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chilling-seavey · 4 years

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Ok I don’t know if you’ve seen Franny arrieta’s new youtube video but like Christian and Daniel are in it working out and like I NEED a blurb based on screen shots from that video because 😍 so like maybe a workout blurb or something cute idk exactly what to do but something based on that video would just make my whole life haha

Of course I saw it omgg 😳But yess okay… thinking of a CUTE blurb idea for this was hard because 🥴 but lol hehe I think this worked out alright…

Linked the vid clips here but here’s also a pic because 🥴

Saturday, September 23rd, 2028

Saturday mornings were gym days for Daniel. After spending a full week at work, his Saturday mornings gave him an hour or so to himself before the weekend was to focus on his little family. It was a good routine, setting an alarm for around 7 with enough time to get a bit more cuddles and lazy sleepy kisses in from his wife before he was pulling himself out of bed to get dressed by 7:30.

Clementine and Penelope would still be asleep that early on a weekend, but four-year-old Lucy would hear him make his way down the hallway and she’d be out of bed in an instant. This morning was no different, with Daniel in the kitchen prepping his pre-workout drink in blue shorts and a tank top and his usual hat, stirring a spoon around in the glass of bright blue tinted water, his eyes raising to the little girl standing around the corner.

“Morning, Princess.” Daniel smiled over at her.

Lucy, still sleepy, trudged over to him with her blonde hair a mess on her head and her fist rubbing her eye tiredly and then reached up for him.

“There’s my girl.” he chuckled, bending down to scoop her up onto his hip and she leaned her head on his shoulder.

“I want juice too.” Lucy pointed to his drink.

“Yeah? How does apple juice sound?”

“I want that.” Lucy tried to grab the glass but he quickly pulled her hand away.

“That’s for grownups.” Daniel said and sat her on the counter before picking up his drink and tossed the spoon in the sink. He took a sip as he opened the fridge and took out the bottle of apple juice with his free hand to pour his youngest a drink too.

Lucy thanked him softly as she took the sippy cup from him and she reached out to grab the front of his shirt and pull him closer to lean her cheek against his chest. They drank in silence, the half-asleep toddler still waking up but still clinging onto her father like usual, her small fingers holding tightly to his shirt to keep him close. When they both finished their drinks, Daniel rinsed his glass and put the dishes in the dishwasher.

“Okay, my love, how about I put on Peppa for you until Mommy wakes up?” Daniel offered, petting her hair back from her face.

“With you?” Lucy pouted.

“I gotta go to the gym, remember?”

“Can I come?”

“You want to come to the gym with me?” Daniel raised an eyebrow at her, setting his hands on either side of her on the counter.

Lucy nodded excitedly.

“It’s not going to be very fun.”

“Yes, it will.” Lucy protested, holding up her arms to him again. “Please, Daddy.”

Daniel sighed lightly but leaned in to press a kiss to her cheek, as he scooped her up again, “Fine. I’ll take you with me.”

He quickly got her dressed and brushed her hair into pigtails and grabbed a pre-stocked container of fruit from the fridge as a little early breakfast for Lucy. He slipped back into the bedroom to whisper to Florence that he was taking their youngest with him, assuring her sleepy concerned expression that he was going to be fine with her there, and kissed her goodbye.

Lucy was so excited to go wherever Daniel went and being able to tag along on his weekly visit to the gym was exceptional to her. She held his hand as they took the elevator down to the recreation floor of the condominium, her breakfast and his towel and water bottle and phone and keys balanced in his other hand. The sixth floor was set up with a full gym, a pool, and outdoor lounge spaces for the residents. The gym was a space that the girls never really saw so with a scan of Daniel’s card, the door clicked open and Lucy’s eyes were wide with youthful excitement as they headed inside.

It wasn’t too busy for 8am on a Saturday but the usual same people were there as well as a few new stragglers. Daniel proudly introduced his youngest to a few of the other guys that were around who he had gotten to know during his weekly routines. He set himself up at the bench press, sliding over a cube for Lucy to sit on while he worked out, passing her his phone to play with and the open container of cut up fruit to her.

