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im-not-samantha-im-samanta · 1 year ago

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Request by: @jellibean2018

Hello, Jelli! About two months ago you sent in a request, however my tumbl did me dirty, and I ended up with your ask, and the entire fic deleted! (Though, much to my relief, I found screenshots of the fic in a chat with my friend who was reviewing it. Thank god).

So, I have to tag you, and remind you what you wanted.

From what I remember, you wanted a fic with a female sinner Reader who was once a victim of Alastor's, and the two ending up meeting again in hell. You also wanted an unsettling vibe with Alastor reveling in the memory of killing Reader.

I also want to add that I apologize for how long you had to wait for this fic to be done. I haven't been doing well with fics lately, so this was a struggle. And my mental health started going shit too which is why I stopped posting for so long...

Anyways, I really started to struggle with writing fics, so I ended up experimenting with this one - it's kind of written with huge metaphor kind of style? Hope that's okay with you...

Anyways, hope you'll enjoy reading this at least a little, and I once again apologize.

🎙️// The sweet history we share... //🎙️

{Alastor x female!Reader}

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Type: Fanfic

Settings: Not specified

Genre: Unsettling? Can't tell if it actually gives that vibe though,

!TRIGGER WARNING!: Mentions of cannibalism, murder, violence, blood, saliva, dead bodies, Alastor revels in the memory of killing Reader, possible yandere vibes? Alastor sees Reader as nothing but a meal, but he puts her on a pedestal - that's probably some kind of fucked up attachment that surely has a name? I'd say the vibe is quite unsettling, but I can't say that for sure, Angel indirectly suggests the use of drugs and hints at sex related activities (but it's just a single line), and that's probably all?

Sidenote: Reader is written as a female just as requested,

Sidenote: I have no idea if I wrote Alastor well... but it feels like I really made him ooc as fuck and ruined the whole request,

Sidenote: Rereading this I think everyone is ooc as fuck even if they have minimum dialogue,

That should be all,

Hope you'll enjoy,

___________________________________________

Ah, nostalgia. Ah that sweet nostalgia. And that embrace of her.

She comes in unannounced, an unexpected guest. But oh is she welcome.

And oh so welcome are those treats she brings to the table.

She easily settles in, making herself at home. And into a cup, a bunch of memories she pours.

And that demon, the radio demon as he's called - he drinks from that cup greedily.

And like a man dying of thirst, he can't help but ask for another cup to be poured.

His senses feel high, his body tingling. A feeling of addiction is what fills him.

And he can't get enough of those sweet memories, so, he downs one cup after the other.

But with each greedy little sip, the thirst only grows and grows - he's not had his fill still.

So, the demon goes on and on, tasting one memory after the other.

And his mouth waters a big deal the more he can taste, and he savours each and every one.

Ah, and he can't tell which one of the sips of memories he enjoys the most, which one is the most saliva inducing one.

Is it maybe the giddy old memory of how he followed you through the town?

With you completely unaware? Naively trusting those poorly enlightened streets?

Trusting that a bit of weak light will keep you safe?

Or perhaps it could be the sweet memory of the thrilling chase through the forest?

That one forest where thousands of dead bodies laid buried deep in the ground?

Those dead bodies in whose footsteps you followed suit?

Oh! And what about that memory of how you so desperately tried to navigate around and hide, escape his clutches?

Even if he could hear your sharp breaths as clear as the day?

Oh! Or maybe his favourite one could be the moment of when he tackled you down?

Pinning your body under his, finally cutting the chase so the real fun can begin?

And that beautiful moment of how you hopelessly dug your nails into his skin til blood trailed down his arms?

That one beautiful moment engraved into his head of how you desperately clawed at those lanky hands of his?

His hands that trailed, squeezed and pinched at your body, feeling you up like a winning prize, like a fine piece of venison?

Ah, it was so hard to pick which one was the most treasured one!

Hell, it could even be the simple memory of the melodious sounds of your cries.

That melodious, angelic sound of your pleading, whimpering, sobbing and screaming.

Especially those sounds you made when he bit down onto your flesh.

Oh, and that taste that hit his taste buds back then...

He still remembers it like it was yesterday.

And his tongue still tingles, and saliva still floods his mouth every time he thinks of just how tasty you were back then.

And now his mouth waters as he silently wonders... would you still have such taste even now?

Or did becoming a demon change the sweet, addictive flavour of your fragile flesh and thick blood?

Oh, how his senses urge him - beg him - to just grab you and take at least one single little bite...

I'd be really easy too, now that you're a part of the hotel staff.

Silly little you, you didn't flee when you were faced with the fact that he - the one who took your life - also works for the hell's princess now.

You didn't take the more than gracious chance to turn on your trail, run and never return while you still could.

No, you are too stubborn, and you insist on staying, even despite how frightening seeing him on the daily is for you.

Silly little you! Don't you realize how easily he could snatch you away and repeat history?

All it would take is a single moment of when you're alone and-

Ah, but he can't do that - at least not yet...

Where would be the fun in that?

It sure would be a shame to end your lovely reunion this fast and early on, no?

Not to mention the odd, messed up attachment the deer demon feels towards you...

Now, not to be mistaken! What he feels isn't the usual attachment one would think of!

It definitely isn't the good or healthy kind either...

So, we shall not be mistaken, let's not get our hopes up and think he cares - for he doesn't.

You mean nothing to him - at least as far as it comes to you as a person.

Your value could be most likely compared to something of a sentimental value, a plaything at best if you will.

Still, no matter what you are to him - you are by far his most favourite one at that.

That's what can be said for a fact.

And for reasons beyond us and even Alastor, those memories he shares with you are put on a pedestal - put way above the rest.

There were so many faces that twisted in fear, so many names he kept tabs on, so many tastes he's tried, and so many lives he's taken.

But very vast portion of them is long forgotten, not really standing out all that much.

Nor holding any real value. Barely any of them mattered...

But you, on the other hand - oh, he could never forget about that one lovely night you shared...

And even when more victims - more faces, more names, more tastes - came, they couldn't compare.

No, they never could.

Those memories of you and your taste were always stuck in the back of the radio demon's head no matter what new person was on the menu - what new dish was on his plate...

So, one can only imagine just what he feels now that you're back within his grasp.

Oh, not even his wildest fantasies could've come up with or prepare him for such sweet moment!

This was like a gift from the Devil himself!

Yes, a gift - one that Alastor would make sure to cherish greatly...

Ah yes, he would cherish you so.

He'd take his time unwrapping you like the perfect little gift that you are - he would savour you.

And only when he'd get tired of messing with you, only then he'd get to the real deal.

Oh, and when he'll finally do, it'll be like a starving man plunging onto bread crumbs!

It'll be such a beautiful, satisfactorily moment - Alastor can almost feel himself drooling at the mere thought of the moment.

Oh, how he just can't wait for the very moment!

The moment is so close, and yet so far - and every little glance your way is like a test.

A test of how long he can resist the temptation.

Every little move you make, every little noise that leaves you, every little expression your face twists into.

Oh, he can barely hold himself back!

His body feels so restless, and his thoughts are all over the place.

And no matter how much he reminds himself to be patient, to not cut straight to the chase just yet.

He still can barely keep himself in check.

His thoughts are going to dangerous places, and your familiar, sweet scent teases his nose.

Oh, and you're so within reach too!

It'd really just take a single little moment and-

"Geez, that perv's still at it?".

Oh, that's right.

He's almost forgotten about those curious eyes watching him from afar.

Watching, and trying to see inside his head...

But judging by the response Vaggie's hateful comment receives, it seems she's the only one to see right through him.

The only one to see the real danger behind that wide smile he always wears...

"Ya-uh! His eyes have not left her ever since she's joined the hotel staff!".

Ah, Charlie. Dear, sweet Charlie - now she's something else.

She's completely different from her girlfriend - she's quite naively trusting and optimistic.

Fully believing that there's a piece of good in everyone.

And hence not being concerned for your safety when the deer demon started to show an interest in you.

Ah, that sweet, silly little thing.

Caught up in trying to see only the best in people and their intentions...

It's amusing - and truly adorable.

And oh, does it play into Alastor's favour oh so well...

"Okay, that's like so sick and totally-".

Oh, Vaggie - she tries, she really tried to warn the others.

Make them see Alastor for what he truly is.

But aside from Husk, nobody really listens to Vaggie's concerns.

No, she's not all that listened to when she voices her opinions on the deer demon.

Not even when she expresses her concerns for how the latter constantly follows your every single step no matter the time of the day, no matter where you go...

And to think she has quite enough of a say in things as the hotel's manager, as well as the princess' girlfriend!

Oh, that poor little thing - it must be such an awful feeling.

How humorous!

And oh, how unfortunate...

"Ah! Do you think he's-?".

Niffty is completely on board with Charlie.

Similarly to the princess - she too doesn't see the real harm in Alastor's advances towards you.

Seeing his behaviour as nothing other than subtle romantic gestures.

The little demoness' version of romance sure is rather twisted...

And yet, it's still quite surprising Niffty doesn't see the harm in things.

After all, she herself knows Alastor just as well as Husk does...

"Yeah! Strawberry pimp totally got the hots for that one!".

Angel was caught up in the spiderweb of romanticizing the same thing as well.

Just like Charlie and Niffty, he couldn't see the truth...

"What? No! Are you all crazy?! That's not the case at all! How can you all not see that?!".

Oh, Vaggie - again and again, she really tries and tries.

But the result is always the same - nobody pays her warnings or concerns any thought.

And yet she still keeps on going.

What a miserable little thing she is.

"Oh my- I have like the best idea!".

Not even Charlie notices how Vaggie nearly begs for them all to see things from her point of view.

None of them can see things for what they really are.

Alastor's got them all right where he wants them.

Without even having to try much...

"We should totally get the two to have some alone time!".

Charlie is quick to naively play into the radio demon's games.

Without even knowing she's doing that.

She can't see this all is exactly what the deer demon wants...

And neither can Angel or Niffty.

Aw, those naive little fools...

"Yes! We should- like- create some really romantic atmosphere and leave them to it!".

Niffty follows through in Charlie's steps.

She too plays right into what Alastor wants.

Though whether or not she's aware of it is up for a debate...

"We should lock 'em up in a closet together or somethin', or even give them a little... somethin'... to just... ya know, set just the right mood in.".

And angel is quick to fall for Alastor's games too...

Ah, those silly fools...

Unaware they're making all this much easier than it should've been.

They're sealing your doom - the inevitable end you're ought to meet at his clutches.

They're making this all too easy...

They're shoving the little mouse right into the lion's den.

What unfortunate silly fools.

And what an unfortunate little you.

Your friends are serving you to him on a silver platter.

All of them - or nearly all of them - thinking they're doing you a favour.

Thinking they're simply helping a mere fool in love gain the heart of his love interest.

When in reality, they're actually helping a starving predator get closer to his chosen prey...

It was rather humorous - a good source of entertainment for sure.

So, Alastor would humour the group.

He'd indulge in their schemes of trying to set you up with him.

He'd gladly play along and lead them to think he's interested in you.

Well, interested in you they way they think he is, not the way he actually is...

No, they can't know what he actually wants from you.

They won't know.

He'll make sure of it.

They won't know until the very last moment, until the deed's already done.

Or, he'll lead them to think your disappearance has nothing to do with him.

After all, the sudden disappearance of a poor little sinner like you would be nothing new in hell.

You'd just be added to the endlessly growing numbers of hell inhabitants going missing.

Your disappearance would be just a part of the mere statistics.

Well, he'll see.

All depends on which option would prove to bring more benefit.

As well as which one would prove to be more entertaining.

That's what, to the deer demon, matters the most at the end of the day.

For now, he'll just go with the flow and let the situation progress by itself.

With the occasional shove to the right direction, of course.

But it doesn't seem like he needs to wait for that long for everything to be set in motion...

"Hey, Al, you got a minute?".

Yeah, he really doesn't need to wait for that long...

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gallavich-fic-club · 7 months ago

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Gallavich Summer Camp - Thank You!

Hi Everyone!

We wanted to take a minute to thank everyone - all of the writers, artists, and betas who made our first fandom event such a huge success!

This was a different format than most of us are used to for events, but you all rose to the occasion beautifully and made us look good with the amazing content that you have posted over the last 8 days.

Also a special shoutout to our guest star Camp Counselors Macy (@heymacy) , Mechy (@mickittotheman) , and Cherry(@too-schoolforcool) for their amazing lessons - you all added a little something extra to our Summer Camp that was totally unexpected.

From our team to all of you - thank you from the bottoms of our hearts.

With that, the first ever Gallavich Summer Writing Camp has officially come to a close, but we hope you will all be back to participate in more events in the future!

@darlingian @michellemisfit @deedala

@spacerockwriting @rayrayor @deathclassic @runawaybrainsc

@suzy-queued @sam-loves-seb @grumble-fish

@sweetbee78 @poisonedquiver @vintagelacerosette @energievie

@sickness-health-all-that-shit @doshiart

@roryonic @gallapiech

@look-i-love-u @thepupperino @kandyzee @mickwentz

@jademickian @astaraels @spookygingerr @em-harlsnow

@transmurderbug @ian-galagher @creepkinginc

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@whatthebodygraspsnot @catgrassplantdad @heymrspatel @gallawitchxx

@mickeyheartian @thegallaviches @mickeysgaymom

#gallavich summer camp 2024 #thank you #what an incredible fandom #the fics and art are amazing

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kayawellhealth · 6 months ago

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annaelizabethhenry1 · 3 months ago

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Echoes from the Past - Chapter 2

Summary: River visits his grandfather post season 4 at the care home. The visits conjure memories of River’s childhood and teen years as he grapples with his grandfather’s declining mental health and how once he’s gone he’ll have no one left. Warning – spoilers for all four seasons.

A big thank you to my coven and our endless discussions about this fic and scenarios for Little River and the tough discussions around dementia. Writing may seem like a solitary endeavor, but its always a group effort - hugs and kisses to Alex @cillmequick and Dot @coffeeflavored <3

CHAPTER ONE

Chapter Two

As it was a long bank holiday weekend, River decided he’d stay at his grandfather’s house to make visiting him daily for the next few days simpler. The light was going down rapidly along the garden’s treeline and River hurried inside, clutching his bag of curry take-away. He flipped on the lights in the study and the kitchen. He also switched on the heating as it was freezing in the house. He missed the days when he would visit and the house was lit, warm with the fireplace crackling. Now the house was just an empty shell of its former self. It sat cold and dark, no life stirring from within it.

As the radiators banged and hissed to life, River took out the curry, pulled a fork from a drawer and was about to sit down at the empty kitchen table and sighed. “God, how pathetic,” he muttered. Was this going to be his existence going forward, sad take away meals alone in a drafty house? He never realized how much he enjoyed his grandfather’s company until it had been taken from him. He took for granted the camaraderie they shared over the years.

