finally, finally, a third EXIT sign, and he crashes outside.

Where there's snow on the ground, snow on the trees.

It steals his breath away. There shouldn't be snow. It's May.

Where is he?

He takes a breath of air so cold it seizes his lungs, then takes a step forward. He'll worry about that-

BANG!

A piercing pain in his shoulder nearly sends him toppling over. Leo shouts, grasping for the wound and feeling something sticking out of his skin. He grabs it and yanks, pulling it free.

It's a dart.

Damn it, he thinks, before his vision goes woozy, and he collapses into the snow.

-----

"Are you proud of your little escape attempt?" comes Bishop's voice.

Leo looks up from his cot. Bishop has to get so close to the window to see him that his nose is pressed flat against it. It should be hilarious, but Leo doesn't really have the energy to laugh. Or to do much of anything.

He's hungry. He's tired. He's cold. He's still sluggish from the drugs.

And they threw away all his water bottles. Fuckers.

Leo rolls over on the cot and covers his ears.

"What a childish response," says Bishop, and that's funny, too, because Leo literally is a child. Or a teenager, anyway. He doesn't feel like it will help him much to point that out, though.

"All you have to do is answer my questions, and all this will be fixed."

That's the funniest thing of all. The idea that he spills his guts and Bishop treats him to a five course meal to make up for all the pain up till now. Hilarious.

He says nothing.

Bishop sighs.

"You are likely still affected by the tranquilizing agent. I'll return tomorrow."

Before he leaves, he says, "Temperature down five degrees."

-----

The same man is back that night. He opens the window and looks down at Leo with the same leering smile. Leo can't even take satisfaction in the bandage on the side of his head.

"Neat little trick you had yesterday," he says. "Almost got me fired."

Leo wishes it had gotten him fired. But he clearly has no luck in this situation.

"You know, I respect the attempt. And you probably would have gotten farther with a little food in your belly." The man reaches down, then retrieves a sandwich, as mouth-wateringly unappetizing as the last time. "You sure you don't want this?"

And Leo knows he shouldn't trust this guy. Leo knows he should say no.

But he's just...

so...

hungry.

So he gets up. And he turns to the window. On shaking limbs that can barely hold him upright anymore. With a body that is laced with pain and aches and cramps.

And he nods.

The man's smile gets wider. "What do you say?" he asks, in the sing-song tone of a parent scolding a child.

It makes a sick nausea rise in Leo's throat. But he wants the sandwich.

"Please," he gasps out.

"Mmm... not good enough." The man waves the sandwich. "You want this? You beg for it."

Leo stares, eyes wide. But the sandwich... the sandwich...

He gets down on his knees. Feels a searing flush of humiliation. His stomach is rolling and gurgling and cramping with pain, a hollow, empty chasm inside him desperate to be filled.

He lowers his head.

"Please," he says. "I... I want the sandwich. I'm... begging you, please."

The man laughs, loud and long. When Leo finally finds it in him to raise his eyes, the sandwich is already half eaten.

"Hey, good job," says the man, licking a bit of mustard off his thumb. "That was real convincin'."

And then he takes another bite.

Just like that, Leo forgets about the pain, the aches, the cold, the hunger. All that's left is pure, white hot, screaming rage.

Leo lunges at the window and slams his fist into it so hard it cracks. Not enough to break the glass. Not enough to free him. But enough that the man startles and steps back.

And Leo starts to laugh. High and manic and unhinged even to his own ears.

"I'll kill you," he says, and his voice sounds almost joking, and yet- "I'll kill you. You're dead. You're dead, as soon as I get out of here, you're dead, I'll kill you, I'LL KILL YOU!"

The man has dropped the rest of his sandwich. He fumbles for his gun, left somewhere on a table to the side. For one satisfying moment, Leo sees a flash of genuine fear on the man's face.

"Shit," he says, his voice far away the further he gets from the microphone. "Pretty scary, frogboy."

Then he slams a button, and the window goes black, and Leo gets a glimpse of his own reflection.

His face is gaunt and drawn. His eyes are ringed by deep circles, so dark they look like bruises. His body is shaking like a leaf.

And his stripes...

His stripes are lit up like when he uses his ninpo, but they aren't their usual Neon Leon bright.

They're almost black.

Leo gasps and stumbles back just as the window goes white. The full body quakes he feels now aren't from the cold or the hunger or the exhaustion.

He turns and sinks onto the cot. Puts his face in his hands and tries to breathe. Tries to will his ninpo to stop rolling and snapping and to go back to normal.

This isn't what he wants. This isn't him.

This place is breaking him. He's letting it break him.

He pulls his legs up onto the cot and buries his face in his knees. Wraps his arms around them and rocks gently, the way Donnie used to do when things got overwhelming. Maybe he understands that better, now.

This isn't him. He's Leonardo, Neon Leon, the face-man, the jokester! The one who's always ready with a quip and a laugh. The one who can do anything!

Except portal out of his room. Except escape from this building. Except resist begging for a sandwich like he's a dog.

Leo's breath hitches, and for once he doesn't stop himself. He knows the guy outside is probably watching. He knows there are cameras recording this. He hates giving them the satisfaction.

But he's tired, and hungry, and he...

He wants to go home.

He cries, silently, until he's completely rung out.

-----

Maybe they aren't coming.

That's the thought that pops into his head, just a bit after the first water bottle of the day.

He knew they would have gotten a late start, because he stormed out. And he knew it would take them awhile to figure out who took him - he hadn't heard of the EPF before, so why would they? And he knew it would take them time to figure out where he had been taken, which must have been pretty far out if it's snowing outside. But the EPF got him here within a night, he's pretty sure, so unless they have a super fast jet, he must still be on the continent somewhere.

So... so surely they must have figured it out by now, right? Raph is leading the team. Donnie is doing science things. Mikey is razzing his tazz. April is using her investigative skills.

Unless they aren't coming.

Maybe... maybe it's true. Why would they want him back, after all? Leo took Raph's leader position, and since then all he'd managed to do was piss Raph off. Mikey and Donnie hadn't been happy about it, either, and he'd noticed that they'd been avoiding him more and more. April claimed she wasn't taking sides, but she always seemed to be on Raph's anyway. And Dad... well, he was probably disappointed that he made Leo leader only for him to do nothing and then get himself kidnapped.

He doesn't bring anything to the team. He doesn't bring anything to the family. And no one likes his jokes.

So. Maybe they just... aren't looking. Maybe they aren't going to come.

Maybe he's held out this long for no reason. Maybe he's been cold and starving for no reason at all.

Maybe it's time to give up.

---

Don't give up, says a new voice in his head.

You are not alone.

-----

He has no energy left to stand when Bishop comes. The man looks down at him, lips pressed into a thin line.

"You don't look well," he observes.

No shit, Leo wants to say.

"This has gone on long enough. Answer my questions, and we will provide you with food, clothing, and medical care."

The list is getting longer. Leo's fuzzy eyes stare up at Bishop. Medical care. Does he need that?

"You already know what I want to know." Bishop has a furrow between his eyebrows now. "Will you talk to me?"

He could. He could do it. He could finally have some relief from all the pain. All the hunger. All the cold.

But they might hurt the yokai in the Hidden City.

They might hurt Draxum.

They might hurt his family.

And maybe, if nothing else... if Leo could just keep his mouth shut, just this once...

Maybe that would finally make Raph, Dad, and everyone proud of him.

Maybe they'd finally trust him.

Maybe, at least, he can have that much.

Leo shakes his head.

Bishop scowls.

"Temperature down ten degrees."

-----

Leo isn't shivering anymore. That's probably a bad sign.

He can still see his breath, each time he exhales. It rises like smoke, before disappearing into the air.

He doesn't have any energy left, not even to chew on his new water bottles. He hasn't even collected the last two, and they sit crowded together in the slot, untouched.

He kind of wishes they had just dissected him from the beginning. It would have been faster. Freezing to death, he's decided, is a real zero out of ten. Starving to death isn't any better. No stars.

Even though the damn lights are still on, he feels extremely sleepy. It's probably the cold. He wonders what will happen if he brumates. He's never done it before, not like his little cousins, and he has no idea if it's even safe.

Probably not, given he has no calorie reserves left. All it means is he won't be drinking water, either.

But he's so sleepy.

It's going to be time soon for Bishop to come back. Leo doesn't know what the point is anymore. Maybe he'll just sleep through it. Yeah, that would really make him mad. And making Bishop mad is all he has at this point.

And he'll get to sleep. It's a win-win.

So thinking, Leo rolls himself over onto his belly. Then, one by one, he pulls his limbs into his shell.

He doesn't do this much anymore, not since he started growing. His body just doesn't seem to fit his shell like it should - a side effect of the mutation, probably. It's not really comfortable to be inside for long.

But Leo is sleepy. And his shell feels like the best place to be.

So he pulls in his legs, then his arms, and then, finally, his head.

It's not any warmer in here. But at least it's dark.

At least he's not shivering.

Leo sighs, content, and closes his eyes, and drifts to sleep.

-----

(Outside his cell, there's a bang, and shouting, and a gunshot.

The sound is muffled, and Leo sleeps on.)

-----

Part 1 (here) | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 Part A |

[sadesluvr]

Guilty - William Afton x Reader

To be a lawyer is to adhere to a strict code of ethics.

A/N: Slight AU, but not really. This is kind of tame compared to other William fics I have planned, but I thought it’d be fun to make Reader more dominant and less innocent than usual! This has a bit of build up, but it pays off ofc ;) You can imagine William to be in his 40s/50s like he is in the movie, or 30s as he would’ve been during his killing spree.

Word count: 2.6K

Tags: SMUT / Age gaps (Reader is in her 20s) / Sexual tension / Hybristophilia / Power play (Kinda) / Fearplay (If you squint) / Clothed sex / Unprotected sex / Mutual consent / Dirty talk / Discussion of murder / Mentions of cheating

Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza was in a mess. A bunch of children had just gone missing - presumed dead - and there were even rumblings of a lawsuit from the victims’ families. It certainly wasn’t the case an up-and-coming lawyer usually received, but had the potential to be the one that cemented your career.

“I must say, I’m rather surprised you chose me to help you out,” you said to the man who was sitting at the table as you closed the door behind you. Your office was by no means large, but it was sizable enough to make you feel important.

“Why’s that?” He asked, cocking his head, his brows raising above the rims of his glasses. You’d done your pre reading; the man’s name was William Afton, a humble businessman who’d started the pizzeria and had come to you for help. He seemed well meaning enough.

“Well,” you began, adjusting your skirt as you sat down, “I’m not the typical face you’d imagine when picturing a bloodthirsty lawyer. Especially someone like you…”You said carefully. It was no secret that men either overlooked you, or went out of their way to hire you for your ‘assets’. “I find they’re usually set in their ways about having a woman deal with their issues,”

The man shrugged, a small smirk creeping to the side of his face. 

“Doesn’t bother me. I have a daughter of my own,”

“Oh,” you smiled, pushing your chair in as you fixed the paperwork around you. “Is she…?”

“She’s a little younger than you,” he said simply. “I make it a mission to practise what I preach at home,”

You smiled, and he smiled back, his skin wrinkling ever so slightly around his eyes and sides of his mouth. He was put together and certainly likeable; only driving you to want to help him out even more. you were quite comfortable, which was good as it was likely that the rest of the office, bar the receptionist and the interns, would file out over time, leaving you alone with him in your assigned wing.

“I suppose we should get started. First — Would you like a cup of coffee?”

/

“…In conclusion, I suggest you speak to this PR rep, he’s excellent,” you said, sliding a card across the table. “For now, our plan is to go ahead with the statement, and hold off on any retaliation,” you continued, making a few notes as you did. “Cooperate with the police, and let me handle things — But, if there’s anything I should know, it’s best you tell me…” you finished, looking up at him from across the table, your eyes meeting his own blue ones.

William smirked. His focus on the task had dwindled in and out over the past hour and a half, having watched the way you explained things with striking confidence, yet bit your pen childishly before writing things down. He couldn’t help but admire a woman with confidence, and it certainly helped that it wasn’t misplaced. You were good at your job. Perhaps too good.

He wondered how you’d ended up here. Young, attractive, yet closed off in a building with stuffy businessmen on a Friday night. You should’ve been at the club; dressed in your sluttiest attire, making out with random guys whilst you split Margaritas on yourself, eventually taking them back home and fucking their brains off. He wondered if you were the dominant or submissive type; if you liked to take charge and ride in cowgirl position, or into the classic missionary, arms above your head as you moan and whimper for more. You might’ve been good at your job, but it was impossible that you hadn’t fucked any of the seniors in the office during your time. 

More importantly, he wondered if you’d ever slept with your clients. After all, it wasn’t as if they were in his calibre; likely some shady businessmen who’d moved a few pots of money around, or middle-aged men moaning about real estate - none notable enough to ruin your reputation.

