#water proof phone pouch

[pricklenettle]

Parent's Ghost

This is my fic for @ecto-implosion! I wrote it based on the art by the talented @jackalspine

The little ectoblobs are made of the emotional residue of the creatures around them like dust bunnies. The Fenton house is full of both ectoplasm and emotional residue. So what happens after Danny is injured by his parents?

WC: 4,795

AO3 link

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Danny walked along the power lines. Not on the ground, that was for people who liked getting doused with rain water everytime a car came by. It was way cooler strolling along, way above the headlights cutting blindly through the splintery drizzle that made this evening’s twilight so dim. Danny adroitly floated around a buzzing insulator that snapped testilly at every rain drop. He continued his stroll, placing his feet just a finger’s breadth above the black wire.

He supposed he should be grateful for the drizzle, and the quiet evening that was proof of the apparent absence of ghosts to hunt. But really, he was bored. Bored, and his brain was starting to prickle with dread as calculus equations and handwritten paragraphs echoed sinisterly in the back of his mind. The image of the homework he’d left piled in his room loomed closer over the horizon. On top was the English paper Lancer had assigned him. 

He’d written two sentences for the paper’s intro before flying out his window to patrol. So far it was disappointing him. He’d found a wisp of a ghost bear rooting around in the Nasty Burger dumpster and an old granny who wasn’t bothering anybody except the park’s population of stray cats. It was getting uncomfortably more obvious that tonight his biggest responsibility was going to be his homework. 

Danny wrinkled his face. Figures, the one night he wanted a distraction, Amity decided it was time for peaceful quiet. 

Even though he knew he should be heading home he just kept walking along the wire. He folded his arms behind his head and kept an eye upward, hoping the clouds would break up. 

It was just on the edge of too cold. The drops that hit his shoulders and head were like needling icy fingers, prodding him to go home and take cover inside six warm walls. Leave the world to the rain to whom it belonged. He stuck his tongue out at the sky and pulled his phone out of his belt pouch. 

The cracked screen pulsed unhappily at him with aberrant colors. He tilted it forward, trying to shield it from the beads of water that rolled off it with bent light. There were no new messages from Sam, but Tucker was asking about that English assignment. Danny groaned and scrubbed his fingers through his hair in frustration. He knew what he should be doing, the universe knew what he should be doing, he’d cut off his toes and feed it to the resident ghost cats before he wrote one more word tonight. He locked his ankles together, drifting a little higher over the powerline while he texted back. 

“Hey, Ghost scum!” was his only warning before something exploded off to his left. The acid green light of ecto-based ammunition froze the rain in the air in a single flash. It competed and instantly won against the dim sky, lighting up the undersides of tree limbs and throwing everything into a sharp lime light. 

Danny automatically threw his hands over his face, then flew up, searching the ground through the spots in his vision for the interrupters. 

“Damn it, Mads, I missed him again,” came the only slightly quieter voice. Danny’s grin spread sharply when he spotted his mom and dad crouched behind some bushes. 

He floated tauntingly lower. “Hey, I was walking there. How’d you like it if I threw missiles at you when you were on an evening stroll?”

“I’d say you were showing off your true nature, ghost,” Jack cried, pointing a finger at him. The shiny black rubber of his gloves reflected the yellow globe of the streetlight that hummed, lonely in the rain. The single illumination of the deserted road. “An evil, mindless blob of ectoplasmic residue that’s grown too comfortable in the mortal plane.”

Danny hovered in place, daring on whatever happened next. “At least I’d be able to hit you, in that way I am pretty good.”

Maddy was scrambling to quickly reload the gun. It looked like pretty heavy artillery. It might be strong enough to blow him to pieces if the spots still dancing in his vision were anything to believe. Of course, it would have to hit him first. Lucky for him, it looked like it was going to take Maddy a while, and Danny had plenty of time to antagonize his parents. He floated lower, leaning back in the air and crossing his legs. “Don’t you two have somewhere better to be than out in the rain following an innocent ghost around?”

“No such thing,” Maddy hissed, still fighting over the guts of the big gun. 

“Menace to society you mean,” Jack shouted up.

Danny stuck his tongue out at them and raised his arms with limp wrists like the classic ghost. “Boo.”

“You won’t be saying boo when my wife reloads and splatters your ectoplasm– er,”

Maddy threw down her new rocket launcher in disgust. 

“No good, Mad’s?”

Danny looked on in utter delight as Maddie began riffling through the duffle bag at their feet. “I can’t get the damn thing to work with this rain.”

“My bad, Honey. In mark two, I’ll prioritize simplification and ease of use.”

“You can’t have everything in one gun, dear, your design is wonderful just as it is. Only a little tweaking I think.” Danny gagged overtop of them before they could get really sappy. They whipped back around, on guard again. Maddy stood up from the duffle bag this time with the net gun in her hands. She braced herself to fire. 

Danny sighed and shook his head. “You folks need to figure out when it’s time to pack up and save it for another day.” He accumulated a ball of ectoplasm between his fingers and lobbed it at Maddie’s feet. She dived to the side and came up on her knees. They locked eyes and she pulled the trigger. The net burst out with a puff of gunpowder. 

Danny flew to the side, but a corner of the net collided with his leg. The cords snapped around his boot, quickly tangling when he tried to shake it off. He grumbled, annoyed. But still, no problem. The cord was treated to be anti ghost so he couldn’t phase out, but he had a lot of energy humming in his chest that had gone unused all day long. He smiled grimly. So, they wanted to catch a ghost? This was going to be fun. He twisted around and propelled himself up above the treeline. Maddy yelped beneath him. He glanced back to see her feet were dragging in the ground and she was barely holding onto the gun over her head. He put on another burst of speed and her toes lifted off the ground. 

Jack leaped to grab it from her. He braced his feet and grunted with the strain of holding Danny earthward. She let him have it and ran back for the duffel bag. Danny wasn’t quite strong enough to lift Jack off his feet, not without phasing the big man partly out of the physical world. Danny soon found himself fighting just to stay in the air. 

Jack clung onto the rope doggedly. They both seemed pretty determined today to reel him in. No matter how he flew Jack was stubbornly holding on. As though he actually believed he and the phase-proof line could reassert the laws of gravity that Danny had gotten so used to ignoring. 

He was starting to feel a little too much like a toy kite for his liking. Careful to keep the line taut, he bent over his leg to tug at the tangled cords of the net. He was just starting to make progress, a pile of freed loops dropping to hang form his boot, when he heard a pop from below. An instant later a bolt screamed through his arm. He recoiled, grabbing his arm tight. 

The ectoplasm of his arm had been sheered away and hollowed out like a stick of butter in a microwave. Beads of ectoplasm rolled over the creases of his white gloves. 

Looked like Maddy had finally got the gun to work again.

“Hey,” he yelled down. “You missed my vital organs. For all the time you spend hunting me, I’d expect you’d at least be good at it!” He aimed down along the perfectly straight line drawn between him and his dad. As perfect as a math equation, from point a to point b. He didn’t even have to aim. 

Jack dropped backward, electric green smoldering in his orange jumpsuit. Danny buoyed up into the air, cord and gun and all. He would have gotten away then, and he was already thinking about what in hell he was going to write for his damned English paper. 

Maddy dropped the gun and leaped over Jack. She jumped for the cord before it could get away from her. Her fingers wrapped around the handle of the gun, jerking Danny back down. She’d pulled something out of her jumpsuit. Danny saw the flash of the Fenton Ghost Taser™ an instant before she pressed it against the taut cord. 

Danny cried out. His body instantly seized up, all his muscles vibrating, making his teeth chatter together. The searing pain that traced the path of the electricity came as a secondary thunder clap. He dropped out of the air. 

He hit the first branches like a second shock. Thousands of tiny twigs crackled under his descent. As he traveled lower he hit branches that bent, then broke. He caught a glimpse of the ground. All scattered with brown, lance shaped leaves. Then he hit.

***

“Ow,” he groaned, pushing himself up. He batted bits of dead leaves out of his hair and suit, making sure he was all still there. He felt like his parents had hit him with the earth like a wrecking ball. He looked up, staggering a little with the tilt in perspective, up through the hole he’d smashed through the perfectly nice canopy the tree had been working on for who knew how long. Maybe he’d been the wrecking ball. 

He had to sit down a moment, his entire body felt burned and achy from the taser. He fished one spikey piece of branch out of the side of his boot. He’d taken bigger hits and farther falls, but when he couldn’t catch himself the stupid part of him still expected to die everytime. He looked up again, ignoring the ringing in his head. He’d fallen into a damn thick patch of alders and bushes— honestly amazing he’d found any flat hard ground to hit at all.

The phase-proof cord— one end still tangled around his leg, wandered off into the underbrush. He could hear his parents thrashing around in the distance. 

Danny quickly shook off his distraction and jammed his fingers into the knotted mess around his leg. He worked and pulled at the strands, brow furrowed into determined concentration. If he turned human he could slip out in an instant, but he didn’t want to risk one of his parents spotting it through the bushes. He kept glancing up to check how close they’d gotten before returning to the net. Of all the things, why did he not keep a knife on him? His parents had made a ghost thermos and laser lipstick. Why not a Fenton Knife™?

Their crashing was getting closer. He stubbornly kept his head down, focused on his scrambling fingers and ignoring the loud sounds of Jack and Maddy following the anti-ghost cord right to him. He just needed to figure out where it had gotten tangled. A careless movement reminded him of the hole seared into his arm. Oh, ow. He’d almost forgotten about that. 

There, he’d found an edge. He freed it from a few misplaced cords, then twisted it, wrapped it back, passed it under his leg, and finally he could pull his leg free. He kicked the limp coil of net away and climbed to his feet. He could see patches of orange jumpsuit through the trees now. He gritted his teeth, pushing down the temper he could feel rearing up. They didn’t know— no. They didn’t care. He’d turned into a ghost under their noses, in their own workshop, and they’d never even noticed. 

He tested his arm with a hand. He still could barely feel it but he could already tell it was going to hurt when he got home and slipped back into his human skin. He winced when his fingers came away green. 

Danny stepped up into the air, flickering out of the visible spectrum.

***

The drizzle was still hesitant to turn into an actual rain when Danny floated outside his home. The neon sign buzzed faintly, briefly illuminating the drops that fell from the sky green, as though it was raining ectoplasm. 

Carefully, Danny pulled open his window and slipped inside. He let go of his invisibility and dropped heavily to the floor. A blanket he’d kicked off the bed bunched uncomfortably under his back and elbow, and his boot was chewing up the pages of a book he’d left open in the middle of the room, but right now he didn’t care. 

He stared up at his ceiling, at the sickly plastic of his glow-in-the-dark stars. It wasn’t dark enough yet for them to light up. The drizzle patted softly against the roof, like the Fenton building was a strange and unusual cat it didn’t quite know how to stroke. His arm ached dreadfully but he ignored it. A glancing thought reminded him of the English paper he’d sworn he’d finish tonight. He turned over, squeezing his fingers into his torn up arm. He scowled into the dark shadows that clung to the floor of his room. He’d do it tomorrow.

***

He came out of a dull fog with something nudging his leg. He hissed and kicked at it, then groaned. He was so sore from the electricity that had pulsed  through ever fiber of muscle he owned. He cracked an eye open. It was dark. Rain shadows mottled the dim light from the neon sign outside that the window cast onto the floor beside him. The constant buzz of rain on the roof made him realize he was still cold and damp. He curled tighter into himself, closing his eyes to try and go back to sleep. Well, it had decided to rain after all.

Another nudge against his leg made him open his eyes in annoyance. It was a tiny blob ghost, apparently small enough to get past his parents' sensors and definitely too small to cause real trouble. It sat in a ball by his foot, gazing him down with softly glowing red eyes. 

“Shoo,” he said crossly. “I’m trying to sleep.”

Instead of going away, it drifted up closer to his face. It was certainly brazen in the face of a much stronger ghost. Danny drew himself up into a half crouch, unwilling to let even this mindless blob catch him down and out. “You should get going, you don’t want my parents to see you hanging around.” 

Instead of listening to him, the blob rolled up to his hand. The surface of its ectoplasm rippled and then it plopped up a wet wad of bandages. 

“Eeew, that’s gross.” But it did make Danny think to look at his injured arm. He grimaced. That gun was seriously concentrated. His arm was still hollowed out and dripping with green slime. He’d been slowly leaking as he slept and it had left a dark, wet spot on his twisted blanket that gleamed dully in the low light. “Shoot.”

The small blob made a tiny murmuring chirp. He looked back down at it and it nudged his hand. He’d never met a blob ghost so friendly. The ones he occasionally spotted in the house seemed peaceable enough, but he never let them get close. They were like fruit flies, they just appeared where their sustenance was. Normally they coalesced after fights, drawn to the spilled ectoplasm like ramora to sharks. Or maybe they were created by it. Who knows. They were skittish, unfriendly, and prone to hurting pets. He didn’t really know how to react to this one trying to cuddle up to him.

When its insistent bumps got no reaction, the blob instead snagged his sleeve. It bobbed up in the air, tugging him to stand up. 

Suddenly there was another blob. It floated out from under his bed and tugged on his pant leg, seemingly for the same purpose. 

Bemused, Danny stood. The room tilted. For a moment he couldn’t move except to sway on his legs. He almost jumped out of his skin when a third blob ghost appeared over his shoulder. It settled as solidly as a blob could on its perch and hummed and chirped in his ear. Its firm press reminded him of when his dad would clap him on the shoulder, his big warm hand a steadying weight. 

The blob ghosts were still tugging on his clothes. So, Danny obeyed. He tottered tiredly toward his bed. He made the bed every day, but the blob ghosts must have been rifling through his room before they woke him up because all the blankets were half off. 

Irritated, he fell into bed. He sighed as his pillow recieved his head with a puff. His ssense of gravity became even looser as the pillow cradled his skull. He might have been floating as unmoored as he felt. How he’d missed it. Did it seem poofier today or was he just really happy to be in bed?

He shivered at the cold sheets and shifted to curl into a ball, but the blob ghost was still holding onto his sleeve. He lifted his head to show a threatening row of teeth, but he didn’t have the energy for much else. He flared the energy of his core. It had never failed to to send blobs darting away like frightened mice. These ones didn’t.

The big one that had sat on his shoulder floated through the air, a long trail of white bandage fluttering beneath it like a tail. Danny was starting to be amused. At least this bandage wasn’t already sopping with ectoplasm. 

The big blob hovered over the bed, edging the bandage closer to his wound. He didn’t know how to tell these things that you were supposed to disinfect stuff first. Whatever, at least it would stop him from soaking the mattress. He could deal with things properly tomorrow. In the morning when he felt less like a dead boy barely filling in his human skin. Yeah, whenever that happened. 

***

He’d figured out how to scare them off the night he’d been following the trail of a giant, mutant ghost snake. He’d been chasing it for most of the night and the snake had left it’s mark on him and a large chunk of Amity Park. He’d been pretty sure it was dead but he didn’t want that one coming back to life to bite him in the ass. Again. 

He’d found it in an old alleyway, its coils half hidden by mounds of trash. The huge snake had stopped moving. It was losing clarity fast and its scales were melting into the broken asphalt. The ambient ectoplasm its blood had added to the air made a glowing haze over the alley. It was also swarming with blobs. Like busy ants they flocked from one wound to the next, soaking it in like sugar water. 

Danny had taken a step back, just like anyone who turned over a log and found it crawling with maggots. Danny blinked at them, squinting with one eye crusted half shut from the fight and the other rubbery with exhaustion. The way the blobs swarmed over the ghost’s corpse before it had even bled away out of their physical world made shivers prickle all over his shoulders. Slowly he backed away. He’d confirmed the snake wouldn’t be a threat anymore, his job was done. 

He’d intended to leave the scene and creep away to finally go home, when his leg gave out and he slipped on the pavement. all the milling pairs of red eyes snapped to him. They hissed like a multi-tongued hoard of snakes. Automatically, Danny flared his core. He’d gritted his teeth, staring them down, thinking very hard about how much bigger and fiercer he was, how easy to squish them and fight them off his prey. The hand in front of him gained an unnatural edge, like a glowing afterimage. All the ghosts immediately fled, abandoning their immense feast.

After that he’d never had much trouble with the smaller ghosts. It didn’t make sense that these ones weren’t bothered about it. 

Danny took the bandage from the bigger blob and pinched it to his arm, intending to wind it around with his teeth. Instead, the three blob ghosts seized it from him, letting him hold it in place while they passed it back and forth around his arm. Danny didn’t have to do anything before he was looking at a tidily wrapped bandage. He wasn’t even seeping through them yet. 

“Thank you.” Uneasily he settled back onto his pillow, warily watching the blobs flit around like alien lights through half closed eyes.

The blob ghosts drifted like flotsam, their cool glow sliding over his freezing sheets to the glistening wood of his bedpost, then back again to bead on the dark wetness he’d spread on the floor and under his dry eyelids. His sight blurred and he realized again how tired he was, but now he’d been roused twice. He couldn’t relax with the huge, cold night huddling in the space of his bedroom. Especially not with the strange ghosts, mindless and helpful though they seemed to be.