River walked back to the study with his curry and sat down in his usual chair as he couldn’t bring himself to sit in grandad’s as it would always be his even after he was gone. Mind you the chair River sat in used to belong to his Nan, but after she passed grandad told him it was his spot from now on which made it different.

It was so quiet in the country compared to his noisy flat in London where there were always sirens, cars rushing by and people shouting. Just like when he first arrived here when he was almost seven, the silence made him feel lonely and isolated, like you’d survived some dystopian horror and only you were left. The silence hadn’t scared him for ages, but now it suddenly did because before even with the silence there was the chatter of his grandfather to fill the void and that was now missing.

River thought back to one of his first nights in the house. When everything seemed new and rather frightening. He’d never lived outside of London before nor had he ever stayed somewhere so fancy. It reminded him of how people on the telly lived.

On the third night with his grandparents, River lay awake in his bed in what his grandparents called the guest room, but there was talk of making it more comfortable for him. He wondered if that meant it would his room. He’d never had his own room before – usually he slept on a pull-out sofa or in a sleeping bag. He couldn’t fathom having a whole room that was just for him. Grabbing his bunny, he shuffled from under the cosy comforter and went to the window to look out.

River could not understand his grandparents yet. He always made a point to figure out how his mum’s latest boyfriend worked. What would upset them, what would make them happy or at least indifferent to him. With Nan especially, nothing seemed to trouble her.

River whispered to Mr. Hoppinheimer, “I don’t get how they haven’t yelled at me yet. It’s been three whole days…I thought for sure when I spilled the milk today Nan would yell, but she didn’t.”

His grandparents were obviously older, but did this mean they yelled less or was it something else? An owl hooted in the tree near his window and River jumped. “What was that? A monster?”

The wind tossed the branches outside and one was close enough to scrap the house, scaring River further. He clutched his bunny while another sound echoed in the night sky and River shuddered as tears ran down his cheek.

River’s door creaked opened and light from the hallway poured in as his grandfather appeared, smiling. River quickly wiped the tears away, his mum hated it when he cried.

“River are you all right, lad?”

He shook his head no because he was scared and confused. River worried what his grandfather would do next. Best case he’d ignore him, worst he’d yell.

“Well we can’t have that,” David said coming into the room and turning a little lamp on that cast a soft glow about the room.

His grandfather sat down at the edge of the bed closest to River, “Come sit next to me. Tell me what’s wrong.”

River looked at this grandfather who smiled and patted the spot next to him. River hesitated, but went over and sat down. Grandad wrapped an arm around him, “Are you scared?”

“Yes, but I promised mum I wouldn’t be any trouble…”

“Oh, River my boy being scared isn’t causing trouble. You don’t have to worry anymore because I’m here to protect you, so is your Nan. We want you to be happy and we can’t do that if you don’t tell us how you feel, all right?”

Grandad pulled River closer and kissed the top of his head.

River didn’t know what to do. He felt so different. Like for the first time someone didn’t mind him being there. It was almost like they were happy he was here with them, especially his Nan.

“It’s so quiet here…but when I hear things…they scare me,” As if on cue the owl hooted. “Like that!” River snuggled into his grandfather’s sweater hoping he wouldn’t mind.

“Oh, that’s an owl. Tomorrow we’ll go out and investigate the garden and I’ll show you where the owls live and maybe if we’re lucky enough we’ll see an owl in the daylight as they usually hunt at night.”

“What’s investigate mean?”

“Explore. There’s so much to see around here. I can take you down the road to where the neighbours keep their horses. You’d like to see that, right?”

River brightened up. Someone wanted to do something especially for him. He didn’t understand it but he was glad his mum left him here. Mind you, he didn’t trust it yet, but this felt so different than what he was used to.

“I like it here even if it’s scary at night.”

“It won’t be scary for long. You’ll get used to the different sounds. But you can always come to us if you’re scared. You don’t have to stay here afraid.”

“Won’t you be cross if I wake you?” River asked afraid he pushed too far.

“Cross? No, never.”

Grandad soothed River, tucked him back in, bunny and all and shut the light, but left the door open so he wouldn’t feel alone.

River thought wistfully on that moment, it was the first time he felt truly safe and loved. He knew recapturing that now was impossible given his grandfather’s condition. It also made him wonder if his grandfather was afraid when he was lucid, that he knew he was slipping away and couldn’t do anything about it. What could River do to soothe him? He had to find a way to comfort him after everything he had done for him. River knew his grandfather was flawed – more than ever now after finding out who his father was and what lay behind it. But still he owed him and deep down he knew his grandad had done his best for River all those years ago.

River started as his mobile rang in his pocket. He pulled it out and saw Catherine’s name appearing on the screen. He thought it odd she’d call this late. He hoped everything was all right. “Hi Catherine. Is everything okay?”

“Oh, hi River, yes. Just wanted to check in with you. I knew you said you were visiting David this weekend. I wondered if you had gone down.”

“Yeah, I did. He wasn’t so good today…he wanted to go home and then later he didn’t know who I was…”

“Oh, River…I’m so sorry. Hopefully tomorrow will be a better day. Why don’t you try bringing some photos over with you? Remember the article I sent you mentioned that often helps them as their minds often live in the past, so seeing photos of you when you’re younger might bring him around,” Catherine urged from the other end of the line.

“Right. I forgot about that. I’ll go find some when I finish my curry.”

“Take away again, honestly,” Catherine huffed.

River chuckled. “It’s not like I’m in the mood to cook.”

“My offer still stands.”

“I know. I’ll see how tomorrow goes,” River said.

Catherine Standish had offered to come by for the day and visit David as he was familiar with her from their “adventure” together after River left David with her when they perused by both the Park and an assassin.

After River finished his curry and tidied the kitchen, he went upstairs to his grandparents’ room. The door creaked as it opened, turning the light on the room came to life. He looked around, everything was tidy. The bed made, the curtains closed, the furniture recently polished. He wished he could take credit for it, but right after he left his grandfather at the care home, Catherine came by to help organize things with River, which included a weekend of tidying-up the house as it was long overdue for some sprucing up.

River opened the closet door, staring at the sparse contents as half of it was in the care home with his grandfather and the other space belonged to his Nan who’s clothes had been donated long ago. A box caught his eye on an upper shelf. It looked like a hat box that would’ve belong to his grandmother. Reaching up he removed it and was surprised by its weight. Placing it down on the bed, River opened the lid, “Oh, wow…” It contained cards, drawings and other ephemera River had made growing up. He had no idea his grandparents had saved these. They were bundled neatly unlike his own memory box.

As he shifted the piles and removed them to the bed, he saw the weathered rocks he decorated for the garden when he seven or eight. Then there was the ‘Best Grandad’ pin River bought for him one Father’s Day. He held it for a moment remembering trying to pin it on his grandad’s sweater with his little fingers and being pricked by it. River smiled. Digging further he found a child sized watch with the face scratched.

“He kept this?” River muttered feeling his face flush as he looked up at the ceiling blinking back tears. The battered watch held a special memory for River, it was the catalyst in his bonding early on with his grandad.

River had been with his grandparents almost a month when they presented him with a very cool digital watch that had a special little button that made it light up in the dark. He’d only taken it off to have baths since he received it, but one Sunday evening he realized it was missing from his wrist. He was seized by panic - his grandparents would be so disappointed in him if he already lost the watch.

While he was still trying to understand his grandparents, River knew this was definitely the type of thing that would lead to yelling – it had to. He lost far less precious things when he was with his mum and she got so cross, calling him careless. It was no wonder that she left him here. Now where would he go if his grandparents got tired of him losing things or being clumsy? But with no father, who would take him in next? River remembered watching Oliver on the telly a while ago and thought how horrible it would be to live on the streets being a thief. Would Fagan be nice to him? River doubted it as no one seemed to like him. He’d not be able to keep Mr. Hoppinheimer or his new bear Benjamin who had a very smart bowtie.

“Wait! Maybe it’s in the bathroom!” River darted across the hallway into the loo.

River looked on the floor, under the rugs, by the sink, and under the towels that were neatly stacked. It wasn’t anywhere. He was so crestfallen and slumped to sit on the cold, tile floor, scared to tell them he lost the watch. Near tears, River tried to take a breath, but could feel his chest tighten as he was near hyperventilating. He breathed in and out harder. He had to think, where had he gone today? The kitchen, dining room and study – oh the garden!

Earlier before dinner he and his grandad went into the garden to check on the pots to see if anything sprouted up yet. Grandad even gave him gloves to put on that were too big for him. Maybe the watch fell off then.

Darting back across the hallway, River went into his room to put his shoes on and then realized how would he get out of the house without explaining to his grandparents why he was going outside? The house was very creaky, but he already knew which steps made the most noise as he liked playing a game where he avoided them hopping around.

Tip-toeing in the hall and down the stairs avoiding the creaky spots, River edged around the wall and poked his head into the study and spied his grandparents involved in their books while the fire crackled. Seeing they were occupied, he made a dash to the kitchen. River peered out the kitchen door noticing the light was fading fast. He went into what his Nan called the jumble drawer where random things like screwdrivers, tape measures and a small torch were kept. He slid it from the drawer noiselessly as possible. The doorhandle was an odd lever River hadn’t completely remembered how to use and it squeaked a little when he turned it the wrong way. His heart pounded as he froze. All he heard was ticking from the clock in the entry hall and a tiny throat clearing from his grandad. River sighed. He pulled the door open just enough for him to get out. He immediately dove out of sigh against the chilly stone wall.

“Whew, okay that was close,” River mumbled as he turned the torch on and began his search around the clay pots.

Just as he looked between the last batch of flower pots with the torch he heard the kitchen door squeak shut. “NO!” River whispered turning quickly and arcing the torch beam into one of the windows. He hastily turned it off less to draw attention to the garden. River went on his hands and knees in the damp grass to hide when he noticed his missing watch in a tuft of high grass around one of the larger planters.

River wrapped the watch around his wrist and proceeded to crawl back to the house to stay out of sight till he reached the back door. Slowly, he got up and peered through the metal and glass panes. The kitchen was dark, so no one was there. River turned the lever but met resistance. “It’s locked,” River whispered in a panic. Now what? He pushed on the door to see if it was stuck, but it didn’t budge. “Wait…the key under the yellow pot.” Nan told him about it in case he ever got locked out in the garden. He retrieved the key and ever so slowly turned it, hearing the click he breathed a sigh of relief and quickly returned the key under the pot and slinked back into the dark kitchen.

Just as he was about to make a dash to the stairs light flooded the room as his grandfather appeared from the pantry area, “River whatever have you been doing out in the garden in the dark?”

Grandad walked towards him and took the torch from a stunned River’s hand. “Well?”

This was it, he was done for, off to an orphanage for him or worse. “I…I…umm…”

“David is everything all right, who are you talking to?” Nan shouted from the study.

“River, he came down for a glass of water,” Grandad coolly replied.

River was surprised his grandfather lied given he caught him sneaking around.

“River love, do you want a snack?”

“No, Nan, I’m not hungry, thanks!” River shouted back.

“So, what were you up to?”

River felt like he could trust being honest since his grandad just lied for him. “I lost my watch, Grandad. I went into the garden thinking it was there and it was,” River held up his wrist.

“Why didn’t you just ask? We would’ve looked with you, River.”

“Mum always said I was careless and I didn’t want you to be cross,” River said looking up at his grandad with those sad blue eyes.

“My boy, we all lose stuff, wait till you’re my age, I misplace things all the time!”

Impulsively, River hugged his grandad around the waist, tight, which took David by surprise and he wrapped his arms around his grandson. “I have to say I’m impressed as I didn’t realize you left the house. I came to put my mug in the sink and noticed the door was open a little and closed it. Only when I saw the light did I realize you were outside. Always remember if you hear noise when sneaking about with a torch to turn it off immediately and then hide.”

River pulled away and looked up curiously at his grandfather, “What? You didn’t mind I did that then?”

“Well, best not tell your grandmother, she wouldn’t approve, but I see you’ve got potential,” he replied with a warm smile.

“What’s potential?”

“Ah, in this case it means,” Grandad leaned in and whispered, “I think you could be a good spy one day.”

“Wow,” River managed.

“That’s between us, remember,” his grandad winked.

River tried to wink back but only achieved an awkward form a blinking which made his grandad chuckle.

The memory in retrospect was even more bittersweet than River liked to admit. The irony of him ending up in Slough House, being the biggest disappointment anyone could ever be to a grandfather who had been first desk. Maybe it was a good thing Grandad couldn’t remember things anymore, it saved him the embarrassment.

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

David Cartwright shambled through the hallway that led back to his room. All the chatter from the dining room became too much for him. He was used to his home and the quiet, not constant yammering. Turning the knob to his room he heard his name called and twisted to find the small lady who always seemed happy coming at him.

“Did you not want to play bingo?”

“Bingo’s for old people,” he responded turning back to his room and pushing the door open.

Orla chuckled. “Yes, of course and you’re clearly too young for that kind of thing. Would you like to play chess or checkers with me?”

David plunked down in the leather chair. “I hate all the noise, so no thank you.”

A lightbulb went off, he hated the dining room and rec room because it was too much for him. “We could play in here where it’s quiet. And maybe you’d like cup of tea, too?”

“Maybe…I used to play with River. I taught him to play chess. He never got very good at it, always was an impulsive player. Where is my boy?”

“He was here earlier at lunch, Mr. Cartwright.”

“I don’t remember. He hates me anyway. He only comes because of Rose.”

Orla was beginning to see the picture more clearly now. Not only was it just the dementia at play, but a family rift or misunderstanding. There wasn’t much time to repair this either given how quickly the dementia seemed to be progressing. “No, I spoke to him earlier, we had tea and cake together. He cares about you very much, I can tell. I think it’s hard for him to deal with his feelings. Let me get that chess set and come back, okay?”

“Yes, whatever,” David mumbled.

Orla returned a short while later with a boxed chess set and Sylvie bearing a small tea tray. The two women set everything up near where David sat.

Finally sitting down across from David, Orla began to put the chess pieces on the board. “I’ve had a long day, it’s nice to sit down quietly here to be honest, I can see why you wanted to as well.” She knew that many dementia and Alzheimer’s patients became frazzled from too much stimulation depending on what stage their condition was in, but she did wonder about David as he seemed so sharp sometimes. She’d have to chat with River further about his thoughts as he was the best judge.

“Yes, well I’d rather be in my own quiet home.”

“Where would you be right now if you were home?”

“My study with my books and some whiskey.”

“Avid reader?”

“Yes.”

“I love Dickens. My favourite is the Pickwick Papers.”

“That’s a terrible choice. Why not Bleak House or at least David Copperfield?

Orla smiled and continued to place the chess pieces down. “I like to be different. It’s his only truly humorous work and I do so love to laugh.”

David cracked a shadow of a smile. “I see you know how to set the board up. Let’s see how well you play.”

“I’ wager you’ll route me in no time,” Orla said with a cheeky wink.

Orla knew she was far from a chess champion, but David Cartwright despite his age and mental health was still quite the chess player as within the hour she had been corned into checkmate.

