#tape recorder click sound how did i miss you

[edensbackyard]

Tape recorder click sound my beloved

[iguessweallcrazyithinktho]

𝐋𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐄𝐍𝐕𝐘 • 𝐉𝐔𝐃𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐇𝐀𝐌

Summary: IM BEGGING jude smut/angst where him and reader are broken up but he finds an old (rough?) sextape and he touches himself to it (we want details tho intense solo sessions are HOT😩) then yeah he regrets leaving her and wants her backkk, and then maybe shes with another guy and he gets all jealous and possessive (sorry to much details) I want toxic jude soooo bad 🤭

GENRE: angst, smut

WARNING: s3x, oral(male receiving), intercourse, cheating, a little bit toxic jude, sex tapes, cameras, curse words, both povs

PAIRING: Jude Bellingham x f reader

AUTHOR NOTE: don’t repost or copy and paste my work. I’ll hunt you down

WORD COUNT: 4k

Request yes or no: yes

Bold Italics is flashbacks and text

Masterlist still coming

♥︎𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲♥︎

Jude’s hand was wrapped around his length. A small grunts left his lips in frustration as he tries his best to get himself off. No matter how hard he was trying, he couldn’t release. This was the second night this week he tried and couldn’t. No matter how hard he was or what he thought about he just couldn’t bring himself to his high.

Jude still his movement and sighed.

“fuck.” He mutters to himself. he reached over, grabbing his phone from his nightstand. The phone brightness caused him to squint his eyes. Jude clicked on his photo gallery, scrolling down to a secret album.

He hates what he was about to do.

For two years you and jude were together. Throughout those two years you both recorded several sex tapes for when Jude went away for games.

Now that you were broken up Jude should have deleted them, but he couldn’t bring himself to do that.

Jude clicked on one of the videos. The sound of your voice filled the room.

His heart went racing. Jude hand went right back to his cock as he stared at the video on his phone.

“you like that?” you asked Jude in a teasing voice.

You were on your knees in front of him with his dick in your mouth. The camera in Jude’s hand captured everything; Your pretty lips wrapped around him, your needy eyes looking up at him, your filthy falling from your lips from your lips.

Jude starts pumping his cock in his hand when he felt the blood rushing to it. a grunt of satisfaction leaving his lips as stroke his hard length faster and faster at the image of you.

Your hand wrapped around Jude’s base tightly, you stroked him up and down, your lips still very much wrapped around his tip.

The camera shook a little and a groan from Jude could be heard behind the camera.

“I don’t want to fuck your pretty little mouth but I’m tempted.” Jude said while putting his hand on the back of your head to guide you a little up and down himself. You moaned releasing him from your mouth with a pop but not your hand. You looked at him with those eyes that made him weak in the knees

“just do it baby, fuck my mouth like you want”

Jude was a fucking mess right now. While he pump himself faster than the speed of light, He so badly wish it was you doing this to him. He wish your lips were wrapped around him like they were in the video. Fuck he missed you so much.

Giving Jude the ok, that was all he needed. He gripped the back of your head, thrusting into your mouth hitting the back of your throat making you gag

The camera was wobbly at the action and not much could be seen. It did however pick up every little moan that escaped your throat.

“Shit baby.” Jude hissed as he hit the back of your warm throat over and over again. “you’re going to make me cum-

Jude clicks off the video before it continues. He needs the one where you were a moaning mess.

He scrolls through the album until he finds the perfect one.

Heat flush’s over Jude when he clicks play and your loud moan fills his ear.

The camera was in your hand facing you while Jude was in between your legs on the other side. Your mouth was wide open as a loud moan tumbled from your lips. Your makeup was messy from the tears that had rolled down your cheeks.

Jude remembered that night. You both had just came back from a date. Jude couldn’t keep his hands off of you.

“Oh my gosh yes! Don’t stop that feels so good.”

You moaned out a fuck while Your head fell back against the pillow What the camera couldn’t see what was how your legs threatened to close around Jude. This was going to be your second orgasm of the night and you were overstimulated as fuck.

“Fuck!” was all Jude groans out. The wet sounds of him stroking his lubed up self fills the room along with his heavy breathing. Precum was leaking from Jude’s tip. He was close just from your sounds of pleasure.

“stop moving baby.” Jude mumbled. You looked down at him watching him devour you like you were the last meal on earth. His warm wet tongue moved between your fold to your clit. He sucked harshly making you squeal.

Jude moaned every now and then from how divine you taste.

“going to make you cum huh?” Jude asked when he pulled away from you slightly. He pushed two digits into your tight cunt making your toes curl.

“yes, you’re going to make me cum. Please don’t stop.”

Jude didn’t.

behind the camera you watched as he spit on your pussy before diving back in to savor you. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head at how amazing it felt

Jude was so close, so close it almost hurt. The pit in his stomach was tight and his breathing grew faster with every stroke of his hand.

Jude eyes stays glued to the video. You were just as close as Jude was in the video.

You were biting your lips in the video trying to hide your loud moans(Even though that was useless).

“Jude I’m so close.” You Barely choked out. Nothing was said just Jude keeping his pace. He knew you were close.

With a loud moan you came. Stars were seen as your orgasm took over your body

“FUCK JUDE!”

“y/n!” he moans.

Jude Came, His cum spilling all over his abs. His eyes squeezes shut at the intensity of your orgasm. He finally came like he so badly wanted to this past few weeks.

His hands didn’t stop until he has fully come down from his high.

The room filled with silence after Jude pauses the video. Jude tosses the phone beside him on the bed with a sigh.

He got up and walks over to the bathroom for a much needed shower.

The whole time Jude was in the shower he couldn’t stop thinking about you. He wasn’t sure what he was thinking breaking up with you. He thought Because he was so young it was best to be single and explore his options. It was a stupid idea.

You were the only girl for him. Nobody cared for him as much as you did, nobody listened to him as much as you did and nobody could satisfy him as much as you could that was for sure.

He needs you back in his life.

Once he was out the shower, Jude got right back into bed. He picks up his phone and goes over to Instagram. He searches up your name and when it pops up he feels a little anxious.

He didn’t dare look you up for those past nine you both been broken up. He couldn’t bring himself to do it, but now here he was.

The first thing Jude saw was a picture of you. You looked just as heavenly as when he last seen you.

He scrolls down a little bit more taking in the pictures but he came across one that made his stomach drops.

There was a picture of you and some guys. You were smiling happily with your arms wrap around the man neck.

Jude frowns while reading the caption.

Y/n: Party with my baby ❤️

No way you moved on that fast Jude thought to himself. How are you happily with someone?

Jude throws his phone onto the bed. He runs his hand over his face and sighs loudly.

Jude decided to sleep on it and figure out what he was going to do to get you back tomorrow.

When he awoke the next morning he felt a drive to get you back.

He wasn’t sure what he was going to do. Seeing how you blocked his number he couldn’t call you. He could message you on Instagram, but you probably wouldn’t reply to him. He has to get you in front of him.

After a while of thinking, he comes up with a plan. He was going to throw a party to get to see you. He knows you wouldn’t pass up the opportunity to go to one, I mean you never did when you both were dating, so this was perfect.

-

A day later Jude has everything set. The party was in full swing, people flooded into the building, but there was no sight of you.

Jude was starting to think this was a bad idea every time he looked to the door and you didn’t Walk in. Maybe you knew he was the one who planned the party so you weren’t coming.

After looking at the door for what seems like the hundredth times Jude decides to stop. He excuses himself for his group of friends before walking to the kitchen. He needs another drink.

After making his way through the sweaty crowd to the kitchen, he went to the fridge. He looks through it completely unaware of the people walking in and out of the kitchen.

When he finally got a drink strong enough, he stood back up and turns to leave but ended up bumps into someone.

“shit.”

He stops whoever it is from falling due to how hard he bumps into them.

“I’m sor- y/n”

Jude’s heart skips in his chest. You showed up.

He wasn’t sure what to do or say now that you were standing in front of him. He should have thought about that.

“jude, hi.” You smile softly at your ex right in front of you. “how have you been?”

Jude sighs. He wants to tell you he misses you, but he couldn’t be desperate.

“I’ve been good. How about you?”

You nod slightly. “I’ve been great” great.. your not as miserable as him. “I got a new job and… I’m with someone.” You hesitate on the last part, debating if you should even tell him.

Before Jude could say anything you continue to speak.

“This is a nice party don’t you think! I just need a drink.” You walk around Jude to the fridge.

Jude turns around watching as you bend down to find something. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from your ass. He wish he could bend you over and fuck you like he used to.

You turn around and look at Jude. He looks away from your ass but not in time for you to not see. Jude missed the smirk that forms on your face.

You were about to say something then your name gets called.

“y/n.”

Jude turns around and you look to see your boyfriend standing in the doorway.

“hi baby.”

Jude watches you smile at the guy and walk around him to the brown haired man. He put his arm around your waist trying to show Jude you were all his. It took everything in Jude to not roll his eyes.

“um Jude this is my boyfriend Joey. Joey this is Jude a friend.”

friend... Really?

Jude walks over to you two, shaking the boyfriends hand.

“actually I’m her ex but it’s nice to meet you.”

Jude ignores the way you stare into daggers into him and walks around you both back into the heat of the party.

For the rest of the night Jude stays in his booth downing several drinks. Saying he was in his feelings was an understatement. He was drowning in them.

Every now and then a girl would come up to him trying to flirt with him, but he pushes them away.

--

Jude woke up the next day with a pounding headache. With a groan He pulls back the blanket. He rubs the sleep from his eyes, walking over to the bathroom to get ready for training.

He knew he shouldn’t have gotten drunk knowing he had training the next day.

Even though Jude feels like shit, he sucks it up and got ready for his day.

The whole day at training Jude couldn’t stop his mind from being consumed by the thought of you. It resulted in him fucking up several times making his teammates and coaches confused by what the fuck was wrong with him.

They asked several times what was wrong, but he gave them the same answer. “I’m fine. Just tired.”

Jude was so happy when it was time to go home. He didn’t even stop to sign anything for fans. He was so ready to get home.

What was he going to do was all that Jude was thinking about on the way home. How can he get you back? His little party plan didn’t work so now what?

Maybe he could go to your job and talk to you, But he doesn’t know where you work.

He could ask a friend to set you both up... No you probably had talked so much shit about him after your breakup.

There was only one more idea he could think about and that was DMing you.

He prays to the whatever was out there, that you would reply and not ignore him.

Jude types up a quick message before sending it to you.

Jude:

hey it’s me Jude.

Nerves grew as he waits for you to reply.

(Y/n pov) You on the other end were out with some friends when you got the dm. Your eyebrows knitted as you read the dm.

Excusing yourself you walk to the bathroom to respond to him in peace.

You:

Jude what do you want?

You pace back and forth as you wait for a reply. A minute or two went by before you receive something from him.

Jude:

y/n I need to talk to you

You:

about what?

Jude:

I want you back

You laughed unamused by him. He has to be joking.

You:

I have a boyfriend Jude and you know that

Jude:

I don’t gaf about your boyfriend y/n. Meet me at the Sushi place we went to when we were together. 7pm

With that Jude ends the conversation. After months he wants you back? After he broke up with you? No way he was serious.

Should you even go? Was Jude even worth your time and energy?

After debating over it in your head, you came to the conclusion that you’ll go only to hear him out, nothing more. You were happily in a relationship with someone else so why should you run back to him

You got dressed, putting on something causal(seeing how this wasn’t anything to get dressed up for) and made your way over to the restaurant. The whole way there you were nervous, nervous as to what was about to happen.

When you got to the restaurant you found a booth in the back. You waited a few minutes then Jude showed up. Your stomach twist and turned seeing him walking over to you.

“Hey.” He says, sitting down across from you. “hi.. so..” you sigh. “you want talk.”

Jude nods, “yep. I’ve been thinking about these past few months without you and I got to say they’re horrible without you.”

You hum. “ I guess you had trouble exploring your options? Sucks doesn’t it?”

“look y/n, I know I fucked up and told you I wanted to go out there and date other women, but I realize I don’t. I want you and only you ok?”

“Jude I have a boyfriend. You met him and I’ve told you that earlier.” You said running out of patience with the man in front of you.

“I already told you I don’t give a fuck about your little boyfriend.” Jude exhales loudly, falling back against his seat.

“Jude this conversation is going nowhere.”

“ok, how about this. I spend one last night with you. Your little boyfriend doesn’t have to know, just me and you. That’s it.”

“I’m not going to cheat Jude.” You roll your eyes at him and get up. You’re so ready for this conversation to be over.

Jude called out your name, but you kept walking until you were outside. Eventually he caught up to you and tugged you gently by the wrist.

“y/n” Jude backs you up against the wall. “come on.” He looks down at you with eyes full of lust. You bring your lips in between your teeth as your eyes flicker between Jude’s lips and eyes.

You hate the effect he has on you.

“fuck.. fine.” You whispered into the space between you two. “but just one night ok?”

Jude inches closer to your lips and nods. “ok.”

He’s kissing you in seconds. Your breath hitched as he moves his lips with yours.

You can feel his hands snaking around to your ass where he squeezes and pulls you close to him. Due to him wearing sweats you can feel how hard he was.

“We can’t do anything out here.” You mumbled breathlessly when you pull away.

Jude takes your hand pulling you to the car. He opens the back door for you letting you get in first before he got in.

Once the door shut behind him, you climb on his lap and kiss him. He lips were like a drug, You just couldn’t get enough.

Jude’s tongue slip into your mouth grazing yours. You took the opportunity to reach into his sweats and massage his bulge the you were sure was painful.

When you touch him over his boxers he pulls away from your lips with a hiss.

“you don’t know how bad I missed you baby.”

You looked at him watching as he throws his head back against the seat. You felt a little powerful seeing what you were doing to him.

You climb off his lap and pull his sweats and boxers down. His cock sprung free. The red leaking tip made your sex pulse between your legs. You couldn’t help but squeeze them.

You sat down on the open seat beside him, you lean down bringing Jude to your mouth.

“Fuck.” Jude mutters. His hand went to the back of your head as you took him in your mouth.

You took Jude as far as you could and used your hand for the rest of him. Tears leaked from your eyes as you gagged on him, but you didn’t come up for air until you were breathless.

“shit baby you’re so good.” Jude said as he brushed a few strands of hair from your face.

You went back in, swirling your tongue over the tip of him before taking him in your mouth. You bob your head up and down gagging and moaning each time he hits the back of your throat.

What would you boyfriend think if he knew what you were doing to your ex right now? He would not be pleased that’s for sure.

But right now you could careless about him. All you could think about was Jude.

“o- ok sto- stop!”

You pulled away from Jude. “what?”

“I wanna cum in that pretty pussy.” He says.

You pull your jeans down and toss them on the ground of the car.

You straddle Jude again. You position his tip at your entrance before you pushed down slightly.

You both moan at the feeling of your bodies connecting.

Your hands find Jude’s shoulder for support while he stretched you out.

When you lift your hips your eyes roll into the back of your head. You try to hide your moan but it was quite useless. He just felt so good filling you.

“that’s right. Ride me baby.”

Jude guided you by your hips. You slow movement quickly turns fast.

The windows of the car got foggy. Your moans and Jude’s groans fill the space like a symphony..

“god Jude you feel so good.”

“yeah? You like me in this pussy huh? Your boyfriend can’t satisfy you as much as I can, can he?”

You nod. It was definitely the truth. Your boyfriend was great, but not Jude great. You can no longer count on your fingers how much you faked an orgasm with him.

“Cum on my dick.” Jude lips attached to your neck sucking softly. You knew he was going to leave a hickey, but you couldn’t care in the moment. The feeling was too good.

The pit in your stomach tightens up and your action becomes sloppy.

“Jude, I’m so close.” You whine. He looks at you. “I know baby, I know. Let go.”

A few more slams of your hips and you were cumming. Jude wasn’t far behind you. He buried his face in your neck when he cums.

You were breathless. That was the best sex you’ve had in a while and you hate to admit it.

You climb off Jude lap and sat down beside him. You pulled your clothes back on and tried your best to fix your appearance.

“Ok, you happy now?” you ask Jude.

He nods. “yeah”

“ok well I guess this is goodbye now.”

You open the door getting out. Before shutting the door you looked back at him. “good bye Jude.”

--

A few weeks has gone by since you had sex with Jude. You were thinking about it often so much it was starting to fuck up your relationship.

Eventually you decide to end your relationship with your boyfriend. The guilt of cheating was eating you alive and you couldn’t continue being with him knowing you were unfaithful.

You were sitting on your Couch scrolling through Instagram.

You hate what you were about to do.

You went to Jude’s dms.

You:

Hey Jude it’s y/n. Can we talk?