The blobs didn’t seem to realize. They briefly floated down out of sight then reappeared holding up a blanket between them. As gently and softly as could be, they drew it over him. Two of them churred soothingly and patted the blanket around him as though they were trying to tuck him in. Danny wanted to laugh but instead he found himself sinking into his pillow, eyes blinking shut. After all, why shoo them off, he could defend himself from a couple of blobs. He yawned broadly. The third blob ghost drifted down to alight on his forehead, unexpectedly similar to the softness of a cool hand against a fever. Danny sighed and let it stay there. He already felt warmth spreading over him from the blankets, he was afraid to move or it would go away. 

The other blob ghosts settled onto his blanket around his legs. Their light dimmed as though they were going to sleep. He finally relaxed enough for the transformation to slip over his head and down his legs. He shivered furiously for a moment, like the first steps out of a cold pool where he’d acclimated to a chill sort-of-comfort and then into biting wind. Before long real warmth stole over him. 

The blob resting on his forehead began to hum. Even through his sleep drenched brain he recognised it. It was a silly song that his parents had liked and turned into a lullaby, just like every parent does. Whenever this one came onto the radio Danny was jolted back to when he was a kid and soothed into a warm bed on a close and sleepy evening. When he was a kid he’d practically vibrated with too much energy. When he couldn’t sleep Maddie would hold him wrapped in a blanket in her lap, singing that song and rocking back and forth, sometimes flubbing and making up her own words.

They needed the lullaby a lot when he was a kid. Some nights it was the only way to keep him in bed. It was a song for a too long road trip when he’d sent the entire car into seismic shifts from his carseat while the windshield wipers worked madly and Jazz was yelling at him for kicking her seat. The song was for a hospital visit where the cold room and unfamiliar walls was more disturbing than the pain in his broken arm. In the past it had never failed to lull him to sleep.

Somehow he hadn’t heard it in a long time. He didn’t miss it, it was just one of those things you naturally left behind as time passed. He wasn’t a baby anymore and Maddie didn’t need to sing it to get him to shut up for five seconds. He didn’t even remember the funny words she’d made up for it. His eyes drifted closed as he tried to mumble them and somehow dredge them up from deep in his mind. He’d almost completely forgotten it. He wondered where this blob had picked it up.

All the wondering he could do ran away from him quickly. His consciousness spun out like a ball of yarn leading him to sleep. The tune dropped him back into those years of falling asleep with his mom’s cheek next to his and finally his brain stopped thinking and let him drift off into deep dreamless sleep.

***

Jack and Maddie came home in the stillness of the hour between night and morning. It had stopped raining but they were drenched and stuck all over with orange pineneedles and other forest detritus. They were tired and trudged heavily through the door, not wanting to wake anyone up. There were twigs and leaves in Jack’s hair and a spray of thorns caught in the weave of Maddie’s suit. She smiled working it free but there was no real mirth behind it. Just tiredness.

They’d found no ghost in their net. But they’d been so sure a ghost couldn’t escape it, and a hit from Maddie’s new gun, on top of a shock from the Fenton Taser™ without being seriously damaged and power drained. So they’d combed the area again. They’d found not a sign of the ghost. They supposed that they’d never know until the next dogfight if that one had survived or had dissolved into whatever aether the scraps of human consciousness were bound for. 

They dumped their tangled and scraped up gear in a pile. Neither of them said anything. Without a word they left it there and took the stairs. Jack looked at the back of his wife’s neck. He might not be good at reading people but he’d known her long enough. All these ghosts were fascinating, they’d never had more work. But the rest of Amity didn’t exactly agree with their glee. Some nights the sheer amount of ghostly activity was overwhelming. And they were strong enough to be actually capable of real property damage! Who knew what else. The sooner they could stuff these spooks back where they came from the better. But this wasn’t what was bothering Maddy. Jack knew the problem that was puzzling her now was Danny. It was frustrating. Life would be so much easier if people could just say what they were thinking.

If only he could figure out the problem. 

Again, without words, they stopped in front of Danny’s door. Dread was boiling in Maddie’s stomach, there’d been so many nights she’d known he’d snuck out. Some nights he just never came home. Jack’s large arm reached past her to press against the door. He eased it open with both hands, For once he payed special attention to not bump anything thoughtlessly. Danny’s room was dark, the only light inside came from the warm stripes that escaped from the hallway lamp around their legs and the dim stick on stars that littered the ceiling. It was messy, as usual. Leaves of homework were layered over his desk and books lay open all over the floor. Drifts of clothes made sedimentary layers in the corners of the room. Jack couldn’t help his well of fondness at the sight. Danny was a still form on the bed. Silent asleep, as he should be. 

Jack sniffed, was the ectoplasm smell stronger here? He glanced around briefly; bed, desk, floor— then shrugged. It was everywhere in the house. It was their fault really, always mixing work and family life.  

Jack looked down and realized neither of them had pushed one toe over the carpet line into his room. It was just as good as a wall. 

Maddie’s mouth worked as though she was chewing over a mouthful of words that needed to be said, no matter how silently. She finally whispered. “Good night, Danny.”

And then they left as carefully as they had come. 

[faggotmox]

title: violation rating: explicit pairing: Wheeler Yuta/Jon Moxley/Claudio Castagnoli, background Yuta/Mox/Claudio/Bryan/Regal word count: 14,358 warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Drugging, Psychological Torture, Anal Sex, piss 'play' (more maybe listed on ao3), Dead Dove Don't Eat notes: shout out to sarah for helping proof this :D summary: Is it a nightmare or reality Yuta experiences post All Out? Stress can have a profound impact on a person. series: the ancient art of quiet rape, part one

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

Being a pro-wrestler meant spending a good amount of time in hospital waiting rooms. Either waiting for yourself or friends, just waiting. There was no one else here but Yuta, and the strangers in need of help. No one else was here by Bryan’s side. Just Yuta and the wait.

Nurses had informed Yuta that it would be awhile before“they would have any information they could share with him. There had to be a lot of tests and exams done because of the violent nature of the attack, as well as Bryan’s medical history. One of the PAs was nice enough to bring their bags to the hospital since they were, for good reason, left at the stadium

After seeing Yuta trying to wrangle so many bags the same nurse came back asking if she could store some of his things in the nurse’s locker room for him. All he needed was his water bottle and backpack. Once everything else was put away he told her he needed to take a walk to clear his head, but gave her his phone number so she could call him as soon as anything became known.

Yuta made his way outside, breathing in the smoggy air of Chicago. While walking Yuta realized he was picking at the embroidered letters on the left breast of his jacket. The tiny white threads fraying under his fingers. The name of his club, part of his life and identity for years. He didn’t let himself think about it, he couldn’t yet.

On the third pass around the hospital campus Yuta realized he should probably head back. The cool air had chilled him. There hadn’t been any call yet, but he was getting tired. At least he could sort of sleep in the hospital chairs. The idea of going back in filled the young man with anxiety so he stopped on a bench for a moment, trying to gather himself.

The water bottle in the backpack’s side pouch probably didn't have much left in it. The heavy steel felt nice in Yuta’s hands, real and solid. The edges of the National Park sticker he slapped on there were coming up. As he examined the bottle, Yuta found that the edges of the Swiss flag sticker were still perfect, and the same for the skull sticker at the bottom.

Why had he noticed that?

Yuta shook the thoughts out of his head and opened the bottle. He took a few big gulps, finding more water than he thought. Once he had his fill, Yuta mustered the courage to get up. There was a salty taste in his mouth so he took a few more sips off the bottle only to find that it was the source of the salty taste.

“I don’t remember putting an electrolyte pack in this…” Yuta muttered to himself as he got going.

A rustling noise made Yuta look up sharply, glancing around for the source. Even though the ER was busy, it was a pretty quiet night. No one else was walking around. The only sign of other people were the green lit security cars going by in rounds. The feeling of being watched surfaced in Yuta’s nervous system, something that he couldn’t quite shake.

Instead of figuring it out he just went for the first hospital entrance. It wasn’t the ER, and Yuta wasn’t sure the door was even supposed to be unlocked. It was though, the glass slightly ajar, so he went through it and into the hallway.

“Oh, thank Christ…” Yuta muttered as he saw the ER at the other end of the hallway. “This must be the other way in.”

All of a sudden Yuta was hit with a wave of drowsiness and nausea. The feeling came out of nowhere. For a moment he decided to lean on the wall because everything felt like he was on a boat. Something else came forward though, pushing through the nausea. For the first time since the attack the young man felt…not terrified or anxious.

Slowly Yuta started to relax down the wall, finding his home on the floor. The nausea ebbed away until the wrestler was just drowsy and relaxed, his eyes half closed as he rode out whatever wave of calm came over him.

Down the hallway Yuta could see people going about their work. No one knew he was back here. He knew that something shouldn’t be sitting right, or maybe he should be scared. But he wasn’t. In fact he felt pretty good. Aside from the short bursts of nausea which were getting further apart.

For some reason Yuta couldn’t stop watching the quick crossing of people passing the end of the hall. Without thinking too much about it, he raised the water bottle to his lips. Before much could get into his mouth someone was pulling it out of his hands, very soft and gentle.

“I think that’s enough of that, yes?” Claudio was suddenly there, smiling softly behind a mask.

“What?” Yuta stared blankly at what he could only assume was a hallucination of his boyfriend (ex-boyfriend probably).

“How are you feeling, baby?” Claudio made the water bottle disappear without breaking eye contact with the young man on the floor.

“Weird?” Yuta muttered, still taking in the fact that he was seeing the man who just betrayed him. It took a moment to process that Claudio was in a black cap and hoodie, and had donned a hospital-provided surgical mask. “You’re not real?”

“Of course we’re real.” Claudio smiled, pulling the mask off to show his face. “You look a little sick, babe, we should help you to the bathroom.”

“We?” Yuta blinked a few times. Like ghosts Mox appeared, wearing the exact same thing as Claudio. PAC and Marina stood further back. “What the fuck…”

“Shh.” Claudio leaned forward to lightly kiss Yuta, pacifying the young man before helping him up.

“Wheeler.” Mox had an arm wrapped around the woozy man, leaning in to speak into Yuta’s ear. “My prince.”

“What the fuck is happening?” Yuta grunted again as he walked away from the wall toward a bathroom further away.

“We’re helping you, Wheeler,” Claudio reassured him, his soothing voice feeling less genuine than usual. “You may have drunk something you shouldn’t have.”

The door to the bathroom swung open. Regretfully no one was inside, but thankfully Marina and PAC stayed outside. The eerie sense of danger struck Yuta, but it also didn’t raise any alarms. He just felt himself getting horny as his two boyfriends (ex? probably) manhandled him. It felt so familiar in a moment so strange.

“I don’ need t’throw up,” Yuta slurred once they were alone.

“We know.” Mox let go to walk over to the countertop off to the side of the sinks. “Put my prince here. I wanna tell ‘im a story.”

Suddenly Yuta was lifted by the Swiss man and carried the rest of the way. Something about the action now pissed off Yuta, whereas it used to be one of his favorite things about fucking Caudio.

“Don’ fuckin’ pick me up, asshole.” Yuta made sure his words were much more formed this time, pushing against the larger man as he was placed on the counter.

“Shh. Relax, baby. I know you love when I lift you.” Claudio spoke softly into the younger man’s ear.

“I’m mad at you.” Yuta pushed harder on Claudio, he may have been out of it but he saw the nice guy façade flicker off for just a moment. It was hard to think, to remember, but Yuta could just barely remember shoving Claudio in the ring earlier only to be hit back.

“Hey. Relax.” Mox jerked his chin at his counterpart. “Hey, sweetheart.” His attention turned back to his young boy. “I’ve missed you.”

Mox was between Yuta’s knees, pushing up against the edge of the counter. Hands found hips. For the first time ever Yuta felt uncomfortable with Mox touching him. Something was telling him to fight back but he just didn’t really want to. There had been enough fighting, Yuta didn’t want to keep fighting his loved ones.

“Hey, don’t worry.” Mox had a hand on the young boy’s jaw, keeping their eyes connected. “I can help with all that--” He gestured at Yuta’s head. “Close your eyes and open your mouth for me, baby.”

“I donno.” Yuta tried to look away but was held in place.

Yuta was feeling less bad now, but also like he cared less. What more could these two do to him that hadn’t already been done? The violence Yuta could stomach, it was the actions he struggled to accept. There was a moment of rare patience from Mox. Finally Yuta timidly opened his mouth, but paused before also closing his eyes.

The jangle of the water bottle could be heard. The ridged feeling of the rim was familiar to Yuta. Without thinking much about it the young boy took a hefty drink. The salty taste was less strong than he remembered. Eyes still closed, he savored the moment of safety. Something else hit his tongue and Yuta went to open his eyes.

“No, no,” Mox tutted, his hand even covering Yuta’s eyes. “Swallow for me like the good boy I know you are.”

And he did. It was Mox’s raspy voice calling him a good boy and asking him to swallow. How could he not? Yuta was trying to fight to the surface but he just didn’t know how he was supposed to feel. The way Mox’s hands sent electric sparks over his nerve endings was too distracting.

“See, Claudio, he’s still a good boy.” Mox threw a grin over his shoulder at the looming figure behind him.

“We’ll see.” Claudio’s dark eyes drilled straight through Yuta.

“‘M mad’ch you both.” Yuta had to grit his teeth, holding onto that far off rage as waves of calm washed over him.

“That’s why I’m gonna tell you a story, sweetheart.” Mox grinned, all teeth as his hands brushed over the maroon shirt Yuta was wearing. “Just relax.”

“Stop,” Yuta found himself muttering but even he didn’t believe himself.

“Does it not feel good?” Mox paused, a vaguely concerned look that could be fake.

“It--” Yuta closed his eyes, trying to figure out what he wasn’t saying right. It still felt good to have these hands on his skin. “Yeah?”

“Remember our first match?” Mox bypassed the answer, leaning in as if that were the permission. Quietly he spoke into Yuta’s ear, hands running up his sides like sparklers on his skin. “Greatest forty seconds of my life.”

“Jon…” Yuta moaned when one hand passed over a certain part of his ribcage that was more sensitive. “‘Member gettin’ m’ass kicked.”

“I loved kicking it, baby.” Mox nibbled on his ear, feeling goosebumps under his hands. “I chased you after that. Obsessed with you. I couldn’t get you outta my head. Then Bryan…Bryan said your name first.”

“Jon, please.” Yuta shook his head slightly, dizziness hitting him.

Slowly Mox pulled back, his hand coming up to cup the back of Yuta’s neck. They locked eyes. There was something in the depths of the icy blues that Yuta just couldn’t figure out. A message just for him but he didn’t know what it said. More waves of calm hit Yuta, the last of his willpower being overturned.

“I knew you were my prince in those forty seconds, Wheeler.” Mox’s words held a sincerity that actually scared Yuta. It’d be easier if Mox just hated him. “And I mean mine.”

“I don’t understand. Why?” Yuta reached up to touch Mox’s check, feeling the coarse ginger hair.

“You will. Let me tell you a story.” Mox’s hands were back on Yuta, driving the young man’s body crazy. “There once was this kingdom. The King,” strong hands squeezed Yuta’s thighs, “allowed everyone to do as they pleased, but every so often the King would need to knock some heads. Then one day a dragon came.” Mox started working to open the belt holding up the black jeans on skinny hips. “This dragon propositioned the King, saying that they could share the prince the King was entitled to. They could share the kingdom and all the gold.” Sharp eyes stayed glued to Yuta’s face.

“But see, the King knew not to trust a dragon when it came to that which we covet. He asked the dragon what he would receive in return, because the King did not deal with those who did not battle with him.” Mox opened up the zipper of the young boy’s jeans. The loud metallic whine echoed off the bathroom walls. “The dragon claimed he wasn’t there as a threat, that he had heard that the King here was the greatest King there was and wanted to join such a fierce ruler. So the dragon would agree to battle the King, and then stand alongside the King, promising to help build the kingdom. With a dragon the King would be unstoppable.”

“Seems pretty fuckin’ stupid t’ trust a dragon.” Yuta sighed, feeling like this was taking too long.

“The King never trusted the dragon, Wheeler,” Claudio chimed in from his menacing position under a half-burned-out fluorescent light.

“Claudio’s right.” Mox nodded, his hand slowly sneaking into Yuta’s underwear. “The King never trusted the dragon, but knew that the dragon could help him get his prince. So the King called in his Knight, his closest confidant. Together they tamed the dragon, claiming the King’s prince, and ruled together for years. Until…the dragon…got…greedy.”

“Oh, fuck.” Yuta’s brain became a kaleidoscope of pleasure. This exact thing had happened before, but tonight it felt so much better. “J-Jon.”

“Did you even realize you were hard for me, slut?” The gravel in Mox’s voice sharpened the accusation, making the other squirm. “Is my story too interesting?”

“Not really,” Yuta panted, his drowsy eyes becoming more awake.

The sudden pain registered before the loud crack of the slap. Yuta’s world rocked back and forth as a devastating sting bloomed across the skin of his face. Everything felt good. The slap reminded Yuta of Regal, the way that man used to brutalize them. He felt his cock twitching in Mox’s palm.

“Look at that, getting turned on by a little violence and pain, baby?” Mox teased.

“Maybe he still can wear that jacket,” Claudio scoffed.

“Anyways, my story.” Mox fondled the head of the young boy’s cock, palming the sensitive gland with his big, warm hand. “When a dragon gets greedy there’s only one thing a King can do to protect his kingdom. Do you know what that is, Wheeler? Why does the King always have Knights by his side?”