This was much different. Far different.

You didn’t know it, but you were face to face with a killer.

“Such as?” he hummed. Of course he knew what you meant, but he just wanted to hear you say it.

“…Anything that could damage your validity should there be a trial,” you said, sitting back in your seat. “Forged bank documents, hoarding evidence, an admission of guilt…”

“You think I had something to do with it?”

You paused, somewhat taken aback by how abrupt he was. Usually people reacted dramatically to accusations (especially ones as callous as this), and yet he was eerily calm, barely even flinching at the mention. It intrigued you, but more disturbingly it made you horny.

“I never said that,” you shrugged, trying to compose yourself. “But, if you did, it could change this situation entirely. Your wife, your daughter - the public - will look at you very differently,”

William chuckled, his leg beginning to bounce in excitement. The mention of his family was quite the mood killer, and yet you acknowledging them turned him on. They weren’t really any more than tools to look like a convincing family-friendly businessman, and yet you seemingly bought into it. In terms of the public, well, he had a big ego for sure, but his libido was bigger. Throbbing, even.

“And what about you?” He said, leaning in and placing his hands under his chin, grinning at the way you shifted under his gaze. It was time to turn the tables.

“Excuse me?” you choked, an uncomfortable feeling beginning to churn in your stomach. There was something in the way that he smiled at you, like he was getting some kind of satisfaction from making you squirm. Perhaps you’d been wrong about him. Perhaps there was something deeper. 

“Will you look at me any differently?” he insisted. You paused for a moment before shaking your head. 

“Absolutely not, Mr Afton. It’s my duty to be impartial,”

So prim and proper. It was time to blur the boundaries.

“Tch,” he scoffed before bursting into laughter. “Come on! That’s what they all say. It’s human nature to judge,”

You rolled your eyes, tossing your leg over the other as you began to drum your fingertips on your desk impatiently. This was usually the part where whoever you were talking to stopped to talk down to you. William could tell you were agitated, and he loved the way your brows were beginning to furrow and lips scrunch into a pout. He wondered how they tasted. Much more how they felt.

“It’s also human nature to feel discomfort when running over time,” you snapped, closing your files with haste. “This session is over, Mr Afton,”

So feisty. Repression had clearly done a number on you.

It was a blatant sign for him to move on, and yet he remained firmly in his seat, watching as you got up to put your files away, skirt slightly crumpled around your legs from how long you’d been sitting. You noticed this and pulled it down, turning to face the man yet again and leaning over the table, palms flat as you rested your hands on either side. 

You were rather close to him, and if anyone walked in it would seem sketchy. It didn’t help that he was quite handsome; with rugged yet refined features, a slowly greying goatee and bright eyes that were somewhat hidden by his large glasses. The longer that you stared at him, the more you felt weakened under his gaze.

“Can I help you, Mr Afton?”

“You can,” he said, and you raised a brow for him to continue. He felt his cock begin to harden and heart beat as he worked his way up to the moment. Yes, you were a lawyer, but the circumstances meant that you were game to react rather abruptly.

A killer and a lawyer in an empty wing, just after hours - doors shut with no one to hear a scream? It was the perfect scenario for a crime.

“I have something to declare…” he began, and he could barely contain his smile as you raised your brows, mouth slowly falling agape and body subtly recoiling. As if in a trance, you lowered your head further, the eye contact so intense that you could feel a tingle throughout each others’ bodies. You were 90% certain he could hear your heart pounding in your chest.

“…Go on,”

“I think you know what it is,” 

With a slow blink, as you tried to ground yourself. You could’ve vomited. In your eyes, murder was a grey area in the realm of self defence, but children were always off limits. 

He didn’t even seem to care. He seemed amused, actually. 

“O-Okay,” you whispered, swallowing a lump in your throat. “Thank you for telling me. I’ll have to revisit this with fresh eyes in the morning —“

You were so painfully uncomfortable, and yet part of you was aroused. Perhaps it was because you’d never encountered an actual killer, or it was because you were incredibly aware of the blatant fantasy being played out from both sides. He was a wolf; a hunter, bigger and stronger than you and waiting to ravish you like prey. 

You were dedicated to holding up the law, fighting for what was fair like a good girl, but sometimes good girls needed to be ravished.

“— What do you think, Miss L/N?” he teased, standing up to match you. “Am I a dead man?”

“No…” you whispered. “I’m going to do what I can…”

“Good,” he smiled, backing away from the desk, the outline of his bulge illuminated from the dimming lights. “That’s why I chose you,”

You gave an awkward nod, haphazardly rushing to hold the door open for him to leave. You held your head down as he passed, and squeezed your eyes shut as you realised he’d stopped in front of you. 

Your bodies were painfully close in the tiny doorway. William grinned, and he knew he had you from the moment you looked up at him through your lashes.

“…Are you going to kill me?”

“Not unless you want me to,”

Your lips were on each other in a heartbeat, your hands immediately finding the door and slamming it shut before focusing your attention on the killer at your feet. He wasted no time in effortlessly hoisting you up around his waist, his large hands firm on your hips and thighs as he held you steady, stumbling to find your desk. You returned the favour by holding onto his neck and beginning to grind yourself against his cock, your skirt riding up in the process.

“I bet you’re real happy I walked through those doors, aren’t you?” He teased. “How long have you been waiting for a fucked up guy like me, hmm?” he said, crudely sticking his fingers inside your panties as he placed you on the desk. He grunted at the sensation of your wet heat, hungry as he stuck a third finger inside without warning or hesitation. They were lithe and calloused, and seemed to hit your core immediately upon penetration, causing you to let out a moan. 

“I never –” you began, barely unable to form a sentence. “This is nothing —” you insisted, lips leaving his own as you began to fumble with his belt, cupping him through his pants. He was painfully hard. And big. Bigger than most guys your age. “— Just a formality,”

William scoffed, unable to hide his lascivious smile as he began pumping in and out of you, your lips swallowing him to just below his knuckles. Against the creaking of the desk and desperate pants you could hear the wet sound of your juices coating his fingers, sticky and copious as his motions continued; rough yet controlled. 

To think, they were the same hands that had murdered all those kids…

You’d taken out his cock now and was massaging the organ in your hands, causing him to hollow out his cheeks, sighing at the contact. It was over five inches, and considerably thick, with a long blue vein running along its underside. As you stroked him, a healthy secretion of precum coated your fingers, indirectly lubing him up further. His thrusts were lazy but needy as he fucked your hand, and with every movement you worked together to guide his cock to your entrance, his bulging tip teasing your folds.

“Fuck,” he whispered, throwing his head back. “You’re ready for me, aren’t you? Naughty girl, you know this goes against your ‘ethics’...” he teased again, and you could barely formulate an answer as his body was now almost completely on top of yours, your back arching as you stabilised yourself with your free hand on the desk.

He chuckled, reaching down to grip the base of his cock as he lined himself at your entrance. For a moment your hands touched, and the excessive hairs and slight wrinkles reminded you of just how much older he was.

“Fuck ethics,” you moaned, and his grin deepened, to the point he was baring teeth. You couldn’t take it anymore, and you were beginning to lose your grip on your panties as you held them to the side.

Next time he should just rip them off.

“William…” you moaned. “Please…”

“Since you asked so nicely,” he laughed, and thrust himself into you, rutting into you like a rabbit. To him the sensation was euphoric, it had been a long time since he’d fucked a fresh pussy, and admittedly his wife was getting rather stale. You were so tight and melded perfectly around him, but most of all you were eager, even if your morals were blatantly backwards. 

William’s cock filled you completely, repeatedly hitting the untouched crevices of your cunt that you hadn’t even known existed. He was big, skilled and oh-so painfully perfect - Perfectly bad for you. You could get disbarred, your public reputation ruined, much like the narrative of the man inside you - but with every thrust that drew deeper into your pussy and lustful kiss to your neck and lips none of it seemed to matter. His large hands cupped your sides, moving between your breasts and thighs as he groped and massaged; most importantly making sure that you remained spread wide and available for him as his clothed thighs hit against yours repeatedly. You were high; so high that you barely acknowledged the wedding ring on his left finger, even if you could feel it through the thin material of your blouse.

“You feel so fucking good,” he grunted. “I haven’t fucked a pussy like this in ages. You and I are gonna make such a good team — Ugh — I knew there was a reason I chose you…”

“Fuck…” you groaned. “W-William…”

“Does it bother you that I hurt those kids?” he snarled, beginning to feel his stomach knot up. 

You were too lost in your ecstasy to answer. 

Did it?

“…Tut, tut. You said you wouldn’t judge me, sweetheart,” he chided. “We were getting along so well…”

“We are. I’m gonna help you,” you said determinedly, eyes unable to shift from his own. You were close.

“I know you are,” he hummed, letting out an intermittent groan as he shut his eyes. “You have no choice. You’re just as guilty as me,”

There was something about those words that immediately sent you over the edge, squeezing your eyes shut and letting out a pornographic moan as you came, your body twinging as the man held your thighs apart, making sure you felt every inch of your shared ecstasy. William had barely found it in him to pull out on time, his heavy load painting a mess on your panties and thighs, but leaving a small trail of cum along the outer lips of your pussy, a subtle but telling reminder of what had happened.

Fixing your crumpled shirt and skirt, you adjusted yourself before hopping off of the desk, hands clasped in front of you. 

“So,” you said, clearing your throat. You were surprised it wasn’t sore from your incessant moans. “I’d like to see you at the same time tomorrow. We’ve got a lot of ground to cover.”

@yellowbunnydreams @lonelyaxolotl13

[ciaossu-imagines]

What are some of your favorite horror movies? And which ones you like to recommend to people?

Holy shit! This question makes me so happy but also so…wow, how do I organize this! How can I narrow them down…there’s just so many horror movies I definitely love and would recommend. The different sub-genres within horror and what’s the best to watch from those was considered, but that leaves out some solid horror movies that don’t fit into any particular sub-genre. So I kind of went chronologically, throughout the years…I might be wrong in some of these years, so please forgive me for that. I’ll also definitely have left off a lot of really good ones, so excuse the incompleteness of the list.

So, as mentioned on my other post, gotta start back in the roaring 20’s, when horror really kind of hit the mainstream, with 1922’s Nosferatu. It’s going to seem really boring if you go in expecting a gore-fest like what we get now, but I think it’s a really stand up film for it’s time, with a great atmosphere and feel to it.

All of the classic Universal monster film’s from the 30’s should be checked out. They’re classics for a reason and the horror genre really owes a lot to these early films.

As far as I know, the original that came out then is impossible to find, but you can find versions of 1932’s Freaks and it’s definitely worth checking out. That movie kind of fucked me up, though a lot of the horror in it was the mass exploitation of people who dared to differ from the norm.

As far as I know, the 30’s version of Sweeney Todd was the first time it was on film? Definitely worth checking out, comparing and contrasting to the Johnny Depp version of it. Both are decent in their own ways (though, of course, the stage renditions are the best).

To me, Son of Frankenstein, while considered a horror at the time, was the first horror comedy. At least, I very much have that feel watching it.

While there were a lot of 40’s horror films, the only one I still remember and enjoy is the Abbott and Costello film I recommended in the previous post.

In my opinion, the 50’s had a lot of really great horror films. Watching them now, they do feel campy and kind of B-grade, but I really do think that is part of the appeal to them and it’s also fun to see some of the tropes in horror that are still used to this day. So from that era, I recommend Donovan’s Brain, I Was a Teenage Werewolf, Attack of the 50 Foot Woman, anything with Vincent Price, and Teenagers from Outer Space.

1960 brought us Psycho. Any horror fan should check out Psycho – I consider it a classic and a must watch. I also think that might have been the year The Little Shop of Horrors first came out on film. The original wasn’t bad, though I recommend the later version with Rick Moranis. It had a really great feel to it and was a little more fun than the original.

From the rest of the 60’s…oh, you guys know this one was going to be on here. Rosemary’s Baby, natch. Night of the Living Dead is also one that was obviously going to show up on this list because again – should be considered must-watch for any horror movie lover. Romero and horror – goes hand in hand and especially in terms of zombie tropes…it set up a lot of those. For a surprise from the 60’s though, I do recommend Blood and Black Lace.

The 70’s were great for horror. I definitely recommend the 70’s Wicker Man. If you start to watch Wicker Man and you see Nicolas Cage….press back or do whatever you need to do to turn it off. Then go watch the Wicker Man without Nicolas Cage. You will thank me for that tidbit of advice. Tales from the Crypt, The Exorcist, Jaws, Alien, the OG Carrie, The Omen, the OG The Hills Have Eyes, the OG Suspiria, Dawn of the Dead, I Spit on Your Grave, Invasion of the Body Snatchers, Black Christmas, and The Amityville Horror were all fantastic movies from that decade. Plus, the Halloween and Texas Chainsaw Massacre franchises started in this decade and I really recommend those franchises as a whole. Did both of them have some terrible sequels/prequels/remakes? Oh boy, did they! But overall, the franchises are solid. Young Frankenstein is a solid horror comedy and while technically a miniseries, Salem’s Lot from that time is still something I rewatch at least every year or two.

