![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
fiachairecht posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
thelonelylakeheavy hits the hand of harm. all elite wrestling, anna/julia, aubrey/julia. the universe encapsulated by the simple phrase 'old friend'. 1k words, rated m. for hotties haunting the narrative.
The way Anna will tell it is, she watches her first friend succumb to corruption, slowly, and then all at once, so utterly that she found herself accepting, almost without realising why, that her friend had never existed at all. That she had been lied to from the start by a woman who had had the House's claws buried inside her long before the black mist was visible in her eyes or the cut-out hearts were strung over her chest.
The way Julia will tell it is, she made a friend and loved her, and that love wasn't enough to keep her from seeking something better in men who would never be capable of anything more than mediocrity. That when she was finally strong enough, she reached back for the only woman she cared about enough to want with her, and was rejected by someone who, it turned out, would always choose cruelty for the sake of being cruel.
Julia was only ever good at lying to other people. And Anna—
Anna was never very good at lying at all.
*
If they were any two other people, that might have been it. But Julia has never been good at letting things go, and Anna is happy to fight. Too happy, maybe, but if the alternative is being without her, Julia's happy to beat her as many times as she wants, as long as she keeps coming back. She'll put up with Anna's attempts to steal her spotlight, the number of times Anna tries to steal her hat, even with how hard Anna fights the mist, if it means Anna's with her.
She can't be blamed, really, for thinking about more permanent options, especially when the mist sticks to Anna's skin, sticks like paint, sticks like glue, and never sinks in.
You're going to kill her, Aubrey says, the day after she and half the other officials had to pull Anna off of Julia after a match.
Stop me, then, Julia says, trying for flippant because she knows of all of them Aubrey could, if she tried, and she doesn't know if she quite lands it but Aubrey blinks at her slow and curious.
I don't think I have to. Fingers against Julia's mouth like she's looking for something, briefly enough that Julia doesn't have the chance to bite. Yet.
She leaves Julia there, to the emptiness of the pre-show locker room. Julia digs her fingernails into the grout, and imagines it's Anna's neck. It's worth the ruined manicure.
*
She wrestles other people, of course — she thinks. Sometimes, when only the entrance ramp is lit — sometimes, when she has a fistful of blonde hair — sometimes, when she's upside down in the ropes with the shape of a woman on the turnbuckle between her thighs—
Maybe it's Anna. Maybe they could be Anna.
She rolls the mist around in her mouth and doesn't let it go, and thinks: why do you hate me?
She doesn't ask. Anna might answer.
The other thing Julia doesn't ask: why is it only you? The mist sinks in to others, when she wants it to. She steers clear of Toni's girls, of course, and the unsigned ones have always been so easy to manipulate that they go without saying, but anyone else she wants she can have, with or without the mist. She fucks Aubrey before she tastes Anna in anything other than dreams that leave her slick and aching, and it makes her reckless.
Violent with it, too: but it wins Julia her first belt. In compensation for anything else, it might have been enough, but Anna isn't even in the locker room that night, and when she gets home she screams so loudly, for so long, that the House manifests her bathtub around her while she's still fully clothed. Warm jasmine-scented water rising to fill her mouth, hands scrabbling to pull sodden leggings down as her head cracks against the porcelain.
Four fingers inside her and three orgasms later, she's stopped screaming, but the water can't stop her from seeing Anna, always Anna, no matter how tightly she screws her eyes shut.
*
It's not only Anna, except, of course, it is. Skye loves her in a way Anna never did, and it isn't enough. She defends her title against women who don't deserve it and it's simply the way things ought to be.
There's something wrong with Anna, something that's cracked inside her and held her back, and Julia's wants to dig her fingers into the gap, wants to pull and see what comes spilling out. She has two clean wins against Anna by the time she faces her as champion and she wants this time to be different — not to lose, but to be challenged.
Old friend should mean something, she says out loud, alone in her bedroom the night before.
If the House has opinions, it's not sharing, and Skye is still downstairs sparring with Brody. Better neither of them see her like this, Julia thinks, because there's something sick and cold in the pit of her stomach telling her it isn't going to be different at all. The rage she'd felt last week when Anna pinned Skye had subsided almost as soon as they were backstage — she'd taken Skye to a secluded corner and held her, felt the mist working over their injuries warm as a weighted blanket.
This won't be the match you want, Aubrey had said when she found them, Skye on the edge of sleep and Julia weighing the merits of following her.
Do something about it, then, Julia had said, last year's conversation echoing dim somewhere in the depths of her mind.
And Aubrey had looked - sad, unfamiliarly so. Curious, like she was waiting for Julia to realise something that she'd long figured out. I don't have to, she'd said. I don't think you want me to.
And then: Julia had shifted Skye in her lap, expectant, but it woke her, and when she looked back up Aubrey had melted back into the shadows.
Now: window glass cold against her forehead, all that separated her from the mist. She could figure out where the House was, if she wanted to, but it seems unimportant, set against the fact that she can see the shape of the match ahead, and can't see Anna at all.
Julia thinks: don't go away from me like this.
She thinks: maybe you already have.
She thinks: why didn't you stay, even like this?
(She doesn't think: it's over.
But it is.)