“F-Fuck….no? I don’t--” Yuta shook his head, closing his eyes. The memory of Mox sliding the plastic bag over Bryan’s head was playing in his mind’s eye.

“You slay the dragon, and take back what belongs to you,” Mox growled in Yuta’s ear. “Take back your kingdom, your gold, and your prince.”

The word prince was punctuated by Mox squeezing Yuta’s dick almost painfully. To Yuta it just felt good. Even with his eyes closed and his brain playing them attacking Bryan over and over again, he was still horny. He tried to force the horrific scene in his head to get out of this, but Mox knew everything he liked.

“You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?” Mox grunted, voice laced with a poison sweetness. “I am too. Wheeler, it was so fucking sexy taking Bry down like that.” The nickname sent an uncomfortable shot through Yuta. “I was so fuckin’ hard feeling him thrash and fight as he lost his ability to breathe. Fucking idiot, made it easy for me by not conserving his oxygen.”

Everything inside Yuta snapped back. All the anger and pain, the way Mox spoke about Bryan. The familiarity and sexual nature of it sent the younger man over the edge. Just as Yuta came he headbutted Mox, right between the eyes thanks to the counter he was sitting on. When Mox pulled back Yuta used the space to slam a punch as hard as he could into Mox’s liver.

“Fuck!” Mox laughed as he reached out to grab Yuta’s hands.

Yuta was losing steam, feeling like he was being sucked under again. It took most of his power but he pushed himself forward off the countertop as Mox wrestled his hands. They staggered backwards together thanks to the ginger man’s grip not letting them fall. Yuta was woozy, at this point he was just falling into his boyfriend. (ex? yeah.)

“Alright, that’s enough.” Mox sighed in annoyance.

Everything went upside down for Yuta. A huge pain blossomed in his back. All the air rushed out of his lungs. For a few seconds everything was stars before the world started rushing back. Yuta’s body screamed at him that he was going to throw up.

“Ugh.” The gurgle groan got a few laughs that Yuta couldn't pay attention to right now.

Just as Yuta forced his body to turn over on the grimy tile with a hefty groan he felt his stomach contract. A heavy amount of pain obscured his ability to feel his body. No retching came but he heard the others laughing more at the few dry heaves. Opening his eyes was a difficult task but if Yuta focused he could see.

“Fuck, it’s kinda hot.” Mox nudged the taller man with an elbow as they watched the young boy.

“I’d agree.” Claudio gave an approving nod, standing behind Mox now. Large hand rubbing the hard outline of the man’s dick through the tight black pants. “Hasn’t even realized, King.”

“Nah. To be fair he must be feeling out of this world by now.” Mox’s tongue stuck out slightly as he watched his young boy wither on the floor.

“Excellent throw, by the way.” Claudio said casually as he kissed Mox’s neck. “You should tell him.”

“Tell me wha’?” Yuta stayed limp on the cold floor. It felt good. Some sort of relief had overtaken him, and he was riding one of those long waves of horny calm now.

Reluctantly Mox extracted himself from the Swiss man. All Yuta could really think about was how good Mox’s dick looked against those pants. The stiff, girthy outline was mouth watering. The ginger man crouched down, a smirk on his face as he reached out to start taking Yuta’s jacket off. Sliding the arm through, then the other. Finally he roughly tugged the BCC jacket out from under Yuta and tossed it to Claudio.

“You pissed yourself, kid.” Mox chuckled as he knelt back down.

“Wha’?” Yuta blinked a few times at the man leaning over him before he looked down at his crotch. Sure enough…he had pissed himself. There was come, and piss soaked his underwear and ran down his leg to puddle on the floor. “Oh fuck. How…?”

“I knocked the piss outta you with that throw. Don’t worry, I made sure you didn’t get any on your precious jacket.” Mox’s cruel tease just made his target whimper.

“This bathroom is out of order.” Claudio mentioned as he walked closer. “And I really need to piss.”

“Funny.” Mox stood up, stretching his arms over his hand. “I gotta take a leak too.”

“Fuck. Why’s this hot?” Yuta groaned to himself. A feeling of weird, sexy shame welled up in his belly. “I don’t want this?”

“But don’t you?” Claudio shrugged, the nice guy flickering on again like he was helping Yuta accept an unconventional sex thing about himself. “You came so hard you pissed yourself, baby.”

“I did, yeah…” Yuta just felt…good. Other than a little dry mouth his body was feeling like it was on cloud nine.

“He looks thirsty, C.” Mox winked, noticing the smacking of the young boy’s lips. “Take care of my prince.”

To Yuta’s surprise it wasn’t urine to quench his thirst. Actually Claudio kindly got his water bottle. Careful hands helped Yuta sip some of the salty oasis. The bottle was mostly empty now. Again Claudio made the bottle disappear out of the young boy’s sight.

A large hand gripped the collar of Yuta’s shirt, scrunching up the maroon material. As Claudio started dragging Yuta, the collar choked the younger man. Not much but enough to make him cough. His back met the cool wall, sliding down it enough to be considered slumped.

“Jerk off, baby. You feel good, don’t ya?” Mox walked closer, one hand undoing his belt buckle the rest of the way.

There was a whole part of Yuta detached from everything, but another part that was so present that he couldn’t deny he was into it. Everything felt incredible; he’d already come and his body wanted more. The nagging thought that this might be the last time he ever had these men, or the absolution that this might not even be happening drove Yuta to comply.

“C’mon, baby, do it for your King.” The pink of Mox’s tongue poked out as he watched his young boy work to push his pants down, underwear going with it. “Good boy. I told you he was still a good boy, Claudio.”

“Perhaps.” Claudio’s skeptical look was something Yuta had never been on the receiving end of, and it crushed a certain part of the smaller wrestler. Always Claudio had an unshakable faith in Yuta that had now disappeared. “I do not think he understands the privilege he has of serving his King.”

“Always looking out for my honor.” Mox’s attention completely left Yuta for him to beam at his most trusted confidant, his knight in shining armor.

“It is my duty to protect my King.” Claudio’s sure voice had Yuta wince, and his skin crawled.

“That’s why you’re here.” Mox’s hand clasped around the back of the larger man’s neck, their eyes on each other as if no one else was there.

The devotion and sincerity to Mox like he was a higher power came through as alarming. Yuta had never seen this side of Claudio, not even a hint. Even in Yuta’s current state he could tell something was off with his boyfriends. (yes, ex-boyfriends. right.)

Even the way Mox jerked the taller man down seemed rough. The way they handled each other was brutal. Yuta thought they were going to kiss. Instead Mox bit into Claudio’s lower lip until he bled. Even as teeth tore through sensitive skin Claudio didn’t flinch. Sure the BCC had been hard, rough, and even brutal. Yuta knew how odd the thought sounded in his head. It felt different now.

Despite the violent display happening above Yuta making him question the other two’s sanity, he was still working his cock like he’d been told to do. Mox’s fingers dug into the back of Claudio’s neck as he worked the wound for more blood. The soft whimpering that rumbled from Claudio’s chest made Yuta’s heart stop. That was the same sound Claudio made when they were kissing.

“You’re it,” Mox whispered, trying not to let Yuta hear their crazed intimacy. “You’re the reason I can take back what’s mine. You are the King Maker, and because of that, when it comes to my prince, what's mine is rightfully yours.”

“King--” Claudio looked so softly at the man holding him by the neck.

“Sh.” Mox stopped the other from speaking, bringing up his hand to smear the blood across the Swiss man’s mouth. “You’re beautiful.”

“I’m still right fuckin’ here,” Yuta grunted. “Sitting in my own piss.”

“You’re jerking off, aren’t you?” Mox growled as he was forced to end the moment with his trusted knight. “Jealous little bitch.”

“Fuck you,” Yuta spat.

There was too much movement for Yuta to keep track of as Claudio went to strike him, but Mox stopped the larger man. The fire in Claudio’s eyes told Yuta that he was incredibly lucky to be spared. Again, the young boy wasn’t familiar with this Claudio.

“You know I like his mouth. It’s okay.” Mox leaned into the hold he had on Claudio’s arm to nuzzle his neck. “You can do the honors. It’ll make you feel better.”

“Thank you.” Claudio relaxed, straightening up after the nuzzling pacified him. “You honor me.”

“You deserve it.” Mox pulled back, but his eyes stayed on the red around the other’s mouth. “Let’s pick up the pace. We have a lot to do.”

“Yes, King.” Claudio gave a stiff nod.

“Fuckin’ finally,” Yuta mumbled, his eyes had dropped in drowsiness again.

“You’re lucky,” Claudio reminded the slumped man. “You won’t be for long, and I’ll remember when it’s time.”

“Cryptic as usual.” Yuta shrugged, not caring anymore about the conversation because the man in front of him was pulling out his dick.

Claudio made sure to crowd Yuta as his cock flopped out of his shorts. The massive length always impressed the younger man, he loved taking it in any form. So many memories of times before rushed back to him as he looked up at a man so much different than the man in his memories. This wouldn’t even be the first time they’d pissed on him.

The hot stream landed heavily on Yuta’s chest, soaking the maroon to a deeper shade. The spreading warmth made the young boy moan, his hand working his cock to full hardness. Just as he got carried away, his eyes closing from the pleasure, Claudio flicked his stream up into Yuta’s face.

Instantly, Yuta pulled away. A new kind of betrayal. Getting piss on Yuta’s face intentionally had been a hard limit, along with drinking it. At the time Claudio had gently assured him those preferences were fine and not unusual. Using that against Yuta was a different kind of low.

“Keep your fuckin’ hands down, bitch,” Mox warned when he noticed Yuta instinctively trying to block the stream.

“Cryptic enough, Wheeler?” Claudio snarked as the stream started to die down, and leaned forward just to make sure every last drop landed on the Yutas face. “Fuck you.”

“Okay! I get it.” Yuta reached down to grab his shirt, wanting to use it to clean his face off some before he realized it was soaked.

“Why do you think he didn’t just go for the face?” Mox laughed while he watched his distressed young boy. “Don’t worry, sweetheart, I won’t piss on your face, but then again you didn’t piss me off.”

“I’m sorry.” Yuta nearly sobbed. “Can I please-- just--?”

“Fuckin’ Christ. You broke him just by doing that?” Mox was still snickering, hand on his dick.

“It was one of the few hard limits he refused to move on.” Claudio mentioned off-handedly. Like it was just some casual fact instead of an intimate personal thing. “He told me why, too.”

“Don’t.” Yuta actually sobbed, he felt tears washing away the piss.

“Why?” Mox was giddy.

“Once on a very long drive, Trent poured a bottle of piss on Wheeler’s face while he was asleep.” Claudio summarized the traumatic story, each word making Yuta cry even harder.

“Fuck, that dude is a prick.” Mox laughed even more. “That’s fuckin’ funny.”

“Everyone was in the van, weren’t they?” Claudio was suddenly very close to Yuta, kneeling down. “Answer.”

“Yes.” Yuta hiccuped the word out between sobs. It was like reliving the moment on a fast loop.

“No one gave a shit, did they?” Claudio urged. “What was it that Orange said? Damn it Trent, now the car is going to smell like pee.”

“Y-Yes.” Yuta shook his head, unable to stop from remembering that moment.

“God damn, dude. You stayed with those assholes way too long. Get out of the splash zone, C.” Mox urged. “Unless you want some backsplash.”

“After tonight we may have our own shower.” Claudio’s voice moved further away.

Yuta didn’t want to open his eyes. Tightly screwed shut since the first moment piss splashed his face. Nothing was stopping the loop of Trent’s mistreatment, he couldn’t climb free. He knew he needed to open his eyes, ground himself that he wasn’t back then. Not that right now was much better.

Finally the choice was ripped away from Yuta. The only choice tonight he was grateful not to have to make. From deep inside his head Yuta heard Mox ask for water and then something ran over his face. A few slaps and Yuta had the courage to open his eyes.

“Fuckin’ pussy. It’s no fun if you’re catatonic.” Mox groaned as if this was some huge inconvenience Yuta had caused. “Keep your eyes open or I piss on your face. Also if you stop jerking off I’ll piss on your face.”

“It’s not like that’s been a problem.” Claudio’s snark made Yuta realize that his hand was still massaging his dick.

After Mox told his young boy to keep his hands down, he had. Then Yuta reverted back to the original order to jerk off. It made his head spin more that this was so ingrained in him after all these years.

A lot of strange things had happened tonight, but even Yuta had to admit to himself that noticing that Mox’s piss was clearer than normal had to be up there. It wasn’t just clearer but clear. Yuta marveled at that. Mox had pissed on and near him before, he had heard countless arguments from Bryan about how Mox needed to drink more water because his piss was dark.

“Your piss is clear.” Yuta watched as the hefty stream soaked his crotch, allowing his hand to slip and slide even better. A moan slipped past his lips.

“Claudio’s keeping me healthy.” Mox moaned as he watched his young boy’s cock under his piss. “Only water, and two cups of coffee a day. You’re lucky.”

Yuta’s deconstructed brain wondered if Claudio’s control over Mox’s diet was the reason for the massive physical difference now. Mox was unbelievably cut, his waist shrinking down and he was packed with more defined muscles. These days Mox was starting to look like a bodybuilder, his physique mimicking Claudio’s in some ways.

As the stream ended Yuta realized he spent the whole time worrying about the abrupt change in all of Mox’s usual habits. The last few drops were shaken off until Yuta was just sitting in a massive puddle of three men’s piss, his clothes completely ruined.

“That feels better.” Mox sighed as he finished, looking down at the very wet Wheeler.

“He kind of looks like PAC,” Claudio joked, but only actually laughed when Mox playfully shoved him.

“Alright, alright. Get him stripped, and over the counter.” Mox stepped back to allow his right-hand man to do the work.

While Claudio undressed Yuta, the young boy watched Mox watch them. The black jacket was tossed onto the sinks. As Mox’s belt escaped each loop Yuta watched closely, captivated. There was a sense that if he looked hard enough then he might understand, or maybe he was just horny.

The black jeans were slung low over Mox’s hips. Shirt so snug it rode up a little near the ginger man’s hips. The slutty little jut he used to teased them all any chance he got. Yuta watched as Mox slowly stripped himself of the t-shirt too, mostly for his young boy’s pleasure.

“Fuck, he looks good.” Yuta didn’t know he was speaking out loud until he saw Claudio look over too.

“He looks incredible.” Claudio’s mesmerized voice did little to deter his hands from working.

“I know you two are talkin’ ‘bout me.” Mox sauntered over, tongue poking out between his lips.

“Of course.” Claudio was crouched down as Mox came to a stop in front of him. “Nearly done.” The Swiss man’s eyes traveled lower to the appealing skin just above Mox’s pants.

“You’re good, big man. It ain’t like he’s helping much.” Mox nudged Yuta in the side with his boot.

“Hey.” Yuta tried to push the dirty boot away but missed.

“King?” Claudio looked up at the other man, eyes asking for some sort of permission.

“Go ahead.” Mox grinned, apparently knowing exactly what the other wanted.

Yuta watched as Claudio leaned forward, one hand on Mox’s hip. Just over the jut of the ginger man’s hip, right above the line of his jeans, Claudio pressed a bloody kiss. When the Swiss man pulled away there was a smudged, bloody mark of his lips. It reminded Yuta of the trashy tattoos of a lady’s lipstick print. That sickening devotion oozed out of Claudio.

“Good. Go on and finish up,” Mox urged while admiring the mark.

The last of Yuta’s clothes were stripped away. Nothing left shielding him from the chill or embarrassment. Despite the long interlude Yuta was still mostly hard. The piss was drying on his skin, but the puddle on the ground was still there. This time Claudio didn’t have Yuta’s collar to haul him up so he had to lift the younger man from under his arms.

Everything washed around in Yuta’s vision. It was hard to get his feet under him, not that Claudio seemed to care as he stumbled along. Each inch of Yuta’s body felt gross, but also hot. It was hard to untangle his thoughts and feelings from how good it all felt. Even when Claudio had recounted the Trent story, if Yuta was honest with himself…it was hot. He’d almost come from the shame and embarrassment and traumatic memories.

The counter they had sat him on earlier suddenly was in his face. Yuta grunted at the thud he made on the hard surface, but his body just sang with pleasure. Both of his hands finally came up to rest near his head. For some reason Yuta wasn’t quite sure what was about to happen. Even after everything the other two had done, it just hadn’t clicked yet.

When Yuta realized no one was actually holding him down he pushed himself up just enough to look over his shoulder. Mox and Claudio stood behind him, looking directly at their target. They noticed Yuta looking over so Claudio covered his mouth while speaking. It seemed like they were discussing something based on the way Mox was giving short nods in response to the covered words. There was something like consideration on Mox's face until finally he agreed.

“You’ve got a point. Let’s stick to the plan as much as possible,” Mox muttered before making a sweeping gesture at Yuta. “Go ahead.”

“Wha’s happening?” Yuta felt himself lulling into one of those sleepy waves of serenity.

“Baby, if you don’t realize yet...” Mox just shrugged instead of finishing his statement.

“Well,” Claudio chuckled as he gestured to the hazy man bent over a counter. “As you said earlier, he is out of this world by now.”