“I wanna do the gym with you too.” Lucy protested, pushing his phone back towards him.

“The gym’s for grownups, Princess.” Daniel said as he got the equipment set up.

He glanced over at her when he got no reply to see her little pout staring back at him. He sighed, looking around the area before going over to the weights and grabbing the lightest one. Lucy grinned at him when he held it out to her and she jumped off her seat to take it.

“Too heavy?” Daniel asked.

“Good.” Lucy shook her head, her little nose scrunching up as she raised it to her chest with both hands.

Daniel couldn’t hold back his adoring smile to his daughter as he tugged off his shirt and grabbed his own weights. Lucy stared wide eyed at him as he brought over two weights that were like the size of her head, watching how he lifted them like they were nearly nothing. She copied him right away, curling her own tiny weight up to her chest and back down in time with him, her concentrated furrowed eyebrows mirroring his exactly. Lucy was his little copycat and that was obvious.

She was tired after the weights so she sat and watched him as he worked on the rest of his routine; bench presses and pull ups and the use of various other metal equipment that the four year old had no clue the purpose of. Lucy didn’t mind though; she loved just being near him and sitting and watching and munching her fruit was a perfect pastime for her. She followed him around like a little puppy when he would move onto another piece of equipment, asking him plenty of questions while he tried to work.

Daniel loved her, he really did, but good God she didn’t know when to stop talking.

“Luce, princess, baby-” Daniel sighed tiredly, sitting up from the bench to look to her, “Can you just sit quietly please, honey? I gotta stay focussed.”

Lucy frowned but nodded, popping another slice of watermelon in her mouth. He got up long enough to press a kiss to her head and grab a drink of water before he was shifting back down on the bench and getting his grip on the bar again. The silence was nice as he could keep track of his reps without getting distracted.

“Daddy!” Lucy suddenly exclaimed, nearly making him drop the heavy bar in surprise.

“What is it, Princess?” Daniel groaned as he carefully set the bar back onto his stand.

“Look at the colourful bouncy balls over there! I want one!”

He barely had a second to even sit up before she took off at top speed across the gym towards the row of blue exercise balls by the far wall.

“Lucy, don’t-”

He heard it before he saw it, the chilling sound of the impact of head on metal that nearly echoed through the entire gym followed by the thud of his daughter hitting the ground hard.

“Shit!” Daniel scrambled up just as the four-year-old’s blood curdling scream filled the large space and everyone’s heads turned their way.

Daniel never moved faster, the pre-workout drink in his veins turning into pure adrenaline as he rushed to the aide of his youngest daughter who was screaming on the ground. He dropped beside her and picked her right up into his arms, holding her tightly.

“Oh my gosh, Lucy.” he breathed shakily as she sobbed into his shoulder. “Did you hit your head, baby? What happened?”

She could only scream in response, tears pouring down her cheeks and he pulled back to look at her and make sure she was okay. He held her face in his hands, a little trickle of blood dripping down her forehead. Definitely not enough for stitches but enough that sent Daniel’s heart racing.

“Okay, honey. Okay, baby. It’s okay. You’re okay.” he stumbled over his own reassurances, barely heard over her shrieking, trying desperately to get her to calm down. “Look at me, Lucy. Look at Daddy, baby. Come on. You’re okay.”

A few other people had come over to them by that point, one bringing a towel and one with the first aid kit and one with a cup of water. Daniel couldn’t even get himself to thank them right away as he wiped up the blood from Lucy’s forehead with the white towel through her screams of agony. She sobbed loudly, clinging onto him through her pain and embarrassment as everyone was looking at them.

Daniel shushed her gently through little kisses to her hair, rubbing a hand over her back as the staff member on duty brought over an ice pack to him. Daniel shifted onto his bum on the ground from his knees and tucked Lucy on his lap with his arms around her and the ice pack pressed gently to her forehead.

“What happened?”

“She ran into one of the bars, I think.”