The 80’s brought Freddy fucking Krueger and boy, do I recommend watching the Nightmare On Elm Street franchise. The Chucky franchise also started at that time and I love the really kind of campy, horror comedy feel to that franchise, with some genuinely scary scenes. The Evil Dead is a classic for a reason and definitely a must watch. Just watch every movie in the franchise because at the worst, they’re hilarious, at their best they’re so, so GOOD. Pretty sure Poltergeist is also from the 80’s but if I’m wrong, it’s late 70’s. I love The Lost Boys, at least the original one.  Motel Hell was weird as fuck but pretty decent horror comedy? My favourite horror comedy from the 80’s though has to be April Fool’s Day – definitely one I recommend everyone see at least once. Fright Night from the 80’s was also really good and I actually also enjoy the remake with Colin Farrell. The 80’s also brought a lot of Stephen King adaptions and where I love his writing, I watched a lot of them – Christine, Cujo, Silver Bullet,  Children of the Corn (the OG one is my favourite, though the remake wasn’t absolutely fucking horrific), Pet Sematary, Creepshow…notice The Shining is missing? It’s because I actually don’t really like the movie. I found the book more genuinely scary. One that does have to be mentioned but which I will personally NEVER watch again – Cannibal Holocaust. Don’t eat going into it and be aware that it gets very, VERY violent. If you consider Gremlins a horror movie, it’s on there. I just say it’s a classic Christmas movie you should definitely check out around the season. I watch it every Christmas season.

From the 90’s, starting with a miniseries but the version of IT that still scares me the most? The 90’s miniseries with Tim Curry. It will legit make me cry but that’s because clowns freak me out royally.  But legit, the 90’s and the 00’s was the era I really was just getting into horror, so I struggle to figure out what is me viewing it with a lot of nostalgia and love and what is actually good so I’m going bullet points for these decades:

Se7en – even non-horror fans know THAT scene from this movie, let’s be real, and I think that  makes it have to be on this list.

Village of the Damned

From Dusk Till Dawn

The first Scream came out this decade, as did a couple of the others, but please watch all the franchise except the newest ones. I watched them, not as great as the original run but 1-4…fucking amazing and probably my favourite horror franchise personally.

I Know What You Did Last Summer

The first Blade movie came out in this decade, but I recommend all three.

The Faculty

Urban Legend

House on Haunted Hill

The Sixth Sense really did have an amazing twist, though it looks cheap and played out rewatching or looking back on it. For the time period though – it was an amazing twist.

Sleepy Hollow

American Psycho

Final Destination. Any of the movies in the franchise kind of give me the happy but the first one is probably the best.

Jeeper’s Creepers

Misery

The Leprechan franchise is great horror comedy. I love Warwick Davis.

I recommend the Buffy the Vampire Slayer movie, only because it led to the show and the show was so, so precious to me.

The Silence of the Lambs, naturally.

Candyman, also naturally.

The Frighteners was a fun horror comedy. I just like seeing bad things happen to Michael J. Fox

Sometimes They Come Back

Cube

Cannibal! The Musical is frigging fantastic and a great black comedy

The Craft

Idle Hands is frigging amazing as well for horror comedy.

From the 2000’s:

Ginger Snaps

Thirteen Ghosts

Valentine

28 Days Later

Cabin Fever

Resident Evil as a franchise is hit or miss, but I like the original

The Ring

Wrong Turn

The Grudge

The Saw franchise

Hostel

House of 1000 Corpses and the follow up movies to it

Shaun of the Dead

House of Wax, just for being able to see Paris Hilton die

When a Stranger Calls

1408 (have an odd crush on John Cusack)

30 Days of Night

The Mist

Dead Silence

Repo! The Genetic Opera

Coraline

Zombieland

Cabin in the Woods is from around that time and still one of the best meta-horror comedies I’ve ever seen.

[rpdepartment]

Hope it's not too complicated an ask, but do you have any pointers or advice n how to make a promo post? Like, what stuff i should put in the description and such?

hmm, nice question actually! mostly because i think promos are very personal from one person to another personally, i think that the promo must be concise, explain exactly what the blog is about, give a name to both mun and muse and have a few links uvu generally, i'm way more open to blogs that have this in their promo:

if they have the name of the muse and from what series/movie/game theyre from and the mun • if they're fandomless, I give a short explaination of what kind of settings i generally play them as ( modern fantasy / toon-inspired / sci-fi... ), or if they have specific verses ( generally writing three-four of them and then adding a fancy AND MORE, especially if you likely plan to add more in the future ) • if you have a multimuse, try to write as many fandoms included as possible!

if it's a sideblog, add somewhere the name of the main blog you're following with

i highly suggest to add your selectivity too; what i do is usually say that my blogs are 18+ only ( both bc i write stuff not suited for minors and because im way closer to my 30s than my 20s and i personally feel a little awkward playing with anyone under 18 ), that i'm open for OCs and crossovers and that i'm generally open with playing with non-mutuals; if you're mutuals-only and highly selective, let everyone know!!

also highly suggest having links to the rules and the about/muses page! i tend to also add the links to the credits page if i use others' art for icons or if i used a promo template for the graphics and a link to the tag dumps

i'd suggest to leave any long description or special rules to a separate, unrebloggable pinned post!!

[asparklethatisblue]

actually fuck it, here’s the discworld books I’ve already read and my thoughts.

1. The Colour of Magic

It’s alright, funny but not as captivating as some of the others. I remember watching the movie as a kid without knowing what it was

2. The Light Fantastic

Liked it much more than Colour of Magic, there’s just something... more creative about it? Also baby turtles

3. Equal Rites

Fun! First Granny appearance, and I like the attempt at witch vs wizard as something distinct

4. Mort

I really liked it! I mean, who doesn’t love Death? The gender stuff is annoying, and I did notice that he writes straight couples in a more miss than hit way early on 

5. Sourcery

I do enjoy the Ricewind books. The weird stuff with the side characters going on in the background is always... eh? I love the theme of expectations parents put on you, and having to follow them despite hating it so much. Not sure if it worked perfectly all the time, but good book.

6. Wyrd Sisters

Fun! Loved it, I love Granny, and I like the plot as well, and how they solve stuff

7. Pyramids

8. Guards! Guards!

Ya. Vimes my love

9. Faust Eric ( did read this but don’t remember anything besides ONE joke, I don’t even know if I finished it)

10. Moving Pictures

11. Reaper Man

I loved it, I adored it. The quiet peace and sadness of it all... The quiet horror of being immortal and not wanting to be. I didn’t quite get all of the jokes I think, especially with the glass balls, but still so good.

12. Witches Abroad

GOOD. I really enjoyed the subversion of themes in fairy tales, and happiness vs being happy and also Granny being extremly willing to do horrid things to help people, or not to avert her eyes. I loved the New Orleans style and the magic and the gators. Good shit.

13. Small Gods

Struggled to put it down as I read it, I think I accidentally stayed awake till 2am finishing this, really good, made me feel things.

14. Lords and Ladies

AH. Very good. Delightfully creepy, I love the “Elves Suck” agenda. Genuinely scary. I believe Pratchett maybe wrote. Two. good hetero couples. All the others suck.

15. Men at Arms

I swear to god more miss than hit with the straights...

16. Soul Music

17. Interesting times

18. Maskerade

Good, when you get over the constant shit with Agnes and the fatphobe. Like? Was that???? NEEDED??? least favourite Witches Book.

19. Feet of Clay

I tried reading it years ago and my ADHD was too unmedicated and I didn’t know what was happening. Trans Dwarves! Golems in an actual respectful way? You know they’re a Jewish thing, yeah? Well this felt... right.

20. Hogfather

21. Jingo

Really good between the “Oh god is he gonna be weird...?” worries at the first readthrough. Man. I love how annoyed TP is by politics like this

22. The Last Continent

23. Carpe Jugulum

Sickass. I loved it.

24. The Fifth Elephant

I actually don’t remeber it as much for some reason? But I loved it!! The Dwarves! The Werwolves!!! AH! Vimes in trouble!

25. The Truth

Really good! I love the “Invention” books, they’re really fun, and I love Otto, I love the murder mystery and the commentary on people reacting to news, and what people care about or no.

26. Thief of Time

27. The Last Hero

28. The Amazing Maurice And His Educated Rodents

29. Night Watch

Maybe my second favourite? Man....

30. The Wee Free Men

31. Monstrous Regiment

I have it on audiobook, I must have relistened to it like... 5 times last year. It was the first Discworld book I read and I adore it deeply.

32. A Hat Full of Sky

33. Going Postal

How dare you make me care about a man named Moist von Lipwig??? He is exactly the character archtype I go bonkers for

34. Thud!

YEAH BOY

35. Wintersmith

36. Making Money

same as for going postal. ADHD king...

37. Unseen Academicals

38. I Shall Wear Midnight

39. Snuff

I actually wasn’t sure at the first half of it, like... before the goblin plot kicks in, it felt kind of like making fun of something that isn’t relevant within the industrial setting of the Disc, so is double irrelevant now. But then it becomes amazing once the real plot starts.

40. Raising Steam

Good and fun but something is off and idk what

41. The Shepherd's Crown

[asmallexperiment]

Lance Reddick: 1962-2023

I get that we call everyone who isn't maybe one of the 20 or 30 most famous actors on the planet a "character actor," and he was that--it would not be entirely unfair to describe him as "a character actor who played a lot of cops." But...Lance Reddick was just amazingly talented and seemed from the outside to be one of the good guys.

In saying "a character actor who played a lot of cops," it, to say the least, doesn't capture the whole of it. The Wire is my favorite television show and so I guess I would say he's best known as Daniels, who was mostly a man of few words, at least until more were necessary. I'm sure there is one, but I don't know that I've ever seen an actor play the mannerisms of a fictional character so far forward. And, while that sounds like an awful thing, the way Reddick did it was nothing short of brilliant.

But your frame of reference, given his career, could be entirely different. If you're a gamer, maybe you think of him more as Sylens or Commander Zavala. Both Bosch and Fringe share with The Wire the phenomenon of being underappreciated, at least in their own time (The Wire, obviously, has evolved into a thing, culturally, that it wasn't in its time). He also had that period where he spun on that reputation a little and did a bunch of comedic bits, including a legendary appearance on Eric Andre. And he did play a bunch of other cops, with appearances on L&O, CSI: Miami, Numb3rs...I think it must have been Oz where I first became aware of him, though he was also a cop in the episode In Excelsis Deo from The West Wing, which was, at least for a moment or two, regarded as one of the best hours of drama in television history (it's still very good, though I know some people think the show hasn't aged well and a lot of the people who are still on board would probably now go for Two Cathedrals, which came a couple years later).

And, of course, he's been a persistent presence in the John Wick movies. Just reading this bit from his interview with Vulture makes me like him and Keanu more than I probably should:

Speaking of Keanu, can you give us some insight into his personality?  I’m a journeyman character actor. And whenever I work with a big movie star for the first time, I keep my guard up to protect my work from an ego. And if there’s any big movie star who’s not that person, it’s Keanu. I remember my first scene that I shot with him — it’s the first scene you see us together in the first movie — he was struggling with the timing. I said, “Keanu do you want to do XYZ?” I don’t even remember what it was. And he kind of smiled and said, “No man, you just do your thing.” My experience with him after that continues to be one with someone who’s very generous as an actor and then all about the work. He’s also very shy. This is going to sound really weird, but — he seems simple, but spiritually he’s very advanced.

That makes perfect sense, actually.  He’s incredibly deep and insightful and thoughtful. But watching him in social situations, he can be like, “I can only take so much input from other people so don’t bother me.” Which is fine. He’s very shrewd. On one hand I feel like I don’t know him very well but on the other, I just adore that guy. He’s such a wonderful human being.

How has your friendship changed after four movies? We’ve gotten to know each other a little better. I hope I don’t get in trouble for telling this story: During John Wick: Chapter Four, my first day of filming happened to be Keanu’s birthday. But he wasn’t in the scene. He came to the set anyway at nine o’clock at night with his girlfriend who I had never met. And she is … can I say a bad word?

Go for it.  His girlfriend is cool as fuck. And she told me that she asked Keanu what he wanted to do for his birthday and he said, “I want to go see Lance.” He’d never done this before but he wrote me a note thanking me for what I brought to the character in these movies. And he wanted to give the note to me. I’ll never forget it. I’m going to cry now.