“True.” Mox rubbed his chin as he looked at his naked young boy. “Show me my prince, Claudio.

“Yes, King.” Claudio gave a sharp nod.

A large hand pushed at the middle of Yuta’s back, forcing him down. The slow processing of his brain started to finally figure out what was happening just as Claudio spread the younger man’s cheeks. A terrified shiver ran through Yuta as he considered what was going to happen next.

“Fuck, baby, you look pretty damn good yourself,” Mox sounded off with a low whistle, his head tipped to the side slightly as he examined the naked man’s hole. “Damn pretty.”

The first touch Yuta felt was some kind of wet wipe, and it was more startling than he expected. Efficiently Claudio cleaned off his cheeks, his hole and balls. The quick work surprised Yuta before he realized that he was being cleaned up for their sake, not his own. It was a reminder that this was about Mox and Claudio, not Yuta.

Claudio’s first pass with his tongue over Yuta’s hole made the younger man flinch and jerk up. Everything was heightened, it felt so good but he didn’t…he just didn’t want this. Even as all of his nerve endings fired off happily, Yuta tried to reach back to stop it.

“Put your hands back, Wheeler.” Mox sighed as he came closer. “Look, kid, there’s two things that are about to happen. Either you let us take what’s ours, or we take what’s ours.”

“B-But I-I don’t--” Yuta pressed his forehead hard into the fake granite. “I’m mad at you.”

“You might be mad at us, Wheeler, but you will not defy your King,” Claudio growled from behind him.

“You don’t what, kid? You want it. Just look at your leaking cock.” Mox leaned against the counter, reaching out to grab a fist full of dark hair and wrench the younger man’s head back. “We know exactly what makes you feel good, baby. Let us.”

It sounded like a threat so Yuta just nodded as much as he could. There was a light pat to his check before Mox let go of his hair. Yuta’s face smacked the counter again. The soft wet feeling was back at his hole, but even though Yuta’s body told him it felt good, his brain let him know that he was right to feel violated.

Claudio spat on the quivering hole before him and then gathered up his saliva with his fingers to breach Yuta. The touch reminded him that not twelve hours earlier Claudio was sweetly fucking him in the locker room after their loss, promising there would be another chance, another time.

“Ha.” Claudio slipped two fingers into Yuta with ease. “He’s ready.”

“Yeah? The plan though.” Mox licked his lips as he watched Yuta’s trembling body.

“He’s still open from earlier.” Claudio shrugged.

“Clever. Flip him over.” Mox pointed at the bent over man and gestured for the action to happen.

Yuta was determined to flip himself over this time. Every time Claudio took a hold of him was just another reminder that this wasn’t his boyfriend. The nice guy switch was turned off. But Yuta couldn’t get himself turned over quick enough; his limbs felt like tired jello.

As Yuta was moved he moaned, his back tender from the throw earlier as well as his match. The annoying way his cock twitched when his bruised back wasn’t taken care of made Yuta’s eyes well up in tears. Why did it feel good? He knew it shouldn’t.

Suddenly Mox was between his young boy’s legs, forcing out any ponderings over the situation from Yuta’s head. The harsh scrape of jeans against Yuta’s ass made him whimper, his hips even wiggling a little. He could feel Mox’s cock on him.

“You’re tryin’ to tell me you don’t want this, baby? But your body’s begging for it.” Mox moaned as his cock slid against the cleft of Yuta’s ass.

“I don’t want it, Jon.” Yuta’s broken voice contradicted his physical state.

“Baby, you do.” Mox’s thrusts against his young boy’s ass were getting rougher, catching the rim and making Yuta whimper. “Listen to yourself. It’s been a few months, I know you need some of this.”

“Wha’re you even…?” Yuta held his head up to give Mox the most bewildered look. “Wasn’t I always t’one fuckin’ you?”

The flicker of annoyance across Mox’s face let Yuta know he’d done something bad, had disturbed the power fantasy Mox had built for himself. Questioning that delusion seemed to be the only thing that actually made the so-called King angry.

Suddenly real pain blossomed inside Yuta’s core as Mox pushed his way in without mercy. The twitch in Mox’s eyes showing just how pissed he actually felt. Despite being open from earlier activities, Yuta still felt the immense pain of being fucked into totally dry.

“Oh, right. Lube. Maybe I should think before I act? Maybe you should think before you speak, prince.” Mox glared down at the withering man. “Claudio?”

“Sir.” Claudio handed something over to his leader.

Mox pulled out with a painful drag that made his young boy arch off the table. A hand slapped over Yuta’s mouth before he could scream. The sound was muffled by Claudio’s hand. The cool feeling of lube startled Yuta, making his eyes shoot open.

The next thrust felt infinitely better aside from the soreness. Yuta choked back a whine, his head falling back. The girth of Mox’s cock felt so good, Yuta knew from experience, but tonight it felt out of this world. It wasn’t often the young boy got to experience Mox’s cock, and he always cherished when he did get it.

Except for today.

This time had Yuta trembling with anger, shame, and arousal. For a moment he let himself live in the moment, taking in the feeling because he wasn’t ever going to get it again. He didn’t want it, but he craved it. The nostalgia mixing with genuine anger and hate made a confusing tapestry of emotions.

The confusion was more exhausting than anything else. Yuta tried to focus instead on what was happening. The actual feeling, and accepting it. Being present in his body was horrifying, but it was also pleasurable. Staying in his head just made Yuta more sick, so he focused on the harsh, arrhythmic thrusts sending sharp, pleasant sparks through his body.

Mox was always a messy, rough fuck. Heavy hands gripped Yuta’s waist, dragging him harshly by his hips until his ass rested perfectly on the edge. Their bodies meeting flush where they were connected. Tired of holding Yuta’s legs, Mox forced them around his own waist. Without thinking about it, Yuta cinched in, his legs constricting around the tiny waist to rest on Mox’s hips. That brought them perfectly together.

It would be perfect, any other time. Yuta laid back on the counter top, eyes barely open as he watched Mox fuck into him. Every muscle was on display as Mox’s skin shined with sweat. Whatever Mox had been up to lately had him looking extra cut too, Yuta of course noticed. The man looked incredible towering over Yuta, making him feel like he was on the moon. The view was something Yuta wanted to remember forever, and forget as soon as possible.

The dominance oozing out of Mox as he took what was ‘his’ was so different. The act would be hot if Yuta didn’t know Mox so well already. It was like only the jagged pieces of his boyfriend were left, and they were all turned inward. As if Mox had taken a razor to every scar on his body. Yuta didn’t understand, and that scared him. Mox was scaring him.

There must have been something on Yuta’s face because Claudio was moving before he even made the decision. Yuta couldn’t muster up any swiftness, but he tried his best. One of Mox’s hands had moved from his hip to his abs, just feeling Yuta’s body trembling. Yuta reached down to grab the other man’s wrist with the opposite hand, pulling Mox forward and then cinching his legs higher.

The movement forced Mox’s feet to slip back as his chest fell forward. It wasn’t much but Yuta was able to force more of his body off the counter like he wanted. The idea was for Mox to drop him or slip. That way Yuta could attack for real. The hand that had been on the younger man’s hip moved to support Mox’s weight against the counter.

“No.” Mox’s stern voice rang out.

At first Yuta thought it was towards him, but he saw Claudio stop instead. A strange twitch to his face at being told to stand down. Yuta growled as he pushed his hips further out until Mox had to step back, and the younger man’s body slid from the countertop. Instead of dropping to the floor Mox held them up, one hand on Yuta’s ass as he leaned back to keep Yuta on his cock.

“Oh, fuck.” Yuta found himself moaning as Mox slid deeper into him.

The distraction meant Yuta lost control of the wrist. Instinctively his arms went around Mox’s neck, and suddenly they weren’t fighting anymore. They were fucking again.

“Fuck, baby,” Mox moaned in his ear. “That was fuckin’ hot. Clever. I wasn’t paying you enough attention.”

Strong arms kept Yuta strapped to the fuzzy chest. Slow, shallow thrusts had Yuta whimpering. The only thing he could realistically do was strike, but he didn’t have the strength or coordination. Suddenly Yuta decided to just wiggle, trying to break Mox’s hold.

“Hey, C.” Mox’s laughter wasn’t what Yuta wanted to hear. “Help me out with our little ex-Pure Champ.”

“3 time former Pure Champ, asshole!” Yuta found some strength in that anger, reeling back to headbutt Mox in the face.

Their faces connected a lot softer than Yuta wanted. Most of Yuta connected with the side of his (yeah, ex) boyfriend’s mouth. Everything was a seesaw for the young man as he tried to figure out what was happening now. New hands were on him now, controlling him and moving his body wherever they wanted.

It sunk in just how familiar being held like this felt. Claudio practically had him in a full nelson. Not that Yuta could use his arms well before but now he had no control. The taller man leaned against the counter, supporting Yuta’s trunk as Mox angled him so they could keep going. Not once had Mox slipped out.

“You wouldn’t be my prince if you didn’t put up a fight, huh?” Mox smirked up at his young boy. Yuta stopped fighting when he saw genuine affection there. “Now let me finish up. Claudio still deserves his turn.”

“Take your time, King.” Claudio sounded completely willing to wait his turn even though the long, hard outline of his cock pressed against his captive’s back.

“You’re a good boy.” Mox was looking over Yuta at the Swiss man, smiling and winking. “Fuck. We’re going to fuck so hard later.” The thrusts got harder until Yuta whined. “Can’t fuckin’ wait.”

“You--” Claudio glanced down at Yuta, clearly not wanting for their young boy to hear him but his desire to please his false king persisted. “You will make me bleed again?”

“Fuck.” Mox moaned, his eyes screwing tight as he slammed into Yuta’s overwhelmed body. “I kissed you earlier, didn’t I?”

“Please, King.” Claudio’s grip tightened on Yuta, boardlining painful.

“I’d bleed you dry if I didn’t need you.” Mox was breathing harder, his hips working faster as he drove harder into their captive.

It sounded so strange and psychotic to Yuta. They all had their things, sure, and they were all willing to play with Mox’s blood kink. The sincerity of the statement didn’t sit right with Yuta. Like a lot of things these two had been doing in the last ten hours.

“Fuck it. I’m gonna come.” Mox was still looking at Claudio. They may as well have forgotten Yuta was there.

“I cannot wait to fuck him with your seed.” Claudio’s dark voice rumbled against Yuta.

“Holy shit.” Mox slammed one final time into the abused hole. “That’s it, baby. Take it.”

Yuta was hyper aware of the feeling of hot spurts coating his insides. Despite the entire situation Yuta’s cock was still mostly hard, twitching to full hardness as Mox came inside him. The sharp, little thrusts as Mox made sure to fully empty himself drove Yuta wild.

It was gone in moments, leaving Yuta frustrated and disgusted. His body went limp against Claudio’s hold. There was no escape. At least it felt good, he thought to himself.

“Where’ya want him?” Mox grunted as he came down from his high. Ever so slowly his hard cock grew softer inside Yuta, slipping out little by little.

“We can lay him down.” Claudio shrugged.

Together they gently dumped Yuta onto the ground. The young man groaned, his body curling in. Nothing…hurt? Not really. They were being violent but Yuta wasn’t being hurt.

“You can play with yourself, babe.” Mox was stretching as he stood over his young boy. “You’re hard as a rock. Leaking all over yourself.”

Sure enough, Yuta looked and saw his cock was swollen, aching for attention. Slowly he uncurled his body enough to comfortably stroke his cock. The waves of calm took longer to hit now but Yuta was catching one. This time he tried to embrace it since nothing else had worked.

“Wheeler.” Claudio addressed him suddenly as he knelt in front of Mox to do up his King’s pants. “Do not let any of his seed leak out, or I won’t be using lube. Understand me?”

The command was hot as hell. Yuta nodded in agreement quickly. There had been vaguely similar threats in the comfort of their bedroom before. It took a moment for Yuta to fully shift onto his back, hand reaching down past his aching cock to finger his hole. Carefully pushing and keeping in anything that Mox left behind.

Looking over Yuta watched Claudio lightly nip at the skin just above where Mox’s jeans sat. Little bite marks and bruises. The larger man nuzzled the marks he left, clearly proud of them, and his King reached down to pet Claudio’s bald head.

The sweet affection the pair shared made Yuta’s stomach turn and his heart ache to be included. They weren’t like this before. The change in power, who did what, the brutality of it left Yuta’s head spinning and his cock hard. These weren’t the two men he’d spent the last few years exploring with. Maybe Mox and Claudio weren’t different, Yuta thought, maybe this was who they really were under everything. Years of a convincing mask ripped away.

“It’s your turn,” Mox encouraged in a quiet tone, still petting the other man. Their eyes stayed locked, neither moving as they were entranced with each other.

“As you wish, Sir.” Claudio laid one last bite mark to Mox’s belt before standing up.

Yuta watched the pair closely as he fingered himself. Studying the way they approached and touched each other. There had always been a special sort of affection the Swiss man had for Mox that borderlined on obsessiveness. Now they were both embracing their psychotic connection.

“At least he still listens,” Claudio commented as he walked toward their young boy.

“Ah, Wheeler’s always been a slut. He just wants to feel good, huh?” Mox mocked as he walked towards his t-shirt on the sink.

“Sound’ike someone else’n t’room.” Yuta frowned at the jumbled words.

“What the fuck did he say?” Mox laughed. “Jesus. Lightweights, huh.”

“He said,” Claudio stood over the man in question. “Sounds like someone else in the room.” The displeasure in his voice made Yuta’s skin crawl.

“Mouthy brat.” Mox huffed as he tucked his shirt back in.

“S’you.” Yuta fired back. Really what he wanted to say was takes one to know one but clearly his words were compressed.

“Oh-ho!” Mox clapped his hands together. There was actual amusement on his face when he joined Claudio standing over him. “You know, Wheeler, I have to admit that sometimes I gotta real soft spot for you. Like when I tapped out for you at Blood & Guts. I shouldn’t have. I like you, I know you’re a funny little brat. It makes me weak at times.” He sighed as he crouched down near his young boy's head. “Luckily I have someone to handle that for me. I think he’ll teach you a good lesson in humility.”

“Jon, please…” Yuta tried pleading with his eyes, looking for a shred of humanity there.

“I need you to realize your place, Wheeler.” Mox reached out to cup his young boy’s face, thumb rubbing his cheek. “We love you. Your place is with us, believe it or not. You belong with us.”

“Who says?” Yuta scoffed, but he wasn’t prepared for what came next.

“His Lordship,” Mox admitted, his eyes softening a little. “The asshole himself.”

“Wha’?” Yuta squeezed his eyes closed for a moment. This must be a dream because Mox cursed that man since the day he lost the world title.

“It was all part of his Lordship’s plan. Bryan’s his favorite, calling him the perfect wrestler, but he saw himself in me.” Mox spoke slowly, really wanting his young boy to absorb this. “His Lordship saw in you what he sees individually in Bryan and me. You just need iron to sharpen iron, Wheeler.”

“We’re giving you what you lack, take the gift we offer,” Claudio reiterated.

“So…wha…” Yuta shook his head, trying to find the words in his messy brain. “Wha’s any of this gonna do?”

“How do you think his Lordship tested us?” Claudio stepped between Yuta’s legs.

There was nothing Yuta could say to that, or the reality of it. The younger wrestler just looked dumbly up at Claudio as he wrapped his hand around Yuta’s wrist. The Swiss man pulled the other’s hand away. A shiver ran through the young boy as they stared each other down. There was something there in the dark eyes that once seemed so kind. Yuta couldn’t figure out what was on Claudio’s face, an unreadable message.

“Can you stand on your own?” Claudio’s clinical tone made Yuta look away.

“Wha’? Got tired of pickin’ me up?” Yuta snarked, knowing it may have been a bad choice. This was the first bit of tenderness the Swiss giant had shown him.

No response was given as Yuta found himself being flipped over. Strong arms wrapped around his waist to hoist him up. It was like he was nothing to Claudio. The man easily moved Yuta back over to the counter, dropping him face first this time. Claudio pushed down in the middle of the young boy’s back, forcing him flat.

The counter was just the right height to bend Yuta over and be slightly uncomfortable. Just a little too tall forcing him onto the balls of his feet, either hand planted on the counter to keep his balance. It took a moment for Yuta to realize the other two were talking.

“We should see if he wants the last of it?” Mox was speaking, the rattling sound of the water bottle under his words.

“There isn’t much left.” Claudio sounded agreeable.

“T’risty.” Yuta grunted from his place pinned down on the counter.

“Bet you are, baby.” Mox’s laughter got closer.

The pressure on Yuta’s back let up so he could push himself up. The bottle was pressed to his lips. A last little mouthful of just barely salty water. On some level Yuta knew whatever was making him feel so good was also most likely what was in that bottle. As well as whatever Mox had given him earlier.

As soon as the bottle was taken away Claudio was forcing the younger man back down. The click of the lube cap came as a relief for Yuta, he knew what he was in store for and could even remember times Claudio refused to fuck him because they didn’t have enough lube or prep time. It wasn’t safe, it would hurt Yuta.

The thick head pressed against Yuta’s hole. Rubbing up and down in small, slow movements. The anticipation of pain didn’t go unsatisfied. The harsh thrust to push the head in coincided with the much needed wave of horny calm that rushed Yuta. The combination made him see stars; his cock started to throb in time with the burn in his ass.