Daniel shut his eyes tightly and pressed his lips to the top of Lucy’s head, feeling like the absolute worst father in the world as she screamed in his arms, little fingers clinging onto his bare shoulders. He kept the ice pack against her head, rubbing his other hand over her back lovingly as he shushed her softly.

“Daddy’s got you, baby. You’re okay.”

Lucy started to calm down after a few moments, her screams turning into soft sobs and she stumbled over each breath, curling tiredly against his chest. When it was once again nearly quiet, Daniel shakily thanked the people who came to their help. One of the men had brought over their things for them and Daniel thanked him with a flat smile as he got up from the ground, Lucy tucked tightly in his arms with her arms snug around her neck and her cheek leaning against his shoulder, the bruise on her forehead only growing with time.

“I want Mommy.” Lucy sniffled.

“I know, my love. We’re going home to see Mommy now.” Daniel said shakily, tossing his shirt and his towel over his other shoulder and gathered their things in one hand before heading for the elevators. Daniel took a shaking breath as he pressed the call button, muttering softly, “Mommy’s going to kill me.”

#anything but mine #daniel seavey #daniel seavey imagines #calumhoodiskindahot 🧡

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joshslater · 4 years

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Werehick

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I don’t know when it actually started. I had been aware of time slipping for me occasionally. I might have thought it was Sunday and it turned out to be Monday, but I had shrugged them off as a result of stress. The alternative would have been some mental disorder, and you really don’t want to go there in your self diagnosing. It wasn’t until after the “break in” it started to become a regular occurrence. A serious one as well. Best I knew I woke up Saturday morning to a trashed apartment. Well, not totally trashed, but a few items broken, lots of things moved around, empty beer cans on the floor, some money missing.

I was shocked I managed to sleep through whatever had transpired in my apartment, and a little scared to what could have happened, what could have been done to me. Perhaps something had been done to me? Perhaps that was why I slept through it all. I couldn’t figure out any reason for it. Sneak into someones apartment, at great risk, tranquilize the sleeping resident, and then throw a party. Did they use sleep gas, like they do when they rob truckers sleeping at truck stops?

It was when I decided to call the cops I got the chills. The phone said it was Monday morning. The whole weekend gone! I decided the police had to wait, as I hurried to work. I got there enough on time to not be suspicious, but obviously I spent the entire day thinking of little else. As a creative writer at an ad agency my hours are flexible, and as long as I deliver in time and at quality no one cares, but it would still be weird to not show up at all. But I barely managed to do anything useful while there. I felt tired, mentally drain, and sore in my muscles, as if the adrenaline of the morning had a lingering effect. Above all, questions and thoughts kept popping up. Do I need to change locks? Are there now drugs stashed in my apartment? Did they do something else to me? Is that why I feel funny? Do I need to schedule a doctors appointment? What would I say that wouldn’t lock me up?

Cleaning up in the apartment took less time than I had feared, and once done I realized there was even less for the police to do. What was the crime? Where was the evidence? As the days passed, it was almost like it hadn’t happened. Oh, how wrong I was.

A couple of weeks later it happened again, only this time I woke up wearing someone else’s clothes. It smelled like sweat and auto repair shop even before I opened my eyes, and I practically jumped out of bed when I looked at myself. A worn under armour hoodie, filthy, threadbare jeans, and workers boots, splattered with caked mud. There was a light brown outline on the sheets where my body had rubbed dust into the fabric.

I could feel my heard pounding, as I ran through the rooms of my apartment to see if anyone was still there. Only later did I realize I didn’t have a plan for what to do if I had found someone. As before the place was a mess, but I sensed more things were missing.

I rushed into the bathroom and started to rip off the clothes. I smelled like someone else, I looked like someone else, and I hated it. I felt violated, somehow. This wasn’t just drawing a dick with a sharpie on someone drunk. I threw the hoodie on the floor. I tried to pull off the boots, heel against toe, but it didn’t work. I almost felt trapped that I couldn’t just throw off all the shit that was on me. I sat down on the toilet and frantically tried to untie the knots on the boots. It for sure took longer than if I had been calm. It didn’t help that I saw dirt under my finger nails. Once the first boot was off I reeled back from the smell of stale foot juice. Someone else’s warm boot smell, and on my foot, a thick, grey sock. I yanked it off, fast as I could, and did the same on the other foot.