[velvetmud]

Stanley Kubrick on film

joel finds a camera and expresses his desire to make a smut film.

warning(s): 18+ explicit, daddy kink, smoking weed, also lots of dirty talk, dirty things

silver fox two decades into outbreak!joel where cameras are a rare thing to come across but somehow weed isn’t. not a request just another fun little thing that kinda came out of nowhere. still working on some other stuff ! why he always comes out so dirty in everything i start to write is beyond me :)

-

the smell of smoke, sweat, and sex filled the air of the quaint room.

the stereo’s playing a mixtape from some romantic-alternative nineties albums on shuffle. joel bought a quarter ounce of weed from one of Tommy’s friends. went as far as lighting all kinds of candles and placing them throughout on various countertops. as soon as you walked in you couldn’t help yourself from grabbing him and laughing, “are you trying to fuck me or set me on fire?”

he grumbled about this being one of his trying efforts to woo you. while you relax and unwind together sharing the first spliff, he pointedly mentions how he found a camera while he was going out salvaging for stupid goodies with Ellie that afternoon. screen uncracked, quality like new. even the battery was at a lucky hundred percent. he wanted to take advantage of a lingering fantasy now that he’d been presented with an open opportunity.

it wasn’t until a few hours later, fucking and devouring you every way you’ve always liked, he managed to assure you only his and your eyes get to re-watch the hypothetical smutty tape.

reality also was that you got high and felt too fucked out to put up a fight anymore, and he needed to savor it all on film.

it wasn’t necessarily a hypothetical anymore.

joel’s hungry expression hides behind the camera lens as his thumb clicked to capture your each and every movement. he went on to start video recording after a little while of obtaining a lengthy photo gallery.

while he’s puffing on the roach end of another joint, he blows the smoke out from the side of his mouth. puts it down and starts to focus solely on you, ashing whatever’s left. he could see you were already smoked out over half an hour ago anyway. once he gets his fill of watching you tease yourself, rubbing your tits, thighs and legs up and down, he coaches you into opening up a little more.

“yeah, yeah. don’t be afraid to spread those lips apart—just like that, atta girl. gorgeous.”

he zooms in on your naked legs until the screen shows nothing but your drooling, freshly fucked pussy into frame. still pulsing around nothing, leaking the cum that’s yours and his combined inside.

sweat sticks to his forehead and his hair is comparable to a birds nest at this point. he’s hard again, even if he’s drained his dick in you several times in different places earlier. he easily slips into the role of film director, starts telling you how to move and what to say.

“gonna play this back and watch it whenever I miss you. wanna thank you for doing this, baby,” he sighs. runs his hands up your legs with admiration. “let’s see that pussy, yeah. spread ‘em nice and wide, wanna see.” two of his fingers scissor your puffy lips open. his thick spend slowly starts running down your leg.

“fuck, that’s gorgeous. looks so pretty when you’re all used up. full of my cum.” he already knows future him will easily finish less than two minutes into this. “tell the camera who fucked this sweet pussy.”

”you did daddy…” you answer, shy pink cheeks stuffed into the pillow, turned over to the side.

“mmm it’s okay, baby girl. don’t gotta be shy. you know I’ll always tell you exactly how bad I want you.” he breathes, leaning his head down to yours to hold your chin as he spoke. the camera’s still in joel’s grip. it picks up the soft sounds of his rough voice reassuring you. gentle and smiling. he just wants to watch you have fun for him, over and over, on repeat. this was the best solution.

he gets the camera and puts your body back in frame. he thinks he’s turned into Stanley Kubrick as he moves it around to get different lighting and angles of your pussy. once he’s found the most lewd, up-close shot possible, he keeps the lens focused.

“so go ‘head baby. since we’re playing show and tell, go on showing and telling the camera everything you begged daddy to do to you.” he instructed, keeping his eyes glued on you through the square little screen.

you’re grinning ear to ear, still flushed under the spotlight of attention he’s putting on you.

“I…I begged daddy to cum inside me.”

“that’s right, sweet girl. what else? did it feel good, feeling daddy fuck you hard like that?”

he’s stroking himself in a tight fist now, your leftover juices still lubricating his shaft. now the camera’s framed on the two of you, eagerly pleading and teasing with him. you’re harsh when you slip two of your fingers inside, watching him with an open mouth.

“yeah, mmhm. I see that look in your eyes. needin’ my cock again. this,” he holds the tip right up to your lips, making sure the camera sees. “is yours baby. could fuck and suck it all you want. whenever you need.”

he moves the camera higher to capture a nice bird’s eye view as you suckle down on a mouthful of his tip, running your fingers through the milky evidence still pooling between your legs.

a warning pops up on the screen, something about a low battery. joel curses under his breath then picks up speed with his hips, reaching down with the other hand to find your clit. he holds his breath while looking at the sight, delighted by the visual. he starts to feel the build up as he remembers that he gets to re-watch this over, and over, and over again.

“gonna have to go a little faster baby, yeah. just like that, that’s perfect.”

-

masterlist + buy me a ko-fi

[bimobuddy]

As You Wish

SFW Hazbin TK Fic

Lee!Vaggie, Ler!Charlie

Writing this because I'm going to go see the Princess Bride with some friends today, we're dressing up in Medieval style clothing, and one of the actors will actually be there, I'm so freaking excited y'all

Edit: Posting this the day after, my friend ended up picking me up early and I had to stop writing, and then I couldn't finish when I got home because I had a migraine from the overstimulation, but it was fun as hell

This sort of combines Pilot!Vaggie and Canon!Vaggie because I wanted a reason to include her being alive in the 90s to have watched the movie, so this will have some❗Spoilers❗ I know it doesn't make complete sense with the show, but please be nice to me I'm trying 💀

Summary: Vaggie shows Charlie the movie 'Princess Bride,' though the longer the movie goes on, the more she notices her princess getting squirmy and restless, which is a sign that chaos is about to ensue.

Charlie sat on their bed, bouncing excitedly. Vaggie had told her she had a surprise for her, and to go wait for her in their room. The princess didn't know what was in store for her, but she was having a lot of trouble containing her excitement.

When the angel finally did enter the room, she had a small box in her hand and a bag over her shoulder. "Okay, I would have shown you this sooner, but it's hard to get Earth items in Hell. Lucky for us though, I paid a Hellhound to get us a copy of one of my favorite movies." Vaggie held up a VHS tape excitedly. Or as excited as she could express.

Charlie practically leapt off the bed and rushed over, excitedly holding her girlfriend's arm as she bounced. "What is it?" She asked, tilting her head like a confused puppy. "This, Charlie, is a VHS tape, it's how movies were played when I was still alive. The entire thing is recorded on a tape in this box." She answered, waving the tape a little.

She walked more into their room and set the bag down. "I also asked Alastor to summon us a VCR-" She reached into her bag and pulled out a bigger, odd looking box. The cables attached themselves to the TV on the dresser. Instead of buttons, little eyes popped opened and looked up at Vaggie, the slot opening as well, showing sharp teeth inside.

"Are... They supposed to look like that?" Charlie asked, looking over Vaggie's shoulder. The angel sighed, "No, but you know how Alastor is." She smiled a little at Charlie, "Go ahead and get comfy while I figure this out." Charlie grinned and clapped her hands a little, running off to change into pajamas.

Vaggie went to slide the tape into the VCR, only for the thing to start snapping its jaws eagerly for the tape. Worried it would snap it in half, she grabbed its upper jaw to keep it from biting down, and quickly slid the tape in before letting go. The VCR swallowed it, closing its eyes momentarily before opening them again as it started a low, familiar click and whirring sound that Vaggie didn't even know she had missed.

When Charlie came back out and pearched herself up on the bed, Vaggie tilted her head and looked back down at the VCR. "It doesn't have any buttons... Uh... Play?" On command, the TV turned on and started up the movie, signaling to the angel to join her girlfriend on the bed. As previews for other movies started playing, Charlie took Vaggie's hand.

"So... What are we watching?" She asked Vaggie mentally facepalmed. "Oh! Right- It's called the Princess Bride, it's great. So there's this Princess who's in love-" "*Gasp* I'm a Princess in love!!" "*chuckle* With a farm boy named Westley- Oh you know what, just watch the movie, don't ask me to spoil it!" She grinned, gently pinching Charlie around the waist, making her squeak and smack her hand away.

As the movie played, Vaggie found herself leaning forward a little, sitting criss-cross, watching the movie the same way she had when she had first seen it as a kid. The only difference being this time she had someone leaning their full weight against her.

By the time Prince Humperdinck was knocking Westley out, Vaggie felt Charlie start to shift. And shift again. Then a big sigh. This was a pattern she was used to, that also caused her stomach to flutter with anticipation, knowing exactly what Charlie was about to do. "Oh no, don't you dare, Charlie Morningstar-" "Whaaaat, I'm not dohoing anythihing~" Charlie lied, her arms already wrapping around Vaggie's waist.

Vaggie found herself trying not to giggle along with her. "Yehes you are you liar! How are you even bored, this is like the best movie humans have ever made!" "I'm not bored! I've just got energy! And you're right there, how can I resist??" Before Vaggie could argue, Charlie had slipped a hand under her shirt to gently scritch-scratch at her tummy, something she knew the angel couldn't stand.

"Chahaharlie!!" She leaned her head back against the Princess' chest and giggled, her eyes squeezed shut as she kicked out, kicking the sheets into a messy pile at the foot of the bed.

Charlie grinned and started peppering kisses into her girlfriend's neck, causing her giggles to go a higher pitch while she scrunched her shoulders up. "Chahahaharlie nohoho- eek! Quihihihit!"

Vaggie flipped over, trying to wrestle her down, only for Charlie to pull out her demon strength unfairly, pinning her down on her tummy. Charlie sat on her back and started to tickle around her shoulder blades.

"NOHO YOU- AH NOHOHO! CHAHAHAHARLIE!" Vaggie pleaded before buring her face into the sheets to muffle her shrieking laughter and squealing. Her elbows were pinned to her sides and her hand rapidly smacked the bed, unable to handle the sensation.

-FWOOSH-

Charlie couldn't hold back her happy giggles as Vaggie's wings popped out. Ever since she found out, ever since she saw them for the first time, she fell in love with them. She thought they were beautiful. Even through their rocky moment after she found out, when she saw Vaggie approach her with her wings out, she thought they were gorgeous.

She gave the angel beneath her a moment to catch her breath before she ran her fingers through the feathers, earning more muffled squeals while her wings fluttered and tried to fold back up. But the moment they were raised even just slightly, the Princess slipped her hands underneath to scritch at the 'pits' of her wings.

Vaggie immediately cackled loudly into the bed, her legs kicking and drumming behind her. Her wings, no longer under her control, flapped wildly. She turned her face to the side, no longer muffling her laugh. "AHH HAHAHAHA! CHAHA- CHARLIHIE NOITSSOBAD PLEHEHEASE!"

Charlie was already planning on stopping but when she got a face full of feathers as a wing slapped her in the face, she knew it was time to stop. And so she did, getting off of her and laying back down, grinning, proud of herself. When Vaggie didn't immediately join her, she reached over and dragged her over, kissing the top of her head sweetly as she did so.

With their blankets kicked onto the floor now, Vaggie made use of her wings, draping them over Charlie and herself. She looked at the TV and noticed the movie was almost over.

".... Can we restart it?" She asked, looking back up at the princess. Her Princess.

Charlie smiled, pressing their foreheads together.

"As you wish."

[softichill]

The Sounds of Nightmares unofficial transcript

Chapter 1 - The Workers in the Walls

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

[Click]

[Shifting, Otto clears his throat]

Otto: Yesterday evening marked my first true session with the girl. Signs of significant disorder are greater than I initially thought. Her imagination is… vast. But one phrase in particular has become an earworm of sorts. 

[Click, this time of a tape being inserted]

Recording of Noone: “He was right in front of me breathing hard… That’s what I remember most. The awful smell, like when sausage goes bad.”

[Click, the tape stops]

Otto: Scent while dreaming is a rarity. An indication of sensory transcendence. She may be a fine candidate for a neurological study… but her health must come first. [Sigh] There are undoubtedly other details I missed in her recount. 

Otto: [Deep breath] From the top, then. [The tape begins to rewind] Sleep be damned tonight. 

[Intro plays]

[Click]

Otto: This is the Counselor. Herein are my preliminary case notes for tape #54, session #1, patient #1220… [mumbling] referring to children by numbers… [deep breath, normal] Our relationship goes beyond mere ethics, so I can leave that practice to the heartless quacks on the upper floors. But to remain professional, I’ll use a moniker the girl has given herself… Noone. (A/N: pronounced like noon)

[quiet tapping as a drink is poured]

Otto: Noone has been in CPI care for a fortnight. Given her rather remarkable medical history, her mental state seems relatively unremarkable. [stirring his drink] She finds herself in my ward due to worsening, though not recurring, nightly afflictions. Parasomnia isn’t uncommon among patients; not to imply she’s unworthy of treatment, only that there are others worse off. 

[Otto shifts in his seat and sips his drink before setting it down]

Otto: Noone also displays signs of mild trauma. As such, Nightmare Disorder is possible. Given her diffidence, the focus for this session is to build rapport. I’m hopeful Noone will open up and we’ll learn what lies inside that little head. 

[Ceramic clicking, Otto says “Oh!” at the sound of papers being knocked over. More ceramic, the audio cuts]

[A door closes]

Otto: Take the big chair, Noone. Sit, lie, saddle it like a horse, whatever you please. 

[Otto pulls out paper as Noone sits down. The chair creaks]

[quiet jazz starts to play]

Otto: How’s that?

Noone: …fine I guess. 

Otto: [Walking to his chair] That look on your face says there’s more on your mind. 

Noone: It’s… it’s like the music I used to hear through the walls. In our old apartment. Before we moved into the fancy house. 

Otto: Would you like to talk about that? Your old apartment?

Noone: No, counselor. 

Otto: Alright. An easier question to start. How are you feeling today?

Noone: …Bit sad. 

Otto: For any reason in particular?

Noone: …Um… the red flower… mum and dad left. It went all wrinkled. I tried lifting a petal and… it broke off. But, then I saw why- little crawlies, everywhere underneath the dirt. 

Otto: Aphids? How unpleasant. [shift] Must be hard, here all alone. That wasn’t just a flower to you, was it?

Noone: No, counselor. 

Otto: Y-Your parents only want you to feel like you again. And we’ll see to that! One day at a time. 

[Otto writes something]

Otto: Have you been sleeping?

Noone: Yes, counselor. 

Otto: Call me Otto. Sleeping well?

Noone: …Yes. 

Otto: Noone? This is a place of honesty. The truth, please. 

Noone: …Fine. Middle of the night, I keep waking. 

Otto: And are you perspiring?

Noone: …um…

Otto: Sweating?

Noone: Oh. Uh, yes. And, my heart beats like there’s a- pecking bird in my chest. 

Otto: Did these nightmares coincide with the onset of your sickness?

Noone: No. O-only after. 

Otto: And, do you remember your nightmares or do they disappear come morning?

Noone: I remember. Everything. 

Otto: [pause, shifting] …Would you be alright to tell me about them? Now, or, later?

Noone: Yes. Um… The one I had last night, it’s still here. The feeling. But, may I have some juice? My head’s light, and mum says it helps. 

Otto: (amused) I’m not sure that’s true. Regardless, you may. 

[audio cuts]

[audio resumes. Noone is sipping a juice box.]

Otto: I see you eyeing my painting. I’ve had it since I was a boy. “The Zahir’s Gaze”, it’s titled. 

Noone: Why is it so- blurry?

Otto: It’s a hidden image. The trick is to unfocus your eyes. Try it!

[short pause]

Otto: There! Can you make it out now?

Noone: …no. 

Otto: I’ve got an idea. Keep your eyes on the painting- let your mind wander. Meanwhile, you can tell me your dream! If you’ve finished your juice. 

Noone: [sipping] I have. 

Otto: From the beginning, then. 

[pause]

Noone: …It started when I woke up. Somewhere I didn’t belong. 

Otto: Describe this place, please. 

Noone: Everything was white. Only slowly I realized snow was falling on a field. The view was peaceful looking out from so high up. Like I was… one. With the cold. 

Otto: You felt this cold?

Noone: Not like the counties in winter, but, more like watching someone who is chilled. Around me, but not… in me. 

[the music quietly stops. Ambience for the dream begins]

Noone: I turned away from the window, which was only a hole in the stone wall of the curved passageway, that stretched on a long ways. This- odd feeling, told me to get up. But I couldn’t stand because the ceiling was so low. I crawled ahead and… if not for the tiniest bit of light I would have fallen. Another passageway appeared on the floor. Its edges throbbing in the dark. Suddenly I- I heard a clinking from below. 

Noone: That same feeling told me I was lost inside a giant. A huge one made out of stone, and the only way out was to keep going through its veins. I climbed into the pitch dark,

[Dream!Noone gasps, the sound of sliding plays]

Noone: And immediately began sliding down the icy wetness, going and going, faster and faster. I thought the slide would never end and just- and-

[Dream!Noone grunts as she hits the ground. The sliding stops]

Noone: It shot me out. 

Otto: …Did it hurt?

Noone: …Not like when you fall for real. 

[footsteps]

Noone: I can see what it is now! The painting! A-a tiger, and two moons. 

Otto: That’s not quite right. 

[Noone walks back]

Noone: (with interest) I’ve never seen a tiger before. 

Otto: Keep trying! Remember to unfocus. Continue, as you wish. 

[pause]

Noone: An orange glowing came from a candle. But the light didn’t reach the room’s corners. A tiny hole had been cut out of the stone beside me. “The snow,” I thought. “How nice it would be to watch fall again.” I look through, but there was no snow. [ambience picks up] Only a room, brimming with glass jars. Light danced through them, coming from a doorway on the opposite side. Until… a figure stepped through it. 

Noone: This HUGE man. Wore a long coat and fishing hat. His face kind of… dripped as he watched me. Then he was gone. W- He was an.... I-I can’t remember. It’s the only thing I can’t remember. 

Otto: Could it have been someone you know, your father perhaps?

Noone: (immediately) No. This man doesn’t belong to our world. 

Otto: I don’t quite follow. 

Noone: That’s just the feeling he gave. 

Otto: You keep mentioning this “feeling”. Can you try to explain?

Noone: You can’t understand! Not unless you were there- you just can’t!

Otto: It’s alright, Noone. We don’t have to talk about him. Relax. Breathe. 