“Oh my god.” Yuta moaned loudly as he felt the pressure increase. “Fuck!”

“Shh, sweet prince.” Mox reached out to stroke his young boy’s hair. “Don’t want the whole hospital knowing you’re a slut for a big cock, right?”

“Please, fuck, fuck.” Yuta’s hands curled into fists at the large intrusion into his body.

“He still tight, big guy? He looks tight.” Mox leaned over Yuta’s body to watch Claudio’s cock disappear.

“Hm.” Claudio nodded, clearly annoyed. “If he would relax this would be a lot easier.”

“T-Tryin--ah!” Yuta was interrupted by a harsh thrust, pushing in inches he wasn’t ready for yet. He used to love when Claudio got a little too rough like this, so he tried to live in that world.

“There ya go.” Mox laughed at the sudden outburst. “He’s like halfway in, kid. You can take it.”

“C-Claudio--” Yuta shook his head slightly, forehead rubbing against the counter.

“Feels good at least,” Claudio muttered as he slowly pulled out.

The agonizing drag made Yuta twitch and jump until just the enormous head remained. There was more lube applied before Claudio gave a few experimental thrusts. The sharp rocking felt good, slight pressure and short glide of the large cock sent sparks through the younger man’s body. Then Claudio pushed in as hard as he could as far as he could, and Yuta couldn’t hold back the scream.

“Jesus.” Mox groaned, slapping his hand over Yuta’s mouth as best he could when the other started making too much noise. “He ain’t even giving it to you yet, kid.”

Most of the noise Yuta made was muffled by the hand over his mouth.It was hard to not wiggle around, attempting to get away from the forceful insertion. While Mox might have liked that Yuta was pushing back against his fate, Claudio was finding it tedious.

Another too hard thrust made Yuta scream and thrash. The rock-steady hold Claudio had on his captive’s back prevented much from happening. It was slowing down the process, that kind of thing always sent Claudio into the next realm of frustration.

There was a shift from behind as the pressure stopped. Experience told Yuta that the Swiss giant was roughly three fourths the way in. That tended to be where he stopped when they didn’t have enough time. The last bit was the hardest to take even with proper prep. Yuta shifted himself, looking back a little to see what was going on.

Mox leaned over him as Claudio whispered into his King’s ear. There was a look of concentration on Mox’s face as he took in what he was being told. The sadistic glint in the icy blues told Yuta it was time to worry. Thankfully the calm made that impossible right now. They broke apart, the hand on Yuta’s mouth leaving. Claudio roughly forced him down again when he noticed Yuta peeking up.

“I predicted this problem may arise.” Claudio sighed again as his glare intensified. “Stay still.”

Both of Yuta’s hands were jerked off the counter, rotating backwards until they rested at the small of his back. A soft leather looped around each wrist, Yuta could feel a metal buckle. It had to be Mox’s belt. It was like a party trick, Claudio could make bondage cuffs out of almost anything given enough time. A belt was child’s play as he wrapped up Yuta’s wrists and pulled them tight.

“Fuck, stop it!” Yuta wiggled his shoulders, the new position much more uncomfortable. “Fuck you, Claudio!”

“Shut up,” Claudio growled. “You’ll want to be restrained for this part.”

“Wha’?” Yuta sagged, feeling defeated yet again.

“Thank you, King.” Claudio was done talking to the man on his cock.

Yuta’s head was jerked to the side, his eyes opening to see Mox standing over him. The painful grip on his hair as the pseudo King smirked down, a little pink poking out from between his lips. For just a moment Yuta was distracted by the playful look he had seen on his boyfriend’s face so many times. But this was his ex boyfriend.

A damp sock was shoved into Yuta’s mouth while he was distracted. It was his own sock which meant it was wet from their piss earlier. He gagged at the realization. There was a moment where Yuta’s brain didn’t kick on to tell him to spit it out, he just looked up at Mox with doe eyes.

Something passed over Yuta’s field of vision. Terror ran through him, not knowing if he was about to be strangled like Bryan had. The fabric landed across Yuta’s mouth, going behind his head to be tied off. Securing the sock in place so it couldn’t be spit out.

“That is much better.” Claudio groaned loudly in the empty room.

“You’re too efficient for fun sometimes, babe.” Mox held so much affection in his teasing tone for his partner.

“This,” Claudio nodded towards their captive young boy, “is very fun.”

The Swiss giant slowly pulled out again, moaning as he did. He watched Yuta’s fingers flex and twitch, his shoulders shaking. Seeing Yuta helplessly struggle made Claudio throb. Another layer of lube and a slight change of angle, and Claudio pushed fully inside the tight space. Even where there was resistance he just pushed through as Yuta screamed against the gag.

“Fuck, baby.” Mox’s dreamy voice was off to the side.

Yuta sobbed into the gag as he was violated. A part of Yuta tried to believe he was crying because of the pain, but…he was crying from relief. It hurt, it hurt a lot, but it also was the best Yuta ever felt. The mixed up, confused body misfired allowing Yuta to feel everything as pleasure.

The hot burn from the huge cock sliding in and out drove Yuta mad. It was all pulling in his belly. Even the belt around his wrist, and the disgusting sock were getting him off. There was nothing he could do. He could choose to enjoy the pleasure or deny it, that was all that was left in his control.

Trembling legs spread further apart to allow Claudio more room. The husky chuckle from behind made Yuta’s stomach boil with shame that went straight to his cock. Eyes rolling back in his head as he finally accepted it. Moaning their names as he took Claudio’s cock over and over.

“He loves it,” Claudio commented, barely sounding out of breath in a tone more appropriate for small talk about the weather.

“Your cock does that to a motherfucker. Makes ‘em stupid for it.” Mox was practically panting and moaning himself. His voice was suddenly in Yuta’s ear. “I wanna keep you like this. Naked and vulnerable all the time. My prince being available to us 24/7.” The broken moan from Yuta spurred Mox on. “Claudio and I play with you whenever we want. We only let you out to go wrestle matches-- oh!”

The combo of dirty talk and brutal assault made Yuta come harder than he ever had. His brain conjured images of what Mox whispered to him. He went off untouched, ignored mostly. Everything was bright and soft and felt so good. The intense pleasure lasted and lasted, longer than he ever had before. Slowly Yuta came down, his body still being used without care that he’d just been fucked out of his body.

“Gonna keep him hard. Bet you can get him to come again.” Mox was just as turned on as Yuta was, their imaginations intertwining.

The hand on the younger man’s overstimulated cock was on the right side of miserable. It wasn’t fair, Mox knew every sensitive place on his young boy’s cock. Between the hand on his cock and Claudio still fucking him, Yuta stayed hard and horny.

“You wanna be our sex prince, sweetheart?” Mox nibbled on Yuta’s neck as he asked. The quiet sob followed by a nod made Mox laugh. “He does, C. He really does. Don’t worry, kid. Soon you’ll take your rightful place.”

“King--” Claudio’s voice was tight, moaning the title.

“Easy, big guy. We got time.” Mox signaled.

The pace of Claudio’s thrusts slowed down significantly. There seemed to be more planned. Yuta whined as loud as he could, needing or wanting more of whatever they would give at this point. There was a fire burning inside Yuta that the pseudo King was refusing to put out.

“Relax, bitch.” Mox grunted, squeezing hard on the hard shaft in his hand. “You’ve no idea how much work Claudio’s put in for all of this. Let him take his take, he deserves to feel good.”

“King?” Claudio’s voice sounded almost…needy. A certain embarrassed pitch to his voice.

Some sort of telepathic communication happened. Mox didn’t let go of Yuta’s aching cock but he did stand up straighter. They looked closely at each other until Mox smiled and nodded. Claudio quickly leaned forward until Mox could reach his lips. They kissed, except Mox was sinking his teeth into the flesh of Claudio’s mouth. Even drawing blood that was purposely smeared all over the Swiss man’s mouth.

The easy, slow pace made Yuta want to cry while he watched the affectionate violence. It was incredibly hot to watch the exchanges between the pair. Yuta didn’t have the best view but he was able to watch over his shoulder. Claudio hadn’t been holding him down anymore so he could roll his shoulder to actually see what was going on behind him.

Bloody kissing. Streaks of red shared between the two men. It reminded Yuta of Mox in the ring; kissing, biting, tearing. Mox in the ring with him. Those first forty seconds in the ring with the pseudo King drove Yuta to heights he didn’t know he had. The opportunity had been terrifying since Mox would clearly destroy Yuta but he had never felt so alive. Somehow he felt that in his moment.

“Fuck. Fuck. You’re so hot,” Mox growled against red lips.

“Everything I am is for you.” Claudio licked at the corner of Mox’s lip, swiping away a smear of blood.

“Hmph.” Yuta groaned, rolling his eyes at the exchange. His head fell forward with a thump, and he tried to roll his hips to get more friction from the hand there.

“I think our prince is feeling neglected.” Mox started working his hand again, making his young boy whine. “That’s my good boy, yeah? You’re gonna find your place soon. I promise.”

“He’s getting close,” Claudio commented, his hips working his rough but steady pace. “I can feel him tensing up.”

Yuta turned his head just enough to catch Mox’s icy blues. The sadistic smile under the ugly beard, the twinkle of violence. It was the moment Yuta realized that these two men weren’t actually that different. The entire time he was trying to convince himself that they weren’t the men he fell in love with, but he could see it. They weren’t that different, they just weren’t pretending anymore.

“Harder, babe.” Mox used his free hand to smack Claudio’s ass. “He needs it.”

The command was easily answered by Claudio, his feet shifting and leaning over his captive. Yuta cried out against the gag, his body aching as Claudio pounded into him. At least he could hear the Swiss man losing composure, breathing heavily and moaning.

Everything was on fire. Every feeling, every nerve, everything was becoming so much. Pained whimpers and cries were the only sounds he could make. It was all-consuming to Yuta, he felt like he was going to pass out. Every forceful thrust sent Yuta to the stars as everything melted together.

“Woah. He’s going limp.” Mox’s voice sounded so far away.

“I have him.” Claudio scooped their young boy up with his arm around the other’s waist.

While Yuta succumbed to the intensity and pain, he thought of Bryan. Everything was too much to fight against; shame pooled in Yuta as he wondered if Bryan would be able to fight this off. Was Yuta just too weak? Too easily coerced?

As Yuta’s vision started to go in and out he was vaguely aware of his body. Suddenly he was very aware of the tight coil inside of him that was about to snap. Claudio was punishing his ass, making sure every stroke rubbed against Yuta’s prostate until he was a whimpering mass of pleasured pain. The feeling of Claudio finally allowing his primal instincts to set in sent Yuta over.

The unforgiving hands and pace, the forced pleasure. Yuta was snapping and breaking and crumbling until there was nothing at all left. All the feeling, the sounds,and sights, all disappeared as Yuta came hard into Mox’s awaiting hand.

The final moment Yuta could remember was Mox wiping his hand over his young boy's face. Nothing left in the tank for Yuta to use to pull away or anything. It just happened. Semen scraping off onto his beard and skin.

Moments of lucidity came here or there. Yuta was pretty sure Claudio finished inside of him. The overflow trickling down his leg was evident when he came to in a pile on the floor. The sock was gone but he was still bound so he just closed his eyes so everything was faded to black. At some point Yuta knew that he was being hauled around, moved like the sack of potatoes.

Eventually there was a wetness that the young man could only assume was piss again. Another moment he chose to leave his lucidness behind. It was better to just check out at this point, Yuta figured. His brain was melting down. They were still playing with him in some ways and it was just too much anymore.

“Shh. No need to worry.” Mox’s soft voice would come in and out every so often. “Sleep well, sweet prince.”

Yuta did as he was told, drifting off to the least peaceful sleep.

+++

The entire world rushed back to Yuta in an instant. Someone was shaking him awake under blinding lights. His name was being called. All the fogginess from moments ago was starkly absent, there was no calm or horniness. The only thing Yuta felt was terror, panic, and violation.

Naturally the assaulting hand was grabbed. The motions were already flowing before Yuta realized what or who he was grabbing. Someone was grabbing him and he could finally fight back. Rushes and rushes of panic overwhelmed him until his eyes finally adjusted to reality.

“Wheeler, Wheeler, it’s okay.” The sweet nurse from earlier was passively moving with the wrestler’s hold, not yet causing distress. “I think you had a nightmare. You’re okay now.”

“Nightmare?” Yuta stared at her before looking around at the more crowded waiting room. Sun was coming in. “I’m--I’m so fucking sorry.”

As soon as Yuta’s brain allowed him to release the nurse, he did. Hands up to show he wasn’t a threat as he tried to step back only to find the bench. His heart was hammering out his chest, and the world was narrowing down.

“Wheeler, sweetie?” The nurse didn’t reach out but she moved back into the wrestler’s field of vision. “I think you’re having a panic attack. We can move to somewhere private. I just--” She made eye contact. “--Bryan’s okay. We’ll talk about it, but I just got word that he’s doing okay.”

“Bryan’s okay?” Yuta’s wild eyes darted around. “Can I--”

“We should calm down first, right?” She urged.

“...Yeah. You’re absolutely right. Yeah.” Yuta started to feel all the eyes on him. He started gathering up his stuff. Some teen nearby with an injured arm was staring.

“She’s right. You’ve been freaking out in your sleep for like five hours, dude. Are you tweaking?”

“What?” Yuta shook his head, glancing back at the nurse.

“Sir,” she stressed the word at the teen. “Mind your own business. That’s not appropriate. This way, Wheeler.”

None of Yuta’s emotions were lowering even as they got out of the crowded waiting room. The nurse quickly led them into a small private room that was more like a cubicle with medical equipment.

“Sit down for a moment. We triage patients here so it’ll be free for just a second. Do you have an anxiety disorder?” She sat the wrestler down and took the stool across from him.

“Kinda.” Yuta nodded, closing his eyes. “I--” He was far enough into the panic that he just started rifling through his backpack until he found the pill bottle.

“Here’s some water.” The nurse got a little cup to hand off.

“Thanks. Think my water bottle’s empty.” Yuta mumbled off-handedly as he took the cup and popped the pill.

It would take a few seconds to experience the effects of the Xanax, he quickly held the bottle out to the nurse for her to inspect. Mostly so she knew what was happening, after all Yuta had almost tried to break her wrist.

There were a few deep breathing techniques that Bryan had taught Yuta to help with anxiety and depression. So Yuta focused on doing that, and the memories of a smiling Bryan teaching him in the gardens while Yuta healed up.

“I uh…” Yuta glanced up at her as his breathing even out. “Not too long ago I had a really, like, really bad head injury. Recovering was…hard. There was a lot that was hard, but I wasn’t…” The heavy sigh broke up his statement. “I wasn’t ready for how it affected my mood. That gave way to panic attacks so…” He pointed at the pill bottle.

“Concussions can have a profound impact on your brain, and how you process or feel emotions. I’m very sorry, Wheeler.” She handed the bottle back. “Look, stress is a very serious thing. You experienced a traumatic event tonight, if your partner’s chart is anything to go by.”

“You’ve no idea…” Yuta muttered as he looked down at his clothes. At the club name stitched on his jacket.

“On top of that you spent the night sleeping in the chairs, you were in a match too, correct? Having a bad dream, or even a stress nightmare, and a panic attack is a pretty good response, I think.” She smiled at him. “If you were fine, I’d be worried.”

“Ha. Thanks.” Yuta bit his lip. “I’m just…still freaked out.”

“Can I ask what the nightmare was about?” she questioned.

“Uh…” Yuta shook his head a little, but opened his mouth to give the edited version. “The men that assaulted Bryan are close people to us. I just had a nightmare where they attacked me too. It was just so...vivid.”

“That’s terrible, I’m very sorry.” She shook her head, clearly feeling real empathy for the young man in front of her.

“I just…” Yuta shook his head, like that would rid himself of the seeds and half memories. “The more I think about it, the more I forget?” That was frustrating to him as he tried to recall things. Everything felt like water through his fingers. “It felt so real?”

Instead of remembering, Yuta tried to check himself over. There were the general aches and pains from his match. Nothing felt out of place like he’d been attacked. Heaving a sigh, Yuta slumped back and relaxed. The finer details blurred the harder he focused on them. Fleeting memories left his head.

“That sounds like a stress nightmare.” The nurse frowned, worrying that she was down playing something but also not wanting to push. “A lot of times it’s our brains processing what we’ve gone through. A vivid, horrible nightmare makes sense when you went through what you did.”

“Yeah…I guess.” Yuta nodded along.

Without thinking Yuta looked at his wrists. He knew Claudio loved bondage, it was a borderline fetish of his. There were probably only a handful of times they had sex where Claudio didn’t bind him in some way, shape or form. There were no marks on his wrists or arms. No evidence of that.

“What’re you looking for?” The nurse questioned, concern growing.

“I--” Yuta shrugged out of his jacket. “I don’t know?”

“Look, sweetie, Bryan’s in a normal room now. There’s a bed for family members up there. I think the best you can do is try to get a better bit of sleep.” The nurse suggested.

“I know you’re right. I just…have to like…there’s something…” Yuta frowned deeply. “I know you think I’m crazy, but you don’t know the people I’m dealing with which just sounds crazi--”

“You came in with a man who was asphyxiated with a plastic bag, violently, while you were held back. It’s not a crime because it was…like at your job, I guess, and you’re fighters. I don’t think you’re crazy, I think you’re in a crazy world.” She assured the young man.