“Checkmate!” David said triumphantly.

“Ooo! Damn!” Orla said. “Sorry…”

“No, you’re within your right to swear. You weren’t paying attention to your bishop earlier hence you’re in this mess now. I always told River not underestimate the power of your bishops. Not that he ever listened either.”

“You love River very much, don’t you?”

“Of course, he’s my boy.”

Orla sat quiet for moment. She wanted to say that his grandson was his son in every way that truly mattered and I’m sure River felt he same way. She decided to push a little. “Yes, I can tell. You’re very proud of him I’m sure. Though I do wonder why you think he doesn’t care for you.”

David’s face changed, Orla saw it immediately. She lost him. Damn!

“Yes, well he left me here to die,” David said gruffly, pushing the little card table with the chess set towards Orla.

“He did that to keep you safe. I know it’s not easy to admit, but sometimes we need help.”

“Help? This is what you call this hotel hospital environment? We’ve all been left here to die because someone who loved us just can’t be bothered.” He crossed his arms and turned his face away.

Orla did hate to admit that she had seen many people left at care homes who had no visitors and it always broke her heart. But this wasn’t the case for David Cartwright. His grandson cared a great deal. “May I call you David?” he shrugged in response. “David, your grandson is a busy man with a career and no doubt a personal life and he just can’t quit his job and stay with you as you do really need constant support to ensure you don’t get hurt.”

“I’d rather die than be here.”

“I’m sorry you feel that way. Maybe when River comes by tomorrow it’ll make you feel better about all of this. I’ll get Sylvie to help you to bed if you’re ready. Maybe you can watch some telly or I can get you a book from the library.”

“Just leave me alone!” He said much louder than he intended.

“Okay, have a goodnight and I’ll see you tomorrow,” Orla said with a sad smile and tiny wave.

Two steps forward and one step back she thought. Tomorrow was indeed another day and she’d make the most of it.

#jack lowden #river cartwright #slow horses #river cartwright x oc #slow horses fanfiction #david cartwright #slow horses season 4 #anna elizabeth writes

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songfell-ut · 10 months ago

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Songfell anniversary post, pt 1

Eyyy so four years ago today, I posted the first three chapters of my story on AO3, having seen an unfinished comic and gotten permission from the artist to write a fic using her premise. This here is the first piece of Songfell art ever, commission from the OG comic creator, @lostmypotatoes 👌

So! I am not posting any new content for the moment. My mom has been having health problems, including me having to help take her to the ER (she's fine, just needs to stay in bed for a while), which delays actual writings a bit. What I am doing is reposting art from four years of Tumblr! C'mon down memory lane, wheeeeee

(Part 2, Part 3)

This is going to be in VERY VERY approximate chronological order as it depicts stuff in the story. Stuff with no set place in the story will be guesstimated because I have that power ah ha ha ha ha

Disclaimer: I've pulled all of these from posts or reblogs made by this specific blog. If I didn't see or repost any Songfell art you've done, especially for the videos, I did not leave it out on purpose. I threw in exactly one image from Discord for the sake of completing a set, but that was it.

In cases of multiple...okay it's just the fork scene that has multiple iterations because everyone liked it, but besides the opening one here (which is still my AO3 pfp!), the one that was the first piece of non-commissioned art I ever got will be first. Enjoy!

This was the first non-potatoes art in the videos, I believe, done by the superlative @venelona (probably the most prolific of the arts on here), when somebody realizes he's gonna lose 😘

The collection skips ahead to Sans contemplating killing the nice lady and then totally randomly thinking of Kris instead, by @mambourin D: But whaddya know--

See? That's the sound of losing, son

That's the sight of losing, by @sharkowskii, whose work speaks for itself. Here's the whole thing, colored fantastically by Vene.

Know what else they did together, and happens once he's been knocked out?

(Look at this so good holy shit) Frisk's had a bit of a tired, scared cry in the hall, and it's time to face her new guest head-on.

I lost my mind at least a little bit when I first saw these, ngl. I can't find the next page that she did for the compiled "movie" video 😢 But now we're coming up on a fun bit of Songfell lore!

I was scrolling through Tumblr and glanced over what looked like a picture of my Frisk ha ha that was kind of VENELONA DID A THING WAIT WHAT

First ever fanart, that's what. We have a High Priestess who is completely done with his goddamn nonsense, and

Pictured: goddamned nonsense. N-Not like he LIKES you, baka

Aaand here's my Discord pfp, by @xxkoichiixx (who seems not to be on here anymore D:).

And here's a very plausible alternate outcome by @vafro1.

Though this was a bit more like it, thanks to @naomyart.

Oh look a distraction after he was stupid what are the odds (Catler1!)

Last and never least (none of you are >:( so there), puns are dumb and it turns out they're into it. The End...for now

...

Bonus outtake recording illustration from @dale-the-human

#songfell #songfell anniversary post #dale's dogs fearlessly protect her against useable audio

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webblogers1 · 2 years ago

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Regular Health Checkup is Important - Webblogers

In this blog, you will learn why regular health checkup is important. Thus patients are advised to get regular checkups done to be conscious of their good health. Read this blog for more details. Webbloger is the best guest post submission site where you can publish health category content. This guest post submission will help you to increase traffic and increase the authority of your website.

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/people/Webblogers/100089759164111/

Linkedin: https://www.linkedin.com/company/web-blogers/

#Write for us #Health Write For Us #Guest post submission #Best guest post submission site

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faggotmox · 3 months ago

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title: eyes wide shut, i promise not to fall awake rating: explicit pairing: Wheeler Yuta/Jon Moxley, Wheeler Yuta/Bryan Danielson, Wheeler Yuta/Claudio Castagnoli, background Yuta/Mox/Claudio/Bryan/Regal word count: 11,526 warnings: rape, past rape, abuse, non-consensual drug use, drugged sex, non-consensual bondage, delusions, drug abuse, budding drug addiction to be clear, mental health issues, inability to distinguish reality from not reality, fantasizing, distant partner, come play, blood play. blood kink, arousal from rape, topping from the bottom, daddy kink, domestic issues, dirty talk, free use (kinda), William Regal Haunts the Narrative, post-traumatic stress disorder, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat notes: shout out to sarah for helping proof this :D more notes under the cut, more tags on ao3 link summary: There's a match Saturday on Collision against Anthony Henry, but Yuta can't even remember what day it is anymore. series: the ancient art of quiet rape, part two

[link to ao3] [ao3 series page] [part one on tumblr]

more authors notes: I strongly urge anyone with issues reading about the experience of not being able to distinguish reality from not reality may not want to read this fic. Through out the work Yuta will be unable to remember a lot of things, and struggles with figuring out whats real and what isn't.

To be clear about some of the above tags: Yuta will be drugged during part of this fic. In other parts he will be popping pills. Yuta does not remember the events of the hospital, or that he was raped. He thinks its just a nightmare. During certain parts of this fic Yuta will fantasize about raping another character, and have dreams about being raped. Mox will mention his past with being raped in an erotic way. Yuta will be aroused by being raped.

I do feel it necessary to explain all of this since this is sensitive. I want people to enjoy this work about erotic rape and erotic abuse, not be hurt by it! (cringe shit I say but mean even though it's cringe).

+++

"Learning to perfect the ancient art of quiet rape, You've always been so warm and calculated, I owe you a thanks, Eyes wide shut, I promise not to fall awake, Lick the guillotine and tell you how the gasoline tastes, The grass is always greener on the other pesticide." --Eyedea & Abilities, 'Burn Fetish'

The house was always quiet. It never used to be like this, but then again there used to be a few more people around. Instead it’s just Yuta, living like a ghost in Bryan’s house. That’s what it is now. Just Bryan’s place. None of them had ever officially moved in but for some reason everyone mostly gravitated to staying there. Yuta just felt like a guest now.

Mostly Bryan was resting. Especially the first few days. There was a lot on his mentor’s mind as he tried to recover, there was a title to defend after all, but they weren’t really speaking. Sure Yuta asked what Bryan needed, how he was doing, what they would have to eat, and so on. Bryan answered. Sure they spoke here and there, but they didn't talk.

The thing was, Yuta knew he was acting strange. Lately everything made his skin crawl, every sound made him jump. Anything salty was likely to tip him into an anxiety attack. He felt like a shell of a person, terrified of nothing he could understand. Most of the time he was barely present. All day he spent checking on Bryan or training, at night he couldn’t sleep so he watched matches.

In the mirror Yuta could see the toll of sleeplessness. The nightmare plagued the young man even when he was awake. Every reiteration left Yuta with less memory, but more of a vivid feeling. Something that couldn’t be shaken off. Clinging to him like plastic, suffocating and uncomfortable.

There was so much Yuta couldn’t hide, and while he knew Bryan was recovering as well as dealing with his own trauma, the man never seemed to notice. For Yuta’s own health he had to write it off as Bryan just dealing with his own stuff. Sure, that was understandable. After all, it was Bryan who actually went through something.

“Hey, Wheeler?” Bryan’s still hoarse voice asked over the sound of cooking.

“Hm?” Yuta wasn’t actually listening, he was paying attention to the pan as he made dinner. Not really, he was actually completely zoned out.

“Why haven’t you been staying in the bed with me?” Bryan asked but he wasn’t looking at the younger man. There was a slight uncomfortableness to him even bringing it up.

“Hm.” Yuta just shrugged, not hearing the question.

“Yuta.” Bryan’s voice was louder, a little mad now. It snapped the other out of it.

“What? Sorry. My head’s somewhere else, Bryan,” Yuta admitted, glancing over to see how much he pissed his mentor off.

“Yeah. I noticed.” The slight snark to it made Yuta wince. “I just asked why you hadn’t been staying in the bed with me.”

“I…” Yuta put the spatula down so he could lean on the counter. “Just figured you needed space while you recovered.”

“Thoughtful of you,” Bryan mumbled sarcastically.

There was something that just snapped in Yuta. Hands balling up into fists as he tried to control himself. A few deep breaths until he was able to turn off the stove. Yuta turned sharply to face Bryan sitting at the breakfast bar.

“Honestly, I can’t fucking sleep, Bryan. I didn’t want to be keeping you up. So fuck you.” Yuta made sure he didn’t raise his voice, forcing the rage boiling inside of him to a simmer.

“Hey, hey. I’m sorry.” Bryan got up to come hold Yuta. Normally it’d be sweet but today it made Yuta want to scream. “You are being thoughtful. I just…missed you in bed.”

“Oh…” Yuta shrank into the hug, putting his arms around the shorter man. “Sorry.”

“It’s a two way street, right?” Bryan kissed the younger man’s cheek. “Have you tried taking your Xanax before bed? They make you really sleepy.”

“Not really. They’re for panic attacks so I didn’t think about that,” Yuta admitted, realizing he could do that. “Fuck it. Haven’t slept since you were released. I’ll take one after dinner and we can go to sleep.”

“Only if you think it’ll help. It was just a suggestion.” Bryan finally let go.

“Yeah. I do think it’ll help.” Yuta nodded, sure that it couldn't hurt at least.

Right after they ate, Yuta took a pill before cleaning up the kitchen. Bryan said he had a little headache so he needed to lay down. That was fine, Yuta wasn’t too worried about it. For a while he’d work on the dishes and when he got too tired he’d go upstairs.

The slow ascent up the steps exhausted Yuta. Each foot weighed down by dread. Despite this being what he wanted from Bryan, wanting to be noticed in his own suffering, it just felt bad. Anxiety and worry were overpowering even the medication the closer he got to the bedroom.

It felt strange, almost dreamlike to walk into the bedroom. Everything was practically how it was the last time Yuta was here. Like a time capsule of before. The sheets were different than they had been before the weekend. It was jarring to see that none of Mox or Claudio’s scattered things weren’t thrown out or even put away.

Yuta was too exhausted to think about it as he sat on the edge of the bed, opposite where the sleeping Dragon laid. House shoes kicked off, Yuta slid into bed fully clothed. The room was cool but not cold enough for a hoodie, sweatpants, or even his socks. He made sure to stay out of the covers, pushing them over towards Bryan who was already asleep.

Even with the Xanax sleep was elusive. Every so often he’d nod off but he wouldn’t sleep. As the minutes ticked by, Yuta lost more and more patience. The room was too quiet; the sound of Yuta’s racing thoughts were loud like bumps on the mat. The temperature of the room seemed to fluctuate between way too hot and slightly too cold.

In an act of frustration Yuta fished the pill bottle out of his pocket. Shaking out two more light blue pills to go into his mouth. There had to be relief somewhere, right now it looked like it might be at the bottom of the bottle. Yuta remembered Mox half jokingly telling him that if he chewed the pills up they’d hit faster, so he did that.

To balance out the advice from the other man, Yuta started doing some of the breathing exercises Bryan taught him. Slowly things started to even out as the combination of breathing and chewing the pills sent the tingling of calm. Closing his eyes, Yuta was finally met with darkness instead of ghosts.

+++

As soon as Yuta woke up he knew something was wrong. This wasn’t the same bedroom he had fallen asleep in. As he looked around, heart beating out of his chest he realized that he was at…Claudio’s place? It was the guest bedroom that nobody really used. Except most of Yuta’s things were there. Everything that was important to him seemed to be in the room.

Panic was flooding the young man as he got out of the bed, the covers were thrown back violently. Yuta ran towards the door, but his heart sank when the handle didn’t move.

“What the fuck, what the fuck.” Yuta rushed around the room but couldn’t figure out what he was looking for.

It felt like hours went by, but Yuta ran out of steam early. It seemed impossible. Everything was surreal. Like the fact there was a bathroom he didn’t remember from before. The door was heavy and he knew he wouldn't be able to get it open. He thought there was a window in this room but it was nowhere to be found.

A loud knock came at the door finally. The silence had lulled Yuta into a dreamlike state and the noise made him jump up to his feet, stumbling slightly. The hinges to the door didn’t make any noise as it opened. On the other side was Mox, a big grin on his face as he strolled inside. Jeans slung low with a sway to his hips. No shirt for some reason, giving Yuta a glorious view of his hairy chest.

“Hey, kid. Glad you’re up. Feeling okay?” Mox didn’t seem to mind the door latching behind him as he got closer. “Gave you a bit to cal--”

“What the fuck is this, Jon?!” Yuta shouted, so much anger welling up.

“Um…it’s the thing you wanted, man. I didn’t decide on this. I didn’t come up with it, or let myself be here. You wanted this.” Mox frowned, a look of hurt coming across his face. “Remember? At the hospital when we talked about this?”

“What? What hospital? I don’t know what the fuck you’re on about, Jon!” Yuta snapped. “Why are my drums here? Why is my computer here? All my clothes, books, movies, what the hell is this! Answer me!”

“Fucking christ. You gotta calm the fuck down. We got your fuckin’ pills too.” Mox pointed towards the nightstand. “If you relax, I’ll refresh your damn memory.”

“Calm down? You’ve got me locked in some damn room--” Yuta’s fists balled up as he contained his rage at being cut off.