[Noone takes 3 exaggerated, slow breaths]

[ambience gets slightly louder. It’s faint, clicking machinery]

Noone: Turning from the hole, I spotted an exit on the far wall. That’s where the clinking was the loudest. I started towards it, when a shadow ran out from the corner, that of a child. I shouted “Hey!”

[Dream!Noone: Hey! Where are we?]

Noone: “Where are we?” But, quiet as a mouse, he climbed through the pulsing exit. And carelessly I followed. 

[Dream!Noone grunts as she hops through the exit]

[Machinery gets louder]

Noone: The room over was bigger. And the child was gone. All over the walls and floors, were more pulsing passages. Like living ant tunnels. All kinds of springs laid about, and little oil cans and strange tools. 

[Dream!Noone gasps]

Noone: Suddenly, footsteps. Approaching, matching the rhythm of the clinking. [sound of a wooden crate] Knowing I didn’t belong I hid behind a wooden box. 

[a hoard of small footsteps alongside the machinery]

Noone: Peeking up, I saw other small shadows entering the room. They step by each other silently. Most passed into different doors, but two stayed behind, searching for the springs. They were not children. Not at all. Even in dim light they remain shadows. Things not quite there, as if forgotten, not wanting to be seen. 

[Things clicking, cracking, and moving around]

Noone: They held nasty tools and… their empty faces showed they weren’t very bright. Both stood, looked down a passageway… and jumped. 

[Dream!Noone gets up and follows them]

Noone: With nowhere to go I did the same, climbing to the platform below. 

[Dream!Noone lands. The machinery is even louder now]

Noone: I finally saw what was making all that noise. Golden, spinning wheels. Fat ones, small ones, skinny ones, and they went down so deep I couldn’t see the end! I didn’t know what they were until that faraway feeling came back and told me. 

Noone: They were gears. With- teeth which locked perfectly into one another, clicking on and on in a song that never stopped. There were a hundred-hundred of the dull little shadows, working to keep the mechanisms going. Felt… without their doing, the gears would surely stop. And the giant would break apart stone-by-stone... But as I leaned over the edge, distracted, my foot must’ve knocked a wrench. 

[a quick clink. Dream!Noone gasps]

[the wrench falls a long way down]

Noone: All the shadows stared up. And a few begin climbing my way. They move separately, but… as one. [Dream!Noone breathing quickly] I panicked and tucked between a set of levers, in the tight space my dress got caught [Dream!Noone grunts] on the tooth of a massive gear, pulled me up and around until my dress tore [tearing fabric, Dream!Noone yelping] shooting me onto a pipe below, where I lost my grip only to hit another platform. 

[Dream!Noone lands, breathing heavily]

Noone: The shadows stopped chasing me, working again as… the yank* took the piece of my dress, now stuck between two gears, causing all the others to slow. 

Noone: While they were bothered, I took the chance to escape. 

[Dream!Noone running, machinery fades out]

Noone: The wall in front of me went… went down and around, f-forever and ever. Along with the mechanisms. I grabbed onto a rod, sliding on, when a big creak [metal groan] groaned above, and the gears went right back to singing their song. 

[machinery starts again]

Noone: The ripped fabric floated down before me, passing by a tiny crack in the stone. Painful cries came through it. [faint echoey scream] I shouldn’t have wanted to know what was on the other side, but… I did. 

[more screaming]

Noone: A small room with chains covering the floor. And 3 identical nun-like dresses, freshly pressed, hanging by a bed. Then, the chains jangled [Chains jingling, man gasping], and my heart stopped. [Man groans] A frail body slumped against the wall, a chain around his neck. He was right in front of me breathing hard… That’s what I remember most. The awful smell, like when sausage goes bad. 

Otto: Hold on a minute, Noone. [Noone gasps. Ambience suddenly stops] You distinctly smelt his breath?

Noone: Not his breath. Him. So rotten, it still stings my nose now. 

Otto: How certain are you?

Noone: You told me to tell the truth, no? I am. 

[Otto quickly writing]

Noone: Do you still want to hear the rest of my nightmare?

[Otto still writing]

Noone: Otto?

Otto: Hm? O-oh. Apologies. My mind was divided, and that’s not fair to you. 

Noone: [quiet sigh] Anyways. 

Noone: Looking through that crack, I realized something. (whisper) I was inside the walls. Like a rat. On the other side was an entire world. (normal) And everything got… w-worse from there. 

[very quiet ticking]

Noone: Lower and lower I climbed until I had gone- down so deep, that there was nothing but steam and darkness. And louder ticking, back, and forth. Back, and forth. Wanting to give up I sat listening. 

[ticking is more noticeable] 

Noone: I’d nearly fallen asleep, when suddenly a small shape crawled out from inside the wall below. “Another Worker came for me,” I thought. But… when they looked up… I saw their eyes. A child. For certain, this time. And… their hair was covered in goo, which made it hard to tell if they were a boy or a girl. Still, I climbed down, full of energy. 

[Dream!Noone climbing down]

Noone: Nearly the amount I used to have. 

Noone: We stood in silence, a moment. Stuck in their hair was… black liquid moving like smoke. 

Noone: “What’s in your-” [Dream!Noone at the same time] I started, [child shushing] but they put a hand over my mouth. Not until they pointed at the wall, did I understand why. Its another crack, led to yet another chamber. 

[Dream!Noone and child walking over. Metallic hammering starts up]

Noone: It was a hideous workshop. All around were… half-made… projects? Built from wood and metal, with all kinds of straps and cranks. Their shapes made my chest tighten. A collection of… masks was- on the shelves with screws and spikes on them, positioned to fit perfectly into a mouth! 

Noone: A tall woman bent over a new project, [faint humming] wearing a familiar dress. Long heavy chains coming out under its tail. [Chains scraping, more humming] She moaned, enjoying herself. I could feel she’d been at it for hours. Her presence alone told that she was the keeper of this stone giant. Of the world beyond the walls. 

Noone: Turning to a pile of scraps… I saw her face. Equally… old and young, and her s-skin stretched back so tight that… only her eyes seemed human. I wanted so badly to know what she was building, and to scream all the same…

Noone: But before I could do either my new friend pulled me away. They pointed up. 

Noone: From between the planks, a shadow studied us. The child pulled my arm but it was already too late. The Worker leapt down besides me, inspecting my body like a tool, reaching out with its wrench. The child pushed me away, [the sound of burning] letting a sliver of light shine out from the workshop to hit the shadow. Faster than fast, it tucked back into darkness, [sound stops] desperate to keep hidden. 

[pause]

Otto: Noone, why have you stopped?

Noone: I’m thinking. …The next bit is hard to describe. The nightmare- it shifted. 

[ambience picks up, earlier sound of machinery]

Noone: Steam reached around us. And we came to a place at the bottom of the gears. Between the walls. 

[whoosh, tick]

[whoosh, tock]

[whoosh, tick]

Noone: In front of us, a long pendulum whooshed back and forth. 

[whoosh, tick]

[whoosh, tock]

Noone: My friend grabbed hold as it swung by. I let it go past one, [tick], two, [tock], three times before finding the courage to do the same. We climbed as the pendulum rocked left and right, making my head dizzy. “Just a little more,” I repeated to myself, until my friend reached out a hand to pull me up. 

[Both Dream!Noone and child grunt as she’s pulled up]

Noone: We’d made it. Finally, the center of the clock. The room was round with a spiral staircase, and a machine made of little metallic fingers, tapping a violent rhythm. 

Noone: The ceiling was a white- clock face, but… all the numbers were wrong. 

Noone: We immediately ran up the stairs [footsteps] and at the top, we stepped out into a courtyard. 

[Dream!Noone and child breathing, stepping on grass. Machinery and ticking fades out]

Noone: My body began shaking as I heard them. [Faint screaming] Shouts and shrieks of pain. All I could do was stare up at the circular walls, which I had just been inside. This was the true building. There were a million rooms like the second one I peered into, all the way up, with- hands and limbs reaching out from between the bars that kept them locked in. My heart pounded like one of them. A Prisoner, trying to get free. 

[Screaming and shrieking continues]

Noone: I shouted “Wait, please!”

[Dream!Noone: Wait! Please!]

Noone: But my friend was across the courtyard. Then, a jingling. The tall woman jumped down from above [jingling, thump] and with thumping steps, she went after my friend. A chain leapt out beneath her dress, like a snake. It caught their leg and the woman dragged the child through the snow, kicking and yelling. 

[child struggling]

Noone: My friend scared to tears [child: Help!] yelled for help, and the woman spotted me. She began plodding my way and fear froze my feet. Getting closer and closer and all I could think was “Who brought me here, and why was I made to know these secrets?!” [chains jangling] 

Noone: With skin so tight her mouth opened only a sliver with blackened teeth inside, hungry for something! …Something that swelled inside me. 

[all ambience cuts off]

Noone: …Then I woke up. 

Otto: …That’s… awful, Noone. I’m sorry. The woman in particular sounds… disturbing. 

Noone: Yes. But, she didn’t scare me most. Not after I woke up. It was the Workers. 

Otto: Hm… because they were mindless?

Noone: No. Because they were hidden. Nobody knew they existed… that’s how I feel sometimes. Since getting the water sickness, (increasing distress) as if things are in my body but instead of making me tick they’re killing me, like the bugs in the flower pot- Ugh, I can feel them in my head!!!

Otto: Noone. Listen to me. I’ll do everything within the limits of my command to help you, but there’s nothing bad inside you. Nothing. 

Noone: …um…alright. 

Otto: [pause] I have… one more question, and I think it’s enough for your first day, okay?

Noone: Okay. 

Otto: Noone, have you ever heard of mutual dreaming?

Noone: Mutual dreaming?

Otto: Sharing the… experience with another person. 

Noone: How could what’s in my head be in someone else’s head? And who would I share it with?

Otto: Questions that have hounded my outer colleagues for years. Your perception of temperature and smell while dreaming is sometimes thought to be an indicator of this transpersonal phenomenon. While I’m not convinced of its ontological validity, I’ve longed to study a case like yours. Unfortunately- I’ve only known one other person to exhibit this faculty, years ago-

Noone: Who? Were they like me?

Otto: …My… (quietly) beloved Cici**... uh- not quite. In any case, my ambitions fell off, I… I lost sight, of… many things. But you’ve stimulated a part of me nearly forgotten. 

Noone: Oh. I think I see it now, Otto. 

Otto: Yes! That’s right! We’re in this together. 

Noone: No. The painting. 

Otto: Oh. 

Noone: It’s a map. Of stars and two circles around it. 

Otto: Yes! Good! An astrolabe, in fact. 

Noone: Astrolabe?

Otto: An ancient instrument, used to locate positions in time and space. Now, surely, you’re exhausted-

Noone: I don’t want to go to my room. To sleep. Will… will you walk me back?

Otto: Of course! And we can’t forget your nightly confectionary. [the sound of wrappers] Here now, take your pick. 

[Wrapper crinkling]

Otto: Sweets for my sweet. 

[ceramic clinking]

[click]

[Outro plays]

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

*It's a little hard to tell what word she says here

**I have no idea if this is how it's spelled

[astroboots]

SEX, LIES AND VIDEOTAPES

Summary: Santiago and you make a sextape for Frankie.

Pairing: Santiago x female reader (you) (hints of Frankie)

Content: edging (you know the drill with this bastard by now), peak brat behaviour, overstimulation, voyeurism.

Wordcount: 5.9k words

Homecoming Universe | Astroboot’s Masterlist

It starts the way so many things start between you and Santiago. It was a stupid idea, and Santiago talked you into it.

"Do you want to make a sex tape?"

You blink dumbly at Santiago, mouth agape. Your phone screen is still warm against your thumb from when you clicked the red button to end your call with Frankie not two seconds ago.

Your husband is out of town in Jacksonville, in a shitty hotel room they've set him up with, 10 minutes off base. Poor Frankie had sounded absolutely miserable when you spoke to him on the phone and the idea of sending him something to perk him up, a flirty text to rile him up, maybe a risque photo did cross your mind but a sex tape might be a little bit out of your depth.

You stare up at Santiago. His beautiful full lips, curling into a smile, eyes glinting with that trademark mischief that is the prelude for talking you into doing pretty much anything for him.

It's been that way since you were kids. There's never been one of Santiago's cockamamie plan that he hasn't managed to get you signed onto. Sweet smile and even sweeter talk. Car salesmen have nothing on Santiago.

“Frankie must be feeling lonely by himself in that hotel, we should send him something to make him feel less lonely," he says.

Santiago leans down, until his arms are caging you in, face close until the tip of his nose brushes against your cheeks, and that small contact makes you tingle all over.

“You miss him too right?”

Despite the self-satisfied smirk there, the sentiment is sincere. Still, you've never been one to make things easy for Santiago either.

"Santiago. I'm not Kim Kardashian. Don't be ridiculous."

He tips his head, considering you, and Santiago clearly hears the word that you did not say. You didn't say no. You prevaricated the way you often do when it's not that you don't want to: you like to needle him, for him to plead and ask nicely. For Santiago to pull out the red carpet treatment.

"How pretty do I have to ask?" he says, smiling wider than ever.

That is how you find yourself in your bedroom, not twenty minutes later. Wearing old sweatpants and one of Frankie's softworn T-shirts that you've spilled some soy and Sriracha sauce on earlier at lunch. It is, singlehandedly the worst outfit to memorialize on tape.

You tell Santiago as much, but he just sits you down on the mattress, ignoring that sentiment entirely with a half distracted, “don’t be ridiculous, that horny freak gets off on you wearing his ugly-looking clothes.”

Snorting with laughter, you sit down obediently as instructed because Santiago does make a valid point.

In front of you, Santiago is moving diagonally from the nightstand next to the bed to the footstool by the end of the bed, rearranging the furniture in the bedroom that would be "blocking the view," like he's playing furniture Tetris.

Then he comes back to stand in front of you, practically bouncing at the ball of his heels with excitement. You can feel the eagerness vibrate off of him, as he rolls ups his sleeves to his forearms. Eyes lighting up with that proud accomplished smile of his that makes butterflies swirl in your belly.

"You ready sweetheart?" he asks.

You shake your head amused, as you place your phone in Santiago's hand so that he can use it to record.

His smile drops, and it's like you've thrown a dark curtain over him, the luminous light in his eyes dimming, narrowing at the item in his hand, as if it's offended him, curled in half disgust.

"Phone?"

He says it with such indignity in his voice, it's as if you insulted his late mother by this very act.

"What's wrong with my phone?" you ask.

And boy do you immediately regret ever saying it. It launches Santiago into a game of twenty questions. Because suddenly, he's decided that he's the next Stanley Kubrick of homemade sex video tapes.

"Don’t we have something better?"

"Can't you go get Frankie's Go-Pro camera?"

"Don't you at least have a tripod?"

"How are we gonna get a good angle?"

"Is it okay if I move the reading lamp from the living room here to get better lighting?"

It would be childish to roll your eyes, but Santiago-Maria Luca Hernandez Garcia makes it really fucking hard not to sometimes. For someone who's never been able to properly frame himself in a selfie, he sure is high and mighty about his artistic camera skills all of a sudden. He only capitulates when you counter that a sex tape shot on a Go-Pro is a terrible idea. Nobody wants to watch themselves naked through a wide-angle lens.

This is so quintessential Santiago. He gets an idea into his head and will use every tool in his arsenal to convince you that his idea is a brilliant one. Then, once he has worn you out with his persuasion, and has you (begrudgingly) onboard, he will start bitching about every detail of the itinerary as if this wasn’t his project to begin with. You truly pity the people who had to be on his team for a group project back in school (which was almost always inevitably you).

It's enough to make you regret this whole endeavor before you've ever even started.

As you see him drag the armchair in the corner in front of the foot of the bed, and gingerly prop the phone against a cushion, the ridiculousness of this whole scenario washes over you. You’re not sure if you want to laugh or cry at the sheer stupidity that you’ve signed yourself up to.

Santiago fiddles with the phone on the chair, and you see him angling it until he's satisfied that it captures you in frame before he leans back up.

The tiny lens flickers red then green, and the bright light has you flashing hot then cold then hot all over again. Your nerves suddenly a lot shakier than they were just a few seconds ago when you were bantering with the man.

Staring at yourself framed within your phone screen, you feel observed, in a way that shakes your own confidence.

Your heart skips erratically and you remind yourself mentally that, it's fine, it’s just you and Santiago in here. But there's heat prickling your face. Your fingers feel numb, sweating hot and cold at the same time and you find yourself clenching and unclenching your fists into the sheets to get some sort of sensation back into your hands.

“Do you want to stop?”

There’s concern etched on the soft lines of his forehead, one finger already hovering over the stop button. Ready to give you an out, if you didn’t want this.

And it’s not that you don’t want to do this. It's just--

You shake your head. “No… Just--” You let out a stuttering laugh, rubbing your eyes with the back of your hand. They’re shaky.

“You nervous?”

You hadn’t realized until he said it, but yes, you are. You give him a small nod, and he moves towards you, until he's sitting at the end of the bed next to you, and takes both your trembling hands in his, drawing them to his lap, and rubs them like he's trying to kindle a fire with your fingers.

The nerves in you melt, air flowing back into your lungs, and you can feel yourself warm pleasantly out to your fingertips.

"That better cariño?"

His voice is nothing like the teasing arrogance when he had tried to talk you into this in the first place. Nothing like the haughty banter when he had been going off about lighting and camera equipment. It's soft and gentle, a voice that tells you he's going to pick you right up if you stumble.

You nod again, releasing the long breath you've been holding all this time.