Though the end was near, I just felt more and more trapped. The jeans had a belt with a belt buckle large as my hand. I undid it, and undid the buttons. The worst for last. Under the jeans I wore a jockstrap. Not any of the sexualized neon-pink ones from a pride parade. No, some disgusting, once white jockstrap with a few blue and red lines on the waist band. I got out of the jeans, and then as quickly as possible pulled off the jockstrap and thew it in the heap with the other shit.

My heart was still racing, the room smelled of feet and sweat and diesel, and my sight was transfixed on the pile of clothes on the floor. It took probably a minute to calm down. I looked in the mirror. There was a clear dirt line where the hoodie ended and my neck started. Determined I walk out of the bathroom to the kitchen to get a plastic bag. I needed to put all of the clothes away before I started to shower. I shuddered to imagine what damp air would to do them and the smell they would give off.

It started out brownish and took a while until the water running into the shower drain was clear. Only then did I start with soap. One full body pass with hard soap and one with some liquid soap. Then two thorough shampooings and finally one pass conditioner, something I rarely use. But I felt like I needed it this time.

I wasn’t at all surprised to find that it was again Monday, not Saturday, when I checked my smartphone. I made a deal with my project manager on Slack to work from home. I needed to vacuum and wet wipe the entire apartment to get the dirt out, figure out what was missing, and try to figure out what the hell was going on.

Assessing the damage I could immediately see that my hunch of things missing was true. A few art pieces were gone, and most of my formal clothes as well. It was just bizarre. The state of my apartment didn’t make sense either. It didn’t look like someone had thrown a party, but rather as if they had squatted there. Rifled through my stuff like a burglar, but also lounged around, dragging dirt all over my carpets and furniture. I was trying to think back to the last time it happened, what was different from then. This was like a serial killer story on CSI. They keep getting bolder and bolder after each kill, at least in the show. Did this guy, whoever he was, think his method was perfected enough that he could come and go as he wished. Even mock me by dressing me up. Who knows when he’ll...

I dropped everything and checked my phone calendar. This was the last weekend of the month, and last time it had happened was also the last weekend of the month. I flipped back through the month in the calendar, desperately trying to remember anything about the previous times I had lost track of time. For all the ones I could remember anything about, they had all been the last weekend of the month. So that was his pattern. How had I not seen that before? All I needed was some go pro or something. Motion activated, long battery time. I was doing some of my best work in a long time that afternoon. “Perhaps you should work from home more often” my project lead told me on slack.

It was such a roller coaster of a day, I reflected, as I took my second shower. Despite having thrown away the clothes, that smell of sweat lingered. Probably my imagination, but I had also spent several hours scrubbing floors, so my body was sore all over. I felt like I’ve had quite a workout, which probably was true. As I let the water wash over me I was thinking of all the different places to put cameras in the apartment. I wanted as few as possible, for cost reasons of course, but have as wide and good coverage as possible, yet be hard to find.

Something had not gone according to plan. I had purchased the cameras well in advance, tried them out, and checked the footage. All great. I had put limits on my credit cards. Made backups of my computer. Hid away some of the more valuable items. Everything was set when I went to bed. I was nervous, sure, but fully expected to wake up with the face of my tormentor recorded. At least I had expected to wake up at home.

This looked like a scrap yard, and my bed had been a bunch of cut up cardboard boxes. It took some minutes to get my bearings. My entire body felt stiff. I must have slept here, in the cold, on the hard surface all night, and I didn’t have much clothes on either. A tattered T-shirt, just as distressed jeans, and a pair of OK jogging shoes. I smelled like I hadn’t showered all week. Looking to my left I could see a camera on a rack of junk, looking back at me. It might even be one of the ones I bought and hid. So much for that attempt.