“Thank…you?” Yuta wasn’t sure if that was empathy or a judgment. “Do I have any marks on my neck?”

There was a list of things that the young boy knew his two mentors really got off on. If last night happened for real, Yuta was sure to find the signs. Mox loved to chew on him and scratch up his back. That happened almost every time they were together. Yuta had to start having Claudio make sure none of the scratches or bites were too bad. Sometimes they needed bandages or medications.

“Nothing at all on your neck.” She moved to look around the collar of the young man’s shirt, leaning forward to even check down the back of his shirt. “No marks on your back other than bruises, but you told me you had these when you came in. I asked if you were okay and you said yeah, just bruised up from your match.”

“Okay…” Yuta was starting to feel crazy now. “I know you’re right. I just need some sleep. It was just a fuckin’ nightmare, but holy shit did it feel real.”

“It’s understandable. I promise.” She stood up right and held her arms out. “Would you like a hug?”

“Uh, sure? Thanks.” Yuta laughed a little at himself, feeling awkward and vulnerable but when they hugged it did…feel nice. It was good to feel connected to someone.

“No problem. Now, let’s get you up to your partner.” She smiled and pulled back the curtain.

As Yuta got his backpack up and reluctantly grabbed his jacket they made their way out. There was no use chasing the memories, Yuta thought to himself, or chasing the dream. He needed to sleep before he could possibly consider accessing more.

“If it helps you were in the chairs most the night. I checked on you.” The nurse shrugged, her hands in her pockets as she led the way. “You took off to walk around for a while, I remember. That was before my break.”

“You remember the night well?” Yuta frowned, thinking how he could pump her for a timeline without just directly asking her.

“I wouldn’t say handling it well. I’m on my second Celcius.” She laughed a little. “Okay, here’s the thing, I go out and hit my vape pen sometimes which is super against the rules. So when you left to walk around at like 1:30 or something, I went off on my break at like two. I figured you had a lot to walk off, I saw you walking the opposite way.”

“I walked for a long time, I think.” Yuta nodded along as she got them on the elevator.

“Yeah, so, I got back like an hour later, but you weren’t back yet. I checked the chairs to see if you were back, then went out to see if I saw you and secretly hit my vape. You were on a bench, so I thought you just didn’t want to be inside.” She explained while she found the right button to take them up. “I think you fell asleep out there, now that I’m talking about it.”

“When’d I get back to the waiting room?” Yuta didn’t remember going back.

“Uh…someone saw you walk in, called me over thinking you were a new patient but I said you were a family member that was waiting. My shift really bleeds together, Wheeler, so I’m sorry that I can’t remember exactly when to give you some peace of mind.” She sighed.

“Can you ballpark when I came in?” Yuta pressed then stopped, shrinking back in on himself. “I’m sorry I’m freaking out over a damn nightmare.”

“It’s okay. Um…if I had to guess? You came back at something close to 3:30AM or 4AM. I remember getting really busy for a while and that’s when you came back. You just slumped into the chairs and went to sleep.” She paused when the doors opened. “Sleepwalking is a common stress reaction.”

“Yeah…yeah. I think…” Yuta stepped out of the elevator. “I think you’re right that I sat down, I remember that, and I was tired and I fell asleep sitting out there. Then I just stumbled back inside to have my nightmare.” That was rational, Yuta nodded. He needed to live with that.

“Look, I don’t know exactly what’s going on but if you need anything just come find me. I’m on double shift today.” She rolled her eyes. “Your meds are working?”

“They are. I’m…calming down a lot.” Yuta thought for a moment, smacking his lips. “The dry mouth has set in, so I know it’s working.”

“I’m sure there’s some water you can find up here. Bryan’s just this way. I’ll check you in at this charge station up here.” She started walking them in the right direction.

Yuta cleared his throat, reaching back for his water bottle without thinking about it. The last time Yuta remembered the bottle was a little under half full. Something in the back of his mind convinced it should be empty, that it being empty would prove that there had been something that happened. As Yuta examined it he noticed how well the stickers were doing; except the cheap national park sticker he’d bought with Bryan despite being told it was cheap. The other stickers were doing well. Of course the edges were coming up on that one, Yuta rolled his eyes at himself.

The cap came off with ease. Yuta slowed himself down to stand back from where his friendly nurse was talking to the other nurses at the station. For some reason looking into the bottle heighted Yuta’s fear, but he didn’t know why. The bottle was just under halfway full. Exactly how he remembered it being back at the area.

Carefully Yuta decided to take a sip. His brain screamed not to. Again he didn’t know why exactly he was having so much anxiety around the water bottle. It wasn’t like any of the parts of the nightmare he could even remember had the water bottle in it.

The water was room temperature. Normal. It was strange, Yuta had been expecting something…something. He wasn’t sure what it was that he thought was going to happen. The water was normal. He sighed as he put the bottle back, his nurse turning to him with a big smile.

“Your new nurse is going to show you to Bryan’s room. Get some sleep, Wheeler.” She gave him a pat on his shoulder before leaving.

“Hi, I just wanted to walk you through some things and let you know how your partner is doing.” The new nurse started gabbering on.

It was important so Yuta forced himself to listen. All the tests and exams the doctors did came back with positive results. There didn’t seem to be any serious lasting damage, though Bryan was going to be on bedrest for a few days and in a lot of pain. The nurse went on to explain that Bryan was currently sedated so he could sleep, and that he was on some painkillers.

Each word was a relief. Not as much of a relief as the fact that there was a bed. The large private room was dark as Yuta came inside. Nestled neatly in bed was Bryan, looking peaceful in his sleep. The nurse let him go in by himself and get situated.

There was almost no situation. Yuta walked over to kiss Bryan’s forehead softly. He would have gone for the lips if not for the oxygen mask. One hand ran over Bryan’s chest just to feel him breathing and his heart thump. Even though the monitors showed it, Yuta had to feel for himself.

The pull out couch bed was already folded down. Blankets and pillows waiting. In no time Yuta had his shoes off, changed into shorts, and curled up into a ball under all the blankets. Already he was feeling better. The more distance from the nightmare the more he realized how impossible it’d have been for all of that to happen.

Even feeling better, and ready to rest, Yuta laid there. Shaking his head he quickly got his headphones out. One earbud in so he could hear if Bryan needed anything. As he was pulling the headphones out of his bag, he looked at his jeans he’d been in all night. They were a common pair he wore, familiar and exactly the same pants.

The pants didn’t smell like piss. Yuta remembered there being a wet feeling in his nightmare a lot, remembering just little fragments of piss. Nothing smelled like piss. As Yuta contemplated that revelation he fished his bottle of Xanax out of the pocket. Yuta put away the pants, rolling them up to feel for wet spots but finding none. The pants were shoved back into his backpack, clearly unspoiled.

Earbud in Yuta finally laid back down, thumbing scrolling over his phone in search of his music. He couldn’t stop himself from checking his t-shirt too. The shirt smelled normal too. Dry as a bone. It was all the exact same clothes he had been wearing all night. If he’d gotten that much piss or even just water on him there would be evidence on his clothes.

Just like there was no evidence of bondage, bite marks, or scratches. There wasn’t any evidence of piss. Honestly Yuta’s ass didn’t even hurt. The water bottle that he was sure would be empty was exactly the level he remembered it being at the area.

“Fuck me. I guess it was a stress nightmare.” Yuta finally relaxed into the bed, feeling some semblance of peace entering him as music finally played.

[slippinmickeys]

This is for @medicatedmaniac who asked for a Ficlet set in the Proof of Life Universe: “Proof of Life my beloved - maybe the leadup to the Pulitzer prize being awarded? Maybe the night of and their in their hotel room getting ready to go to the ceremony? Or they get a letter about being nominated in the mail and maybe have mixed feelings on the nomination?”

1. She gets caught as she stands on the threshold of the hotel room, déjà vu suddenly overlaying her vision like a slide into a projector. The window is in the same place. The desk. The carpet is the same, though cleaner. If she closed her eyes she would hear a spat of gunfire. She does not close her eyes.

“Scully?” says Mulder from behind her with a gentle hand on her upper back.

She has stayed in hotel rooms since being held hostage in Africa, but this one…this one has a layout so similar to the one in which she was held that her amygdala takes over her higher functions. For a moment. One moment. Then she swallows and forces herself to breathe again. Forces herself to calm.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Mulder whispers. He has come up more closely behind her, is looking over her shoulder into the room.

He is the only other person in the world who would get it, and does.

In a moment, the bags he was holding hit the floor and he brushes past her, marches into the room with purpose, directly to the desk, where he picks up the telephone receiver.

“I’m getting us a different room,” he says.

Scully swallows thickly and finally does close her eyes, breathing deeply through her nose. She does not hear gunfire. They are an ocean away from that place.

“Wait,” she says, then moves into the room herself. Stands in the center and takes a slow turn. Mulder, still standing at the desk, still holding the phone receiver in his hand, watches her.

She turns to him calmly, and, she thinks, with dignity.

“Before you call,” she says, “take my picture.”

“Take your-”

“Take my picture,” she says. “In front of the window.”

Mulder slowly lowers the phone. Glances at her. Glances at the window. She doesn’t have to explain what she means. He understands immediately.

“A journey of a thousand days,” he husks.

Scully nods. “The light,” she goes on, “is perfect.”

2. Africa again, but far east of the jungle mountains and lowlands besieged by war, they are now in the shadows of Kilimanjaro, the savannah stretching before them as paper unfurls from a scroll.

Scully is here for six months, the resident doctor in a rural hospital built and supplied by a Canadian charity. She treats diseases long dead in the First World west, urges the women to collect water from the new well six miles away rather than the river that is only two.

She has a local guide and contact who works for the charity, a lanky Maasai man who goes by the Christian name of James. He wears ropes of delicate and colorful beads and a lion's tooth on a cord around his neck. Under his red tunic he wears a white Hanes wifebeater and sandals made of old tires. He is missing a tooth on the side of his smile, which he is also always wearing.

“Good morning, Doctor,” he says in his friendly accent when she emerges from the clinic door to see if there is anyone waiting for treatment.

“Jambo!” Scully says at a volume and enthusiasm which makes her uncomfortable. She would rather a quiet hello and nod, but the culture she is living in necessitates jovial greetings at all times.

James is leaning against a post just beyond clinic porch and holding a spear which means he was likely out in the bush.

“Have you seen Mulder?” she asks.

“Yes,” he says. “He got a call. He asked me to come and get you.”

At this, Scully raises her eyes. Cell phone reception is spotty here at best. She hasn’t bothered to carry her phone with her in weeks. Mulder always has his out in the field, but the clinic is in a dead zone and there’s really no point.

James pulls his own cell phone out of a pouch that’s looped around his waist. He presses a button and hands it to her.

“Scully?” says a tinny voice punctuated by static. She puts the phone to her ear.

“Mulder?”

“Scully,” Mulder says. “Call Benjamin and Savato, tell them we have to leave early.” He explains his statement in a rush and Scully is dumbfounded when she silently hands the phone back to James.

He nods at her and steps back respectfully. When she’s halfway through the door of the clinic, she comes back to herself and spins around.

“James!” She calls out. “How does your phone work here?”

James smiles widely, showing the gap in his mouth.

“Magic,” he says.

3. The day is sullen; gray and without cheer. Outside the window, the rain comes down in a defenestrating assault.

In the bright doorway of the bathroom — they have a top floor suite — Mulder stands, struggling with the knot of a bow tie.

“Monkey suit,” he says, a little whiny.

Scully smiles and walks up to him, the silk sheath dress she’s wearing whispering as she moves. She’s not wearing heels yet and has to tilt her head back to look up at him.

“It’s only for an evening,” she says, reaching up and taking over the knotting. “And if the big mucks at Columbia hear you complaining, they might take back your award.”

Mulder lifts his chin to give her more room to work. After a moment she feels his warm hands settle on her waist.

“There,” she says, straightening his bow tie. His hands stay where they are.

“Does it feel weird?” He asks her quietly. “To be here? For this?”

She pulls a stray hair — hers — from his white sleeve.

“A little,” she says.

4. “…for fairly obvious reasons, the areas of arts of scholarly arenas live close to my heart and lived experience. Over these two decades, so much has changed in our world. And we all know those changes have had huge impacts on journalism, the arts and scholarship. But three things have remained true. One, is that we value these roles of journalism, the arts and scholarship, and that has remained central to a good life. Personally, socially and politically. The second is that good and talented people continue to join these professions. And the third is that the Pulitzer Prizes annually provide the world with the occasion like tonight, to honor and celebrate these critically important areas of human endeavor, and the people who perform at the highest levels in them…”

The speaker continues to drone on. Scully pushes the remainder of her short rib around on her plate. Mulder has barely touched his fish.

The picture of Scully standing in the window of room 1055 at the Hilton has been projected on a giant screen behind the podium for the last several minutes, and Scully can feel the eyes of the gathered assemblage flitting to her on a near constant basis.

They’re probably thinking of her trauma, of her experience, and they have most certainly read the stories that were breathlessly published about her and Mulder. Most of them have seen up close and personal the ravages of war and upheaval. There are several journalists she knows here, acquaintances she left behind when she resigned from CNN. Most of them approached before the ceremony and politely inquired about her, her health, what she was up to now. Many with a sad, pitying look on their faces.

She sets down her fork and turns the wedding ring around in circles on her finger. She doesn’t feel pity when she looks at that picture. The look on that woman’s face displays nothing but courage, and the eye behind the camera nothing but love.

When Mulder heads up to the stage a moment later to be handed the certificate he won, the applause that spreads through the room is thunderous. His eyes never once leave hers.

5. The lobby of the auditorium is thick with people and humidity, joyous voices rising up over the static of tires sloshing over rainy streets just beyond the front doors. They’ve been back in the States for a week, but Scully still isn’t used to the crowds. The noise.

From behind her, Mulder touches the bare skin of her shoulder. He’s just returned from the coat check and holds up the red wool coat she’d had to buy at Nordstrom two days before. She puts her arms through the silken sleeves.

All around them winners and colleagues and friends are making plans to go out and celebrate their accomplishments. One man in a charcoal suit has a bottle of Veuve in his hand that he swiped off of one of the tables. Several people have invited them to join them.

Mulder tips his head to whisper in her ear.

“We can slip out right now when no one’s looking,” he says.

She doesn’t even wait to answer, using her small stature to slip in between several people and out into the cold damp.

They’ve been provided a town car and driver for the evening, but it’s too hard to find him in the chaos outside the auditorium, so they hail a cab instead. Once they’re on their way back to their hotel, Mulder pulls the certificate out from under his coat where it was sheltered from the rain and looks at it.

“I’m starving,” he says to the piece of paper.

“You barely ate,” Scully points out.

“I was nervous,” he explains.

Scully takes the certificate gently from his hands and looks at it. The gold foil. The calligraphy.

“If we call in a room service order now, it should be to our room by the time we get out of the shower,” she says.

“God I love you,” Mulder says reverently.

They gorge themsevles on cheeseburgers and truffle fries, and, on a whim, a bottle of champagne (Mumm’s rather than Veuve, as, Mulder points out, he isn’t about to spend his prize money on booze) as they sit around in fluffy white robes with HBO on mute on the big TV in the corner.

On the desktop, under their room key, sits the Pulitzer certificate.

“That’s as much yours as it is mine,” Mulder finally says to her, nodding towards it.

“Yes,” she agrees, and sets a half full glass of bubbles on the bedside table. She reaches for the terry cloth tie of his robe.

Later, it’s all soft sighs on soft sheets and Mulder fills her with himself until they become each other.

[brown-little-robin]

Clown asks: Legacy, Certificate, and Aww for Kid Kandy, Jugglette, No-Go, and Stark

Thanks for the ask! <3 Here you go, and here is the premise in case anyone wants to refer to it.

Kid Kandy

Legacy - Who was their parent, and why did they create the clown persona the way they did?

Kid Kandy's parent was a ten-year-old rodeo clown named Thomas. Thomas was born into the rodeo, grew up around cowboys and horses and bulls; his mother was a ranch hand and his father was a rodeo clown. Now, rodeo clowns travel from rodeo to rodeo all season long, so Thomas's dad wasn't going to see as much of his son as he would have liked. But, happily, Thomas showed an early and intense interest in being a rodeo clown, so his dad sometimes took him out as a little partner clown! NOT for the dangerous bullfighting, just for the entertainment between rodeo events. "Kid Kandy" was the persona Thomas came up with at nine years old so that he could be with his dad.

Thomas created "Kid Kandy" to entertain, too, of course! He loved being clever and silly in his eye-watering yellow/red/white clown outfit, and he liked how he could exaggerate his personality for laughs as "Kid Kandy".

Certificate - What is their most prized possession, and what do they do with it?

Kid Kandy's most prized possession? That would actually be his certificate! Lore time: all clowns appear holding a certificate. It gives the clown's birthday and name, with a picture and a description of that clown's unique makeup. It's a very important document, legally. The certificate proves that a clown is who they claim they are and gives them access to various legal protections.