“Santiago, this is really stupid.”

He chuckles, a bright little sound that’s entirely too boyish coming from a man nearing the end of his thirties, with pepper and salt scattered over his five o clock shadow. It’s what makes it all the more endearing.

“That’s okay,” he says.

He leans closer to you, until he's mouthing the line of your jaw with his soft kisses. Lips moulding over yours, as he playfully nips at your bottom lip. Then he leans even closer, pushing, until the firm weight of his chest has you flat against the mattress and you're willingly pinned down underneath those gorgeous brown eyes of his.

“You make me do real stupid shit too," he tells you.

Your head turns to the side, and you look at the bright lens of your phone staring blankly back at you.

Your face must look pudgy from this angle. Shit, you're not even wearing make up. Did you even properly brush your hair? This is so stupid.

“Don’t think of the camera,” Santiago tells you, pressing a succinct kiss to your lips. “Just focus on me, sweetheart.”

His hand comes to rest on your cheek and he guides you back to his lips, obscuring your line of sight. It's like you have Santiago-blinders on and all you can see is him.

Soft and steady, his hands skim down the sides of your ribs, sliding up the hem of your shirt before his fingertips is brushing up against your bare skin. It tingles, warmth spreading up your spine as Santiago, slowly drags up the fabric up and over the swell of your breasts. Exposing your naked skin to the colder temperature of the room, soothing you with his warm mouth as he presses it up along every inch of skin that is bared to him. Up, up, up, until he pulls the shirt off you completely, until all you're left is in your plain panties, while he is still fully dressed, and he grins down at you.

"Good?" he asks, and you nod back at him as he leans back to pull up his shirt and evens out the playing field for you.

One large hand rests flat against the inside of your thighs, and that helps, the comforting presence of him as he squeezes down firmly with just the right pressure that has tension melting out of you.

Santiago has beautiful hands really. His fingers are long and nimble. In another lifetime, one where his right hand weren't littered with scars left from four different fractures and calluses forged in live gunfire, one could have easily mistaken him for being a classically trained pianist with hands like that. Fingers that playfully flit across your goosebumped skin. Fingers that slide down your hips, along the plump flesh of the inside of your thighs before dipping inside, circling your clit.

You arch and buck into him, keen and writhing. At the first touch of him, he touches just the right note and everything goes blissfully silent in your head. You forget about the camera, forget about any qualms you had.

He goes slow.

Patient, might not be the word to describe Santiago, but he is taking his time. Letting his lips cover, nip and lick down every inch of you as they press downwards from the collar of your neck to the soft slope of your stomach, until you can feel the pleasant scratch of his afternoon stubble graze along the soft skin of your legs.

"Spread your legs for me, cariño," he murmurs as he presses his lips there until you oblige him, and do.

Both his hand comes to rest at your knees, hooking them over his shoulders. Anticipation beats hard beneath your chest.

He's so close to where you need him. Nose practically touching your clit, and you can feel your slick drip down and out of you. Your fingers clutch at the quilts underneath you, waiting, and still there's nothing.

Opening your eyes, you dip down your eyes to Santiago nestled between your legs to see what the hold up is. Then you see it, Santiago, grinning with a sly look into the camera.

"She's so pretty and wet, Frank," he murmurs, as his fingers spread your wet folds wide for himself.

Insufferable brat.

You cant your hips with an impatient scolding whine, "Santiago."

He chuckles, and shifts between your legs, "Sorry cariño, will get right on it. Just got distracted for a bit."

His head leans down again, then all you see is his curls, loose and wild at the top of his head, before you feel his tongue touching down. A long thorough lick that has heat crackling through your veins.

It’s nice and slow, agonizingly so. Different, from what you’re used to. Frankie gets lost in it—in you. Hungry, sloppy and messy in the best of ways. That brilliant, clever brain of his turns off and it’s like the only thing left that he’s able to focus on in this new world of his is to taste you and have you, free of rhyme and reason, acting on instincts alone, guided only by the vibrations of your body and the moans you make.

Santiago is the opposite of that. 

His tongue is more deliberate. Like he’s trying to learn every one of your responses and sear them into his memory. 

Long and graceful fingers, exploratory, like he's trying to map out every inch of you to make sure that there's no territory that's been missed.

Intentional.

Precise and measured.

Santiago is a man who plans every step ahead. Every touch, every whisper, every tantalizing lick. It's in the way he keeps his hands steady underneath your back when your legs start to strain from pushing up towards his mouth. The way he was wearing your favorite red shirt that sits just a little bit too tight on his chest. The way he knew exactly where to drag your armchair to ensure that the angle of the camera would be right.

And as you think it, you realize that even though he brought up the sex tape as an innocent spur-of-the-moment suggestion, the bastard's thought of this way before Frankie had called to check in today.

Fuck, he's played you.

His tongue curls against your clit, flicking up and white sizzling heat spears through your stomach. You gasp, mind wiped clean of thoughts as your fingers curl into his hair.

Fuck, fuck, what were you thinking?

You’re a twitching, aching mess for him. Thighs pressed tight to his ears, as you can feel the tingling heat that starts from your core that spreads outwards and surrounds you in a devastatingly familiar way.

His tongue is a languid, slick slide against your clit. Fingers gracefully coaxing you until you're right where he wants you to be— that pinpoint edge of a slow burning ache that spreads across the entire base of your spine until your legs start to shake in that tell-tale sign of your orgasm.

“Fuck— Santiago, I’m—” you warn, but you can’t even make out complete words to finish your sentence, just indignant whines and sobs that should be shameful but you’re too far gone to care.

Because you’re almost there, so close you can feel it from the tingling sensation that reaches all the way from the very tip of your ears to the curl of your toes—how close you are to coming on that man’s tongue, and then— then— he stops.

He does not let you come.

It takes you a second, maybe two, for your brain to even fully register what has taken place. You rise up on your elbows, to stare down between your legs, where Santiago framed between your thighs, gazing back up at you. Lips curved upwards with amused mischief. Not a grin, no—that bastard is smiling at you, warm and sweet like he hasn’t done anything wrong at all.

“What are you—” you start.

“Not much of a sex tape if we don’t put on a show, sweetheart.”

You open your mouth to protest, to give him the tongue lashing of his fucking life. But his fingers curl inside you, brushing against something devastatingly good. Your head drops back against the pillow with a thud, back arching away from your mattress and into his fingers, trying to have more of him, as he is rubbing against that deep spot that is blinding.

White, blistering heat spears through you that have you forgetting all about your indignant anger, have you forgetting what he did and fuck—makes you forget about your own fucking name for a second.

“Fuck, that’s such a pretty sound,” he says, voice feverish and rasped, “You think you can do that for me again?”

You groan impatiently, and Santiago's still smiling up at you, deep dimples burrowing into his cheek. It doesn’t matter that there are greys that are starting to skirt around his temples, or that wrinkles are crinkling in the corner of his eyes. He lights up boyishly, and all at once, you realize that —fuck, it’s embarrassing how much you’re a complete goner for this man.

The things you let him talk you into; the things you let him get away with. The things he’s doing to you right now: clever fingers rubbing-curling-pressing at that perfect place inside of you as he lowers his mouth to you again, his heated gaze never leaving yours.

The tingling heat is back, resuming its outward spread along your trembling limbs. A delicious pressure that builds and builds, more oppressive than last time under Santiago's skilled tongue and even more skillful fingers until you can’t think at all. Until all you can do is to rock your hips up against the heat of his mouth, gasping out his name. You reach out for him, your fingers sliding into his hair of their own volition to tangle and tug him even closer, pressing his face to your aching center.

Santiago doesn’t seem to mind at all. He just huffs out a sound that’s a half laugh, half groan and keeps kissing and pressing and teasing with that very same planned precision that is leading you ever closer to the edge of orgasm.

And then --of course-- he stops again.

An inhuman-sounding noise fills the walls. It takes you a moment before you register, it's coming from you.

"Shh, shh" he hushes, "it's ok sweetheart, you're okay."

Which is utter bullshit, your legs are trembling against the mattress, sweat dripping down your collarbone and you can't feel your toes. You're anything but okay.

“You’re so fucking pretty like this. You know that?” Santiago says.

"I hate you."

He's laughing again, no scratch that, giggling, that bright boyish sound that has a kaleidoscope of butterflies skittering in your stomach even though you're mad enough to kill him.

"No you don't," he rebuts confidently, as he presses his palm flat against your stomach. "You don't hate me, because I'm making you feel good, aren't I sweetheart? Why don't you tell Frankie how good you feel,” he murmurs, and then you feel his tongue press a slow lick inside you.

You don't get a word out, just a high-pitched breathless sound, as you spread your legs wider for him, as if the events from seconds ago had been erased from your mind by the pleasure that floods over you. Letting bygones be bygones, so long as his tongue never stopped. Sweet little circles, his thumb rubs into your hipbone as he gets you closer and closer to where you want to go. He leads you there, with his tongue and fingers, the soft curls bouncing on his forehead tickling against your stomach, until your orgasm is so close you can touch it with your fingertips.

So close you can see it, specks of white behind your eyelids, as you are whimpering out his name.

Then he stops.

He leaves you there suspended. Toeing the edge of a drop, right before a jump, and doesn’t let you go.

You want to scream. You're so close, your body is doing the screaming for you. Thighs aching and burning, tears stinging behind your eyes.

“Nonooo, fuck, Santiago, don’t sto—”

“Ask me nicely, Cariño.” Santiago's mouth is still pressed against your slick core, and you can feel the warm breath of his words against your folds as he says it. It makes you shiver at the sensation. “Ask me nicely, and I'll let you come. I promise.”

You open your eyes, with a sob, as you look down at him. Those gorgeous brown eyes, expecting his usual grin and bravado. Except it's not there, replaced by an intent that burns through your stomach, staring back at you in challenge: Beg.

You won’t, and it’s not just because if you gave in the man’s ego would be large enough to develop its own gravitational pull until it collapsed the very sun itself with it.

It's because you can't let him win.

The two of you have always had this strange competitive relationship. When he pushes you have to pull him back. Because if you give Santiago an inch he gets ahead of himself and will try to take a whole continent. You have to reel him back, and in the end if you’re lucky, he only goes for a mile. Still close enough that he’s not out of your sight. It’s what you’ve always done. It’s why the two of you work.

So of course you can’t beg. That’s just fucking ridiculous, to roll over and present your belly in defeat, to give in to this beautiful bastard is unthinkable to you.

You don’t beg, biting down your bottom lip to physically restrain yourself in your weakest moments when his tongue melts you. Don't beg when his fingers undoes you, unwinding the knot of heat that is blossoming in the depth of your belly, warm and achingly sweet.

You feel drunk on sensation, overstimulated by Santiago's tongue and mouth, as he latches his mouth on your clit again. You're not so sure about anything anymore. Don't know how long you've been here, how long he's done this, brought you to the precipice only to stop and start all over again.

It must be the fourth? Fifth time? Of having been led so close to your release with his tongue, only for him to slow down his strokes. To have his infuriating mouth, move away, and leave a trail of wet, soft kisses against the line of your inner thighs instead. To have him waiting until he knows you’ve climbed down from the very edge of a peak he’s held your hand and led you up to. After all of that, everything becomes a bit foggy and hazy.

It's not that you forfeit as such, you just can't remember doing it — can't remember asking him. But somewhere along the line, you let out a shaky, “ple-please” punctuated with a hiccuping sob.

He smiles.

“There we go. That’s all I wanted. All you needed to do is ask, sweetheart."

There’s an insufferable grin this time as you look down between your thighs. That diamond-cut jawline, belonging to the golden era of Hollywood is now glistening with your slick. He licks his lips like he’s tasting the remnants of something sweet and appetizing that he doesn’t want to go to waste.

After that first defeat, it gets easier. You can’t believe how easy it is as you start pleading and begging. Can barely believe that’s what you’re doing even as you hear your own voice all wanton and needy doing exactly that.

Santiago raises himself to kneel over your spread legs. His fingers are wrapped tight around the base of his cock, stroking himself languidly as he looks down on you.

"Frankie's right, you really are such a good girl, sweetheart. Look at you beg all sweet and nicely. Should I reward you?"

Your eyes are so dazed you’re unable to focus—everything’s a blur. You wonder what you must look like right now. How debauched of an image you must make for the camera— for your husband. Legs spread, slick and dripping, head thrown back, mouth slack and open.

“Please just— Fuck, Santiago, please. Please, I need to come.”

“Good girl,” he murmurs, and his hand comes to rest on the back of your thighs, warm and sturdy as he draws them up and spreads them.

For all the frustration you should feel at him for taking things this far. For being such an absolute little shit, all you can feel as he pulls you further down the bed until your legs are locked around his waist (right where you two belong), is warmth and relief.

Santiago leans down until his forehead is pressed against yours, grounding you. The contrast between what he’s done— teased and edged, unwound you until you’ve lost any sense of time or thread of your surroundings; and what he’s doing to you right now in this moment—mouthing loving praises against every inch of your skin he can reach with the gentlest care— it tears you apart.

“That’s my good fucking girl,” he tells you, his warm hands resting on your inner thigh as he spreads it further apart and crawls up your body to settle between them. “So perfect. Always are.”

Your eyes are drawn to his cock, how it’s proudly jutting between his legs as he strokes it, flushed and dripping with precome from the lack of touch and neglect.

It's only then it hits you, how Santiago has been neglecting his own pleasure throughout. Only focusing on giving you yours.

It’s ridiculous really, how your heartbeat quickens when he’s pressed up against your slick cunt, how needy you are when you feel the blunt hardness of him.

His hands wrap around the thick girth, and then he pushes inside you with his cock.

Fuck you might almost come from that first blissful stroke alone. He nudges insistently against something ruinous inside you that makes your vision whiten. You can't even make any noises, because all the oxygen is knocked out of your lungs. God, why didn’t you beg sooner if this was the prize he was willing to give you.

Santiago's moaning too. Low and gravelly and it’s such a beautiful sound that makes your chest draw tight. Then he rocks his hips into you, a deep and impatient thrust, not holding back. You drown in it. The lack of restraint and how he’s finally giving you what you’ve wanted for so long.

He's close. You grip onto his curls, tightly until it must sting. Just the way you know he likes it from all the time you’ve seen how fast it makes him come when Frankie does it to him, and Santiago groans, hips stuttering into you.

You’re so fucking close, and you tell him exactly that. Confesses it between gasps and heaving sobs. All you want is for him to fuck you harder and deeper, to make you come.

"Please, Santiago, please just—."

The molten heat blossoms and spreads from the base of your spine, upwards, and you're almost there. So full with the sensation that you think you’re going to burst out of yourself along the seams of your skin. You’re close, so close. Heat crackling along every inch of you and—

And then Santiago fucking pulls out.

You must be screaming at him. Want to claw and dig into the man’s curly hair and tear it out by the roots. Curse him to the depths of fucking hell while you’re at it.

But Santiago pulls you up until you're kneeling upright by the edge of the bed. He's murmuring sweet apologies into your ear as he mouths and kisses your neck.

For all the physical anger in you, your body is not pairing up with your brain, because the touch of him lingers with a pleasant tingle. You keen through sobs even as you’re uttering every curse that’s left in your presently limited vocabulary.

His arms wrap tightly around your front, shushing you and it almost sounds sincere if you didn’t know him as well as you do. "Not teasing, cariño, promise."

You don’t buy that, don't buy that for shit. But it doesn't matter if you do or don't, Santiago's hands are already moving to your hips, lining himself up from behind you, his front pressed up against your back.

"I just want Frankie to see you when you come," he murmurs into your ear. His fingers curl gently over the edge of your jaw, turning it so you’re facing straight away from him. “See that?”

Your vision is blurred and it takes you several moments before you’re able to blink and focus on the scene ahead of you. Your phone that’s pointed accusingly at your naked body.

Exhausted, limbs weak to your side like a spent rag doll, with only Santiago propping you up from where your back is pressed against his firm chest.

"I want you to think about it, cariño,” his warm lips are pressed to your ear, a low raspy caress in your core. “Think about Frankie watching this where he is.”

You whimper. Images of Frankie with his large hands and thick fingers, wrapped around his cock burning vividly behind your closed eyes.

You feel the length of Santiago drag against your folds, gathering the wetness that's just dripping onto his cock.

“Think about how he’ll be touching himself in that hotel room. About him watching this and seeing my cock stretch out this perfect pussy."

Then he's pressing inside you again. His palms slide from your breast to your stomach, the rough callouses catching against your heated skin, down and lower. Until you feel his fingers skate across your navel. There's a tingling sensation there until his hands come to the front, cupping your pussy, his fingers gliding over your wet slick clit, over and over. The entirety of your spine burns.

The inevitable steady climb of your orgasm builds and builds and builds after having been denied so many times.

You want it, thighs burning and everything in you aches with the need of it. If you don’t get to come this time you think you might very well die from it.

"Santiago, I swear to god, don't-stop-don't-fucking-stop."

It’s meant as a threat. But the words passing between your lips are breathless and needy. Whiny. Beyond any reasonable doubt it falls squarely on the scale of begging. The worst part is, you don't even care anymore. Because if whining and begging is what it takes for him to actually let you come, you’ll whine for him. You’ll beg and plead and do whatever it is he wants you to do.

Your pride was scattered somewhere between the third or fourth or maybe even fifth time he could have made you come but didn’t.

The sharp line of his nose digs into your heated cheek. Arms locked impossibly tight around you, pressing every inch of you to him, and still, it feels like he’s clutching on trying to press you even closer to him. Like he’s worried that you’ll slip between his fingers if there’s any gap of space between you.