The way Anna will tell it is, she watches her first friend succumb to corruption, slowly, and then all at once, so utterly that she found herself accepting, almost without realising why, that her friend had never existed at all. That she had been lied to from the start by a woman who had had the House's claws buried inside her long before the black mist was visible in her eyes or the cut-out hearts were strung over her chest.
The way Julia will tell it is, she made a friend and loved her, and that love wasn't enough to keep her from seeking something better in men who would never be capable of anything more than mediocrity. That when she was finally strong enough, she reached back for the only woman she cared about enough to want with her, and was rejected by someone who, it turned out, would always choose cruelty for the sake of being cruel.
Julia was only ever good at lying to other people. And Anna—
Anna was never very good at lying at all.
If they were any two other people, that might have been it. But Julia has never been good at letting things go, and Anna is happy to fight. Too happy, maybe, but if the alternative is being without her, Julia's happy to beat her as many times as she wants, as long as she keeps coming back. She'll put up with Anna's attempts to steal her spotlight, the number of times Anna tries to steal her hat, even with how hard Anna fights the mist, if it means Anna's with her.
She can't be blamed, really, for thinking about more permanent options, especially when the mist sticks to Anna's skin, sticks like paint, sticks like glue, and never sinks in.
You're going to kill her, Aubrey says, the day after she and half the other officials had to pull Anna off of Julia after a match.
Stop me, then, Julia says, trying for flippant because she knows of all of them Aubrey could, if she tried, and she doesn't know if she quite lands it but Aubrey blinks at her slow and curious.
I don't think I have to. Fingers against Julia's mouth like she's looking for something, briefly enough that Julia doesn't have the chance to bite. Yet.
She leaves Julia there, to the emptiness of the pre-show locker room. Julia digs her fingernails into the grout, and imagines it's Anna's neck. It's worth the ruined manicure.
She wrestles other people, of course — she thinks. Sometimes, when only the entrance ramp is lit — sometimes, when she has a fistful of blonde hair — sometimes, when she's upside down in the ropes with the shape of a woman on the turnbuckle between her thighs—
Maybe it's Anna. Maybe they could be Anna.
She rolls the mist around in her mouth and doesn't let it go, and thinks: why do you hate me?
She doesn't ask. Anna might answer.
The other thing Julia doesn't ask: why is it only you? The mist sinks in to others, when she wants it to. She steers clear of Toni's girls, of course, and the unsigned ones have always been so easy to manipulate that they go without saying, but anyone else she wants she can have, with or without the mist. She fucks Aubrey before she tastes Anna in anything other than dreams that leave her slick and aching, and it makes her reckless.
Violent with it, too: but it wins Julia her first belt. In compensation for anything else, it might have been enough, but Anna isn't even in the locker room that night, and when she gets home she screams so loudly, for so long, that the House manifests her bathtub around her while she's still fully clothed. Warm jasmine-scented water rising to fill her mouth, hands scrabbling to pull sodden leggings down as her head cracks against the porcelain.
Four fingers inside her and three orgasms later, she's stopped screaming, but the water can't stop her from seeing Anna, always Anna, no matter how tightly she screws her eyes shut.
It's not only Anna, except, of course, it is. Skye loves her in a way Anna never did, and it isn't enough. She defends her title against women who don't deserve it and it's simply the way things ought to be.
There's something wrong with Anna, something that's cracked inside her and held her back, and Julia's wants to dig her fingers into the gap, wants to pull and see what comes spilling out. She has two clean wins against Anna by the time she faces her as champion and she wants this time to be different — not to lose, but to be challenged.
Old friend should mean something, she says out loud, alone in her bedroom the night before.
If the House has opinions, it's not sharing, and Skye is still downstairs sparring with Brody. Better neither of them see her like this, Julia thinks, because there's something sick and cold in the pit of her stomach telling her it isn't going to be different at all. The rage she'd felt last week when Anna pinned Skye had subsided almost as soon as they were backstage — she'd taken Skye to a secluded corner and held her, felt the mist working over their injuries warm as a weighted blanket.
This won't be the match you want, Aubrey had said when she found them, Skye on the edge of sleep and Julia weighing the merits of following her.
Do something about it, then, Julia had said, last year's conversation echoing dim somewhere in the depths of her mind.
And Aubrey had looked - sad, unfamiliarly so. Curious, like she was waiting for Julia to realise something that she'd long figured out. I don't have to, she'd said. I don't think you want me to.
And then: Julia had shifted Skye in her lap, expectant, but it woke her, and when she looked back up Aubrey had melted back into the shadows.
Now: window glass cold against her forehead, all that separated her from the mist. She could figure out where the House was, if she wanted to, but it seems unimportant, set against the fact that she can see the shape of the match ahead, and can't see Anna at all.
Julia thinks: don't go away from me like this.
She thinks: maybe you already have.
She thinks: why didn't you stay, even like this?
(She doesn't think: it's over.
But it is.)
no subject
Date: 2025-10-16 09:23 pm (UTC)this whole fic is packed with gorgeous imagery, and in particular this line but the water can't stop her from seeing Anna really hit, something about the head cracking against porcelain and seeing anna through the water, *chef kiss*
aaaa what a delightful haunted dissolution fic \o/
no subject
Date: 2025-10-16 11:15 pm (UTC)i'm so glad you liked it ^^ i will continue to make this ficathon my wrestling playground hehe