“Just shut up for a minute.” Mox waved him off. “When we were at the hospital in Chicago we talked about how we wanted to keep you locked up, free to use whenever we wanted, the only time we let you out is to go wrestle.”

“Wha…” Yuta’s brain was flooded with all that memory. “We didn’t agree-- I didn’t--”

“We all know this is exactly where you want to be.” Mox sighed as he glanced back at the door. “I’ll go, if you still need to adjust. I just wanted to get my dick wet, honestly.”

“You just wanted to get your fucking dick wet? Do you hear yourself?!” Yuta took a step closer.

“I hear myself, kid. I know exactly what’s going on.” Mox’s face darkened as he stepped closer too. The threatening action made Yuta pause. “This is the whole reason you’re here. It’s what you’re good for. So I can go, give you more time to relax, but the longer you make me wait the worse it gets.”

The hospital came to mind as the threat set in. The violent violation by his fellow faction mates allowed cracks to form in Yuta, hairline fractures that weakened him as a whole. Mox knew that, even if Yuta didn’t. A little pressure on the right part would cause him to shatter. Being blindsided by his own mental state, Yuta just stared. How could this be real? Surely Bryan would notice he was missing or something?

One large hand landed on Yuta’s shoulder, moving around to the back of his neck. Gripping, holding tight but it wasn’t rough. Mox wasn’t hurting him, just pulling him closer and closer.

“Bryan ain’t coming to find you. You’ve already been gone for three days, kid.” Mox spoke quietly, slowly like he was breaking bad news.

“No, no. That’s…Bryan wouldn’t…” Yuta started to shake his head but he knew it was true. He knew that Bryan may not even notice he was missing because his mentor didn’t really care.

“I could give you your phone right now and there wouldn’t be a missed call or text from daddy.” Mox tacked on the last part just to be cruel, to really drive it home. That broke Yuta more as he started crying. “You don’t got a match for a while either, so no one at work is wonderin’.”

“Jon, please,” Yuta begged as everything inside of him crumbled.

“So, is it now or later? I’m getting impatient here.” Mox sighed as he let go, finally looking away.

Yuta stared at the older man as the gravity of the situation started to sink in. This was his new world. It felt insane to just drop to his knees but what other choice did he have? Eventually they’d just take what they wanted from him; that much Yuta learned the night at the hospital. At least he could save himself some pain maybe if he just sank to his knees now.

+++

The bedroom was bright and sunny, a window open to hear nature’s tune. Light sparkled through the currents. Sheets and comforters cocooned Yuta in the empty bed. It was hard to orient himself but Yuta focused on slowing down his breathing. Something was making the bed shake, it took a moment for Yuta to realize it was him.

Shaking like a leaf would be an understatement. Yuta was trembling. Even being all wrapped up, with the addition of his heavy choice in pajamas, didn’t stop it. In fact Yuta could feel himself sweating profusely, his heart jackhammering like he’d just spent an hour running the ropes.

As everything eased back into reality, Yuta was able to slowly get out of the bedding. The clothes he wore to bed were drenched in sweat, but at least it wasn’t on the bed. Cool air ran past his body but did little to quell the heat.

Once Yuta was up on his feet he noticed how bad he felt. Maybe he’d caught something. His throat felt raw and scratchy, all his joints were aching, and he had a headache despite just waking up. The clothes were sticking to his skin uncomfortably.

The hoodie was stripped first, tossed to the side as socked feet took Yuta to the bathroom. It was too bright but Yuta couldn’t do anything about it. His balance had yet to even out so he held onto the sink as he walked by, glancing at his ghostly form in the mirror.

Cold water ran into the sink, swirling down the drain as Yuta started at himself. He looked awful. Even though he slept his eyes still had bags under them, he was pale, and looked vaguely sick. Yuta could admit the look in his eyes was bad, he looked like he’d given up. Something was broken inside of him but he had no idea what.

At this point Yuta couldn’t remember basically anything from the nightmare he’d had at the hospital. Now he could barely recall the one that had just happened. It was starting to really piss him off that he just had no recollection of the things haunting him, he couldn't see them so he couldn’t deal with them.

“Stress, huh.” Yuta rolled his eyes, remembering the nurse expressing concern about his stress.

Finally, Yuta bent down to wash his face off. The cool water added a refreshing relief. Everything else started cooling down too. Getting all the grime and sweat off his face made Yuta feel significantly more human.

“Where is Bryan?” Yuta muttered to himself as he dried off his hands.

It wasn’t like Bryan was supposed to be anywhere. Bed rest had been prescribed for nearly a week. The first thing Yuta did was find his phone on the bedside table. The battery was low since the night before he hadn’t cared much if his phone was charged. The display didn’t have any messages, nothing from his mentor.

There was the possibility that Bryan was somewhere downstairs but after a quick sweep there was no one. Not even in the garden. Both of their cars were there, which was good since Bryan wasn’t supposed to be driving.

It annoyed Yuta to wake up alone. No message or indicator of where his injured partner was at. Of course Bryan just took off, that was just what he was good at. Yuta groaned to himself as he tried to back track that line of thought. After all, Bryan probably just didn’t want to wake him up since he knew Yuta hadn’t been sleeping. Not that it was even good sleep. Yuta felt more tired than he had the day before.

After some contemplation Yuta decided to just go take a shower. That would probably do him some good, right, and he’d find some fresh clothes too.

+++

The hot water cascaded over Yuta’s body while he ducked under the spray. It was probably too hot, his skin already taking on a pink tone. Something needed to be washed away, even if Yuta couldn’t articulate what it was that he needed to clean off himself.

Ever since the PPV it was like a layer of filth was stuck to Yuta’s skin. Each shower did nothing to rid him of the disgusting feeling. Something was weaving its way through his skin, sewing patches of filth over the cracks. Every pore felt like it was seeping and oozing.

Without looking, Yuta reached over to the shelf to grab body wash. A few bottles clattered over, one even rolling off. It stayed at the bottom of the shower; Yuta was too preoccupied to care. The faded red washcloth was lathered up quickly, and taken to his own skin like sandpaper.

Every inch of tan skin was scrubbed red raw. The strong smell of sandalwood emanated from the suds, a tiny hint of vanilla. It was hypnotic, and Yuta paused with his chest and arms done. The bubbles were washed off patches of raw skin as the smell lingered, assaulting Yuta’s memories like a punching bag.

“Fuck, Mox.” Yuta’s moans echoed in the tiled shower.

Yuta could recall the scent well. Even during training, all sweaty and wet, Yuta could smell the lingering notes of sandalwood and vanilla on Mox. It was one of the things he loved when Mox would cuddle up to him or sit too close. Comfortable and safe, until a few days prior.

Looking down, Yuta saw himself getting hard at the memories of Mox. Strong muscle, coarse hair, and the smell. Cigarettes, sandalwood, and just a little vanilla. As Yuta’s cock filled out his mind brought up images of Mox, but he fixated on a memory he had of the other man.

Hand on his cock Yuta envisioned Mox, in some nondescript hotel room with sheets to match. Sometimes if Mox was tired enough he’d fall asleep in his towel after a shower. Laying face down on the bed, Mox’s back glistened, still damp and warmed from the water. Yuta thought about all the details.

The way Mox’s scars caught water, how his body hair dried. The way the sleeping man had both arms under his head as a pillow. One foot slightly off the bed. Peaceful slumber painted his face as Yuta stepped closer and closer. One hand undoing his belt, quietly pulling it through each loop.

The tantalizing scene in Yuta’s head played out as he stroked his throbbing cock. A light hand worked his shaft so he didn’t get too excited. This was a fantasy he wanted to actually experience instead of rush through. It wasn’t something he’d ever indulged with before now, and he didn’t know why that changed.

In his mind Yuta started undoing the button and zipper of his jeans as he got to the hotel bed. One knee planted between Mox’s legs as he reached up to bring the other man’s hands down. It took a few seconds to thread his belt around Mox’s wrist until he was tied up.

“Yoots?” Mox muttered, his tired face turning towards the younger man.

“Yeah, Mox?” Yuta started to peel the towel back to reveal one of the best asses he’d ever seen. Thick muscles sculpted into two beautiful globes. “So hot.”

“Wha’s up?” Mox shook his wrists, sleepiness still affecting his judgment.

“Don’t worry about that, baby,” Yuta assured the other as he moved around.

“‘Kay.” Mox let his head fall back onto the bed, eyes closing because of the trust he had in his young boy.

Yuta mounted Mox with ease, his cock slipping between the other’s cheeks. The rush of power and euphoria made Yuta’s head spin. There was a slight grunt from Mox as the weight settled down and the rough material of jeans scratched his skin. It didn’t matter, not to Yuta, and neither did the uncomfortable position his prey was in.

Below him there was some shifting from Mox as he realized how uncomfortable the position felt. A slight strain of the back and tensing of muscles let Yuta know the other was exactly where he wanted. Hands started tracing the damp scars, finding nonexistent patterns and shapes.

“Hm?” Mox tried to look back.

“Ready for me, baby?” Yuta grunted as he sat up on his knees, pushing the other’s legs further apart.

“No? I don’t…wha?” Mox shook his head as he felt the pressure against his hole.

No lube or prep went into it. It took a lot of effort to push in, and when he did Mox howled in pain. The belt was tugged and pulled but kept Mox immobilized as Yuta fucked into him. It felt so good, Yuta thought, as he slammed into the man below him.

“Fuck! Wheeler!” Mox cried out. “Please!”

“Please what, bitch?” Yuta was breathless, losing all composure.

“Stop!” Mox cried. “It hurts. Please?”

“Stop? You want me to stop?” Yuta breathlessly spoke as he leaned over Mox’s back. “No. I’m taking what’s mine.”

The hot water of the shower washed the seed away as Yuta came hard into his hand. It was good, even satisfying, Yuta realized as he came down from the euphoria. The fantasy stayed there, playing more even after Yuta finished. Thinking about the way Mox would fight back, wiggling to get away maybe. The violence of the situation made Yuta feel like he could go again.

Before he could delve more into this newly uncovered fantasy, the bathroom door opened. Yuta jumped, turning to look even though the glass of the door was fogged over. The place was filled with steam from the too hot shower, even wiping the glass didn’t help. For some reason Yuta’s anxiety ramped up thinking it was maybe Mox or Claudio, he wasn’t exactly sure why that also made him even more horny.

“Wheeler?” Bryan’s voice called. “You better be in there. That’s a lot of water to wa--”

“I’m here. Yeah.” Yuta squeaked, quickly reaching out to turn the temperature down. “Are you okay? You weren’t here when I woke up.”

“I’m good.” Bryan’s cheerful voice played over the rushing of water. “I went for a run af--”

Yuta threw the door of the shower open frantically.

“You went for a run? Bryan, you’re not cleared!” Yuta shouted, suddenly unreasonably angry. “What the hell is wrong with you? After what happ--”

“Wheeler, Wheeler. Relax.” Bryan frowned. “I went this morning while you slept after I got medically cleared to start training again. I’m fine.”

“That was today?” Yuta looked the other man over. Seeing his boyfriend in running gear made his stomach knot up. “I-I was supposed to go with you.”

“It was just a doctor’s appointment. You were asleep finally so I didn’t wake you up. Wheeler, you’ve got a match soon and you’ve not slept at all.” Bryan cocked his head to the side. “You don’t even know what day it is.”

“I-I-” Yuta closed his eyes tightly as he tried to focus and figure out what the fuck was happening.

“You’re wasting water, Wheeler,” Bryan pointed out with disappointment.

“Sorry.” Yuta turned to get back in so he could turn the water off completely. “I just wanted to be there, Bryan.” The fluffy blue towel wrapped around Yuta’s waist as he hung his head.

“You leave tonight for Ohio,” Bryan sighed as he finished undressing.

“I do?” Yuta considered the days, frowning at the mirror. When had he lost so many days? “Uh, wh-who am I--?”

“Fuck. You don’t even know? I need you to focus, Wheeler, okay? Do you understand me?” Bryan’s stern voice felt like a cheese grater. “You’re wrestling Anthony Henry in Ohio on Collision.”

“Okay. Well.” Yuta shrugged, finally standing up right. “I can beat Henry.”

“Not if you’re going to be this distracted. Not knowing what day it is, who you’re matched up against, not training, not sleeping. You’re going to forget your boots too.” Bryan rolled his eyes.

“Fuck you. I’ve been--” Yuta paused, unable to articulate anything.

“You’ve been what, Wheeler?” Bryan shook his head. “You’ve been distracted. Figure it out. You can’t let what happened distract you. Got it?”

The nerve of Bryan saying that struck something in Yuta. For a moment he just stared at the other man, trying to figure out what was going on. Maybe Bryan was in denial or something, Yuta couldn’t just ask. Neither one of them was ready to talk about it. Clearly.

“Got it.” Yuta nodded curtly before exiting the bathroom.

+++

Traveling alone, to Ohio no less, was a tough experience. Even though Yuta had traveled by himself before this felt different. This was alone. There wasn’t going to be anyone waiting for him here or on the connecting flight, not at the hotel or even the arena. Even Bryan couldn’t do the drop off since he wasn’t supposed to be driving yet.

Not that Bryan seemed to want to take his prodigy. That was something Yuta had to just chalk up to Bryan still being messed up from Chicago. That was what he had to keep telling himself about a lot of things.

The whole trip was numbing. No excitement or anxiety bubbling up. Granted that could have been the excess of pills he had been taking. By the time Yuta got into his hotel room he was ready to pass out. At least he hoped he was, because he still hadn’t slept. The night before didn’t count because he woke up still exhausted.

In the morning Yuta had to get up to work out, something he promised his mentor. Now he was thinking about just skipping it. No one would notice. Sleeping was probably more important. Another pill was popped while the rest sat on the bedside table.

Despite best efforts, Yuta tossed and turned unable to fully rest. There weren’t any vivid, unrememberable nightmares this time. Small things to be thankful for, he thought while staring at the shadows passing across the ceiling. Yuta tried not to think about how the morning would come soon, leaving him unrested for his match.

Yuta let his mind wander since nothing else was working. Slowly his eyes drifted closed to the fantasy he had about Mox while in the shower. The way Mox looked while struggling, the sounds he was making. It was easy to conjure up the scene, after all Yuta knew Mox pretty well at this point.

It had never occurred to Yuta he may have a rape kink, but here he was fantasizing about just that. Yuta also didn’t take long, just thinking about Mox begging him to stop sending him over. Come spilled over into his hand with a grunt, still thinking about forcing Mox.

Getting up was out of the question so Yuta just cleaned himself off with his t-shirt. The smear of come across the old BCC logo wasn’t lost on him. Settling back in Yuta realized he was still thinking about it. What would it be like to force such a strong man? Make him beg and cry?

As Yuta pondered just those things he started to drift off, finding peace as he fell asleep. Actually fell asleep, and the sleep was good. Relief and recovery flooded Yuta, he was sure he could have slept for days if not for the courtesy call from the front desk. The one Bryan made him set up just to be sure Yuta got some training in and didn’t oversleep.