"Not gonna stop cariño.”

His voice has no right to be that sweet and gentle. You can see his expression on the small screen on the phone mirrored back to you and he has no right to look strained and tortured as if he’s the one in pain. He did this to you.

“I want to feel you come on my cock,” he says, and his voice is so quiet and gentle, it almost sounds like a plea. Like he’s the one asking for your permission, begging you to let him feel you. Like the last hour (or was it hours, god knows) had not taken place because of him. “Let's come together ok?"

His other hand comes to your hip, pulling you in closer to him. His hips snaps hard into you. It's so much, almost too much and his fingers are still circling your clit, and– and fuuuuuuuck.

It hits you all at once. Deep and sudden and everywhere, your orgasm overwhelms you, until you can't breathe, can't think, can't move. Sound disappears altogether, and the last thing you think you hear is Santiago's strained voice, distant and far away. You're only able to make out your husband's name and yours amongst the rest of the nonsensical words he's speaking.

The only thing you're capable of is letting Santiago fuck into you, until you can feel his hips stutter into a jerky pace, and the way his cock twitches inside of you as he comes with a strangled groan.

Santiago is snoring quietly when you wake with your ear pressed against his chest. The afternoon sun has dimmed now, replaced by a softer amber that washes the white walls in its sunset hues.

Raising yourself by your elbows, you cast a quick glance at the clock on the nightstand, shit, 5pm, how did you sleep away half the day.

Santiago is how.

"Shit, did we fall asleep?" a raspy murmur comes to your side.

He's rubbing the sleep from his eyes, eyes squinting adorably as he sits himself up and surveys the room and spots the clock much like you did.

"Jesus, five? how did we even--" he grumbles a bit, fingers threading through his hair to try to detangle the absolute mess you've left it in, as he starts to wake.

"Oh, oh shit shit!" he curses and launches himself to the foot of the bed.

You watch him in surprise, as you see him grab the phone.

"Oh thank god," Santiago sighs out and his shoulders sag with relief. He turns back towards you, holding up the phone.

"Left it on when we passed out, thought the battery died and the video didn't save. Fortunately, it's fine, will just have to trim it down so Frankie doesn't have to watch us snoring for hours."

The image of it, Frankie sitting in his hotel, trying to get his rocks off, and instead being greeted by three hour footage of Santiago snoring, has you snorting with a grunt-like laugh.

In front of you, Santiago tilts his head as he just looks at you, with a dopey smile on his face.

"What?" you ask.

"Nothing," he says, but the smile, sweet and warmer than the sunset blankets over you and you let it settle over you, without any further quip or remarks for once.

"Wanna grab a bite to eat?" Santiago asks you.

Your tongue salivates at the prospect, images of grilled meats and deep fried spring rolls already flashing before your eyes.

"Oh yes! Can we go to Chinos?"

Santiago smile slips away into a scowl. "Didn't that place get shut down for health violations last month?"

"Yeah, but they reopened this week."

"We're going to end up with food poisoning like that time we went there the night before graduation."

You tip your head, considering him, and you can clearly hear the word that he didn't say. He didn't say no.

Your lips curl into the sweetest smile you can muster as you flutter your eyelashes at him. "How pretty do I have to ask?"

Santiago shakes his head, until he flashes you a toothy smile that crinkles his eyes.

It starts the way so many things start between you and Santiago. It was a stupid idea, and you may have talked Santiago into it.

a/n: to be notified of new writing updates follow @astroboots-writes and turn on notifs 🤡💖🤡

A/N: I started this piece well over 1 1/2 years ago and it was actually supposed to be the follow up to Coming Home but I got completely stuck at how to write edging scenes, and didn't feel confident enough at the time to finish it. I came back to it this week, realizing that ironically now this is all I write for Santiago, and finished it within an afternoon, and was just so buzzed and happy about it, I hope you all enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

[the0retically]

Statement of Timothy Rand

I’m definitely not done with it (and still gotta go through and edit what I do have) but if people want to see the start of it here’s the beginning part of the tma/bitb crossover I was thinking about. The premise is Rand is giving a statement about the events that happened in Galloway, but he did lose his sanity so things are a little Funky for him. It’s written in transcript style so there’s lines for him and then stage directions for background noise and some movement, anywho ramble over lol if y’all want to read it’s below the cut!

Statement of Timothy Rand regarding his experience with The Hive in Galloway, Louisiana.

[Click of a tape recorder, can hear the whirring of the tape throughout the following. Otherwise it is a quiet room. There is a sigh from the person in the room.]

Rand: So just, talk into this thing? Ok, guess that’ll work…Fuck, man, how do I even start? Uh, I guess it started with my sister, Rachel. She was always the best of us. Shining star. You know she could’ve been something. Done something good? Man, I don’t know. She was kind though. A pain in my ass, but she had a kind heart. God knows if I was the one that went missing instead of her then maybe this all wouldn’t have happened. I mean, would anyone even notice a burnt out loser like me going missing? Probably not. If they did, they would’ve said “it was only a matter of time” or some bullshit like that. But no, Rachel went missing and I was the one that never left. At least that's what John kept saying. Maybe if Rachel was around she could’ve done something more to fix everything before it led to…well all that. But, can’t change what happened. Even though it was my fault that she never made it home, I should’ve been there for her, I should’ve—fuck.

[Sound of rustling, pulling out a cigarette, and a lighter flicks open to light it. Lighter and pack can be heard being stuffed back into his pocket and there’s the sound of a cigarette burning followed by some coughing before it eases. He takes a couple drags from the cigarette which can be heard throughout the following. The tape whirs on.]

Rand: My sister went missing and then things were never the same. John was at work all hours, Ma tried her best, she really did, but I certainly didn’t make it easy for her. Then Kian and Rolan left town. After graduation, they couldn’t stay or whatever. Fuck if I know. Kian had a plan to become a big time rockstar, travel the world, perform in big ole Hollywood. He was always larger than life like that. Talking about his big plans and dreams. Never really expected him to ever come back.

[Rand pauses, takes another drag from the cigarette. There is some static noise in the background that slowly grows, nothing distracting, but it’s definitely there. The tapes whirs on. The following is said quieter.]

Rand: Rolan fucked off to Chicago and became a hotshot lawyer…he didn’t come home for ten years. I never saw him until they both came back to town. Surprised they even agreed to it.

[Rand scoffs, clears his throat, and continues. The static is more present. The tape whirs on.]

[estsmutxx]

Could u write something about colson inspired by the song Sorry Mama? ❤️ Love your account btw

thank you!! and here you go:)

*smut*

plot: lightly based off the song "sorry mama" ,listen to it;)

parings:colson x yn

warnings/tags:knife kink (no actual cutting), pain kink,sneaking into the house,mentions of sex tape,degrading,small overstim ,praise,getting caught

You were sitting on your bed in your nightdress.You had your phone in your hands,scrolling through your camera roll. You were currently staying at your mom's house,but you missed your boyfriend Colson more than anything. You scrolled to the top,finding multiple pictures of you two together. You clicked on a video,the realization finally hitting you. It was your sex tape.

You didn't remember filming it and you were curious,so you clicked on it. As soon as the video started your own moans filled up your headphones. "Oh shit." You mumbled to yourself under your breath. You closed the app,going into your messages to text your boyfriend.

________________________________

Y/n: Col guess what I just found

Colson💕: What's up?

Y/n: I found our sex tape,I don't even remember recording this one

Colson💕: You're jokinggg,send it

Y/n: *attachment 1 video*

Colson💕:Holy shit.

Y/n: I know right? I was so loud lmao

Colson💕:Love when you're like that. Speaking of,can I come over?

Y/n: Right idea wrong time. I'm still at my moms house

Colson💕: fuck that i'll sneak in. I want you

Y/n: Alright just don't get caught.

________________________________

You slipped your phone back into your pocket,turning back to the video. You focused your attention on him,how he looked,how he sounded,and how pleasured he was by you. Your thoughts immediately changed. You needed him now.

You waited on your bed for another five minutes,a hand between your thigh. You heard your window open,Colson crawling through it and landing on the floor."That was harder than I thought." He said with a laugh. You laughed back. "Hi Col." You said before he crawled into bed with you. "She's still awake,we have to be quiet." You whispered to him. He nodded,placing a kiss on your collarbone.

"I feel like I haven't seen you in forever." He said,admiring your body with his hands. "It's only been a few days." You said with a small laugh. "Exactly." He responded. He trailed his hand up your body,stopping at your neck. He rested his hand there,covering you both with the blanket.

"So you're horny cuz of a sex tape we made months ago?" He asked. "How'd you know I was horny?" You said playfully.  "The way you're looking at me." He replied. He traced your lips with his fingers,mentioning you to open your mouth. You did,feeling his fingers enter your mouth. You sucked on them,but he pulled away almost immediately. You looked at him,confused.

He pulled something out of his pocket,but you couldn't see it until he brought it closer. It was a switchblade. He brought it up to your

neck,pressing down but not nearly enough to even be close to cutting you.He lifted it up,carefully dragging it against your thigh,but still not cutting you. He lifted your dress up,moving the knife onto your inner thigh.You twitched underneath his touch,your clit tingling as you felt the cold knife on your skin.

"You like that?" He asked,bringing it back up to your neck. "Mhm." You responded,struggling to find words. He brought his hand between your thighs as you pulled your underwear down with the hand that wasn't holding his back. "I love how eager you are for me." He whispered into the crook of your neck. You tilted your head to the side to give him complete access to kiss your neck.

He trailed his hands down your neck,pushing your dress down from the top. He placed a finger inside of you,pushing it in and out. Your eyes fluttered,your head getting pushed against the pillow. He used one hand to steady his movements,the other hand talking the knife and tracing your hickeys with it. The knife was cold,and his fingers were deep. "You're gonna be good for me,yeah?" He asked,pushing his fingers in deeper.

You nodded,your breath getting heavier by the second. "You're gonna be quiet for me,don't let her hear you." He spoke. You nodded,your body getting more and more sensitive as his fingers curled inside of you. He pulled them out,your wetness coating them. He put the blanket over both of you,putting his head between your thighs. He used his hands to open spread your legs,flicking his tongue inside of you. You let out a moan,your eyes forcing themselves closed. "Fuck,Col." You moaned. He pulled you by your hair,the pain silencing your moans.

He pushed his tounge in deeper, continually licking over your clit. Your lips parted and you tried your best not to make too much noise. You felt yourself start to throb on his tounge and he let out a grunt,the vibrations hitting your clit. You released on his tounge,your orgasm causing your legs to shake around his head. The pressure was so strong but that didn’t stop him from continuing to lick on your clit.”Fuck,oh my god.” You whined,your clit becoming move and move sensitive with every movement of his tongue.

He pulled away,his hand immediately pressing down on your neck as he hovered over you. “I told you to be quiet.” He whispered. “I’m sorry.” You forced out,still coming down from your high. He reached for your nightstand,flipping up the knife again. “Wouldn’t this look so good pressed up against your skin?” He cooed,the shiny knife being pressed against your collarbone again. The blade gently touched your skin,sending a shiver down your spine. “I love how you can’t even follow a simple task. You did sound so cute moaning for me though.” He said,pressing the knife harder. It hurt slightly,but in the best way possible.

“Pretty girl.” He praised,bringing the knife to one of your nipples,moving it in small carefully circles. He never ever cut you but the feeling of the metal on your bare skin was enough to excite you. You whined as soon as the knife hit your neck. “You like that?” He asked,you nodded. “Too bad,no more.” He said with a smirk. He pulled the knife away from you,placing it on the table. “Fuck,Colson. You tease me too much.” You said with a small laugh. He nodded, “mhmm,i do.”Before kissing your lips roughly.

Your bodies were close together,your tits running against his bare skin as he made out with you. You were still attacking each other’s lips and as soon as your head was starting to get pushed against the pillow you heard the bedroom door quickly open. You pulled away,your head immediately turning to the door. Your mom was leaning against the door. “What is all that nos- Jesus christ! Y/n!” She yelled,shutting her eyes. You and Colson were both still completely naked when he jumped up and tried to find his clothes in the pile you two made. “Sorry mama!” You yelled.

[monstersinthecosmos]

September 5, 1973

“There’s this thing when you’re way up north, the Midnight Sun? You know?”

Daniel shrugs. He sort of knows, but wants the explanation on tape. 

“Like up by the Arctic Circle, during the summer the days are so long. It only gets dark for like two hours in the middle of the night, it’s crazy. But then in the winter it’s dark all day, too. People get super depressed or whatever.”

“So it’s good that you went in the summer,” Daniel says.

“Well yeah, but the thing is, I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t fucking sleep.”

Daniel holds a finger up for a pause so that he can flip the tape. When he clicks the record button, the guy continues.

“So I’m one of those people, you know, I need it completely dark or I can’t sleep. Like fallout curtains. I swear to god I should just sleep in a bomb shelter. I need it be—“ he gestures with his hands, like an orchestra conductor to his syllables “—pitch black.”

He leans back in his chair. “Huh. Yeah, that would be crazy.”

“It sucked! And then I’d finally fall asleep, and I’d wake up thinking it was morning, right? I’d be getting dressed, heading downstairs, out in the world to go grab breakfast or some shit and it’s just empty! It’s like the whole world is dead. Twilight Zone shit!”

He shrugs. Pulls the tab off his soda can and spins it on the table. 

“So anyway, you know, if you don’t get any sleep you start going nuts, right? And at the hospital they told me I had, like, delusions of grandeur or whatever they called it.”

“What were the delusions?”

“I was completely convinced that there was this, like, deeper meaning beneath all things.”

“That doesn’t sound so crazy. I think I believe that, too.”

“No but like, on this whole other level. Like cosmic horrors. I was convinced I could hear all these messages coming from the ice. Like way up north. Up at the top.”

“So how did you wind up at the hospital? What lead up to it?”

“Well right, I wasn’t sleeping, yeah? And I was thinking like, all the light coming into the windows, I felt like it was something looking at me. Invading my space. And you know man, I don’t really remember all of it? Just, next thing I know I’m screaming in the middle of the street. And it’s like, bright day time. You’d think it was the middle of the afternoon. But it’s like, one in the morning and I’m waking up all these poor Icelandic people. Like moms coming outside in their bathrobes to see what the problem  is.”

Daniel think he has a good burnout decoder. He’s patient when people ramble, when the story meanders. This guy isn’t even so bad, but it takes them almost four hours to get through the story of how he got institutionalized overseas. If Daniel were to edit the tapes down himself, he thinks he could fit it into a single radio hour.

It’s sincere, though. That’s all he can ask for.

He takes the long way home, even though his car has been making a weird noise for a couple weeks. He probably shouldn’t push her so hard until he figures out what it is. But even trying to wind down through the emptier neighborhoods, there are signs of life everywhere. 

Sometimes he wishes it were truly quiet. Aside from the mental collapse, the interview tonight sounded so soothing. Going somewhere quiet. 

Well. He has a job now, sort of. His parents have almost cut him off. Things like that don’t feel easy like they used to. He’d been naive. It would take some money, not just for the trip, but enough to miss work. He’d have to bank a dozen interviews to bridge the gap if he took off somewhere. 

But it would be nice. After everything. Just be somewhere quiet. If he could swing it. If he had the time.

He laughs at himself as he parks his car, as he listens to the engine clicking. Presses his hands to his face.

“You’re fuckin losing it, man,” he says, out loud.

Too young to be thinking like this. Too soon. He’s not ready to turn into his parents.

He shakes it off. Scratches his hands through his hair. Tilts his mirror down so that he can see his face in the ugly yellow streetlight.

Young still. No matter how weird he feels. Young. Tired as fuck but he doesn’t have wrinkles yet. Could still pass for a high schooler. This is okay.

He’s got plenty of time. 

[previous day] | [next day]

[general-gt]

In The Archives’ Walls- 1/1

Warnings- non-consensual handling, mentions of worms/killing worms. Let me know if I missed any!

Here’s the promised Magnus Archives g/t one shot. In which Jon is the smartest idiot and Martin is along for the ride.

Everyone in the archive was on edge. The worms were everywhere and it was getting on everyone’s nerves.

Martin was probably more annoyed than scared. Those stupid worms meant he had to be doubly as cautious to avoid The Archivist’s — Jonathan Sims, from how the man introduced himself when recording his tapes — notice. The man wouldn’t even spare him a second glance before squashing him like a bug.

Shaking his head, Martin forced himself to focus. If he slipped up now he really would get crushed like those spiders.

Scaling up his rope, Martin heaved himself into the cupboard with a huff. Spooling his rope up, he wandered up to the sleeve of already opened biscuits, pulling two out. He broke them into quarters and shoved them in his satchel.

Buttoning his bag closed, he dug his hook into the ledge of the cupboard and tossed the rest of his thread down. He started to climb down and touched on the counter without issue.

It was as he was fastening his hook to his belt that he saw it.

A worm.

Bracing himself, he grabbed the pin at his waist, drawing it in one swift motion. He knew the worms here had incredibly sharp teeth and he refused to end up a borrower raisin because he got bit.

It didn’t have eyes but it watched him anyway, waiting to strike. He lunged first, stabbing his pin forward, only for the worm to rear back with a shriek.

It struck out and barely missed his arm as he pinned it’s tail with his foot. He slammed his other foot on the middle of it and drove his pin into it’s head. It squirmed for a moment before it fell still.

Pulling his pin free, he put it back in the fabric that made his belt.

“Well, that was unexpected.”

Martin whipped around on his heel, immediately looking up into the eyes of the human who loomed over the counter. Damn it! How did he not notice he was stood there?