Even just opening Netflix last night, it was readily apparent that I wasn't the only one who wanted to go back and watch the man's work--I ended up opting for the first couple episodes of The Wire. So, to return to where I started, I understand that Reddick isn't Keanu-famous, but in the little world of my mind and the media I have liked over the years, his place in it is prominent enough to be that kind of superstar for me.

[loonysama]

The Refugees

Chapters: 11/20

Fandom: Frozen (Disney Movies), Tangled (2010)

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage

Relationships: Anna/Kristoff, Anna/Hans, Kristoff & Sven, Anna & Rapunzel, Eugene Fitzherbert | Flynn Rider/Rapunzel

Characters: Anna, Kristoff, Agnarr, Hans, Rapunzel, Sven, Oaken, Eugene Fitzherbert | Flynn Rider, Olaf, Gothel, Stabbington Brothers, Bulda

Tags: Angst, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - High School, True Love, Northuldra (Disney), Genocide, Bigotry & Prejudice, Discrimination, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Shame, Survivor Guilt, Friendship, Cousins, Trust Issues, Love Triangles, Childhood Trauma, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, Sexual Abuse, Bullying, references to murder, Gunshot Wounds, Gore, War Crimes

Series: Part 1 of The Refugees

Summary: Kristoff, a refugee of the Northuldran genocide, and Anna, an Arendellian immigrant with a hole in her heart, fall in love and have a complicated and intense relationship.

🌩️🌩️🌩️

“Purple,” said one little girl, and Anna handed her a purple toothbrush.

“Green,” said the girl’s brother.

“Welcome to Corona,” Anna replied in Arendellian as she handed them the toothbrushes and little tubes of toothpaste.

“Carrots,” said the boy - man - standing behind them.  Anna didn’t understand.

“Carrots,” he said again, in Arendellian.  He couldn’t be more than a couple years older than Anna, who was 16, but he looked 30.  She didn’t know how to respond to his request since she didn’t have any food to hand out, only toiletries.  The man looked like he had walked all 500 miles from Arendelle to get there, and he probably had.  She couldn’t even begin to imagine the horrors he must have encountered just so he could stand in front of her to ask for carrots.

“I want carrots,” he said again in broken Arendellian as he pointed to the toothbrush.  It suddenly occurred to Anna that the word for the color orange in Northuldran is the same as the word for carrot.  He had a Northuldran accent, but it was hard to pick it up in just two syllables, and he was wearing Arendellian clothing.  “I said carrots.”

“Oh.  Sorry.” She handed him the orange toothbrush and he practically ripped it out of her hand.  He offered her a haughty look as he moved on to the next station.

Anna felt horrible about the scenario.  She hadn’t meant to make him feel bad about how he spoke.  It was clear to Anna that he couldn’t speak Coronan at all, which wasn’t unusual because most of the Arendellians couldn’t.  What was more unusual was that he spoke Arendellian only slightly better.  However harrowing Anna thought the journey to get to Corona from Arendelle was, she now had to quadruple for that boy - man - knowing he came all the way from the Northern Mountains.  Anna guessed that out of the 2,000 or so refugees in the encampment, this man was the only Northuldran. She could easily forgive his rudeness considering the circumstances.

“Ok, let’s get everything shut down for the evening and load up the trucks.  Good work today.”  Agnarr rested his arm on his daughter’s shoulders just briefly and Anna noticed the Northuldran turn his head when she looked in his direction.  She couldn’t be sure if he was looking at her or if it was a coincidence.

After packing up all the boxes and folding the tables so they could be loaded onto the trucks to return the next weekend, Anna glanced once more at the Northuldran guy before climbing into her dad’s car.  He was laying down with his legs outside of the tent, humming an interesting tune that seemed familiar but Anna didn’t think she had heard it before.

He must be exhausted.

“Anna?”

“Coming, Papa.”

Read from the beginning at AO3.

🌻🌻🌻

Carrots

Peace and Quiet

Too Much

New Year, New Moon

Prisms

Risk

Rainbow

Temple

Are We?

Just Friends

Starlight

Grapes [coming soon!]

[gchoate17]

I watched 25 movies in 2023 – down from 30 last year. Here they are, ranked in order. 

Cherry

Fantastic story, well told. It covered a lot of ground in a short time and made me believe everything. Despite the bad decision, I never stopped pulling for him. Tom Holland crushed it.

2. Tetris

I love these stories that pull the curtain back on pop culture phenomena. An enthralling sprint from start to finish.

3. I, Tonya

Nice job of showing the other side of the story. I felt some empathy for “the monster.” Also, I wasn’t expecting to laugh, but I laughed multiple times.

4. Dune (2021)

It’s always impressive when someone creates a new world that seems to add up. The story is set, now show me the sequel.

5. White Noise

Intellectual and quirky, but ridiculous, in a good way. But it also feels a little too unhinged. Adam Driver crushes it.

6. The Beanie Bubble

Zach Galifinakis’s best performance? Enough of a true story to give me the satisfaction of learning something while also pointing to the ridiculous nature of American capitalism in the 1990s.

7. On the Rocks

Bill Murray and his character carry it.

8. Barbie

Stylistically, really fun. Concept, fantastic. Kate McKinnon and Michael Cera’s characters are the best part of the movie. It was also nice to see so many actors from Sex Education. Of course, Margot Robbie and Ryan Gosling were fantastic as well. Overall, the was good, but it certainly didn’t measure up to the hype (and how could it). My only real complaint comes with when they have all been enlightened and they name all of the problems with society, which is a little too on the nose for me. We got it without being told.

9. Narvik

I’ve been into Dutch things lately, and I always like a new perspective on World War II, but I wouldn’t say this one is a can’t-miss.

10. Seven Kings Must Die

SPOILER ALERT: I feel like I couldn't get into the movie because legitimately the only person I was pulling for at the end was Uhtred. King Athelstan was a dumbass who deserved to die. All the kings who got duped into allying with the evil Dane guy made the move I would have made. Moral of the story: War is terrible. But that final shot of the Great Hall was awesome.

11. Parasite

Kind of funny. A little too far-fetched.

12. This is Where I Leave You

Weak story, great actors.

13. Air

I know why they did it, but it was a mistake to make a movie about Air Jordans without Michael Jordan.

14. Blood & Gold

I couldn’t buy that what happened in that small town didn’t alert larger authorities. In that way, it was a lot like Three Kings, but less humorous.

15. Those People

I am writing this review months after I watched the movie and even after watching the trailer, I have no recollection of ever seeing this movie, but in my notes I gave it three stars, so I’m putting it at the end of my three-star movies for the year.

16. Everything Everywhere All at Once

Loved the first half-ish, and the acting was great, but – as is with most action mind-benders – when anything can happen because the filmmakers aren’t bound by the rules of reality, it felt completely out of control by the end.

17. The Covenant

Movies that pretend like you can move about freely in war are out of touch with reality. But I do love a battle-buddy flick.

18. Raymond & Ray

A little absurd, but Ethan Hawke and Ewan McGregor are always likable.

19. To Leslie

Predictable addiction story. Bad Southern accents.

20. Midsommar

A horror film, but replace the dark aesthetic with light. Immature characters who ignore all the red flags.

21. The Wonder

SPOILER ALERT: Eerie and intriguing, but my investment diminished once the jig was up. I don’t buy that a devout little girl like that would just walk away.

22. Greyhound

SPOILER ALERT: Decent action sequences at sea, but not enough background for any of it to really mean anything. Elizabeth Shue needed to come back, for sure. Otherwise, why have her play the role?

23. Dead for a Dollar

I’m a Christoph Waltz fan, but this one was full of melodrama.

24. The Incident (1967)

None of the characters do what they should and there was no payoff. I did enjoy seeing those actors in the early stages of their career, though.

25. The Menu

I want to know how Ralph Fiennes, Anya Taylor-Joy, Nicholas Hoult, and John Leguizamo got trapped in this stupid-ass movie.

See previous years’ lists here: 2022, 2021, 2020, 2019, 2018, 2017.

[kinetic-elaboration]

April 30: All the Old Knives

Tonight's movie was All the Old Knives. I... had sort of mixed feelings but I did like the ending a lot and since the ending was the last thing I saw, that's sort of coloring my impression of the movie as a whole.

My main thought through a lot of it was that it was very stylish, but I was having a hard time connecting with or caring about the characters. That made even the stakes, which were described pretty well and placed very high, seem lower and less interesting.

Even then, though, I wasn't bored and I didn't feel like the movie dragged. The only part where I wanted it to go faster was at the end, which was also my favorite part, and that was only because I was impatient to find out what was happening and what the final twist(s) were.

I figured pretty early, like even before I started watching, that Henry was the real mole because, honestly, duh. This is just, like, how you craft a story? It's a spy story so there must be a misdirect, and what you're led to believe is that it must be Celia. So it cannot be Celia. There are almost no other characters and most of the characters who do exist would be supremely unsatisfying twist-villains so--it's Henry. The only way it could be Celia is if there's a double-twist or double-misdirect and I was sort of expecting that at one point.

Ultimately, the actual twist was very satisfying, and I really did enjoy the last 20 minutes of the film. I know this genre at least some and I was really looking forward to the inevitable 'here is the whole story again with more information, revealing a completely different narrative' and that section did NOT disappoint. I especially liked the explanation of the recurring image of the blue ceiling.

Stylistically, the movie was very beautiful, and the puzzle-piece nature of the smooth cuts to the past and future and the recurring images and so on was extremely well done.

The spycraft stuff reminded me of my recent TTSS re-read/re-watch, so it was fun to get some more context into how some of this stuff works and also just... to get another example of it, even if this was a much simpler mole-story than TTSS. I did like that Henry's story was basically the opposite of Bill's: Bill betrayed his lover for some loose conception of his ideals, while Henry betrayed his ideals, and in fact directly caused harm to a lot of people, because he cared about his lover more than anyone else. And he did that in part because he'd already learned that caring too much about too many people would only cause himself harm, that he'd be asked even officially to treat human beings as something to be used. So he had to put all his loyalty in one person, and he did. You might think that being forced to betray Ilyas would turn him into a mole, out of anger or betrayal, but instead, that pivotal moment did create his motivation but in a completely different way.

I mean the EMOTION of all that, of those kind of trade offs and sacrifices, is really the heart of the spy narrative and I thought this was well done, when it got to that.

Before the last 20 minutes I was having a semi-hard time finding motivations or potential motivations though... That was another reason I figured it had to be Henry, because he had the only thing approaching a reason to betray the Circus Station: his history with Ilyas.

I liked the dream sequences with Celia imagining herself on the plane, because that could conceivably be read as her guilt, and in a sense it WAS (she didn't turn Henry in), but it's also her fear and her sorrow. It was also a good way to weave in how important it is that she has a family while most of the limited present-day events take place away from that family.

Hmmm, what else? The sets were very beautiful. I enjoyed CPine's 2012 long-hair-and-sweater look a lot. The sex was almost awkwardly hot.

I did not like the use of a cover of Love Song for the credits. Should have used the actual, superior, Love Song.

But other than that, the movie really did pick up a lot at the end, where the stakes suddenly seemed very high, and so was the uncertainty, and the characters became, at the last minute, people I cared about, at least some. I liked Celia as the spy pulled in for one last job. I liked the sadly quiet way it wound down. I liked the moral ambiguity. It left a good taste overall based largely on the ending, but the whole thing was stylish and slick, and its run time was not too long so I stayed invested through the whole thing.

Enjoyable Sunday night watching.

[twenytwenytwo]

Dec 11 2022 (6:08pm)

Okay, so the past couple days during my little anxious swell I’ve reeeeaallly missed Izzy in a particularly gripping way. The feeling is new. I genuinely miss her, like in such a classical way. A way I’m not sure if I’ve ever felt in my life.

My feelings have become more confusing basically. I’ve forgotten about the frustration, and all the endless fighting, annoying things, and am now left with what I like about Izzy. Us just being tight, togetherness, company. I guess I’m quite literally not used to being this solo in this current phase of my life. Yeah, at many other times, it’s been my default state, but I’ve accumulated habits that are not that.

Yeah so, it’s rather intense. I go there to see her. I get emotional. Again, going over there is not wise. I have to learn tho lol. I hug her and it feels so good, I think of cuddling up together and watching a movie, the thought eases me. The familiarity of everyone, everything there… I feel what I am no longer in the company of.

Izabel says she doesn’t want to have another relationship in that house. I don’t blame her, and couldn’t agree more. It was a bit odd, and surely didn’t help things along, at least in the way that she did not feel in the right place.

Part of me wants to get back together, go back to normal, but the smart part of me knows that’s exactly what I don’t want. I don’t want to go back to what our normal was. It was not harmonious. It was stressful and draining and uninspiring. It was not bringing us joy and fulfillment.