Training was the last thing the young man wanted to do. The hotel gym was empty since it was so early. Yuta tried to motivate himself through the workout by telling himself he could go straight back to bed until it was show time. There just wasn't anything there. No drive or focus.

“I can beat Henry,” Yuta mumbled to himself.

The reflection from the mirror caught the haunted look. The stress, pain, and disconnection all etched into his face. Exhaustion stayed creeping around the edges, threatening to reinvade. Breaks in the mask that Yuta put on for everyone else, little fractures that would soon become a serious threat.

Considering how he had been eating lately, which was nothing at all, Yuta realized he needed to eat if he was going to wrestle tonight. Even though Yuta wasn't hungry he figured that could be why he looked so terrible. There wasn’t much he had been eating lately. Once up in his room Yuta called for room service, ordering a decent sized breakfast and coffee. The likelihood of him eating everything was slim but at least there would be coffee.

By the time the bell boy came by with Yuta’s breakfast he was showered and watching some movie. After handing off the tip Yuta sat down as the guy left the room. None of the food looked that good to him as he stared down what he ordered. After heavy consideration the coffee and the waffles were taken first. Settling back on the couch to watch the movie, so he had a distraction while he ate.

“Nothing?” The head FBI agent asked in the movie.

“Nothing,” the main guy responded.

“Go home, kid. Get the hell outta here. Get some sleep. You look like shit. They get anything even resembles your guy, I'm on your beeper. Here. You like feta?” The boss agent was offering food to the main guy.

“Feta. My favorite.”

Yuta wasn’t paying much attention, but he realized he’d seen this movie a lot. Like a lot. Enough to remember most of the lines.

“Johnny…” the boss agent said as Yuta finally looked up at the screen, drinking his lukewarm hotel coffee. “All I wanna know is one thing, why didn't you just take the shot?”

“I don't know,” Johnny responded.

“I see why Mox thinks this movie is hot,” Yuta mumbled against the ceramic edge of the cup as the next scene rolled around.

Most of the coffee was gone so quick, Yuta figured it was time to dive into the food. Nothing looked good, but nothing had for days now. The first bite of waffle was actually fantastic. Yuta moaned softly as he started eating quicker. The sweet fluffiness filled Yuta up. New life came over him as he felt warmer and happier as soon as the food hit his stomach.

Even Yuta’s anxiety and depression were lifting. The slow, deep ache he was constantly feeling started to recede. Weight was taken from his shoulders allowing him to actually relax, sinking into the couch as the movie flashed interestingly in front of him. Food practically forgotten about, his entire existence changed.

The couch was breaking away leaving Wheeler feeling like he was floating in water. Gently drifting along the surface in the calm, cool currents. Waves gently rolling onto the beach. A liquid lull that nearly pulled Yuta into blessed sleep. Eyes and body getting heavier like sand washing up on the shore.

The movie played on regardless of Yuta’s state. Mesmerizing colors traced across the scene. As the weight of exhaustion dragged Yuta down he finally drifted off for a moment, thinking about how he needed to set an alarm. Just in case he overslept, but he couldn't will his body into action.

Just as the last bit of consciousness left Yuta he could have sworn he heard the mechanical lock whirling to life on the door. Someone was coming into the hotel room. Even the threat of an unknown person in the room couldn’t motivate Yuta into doing anything more than tip his head to the side to try to see.

“Hey, you’re watching my favorite movie, prince.” Mox’s voice floated through Yuta’s psyche.

+++

Stress. It was all the stress. Like the nurse had said back when Bryan was in the hospital, stress is a very serious thing. This was another stress nightmare. That was the only way Yuta could accept what was happening. Even everything felt the same as that night, as fleeting as Yuta’s memory was of that event.

Slowly waking up to a much darker hotel, it was difficult for Yuta to adjust. The TV was still playing the movie, the food was still out, and he was still on the couch. Somehow it felt different, even looked a little different. Like a dream.

Just like a dream Mox was standing there. Beautifully basked in the glow of his preferred movie, attention captivated by the moving frames. The three quarter profile really showed Mox off to Yuta as he scanned over the shirtless frame of his boyfriend (yes, ex). The trim waist made Mox’s ass pop. Yuta’s eyes hovered over the thick muscles of the other man’s backside before moving up to examine his abs and the way muscle flexed around Mox’s ribcage, and perfectly defined pecs covered in wiry hair.

On screen the final fight between the two guys played, Mox’s eyes locked onto the image. While Patrick Swazye and Keanu Reeves backdropped each other, Mox started undoing his jeans. There was an audible sigh from the pseudo king at the relief. The light blue jockstrap peeked out from under the jeans slipping down his hips.

“This has gotta be a dream,” Yuta muttered as he let his head fall back.

“There’s my prince.” Mox easily tore his eyes away from the screen to smile at his young boy, preferring Yuta to his own favorite movie.

“Wha’s goin’ on, Jon?” Yuta hated not being able to speak well, his words bleeding out at the ends.

“You have a match tonight,” Mox mentioned as he walked around to stand over the other. “You almost done?”

“Wha?” Yuta blinked a few times before he heard another voice.

“One minute and I’ll be finished, King.” Claudio’s voice came from behind the couch.

“Wha’ the fuck?” Yuta jumped, trying to move but nothing moved. In fact something pulled.

“Don’t start that, sweetheart.” Mox reached out to run his fingers through Yuta’s hair, pacifying the panic with affection. “Claudio’s just making sure you’re secure, then it’ll be just the two of us.”

“Jus’ t’two of us?” Yuta blinked up at the other man. Feelings came back to him as he remembered the hospital, instead of being afraid he was confused and horny. Just like now.

“Finished.” Claudio’s voice came over the room once more.

“That was exactly one minute.” Mox grinned over the couch at the other.

“I know,” Claudio acknowledged as he walked around to look at the young man on the couch. “We didn’t want you to strain yourself before your match.”

Mox nodded along, hand coming up to cup the back of Claudio’s head to pull him down for a kiss. Just as they had at the hospital the pair bit more than kissed. Mox did all the biting as he bit into Claudio’s mouth until the larger man bled. There wasn’t as much red as there had been but Claudio wore it proudly, stars lighting up his eyes as he looked down at Mox.

“You’re good,” Mox muttered against the other’s lips.

“I am?” Claudio’s whisper made Yuta feel like this was a moment he wasn’t supposed to experience. It felt odd, out of place. It kind of made the younger man feel even more like he was in a fever dream.

“You are.” Mox placed the larger man’s hand over the tacky cross necklace he had been wearing.

“Thank you, King.” Claudio bowed his head to the other man before starting to step back, but the ‘King’ stopped him.

“If you’d like to say anything to him, give him a little something.” Mox nodded towards Yuta. “Want him to remember who cares about him after all.”

“It is your night--” Claudio shook his head humbly as if he couldn’t even consider taking this time away from his king.

“Remember when it comes to the prince, he’s ours,” Mox insisted.

Yuta was sure he was in some sort of fever dream now. It wasn’t just the fog in his brain. It wasn’t often Claudio was vulnerable like that, in so few words. To Yuta that wasn’t something his old boyfriend would do. Or maybe he was just in denial about what was happening? Thoughts raced back and forth until Claudio came over.

“Sweetheart.” Claudio knelt down, one knee on the carpet just like a knight paying respect.

“Claudio?” Yuta felt teary eyed for some reason.

“I want you to know something very important.” Claudio made sure they kept eye contact, making sure their young boy was listening. “You are an incredible wrestler. Accept your violence. I can tell no one has been taking care of you during this time.” There was a pause where the Swiss giant had to collect himself. “I know you must be exhausted, but you have tonight under control.”

“Wha’?” Yuta recoiled at the faithful trust the other still had in him.

“You can beat Henry any day of the week, under any conditions. I know you can because I trained you.” Claudio bowed his head. “Do not let anyone make you believe you can’t handle what you’re doing tonight. You’ll win, sweetheart.”

“I-I-” Yuta felt himself start to cry a little. Crisp, high emotions soared through every space in his body as the words being directed towards him. “--love you.”

“I love you too.” Claudio leaned forward to catch the other’s lips in a sickeningly sweet kiss sealed in the older man’s blood. “I’ll leave you two to it.”

The tall man stood up from his place kneeling in front of Yuta. Walking away towards the door like a ghost leaving the scene of a haunting. Every weird, strange feeling Yuta had been grappling with welled up like a tsunami, crashing against the sides of his skull. Yuta felt like he might drown in it.

Suddenly it all stopped. Calm waters washed over the shores. Yuta felt himself coming back down from the emotional high. The strange confessional left Yuta heartbroken and motivated in what he previously considered wrong directions. He closed his eyes, letting his head fall back.

At some point it permeated Yuta that Claudio had been tying him up. The crafty freak was able to tie him down. Arms stretched over the back of the coarse hotel couch, wrists tied. There was just enough slack to not strain him. Both ankles were tied in some web Yuta couldn’t figure out. Probably anchored to the feet of the couch, but he wasn’t exactly sure.

What Yuta was sure about was that he was naked. All the clothes he had been wearing seemed to have vanished when he woke up. Not only was he nude, but his cock laid half hard against his thigh. Clearly interested in whatever this was, after all he had been jerking off to the reverse of this not long ago. (Maybe it was a wet dream, Yuta tried to convince himself).

“Hey, baby.” Mox smiled fondly as he walked over to his young boy. “How’re you doing?”

“Don’ know.” Yuta admitted as his eyes honed in on the other man’s crotch. “Wha’s goin’ on?”

“I just wanted to see you before your match,” Mox admitted, a little shrug. “Been thinkin’ about you.”

“Huh.” Yuta couldn’t think of much more to say because Mox looked genuine. The cute puppy quality to the man’s eyes was there. It was the first hint Yuta really saw of his old boyfriend.

“I know you’re going through a lot right now. Everything seems too big and terrifying, I’m sure. Just trust us, okay?” Mox was in nothing but the jock that Yuta was pretty sure he got for the pseudo king. “I wanted it to be just the two of us right now.”

“Trust you?” Yuta laughed at that, maybe that wasn’t fair in such a tender moment but he couldn’t stop himself.

“Yeah. Trust us.” Mox frowned, reaching out to stroke Yuta’s beard. It was untamed at the moment. “Same way you trust Claudio to do your beard on match days.”

“I donno,” Yuta admitted, his eyes growing soft and heavy until he let them close. It was nice to feel affection again that didn’t make his skin crawl.

“That’s okay. I know. Claudio knows.” Mox let his hand drop to the back of the couch so he could move onto the couch himself, settling right on top of his young boy’s lap. “You’re ours, Wheeler. You belong with us. Sooner you realize that the better.”

There were too many words swimming around so Mox leaned in to kiss Yuta softly. Easy and calm, nothing like Yuta was expecting. Their lips danced together, tongues meeting. It was so good, lighting everything up for the younger man as he gave himself over. Slowly Mox started rocking his hips, allowing Yuta to rub his cock against the exposed ass on top of him.

Soft moans were exchanged as they both got into it. The ropes tugged when Yuta tried to move to touch the beautiful body above him. Mox snickered a little at Yuta’s whine. Large hands started to explore since the younger man clearly wanted to. Some kind of denial torment that made Yuta’s pulse quicken. Just the right kind of touches to really stir his appetite.

The hands stayed gentle as Mox’s mouth descended on his young boy’s neck. The rough bites and nips were playful. It felt good enough that Yuta tipped his head to the side so that the other had more skin. Mox was easily entertained, much like a puppy with a new chew toy, just gnawing at the hard muscles.

“Been worried about ya.” Mox finally stopped the oral assault to speak. “Like our big guy said, no one’s been taking care of you.”

“M’fine,” Yuta muttered, his hips rolling as his aching erection called for more attention.

“Don’t lie to me.” Mox cupped the younger man’s cheek, making them see eye to eye. “You don’t have to.”

“I--” Yuta’s head was so foggy he had no idea what he was thinking. “Dreamed o’you?”

“Asking or telling me that, kid?” Mox sat up, shifting back on the lap he was perched on.

“Tellin’.” Yuta blinked a few times, willing the haze to go away. “Oh fuck, Mox.”

A wet, warm hand wrapped around Yuta’s aching dick, a light squeeze that sent sparks all over his body. He felt heightened. Just that touch nearly had Yuta ending prematurely. The gentle glide of Mox’s hand was all he could focus on anymore.

“Feel good, baby?” Mox grinned, leaning in for another kiss. This time it was quicker. “Tell me your dream.”

“Ah. Dreamin’ righ’ now.” Yuta shrugged, or at least attempted to.

“That what it feels like, Wheeler? You’re dreamin’?” Mox questioned.

“Yeah. It’s ’ll warm an’ soft.” Yuta moaned at the skilled way the other knew his way around the cock in hand. “Feels good.”

“Tell me about your dream, sweetheart.” Mox returned to the topic at hand.

“S’not very nice,” Yuta admitted.

“Good. I like it when you’re mean.” Mox let go of his young boy’s cock.

“No,” Yuta whined and opened his eyes.

“Relax. Tell me the dream anyways.” Mox pushed as he repositioned himself over the hard dick he just had in his hand.

“Fuck, Mox.” Yuta was paying more attention as he felt the head of his cock press against Mox’s wet hole. Slight pressure. “Please, please, Wanna fuck you again…”

“You will, sweet prince. You will.” Mox groaned loudly, totally unashamed as he slowly took Yuta’s cock.

“It-- I--” Yuta could’t focus but he wanted to answer. Actually wanted to reveal himself to his tormentor.

“That’s it, Wheeler, fuck. You fill me so fuckin’ good.” Mox let out a sigh of relief as he seated himself fully on the younger man.

“R-Raped you,” Yuta confessed as they looked into each other’s eyes, deeply connected via each other’s bodies.

It wasn't just that Yuta saw how much that turned on Mox. He could feel it too. The insanely tight passage clenched around Yuta’s cock. There was a slight swivel of hips too. The aggressive hunger on Mox’s face pried more details out of the younger man.

“T-Tied your hands…up.” Yuta bit his lip as the man in his lap started moving. “W-With…my belt.”

“Fuck, Wheeler, I’m--” Mox shook his head as he started to really fuck himself. “I wish you had.”

“Fucked,” Yuta said breathlessly, not able to put the phrase together without a pause. “Dry.”

“Bet you did.” Mox groaned, one of his hands lacing through Yuta’s locks at the back of his head. “Fucked me dry until I cried, huh?” The hand tightened, pulling the younger man’s head back hard. “That’s so fuckin’ hot, you don’t even know.”

“It is?” Yuta couldn’t believe that but he thought it was hot obviously.

“Fuck, yeah. You wanna rape me, Wheeler? Make me your bitch? Maybe pay me back for all the shit I did?” Mox grinned at the wide eyed look directed at him.

“Yes!” Yuta nearly found himself shouting, trying to thrust up into Mox but finding little room.