The Archivist snatched him up in a clinical grasp, pinning Martin’s arms to his sides and tilting his head up with a thumb, as if he was a rodent about to bite him. Squirming desperately, Martin struggled to force himself to breathe, terror gripping his lungs more than the surprisingly loose grip.

“What are you?” Martin’s stomach dropped as he was lifted even higher, scrutinised by The Archivist’s sharp gaze. The sound of his heart thundering in his chest nearly overpowered the sound of the human’s voice.

Martin wanted to tell The Archivist to go to hell but when he opened his mouth, he couldn’t stop himself from blurting out, “I’m a borrower.” He hastily shut his mouth with an audible click, horrified at how easily he gave that answer up.

“Interesting. I’ve never heard of your existence before.” Jon started walking and Martin swallowed down the bile burning his throat at the swaying motion. “I’m sure I have a spare notebook somewhere,” the man muttered to himself.

He didn’t even want to know what a man like Jon would do to document his existence. Martin would’ve renewed his struggle if he wasn’t suddenly dropped off on a desk. He fell flat on his rear with a gasp.

Scrambling to his feet, Martin snapped his head around to look for an escape. There wasn’t anything for him to even hide behind, no matter use to run and he cursed. He could try scaling down the table but it would take too long.

The Archivist returned after less than a minute with a notebook in one hand and a small box balanced against his hip in the other. The box was set on the table first before he pulled up a chair and set down the notebook, flipping it open to the first page.

“How old are you?” The Archivist asked and Martin blinked incredulously. Was he actually just… asking questions to document his existence? It wasn’t the worst thing that he could’ve been doing, but Martin refused to answer. If the word of borrowers got out, they’d all be screwed.

“I’m 29.” Again the answer came even as he tried to grit his teeth against the compulsion to talk. What the hell was going on?

The Archivist wrote down Martin’s answer in neat cursive. “Do you have a name?”

He tried to spout off a lie. “Martin Blackwood.” came out instead. No! He had to shut up! If he kept answering these stupid questions he’d put every borrower in danger.

“A family name too…” he mumbled, spinning his pen idly between his fingers.

“What the hell are you doing?” Martin asked, making Jon pause in his writing and look at the borrower with a raised eyebrow. As if Matin was the one asking a stupid question.

“Obviously I’m recording your existence. The archives are meant to investigate abnormal occurrences and I’ve never seen or heard of anything like you,” he explained simply. The Archivist seemed to think of something, “Are there more of you here?”

“No.” And thank god that there really weren’t any more borrowers in the building. There’d only been one other borrower and they left soon after the worm infestation started getting worse.

“That’s a pity,” Jon said, sending Martin’s heart pounding again, “With only one specimen I can hardly judge a whole species.”

The fear of being experimented on made itself known and his mind blanked when The Archivist reached for him. He scrambled back but wasn’t fast enough.

“H-hey! D-don’t— put me down!”

The Archivist snatched him up, grabbing something out of the box with his other hand. Kicking at the human’s fingers, Martin struggled desperately.

It didn’t do anything but annoy The Archivist who pinned Martin to his palm, lining something up next to him. He didn’t dare turn his head to see what it was.

“Stop squirming,” The Archivist reprimanded. Those words didn’t seem to hold the same power as his questions but Martin still froze at the underlying threat to his tone. “Hmm… 7.6 centimetres.”

Martin jolted when he was set back down. He saw the thing Jon had held up to him was a ruler and he was split between being offended and relieved. Offence at being treated like some lab rat but relief that he wasn’t a dead lab rat.

This continued as The Archivist took his measurements and wrote down a physical description. It was weird but it could’ve been much worse. Still, annoyance welled up as he was manhandled. If he wanted Martin’s cooperation he could’ve just asked! He knew Martin could talk and understand him.

It was when The Archivist took a photo of him on a polaroid camera that he objected.

“You-you need to get rid of the photo.” he demanded, hoping he sounded braver than he felt. He knew he was shaking like a leaf in the breeze but he couldn’t help it.

The Archivist arched an eyebrow, clearly not at all threatened and only indulging him out of curiosity. “Why?”

He didn’t even need the weird compulsion to the question to blurt out, “It puts other borrowers at risk!”

“I already have a notebook full of information on you. What’s one photo?” Jon asked and Martin wondered if it was meant to be as mocking as he sounded. His face burned.

“It’s- you shouldn’t have either! If anyone finds out about us—” Frustrated fear boiled over and tears poured down his cheeks. Jon reached a hand out but Martin flinched away and he paused.

Jon floundered and pulled back his hand, obviously at a loss for what to do. “Ah… I can- I can tear up the photo if you’d like.” he offered and Martin frantically nodded, trying to bring his breathing back to normal.

There was the sound of tearing paper and Martin wiped away his tears to see Jon dumping a pile of shredded paper into the bin. “Th-thank you,” he stuttered.

“Apologies, I didn’t mean to distress you, I was curious.” Jon sat back in the chair at the desk.

“This whole thing’s been pretty ‘distressing’.” Martin muttered bitterly, sinking to sit down and hugging his knees to his chest. The constant adrenaline in his system meant he was exhausted and he muffled a yawn.

Jon winced at his words but didn’t say anything against the sentiment.

“Can I go home?” Martin asked, hoping desperately that Jon wouldn’t try and keep him to make more notes. He wouldn’t, right? He couldn’t—

“Of course! I’m sorry for keeping you like this.” Jon said.

Martin held back a sigh and forced himself to his feet. He wouldn’t give Jon even a second to take it back. “Okay, I’ll be going.”

Jon nodded, probably catching the awkwardness to Martin’s tone. He stood up and took the notebook he’d been writing in, leaving the room.

Martin wasted no time climbing down from the desk and running to the entrance into the walls. He was so glad he’d made one into the room Jon used to record his tapes.

Slamming the entrance behind him, he collapsed against it, heaving deep breaths to calm his pounding heart.

Martin was glad to get out of that one alive.

——

I’m not very far into TMA so I may’ve fudged Martin’s character but I tried. Jon gives off such neurodivergent energy so I think he’d absolutely document a borrower. Also the switching between ‘The Archivist’ and ‘Jon’ is very much done on purpose.

[purplemajasty]

A Lovely Fakement from the TMA AU

*click, whirrr*

Bumble cmon y’know I don't technically work in the archives! Yeah yeah, I know, “if I'm gonna be down here I might as well help” ugh fine fine, just give me the statement- yeah ill be back in a bit then.

Alright, let's see what we got here. Statement of Wendy Morales, hmm oddly familiar name- regarding… ah a series of encounters with impossible figures? Original statement given on march 17th, 2021, recorded on February 17, 2023. Alright uhh, oh! Yeah! Statement recorded by Pluto “Purple” Morado, Artifact storage assistant at the Magnus Institute, London. Statement begins.

“Okay, I'm gonna start this out with the fact that yeah, I know that I have a family history of schizophrenia, you think that when this started that wasn't the first thing I checked for? I was basically in the doctor's office as soon as it started happening, and they said everything was normal. So no, I know I'm not going crazy… at least god I hope not, or maybe I should hope that’s the case considering- whatever! Anyway- ugh- let me just start at the beginning. It started a few months ago. Really small things, like seeing motion out of the corner of my eye or background noise that sounds like voices murmuring but you can't quite make it out. Things that could be easily ignored or missed. But let me tell you it didn't stay that way for long. I started actually feeling things touching me, clawing at my skin, or grabbing so tight I thought the circulation would get cut off. But it never actually showed physically. This was about the point I went to the doctor, and while they didn't see anything wrong with me, they still referred me to a psychologist just in case. That's beside the point though because it just kept getting worse. I started waking up feeling like something was choking me, pinning me down so I was helpless. It was terrifying, I felt like my mind was turning against me. Things started going missing, I lived alone so no one else was moving them, and I started hearing doors and cabinets slamming across the house. On top of that, there was an almost constant unintelligible cacophony of voices coming from nowhere. My own home started warping and changing into something unrecognizable. But the worst, oh the worst of it was the dark, warped figures that I saw everywhere. No one else seemed to see them but me, but what terrified me the most was how they could interact with the world, changing things around me. Making me feel like nothing in my world is real. God, I just- I just don't want to live like this anymore. Is anything even real? Am I real? Please- please just help me please- “

Statement ends, while I was reading I figured out where I recognized the name from. I probably shouldn't say this on tape- eh ill just cut this section- but this is one of my first victims. I'm still developing but I wanted to try out my abilities on someone, just to understand what exactly I could do. I kinda hoped that by picking someone who expected hallucinations, I could mitigate the damage I did, but oh well you win some you lose some I guess. Sorry Bumble, I know you would be angry at me if you knew about everything. Honestly, you probably will be when you find out, cause there's really no avoiding it. But I hope you understand why I can’t tell you now.

*click*

[the11tailed]

[Recorder Click]

THE ARCHIVIST: You promised, Sculptor.

THE SCULPTOR: I did, so fine, my dear Archivist, my story.

THE ARCHIVIST: Hold on, let me do my thing.

Statement of The Sculptor regarding how they became. Statement taken directly from subject the second day of the fifth month, 3415. Statement begins:

THE SCUPLTOR: I don’t remember my parents. Not their faces, their names or what they sounded like, but I did know that I loved them very much. I wanted to do well in school, to make them proud of me. I was diagnosed with ADHD when I was in middle school. I was lucky my parents were so willing to take steps necessary to help me. I went to the college nearby to study computer programming. Hated every minute of it. Stuck with it, though, finished, got my degree and immediately went to an Art College near me. Once I got my BFA, Bachelors in the Fine Arts, I managed to land a sculpting gig at a statue garden.

The guy who ran it was simply called Clay. I always thought that was funny. His name was Clay and he worked with clay.

[The Sculptor sighs]

I worked there for almost two years. I would later learn that that was the same amount of time people had been going missing in the nearby towns. I never really thought too hard about how…lifelike Clay made those statues. I just thought he was really good.

One day, he said we were going on a road trip, for inspiration. We loaded into a van with our tools. I asked about the clay. He said there was some at the place we were going.

We drove for almost three hours. Then he pulled into a clean-looking and well-managed house with pristine green lawns and a tall white fence.

We were buzzed in without fanfare. Clay turned the van into the driveway, parked and got out. I followed, confused and uncertain. I grabbed my tools and followed him inside.

He opened the door without being allowed in.

The first thing I noticed was the man sat in the armchair. He was old and frail, and he stared off into the garden without a word.

Clay walked over to him and crouched down, whispering something into his ear.

The old man rose up and walked to the center of the room, standing so still in made my hair stand on end. Clay gestured me forward and I walked.

He showed me how to…push away the folds of skin, how to push it back, smooth it. It was so easy and so…fun. I helped him shape and change that old man until a man that couldn’t be older than 20 stood in his place.

He smiled big and wide, and a chill went down my spine. He thanked Clay for his help and turned to me.

“A fine apprentice you have, he praised,”

As we left, he asked me if I liked it. I said yes and that I wanted more. He smiled in the same uncanny way that that old man had.

He taught me more and more. It was fun at first, shaping flesh like clay, molding them to look how I wanted, but it grew dull. I hated just working with human flesh. I wanted more.

I asked Clay.

He asked me what I wanted to do.

I asked him if I could make the next one as un-human like as I could.

He told me he would have to get an unwilling one. The willing always wanted to look a certain way.

He asked if I had a gender preference. I said male. Male creatures of the animal kingdom are far more colorful than their female counterparts.

The man he brought was young, maybe 19-20 years old. He showed him to me in the back of a car. The boy’s wrists were duct taped behind him and there was a cloth gag in his mouth. He looked scared and for some reason, that made me smile. When his fear seemed to deepen, I knew that I now bore the same smiles of my mentor.

We brought him to the study and stood him in the middle of the room. Clay sat to watch as I worked.

I removed the tape and the gag and looked him over. The clothes had to go, but I let him keep his underwear. I never liked the look of dicks. They looked like diseased worms.

He was so scared as I began to work. I first broke all the bones of his feet. I wanted to see what a human would look like with digitigrade. It took some work and using the foot of a dog to finally get it right. Had to start over a few times. Once I got the hang of it, the other foot was easy.

Once that was done, I added fur. All the way to the knee. If he could have screamed, I knew he would have. I did his fingers next. I bent the bone, tore out his nails and replaced them. I think he was crying at that point, but I was too focused on my work.

I wanted to turn him into a sort of werewolf. Just to see if I could. I did, too. Wasn’t as great as some of my newer works, but it was good for my first attempt.

Clay was so fucking proud of me.

It was too.

Then Clay had to leave, his mentor called him away to some unknown island that has never and will never exist.

The ritual failed, my mentor killed himself for the failure, but I was still hear.

My god screamed a lamented its failure. I whispered a promise to bring it more madness, so it would heal.

I kidnapped over a hundred people in my lifetime. I turned them into monstrosities beyond human comprehension and I kept them alive and conscious in Clay-no my garden. I drove them insane until the only being they served was mine. I used them to keep people out of my garden.

And then…I was killed by a hunter. Not the best way to go, I’m afraid. I melted into clay. I was nothing. Then my little Glyptikí came to me. She brought me back, and with me, some of my humanity. The Spiral let me keep some memories, the Traveler shieled me somewhat from The Spiral. I like it that way. Glyptikí and I traveled for a while before we met you and Hunter. Everything else we’ve done together, so there isn’t much to add.

THE ARCHIVIST: Yes, thank you for the statement, Sculptor.

THE SCULPTOR: Anytime, old friend.

THE ARCHIVIST: Statement ends.

[Recorder clicks]

||

Little something from my d2/TMA fusion au

[futuristicdei-osha]

*click*

[Th3 following is a recording from REDACTED]

"Dr. Megumi we can't let you continue these studys without knowing what your going to use these monsters for! I mean for God's sake your butler is a God of death you managed to just barely catch after it escaped!"

'Yes but I got him back did I not and he is just as loyal now that he has the collar on. Isn't that right 021-712?'

《You are correct dr.megumi as long as this collar is on my neck any escape attempt will result in my spirit being dispersed and my host body being exploded!》

"But what if the damned thing finds out how to take it off-"

《Controlled high voltage is the answer to that if i try to have it forcefully removed a high voltage controlled shock with knock me out and alert the doctor!》

*the tape fast forwards*

"We will gain control once the boss finds out what you plan to do megumi!"

'Yes that would be the case if you were to leave this room and regain your belongings wouldn't it?'

《That is correct doctor 》

'Then 021-712 be a good butler and clean this room once you're finished eating alright?'

"Megumi what the fuck are you on about?"

《As always sir! Gentlemen on behalf of dr.megumi we thank you for stopping by but your stay is now over do not worry about family and such as in 3-5 days a host will replace you and carry on your lives!》

"Oi megumi stop you batshi-!"

*crunching followed by a wet dripping sound*

《Now gentlemen please try not to move so much it'll only hurt for a moment~》

[Several hours of audio seem to be missing maybe the doctor has them?]

'Its always fascinating to watch you eat 021-712!"

《As youve told me many a time doctor if i didnt know better id say you enjoy this more then me~?》

'Perhaps it's just so elegant to watch in my opinion.'

《I see then be sure to bring me lots more alright doctor.》

'021-712 I thought I told you to call me Kaito?'

[End of tape]

[anthonysstupiddailyblog]

Anthony’s Stupid Daily Blog (211): Wed 12th Oct 2022

Tonight Radio 4 aired an episode an episode of Hancock's Half Hour that had been lost for over 60 years before being rediscovered on a reel to reel tape by a film collector at a car boot sale. It still baffles me that the BBC wiped so many iconic TV and radio shows (or just didn't bother to record them in the first place), you'd think they would naturally want to preserve all of this groundbreaking material. Granted they didn't realize that Hancock, Dr Who and the countless other shows that are presently missing would come to be as fondly regarded as they now are but how did they not realize that they could save money by recording the shows and then repeating them? I admit this would be harder to do with TV shows since the reels required to record them were expensive and they felt they needed to wipe them in order to make new shows but tape recorders couldn't have been that expensive at the time, they could easily have recorded the audio from the radio shows that are now lost. Weirdly I think that learning about all the missing media from the BBC and elsewhere was one of the things that made me want to start this blog in the first place (I've been blogging every day since 2012). Admittedly nothing I've ever written has been of any more value than a quick chuckle ever now and again (by every now and again I mean maybe once a month) but at least I now have a record of at least one thing I did or thought about every day for the last decade. In some sense all of those years have not been lost, some tiny fragment of every day has been preserved just because I remembered to write something down. I can only hope that enough fans at the time did actually bother to record these shows and they're currently sitting on reel to reel tapes in attics or at car boot sales waiting to be re-discovered. Watched a few Buzzfeed Unsolved videos. The guys who put this show together are super talented, really funny and clearly must do research on the topic they cover until their eyes start to bleed. One of their most famous videos is the one where they recap and offer their opinions on the OJ Simpson trial. I tried to learn about this case through watching The People Vs OJ Simpson but I lost interest after a few episodes, possibly because every time David Schwimmer appears on screen I just see Ross from Friends. I get that the jury at the time was convinced that the cops prosecuting OJ were racist but at the same time just because one of the guys on the prosecution team is a bigot doesn't mean you should ignore the evidence the rest of the team puts forward. For me the mere fact that the jury didn't click on that the reason OJ couldn't get the bloody glove on his hand was because he was wearing a rubber glove underneath it is clear proof that they weren't the brightest bunch. Also the jury swore that they had never heard of OJ Simpson but the guy was one of the most famous people in the world (and now as a result of this trial probably one of the most famous who ever lived) so even if they might not have been able to list off his athletic accomplishments or go through his career highlights they were bound to know something about him. What they should have done is got a bunch of people from the Asmat tribe in New Guinea (the ones who probably ate Michael Rockefeller) brought them over to the US and had them be the jury in the trial (I know that sounds a bit like slavery but it wouldn't be since they would be sent back as soon as the trial was over...so it's more like kidnapping). There's no way that these Asmat guys would definitely never have ever heard of OJ Simpson and so they'd be the perfect people to judge whether he was a murderer (although I guarantee that somehow, some way if David Schwimmer walked into the courtroom they tribe would exclaim in their native language "Look! It's Ross From Friends"). Anywho, long story short OJ definitely did it. Definitely. Not even a shadow of a fucking doubt. And even if it turns out that he didn't do it, he definitely did do it! (Incidentally I came up with an idea for an episode of Black Mirror about an actor from a famous sitcom who gets typecast so signs up to have his brain put into the body of a robot. However something goes wrong and the actor ends up having his brain put into the body of a robot...kangaroo. I'm going to call it: "David Schwimmer The Kangaroo". And yes I realize it might be more fitting to have Matt Le Blanc play the title role and have the android take the form of a baby kangaroo just so I could use the title "Joey The Joey" but no, my gut tells me David Schwimmer the Kangaroo is the moneymaker

[hoodieofholland]

Maybe can u write something like reader and Tom broke up a while ago and Tom finds sex tape so he gets emotional and horny at the same time and he realise how much he misses her ?

a/n: sad and horny sounds like how i feel whenever thinking about tom and the fact that my fics are just fics lol jk anyways, hope you like it and thanks for requesting :)

NSFW CONTENT BELLOW

Warnings: angst and sad stuff, mentions of smut, language, broke up

The house was quiet, filled with the feeling of lost that has consuming Tom for the last two months. It's been hard, he made no attempt to lie to anyone who asked. It was hard to face the fact that you were no longer there.