As a "child" clown, (with all the intelligence and function of an adult but in a little body), Kid Kandy is often dehumanized, treated as either a clown freak or a poor human baby. Thomas's family offered him a place with them, and he refused. He is NOT touching that pile of grief. He is NOT living where everyone looking at him sees a dead ten-year-old human. He's in a clown shelter, for now, until he can find somewhere to work. And the certificate is his proof of personhood. His body will grow, eventually, he sure hopes—there's precedent for it among "child" clowns—but in the meantime it's very reassuring to have a document that declares him not a human child, but a clown. The certificate is his assurance that he is what he's meant to be.

He keeps his certificate (laminated) in the back pouch of a very high-quality miniature leather briefcase with Thomas's mother's ranch logo embossed on it. Beside his certificate rests a photograph of Thomas's father with two phone numbers (mother and father) written on the back of it. Just in case.

Aww - What's something charming/cute about this clown?

Kid Kandy? It would be cheap to say he's cute because he looks like a ten-year-old. He absolutely is cute, of course. But that's so wrapped up in pain that I'll pick something else.

He dispenses physical affection with equal easiness as he dispenses play-injury. He walks with a swagger and lashes out with steel-toed boots, but he also snuggles up to his friends without impunity on movie nights. He's the kind of friend who Can And Will punch you to express how awful your puns are.

Jugglette

Legacy - Who was their parent, and why did they create the clown persona the way they did?

Jugglette's parent, Melissa, was a juggalette, which is a term for a female juggalo—a committed fan of the Insane Clown Posse, a (very adult, I don't recommend their music sldkfjslkdjf) rap/hip hop duo who wear scary clown makeup. Juggalos are a whole subculture, it's a thing. Anyway, Melissa was sponsored by the U.S. Army to create a scary clown persona. I don't blame her for doing it. The military contacted her when she was in a dark place physically and mentally, funded her addiction recovery and therapy for the rest of her life, plus her college education (she became an electrical line worker)! Melissa loved rap and dogs and the Percy Jackson book series; her favorite flower was dandelions, and she had a good singing voice and a fantastic laugh. She got married and had two kids and lived to a pretty decent age.

Melissa created "Jugglette" out of her own pain and her love for the color purple and the fantasy of having power. It was fun. She played "Jugglette" for private audiences for ten years. She quit knowing that ten years was more than enough time to make sure a clown would appear when she died. Melissa was intermittently guilty about basically creating a person to send into military service all her life. But she was doing what she had to, and anyway, "Jugglette" was going to be more scary and powerful and strong than Melissa ever was.

...still, Melissa had some regrets.

Certificate - What is their most prized possession, and what do they do with it?

Jugglette's most prized possession is a letter Melissa left her in her will. She keeps it rolled up inside a bullet she wears on a necklace. She used to read the letter often, but at this point she has it memorized and the paper is getting worn out, so mostly it lives in the bullet now, undisturbed.

Aww - What's something charming/cute about this clown?

Oh gosh, I don't know if this will be cute to anyone but me, but Jugglette has a very loud, not-unpleasantly harsh voice, and she likes to sneak up on people and go WHOOP WHOOP!! very loud.

She also just. talks. all. the. time. Absolute chatterbox.

No-Go

Legacy and Certificate are answered for No-Go here! His parent was a carpet clown in a circus, and his most important possessions are the pictures of his parent both in and out of clown costume.

Aww - What's something charming/cute about this clown?

No-Go's best friend is a human man named Dean Este who No-Go refers to, completely platonically, as "Dearest". It was a joke, originally, about masculinity and the name Dean Este, and about No-Go's odd, almost too-intimately-honest yet deadpan way of showing his affection for people. But it stuck. It's No-Go and Dearest for life, now, and if No-Go ever gets married his wife will just have to be in on the joke.

Stark

(preface: a Stark overview can be found here!)

Legacy - Who was their parent, and why did they create the clown persona the way they did?

Stark's parent was a normal, humble guy who went to church and to his 9-to-5 and to the hospital to do clowning in rotation. He created the clown persona of "Storks" to help kids who were hurting. It wasn't escapist, for him, and it wasn't about the jokes. It was just selfless. Kids like clowns, he figured, somewhat wrongly (but he learned!), so he'd just go be a clown. The joy of being "Storks" came slowly to Roger, in moments, when people laughed for him, when he slowly became delighted with the tricks he'd done a hundred times. Roger made his clown persona a full whiteface, greasepaint right up to his hairline and down to his neck, because he didn't want people to recognize him, Roger, under the paint, or to think of him as a person. He just wanted to help distract people who were in pain.

Roger wasn't worried about his future clown "offspring". He left 'im a good inheritance and all. He figured Storks would be able to get on his own two feet and be proud of where he came from.

Certificate - What is their most prized possession, and what do they do with it?

A keychain that his ex-girlfriend gave him as a breakup present. (They were better as friends, they both agreed on that; the breakup was mutual and amicable and accompanied with breakup presents from both of them.) The keychain says Yours Forever with a silly amount of glittery pink hearts. (Stark gave her a His and Hers pillow set and she laughed so hard she cried.) Stark keeps the keychain on his car keyring. It still makes him grin sometimes.

They are still friends. Just to make that clear. <333

Aww - What's something charming/cute about this clown?

He's old-fashioned in several very funny little ways, including firmly believing in "early to bed and early to rise". He likes seeing the sunrise, and he likes going to bed Early. Also, he prefers to use physical mail and written paperwork as much as possible as opposed to, say, email and online forms. He's a little bit pedantic about it.

Also, he still really, really likes kids :')

[atplblog]

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[andrewwilliams879461]

Style and Function Combined: Crossbody iPhone Cases Unveiled

In the ever-evolving world of smartphone accessories, one particular category has risen to the forefront, seamlessly blending style and functionality – the crossbody iPhone case. These innovative accessories have revolutionized the way we carry and interact with our devices, catering to the diverse needs and preferences of modern iPhone users.

The Rise of Crossbody iPhone Cases

The increasing popularity of crossbody iPhone cases can be attributed to the growing demand for hands-free convenience and personalized style. As our smartphones have become integral to our daily lives, the need for a secure and accessible solution for carrying them has become more pressing. Enter the crossbody iPhone case – a versatile accessory that not only protects your device but also frees up your hands for other tasks.

These cases have transcended their purely practical origins, evolving into fashion-forward accessories that allow users to express their personal style. Manufacturers have recognized this trend and have responded by introducing a wide array of designs, materials, and color options to cater to diverse preferences and lifestyles.

Exploring the Diverse Offerings

Crossbody iPhone cases come in a vast array of styles and configurations, each catering to the unique needs and preferences of modern consumers. Let's dive into the different categories and explore their distinct features:

Minimalist Chic: For those who favor a clean and sophisticated aesthetic, minimalist crossbody iPhone cases offer a refined and elegant solution. These cases often feature simple silhouettes, neutral color palettes, and high-quality materials such as genuine leather or durable nylon, creating a timeless and versatile look.

Sporty and Active: Crossbody iPhone cases designed for active lifestyles prioritize functionality and durability. These cases typically feature water-resistant or sweat-proof materials, adjustable straps, and secure closure systems to ensure your device remains safe and accessible during physical activities like hiking, running, or cycling.

Fashion-Forward Designs: Recognizing the growing demand for stylish and on-trend accessories, some manufacturers have introduced crossbody iPhone cases with bold, fashion-forward designs. These options may incorporate vibrant colors, unique patterns, or eye-catching hardware, transforming the humble phone case into a true statement piece.

Multipurpose Versatility: Certain crossbody iPhone cases offer enhanced versatility by incorporating additional storage compartments or features. These may include built-in card slots, zippered pockets, or even removable pouches, allowing users to carry not only their phones but also essential everyday items like keys, cash, or ID cards.

Customizable Options: To cater to the personalization preferences of modern consumers, some brands offer crossbody iPhone cases with customizable elements. Users may be able to select the strap length, choose from a variety of color options, or even incorporate their own monogram or custom artwork, making each case a truly one-of-a-kind accessory.

The Benefits of Crossbody iPhone Cases

Beyond their fashionable appeal, crossbody iPhone cases provide a range of practical benefits that enhance the user experience. Let's explore some of the key advantages:

Hands-Free Convenience: The crossbody design of these cases frees up your hands, allowing you to engage in various activities without the burden of constantly holding or securing your phone. This can be particularly beneficial for tasks such as navigating crowded spaces, carrying groceries, or participating in sports and outdoor pursuits.

Improved Accessibility: With your phone securely positioned on your chest or abdomen, crossbody iPhone cases make it easy to access your device quickly and efficiently. Whether you need to respond to a call, check a notification, or use a specific app, the readily available positioning of the phone can save you time and increase your overall productivity.

Enhanced Security: Crossbody iPhone cases provide an additional layer of security, reducing the risk of your device being lost, stolen, or accidentally dropped. The adjustable strap and secure closure systems ensure your phone remains firmly in place, giving you peace of mind in a variety of environments.

Optimal Device Protection: Many crossbody iPhone cases incorporate protective features, such as reinforced construction or shock-absorbing materials, to safeguard your device from scratches, impacts, and other potential sources of damage. This can be particularly valuable for individuals with active lifestyles or those who frequently travel.

Versatility and Adaptability: Crossbody iPhone cases can be worn in a variety of ways, from the traditional chest positioning to alternative placements on the back or side of the body. This versatility allows users to find the most comfortable and convenient carrying option based on their specific needs and preferences.

Top Picks for Crossbody iPhone Cases

To help you navigate the vast array of crossbody iPhone cases available, we've curated a selection of our top picks, each offering a unique blend of style, functionality, and versatility:

The Minimalist Chic: A sleek and sophisticated crossbody iPhone case crafted from high-quality genuine leather, featuring a slim profile and adjustable strap for a customized fit.

The Adventure-Ready: A rugged and water-resistant crossbody iPhone case with reinforced construction, designed to withstand the demands of active outdoor pursuits.

The Multifunctional Maven: A crossbody iPhone case with additional storage compartments for cards, cash, and other essential items, perfect for the on-the-go individual.

The Personalized Favorite: A customizable crossbody iPhone case that allows you to choose from a variety of strap colors and even add your own monogram or design for a truly unique accessory.

The Fashion Statement: A bold and eye-catching crossbody iPhone case that incorporates stylish elements like metallic hardware, geometric patterns, or vibrant hues to make a statement with your everyday carry.

Conclusion

Crossbody iPhone cases have emerged as a transformative accessory, seamlessly blending style and functionality to enhance the modern user's lifestyle. These versatile cases not only provide hands-free convenience but also offer a range of practical benefits, from improved security to optimal device protection. As technology and design continue to converge, the crossbody iPhone case has become an indispensable companion for individuals seeking to navigate the world with ease, confidence, and a touch of personal style.Whether you're an adventurous explorer, a busy professional, or simply someone who values the freedom of hands-free mobility, the top picks we've highlighted offer a diverse selection of crossbody iPhone cases to suit your unique needs and preferences. Embrace the power of exploration and discover the transformative impact of this innovative accessory on your daily life.

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This is a must have for a beach or pool trip, for your phone or anything important you need to keep on your person and keep from getting ruined. You simply put your phone, money, keys, passport in the pouch, and use the two swivel latches at the top to seal it. The pouch is water proof, sand proof, snow proof and scratch resistant. You can even use the touch screen through the pouch except underwater where you will need to use your button controls to take pictures. Worry about fun on the beach instead of your belongings! Just click the link above, shop & enjoy!🌊

[cornstarchbags]

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[its-faizurbd-me]

Njjex Waterproof Phone Pouch For iPhone 11 Pro Max 11 XS XR Samsung Galaxy Note 20 Ultra 10+ 9 A01 A10E A11 A20 A21 A30

[godkilller]

A LIST OF ITEMS GIN HAS ON HIS PERSON: ( at any given time, varying verses / aus )

RUKONGAI VERSE:

dried persimmons

thin wire rolled up

a small sharp rock

one nearly depleted roll of bandages

THIRD SEAT VERSE:

dried persimmons

Shinso

a roll of bandages

ointment for cuts

water canteen

coin pouch

that one thing Rangiku misplaced and is probably looking for

LIEUTENANT VERSE:

dried persimmons

Shinso

Fifth Division Lieutenant badge

a roll of bandages

water canteen

Aizen’s kiseru

coin pouch

spare pens

that one thing Rangiku misplaced and is probably looking for

a glasses-cleaning cloth

a simple fan

cat treats

at least five letters from admirers of Aizen that were given for Gin to pass along

a pocket-sized journal for scheduling

a set of matches to burn the letters with

a small kit for cleaning a sword, mainly a cloth to wipe blood from it

CAPTAIN VERSE:

dried persimmons

Shinso

Third Division Captain haori

water canteen

Aizen’s kiseru

coin pouch

a small kit for cleaning a sword

spare pens

that one thing Rangiku misplaced and is probably looking for

a simple fan

cat treats

probably a cat

ARRANCAR ARC:

Shinso

water canteen

Aizen’s kiseru

a small kit for cleaning a sword

a simple fan

Caja Negacion

REDEMPTION VERSE:

Shinso ( if permitted )

Kido bracelet reiatsu seal / tracker

Third Division Captain haori ( eventually )

dried persimmons

water canteen

Aizen’s kiseru ( yes, he found it and kept it )

a simple fan

bottle of pain medication

that one thing Rangiku misplaced and is probably looking for

cat treats

probably a cat

FAILURE VERSE:

Shinso

dried persimmons

water canteen

Aizen’s kiseru ( yes, he found it and kept it )

a simple fan

a roll of bandages

Caja Negacion

black glove

Tattered reiatsu-concealing cloak

HITMAN AU:

several guns

several knives

car keys / motorcycle keys / apartment keys / armory keys

pack of cigarettes

lighter

bullet-proof vest

trip-wire

burner phone

phone

a roll of bandages

black gloves

wallet

secondary wallet

VAMPIRE AU:

his charming personality

black gloves

wallet

phone

ancient dark relic empowering his magic

HELL VERSE:

Shinso

suffering

[kitchenscene]

four a.m. [2.9k] buck follows the rain, so eddie follows buck, wherever he may lead

read on ao3

The firehouse carries a heaviness to it after a particularly long shift. The team packs their bags, heads turned down, trying to shuffle home to find some sense of comfort. Security. B-crew starts to roll in with all the enthusiasm in the world and Eddie wishes he could borrow just an ounce of that energy. Enough to carry himself home, lift his eyes up just long enough to drive without drifting to sleep. 

Call after call, the team couldn’t catch a break. Electrical fire, two girls caught in a web of barbed wire, and a five car pileup. No chance to slip into the bunks, steal leftovers from the fridge, or take a momentary breath before the alarm rings. It’s a miracle they could still stand, let alone walk from the truck to the locker room after their last call. 

Eddie slips into the shower, wanting to immediately fall into bed when he gets home. The warmth nearly lulled him to sleep. The station never sounded so quiet. All he can hear is water dripping along the tiles, spiraling to the drains, and the slow, tapping movement of feet outside the showers. He stands still, watching the water run clear until it starts to burn cold. 

He steps out, sliding the curtain aside, dawning a fresh pair of sweats and an LAFD longsleeve. The navy blue sleeves, two sizes too large, bunch at the wrists, slipping past his fingertips. The soft fabric grounds him, he pulls the cotton tight in his hands. Freshly washed and warm.

The locker room stands silent, no laughter to echo off the glass walls, no movement filling the space. Dirt and ash trails along the concrete, leaving random footprints and smudges anywhere they could reach. Smoke lingers in the air, rising high. Tomorrow the smell would vanish, leaving no memory of the day. But for now it burns, leaving a tattoo heavy on his chest.

B-crew paces through the station, the hectic day coming to a halt as soon as they arrived. The alarm never rings. Eddie wishes it would. 

His bag sits on the bottom shelf. The crew is gone, having all gone home for the day. His bag should sit alone on that bottom shelf, waiting to be carried away. 

But Buck’s bag sits beside his, car keys still shining inside, phone left locked in one side pouch. 

He glances around the room, waiting for Buck to appear, as if the weight of the day could’ve somehow blinded him from the sight of his best friend. 

Outside the locker room he’s nowhere to be seen. B-crew works quietly, cleaning, restocking, gentle conversations. They mumble good mornings—it’s nearly four a.m.—and sip their warm coffees. He’s jealous at the ease they’re able to take, his own morning filled with wet hair and heavy eyes. 

The loft is empty, the silence echoes, almost painfully. He’s never seen the kitchen so clean, so mellow and silent. No steaming pans, no shuffling plates, no grabbing hands. The lights glow softly, waiting for the next chef to pry open the pantry, but for now, the cupboards remain shut, locked away tight, no sign of Buck to be found.

He looks up from the edge of the loft, over the railings. The garage doors are wide open, the soft pattering of rain can be heard, but only just. It dances across the pavement, spilling inside the firehouse, leaving only wet footprints in its wake. The night darkens the sky, grey clouds tracing overhead. It’s almost peaceful, a welcomed end to a hectic day. But then he remembers Buck, nowhere to be seen. Buck, who, of course, could never simply witness a peaceful moment like this. Buck, who, naturally, would want to be up close, feeling the cold rain in his hands, on his skin, anywhere he could find it. 

It seems obvious now; Eddie would never find Buck inside the station when there’s so much more to be said outside. A quiet, pouring night to end the bustling, restless day. Buck would follow the pour, follow the only sound to be heard. His eyes would brighten at the sight of it, despite the restlessness of the day. 