It’s tough. I feel very disoriented. I’m here at my house. It’s a somewhat confusing setting. It feels foreign. I understand I shouldn’t be too weirded out. I’m just creating a new relationship with it, my room and I have some catching up to do. Not to mention, my own personal relationship with what my room is. I shared a room with Izzy for so many nights, it’s kinda weird being in my room, and having so much head space.

My mom says I should just enjoy the ride. She says I’m putting too much pressure on myself to figure it out. I think she’s right. I want to feel like I have it figured out though, even if it’s stupid, y’know? That youthful arrogance, thinking you know it all. I want the feeling of having figured it out.

Let’s figure it out right now. I know I’ll have a house, live somewhere, and I want it to be quaint, peaceful, cozy, full of love and life. That means I’ll need good money, and thus a good job. I’m working on that right now, and it should be great. I really need to lean into how great the world of video production will be for me.

I want kids, but only when I’m confident I can care for them very well. I’m quite sure I don’t want kids in my 20’s. Between 30-35 seems like a reasonable window, depending on how lucky I get, etc. This window is acknowledgedly clique, it’s hardly original.

So I need to work hard, build my value up, and enjoy myself. There are folks out there snortin coke every weekend, absolute debauchery, I needn’t feel prissy about leaning into my youth a little. Go out, have fun. Serious. This is something you must get out of your system.

Play fucking music. You’re so fucking talented man, seriously, you’re really really gifted. Such an amazing artist, you would make teenage Adrian so amazingly proud. Teenage Adrian would also tell you to loosen the fuck up! This is exactly what he was worried about, getting too tangled up in bullshit and not believing in yourself! Do him another solid and take a breath. Do something for pleasure.

Work on your video business. It’s going to ensure you don’t have to sell your fucking amps or some fucked up shit. Seriously imagine that! That’s what it’s about. You already know that life can be wack and that it doesn’t give a shit about what you want. Cover your ass, and enjoy doing it.

Fix your friendships. You’ve learned many lessons that you had to learn. No way out of em. You’ve got to make mistakes. Now fix em up, and never give up. Don’t be so hard on your friends, and paranoid they don’t like you or something. Remember when you had times you were aloof? Busy with other things? They have complex lives too, ones you can’t even understand. Have faith in them.

Take it easy. Relax. Enjoy. Quit complicating shit, yeah life’s proving weird and your nature is one that likes certainty, friends, girlfriends, feeling like a big mofo, all of which are in flux.

So there we go. You’re 25. Work on your career path so you don’t have to bitch about money. Play music and don’t give so many fucking shits about your none lost idealistic fantasy of a jerkfest your rockband is suppose to be. Honour the craft, fuck the rest.

Oh and, for now, yeah, you’re gonna be working some part time job. That is the price you paid for being a rockstar and not getting some other job. Remember that and deal with, don’t be a spoiled cunt. Milk it. You’re gonna be raking in dough soon enough, and you’ll remember the days when you worked some stupid, meaningless job and be jealous.

Nothing matters right now, don’t hesitate during decisions, just do whatever, all roads lead to Rome. What? I dunno. Just be cool.

[beesmygod]

i had the most unbelievably frustrating conversation the other day over the complete failure of modern criticism to recognize the most basic forms of misogyny, especially in mainstream media, and how the inability to recognize these things was leading to a death in entertainment for young women that wasn’t regressive or insulting to their capabilities. the attempt to rehabilitate “twilight”, a novel in which the protagonist (who i am told has no personality or interests, outside of getting attention to boys, on purpose in order to act as a proxy for the reader) must choose between her family, her future, her dreams, her wants, and her desires or what her boyfriend wants, is an example.

“lore olympus” has drifted significantly from its original central contrived plot revolving around persephone maintaining her virginity (?!) so she can keep her college scholarship, but the original concept appeared to offer the female readership a choice: either stay in school or become the 19 year old object of sexual obsession of a man nearly 3x your age, which is good, because he will take care of you. the protagonist is a waifish, weak, emotional, perpetual victim of the world around her who needs men to com rescue her from even the mildest of situations.

inexplicable cult classic “jupiter ascending” revolves entirely around who she should marry. she does absolutely nothing in the entire movie except get shuffled from set piece to set piece as she must choose whether to marry the heterosexual buff dog man or the effeminate villain. tbh all of these properties are very similar to me in my head; they fail basic sniff tests but are gobbled up by masses who, i had thought, were more capable of discerning these concepts.

the inability to escape properties with these elements contributed significantly to my downward spiral as i became a teen/adult. there was a dawning horror that the number of avenues for success on my own were being deliberately made unavailable to me in order to keep an entire half of the population indebted to the other. that the expectation was not that i would get a job out of school, take care of myself, maybe meet someone along the way, maybe have a kid if it works out. i was supposed to get a degree, as a joke i guess or just to waste my time since i wasn’t REALLY supposed to get a real job, and then immediately i would be used as childcare/a live in maid because my interests were secondary to those of the man i was expected to marry (im also bi so that added another fun twist to it lol). my 20s and 30s were supposed to be used on children and taking care of my husband. this realization made it feel like i was trapped in a box that shrunk and shrunk and threatened to crush me under the pressure from all sides to be something i couldnt even comprehend people wanted to be.

pointing out the existence and proliferation of what, to me, are extremely basic concepts to reject as a feminist, causes people to launch into a type of defense that feels like it comes from another planet. accusations of puritanism, censorship, being the actual misogynist, etc. i dont know how to explain to people that pointing these things out, LIKE I AM DOING IN THIS POST LIKE THIS LEVEL OF DISCUSSION, is not a call for it to be banned or removed or changed or whatever. the purpose of bad art is to discuss it and learn from it. we’re supposed to dissect it and why it came into existence, not stomp out anything that isn’t flawlessly progressive.

if i didnt have anything to complain about i’d get bored lol. how is a critic supposed to criticize without criticism, you know.

[yourboyfriendsbodyguard]

Do you listen to music while you draw or write for peter and y/n?

If yes, can you reccomend music? I wanna know if I can make a playlist! Thanxxs!!! ❤

Yup! I feel like music is a MUST for most artist lol

Although I do sometimes listen to murder mysteries, let's not meet reddit stories, and Deadly Love stories on youtube while I draw Peter and y/n. But that's what helps set the mood lol

So! Here's my list! I'll be updating whenever I find a new song!

HunnySenpaii's Your Boyfriend Playlist!

1. An Unhealthy Obsession by The Blake Robinson Synthetic Orchestra

2. Won't Bite by Doja Cat Ft. Smino

3. Super Psycho Love by Simon Curtis

4. I Want Your Bite by Chris Crocker

5. Voodoo by Ghost Town

6. I Wanna Be Your Slave by Måneskin

7. Obsessed With You by The Orion Experience

8. All The Things She Said by t.A.T.u.

9. Every Breath You Take by Chase Holfelder

10. Yandere by Jazmin Bean

11. Hopelessly Devoted To You (Glee cast) Cover from the movie GREASE

12. Hate Me by Nico Collins

13. Love Taste by Shiki and Jamie Paige

14. Stalker's Tango by Autoheart

15. Teeth by 5 Seconds of Summer

16. Somebody's Watching Me by Rockwell

17. Paparazzi by Lady Gaga

18. They're Coming To Take Me Away by Neuroticfish

19. Monster by Lady Gaga

20. Flesh by Simon Curtis

21. Diablo by Simon Curtis

22. Sexting by Blood on the Dance Floor

23. SIMP by lil Mariko and Rico Nasty

24. E-Girls Are Ruining My Life by Corpse, ft. Savage Ga$p aka the choke me like you hate me, but you love me

25. Dirty Mind! by 3OH!

26. One Way Or Another by Blondie

27. Bad Romance by Lady Gaga

28. Freak by Doja Cat

29. Woman Doja Cat

30. Stay by The Kid LAROI, Justin Bieber

[sabinanotfound]

45 Prompts for Hand-Holding

I stumbled across this post and I had to do it. Enjoy... (also it’s the best experience when you switch to the goth rave mode)

45 prompts (actually 42 since I skipped the 12th and the 13th one because I wasn’t comfortable and the 26th one, because I had 0 ideas) and all are SFW.

Includes; Wilbur Soot, cc!Technoblade, GeorgeNotFound, Nihachu, Karl Jacobs, platonic!Ranboo, Dream, SapNap, Quackity (separately)

Warnings: specified before each prompt <3 credit to @creativepromptsforwriting for the amazing prompts

REQUESTS OPEN

1. Tiny hands in big hands (Wilbur Soot x gn!reader)

Wilbur was absentmindedly fiddling with your hand as the bus made its way through the traffic. “Your hands are so tiny,” he said, making you chuckle. You interlocked your fingers with his, leaning your head onto his shoulder.

2. Calloused hands in soft hands (cc!Technoblade x gn!reader) TW || anxiety

“It’s okay, you’re with me now,” you said softly, trying to calm Techno down. You took his calloused hands in yours, letting him relax and fall asleep in your embrace.

3. Cold hands in warm hands (GeorgeNotFound x gn!reader)

“Oh, and we should definitely see this place!” George exclaimed. For the past few hours he was excitedly showing you around London, but there was only one problem; the cold. When you didn’t respond, George turned to you and immediately noticed you shivering. He laughed softly before taking your cold hands in his warm ones. Let’s say, this method of warming up was your favorite.

4. Hands for the perfect ratio to each other for hand-holding (Nihachu x gn!reader)

You and Niki held hands as you sat on the couch watching a movie. You suddenly thought of how nice your hand fit in hers. “Niki, look it’s like our hands were made for each other!” you said and she laughed, pulling you into a sweet kiss.

5. Platonic hand-holding (platonic!Karl Jacobs x gn!reader)

You walked around the city with your best friend, absentmindedly holding each other’s hand and swinging them back and forth just because. Nothing mattered but your friendship and the beautiful views in front of you.

6. Running their thumb over the other’s hand (Wilbur Soot x gn!reader) TW || anxiety

As you entered the party, you regretted coming. There were way too many people for your liking. But this was your best friend’s birthday party and you couldn’t just ditch her like that. Wilbur turned to you and noticed your uncomfortable face. He took your hand in his tracing small circles on it with his thumb, letting you calm down.

7. Dancing with their hands holding onto each other (Dream x gn!reader)

“May I dance with you, my love?” Dream said as he held out his hand to you, smiling. A smile made its way onto your face as you swayed to the slow music, your hand in his.

8. Squeezing hand for comfort and encouragement (platonic!Ranboo x gn!reader)

You looked at Ranboo before making your way to the stage. He gave you a reassuring smile before squeezing your hand one last time and mouthing the words: “You can do this.”

9. Holding hands across the table (SapNap x gn!reader)

A fancy table set up at home due to the virus quickly spreading, candles light up and you two. The perfect date. You took a deep breath before putting a hand on Sapnap’s which was resting on the table. “Sap, I love you so so much. Will you marry me?” he looked at you with nothing but love and happiness in his eyes. “Yes, yes yes,” he said, stretching over the table to give you a kiss.

10. Happily doing everything with one hand even if it means they don’t have to let go (Quackity x gn!reader)

Alex stirred the pot as you chopped onions. Both doing your tasks with one hand. Ask why? Because why let go of your lover's hand when can *almost* do everything with one?

11. Not wanting to lose each other in a big crowd (Nihachu x gn!reader)

The crowd was huge. You knew there were many people who liked the same band as you, but this many people were unexpected. You held onto Niki's hand not to lose her in the huge crowd. "Niki, now I have an excuse to hold your hand at all time." you both laughed, making your way closer to the stage.

14. Grabbing hand to show them something (Wilbur Soot x gn!reader)

The Louvre was a really pretty museum, and you wanted to see everything. "Look, Wil, there's that famous painting I've been wanting to see!" you tugged on his arm as he chucked at your enthusiasm, following you to the painting.

15. Loosely holding onto each other’s hands, laying in one’s lap (GeorgeNotFound x gn!reader)

George laid in your lap as one of your hands loosely held his, and the other played with his hair. This must be what people call peace.

16. Only linking the pinkies together, not ready to let go completely (cc!Technoblade x gn!reader) TW || death, blood, angst

They had found you. Techno was too late and now there you were, laying on the floor and covered in blood. He let out a sob and the only sign of you being alive was your pinkie you had linked with his. And then your chest stopped. You were gone.

17. Holding hands while skating (Dream x gn!reader)

"I'm going to fall!" you shrieked, as Dream just smirked and held your hand tightly. "No, you're not. Look, you're already getting a hang of this!" he encouraged as you straightened your back, a little less afraid.

18. Excitedly grabbing each other’s hands during a concert, jumping up and down together (Karl Jacobs x gn!reader)

"I love this song!" you screamed over the song, as Karl nodded, continuing to bop his head to the music. You jumped up and down as the melody got faster. Your hands were linked and you were sure this was the best concert ever.