You and Tom were in a relationship for three beautiful years, until... you weren't. Something was off, but he couldn't say what. Both of you just split apart gradually, till the day you said goodbye.

Tom tried to come up with something to distract his mind from the thought of you. He played golf twice a week, spent some time with Harrison and his brothers, watched some movies alone. And it was starting to work. He felt like moving on for the past three weeks, not thinking about you all the time.

But there was one thing he started doing tonight that seemed to bring him down again. He sat down with his laptop and scrolled through some of your memories together. It wasn't his intention at first, but he had nothing to do and was too off to watch a movie or hang with his mates, so he just thought about organizing his files when his eyes crossed with the fold that held some of his old photos. There were plenty of pictures and videos that you took. He promised himself he would drop it off, but he just couldn't take his eyes from the screen when a video came to his view.

"Stop filming me!", you yelled in a high-pitched voice while giggling at the camera Tom was holding.

"Well, miss, would you mind telling me why I thought it was so interesting filming you in this lovely evening?" Tom's voice came through the speaker, and he smiled when you bite your lips to hide a sheepishly smile.

"I burned a whole batch of cookies down", you muttered, quite amused for your lack of skills in the kitchen. Your boyfriend laughed hard and you did the same. "Shut up, dork. I'm calling Sam".

"Yeah, you better, or we're not gonna eat anything", Tom teased and you shoved his chest. "Just kiddin', love. C'mere".

And then Tom, sat on bed, lost the smile on his lips. In the video, you two were kissing, and you had an amazing smile while pecking his lips.

"Love you, darling".

"Love you too, Tommy. Now, stop this video and make this british ass useful".

He breathed heavily, determined to stop it. He was doing good now. Or at least the best he has done since you went away. But it was good enough to carry on, and he was risking it again.

But then he saw a couple of interesting frames from other records and decide to click on each one of them.

"Oh, what is it that we have here?", he said to the camera, walking inside the room and pointing it at you. You were in front of a mirror, a new lingerie playing in display for him and the camera. "Wow, darling. Didn't tell me you were putting on a show tonight".

Tom was amazed by the way both of you were so bold to each other, so comfortable with talking to a camera, while you bounced your hips in a sensual manner to him with a teasing yet sweet smile on your lips.

"It was supposed to be a surprise, Tommy", you say, resting your hands on your hips. "What you think, though?"

"Well...", he sighed dramatically and you laughed. "Can you turn around one more time for me, love? So I can give my final opinion".

You shake your head in disbelief, half laughing at his attempt, but oblige his ask.

"I think you're bloody stunning, darling. Fucking hell, how did I get so lucky?"

Tom shifts on his spot uncomfortably, feeling a light pressure on his chest at the memory of your laughing and blushing at his sassy comments.

"Yeah?", you smiled, and by the way your arms were stretched in the video, he can tell you were tugging on the collar of his shirt. "Mind stop recording it and showing me how much of a lucky man you are?"

"Fuck, dar-" and the video ended. Sat there, Tom knew pretty way what happened next. He remembered the taste of your skin when he tried to take your panties with only his teeth, tongue tracing a wet path on the softness of your hipbone.

He takes a deep breath, too aware of how fucked up he was feeling right now. He should have stopped, he knew that, but now, he just felt like another video couldn't hurt much more.

He was definitely wrong.

Bringing himself to play the next one, an older video, he realized he didn't remember about that one. It started with your face, smiling at the camera while fixing something behind it.

"Okay, I think it's alright...", you said, licking your lips as you clasped your hands together. When you stepped back, you were wearing only bra and panties, and Tom was laid on the mattress, hand over his visible bulge, stroking himself lazily over his boxers as his free arm rested behind his head.

"You look so beautiful right now" he said, groaning a little. "C'mere here, baby, can't wait much longer".

"Patience, eager boy. Save some for the camera", you giggled while crawling on bed to sit on his lap.

"Fuck, can't believe we doing this", he said, hands automatically running down from your hips to your ass. He gives it a firm slap and squeeze. "Gonna treat you just right, so you won't need any video to remind you who made you feel this good, baby".

Tom had completely forgotten that he still had that video saved in his laptop. He suddenly felt flushed for watching it after you broke up, but then again he couldn't take his eyes off the screen when you were taking out your bra, freeing your pretty boobs.

The sounds of your whines and moans filled the room now, and Tom could swear he felt your touch just by the way he remembered of how good it was. Watching you so intense, so given to him, he started to feel his cock hardening by the thought of you riding him like you did that night.

"Fuck", he mutters to himself as he watched you being flipped on the mattress when the pleasure was too much to take and your legs too weak to keep going. In the video, Tom started to fuck you, one of your legs wide open for him and your eyes rolled back as you tugged hard on his biceps to keep yourself steady. Watching the scene, Tom brought his hand over his crotch and started to feel a bit of what he was feeling that night, as he palmed himself.

Right now, Tom knew he had taken a path that was no longer healthy. He so desperately needed to feel you, to touch you. He missed you. He missed the way you would moan his name, they way your hands would grip on his hair when he was eating you out, the way you laughed when something came wrong in the moment, but kept so horny that it wouldn't matter. He missed you and all the affection that you both shared when having sex.

"Tom, I'm gonna-" you moaned loud. It was almost pornographic, but surely was better than porn. For a second, Tom thought about getting off with the video. He was fucking horny at this point, after all, and he knew damn well that if he touched himself it'd be you on his mind all the time anyways. Besides, he hadn't fucked since you went away. But then again, when it was coming to an end, he felt sad, watching you both reaching your highs and holding each other for dear life. It was intimate and beautiful. He missed that too.

"Need to turn off the camera, darling", he said, breath still heavy as he propped his hand on the mattress. You held him closer, not giving him a chance to move.

"Not yet", you breathed out. You still wanted to keep yourself full of him, feel his cock inside of you. "I'm not ready", you bite your lips and smile when he nodded and gave you a kiss on your cheek. "I love you, Tom".

"Love you so fucking mu-"

Tom shot the laptop down, eyes tearing up as he felt the clench on his chest. Fuck, he missed you more than he was willing to admit, more than he wanted to. The images of you close to him, whispering his name, it wouldn't leave his mind even if he closed his eyes tightly.

Tom knew that night would be long, and he just hoped that he might feel you close to him in that way again.

*************

Taglist:

@pinkrockstar19 @onyourgoddamnleft @spideyspeaches

@miraclesoflove @zspideyy

[lebrookestore]

tape 5: play

Pairing: Zhong Chenle x reader

Themes: angst, ex! au, college-ish au, small town au. It goes back and forth a lot

Warnings: heavy angst, bittersweet ending, swearing, its very sad, chenle is a jerk

Wc: 6k

Playlist: 2 kids by Taemin, Gone by Rosé, Instagram by Dean, I still do by Why Don’t We, Believed by Lauv

Taglist: @danishmiilk @channoticedmeuwu @chicksung @1-800-seo @blueprint-han @jenosslut @cupidluvstarrz @kkakkdugi @sweetlyjaem @vera-liscious @leetaeyonglover @kunrengui @unknown5tar @kisshim @intokook @mrkcore @coco-riki

Summary: A year after your boyfriend moved away, you find yourself sitting in your room with five tapes, earphones, a cassette player and what you hoped, and feared, was closure.

Authors Note: hello! this fic was supposed to be a small blurb but then i got inspired and lo and behold its a full fledged fic! I can’t believe I wrote this in two days sdfjfjkfjk. Feedback would be very much appreciated for this, since I’ve never written anything like this before ;-;

Midtown, almost got a place out of midtown, Instead I took a plane out of this town, And missed out on us 

~

It was a sunny Saturday morning, as you pulled into your driveway, coming back from the store. 

Parking the car and getting the bags, you walked up to the door, knocking it and waiting. You were met with your mother’s smiling face as she took one of the bags of groceries from you.

You lived in a small sleepy town, and attended the college there as well, which meant you still stayed with your parents. You were fine with that, you liked living there, and you could forgo the stress and anxiety of having to re adjust to a new place.

This was your home. It always had been.

Of course, you had been on holidays to other places, you had visited the other town, but when it came to it, you had always found yourself back where you started. There was no other place for you, there never would be.

It was the truth, but it held something bitter.

Then again, you had enough going on already, with being in your freshman year, straight out of high school, college life was very different. You had been to a total of two parties so far, courtesy of your best friend— Lia— dragging you with her. 

You had enjoyed them, but it wasn’t something you would voluntarily participate in again.

The workload was something that had definitely changed, bogged down with mandatory lectures and assignments, tests popping up like a bad smell, you had more than enough to occupy you.

“Something has arrived for you!” Your mother said, almost excitedly, “It’s on the table.”

You helped her put away the groceries, walking to your living room, eyes falling on the package sitting on the table. It was somewhat shabbily wrapped, with tape haphazardly stuck on it to keep it together, and a tag pasted on the top.

Picking it up, you pass it from your right hand to your left, feeling its weight, reading the little tag. It held your address, your name and another name you hadn’t seen in almost a year.

Your mind ran at a hundred miles per minute, wondering why it was here, why his name was on it. It made no sense to you.

“Darling? Are you okay?”

Your mothers voice snapped out of your reverie, nodding slowly, “I’ll be in my room, finishing off a project”, you said carefully, trying not to show any sort of emotion as you climbed up the stairs of your house, two at a time, making sure not to drop the package.

Closing the door, you place it on your bed, reading over the tag again, a bitter taste filling your mouth. A name you hadn’t thought of in a year coming back now. It was so random, so absolutely unnecessary.

You curled your fingers around the messy brown paper, tearing it open as your mind reeled. The crackling sound filled the silence as the contents of it make itself known to you.

A shoebox.

It’s dusty, a dark blue colour with a line of red running at its side. There were two holes on either end, lined with metal piping and you could just about make out the nike symbol on the top. You brushed your hand over it, the dust coming off easily and sticking to your fingers.

Why would he send you this?

His name sticks out on the tag like a sore thumb, reminding you of what you lost, mocking you. Always content with where you are, hmm? His voice comes back, as clear as day. It’s as if he’s standing there, giving you his chesire cat grin as he spoke the words.

Zhong Chenle.

Lifting the lid off the box, you’re thrown into confusion. A cassette player, a pair of earphones, and five tapes. Picking up the player, you smile briefly at the dramatic set up. He could’ve called you, or sent a message, so why did he take the pains of sending you something as old and unnecessary as this?

Then again, it had been a year since he stopped picking up your calls, since you stopped trying to call him.  A year since all contact had been cut off, as if he had never existed in the first place.

Sometimes you wondered if Chenle had been a hallucination. An imaginary friend.

Friend.

The questions filter in. Why? It had been a year, so why had he sent you this now? You had finally told yourself you were over it, that you didn’t need an answer, but somehow as soon as you did that, you found yourself sitting in your room on your bed with what could be it.

The tapes were numbered in permanent marker in his messy handwriting, from one to five, indicating the order in which they were to be listened to in. You picked up the first, slotting it in the player and waiting.

You didn’t know what you were waiting for.

You pressed play. There was crackling, but only for a moment, until  it went silent. Maybe this was all a mistake, maybe this wasn’t even happening. Maybe-

i] tape 1: you deserve to hate me

Hey

His voice cut through your spiraling thoughts as you froze in place. He sounded the same as you last heard him, a little muffled due to the recording but the same. At the same time he sounded like a stranger. There was silence for a moment again, before he spoke up.

This is stupid isn’t it?

You felt the urge to answer, but your mouth went dry. It had been so, so long, and even though you had adequate time to get over him, it suddenly felt as if you were treading unfamiliar territory once again. 

I-I don’t know why I’m doing this. I think it’s because I feel so horrible, I need an outlet. I guess speaking it into existence and recording it makes is my outlet. Making it all real.

But that’s fucking terrifying.

You don’t think you’re following, confused once again. 

Y/n

You hear him take a deep breath right after your name, and it sends a chill down your spine, hearing him say your name once again. You had almost forgotten how it sounded.

I don’t know if you’ll ever hear this, or listen to it. If you don’t I’ll actually be glad. You don’t deserve to, I’ve been a jerk to you. I’m sorry. I hope you hate me, I definitely deserve it.

I’m moving in two months.

The realization hits you, this had been recorded a year ago as well, two months before he left without a word or warning. It was old, he was here when he recorded it.

You didn’t quiet know how you felt, not yet anyways.

And you won’t know until I’m gone.

I’m moving to Korea, and I refuse to tell you, even if it makes me the bad guy, even if it feels worse, because that’s my dream. 

I got signed by a record label after sending them that demo I did —remember it? We both went to the studio together, you listening outside as I sang. You were right by my side, all the time.

Except now when I record this, except when I leave. 

I refuse to tell you, because the moment I do I know it’ll be real, realer than it is now as I say it. I don’t want to see the look on your face when I say I’m going, I know it’ll make me want to stay, but I don’t want to stay.

You knew exactly what he was talking about, you could recollect that day clearly. There was a small studio a little outside the town. That day, he had booked it for two hours to record a demo, his singing mentor with him and you tagging along.

It had always been like that, the two of you against the world, until, of course he left.

I physically can’t stay, I hate it here Y/n. It’s not for me, I want to get out, that had always been the plan. I want to get out and be free, I want to achieve my dreams. Maybe it’s selfish, maybe I don’t deserve a minute more of your time, but I want it all.

That’s why I’m not going to tell you —so I can have it all, at least until I don’t have you.

But you, you don’t deserve this, do you? Of course you don’t, but I suppose you’re the one with the shitty luck, you’re the one who ended up with me and now I’m going to hurt you. 

He laughs a dry, breathy laugh. It was half hearted, as if he was trying to get himself to believe the situation was funny. 

It’s not your fault I-fuck I’m sorry.

You heard a click and the tape died off, he had stopped recording there. The first tape was finished, and honestly, you didn’t know how to react. One part of you wanted to feel nothing, you wanted to put the player and the five tapes back into the box and send them away, or lock them in your closet to never find them again.

But the other part of you wanted to know more. You wanted to know how he felt, what went through his mind during that time. You wanted to know just how you lost Chenle, the first boy you ever loved.

Suddenly you felt overwhelmed, vulnerable almost. It was as if someone had opened up an old wound and left it open.

You got to your feet abruptly, pulling the earphones from your ears and dropping them on your bed, taking a step away and blinking rapidly. You couldn’t get caught up in the past, you couldn’t put yourself through that again.

But it was hard when the past was in your present.

Wasted, and all of my regret, I can taste it, If I had a time-machine, I would take it, And make it back to us

~

That night you couldn’t sleep.

The box sat on your desk, right next to your laptop, staring at you. You turned around on your bed, looking the other way, only to be met with the white of the walls.

You never liked the colour white.

It was too plain, too open for interpretation. It never had a solid answer. You liked stability, you wanted something permanent. You were the type of person that needed that reassurance.

Perhaps that’s why you were happy where you were, you didn’t find the appeal in starting over, because that meant nothing was certain. You stayed where you were because everything was already laid out for you.

It was like a colouring book in your little town, the lines all set out, everything drawn for you. Change meant you had to sketch everything from scratch. What if you messed up?

Needless to say, it was a good thing you weren’t an art major.

“This is ridiculous”, you whispered to yourself, sighing at the fact that you were now talking to yourself. You rolled over so that you were lying on your back, staring at the ceiling. The glow in the dark stars shone with their dull green light. You remember the day you had put them up, with Chenle.

You shared a lot of memories with him.

“Fucking hell”, you hissed, sitting up, swinging your legs off the edge of your bed and walking to your desk, sitting on the chair. Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you picked up the second tape, inserting it in the player and putting the earphones on, waiting for it to begin.

ii] tape 2: milk before cereal

I know I’m making some terrible decisions, I really do, but if there’s one thing I stand by, its the fact that milk definitely goes before the cereal.