“I want you to too,” Mox confessed right in Yuta’s ear.

Yuta felt his eyes roll back in his head. It was too much. Everything was too hot again. There was a burning inside of the young man, a need to take something back. All he wanted was to be able to break free of the ropes and throw Mox onto the floor. Hell, it seemed like even Mox wanted that. But the ropes didn’t budge. Of course not, Yuta thought to himself, this was exactly where he wanted to be after all.

For some reason Mox started to slow down. A slow, gradual rocking of the hips. It was good, teasingly tender and Yuta wanted to cry. This soft side was too reminiscent of before. Mox’s head was practically resting on Yuta’s shoulder, so the younger man tipped his head in to nuzzle Mox. There was a soft hum of approval that made Yuta smirk as he bit down hard on whatever he could find.

Mox growled in pain as he stopped moving. One rough hand landed on Yuta’s neck while he latched onto the underside of Mox’s jaw. The hand started to squeeze. At first Yuta thought Mox was about to choke him, but that wasn’t it. There was pressure at the bottom of Yuta’s jaw making him slowly unclench his jaw. The way one would do to a dog.

“Disappointing.” Mox grunted as he set up but kept a hand on his captive’s neck. Checking his own neck he touched the bite mark only to find saliva. “No blood?”

“I--” Yuta tried to say something, what he wasn’t sure of, but thankfully Mox stopped him before he needed to think of more words. The hand on his neck moved to tightly hold his chin. “Huh?”

“If you’re gonna hurt me, Wheeler,” Mox grunted as he wiped the spit off his neck onto his hand, “At least make it worth it. Make me bleed. I know you’re better than this.” Mox wiped the bit of spit across Yuta’s face. “You’ve made me bleed plenty of times. C’mon.”

“Fuck…you.” Yuta growled, tugging again at the ropes. “If--If not-- I’m tied down!”

“And I gave you the perfect opportunity to rip my throat out. Take it.” Mox growled.

Something inside Yuta woke up, a fire rekindled. Mox was right. He was capable of hurting the man on top of him, even bound, there were plenty of times Yuta was able to inflict violence. The first thought was to headbutt but they were too far apart with too little slack. Instead Yuta worked up all the spit he could. The medium sized glob landed on Mox’s cheek, catching in the ginger beard hairs.

“Atta boy.” Mox grinned down at his captive. “That’s what we want outta you.”

“Little closer,” Yuta said as he bared his teeth. “I’ll show you more.”

“You better, kid.” Mox winked.

Their lips met suddenly, a hard crash of teeth that pushed Yuta’s head back. The wet spot on the other man’s cheek smeared across Yuta’s darker beard. Tension amped as Mox prepared himself for whatever the younger man was going to do, but Yuta just kissed back.

Slowly Mox untensed, his body going slack as he started to ride his young boy again. The hand on Yuta’s jaw went lax too. An opportunity happened the moment Mox gave up on there being some sort violence. Without hesitation Yuta bit hard into the other man’s lip.

The taste of rich copper was well known to the both of them. Mox gave an initial jerk but Yuta didn’t let go. Sharp teeth dug in deeper the louder the older man moaned. It was hard but Yuta tried his best to buck his hips too. The little bit of room was just enough to send his message.

Blood was in Yuta’s beard now. Instead of pulling away Mox tried to lean in, less tension but it just gave Yuta the opportunity to latch onto another part of the torn lip. For a brief moment Yuta wished he would be able to inflict enough damage to cause stitches, but he doubted he could do that in his current state. Still he tried. His cock throbbed each time he heard the pained whimper from Mox.

One of Mox’s hands was on his own dick, while the other was pushing on Yuta’s shoulder again. Trying to create space or end their bloody kiss all together. It wasn’t going to be on Mox’s terms though. The more the older man tried to get out of the kiss the more Yuta kept his hold firm.

The static electric pleasure was bouncing off the both of them, wiring them together. Against his stomach Yuta could feel how rough Mox was being with his own dick. Hips moving up and down in quick, little motions that were driving Yuta insane but probably did wonders for Mox. Finally Mox dragged his hand over to Yuta’s throat and started to squeeze. A warning to let go.

Yuta did not let go. There was no warning he was willing to heed at this point. He snarled as the hand gripped tighter. The throb of Yuta’s pulse rushed in his ears, keeping time with the ache in his cock. Buried deep inside the man choking him, that man’s blood between them. They fucked as they fought, struggling in a strange display of parallel dominance.

Stars started sparkling in Yuta's vision as darkness carved out the edges. Carefully breathing through the choking was ingrained in the young man, but it was eventually too much. Mox’s bloodied mouth was released, Yuta’s head falling back as he searched for air. Once released Mox let go of his young boy’s neck.

The entire time Mox had his hand on his dick. After a few seconds Yuta could barely open his eyes, looking up at the pseudo king. Red smeared, some even dripping. Mox looked so pleased, so turned on. Finally the hand on his dick stopped only to come up to collect some blood and reach back into his jock.

“Fuck,” Yuta muttered, opened-mouth breathing because of all the blood and spit.

“What’s wrong, kid?” Mox smirked like he had achieved something but the younger man just shook his head.

“It’s hot,” Yuta admitted, his eyes trying to catch sight of the inside of the jock. “Lemme see your hand.”

“Sick fuck.” Mox once more brought his hand out, presenting it to Yuta.

All of the mixed fluids gathered in Yuta’s mouth were spat into the awaiting hand. It wasn’t going to be good lube; there was something disgusting and hot about Mox smearing his spit and blood all over his dick. The look of pleasure that came over his face made Yuta moan too.

“S’hot. H-Hard--” Yuta tried to encourage. “Harder.”

“Hm. Demanding brat.” Mox’s tongue stuck out a little as he kept the pace and depth he was at.

“Fuck you,” Yuta grunted, trying to hold onto the anger in the sea of pleasure. “What’d’you wann’ from me?”

“Tell me you’re gonna win. Tell me you’re going to fuck Henry up.” Mox looked sternly down at the other, their eyes staying locked. “All I want is you to win and keep winning.”

“Weird…way’o showin’ it,” Yuta muttered, trying to shake off the hand.

Something dark took over Mox’s face. It wasn’t anger, but Yuta had a feeling he was in trouble. The hand returned to the younger man’s neck, holding him still as Mox leaned in. Slow tantalizing rock of their hips kept the pleasure heightened. Blood-wet lips pressed against Yuta’s ear.

“You have no idea.” Mox’s husky voice echoed through his young boy’s ear. “Think I haven’t been where you are right now? Where do you think we learned it all from, kid? You’ll understand, soon. Just enjoy it, like you have been.”

“Don’ wan’ this.” Yuta tried again but his dick was still rock hard inside the other.

“Neither did I,” Mox admitted, his teeth nibbling on his young boy’s ear. “It was still hot as fuck. It didn’t matter what I wanted, it was about giving me what I needed. I had no choice in the matter because Lordship knew best.”

“Jon, please.” Yuta tried to shake his head.

“It’s okay. You can imagine it,” Mox teased, deciding to pick up the pace now. Powerful thighs working to bring him further up and back down. They moaned together.

“Fuck.” Yuta’s broken sob came from his chest. Somehow Mox knew that he was getting off to this. His brain conjured up the exact images he needed to imagine the scene Mox was telling. It made an intense guilt pool with the horniness.

“The first time was in the locker rooms. It was fucking insane. We fought, but of course I couldn’t win.” Mox kissed down Yuta’s neck. “Not when my head felt like yours.” Teeth scratched at Yuta’s pulse. “We’re different, Wheeler.”

“Different.” Yuta had closed his eyes long ago, violent pornographic scenes playing for him. There was something that needed to be reconciled deep within, some sort of split that Yuta needed to stitch together.

“Fuck me. You remind me so much of Claudio.” Mox panted, really working himself up now. “You just think you have to be such a nice guy, baby, but you don’t. It took so much to break that nice guy act down, but once you get underneath? There’s so much more. He just never knew it either.”

“Mox?” Yuta grunted, pushing against the hand. “Mox?”

“Hey, relax.” Mox let go of his young boy’s face, and pulled away so he couldn’t be attacked. “What?”

“I’m gonna win. I’m gonna fuck Henry up. Doesn’t matter-- forgot my boots or not. Fuckin’ win.” Yuta forced the words out as he looked up into the king’s face.

“God damn right,” Mox growled. “You’re fuckin’ perfect, Wheeler.”

Their foreheads came together, nuzzling at each other as if this were the ring. They shared each other's air and space. Despite being joined they weren’t close enough. Mox scrambled, grabbing and pressing himself fully against his young boy, blood and sweat allowing their skin to slide together.

Tears caught in the corners of Yuta’s eyes. There wasn’t anything wrong, he wasn’t hurting or upset. Were they were happy tears? Yuta had to admit they were. The emotion welling up inside him at Mox calling him perfect stitched the broken parts of Yuta back together. He felt so raw and new, like a freshly healed wound.

The rough way their bodies were moving together was countered by the soft kisses Mox laid across his young boy’s cheek. Their lips ended up together again, rough but normal aside from the blood. A shaky half moan, half sob wormed its way out of Yuta’s chest.

“Let it out. No one else’ll know,” Mox spoke, still lip to lip, muttering in barely audible words. “Want us to come together, baby.”

“Please, Mox, please.” Yuta begged for release as the tears started to slide down his face.

“Fuck. Good boy. Look at you.” Mox watched the tears slipping down Yuta’s face, he hadn’t stopped really working his hips but he was finally starting to ride his young boy properly. “You’re so fuckin’ pretty, baby.”

The more Mox said the more of Yuta’s tears slipped out. More compliments, soft words following. The unshakable faith Mox had in his young boy, what he saw in his young boy, all the while riding Yuta to the breaking point.

“Ah, fuck. Come on. Be a good boy, and come with daddy, yeah?” Mox growled, his hand being shoved back into his jockstrap.

“Daddy,” Yuta hiccuped between his moans and crying.

“Yeah, baby, c’mon. You’re all pent up.” Mox was breathless as he sweet talked. “Ain’t no one been takin’ care of you, huh? And I’ve been playing with you far too long. Fill daddy up, Wheeler. Be a good boy.”

The words were going straight to Yuta’s cock. Sure there were plenty of times Mox begged to be bred, but this time he wasn’t begging. Practically ordering his young boy in the nicest way. Yuta felt his balls tighten as Mox purposely squeezed around him, making himself tight.

Yuta snapped at the tight feeling squeezing his cock, coming deep inside the tight passage. They shared more fluid as Yuta felt his seed flood Mox. Somehow Mox managed to shoot off at the same time causing senstational spasms through him to Yuta’s cock, massaging and milking him. They slumped together but Yuta could still feel his cock twitching and leaking.

Despite not wanting this Yuta was desperate for more, he even wished Claudio was there to take a turn. His cock was aching for more action. Mox was slowly rocking on his hips in Yuta’s lap.

“You’re a good boy, Wheeler,” Mox muttered. “But you’re only a good boy for us. Understand?”

“Yeah.” Yuta responded automatically as he floated through his post orgasm bliss. At this point he'd agree to practically anything.

“You belong with us.” Mox reiterated as he slowly kissed up Yuta's neck.

“You sure?” Yuta moaned softly at the teasing kissing.

“I'm sure.” Mox kissed the shell of his young boy's ear. “Been sure since those first forty seconds, baby.”

+++

Brrring. Brrrring.

A calamity of noise loudly rang out in the near empty hotel room. Cold food sat out since the morning, but the TV had turned itself off after a few hours. Everything was nearly pitch black.

Brrrrring. Briiiiing.

There was a heavy fog settled over Yuta’s mind, even trying to wake up in panic didn’t work. A clammy, cold sweat took over his entire body as he laid on the couch, slumped over from sitting up while he fell asleep. Everything moved like a washing machine so Yuta laid back down on the couch for a moment. The noise continued but Yuta was finding himself drifting back to sleep.

Brrriiing. Briiiiing. Briiiiing. Briiiing.

Finally it stopped so Yuta closed his eyes completely to let himself go back to sleep. There were thoughts swimming around that he couldn’t make heads or tails of at the moment. It was too much to try to decipher currently as words and images played out. And just as Yuta shoved those things out of his mind enough to sleep another noise started.

Knock. Knock.

That was at the door. It dawned on Yuta that the weird sound before had been the hotel phone and now there was knocking on his door. Slowly he started to get up, the rushing world around him blurred as he tried to get upright. A coffee cup was knocked over on the table but Yuta didn’t pay any mind to it.

Knock. Knock. Knock. Knock.

“Comin’.” Yuta finally found his raspy voice. It sounded like he’d slept with his mouth open, scratching his throat.

Knock. Knock. Knock. Knock.

“Coming!” Yuta stumbled step by step to the door, using the wall to help him. The door was finally opened. “Hi?”

“Mr. Yuta.” A woman about Yuta’s age stood on the other side with a concerned smile. “Our front desk attempted to call 3 times for your wake up call,” she informed him as she took a look at him. “So I came up to make sure you’re okay.”

“Oh. Fuck.” Yuta rubbed a hand over his face. “Yeah. I’m okay. My sleeping has been messed up a lot from all the traveling. Thank you for coming up.”

“It’s no problem, sir. Can I get you anything?” she asked as he gave the young man another look over.

“Um.” Yuta froze for a few seconds but then nodded. “Coffee?”

“Sure. I’ll have it sent right up, sir.” She smiled, gave a little bow, and took off.

The door clicked shut, the auto lock turning with a whirl. Alone, Yuta stood there for a moment with his forehead pressed against the cold metal door. Flashes of what he could only assume was another stress nightmare plagued his eyes. Slowly he turned around to slump back against the door.

Resting against the door Yuta looked down at his hands. There were no marks from fighting back. No rope burn or bruising on his wrists like he expected from being tied to the couch. Nothing. Not even irritation or muscle strain. The young man forced himself off the door too quickly, everything swam around his vision as he stumbled back towards the cold food on the coffee table.

Frantically Yuta started stacking the plates to put the room service cart in the hall. Secretly he was searching for some hidden clue that the dreams he was having were real. Nothing. Again there wasn’t anything abnormal about the coffee table. Attentions were turned towards the couch, but there wasn’t any evidence there either.

Vaguely Yuta could remember blood and come during his dream. Blankets of craziness started to suffocate him as he rushed into the ensuite bath. The bright lights bounced off the shiny mirror while Yuta’s eyes took too long to adjust. Most of his weight bared on the sink counter as he stared the reflection down.

Other than the horrible bags under Yuta’s eyes there weren't any other signs of distress or activities. It was hard to fish for pieces but Yuta tried remembering. No bite marks or bruises. Hell, Yuta didn’t even feel like he had some freaky sex.

“It was just a nightmare,” Yuta muttered to his reflection.

All those movie scenes where a character punched their mirror all made sense in that one moment. Everything about the reflection was something Yuta hated. The exhaustion in his dark eyes, the palness, the waning muscles. It all made a rock of self hate settle in the young man’s stomach. The reflection wasn’t who he truly was, but every day he was feeling more and more like the ghost before him.