19. Playing with each other’s fingers (SapNap x gn!reader)

You sat next to him at his desk, watching as he edited yet another video. One of his hands was in yours while you fiddled with his fingers. He turned to you and pressed a kiss to your forehead. "I love you, baby."

20. Pressing the other’s hand against their cheek (Quackity x gn!reader) TW || sick reader

“How are you feeling mi amor?” Alex asked as he entered your room with a bowl of soup. “I’m feeling better, thanks to you.” you smiled at him as he sat on the bed, checking your fever. You took his hand in yours, pressing it against your cheek. “Thank you for taking care of me, I love you.”

21. Holding hands while one is balancing on a small wall (Nihachu x gn!reader)

You held Niki’s hand as she balanced on the small wall, laughing. Suddenly she slipped on a rock and landed into your arms as the both of you giggled.

22. Grabbing the other’s hand to pull them back from something (Dream x gn!reader)

“BE CAREFUL!” You felt your hand being pulled, just in time as a car flew by. Dream pulled you into his chest, hugging you as your breaths got steadier.

23. Holding hands under the table (Quackity x gn!reader) TW || someone talking shit abt Quackity

“And how’s it going with your uh...career?” Alex’s friend said sarcastically, obviously making fun of him. Alex’s muscles tensed, and you held his hand under the table, giving it a subtle squeeze. He smiled. “Better than yours.” As you two stood up and left.

24. Only realizing it when they have to let go (SapNap x gn!reader)

“Sap, it’s okay, I’m fine now. You don’t have to hold my hand. Thank you so much for the support.” SapNap looked at you, his gaze shy. “What if I don’t want to let go?” it was almost inaudible, but you heard it. You smiled, interlocking your fingers together. That’s a way to confess your feelings.

25. Standing in front of each other, holding both their hands (Wilbur Soot x gn!reader)

“y/n, I’ve been meaning to tell you something,” Wilbur said, holding both of your hands. You looked at him curiously, your brows slightly furrowing. “Will you marry me?” you gasped, immediately smiling. “YES, YES AND YES!” you screamed as Wilbur slid a pretty ring on your finger.

27. Passionate hand-holding (Karl Jacobs x gn!reader)

“Hii.” you said before plopping onto the couch next to Karl. You intertwined your fingers, wanting to never let go as soon as his hand touched yours.

28. Grabbing the other’s hand so they don’t fall (GeorgeNotFound x gn!reader)

“y/n, be careful, there’s a bump there,” George said as he pointed to the part of the road just ahead of you. Seems like he’d said it too late, because the next thing you knew, you were falling down. But thanks to George’s reflexes he held your hand just in time, preventing you from hitting the ground. “Thank you,” you breathed out, pressing a kiss on his cheek.

29. Holding hands while running through the rain (cc!Technoblade x gn!reader)

“I told you this'd be fun!” you said as the both of you ran around in the rain, laughing and holding hands.

30. Brushing against each other, linking fingers together for a second (Dream x gn!reader)

Your breath hitched as Dream’s hand brushed yours lightly, and as your pinkies linked for a second, you started to question if your feelings towards him were really platonic.

31. Grabbing their hand to grab their attention (Quackity x gn!reader)

“Babyyyyy.” you whined as you came into Alex’s room. “You’ve been editing for so long already, you need to get some rest, and also give me cuddles.” Alex chuckled as he turned to you in his chair. “Ten more minutes mi amor.” he said, also missing you a lot. But today you weren’t having it, so you grabbed his hand and tugged on it. He rolled his eyes and chuckled, following you to the couch in the living room.

32. Not really paying attention, both doing something else, but still holding hands (Wilbur Soot x gn!reader)

“Baby?” Wilbur asked and you hummed in response, not tearing your eyes off of your book. Your hand was in Wilbur’s who was scrolling through his phone. “I love you.” you turned to him, smiling. “I love you too, Wil.”

33. Bandaging the other’s hand and not quite letting go (SapNap x gn!reader) TW || a small injury

“You should’ve been more careful.” your best friend complained as he bandaged your hand. You had accidentally broken a cup and a piece of glass had cut your hand. When Sap finished his hand lingered on yours a little longer, making your cheeks lightly heat up.

34. Holding hands while driving (Karl Jacobs x gn!reader)

Karl’s left hand was on the steering wheel and the other one was interlocked with yours. A song was playing as you sang along and enjoyed the little moment.

35. Grabbing the other’s hand to pull them back to them (Nihachu x gn!reader)

The alarm clock beeped loudly, waking the both of you up. “A few more minutes...” you whined, but Niki was already starting to stand up. You caught her hand and lightly pulled her towards you. “Nooo a few more minutes but only with you,” you said as she laughed.

36. Unconsciously searching out each other’s hand while sleeping (GeorgeNotFound x gn!reader)

Your hand unconsciously searched for George’s, as you laid half asleep. Once you did, you interlocked your fingers and drifted off to a peaceful sleep.

37. Not realizing they’re holding hands till someone points it out (Wilbur Soot x gn!reader)

You sat on the couch in your friend’s house as the party became louder and louder every minute. Wilbur was next to you and you mindlessly interlocked your fingers. “I didn’t know you two were together.” one of your friends said, passing by. Your cheeks heated up as you slightly let go of his hand, but not completely.

38. Swinging hands back and forth, skipping like children (Quackity x gn!reader)

You and Alex swung your interlocked hands as you skipped around. In the daylight, when the streets were crowded this was not enjoyable; but at night, hanging out in a park while no one was there to throw you weird glances, it was perfect.

39. Holding hands in a museum to pull them to the next exhibition (Dream x gn!reader)

“Oh look! There’s that famous exhibition!” Dream exclaimed as he tugged on your hand. You followed him, curious about what you were going to see.

40. Letting go when there is an obstacle in their way and immediately grabbing each other’s hand again when they pass it (cc!Technoblade x gn!reader)

“Be careful, there’s a tree.” you let go of his hand for a second and as soon as you passed the tree, you softly took his hand in yours, continuing your walk in the forest.

41. Loosely holding onto each other’s hand (Nihachu x gn!reader)

You and Niki walked around the city, while she excitedly pointed out some important locations. You were loosely holding her hand, fascinated by everything around you.

42. Dragging the other with them, holding their hand (Karl Jacobs x gn!reader)

“Come on baby, you have to go to sleep, you’re overworking yourself.” Karl tried to convince you. You weakly asked for a few more minutes, but Karl took you by the hand and dragged you to bed. You were thankful because if not for him you’d be asleep on your desk in a few minutes.

43. Raising the other’s hand to their lips to kiss it softly (Wilbur Soot x gn!reader)

Your first date had been awesome. Wilbur was a true gentleman. As he opened the door for you to get out of the car, your eyes met. “Thank you for today Wilbur. I loved our date.” You smiled at him and he did so too, gently lifting your hand and pressing a quick kiss on it. “So... maybe you’re up for a second date sometime?” You nodded, not missing his rose-tinted cheeks.

44. Holding hands while jumping down from somewhere together (Dream x gn!reader) TW || cliff diving

"Ready?" Dream asked, giving your hand a subtle squeeze, and after you nodded, you jumped down into the beautiful blue waters, not letting go of Dream's hand.

45. Comparing hand sizes, then linking fingers together (SapNap x gn!reader)

Sapnap hoped that you wouldn't take this as an excuse to hold your hand, but he had to give it a shot. "y/n, let's compare hand sizes." you pressed your palms together, and before you knew it, Sap had linked your fingers together. Not that you minded, though.

-

taglist: @yasaiiissleeping

masterlist

[writingsfromhome]

Crystal Clear

A/N: Here’s some fluff, friends to lovers I’ve had going on while I work on something bigger :))

----------------------------------------

“Y/N,” a strange man calls my name. I look him up and down but I don’t think I know him.

“Who’s asking?”

“Y/N, it’s me? Harry.”

“Oh,” I laugh and greet him how I would have if I’d recognized him under all those layers, in a great big hug. “Your disguise is brilliant!”

“It’s not a disguise,” he says into his coat. “It’s bloody cold here.”

“Coldest day so far,” I accept the hot chocolate from the vendor and ask him for another, Harry could use one, poor thing. His plans this week were changed last minute, and since he was in New York City where his best childhood friend lived, he decided to actually hang out with me. Ever since he got famous, it was hard to catch time with him.

“Did the cold freeze all the English out of you? You’re not even wearing mittens,” Harry accepts his own cup from the vendor.

“I’m got them in my pocket,” I point to the bulge on the side of my coat as we step aside and make our way deeper into the winter festival that was at Bryant Park. “Don’t insult me, I can still make a better cup of tea than you ever could.”

“There she is,” I hear the smile in Harry’s voice more than I see it. It truly was ridiculous--not only was he wearing the thickest parka I’d ever seen, he also had on a beanie and a scarf, as well as knit gloves that held tightly to his hot chocolate.

“I’m always here, you’re just too busy to see me.”

“Not this again,” he groans. I was always giving him grief every time he touched down to NYC but didn’t pop by for a visit. I knew he had a hectic schedule, and even though I wasn’t that bothered I still liked to tease him.

“It’s true, you come to the city so often but I see you once a year. And maybe again when I’m in London if I get lucky.”

“I’m busy Y/N, I talk to you all the time!”

“I know,” I elbow him. “I just like to rile you up.”

“Well now that you’ve got that out of your system,” he tugs my hat over my eyes. “Where are we going next?”

I push it back up, “I thought we could just wander the shops, then get on the skating rink if you’re not frozen to death.”

“Alright I’ve got to pick some gifts up anyway let’s see what’s here.”

We make a good team as we visit stands selling ornaments and kitschy decor, handmade gifts, and hot cider. We sift through exactly what we might want, or what the other’s looking for. And with the light dusting of snow coming down, and the bright lights strung around the Park, it was like walking in a Christmas movie.

“Look at this,” I point ahead. We’d nearly visited all the stands and holiday shops but a festive psychic advertises their services in a small glass booth. “Should we?”

“It’s a waste of money,” Harry scoffs. “She’s just going to read your body language.”

“She might be the real deal-”

“You can’t be serious-”

“C’mon!” I tug his gloves hand and it takes a few but he stumbles towards me. It’s slightly warmer inside and I notice the space heater running in the corner. “At least it’s warm” I whisper to Harry.

“You really want to do this?” He asks one last time.

“It’s just $10-”

“$20 for the two,” the woman almost shifts out of the wall and I hide my jump with a laugh. There’s a curtain behind her, I realize, she must have stepped out.

“It’s just me,” I clarify.

She eyes Harry and Harry eyes her back. “You look familiar.”

“Just have that face,” he shrugs, burrowing into his scarf. “I’m just here to watch.”

She stares at him a moment longer before settling at the small table. I flash Harry a smile before sitting down myself, setting my bags onto the floor.

“Palm reading, cards, what will it be dear?” The psychic asks. I remember the sign out front said cards would be more than having my palm read so I opt for the cheaper option.

“Hm,” she says thoughtfully as she traces the lines on my palm. I wriggle my eyebrows at Harry and he rolls his eyes, but he stays watching her like a hawk. It was cute how overprotective he got sometimes. The psychic glances up to catch him watching her, she then glances at me and tilts her head.

“I see longevity, in life and love, a few bumps but you’re a strong persistent woman.”

Harry grumbles behind me and I resist the urge to say something to him.

“I see success after hard, hard work. But a big success that will change the course of your career.”

“Wow, how soon?” I ask.

“Mmm, after a big milestone. Turning 30?” she continues to examine my hand. “I see a second life later in life, with kids...just one no maybe two children.”

“How about her love life?” Harry asks. “Her last love s’not too nice.”

“Seriously Harry?” I turn to glare this time. He’s grinning with flushed cheeks, knowing it was a sore spot he liked to say i told you so to. It was true, he had told me so about my 3 year relationship but I’d ignored him.

“Your love life,’ the woman speaks up. “Shows me two great loves. One cuts short, the other is as long as your life line.”

“Ooh,” I lean in, interested. “I think I know about the one that was cut short. Tell me about the second!”

“This second...” she traces my palm and I feel a tingle. “This second love is very close, a bit rocky but it will last.”

“A bit rocky?”

“Hm,” she chews her bottom lip. “Time, distance...it will make it rocky. But it lasts.”

“So how close is close?” I ask eagerly.

“Close,” she says with a smile that tells me I wasn’t getting anything else out of her.

“That’s a bit vague isn’t it?” Harry pipes up from the back.

“The future isn’t always crystal clear,” she says without looking up at him.

“Lay off,” I scold him.

“It’s okay, I get nonbelievers all the time.” She laughs. “That will be $10 dear.” When I hand her the bill she stops me as she takes it. “A little free advice?”