Why am I talking about this?

Well, because today you came over, Y/n, you came over and the two of us were watching a movie, and in the middle of it, you decided you wanted to have cereal, specifically frosted flakes.

So what do we do? We have cereal because I can’t say no to you. You’re welcome by the way, honestly, I deserve the boyfriend of the year award.

A moment of silence.

No I don’t. I really don’t.

You bit your lower lip, shutting your eyes. It was the way he switched, the way his demeanor changes so suddenly that made you want to scream. Sometimes it felt like he was telling a story, one you knew and loved.

Only for the next moment to bring you down to reality, reminding you that all stories don't have happy endings.

Anyways, we got the cereal and you objected when I put the milk first, saying that it was wrong, but how? In what way? Here me out Y/n, I shall tell you why I’m right, even If I’m not actually talking to you.

You couldn’t help but scoff at this, shaking your head at Chenle. He had always had a flair for being dramatic in the littlest ways possible. It was endearing.

Putting the cereal first means it sits in the milk for longer! If you put the cereal last, you can have it crunchy! Isn’t that ten times better? Unless you’re one of the devils spawn and like soggy cereal. If so I’m hypothetically breaking up with you right here right now.

Ah...bad wording. I keep forgetting I have to break up with you. I don’t want to, is that selfish?

You deserve the truth, if only I was strong enough to give it to you. Staying silent is so much easier.

It’s not lying, not completely anyways. I’m not lying if I don’t tell you at all. I suppose it’s a half truth then, with the truth hidden in plain sight. 

*click*

Lying. That’s what he did, even though he spent the last few minutes of the tape trying to justify it, he lied. He trampled all over your heart without a single warning.

You had trusted Chenle, having known him since you were thirteen. He had completely destroyed that trust. Something like that couldn’t be fixed so easily, not even if he had sent you these tapes.

Then again, you didn’t know why he sent them.

You retreated to your bed, turning away from the tapes, the words and memories they held, facing white once again.

You had met Chenle when the two of you were thirteen, in eight grade math. The boy was failing the class, and one day you found him sitting early morning in class, with his head in his hands as he groaned over some sort of equation.

You had offered to help, and the smile he gave was the brightest one you had ever seen, he was practically grinning from ear to ear. That was the beginning of your friendship, and the two of you were inseperable.

Ninth grade it was confirmed that the two of you were best friends, sitting together, complaining about teachers together, going places together so your parents didn’t need to tag along.

In your last year of high school the two of you started dating, and when you had told your parents, they were ecstatic, confessing they had always thought the two of you would end up together.

He was always there for you, every time you needed him. You could give him a call and he would be outside your door. If you were feeling insecure or scared, he was always there to hype you up.

You had been best friends before, you were lovers then, and it was amazing. You loved everything about being with Chenle. You loved everything about him, from his toothy grin to his obnoxiously loud laugh.

You loved the way his eyes sparkled when he had an idea (which, for the most part, were absolutely terrible. Needless to say the two of you got in trouble a lot), when he sang for you when you stayed over, the way he would always make sure you were never cold.

You loved him.

It was written in the stars, you were meant to be, it was the perfect combination. Chenle was the right person for you- the perfect person.

A year later you woke up with him gone, no texts, no warnings. He had just gone, leaving you alone.

Right person, wrong time.

Monday came around sooner than you thought it would, the weekend passing in a blur as you walked out of your first class, spotting Lia leaning against the wall outside your class, scrolling through something on her phone.

She was an exchange student, not originally from your town, but had fit right in. Sometimes you wished you could be like that.

“Oh! You’re out! Listen, there’s a party on Friday and you’re coming with me”, she stated. It wasn’t a request, it was a fact, you were to go with her. In her own words, ‘if I didn’t exist you’d probably have no social life.’

To be fair, she wasn’t wrong.

You nodded defeatedly, walking with her down the hallway, “I assume you want to go because of the cute new guy?”

She glared, but didn’t refute your accusation, “His name is Mark”, she said, “And that is none of your business.”

You snickered, “Oh it so is, you like him don’t you? Is this going to be another one of your crushes?”

Lia was notorious for having a new crush almost every week, being a very flighty person, her mind changed before you could even say her name. This was a bit of a problem, considering you went to her for advice a lot.

Her indecisive nature was not the best for that.

She rolled her eyes at this, “He’s cute, why not? Wonder if I can get him to dance with me at the party. You’re going to be my hype woman-”

“And the sober buddy?”

Lia ignored that.

“Also there’s this new singer”, she said, handing you one of her earbuds, “apparently he came from here!”

Taking one of the earbuds, you were hit with a familiar voice. It sounded amazing honestly, catchy, everything a song needed, but it was the voice that hit you. You didn’t even need to ask Lia for the singer, swallowing the lump in your throat and glancing at her phone, which confirmed your suspicions.

Filling with some sort of dread, your hands immediately went to hold your hand, specifically the bottom where the cassette player and the tapes were. You had been carrying them around with you, as if scared they would disappear if you left them alone.

“Isn’t he good?”

You nodded, not daring to answer as you bit your lower lip, “Hey Lili, I need to use the washroom so see ya later”, you said, handing her the earbud and taking off in the other direction, pushing open the doors to the washroom and getting into one of the stalls.

You had stalled listening to the next tape all Sunday, you didn’t even know why, but hearing him sing, that fact that he had actually made it, it struck something in you. You wanted to feel proud of him, but all you felt was bitter.

Was it a coincidence that this new singer had come out- Chenle himself- right when you received the tapes?

Pushing the top of the toilet down, you took a seat, taking the player out and plugging in, you pressed play for the third tape, waiting for it to begin playing.

tape iii] ill miss our dates

Remember when we went for that field trip? Ninth grade? We sat in the back of the bus together avoiding the stares of our teachers when they told us to sit down?

Then they pulled us apart? Yeah, mean fuckers.

Anyways, that’s not what I wanted to talk about, I just felt like reminiscing for a sec there, but today we went of a date! Well, I mean we got ice cream and then went to the park, but hey, it was fun.

You smiled. He had always jumped from one topic to another without any meaning to either. Sometimes it was a frustrating habit, (you had been on the receiving end of these useless conversations several times, which ended with you glaring at him exasperatedly), but for the most part, extremely comical.

I’m going to miss that. I’m going to miss you. Your little smile — have I ever told you just how pretty your smile is? Your eyes light up and crinkle at the sides and its something I don’t think I’ll ever forget, even when I’m gone. 

You clutched the cassette player, marveling at the irony. He was talking about your smile, but why did you want to cry?

It’s a month left now, and I want to make the most of it. Tomorrow I’m taking you to the amusement part and then next week I’m surprising you with dinner. I guess doing things for you —for us — makes me feel better, like I’m compensating.

You deserve the world Y/n, and I want to see that world while you’re happy where you are.

You don’t deserve having to deal with me.

*click*

Your eyes burned, because you remembered each of those events. You had been so happy, so overjoyed at them. They burned with tears because there it was again, that reminder that you were destined to be stuck right where you were, because you were that idiot who was content.

But if someone, anyone, asked you at that very moment if you were happy, the answer would’ve been an outright no.

1 YEAR AGO

~

“Hey Chenle?”

“Hmm?”

“Why do you want to leave?”

The boy thought about this for a second, before smiling wistfully, “Don’t you want to know how it is outside home?”

“But everything I need is here.”

Your eyes held a question, you were genuinely baffled by his reasoning, the way he was so stuck of getting out. You studied your bewildered expression, shaking his head. “You’re lucky”, he said finally, “You know exactly what you want.”

“Of course I don’t, but I know what I need Chenle, and that’s all around me.”

He shook away his other thoughts, “Hey maybe we’ll go exploring the world together some day. 

You blinked, “You want me there with you?”

He nodded, grinning widely, “I want to take you along, Imagine, it’ll be fucking awesome, and hey this time there will be no teachers to separate us. We can even stand in the bus-if we’re taking a bus, that it.”

You laughed, “Maybe”, you mused, looking back down at your phone, “While I don’t exactly see the appeal, it would be fun to be with you.”

Chenle’s smile faltered, but he didn’t let it fall completely, wrapping his arms around you and sighing, closing his eyes and whispering something just loud enough for you to hear.

“Maybe.”

Why did it feel this way?

Chenle was right- you didn’t deserve this, you didn’t deserve to feel this way at all. It had been a year, so why did it affect you?

Why was it all happening at once?

You clicked your tongue, eyeing the player with contempt. You felt pathetic for being curious, for still feeling so attached to old news. It wasn’t as if it was going to change anything, so why?

Why did you still want to know?

Curiosity killed the cat. You wondered if knowing would somehow kill you.

No one was at home currently, so you sat in the living room on your couch. The items you were trying so hard to ignore were sitting on the small table in front of the couch, as if waiting for you to pick them up once again.

You wondered if you should tell Lia and ask her opinion about the situation. She may not be that helpful, but hell, she could help you burn the tapes if worse came to worse.

Sometimes you wished you had never met Chenle, that your history with him could be erased from your memories. You wished it never existed because fuck, it still hurt.

Taking a deep breath, you steeled yourself and pressed play.

tape iv] firsts with you

Do you remember our first kiss?

We were eighteen, in my room, playing Jenga. That was a year ago, oh god, I can’t even imagine, how has it been a year? You were wearing one of my shirts and jeans, your hair was in a ponytail. The two of us were sitting on the carpet on my floor.

You had successfully gotten one of the wooden pieces out of a risky area of the tower, but then it was my turn, it feel to the ground, destroyed.

I blamed you, and you laughed, and our banter continued. We argued and at one point I started tickling you to get you to shut up, because honestly-Jesus Christ Y/n you’re fucking stubborn.

Anyways I ended up on top of you and the two of us were laughing. You looked so pretty, hair messily scattered around your face as you attempted to get out of my hold. 

I leaned down and kissed you.

Your throat closed up as he spoke. Your eyes stung and you raked your hand through your hair, biting down on your lower lip. The way he was speaking about it, as if he would do anything to go back, it struck something in you.

Because if you had the chance, you would go back as well.

You tasted like that strawberry chapstick you liked to wear. I could tell you were surprised, because you didn’t kiss me back for a good two seconds  —which, by the way sent me into a panic for a moment there.

But then you kissed me, and fuck, it was like everything had stopped. I couldn’t think for a second, it was like the world had started spinning around me, and the only thing that was keeping me grounded, was you.

Was it supposed to hurt like this?

You sucked in a sharp breath, fingers fisted the material of your shirt as you tried keeping your composure. You didn’t want to cry, but he was making it so, so hard for you. 

You remembered how it felt when he kissed you, you were legitimately so confused, was he really kissing you? Your best friend, the boy you had loved quietly for so long, kissing you?

Chenle was your first kiss, and it was the most perfect first kiss you could have ever asked for, even if you were on the floor, with random Jenga blocks scattered around the two of you.

The smile you gave me after I pulled away, I wish I could remember it forever. It was goofy as you burst into giggles, and asked me, “What was that for?”

I blinked in surprise, wondering how you seemed so normal, when for me everything had changed. I had kissed my best friend, the one girl I care the most about.

I must have looked like a tomato oh god.

Instead of waiting for my to answer, you sat up, pulling me into another kiss. This time it was me who was unprepared. The kiss was messy, it had no structure or plan, but I realized in that moment, that I really liked kissing you, and I wanted to do it more often.

You became my girlfriend.

The wistful tone he was using was starting to affect you. You had loved Chenle, almost too much. You could almost feel that nostalgic happiness you felt that day when he kissed you for the first time, the disbelief and joy that wrapped around the two of you. 

A wave of sadness followed that nostalgia.

Our first date was so fucking awkward. We were at that little cafe you loved, you ordered a cheesecake and I got a smoothie, and then we sat in silence for a good five minutes.

It really shouldn’t have been that painful, considering we knew everything about each other already, then again that might be why it was awkward, I had nothing to ask you about.

So naturally I brought up school and that started it, the two of us complaining about the amount of assignments we had, and Mrs. Choi’s annoying squeaky voice- I swear to god that woman took a second for each word.

But I digress.

Slowly our conversation felt normal again, it was just us, eating cheesecake and drinking smoothies, together.

That wave of sadness crashed down upon you like a tsunami, trying to snuff you out. It felt like you couldn’t breathe, you were struggling to keep yourself together. You were struggling to stay afloat, you had lost any leverage you had that was holding you up.

You couldn’t fight the waves.

My flight is in two hours. It’s four in the morning and we’re about to walk through the door and get to the airport, but I wanted to talk to you once again, even if we’re not really talking.

I’m pathetic.

You’re sleeping, in your bed at your home, you don’t know I’m going because I’m the coward that refused to tell you the truth. I’ll be gone by the time you wake up and then you’ll know.

You’ll know how much of a waste of time I was.

And then you were angry.

You were angry because he had no right to just come back into your life like this, no fucking right to make you cry. He wasn’t even here, but somehow he had managed to make you fall apart just with his words, with his voice.

He had no right to tear your world apart, the little composure you had standing. You had finally accepted the fact that he was gone, you had moved on, and even tried to forget.

But here he was, making sure you could never forget.

You hated how selfish he was, how absolutely fucking oblivious. He had no clue, not even one as to how you felt when he just disappeared from your life, as if he never existed. He had broken you and here he was, breaking you again.

With trembling hands, you stopped the tape from playing any further, angry tears making their way down your face as you flung the player across the room. You had no intention of listening any further, you didn’t want to, you didn’t care.

Closure hurt more than him leaving.

You buried your head in your hands, letting yourself fall apart, but just this once.

tape iv] continued [unheard]

I’m sorry Y/n. I’m so fucking sorry. 

You don’t have to believe me, because I’m leaving anyways, so I suppose that cancels out my apologies huh? I’m the worst person you ever met. I’m not stopping, I’m not going to leave you a text.

Because I don’t want to hurt you anymore.

I’ll be gone before we could ever be.

Should’ve believed in us, while we existed, cuz now the whole things fucked, and just a figment of my imagination

~

Time heals all hurt, and reminders bring them back, cutting through your skin like a knife, making you bleed.

A week later, you found yourself sitting in your favorite cafe, the same cafe Chenle talked about in the last tape. You ordered a cheesecake and a smoothie, inserting the fifth and final tape into the player.

The last time you did this, you were left hurt and distraught, promising yourself you would never go back to listen to him again. You had put the shoebox in your closet, hiding it behind your clothes that hung from the rack.

Yet here you were.

You didn’t bother finishing the fourth tape, you didn’t see the need to. 

This tape, you observed, was newer looking, with less scratches on the plastic, even the marker on the side looked more recent, a little rushed if you went into detail. 

The cheesecake and drink arrived, and you took a bite, pressing play.

tape v] play

Hey.

He sounded a little different too, older perhaps. His voice was smoother, but he sounded unsure of himself. It sounded as if he was trying to figure out how to approach the topic. He was being cautious.

It’s been a while. I...I don’t know why I’m doing this. There’s no point- you’re not even here. I found these stupid tapes yesterday in my dorm when I was cleaning out and gave them a listen.

Silence.

I envy you, Y/n. I wish I was like you, happy wherever I was. But I’m not, and I probably caused you great unhappiness while trying to search for my own- but I was happy with you, so happy it was ridiculous.

I sabotaged that.

You sighed, realizing you felt nothing. You were tired of crying over Chenle, you were done doing that. Instead you felt empty, like you had been tired out, like it didn’t matter anymore. At this point you were to get it over with, to finish it off on  clean ending note.

My song comes out next week, and it’ll be done. I’ve made it Y/n, I’ve gotten to where I wanted to be, the place I had worked so hard to get to. I’ve sacrificed so much for this and it’s all been worth it- except one thing.

I don’t expect you to listen to my song, I just wanted to tell you. I..I hope you’re proud of me. Even if I was a jerk, I hope you can be proud, at least a little bit, because then I’ll have finally made it.

I miss you.

The same words are at the tip of your tongue, I miss you, I miss you so fucking much, but they never came out. They didn’t have to, it would be useless. He would never hear them.

Instead, you swallowed them back down.

And even though I made fun of you for staying home, I hope you’re happy like I am, I hope we’ll meet again one day. If we do I challenge you to a game of Jenga, loser buys the winner ice cream.

I-fuck this is the hardest part- but I hope you’ve moved on. One of us has to.

*click*

You don’t take the tape out of the player, you don’t touch it at all. You feel oddly calm as you take another bite of your cheesecake, savoring the strawberry reserve that it came with it. You could almost imagine yourself at eighteen again sitting opposite your new boyfriend.

You missed it, the memories that came along with it. That was it, you missed the feelings you had.

But you were okay. You would be okay right where you were, because that’s where you belonged. It hurt, yeah, but it had hurt back then as well. Now it was just a dull ache, all that was left was regret.

Regret that it didn’t work out, regret over unspoken words and unnecessary pain.

A familiar song filled the cafe as you smiled somewhat sadly, leaning back in your seat and closing your eyes.

“I’m proud of you Chenle”, you whispered, “Because you did what I couldn’t”

You left the cafe a little later, with the cassettes in your bag, an empty plate and the smoothie sitting on the table, untouched. After all, that smoothie wasn’t for you.

There was nothing to wait for anymore. You had loved and you had lost, Chenle was a stranger with your secrets and a familiar voice and that was it. 

You had forgiven him a long time ago, even without him being deserving of it. Now with all the loose ends being tied up, it felt like you could finally let go of him, you could finally move on.

And forget.