“Fuck you,” Yuta growled at the man in the mirror. “You’re weak. You wouldn’t be able to beat Henry.” He narrowed his eyes, anger and pain starting a fire. “But I can.”

The lights were cut off sharply as Yuta left the room. Whatever fog was lifting as he came out of the bathroom to get dressed. Everything was coming into sharp focus, something inside him shifted into the right place. There was a sense of confidence that was back.

All Yuta needed was his bags and he went to leave. Along the way he passed the hotel employee bringing up the pot of coffee, but Yuta didn’t have time to lament the lost coffee. He pulled the hood over his head as he got out to his car to leave for the arena.

+++

Once at the arena Yuta was hit by a wave of longing for his team. Hesitantly he pulled his phone out to check the messages he knew Bryan hadn’t sent. There was nothing new. As he opened up the message field to type something out a text came in at the top. Yuta blinked a few times as his blood ran cold.

It took a moment to build up the courage. As the screen with Bryan remained unchanged, a text from Claudio awaited. Closing his eyes Yuta took a deep breath before pulling up the new message.

“You’re going to win tonight. Remember Anthony Henry isn’t someone to be taken lightly, but you are the better competitor. You are stronger, more violent, and technically sound. Remember your training. Good luck, Wheeler. Not that you need it.”

This was the message that Yuta carved from Bryan. The advice and support that could be easily given. All of the earlier clarity was receding, leaving a void of emotion as everything settled in. There was no reason for Yuta to be getting supportive texts from Claudio but not Bryan. This couldn't just be about Bryan being hurt right now, even though he’d gone running and to doctor’s appointments.

With a scowl Yuta returned to his message with his mentor. The letters appeared under his thumbs as he let his emotions drive his actions. Hitting send without even considering otherwise. There was something deeply wrong and it was breaking inside Yuta.

“I’m going to fucking win tonight.”

The car door slammed. Anger and confusion swirling around in Yuta’s head as he made his way inside. Everything was feeling numb and far away. Just before the corner that led to the locker rooms Yuta felt his phone go off, he stopped to open the message. A small smile spread when he saw it was from Bryan.

“I’d hope so, Wheeler. It’s Anthony Henry.”

That was all. Yuta closed his eyes, counted to ten and put his phone away. Being immediately accosted by the media team made Yuta shut down. He could hear words but they didn’t make much sense. Expect the word Bryan. Somehow he found himself talking, but he wasn’t exactly sure what he was saying either. The words weren’t anything.

The jab Bryan made about forgetting his boots played over and over in his head for some reason. Even as he spoke quietly about Bryan’s condition. As the zipper came apart Yuta instantly realized he somehow did forget his boots. They weren’t tucked away in the under pocket of the gear bag meant for them.

Panic set in as Yuta walked away from the conversation. The one thing. The stupid one thing that he just couldn’t forget. Once in the empty locker room still labeled BCC Yuta paced around as he tried to remember if he just left them in the hotel or all the way at Bryan’s place. There was a memory Yuta had of packing the boots but not taking anything out at the hotel so nothing was forgotten. It wasn’t like Yuta’s memory was super reliable.

“Fuck, fuck.” Yuta shook his head. Anything else could have been forgotten but not this. “Maybe uh…the tailors?”

Without much thought Yuta went along to find the costume, wardrobe, and tailor people. It wasn’t a fruitful journey. Wrestlers were too particular so they didn’t keep any kind of boots on hand or shoes for wrestling in general. Too many varieties, they said as Yuta walked off in a semiconscious state.

The lonely, cold locker room was depressing. A lot of ideas were running through the young boy’s head, like did he have to wrestle shoeless? Rage was washing up on the shores of Yuta’s emotions until he noticed something sitting by his gear,

“What the actual fuck?!” Yuta screamed as he saw a pair of his boots tossed near his bag. “I don’t fucking--”

Deep heavy breaths started to help there be some level of calm. Enough to go look at the pair. They were just some random pair of his boots, but not the ones he thought he packed. Leaning down Yuta realized there was a piece of paper tucked inside the right boot.

Heard you were missing boots. You left these in my truck last time we were in Ohio together. You’re gonna fucking kill Henry tonight. --MOX

Upon closer inspection Yuta could remember leaving these. They weren’t his favorite, for some reason the instep was too narrow on the right foot. Last time these boots were on his feet was in Ohio, he remembered tossing them in annoyance in the back and refusing to get them as a joke. If Mox was in the building, he would have driven here in that truck and saw Yuta’s interview moment. It made sense, it made perfect senses.

But Yuta was pretty sure he packed his fucking boots.

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aloneinthehellfire · 1 year ago

Text

Chapter One: A New Friend, A New Enemy

The Pariahs That Saved The World (Masterlist)

Word Count: 5.1k

Warnings: mentions of death, canon descriptions (vecna's curse)

[A/N: Thank you to everyone who seems really excited about this! I am going to try and post for this one weekly, just so I have enough time between uni and work to write new chapters :) This one is a little long, but I needed to set up Reader's character a little more so enjoy!]

The Introduction <-

A New Friend, A New Enemy

“Y/n!”

You slip off your headphones and greet your grandmother with a smile, laughing when she squeezed you tight. It had been almost 8 months since you watched her wave her hand of farewell in the rear view mirror. You had missed her the most, you think. Her warm hugs, her calming perfume, the way she cared for you.

“Come on, I’ve made us some lunch.” She hurries you inside and you laugh again.

“I need to grab the rest of my things, first.” You shake your head in amusement, escaping her clutches and darting back to the taxi, thanking the man for pulling out your luggage.

Just as you hitch your duffel bag over your shoulder, your eyes catch something familiar a few houses down. A worn out and beaten Chevrolet sat abandoned outside of its former resident’s house, a white piece of paper resembling a ticket you had seen when the mechanics would return your property if not claimed. You could just make out the ‘for sale’ sign driven into the mud, your heart wrenching. You had hoped your return would be free from unwanted memories. That obviously didn’t exist in Hawkins.

“So, tell me everything. How’s Stanford?” Gran rushes through with excitement just as your feet are barely inside the door. “Oh, we are so proud of you, honey. Our little star, a Stanford journalist!”

“Gran, you know it’s only my first year, I haven’t even managed to write anything let alone publish it.” You say, following her with your bags. She was leading you up to the guest room. Well, technically, it was your room. You had never really accepted that.

“Oh, did you notice the Hargroves house is for sale?” She whispers out like an unspeakable secret, and you dump your bags on the floor.

“Yeah, I saw.” You try to remain emotionless, rolling your shoulder until the usual ache faded. You were used to it now, the muscles flaring up every now and then.

“Apparently- now, you didn’t hear it from me…” She starts to lean in and you suppress a smile. Your grandmother, the gossiper. “Apparently, the husband just took off.”

“What?” You suddenly gain interest, frowning.

“Oh, yeah. The end of last summer.” She nods knowingly. “Must have been hard for them after their son died. It was a tragedy. And that poor girl… Andrea down the road told me she and the mother were forced to move into the trailer park down by Kerley. Not fit for a child, if you ask me.”

“They obviously couldn’t afford anywhere else.” You say, mostly to yourself, and Gran simply hums in agreement.

“Oh, which reminds me, Melanie, the one with the bird nest hair, she…”

She begins rambling once again about the neighbourhood, obviously pleased to have her granddaughter back so she can share the gossip. You listened intently, nodding when you needed to, offering your own remarks when prompted. You loved your Gran. The thought of her being alone in this house affected you more than you realise.

The real reason you were back wasn’t because you had missed Hawkins. In fact, you were set on your Spring Break exploring Stanford and all it had to offer. But about two months ago, your grandad was omitted to the hospital and a week later, he was no longer with you. Your Gran had shared how his health had been deteriorating for a while now, that they had expected it sooner or later. So, in the end, it wasn’t a surprise. It didn’t make it any less sad.

“Should I be expecting guests for dinner?” She asks and you blink, frowning.

“Guests?”

“Your friends.” She reiterates, already busying her hands by pulling out your already folded clothes from your suitcase and refolding them how she liked it. “I assume everyone will be anxious to see you. It’s been eight months, hasn’t it?”

“Uh…” You purse your lips, shrugging. “I don’t know, I thought it could just be the two of us tonight.”

Gran gently places down a sweater and eyes you suspiciously. “So, you’ll be seeing them tomorrow?”

“Maybe.” You give off the first vague answer in your head, fiddling with the sleeves of your jacket and sitting down on the plush bedding behind you.

“Hm.” She sounds, sliding shut the first drawer before she silently walks around the bed and sits beside you. “You won’t be seeing them, will you?”

It wasn’t a question. You lift your eyes to meet hers and sigh.

“We aren’t as close as we were before, Gran. It’s… complicated.” You decide and she takes your hand in hers.

“You’ve known them since you were just a little sprout.” She ruffles your hair and you cringe, laughing and batting her hand away. “I’m sure whatever happened can’t be so complicated that you can’t… I don’t know, catch up over coffee? Or whatever you kids are doing these days.”

“I wish it was like that.” You say, and you meant it. After a moment, she seems to understand that you didn’t want to continue this particular conversation and she stands, brushing her outfit back into simple perfection.

“Well, sandwiches, anyone?” She offers and you grin, nodding.

The day before you left for Stanford, you were contemplating whether or not it was the right choice. Gran was right, you have known them since you were a kid. But last summer changed all of that. You weren’t sure you could see their faces ever again.

So, rather than try and find them, you decided to spend the next day unpacking. You’d be here for a month so it made sense to have everything neat and tidy. It was just until the funeral, and then you’d be back at college and studying away any memory of Hawkins being your home. Because it wasn’t. Not anymore.

You can hear the distant ring of the phone echoing up the stairs, continuing to pull out your books. You might as well be caught up with your classes if you were going to spend all your time inside.

“Y/n!” Gran calls up and you push away from the desk to lean over the banister.

“Yeah?” You ask as she stares up at you, the phone in her left hand while the right covered the receiver.

“It’s your friend.” She says with a small smile and your face drops into a frown. “She says it’s urgent.”

“Uh…” You shake your head. Who would be calling you? “Yeah, I’ll be down in a sec.”

Gran nods and relays the information, setting the phone on the side table and disappearing back into the kitchen.

Your footsteps were wary as you descend the staircase, eyes set on the white object beside one of your grandmother’s vases. There was a hauntingly familiar rush of adrenaline coursing through your body, one you hadn’t felt in a long time. Once you reach the table, you shift your focus to the photo frame. It was small, a collected memory from a few years ago now. You were stood there smiling, the camera capturing you in pleasant surprise when a brunette girl behind you had jumped onto your back. It made your eyes sting, and you knew you had to make the decision to answer the call.

Hesitantly picking up the phone, you hold it to your ear and close your eyes.

“Hello?”

“Y/n?” Nancy’s voice blares through and your eyes snap back open.

Barrels of apologies and excuses spewed from her lips and you stand in silent shock, clutching the receiver a little too tight. She could only be calling for one reason. You had known it before you had even answered the phone.

Something was happening in Hawkins. Again. And if Nancy was calling for help, then she truly needed it.

And you’d never let her down.

“Have we met before?” You ask, studying the girl stood next to you.

The walls of the archive were surprisingly bright, shining an iridescent hue on her dark blonde locks. Her blue eyes were blinking back at you, pink lips stuck in a soft pucker of indecision. She was pretty. Really pretty. And at the same time she looked effortlessly cool, a jacket you wished you own. Something about her felt familiar to you, drawing you in.

Then a pang of guilt hits you and you force your concentration on waiting for her answer.

Robin felt weak. Who were you? It was taking everything in her to open her mouth and speak which, as literally everyone knew, was incredibly unlike her.

“I don’t think so.” Robin finally breathes out. There was softness in the way you spoke to her too, calming her nerves. Those strange waves of anxiety were being taken with the tide like you were her lighthouse in the stormy sea of her mind.

“Oh.” You scrunch your face with a smile. “Well, it’s nice to meet you.”

She was surprised to see you put out your hand but she willingly shakes it anyway, smiling back.

When you pull away, Robin seems a little more comfortable, coming closer to peer down at your old project folder, reading along with Nancy. You tried not to stare, busying your eyes with your own work in Nancy’s hands.

“Anything… juicy over there?” Robin asks Nancy and the girl throws her a tight lipped smile.

“Nothing new yet.” She responds and you notice the strain in her voice. She adopted it any time she was struggling to enjoy somebody’s presence.

“Victor seemed like a normal guy. Dead family, missing eyes, took a plea deal, sent to Pennhurst. Blah, blah, blah, blah.” Robin utters as she skims over the page below, slowly raising her head to look at Nancy. “What are we looking for exactly?”

Nancy doesn’t respond and continues flicking through the pages, making Robin’s eyes widen.

“Nance?” She tries again and you frown.

“She’s focused.” You offer, smiling. “She zones in so much that she zones out sometimes.”

“Right.” She nods slowly, still staring at her. “Um, so are we, uh… looking for any mentions of dark wizards or alternate dimensions? Things in that vein?”

You remember something and open your mouth to speak before Nancy interrupts with a huff.

“I don’t know, okay?” She sighs loudly, leaning against the desk and meeting Robin’s eyes. “It’s starting to seem like this was just a big waste of time. And you’re obviously bored so why don’t you just call Steve? I’m sure he’ll come pick you up. And I mean, I’m not really in danger here, so…”

With that, she walks away from the table and grabs another folder you had brought, furiously flipping through as she travels down a different staircase to the filing room. Your eyebrows raise.

“Woah.” You simply say, noticing Robin’s frown. “She’s, uh… hell, I don’t even know. Nance gets ultra focused when she thinks she has a lead on something and, well… she doesn’t like to get it wrong. Which is understandable.”

“So, she acts like this with other people?” She asks and you tighten your lips.

“Um…”

“Okay, that’s a no.” Robin groans, dragging her hands down her face. “I’m trying, I really am, I just struggle with whatever the hell bonding is meant to be, I mean me and Steve literally only bonded because we were both getting tortured and thought we would die. Which, no, not an ideal way to start a friendship but you know what, it’s better than whatever the hell this is.”

“You were at Starcourt?” You frown and she looks back at you, eyes wide like a deer in headlights. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have brought that up-”

“No, no, it’s okay.” She waves her hands, “I, um… no one really mentions it anymore. Unless it’s the news and they’re pretending like it was a-”

“Fire, yeah. I heard.” You say, staring at the stairs Nancy descended. “How did all of this start?”

“Excuse me?” She blinks and you turn your attention back to her.

“This… Vecna, was it? How did it start?” You repeat, shaking your head. “Nancy could only tell me so much over the phone so I’m a little behind.”