“Sure.” I pick up the bags I placed on the floor earlier.

"Don’t be so focused on the life you want that you don’t see the life you have around you.”

“I’ve actually told her that before,” Harry decides we want more of his unsolicited opinions. “Maybe there is something true to all of this.”

“Thanks,” I pocket her words for later. Harry was right, he’d said something along those lines to me before, especially when it came to giving up control and going with the flow on trips and events with him. I always declined his offers, we lived a modest life growing up and accepting these gifts from him always felt so excessive. I wanted to make my own way in the world, but Harry always had something to say. “And sorry for his attitude, he’s not always this rude.”

“Yeah,” Harry shifts forward. “I didn’t mean anything by it, I’m a lot nicer usually.”

“I know,” she smiles.

“She’s psychic,” I remind him.

“I’m also online,” she laughs. “Can I get a picture?”

Harry eyes me, before going in for a selfie with her. I know he usually didn’t mind getting asked in smaller settings but he’d admitted it was something he was still getting used to. It had been a couple years since he became so famous, in such a short amount of time I went from being able to go down to a local pub with my best friend to schedules and security details and a whole other list of complications. Sometimes I hated it, mostly I was happy for him.

“Another day, another fan.” I tell Harry after we walk away from the psychic and he flips me off. “Should we get something to eat and get out of the cold?”

“God yes,” Harry shivers. “Can we just go to yours?”

“Let’s go,” I loop my arm through Harry’s.

Harry wants instant warmth so he hails a cab and we pick up takeout once we reach my neighbourhood. Harry had been here a few times, my roommate had gotten used to the fact that I was best friends with him, and sometimes he preferred to stay here when he wanted to be anonymous. Paparazzi sometimes crowded outside his hotel when word leaked he was there.

We eat ourselves into a food coma and Harry decides to stay the night, not wanting to face the cold again. Since our living room couch sprained his neck the only time he’d slept there, he usually crashed in my bed. His head barely hits the pillow before he’s snoring, I guess the jet lag finally caught up.

***

I jerk out of sleep, a crashing noise followed by swearing catches my attention.

“I think your roommate dropped something,” I hear from beside me. I turn my face to get a facefull of Harry’s thigh tattoos.

“Y’think?” I croak and shift backwards to see his face. He’s sitting up in bed and scrolling through his phone.

“Guess which psychic is officially internet-famous?” Harry asks dryly.

“Hm?” I’m still calming my heart from waking up so suddenly so it takes a moment to register Harry’s words. “What?”

He shoves his phone in my face, the selfie he took with the psychic yesterday is posted on social media with over half a million likes. He swipes away and a lot of his tag is filled with news outlets and fan accounts spamming the picture. He pulls it back to read a heading: “Harry Styles visits Psychic for ideas on his next album. There’s also Harry Styles rumored to be connected to the Occult...I don’t know what that means. Psychic tells all on Harry Styles reading.”

“How did that picture circulate?” I rub my eyes and sit up beside him. “And where is all of this coming from?”

“She has a Twitter, and she posted the picture.” He shows me, it’s there with the caption A handsome face showed up to my booth at the Bryant Park Market tonight. Get your future told, 5pm to 9pm 7 days a week.

I can’t help but laugh, she was a business woman and she really took the opportunity to sell her service.

“It’s not funny Y/N,” Harry looks furious so I cover my mouth and squint at his screen as he scrolls. A ton of people are responding asking about his future or what he came there for. Amongst them, she responds to only one person: His love life was involved.

My jaw drops, “That’s such a lie! She read me my love life, and life lines!”

“I told you she was a fraud,” Harry jerks the phone back to him.

“She lied for sales, but doesn’t mean she didn’t tell the truth yesterday.”

“If she lied about this she lied about it all and you wasted $10. She only talked about your love life, not mine...”

I remember her words, my second love was very close...could she have meant...

I glance at Harry and he seemed to have followed the same train of thought because we lock eyes, his probably just as wide as mine.

“D’you think?” he says just as I say “Was she...?”

We immediately burst out laughing as the tension comes to a head and bubbles over in a safe trickle.

“Is that what she was trying to say?” I say when I’ve finally caught my breath, my stomach hurt from laughing this hard.

“I guess when she said close she meant close,” Harry’s flat on his back from laughing. “Quite literal.”

“And you were calling her out on being so vague.”

“I’ve got to give it to her,” he shuts his phone off and throws it onto the covers between us, releasing the annoyance. “She’s a good businesswoman.”

“I was thinking the same thing but I thought you might kill me if I said that,” I admit.

We lay on the rumpled covers in silence, I think about everything else she said. The potential of it all is tarnished by the idea of Harry being my second love, for life. It was so ridiculous, unless by love she meant the way I love him now. As my best friend. Our lives were so different, there was no way it could ever work. Not to mention...he was my best friend since forever.

“Have you ever thought about it?” Harry asks out of the blue.

“Thought about what?” I prop myself on my elbow.

“Us, like...the way she predicted?”

“Together together?” I can’t help but laugh. “No never, you’re my best friend!” I recognize the flash of hurt so I backtrack a little. “No offense Harry, I love you but could you imagine?”

“I have,” he says it so quietly as I lay back down. “What?” I ask. He shrugs, “I’m surprised you haven’t. We’ve been friends since...we were 7. You’re saying you never thought about it?”

“No,” I shake my head. “Actually I haven’t. When...what did you think about?”

“I dunno,” he fiddles with his rings. “Like for school dances, when I didn’t have a date I thought about asking you as more than a friend...thought about where that could lead. Or every time you had your heart broke. I wanted to take the pain away and just show you what you deserved.”

“Harry I...” it was sweet, what he was saying. But he never gave a single clue about it the entire time we grew up. He was always chasing girls who looked nothing like me, so I always thought that’s what his type was. Never did I think about anything more with him.

“Not-not recently though,” he forces a laugh. “Just when we were kids.”

“That’s sweet Harry. I had no idea.”

He shrugs, and sits up.

“No seriously I...that’s so sweet. But just so you know, you have shown me what a good man can be. Just by being the best friend ever.”

“Aw,” he swipes my cheek as he gets up. “That’s cute. I don’t know if I’ve done such a good job when you’ve only dated knobs.”

I could recognize his defense mechanism--turning it into a big joke. But he leaves the room before I can call him out and I’m left sitting in the mess of what he’d just told me. It’s not that it was awkward or a bad thing, but suddenly it felt tense and the tension triggered an anxious feeling in my chest.

I decide to get out of my room and find my roommate cleaning up the remains of her broken mug. I offer to clean the spill as she dresses to go out for her run. Helping her distracts me, and when I hear Harry leave the bathroom I lock myself in, and try some breathing exercises to clear the anxiety creeping up. When I realize I was trying to avoid Harry, I scold myself. This was ridiculous and funny! Harry wanted to ask me out when we were kids, it was cute, and that was it. The psychic was a fake anyway, nothing she said meant anything.

I head back to my room where Harry’s made the bed. I change into trousers and my favourite fisherman sweater, and find him having coffee at our small kitchen table with his phone on speaker as he talks to someone. His legs barely fit underneath, so they’re sprawled to the side. He’s still shirtless, and my attention snags on his torso.

I shake myself out of my thoughts as I bump into the kitchen island, and glance up to see that although he was talking to the person on the phone, his eyes had been on me...while my eyes were on his abs. Oh god, I cringe. I try to act casual, mouthing if he wanted breakfast but he shakes his head and points to the call he’s having.

I make myself a toast and try to ignore what just happened but it only adds to the tension from this morning. When he gets off his call he brings his cup up to the sink.

“I think I need another cup.”

“Be my guest,” I move aside. “You sure you don’t want breakfast?”

“Are you going to feed me avocado flax seed quinoa toast?” he teases.

“There’s no quinoa.” I correct, crossing my arms. “But...yes.”

“I’ll take this banana,” he holds the lone banana on the counter. “I’ve got to be in East Harlem by noon, that’s what the call was about.”

“Aw,” I hated saying goodbye. “Are you busy the rest of your stay?”

“I can make it back here,” he says.

“Do whatever you need to do,” I say. “I’m used to being discarded after you hang out with me in the city.”

“I don’t do that!” he reaches behind me to slot his cup in and set the machine to grind his beans. I can smell my shampoo on him, he must’ve showered. “If you want me back, you can just say that.”

The morning sunlight streaming through the kitchen window leaves no room for shadows; the shift in the mood is clear as the daylight streaming in. Or maybe I was reading too much into his words.

“I always want you back,” I look up to his height now that he’s standing so close, and the kitchen tightens further.

We’re stuck in a tableau; with my back against the fridge looking up at him as he gazes down with a curious expression. My mind grows blank the longer I stare. No one says a word, the sound of beans grinding the only noise in the kitchen.

My best friend in the whole world looks torn standing in front of me like this, and as my senses slowly rush back I realize that even if my expression doesn’t show it...I was torn. Because out of nowhere, all I can think about are all the questions I ever shoved away in the dark: what would it feel like if I kissed him right now? And what would have happened to us if he had asked me out to our school dance? Would we still be best friends? Would we have cut each other out? How many universes were we still good together like this? How many universes were we good together as more than this?

An urge to touch his face, make sure this was real, takes over me. But as soon as my fingers brush his cheek he snaps out of his trance and stumbles back like I’d burned him.

He forces a laugh. “I really do need that coffee.”

“Right,” I turn to the machine to put the grinds into their slot but I yank too hard and the freshly ground coffee flies out towards me. “Shit!”

“What happ-” Harry takes one look at what’s happened and turns away, his shoulders shaking.

“I can see you right in front of me laughing!” I shout. “Help me!”

“It’s all over you Y/N,” he turns around, tears in his eyes. “Give me this, I’ll put it far away from you.” He takes the remaining grinds and sets it down. I brush away what’s closest to my eyes so I can see and try to shake it off my sweater but they stick to the fibers of the knit.

“Great,” I grumble. “This is dry clean only.”

“It’s in your hair,” he runs his fingers through the strands that hang over my shoulder. I shake my head to dislodge the grinds; his fingers brush my neck away and tucks my hair behind my ear. “Uhm, that should be most of it.”

“It’s not out of this sweater,” I pout. “Screw dry clean, why did I think I could buy dry cleaning clothes?”

“I can drop it off on the way out today?” he offers.

“That means you’re coming back to drop it off to me?!” I ask hopefully.

His expression softens, “Y/N I’m coming back to your flat. I promise.”

“He promises!” I shout. Even though things were a bit awkward this morning, I got to spend more time with my hard-to-catch best friend and for that I was over the moon.

“We could also try to vacuum the sweater?” Harry suggests.

“So you don’t have to come back with dry clean?” I tease. “I’m not letting you get out of your promise, let me give it to you before you change your mind.” I tug my top off and ball it up, shoving it in his hands. It falls to the floor when he doesn’t hold it.

“Hello?” I look up and he’s a deer in the headlights. “Harry...”

“I can’t do this right now,” he takes a step back. I get the sweater from the ground and hold it out to him again.

“Do you want to wipe the kitchen floor with the sweater too? Take it!” I sigh. “Harry are you really acting so chaste about seeing a girl in her bra?”

“It’s-” he decides to stop mid-word. “You’re not just any girl Y/N, I’ve already made it clear.”

Now it’s my turn to stare--he hadn’t made it clear. “You said you only felt something when you were younger...”

“And you believed me?”

I realize I didn’t, but I wanted to believe him so I hadn’t questioned it. “Well it’s not the first time you’ve seen me in a bra. Can you take the damn sweater?” 

“Yeah I can I’m just...” he seems to calm down a bit, enough to step towards me and take it. “I didn’t have to face this conflicted feeling in me if I didn’t see you often. I can just be the best friend. But now, with the whole psychic thing and you in--like this in your kitchen and I--I’m remembering how much I just want to...”

“Kiss me,” I say.

“Yeah...” he looks away.

“No, I’m telling you to kiss me.” I clarify. His expression would’ve made me laugh if my heart wasn’t beating so fast. I couldn’t believe I was being this impulsive.

“Really? You’re not just saying that cuz of this morning?”

“Fine,” I step out of his reach and cross my arms to hide my shaking hands. “If you don’t want to kiss me-”

He pulls me back too quickly and I bump into his chest. “I never said that.” He says in a tone I’d never heard from him before, it’s serious and sexy and it sends tingles through my body. I press myself up against him and he finally, finally, kisses me. Every bit of tension and anxiety the day had built up releases in the single moment his lips cover mine.

How had I waited this long?

The kiss is gentle, delicate like he’s still not entirely sure I want the same thing he does. I show him I do by using my tongue to open his mouth slowly and the hesitation disappears immediately. We’re a fighter jet taking off from there; I don’t know where I end and where he begins as he walks me to the kitchen island and lifts me onto it, our limbs tangling together, His hands roam down the side of my body, but he stays in the safe zones until I unclasp my bra.