He follows the stairs, follows the trail of mud that seems so obvious in retrospect. Follows it all the way up to the roof, away from the firehouse, away from the day they desperately needed to leave behind. 

Eddie pulls his sleeves tighter, shivering at the sudden chill the fresh air gave. Raindrops stain his soft shirt and trail down his spine. 

From the roof, he could see it all. The moon, half full, glowing softly, brightly in the dark from behind the grey, swirling clouds. It wasn’t so heavy, up here, all the weight feeding into the drainage pipes. The water washes across the concrete, leaving the air fresh, clean, new. City lights flicker in the distance, proof of a bustling life, even so long after sunset. He could barely see the rain, barely watch it fall, but he could see Buck. 

Buck, who stood to the sky without a care. Buck, soaked in the rain, t-shirt pressed tight to his chest and boots logged with water. Buck, with his damp curls and bright smile, facing Eddie, inviting him forward. 

Eddie, arms crossed, shivering, hiding at the edge of the roof under the only cover he could manage to find. Eddie, watching Buck, but only from a distance. Eddie, with his flattened hair and heavy eyes, who couldn’t help but smile back. 

“Buck, what’re you doing up here? Shift ended…” he twists his arm, checking his watch, “half an hour ago.”

“It’s raining,” Buck says, as if Eddie couldn’t see the clouds above. 

He watches Buck, who looks back and forth between him and the sky, the twenty-ish feet between them feeling too far away. Come home, he wants to say.

“It’s late, you shouldn’t be up here,” he says instead.

“Neither should you.” Buck shifts back and forth slightly, splashing the rain by his feet. Eddie uncrosses his arms, letting his sleeves fall. 

He’s tempted by the rain, by Buck’s wonder. It would be far too easy to follow him to the edge of the roof, shoulders brushing as they watch the rain. The rain, so cold, but it wouldn’t matter because Buck would be there, warm and bright. So easily, he could drop his arm around his waist and pull him close, savouring a moment he would pretend to regret the next morning. 

He could never regret it, not really. Buck, with his never ended kindness, would never hurt Eddie, he needs to trust this. Needs to trust that he is not alone in his feelings. He needs to trust Buck to stop him before he ruins this, ruins this perfect moment on the roof. 

But it’s four a.m., and no good choices have ever been made so early in the day.

“You should go home. When’s the last time you slept?” Eddie asks, genuinely concerned.

“Even if I was at the apartment, I wouldn’t be sleeping,” he says, “I would be doing this. The only difference is I’d be doing it alone.”

The sentiment weighs on his chest; he’s not alone on this rooftop. It would be so easy to step into the rain and lay himself bare. To spill everything he has and let it wash away. 

Buck takes a few steps closer, closing the mileage between them. He’s still too far away. But Eddie can’t move, can’t take those small steps forward, away from the only dry patch of the roof, away from the safety of the wall behind him. 

“Come on,” he offers, “it’s just rain.”

But it’s not just rain, not to Eddie. There shouldn’t be anything different about this day other than the weather. Today, like every other day, he drove himself to the firehouse, worked side-by-side with Buck, and tried to keep himself from speaking his mind. 

This, here, on the roof, is something they’ve been building towards for a while. He’s certain—nearly certain—that Buck wants this too. He’s never shied away from the brush of a hand, or a hug that lasted a few seconds too long. He’s held onto Eddie, as if at any moment, he would disappear, and Eddie wants nothing more than to promise he’ll never leave. 

“What do you have to lose?” Buck asks, with a lightness around him. 

Everything. 

If he steps too far, if he reads this wrong, he’ll lose Buck. He’ll lose everything. He’ll lose a partner, a best friend, the only pillar he’s ever allowed himself to lean on. Buck has been there since day one, latching onto Eddie, planting roots in his heart and refusing to leave. If he ruins this, he’ll lose everything.

Buck holds out his hands, begging Eddie to reach out, take the leap. But Buck is still twenty feet away, and it’s still four a.m. 

He sees those hands and the water curving around them. Wet hair dripping in those blue eyes, pressing against his forehead. Those blue eyes he can barely make out from so far away, but he knows them well enough to feel their brightness even from afar. 

And he can’t deny the fact that it is, just rain falling around them, as Buck said. But it’s late and he’s tired and it would be far too easy to fall into Buck’s embrace. If he held that hand extended towards him, he may never let go, and when Buck pulls away, as Eddie believes he will, it will ruin the rain forever. Every drop will remind him of this; a moment that could’ve been. 

“Buck…”

“I’ll wait here all night,” he says, arms open wide, “where’s the fun in standing all the way over there, anyways?”

It’s four a.m., it’s raining. Somewhere downstairs, the alarm rings, the trucks file out, one at a time, and for the first time they’re alone, truly alone. And Eddie’s too tired to hold back anymore.

He steps forward, into the rain, takes the leap. Buck is there, always has been, grinning as Eddie steps forward, arms unfolding. He was the one who followed Buck to the roof in the pouring rain. It’s inevitable that they’d end up here, standing together.

Buck takes his hand, strong and calloused, but gentle to the touch, and pulls him farther than he would’ve walked on his own. Up close, he can see the rain drops pressed to his arms, around every muscle. His shirt, entirely soaked through, clinging tight around his torso. He’s spent all night outside, in the rain, yet he never shivers under it’s touch. 

“See? Not so bad,” Buck laughs, and Eddie can’t stop his own grin from forming. He wants to pull away, go inside, go home. Hide away from his touch, pretend he feels nothing. But Buck is here. He has to stay here. Buck turns towards the horizon, but Eddie still watches Buck.

“I still don’t get why you’re up here.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You’re gonna catch a cold, or something.” He tries to ignore Buck’s grip, still tight against his hand, and tries to slip into something lighter. An easy conversation without any real meaning to avoid what will inevitably become of this night—morning, rather.

Buck turns back to Eddie, eyebrow tilted. The rain drips around his eyes, still bright, still blue. “That’s not actually a thing, is it? I’m pretty sure that’s not a thing.”

“Either way, you’re soaking wet, and probably freezing,” he offers, hiding his worry behind a bit of laughter. 

“I’m not freezing,” Buck holds Eddie’s free hand, pressing the back of it to his forehead, as if checking for a fever. He drops his wrist, but Eddie doesn’t move his hand. “See? Not freezing.”

Eddie turns his hand to push the wet hair away from Buck’s forehead, before sliding his hand down to rest on his cheek, his thumb wiping a raindrop away from his eye, tracing his cheekbone. 

Buck doesn’t pull away. Rather, he leans into the touch, still smiling, his hand slipping out of Eddie’s and tracing up his arm. He shivers at the touch, knowing there’s no way he can slip out of Buck’s grasp. Not when he finally knows what it’s like to be so close. 

“Yeah,” he says, not knowing how to fill the air, “not freezing. But you’re still soaked.” It’s barely a whisper, he’s close enough to speak softly and still be heard. 

“So are you.” 

“And whose fault is that?”

“You can’t blame me for the rain,” Buck says, pulling him closer, toe to toe, knees nearly knocking and hands holding steady. It would be entirely too easy to bridge the gap, to latch on a cut the tension hanging in the air. 

Eddie says nothing, he can barely breathe. He rests his free hand on Buck’s waist hesitantly, giving him every opportunity to pull away, to stop him before he goes too far. 

He can hear the rain, he can hear Buck’s breathing, soft and steady, and he can hear his own heart, skipping beats in his chest. It’s entirely too loud, and Buck could almost certainly feel it, the unsteady beating of his heart. 

“But you brought me up here,” Eddie whispers, “I can at least blame you for that.”

“I didn’t expect you to follow me,” Buck admits, “but I was kinda hoping you would.”

He tries to analyze it, pull apart Buck’s words to find meaning in it all, some type of confirmation that he’s not alone in his feelings, that Buck wants him too. This, to Eddie, is as close as he’ll ever get. There’s so much to be said, but he’ll never find the words to say it all. 

“You’re thinking too much,” Buck says, pulling him out of his head. “Whatever you’re trying to say, just say it.”

“I don’t think I can…” His hand, still resting on Buck’s cheek, slides down to his jaw. He looks between Buck’s eyes, his gaze landing on his mouth before leading back up to the thumb grazing his cheekbone. 

“It has to be you,” he says, resting his free hand on Eddie’s hip. “You have to take the leap.”

It’s all the assurance he needs that Buck wants this too. But even still, he struggles to close the final inches between them, something in his head still convincing him he’ll lose everything. 

He has to trust that Buck would never lead him astray. That if he takes this leap, Buck will be there to take the next. He’ll be there when he wakes up, leaving Eddie with proof that this is not a dream, and they’ll move forward together, taking every leap after that. He has to believe that Buck will always be there for him, just as he will be there for Buck. 

But first he needs to take this leap. Buck nods, only slightly, as if reassuring him that he wants this too. 

He moves slowly, still doubting himself, using Buck’s hand as an anchor to hold him steady. The rain only falls heavier, letting Eddie fall with it right into Buck’s arms. Buck is warm. He’s freezing, but his touch is still warm. He’s freezing but he doesn’t care. The rain, the sirens, the clouds, none of it matters because he’s so close to finally grasping what he’s always wanted. 

There’s hardly space between them, mere centimeters keeping them apart. There’s no room for doubt, no room to change his mind. 

So he falls, finally lets himself fall. He closes the gap between their lips, tilting his head up, and lets himself fall. And Buck is there, he always has been, to catch him, hold him up, pull him close. He kisses Buck slowly, softly, as if he’ll disappear. The rain showers over them, but he can barely feel it. All he feels is Buck, pulling him by the hem of his shirt impossibly closer and his hand tracing up his arms to rest on Eddie’s shoulder, gripping the fabric between his fingers. 

His hand slides to the back of his neck, savoring every touch. He’s kissing Buck and he’s barely breathing, but he can’t let it end, not yet. They’re soaked and they’re cold but none of it matters. He’s kissing Buck and nothing else matters. 

Buck pulls away first, not straying far, resting his forehead against Eddie’s. His breath, still heavy, brushes against Eddie’s cheek, mixing with the rain, leaving him cold. He can’t let this moment end, not yet. 

He closes his eyes to take it all in, but Buck is there again, drawing him in for another kiss. It’s more determined this time, less hesitant, less afraid. It’s strong and assured Eddie lets Buck guide him. He opens his mouth and lets Buck take him in, desperate to feel him closer still. He hears the rain and he hears the sirens, a vague reminder that they’re still at the firehouse, they’re still on the roof, collapsing in each other’s embrace. The stress of their shift is behind them, nearly forgotten, and all that matters is this, on the roofs, grabbing each other by the waist, hip, neck, wherever they can manage. It’s peaceful, and it surrounds them fully.

Their foreheads press together again as they break away, still soaking in the moment. Neither of them try to leave, staying on the roof even as the clouds darken above, taking each other in wholly. It’s way past four a.m. but still they stand, on the rooftop, and Eddie can’t help but lean in again, kissing Buck quickly, once more, just to remind himself that he can.

[incorrectbatfam]

What type of car and what is kept/random things are in each of the batfam cars???

I am terrible at checking my inbox

Bruce: first off, he had multiple cars, being a literal billionaire. But this is Batdad we’re talking, so let’s focus on one—the batmobile. Or at this point, it should called the dadmobile. The outside looks sleek and intimidating, but once glance inside will change anyone’s mind about the Batman. Some notable dad features consist of…

Beaded wooden seat covers for Batdad’s back

Spare tire for Signal’s motorcycle

Nightwing’s CDs for long rides

Spoiler’s emergency hair and makeup kit

Red Hood’s friend

Stacks of Red Robin’s old case files

Black Bat’s spare weapons

Robin’s friend’s copy of Cheese Viking

Dick: he gives free lifts in his squad car all the time, even taking it out of Bludhaven and to Gotham. He’s the one that his siblings’ friends ask rides from. People can tell who carpooled last with him based on the remnants, like…

Colin Wilkes’ fedora

Menu from Jon Kent’s usual noodle place

Billy Batson’s science second-place project

Jai West’s spare running shoes

Roy Harper

Irey West’s broken hair ties

Freddy Freeman’s disposable camera

Jason: he has a motorcycle instead of a car. It’s faster, less conspicuous, and can be ridden into hard-to-reach places. (Also I’m convinced that he never learned to drive a car.) He refuses to give free rides or lend it to others. That being said, he does keep a few important things with him, such as…

Gun

Map of his safe houses

Gun

Chewing gum

Gun

Pocket knife

Burner phone

Gun

Roy

Tim: he actually drives a really nice Wayne Enterprises convertible. It’s supposed to be for business purposes only, but that doesn’t stop other superheroes’ kids from “borrowing” it without his permission to look cool and impress people in their civilian forms. Evidence of that includes…

Kon-El’s hair grease 

Tokens from Damian and Jon’s arcade escapade

Cassie Sandmark’s headphones

Kyle Rayner’s lunch box

Two pairs of underpants, only one of which is Bart’s

Oliver Queen’s protogé

Damian: he legally can’t own a car, so he had a regular bike like every other kid. On the bike or in the pouch on the handlebars, he keeps…

Tiny knife

Batarang

Domino mask

Todd’s associate

Granola bar

Screwdriver

Training wheels that he puts back on when his siblings aren’t around

Stephanie: she drives a red sports car that Bruce gave her on her sixteenth birthday that she uses all the time with her friends at school (and Damian when Bruce makes her). Some things left behind are…

Empty shopping bags

Textbooks she forgot to give back

Her classmate’s wallet

Star City’s most beloved redhead

Old leggings

Buttload of phone chargers

Cracked foundation palette

A tape recorder with proof of Damian being adorable as blackmail

Cassandra: she keeps it on the down-low and uses her black car largely for superhero purposes. That means needing to (over)prepare for late nights. long drives, and unexpected situations. Inside the car, she packs…

Non-perishable food

Water bottles

Road flares

Miniature tool set

Extra gallon of gasoline

First aid kit

More spare tires than she’ll probably ever need

Arsenal

Spare costume, weapons, and civilian clothes

Folded-up motorcycle

Backup GPS, portable charger, and cell phone

Night vision goggles

Fire-starting kit

Sleeping bag and throw blankets

The teddy bear Dick won her at a carnival

Wayne family photo album

Duke: like Jason, he has a motorcycle. But unlike Jason, Duke has a sidecar attached because he’s nice enough to give people rides in emergencies, provided they pay back his gas money. His bike is big enough to hold…

School-issued laptop

Tweety Bird band-aid

Olive Garden mint chocolates

Jason’s significant bother

3D mapping GPS

Comb and detangling product

WiFi password for every network in Gotham

Alfred’s shopping list

Something stuck to the wheel, but Duke’s not sure he wants to know

Alfred: it’s immaculate. Except for Mr. Harper

[atplblog]

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[raven-muse]

Story Time!

So my brother is a weird dude that just finds himself in weird situations while I am the agent of chaos that either helps him get into those situations or just cackles at his misfortune. Here is a story where I just cackled and it’s from my brother’s perspective and words.

So, I'm driving and I take a wrong turn. I pull off into a dead end quick to check the map on my phone. This... unmarked car follows behind me and stops. This is a very unpolice looking car. So like a Saturn. Three guys get out, walking towards me, and I just get the feeling they're cops. Now, my first reaction is "oh no! They saw me on my phone!" So I put it away and start fiddling with my water bottle, acting like I don't see them. When they approached my window, they surrounded me. I look at guy 1 through the drivers side window, guy 2 in the back drivers side window, guy 3 through the passengers window, then back to guy 1. These men are wearing tan combat gear, thick, bullet PROOF vests, ammo pouches, a damn sub-machine gun, shiny police badges, and the look of a man that has given CPR to a dying child and failed. Guy 1, presumably done with my glassy eyed stare, tells me to get out of the car. I do, because whatever the hell this is, I know I stand not a snowballs chance in hell at making a difference. So they start rooting through my car. Didn't ask if they could, but I wasn't about to tell Thing #2 "No, you can't look through my empty backseat." I'm standing off to the side, getting padded for weapons by Thing #1 while Thing #2 brings a baggie of white pills to me, asking if I know what these are. I never saw that bag of pills before in my life, so I tell him something he's never heard before. "I've never seen that before in my life." I'm pretty sure he believed me, but he went and tested the pills anyway. Came back 5 minutes later saying "It's Tylenol." Then I remember having a mild headache months ago, and my mother insisting I carry a loose bag of pills in the car. Thanks mom.... Finally they pop my trunk and they pull out a copy of The Anarchist Cookbook. You know, the book that teaches you how to make bombs, napalm, drugs, chlorine gas, and counter government surveillance. That book. They turn to me, asking why I have this and without an ounce of self awareness, I say "You know, I've been meaning to page through that lately". As if they had asked me if I considered reading Catcher in the Rye. The three just look at each other with genuine confusion and tell me "You're a weird dude." I have to wonder what this experience was like from their perspective. Young kid parked in the wrong part of town, staring dumbly at both of your mates, acting shifty as fuck with a concealed bag of headache pills, telling you he finds to topic of illegal shit interesting. Wtf can you arrest him for? They let me go, and I finally sighed in relief as I drove away. So happy that they didn't find the baggie of weed I stuffed in my boot.