“A girl was found dead in the trailer park.” Robin relays, gulping. “Chrissy Cunningham? She’s a cheerleader. Was. They found her with all her bones snapped and her eyes were… gone. They think Eddie Munson did it-”

“Eddie?” You gasp, and Robin looks surprised. “No, Eddie wouldn’t do that-”

“We know. Trust me.” She says hurriedly, “He told us everything that happened. Apparently she was floating in the air and her bones were snapping- it’s a really gruesome story but the same thing, like, just happened to Fred and we need to figure out who this Vecna is before someone else gets hurt.”

“Okay.” You breathe and she raises her brow.

“Okay? I just unloaded a dump of hell onto you, and it’s okay?” She sounded intrigued and you shrug.

“The last few years have been… weird. To the point where weird sounds normal now.” You say, a soft frown on your features.

Robin wasn’t entirely sure where you fit into all of this. Sure, you had information they needed, you’ve been a part of their group for some time, you made sense. What she was struggling to understand is why you were here now. And why you weren’t here before.

“How’d you meet everyone?” You ask before she can. Any thought she had of questioning your arrival was cleverly misplaced. For the moment.

“I worked with Steve at Scoops Ahoy last year.” Robin nods and you frown.

“But I never…” You start before your eyes widen, mouth curling into a smile. “Oh my god, yes! I do remember you!”

“You do?” Robin tries to comb back through her memories.

“Yeah, Max dragged me there maybe… a week after it opened? She was telling me about Steve’s little sailor outfit and of course, I didn’t believe her, so she had to show me proof.” You giggle to yourself, meeting her eyes. “I remember you were taking a break outside, Max introduced us. Well, kind of. She never got to my name before Steve arrived with that stupid frown on his face.”

“I don’t remember that.” She frowns and you bite your lip, shoving your hands into your jacket pockets. “Sorry, I don’t mean that in like, a mean girl way. I mean, my memory is apparently broken because I’m very sure I would have remembered you. Not in a weird way, either, like- I just think you make an impression on people- a good one. Not a bad one.”

“It’s okay.” You laugh and she shakes her head enough to make her bangs sway in her embarrassment. “I looked a lot different then. And I was, like, super shy. I was probably hiding my face or something.”

“Hold on.” She blinks with a smirk. “You’re the girl? Like, the girl?”

“Am I meant to know what that means?” You squint your eyes.

Robin simply laughs to herself until she clocks your confusion. “No, I… Max did bring someone in for, like, one of our first ever shifts together. I remember because when they left, Steve looked like some kicked puppy and I couldn’t work with him and that stupid frown so I made him tell me what was bothering him. Apparently, the girl that left was the girl he couldn’t get in high school and it ‘haunts’ him. It’s so stupid.”

You go quiet and her eyes widen.

“Oh god.” She covers her mouth. “Did I talk too much again? God, I’m sorry- I literally can’t control my mouth.”

“No, you’re right.” You say, shaking your head. “Steve… he and I don’t really get along. Opposite ends of the high school popularity pool until I won this debate contest and suddenly everyone wanted to be my friend. I didn’t think it was that big of a deal, but suddenly I was on Steve’s radar and, well, you know the rest.”

“You can do better.” She simply nods and you raise your eyebrow at her remark. “What? Oh, he’s amazing now. Like, a genuine gentleman kind of guy, but King Steve? Whew, that boy needed a leash or something.”

“You guys are pretty close, huh?” You ask and she smiles.

“Yeah, he’s my best…” She begins before her face drops. Oh.

“What?” You ask when she starts walking away.

“I know why!” She exclaims before turning her heel and marching down those steps to Nancy, finding her sorting through the filing cabinet.

If Nancy heard her, she didn’t acknowledge it. Robin felt so stupid. It had been a while since she’d been a part of ‘girl world’ or, more specifically, ‘girl-code world’. The thought of there being any tension hadn’t even crossed her mind before.

“You do know that Steve and I are, like, totally not a thing, right?” Robin asks breathlessly, leaning against the wooden banister.

“What?” Nancy frowns, shaking her head and turning to look over her shoulder.

“So I figure that you and Jonathan are still going strong ‘cause you guys are going to college together, and you’re like one of those unstoppable power couples, but I… I just… I wanted to make sure that you knew that Steve and I are just friends. Like, platonic with a capital P.”

Nancy’s response in underwhelming at best, a tight lipped smile and Robin almost groans in frustration. She can hear your sneakers steadily descend the stairs and she turns back.

“Just in case that’s adding any tension between us.” She expresses to Nancy and you frown at the interaction.

“It wasn’t.” Nancy replies and Robin sighs.

“Uh…” You start to say, both pairs of eyes immediately looking at you. “Sorry to, um, interrupt. I have stuff I need to do…”

“Right.” Nancy blinks apologetically, looking back at the folder in her hands. “I’m so sorry, I really thought I was going to find something. I… I didn’t want to drag you into this, really, it’s just-”

“Hawkins.” You finish her sentence, stepping off the final stair and leaning against the banister. “Yeah, I know.”

“Holy shit.” Robin gasps, suddenly grabbing the folder out of Nancy’s hands despite her silent protest. “Is that from The Weekly Watcher?”

She points to a specific part of one of the tabs and you move to peer over her shoulder, nodding.

“Don’t they write about, like, Bigfoot and UFOs?” Nancy scoffs, already dismissing the idea.

“First of all, UFOs are absolutely real. Bigfoot I’m still on the fence about.” She comments and you hum agreement. “But may I remind you we are looking for information on dark wizards? If someone’s gonna write about that, it’s gonna be these weirdos.”

“She’s not wrong.” You add and Nancy’s eyebrows raise in surprise. “Yeah, there’s a whole article about Victor Creel. He claimed that a vengeful demon killed his family. Obviously I only added a reference for context, I never actually believed it. You know, before…”

You vaguely gesture the space around you and Robin flips the page over.

“According to several insiders, Victor believed his house was haunted by an ancient demon.” Robin read aloud, and you could feel the goosebumps prickle along your skin. “Victor allegedly hired a priest to exorcise the demon from his home- pretty novel for the 50s, Exorcistwasn’t even out yet.”

“Keep- keep going.” Nancy insisted and Robin frowns.

“That’s all that’s here.” She says and Nancy looks at you.

“He claimed that the exorcism failed.” You recall, staring at the cut out photo of the Creel Family. “He said it angered the demon. It murdered his family, removing their eyes.”

“Did it say why he wasn’t killed?” Robin questions.

“Victor believed he was spared as a punishment.” You say with a twist in your stomach. His whole family died. He was all alone.

“Yeah, that’s pretty convenient for Victor.” Nancy mumbles and Robin frowns.

“Yeah, or super inconvenient.” She challenges, her eyes looking at yours for support. You simply nod, feeling sick. “Victor was declared legally insane by the court, right? Well, what if this is why? I mean, it sounds pretty insane, it just didn’t go public because-”

“The plea bargain.” Nancy jumps in, and you can see her trying to slot all the pieces together, “The records were sealed.”

“What if a demon did invade Victor’s home.” Robin glances between you both. “It’s just, this demon wasn’t any old demon.”

“It was Vecna.” Nancy finishes, and you immediately start shaking your head.

“Okay, you guys got everything you need?” You quickly rush out, sorting the folder around so it would shut. “Actually, you know what, you guys can just keep that, I need to-”

“You’re leaving?” Nancy frowns, following you as you jog back up the stairs and to where you had dumped your bag before. Robin hurriedly grabbed your folder and followed suit.

“Yeah, I told you, I have stuff to do.” You mutter an excuse, slipping your bag over your shoulder.

“But what about-”

“No, Nance.” You suddenly say, much stricter than you intended it to be. You pause your steps, taking a deep breath to look her in the eye. “I hate that there’s something new terrorising Hawkins. And I’m sorry you have to deal with it. I am. But that’s your choice. I can’t do this again.”

Robin stood there, clutching your folder to her chest. Nancy was struggling with her words, and you didn’t look like you were going to stick around long enough to hear them.

“We need you.” Robin blurts and you look at her, frowning. “I’m sorry, but we do. You know more about this case than any of us, you dedicated, what, a whole month? Maybe more? To learn about the Creel House, about the murders. You have information we can’t possible find because Hawkins doesn’t like to keep around its records of murder, and- and Nancy said you were great at this detective stuff which basically means you know what we need to do next.”

Rather than respond, you start weighing your options. The best decision you ever made was leaving all of this behind. Stanford had everything you wanted; hope. Anytime you decided to help them, it was always your life you were risking. That they were risking. Why would this time be any different?

“I really hope you win this.” You finally say, offering half a smile before you push through those doors and don’t look back, disappearing into the darkening shadows outside.

“Damn it.” Nancy curses, resting a hand on her hip and the other on a table.

“What happened between you guys?” Robin asks into the silence and Nancy looks up.

“What do you-”

“I don’t want a vague answer.” She says, still clutching onto the folder pressed against her chest. “She looked terrified. Which, yeah, it makes a lot of sense under normal circumstances. But this was more like PTSD kind of terrified. What the hell happened last year that no one’s telling me?”

The silence left Robin in the dark, Nancy’s features pouring over in restrained emotion.

By the time you had dug out your keys with trembling hands, you could feel the prickling of tears threaten to spill at any moment. They had no right to ask that of you. Especially not Nancy. She was there last year, she knows why you left. And yet again, none of them were listening to you.

You sat in your grandad’s old armchair for about an hour, a book resting on your lap but it remained untouched. It would just be another distraction, another reason to pretend like nothing was wrong. To stop yourself from remembering, feeling.

It’s why you went to Stanford, really. You didn’t care about journalism like you used to. But the work load was almost unbearable, which meant that every waking moment would need to be dedicated to studying. If you didn’t occupy your mind, you’d have to relive last year.

“Hi, sweetie.” Gran says as she enters the room, a shopping bag in one hand. You hadn’t even heard her key in the door. “Did you see your friends?”

“Yeah.” You clear your throat, setting aside the book and leaning forward.

“What did you kids get up to?” She asks before quickly disappearing into the kitchen to set down her groceries. When she returns, you have your head in your hands.

You can feel her fingers gently pry away your hands as she takes the chair opposite you, smiling like she already knew what was going through your head. Looking at her, the way her eyes were glazing over, you felt so selfish. You had left to escape everything that happened last year, and you had left her for months to deal with it all alone. Here you were, wallowing in self pity because your friends hadn’t been there for you when you needed them, and it turns out you’re doing the exact same thing to her.

“I’m so sorry.” You say, wiping away the tear that trickles down your cheek. “I should have stayed with you and Grandad.”

“What?” She frowns lightly, shaking her head. “Darling, no. All we ever wanted for you was to get out into the world, find something that made you happy.”

“But I’m not happy.” You express, catching a sob that threatened to escape. “I just wanted to get away, get out of Hawkins. I wasn’t even thinking about it, I- I just couldn’t…”

Her hand suddenly finds your own, squeezing it tight.

“It’s okay.” She says and you lift your head up. She continued smiling, but it was much sadder now. “No one can expect you to move on from what happened last year as quick as that.”

“And what if I never move on?”

“It’s not about moving on.” She smiles. “It’s about acceptance. It’s about holding onto the memory because you cherish it, not because you are haunted by it.”

The clock in the distance could be heard counting the seconds as you sit there in silence. She was right, as per usual. You weren’t letting yourself feel. You should be embracing the fact that you still had her. Even with all Hawkins has been through, you still had her.

Your heart pangs with panic. She was still here.

“I should be getting to bed-”

“Come with me.” You offer suddenly and she raises her eyebrows.

“To Stanford?” She says as if it were absurd.

“I’m serious. Let’s move away, start fresh. We’ll find somewhere new, Gran. Please.” You beg and she offers a smile, capturing your hand by placing another on top.

“Hawkins is my home. It always has been. I was born here, I met the love of my life here. I watched my little one grow up and, when he had little ones of their own, I watched them grow up too. This is where my family is. I… I can’t leave.”

“No, don’t worry, I’ll get it.” You say, smiling. “You should get some rest.”

Your heart wrenches. If only she knew what you did. About what really happens in Hawkins, what lurks there in the dark. She can’t stay here, not when you know it isn’t safe. Not when she’s all you have left.

Three knocks echo out from the front door, and Gran shifts in her seat, quickly glancing at the clock. Who would be here at this hour?

“Thank you.” She stands with you, squeezing your hand as she dropped it. “Try and get some rest.”

You wait until she’s heading up the stairs and out of earshot before you rush to the door, gently brushing aside the small curtain and frowning at the silhouette. It wasn’t who you had expected.

The door is open barely four inches before she starts talking at you, ring-donned hands clasped together.

“Look, I know we’ve literally just met. And I probably- no, I definitely don’t have the right to ask you to stay with us, but we’re basically alone right now. Half of us are in California, we don’t have any connections in the sheriff’s department anymore. Everyone who would know what to do is gone, and you’re kinda the only person left who can help us. I get so much happened to you last year and I- I can’t imagine what you’re going through, but if there’s even a tiny part of you that wants to do this, then please listen to it. Please.”

Robin didn’t know what she was expecting when she left the school. Her feet had taken her further than her mind was planning, but she knew she had to find you. Max was in trouble, and they were all way in over their heads to not have help. Nancy refused to bother you any further, and she understood, she really did, but this wasn’t a normal circumstance. This was bigger than all of them, bigger than everyone.

“Robin?” You say, brows scrunched together in surprise. She thins her lips.

“Sorry to just blurt that all out, but I didn’t know if you were just gonna slam the door on me- or maybe I’d forget what I wanted to say.” She explained, feeling the embarrassment creeping up her cheeks. She didn’t want to say the wrong thing to you. “Max is in trouble.”

“What?” You sobered at the thought, leaning closer to her. Then, in a moment of split decision, you glance back up the stairs before stepping outside and closing the door behind you. “What happened?”

“We found a connection between all the victims.” Robin tries to explain, and you noticed how expressive she was with her hands. “Basically, Max has the same symptoms as the rest of them, and she’s, like, 100% sure she’s next of Vecna’s kill list.”

“Is she okay?” You ask, and Robin can see the desperation behind your eyes.

“Yeah. Shaken up, but she’s fine. For now.” She clears her throat, a pleading look as she stares at you. “We need to find Vecna as fast as we possibly can before he can get to her. I… I know about what happened last year. About your dad.”

You seem taken aback by her knowledge, eyes darting down to your shoes.

“I don’t blame you for wanting to leave all of this behind.” She sympathises, and she let herself be much calmer than she felt. “But I’m asking you if you’ll help us.”

Your heart was aching as you wipe your sweaty palms against your jeans, barely even feeling the cold rush of wind hitting your bare arms. You had meant what you said earlier; you couldn’t do this again. It took everything in you to move out of Hawkins, go to college and live a life the person you loved the most couldn’t do anymore.

But you were currently stood in front of a door. And behind that door, was the last person you had left, and she wasn’t planning on leaving her home any time soon. As it turned out, fleeing wasn’t an option for everyone else.

“I’ll do it.”

Robin blinks, studying you for any ounce of uncertainty. You looked deadly serious.

Maybe, just maybe, with you by their side, they were taking down Vecna after all.

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