“Oh hell no,” my roommate’s voice interrupts us from behind. I hold my bra close and turn. She stands at the entryway, shaking her head. “Not here. Not on our kitchen island. You two have a room literally 10 feet away...”

“Oops,” I say quietly which seems to set Harry off. My roommate is still shaking her head but I see the smile on her face. I’d caught her hooking up on multiple occasions so it wasn’t anything new. But I didn’t do this often. I jump down, apologizing to her. “Harry’s going to clean the coffee off the floor...I-I’ll find a shirt.”

“Mhm,” she closes her bedroom door and I look over at Harry who’s crouching on the floor in tears.

“This is all your fault!” I whisper but he tugs me down to where he is and holds my face as he kisses me.

“I know you two aren’t behind the island,” my roommate’s voice comes out again. I stay there as her footsteps move to the bathroom and the door closes behind her.

“I hate you,” I skirt out of his reach, and rush to my room yelling another sorry as I head back and find a top. Harry appears in my room as I put it on.

“I guess that was a good time for her to walk in on before it got too far?” he still has a stupid grin on his face.

“I don’t even want to think about it,” my cheeks were burning and even more so that Harry was elated.

“I’ve actually got to head out now.”

I pout but he kisses my pout instead. He promises he’ll be back in the evening and I let him go with one more kiss, my mind catching up with everything that just happened.

Oh my god.

***

It’s nearly 8 by the time I’m done running all my errands--taking holidays off for work was usually a good decision for me. I had a big family and picking up all the holiday bits before I flew back home was always a big job. I take an Uber home, I couldn’t handle a 40 minutes trip back home carrying everything home on the subway.

I call out to my roommate when I get in but she doesn’t respond. I check her door and it’s open and dark, the bathroom is also empty. She must have evening plans.

I open my door to a surprise. Harry is sprawled on my bed. He jerks awake when I settle my bags down.

“Y/N?” he squints as I turn the light on.

“How did you get in here?” I shrug my coat off.

“Y’roommate let me in before she left,” he rubs his eyes. “Didn’t mean to fall asleep...I had a whole thing planned.”

I’d gone over the whole morning during my errands, surprised and excited and nervous about this new step for us. But I continued to think about what the psychic said, our love lines extended alongside my life line. Even though there wasn’t much comfort or trust in a psychic who used a photo opp as a marketing opp, what she said had come true. And I put my faith in that, calming my nerves about this new step potentially ruining our friendship forever.

“Was that okay?” Harry sits up. “She didn’t think you’d mind.”

“Oh no that’s fine,” I unwrap my scarf and stand at the foot of my bed. “I really wasn’t sure if you were coming back.”

“Of course I would,” he reaches for my hand. “I wouldn’t leave you after this morning, I’m not that flighty.”

“Well we never really got to talk about it,” I say as I sit down. I’d texted him during the day but it never showed he read it, I wasn’t sure how to read into that; finding him passed out on my room meant he was probably on the go all day.

“Are you okay with this?” he says with such concern, I nearly tear up. This was making me way too emotional.

“I am,” I smile at my best friend in the whole world. “I just don’t want to go too fast.”

“We won’t,” he promises as he holds his arms out. I lean in towards his solid chest and he wraps his arms around me. I feel his breath on my cheek, then his lips in my hair. “I’m yours for eternity Y/N, we can take it as slow or fast as you want.”

It was a good thing to say, and I believe him entirely.

We eventually untangle ourselves to get food in us, and even though things are different, they’re also not. We still pick out the same parts of our food to give the other person, we still talk the same shit and laugh at the same jokes. But his hands grasps mine and his thumb brushes over my knuckles absentmindedly. His eyes stay steady on me as I talk like I’m someone new he’s exploring. We kiss after dinner, but we also load the dishwasher and laugh about the one time I’d managed to burn soup from a can. Eventually we end in my bedroom, where we lay together, our conversation growing quieter by the minute, the space between us growing smaller.

And even though we’d slept like this a hundred times before, it’s different now. I can feel it in every atom of my being, I was his and he was mine. And I don’t know how long it’s been like this for it to feel so easy, but accepting it was a no brainer, like accepting the sky was blue or the sun was hot. I remember the advice the psychic gave, I was following it: living the life I had around me even though it wasn’t the life I thought I would have.

There were a million things Harry and I had to figure out to make this work--I knew it wasn’t going to be easy. But I did know that it was right, it was true, and it was going to be forever.

The future may not be crystal clear, but my future with this man was.

[morizoras-cave]

Take Care (Request)

Chris Evans x gn!teen!co-star!reader

Genre: angst

Request Description: Hello! I love your writting❤ I was wondering if i could request a Chris Evans x teen reader were she is overworking herself and forgetting to eat and sleep and ends up fainting on set and he freaks out or something ❤❤❤❤❤thanks!!

Warnings: not taking care of oneself, stress, anxiety, language

(A/N): reader is kind of a crackhead in this ngl 

“Alright, 20 minute break!” 

You sighed, hoping it would shake off some of the stress. It didn’t. Your eyebrows were still furrowed and there was still a small shake in your right hand. You were dashing off to the break room, so you could work on that damned essay. 

Your legs felt like nothing today, it had been that way a couple of days. Like jelly, or not even that, just nothing. On top of that there was a tingly, almost anxious feeling in your stomach that had come with the non-existent legs. You knew you weren’t alright, but sadly what you also knew, was that you didn’t have time to be not-alright.

“You’re in a hurry,” your co-star Chris said, as he strolled into the break room, where you were already opening your laptop. 

“Uh huh,” was all you said, opening your Google drive to work some more.

You felt a sharp pain in your stomach, so bad that it made you look down, wondering if you’d been stabbed or something. You hadn’t, of course, seeing as you were sitting on a couch in a highly protected movie set. What the hell?

“You okay, kid?” 

You didn’t eat breakfast, that’s why. No big deal. Wait- Did you eat dinner yesterday? Or lunch? Or breakfast? Or-

The bright light of your document ripped you from your spiraling thoughts, immediately taking away the attention and worry you had only just begun to feel for yourself. 

“Yes,” you said, but your right hand was shaking so much that you had to grip the edge of your laptop to still it. Chris shuffled, watching you being obviously not okay. He said nothing.

You worked, researching the topic you were working on. Usually you’d like this type of assignment, but recently there’d just been so much stress. You couldn’t enjoy it, you just had too much work. Too much to do. Your eyes were heavy and you winced as you remembered that you went to bed at 5 AM.

The thought sent that creeping chill up your spine, as you remembered once more that you hadn’t eaten, and now also your lack of sleep, but the anxiety that had been roaming your body for the past week or so pushed it away with ease. 

“We’re starting again!”

You looked up, seeing Chris once more, in the same position as when he entered the room, staring at you worriedly. His eyes on you somehow made you aware that you were horribly out of breath, painfully gulping in air. 

You pushed your laptop away, going to stand up and walk back to set, when your legs turned into static and you dropped to the ground with a loud ‘smash’. 

You immediately heard Chris run over to you, followed by his hands on your shoulders. 

“Y/n!” he breathed and gulped, shaking you. Your body felt like nothing, nothing but tingling anxiety and static and painful, erratic gulps of air. You closed your eyes and kept them closed because your body decided right then and there that it was not going to deal with your bullshit. And so you passed out. 

You didn’t know how long you were out, it certainly didn’t feel like very long, because you awoke to the sound of Chris’ barking voice, feeling as tired as ever. 

“Y/n! Y/n? Oh, thank God!” he pulled your weak body up to his in a hug. You felt his quick heartbeat against your chest.

“W-Wha? How long was I out?” you asked, simply because that was what they always asked in the movies, and with your foggy state of mind you were slightly afraid that you’d been asleep for 70 years like Captain America. 

“Like, 20-30 seconds?” he said very much in a questioning voice and, without pulling you away from him, stood up, walking with you in his grasp, as your feet dragged against the ground. 

“Ugh,” was all you said, Chris gently putting you to lie down on the couch. Just then, a set worker came running in to see what the fuss was all about. He looked in need of glasses, narrowing his eyes and shifting his gaze from you, to Chris, and then back again. 

“You okay?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“No.” 

Both you and Chris spoke at the same time, and then snapped your heads towards each other. He glared at you and again your brain failed you, so you glared back at him, wondering why you were glaring. 

“They’re not okay,” Chris sighed and the set worker looked at you for another two moments before nodding to Chris, and bounding away. Chris pulled out a stool and sat down beside your sofa. You were pretty close to falling asleep.

“What was that? Why did faint?” Chris asked and in that moment you remembered again.

Oh shit. Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, oh shit. You’ve really done it now! You hadn’t eaten or slept like an absolute idiot! And now you’d have to explain it, explain how you hadn’t taken care of yourself, like a five year old.

“Uh, well, I’ve been pretty.. Stressed,” you said and Chris scoffed. 

“Yeah, I’ve noticed. I mean, is that it? Have you been eating?” 

“Well..” you were really trying to dig your way out of this one, “Define eating?” 

Chris did not seem to think this was as funny as you did, and his eyes widened and you saw realization, anger, sadness, and worry all at the same time. He swore under his breath, looking away. You felt like shit. Both because you hadn’t been taking care of yourself and because now you’d worried your friend. 

“Y/n..  You can’t do this..” he mumbled and he seemed absolutely lost. 

“I know! I just- I haven’t had time for anything! I haven’t had time to relax, eat, sleep.. It’s all just been work, work, work, and everyone’s counting on me, and..” you trailed off, your words making you realize just how not-alright you really were. Meanwhile, Chris noticed something entirely different about your sentence.

“Did you say sleep?” 

“Uh-”

“Did you just say you haven’t eaten or slept?” Chris sounded almost baffled now, a slight absurdity and anger to his tone. 

“Well- I slept a little bit!” you defended because unlike the eating you had actually slept for at least 2 hours. 

“When did you go to bed?” 

“I don’t see how that’s relevant right now-” 

“Y/n!” He yelled and then -

Silence. 

You looked over at him. His face was buried in his hands, hair ruffled as he had undoubtedly been running his hand through it as you spoke. He was shaking and you could hear his unsteady breath under his hands. 

Slowly, he pulled away his hands. He looked tired. And sad. 

Then he stood up and walked out of the room. Your heart skipped a beat, as you wondered whether he’d actually gotten tired of you. You felt tears prick your eyes. How could you be so stupid? How could be so neglectful and let down your friend? God, he must hate you.

You sniffled, tears falling down your face. You moved your heavy arms up to wipe away the tears, but they kept coming. You covered your eyes in shame.

A gentle hand was on your shoulder, making you jump. You pulled away your hands reluctantly, meeting Chris’ eyes once more. You glanced down and in his other hand, clutching a sandwich and an apple into his chest. 

“It’s okay,” he mumbled forcing himself to smile for you, just to show that he wasn’t angry. Well, he was, but mostly at himself, because you had too much on your plate. It was his responsibility to remind you to take care of yourself when it became too much. At least that’s what he felt. He sat down on the stool again and handed you the sandwich and the apple.

You took it and silently began eating it. It delicious, you realized, and wondered why you ever stopped eating. 

“Y/n. You have to take this seriously. You can’t do this. This is dangerous, you know that, right?” 

You nodded with your mouth full of food. 

“I know it must be hard with school and acting and all of this celebrity shit.. I know and I’ll try to be there for you to help, because this-” he looked at you, “No one deserves this amount of stress. No one. So I’d like for you to consider asking your school for a small break? And if that’s not what you want, I’d like to help you with your homework. How does that sound?” 

You chewed sheepishly. “That sounds good. The break thing.” 

“Good. Then, call your mom and she’ll call your school and explain it to them. But first, I want you to finish eating and then I’ll follow you down to your trailer and you’ll go to sleep. Tomorrow - or, you know, whenever you wake up - you’ll do nothing but relax, and then you can starting acting again the day after.”

You nodded, chewing the last mouthful of your sandwich. Chris tapped the apple playfully, “Apple, too,” he said. 

And so you ate your apple and went back to your trailer, sleeping a fairly long amount of time, and as promised the next day you did nothing but relax. The anxiety in your stomach was gone, and your legs felt strong again, so you did a little dance to celebrate.

You started working again the next day and after a two week break from school, you got homework again. This time though there was significantly less. You didn’t know who to thank for that, wether your mom had scolded their ears off, or if Chris or perhaps the director had called, but either way you weren’t nearly as stressed, and the feeling of being healthy was delightful. 

You never stopped thanking Chris for helping you, but he always shrugged it off. It was his duty, not as your coworker, but as your friend. He was just happy to see you healthy and functioning. That was reward enough. 

___________________________

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