As I got up to get it, I something more than just soreness, and looked again at myself. Since when was I this ripped? My arms were way larger than when I went to sleep. My work is sitting with a lap top, writing almost the same thing over and over. I don’t have veins that pops. There is nothing that bulges when I bend my arms. Apparently I do now. Even without a mirror I could tell the rest of the body had changed just as much as well. What the hell is going on?

I stood up and walked a step to the camera. Everything felt wrong. My center of gravity was somehow off. My pose was different. My gait was different. It’s like my newly gotten muscles forced me to move differently, or they would rub against my body, stopping them. The small camera was recording, but I had no means to view it here, wherever I was. I stopped it, grabbed it and started to look for an exit.

After a few minutes of random turns in the heaps of trash I found a clearing and an open gate. An older man in a neat, but worn, blue coverall sat in a plastic chair, reading some papers and drinking coffee from a cup of out of place fancy china.

- Kyle! Here this early? I didn’t even know you were here.

Kyle? Who is this man mistaking me for? No time to figure that out. I have no idea where I am, what time it is, or how to get home, and I need to get there before anyone gets suspicious.

- The early bird. What time is it anyway? - It’s 5... 48.

I thanked him and exited. Once outside of the gates I started to recognize where I were. This was the industrial park south-west of the city. Lots of small and medium companies have lots there. The other kind of “lots”. God, and I’m a copywriter. It would be almost an hour walk to get home from here. I started to pat my pockets to see if I had any money or anything on me, and almost jumped and yelped.

I have a monster cock. It’s huge! You don’t just suddenly grow a large penis in your twenties. Certainly not while sleeping through a weekend. I just realized that perhaps I was wrong there too. It could be a year later for all I knew. I might not even have an apartment to come back to. I found my keys in my right front pocket and some wrinkled cash in my left.

I managed to find a bus stop at the outskirts of the park, with a bus passing every 30 minutes according to the posted schedule. I reckoned that even if I had just missed a bus, it would still be faster to wait for the next. Thankfully it was deserted. People would be travelling to their work at this hour, and most would come by car anyway. So I got to stand there and be self conscious all by myself. What a crude and obscene sight I must be, perhaps less so out here with literal blue collar workers, but at least pushing it. I couldn’t wait to incinerate these tattered clothes, and scrub myself an hour in the shower to get rid of this stench of man and machine parts. I just realized I would be on public transport in this state. Perhaps walking would be preferable after all.

At that moment the bus just rounded the bend in the distance. It would be weird to not take it now. The bus came to a stop just in front of me, and two hispanic looking men stepped off at the rear and I stepped on. I picked up my wad of cash and asked the driver how much for a single to town center.

- Travel card or travel app only.

I didn’t move, trying to come up with something to convince him to take me anyway. Pay him personally perhaps.

- Just take a seat.

The bus took a depressing sight seeing tour of our declining manufacturing industries before heading back into town. I can see from the time, date and temperature a gas station sign that it is just Monday two days later from when I went to sleep. Whatever had happened, happened during those 72 or so hours. My normally noisy mind was quiet. I couldn’t come up with any explanation for what was going on. Some 24 minutes later, according to the bus clock, I was reasonably close to home to walk.

Predictably my home was in a mess when I opened the door. On the floor were pieces of smashed surveillance cameras mixed with dried dirt, ripped papers, shredded clothes and other parts of my life smashed to bits. At least my laptop was unharmed, sitting on the living room table. I would have to deal with the rest of the apartment later, but my immediate concern was the camera I brought with me. I connected a USB cable between it and the laptop, and the vendor app started automatically.

The software showed the final frame of the video, with me pressing the off button at the junkyard. Fuck, I looked terrible, and almost unrecognizably different. I clicked at the start of the progress bar and the image switched to an interior view of my apartment, from what I thought had been a clever place in the bookcase to hide the camera. Into view walked me, in only underwear. Was I sleepwalking? What was this? The me in the video looked like how I remembered myself from this Friday, but he walked “looser”, for lack of a better term. He, I, looked furious.

- What the fuck is this shit? Yo spying on me now, fucking lib? Making your own fucking government spy program?

He was holding another camera in his hand, and threw it at the wall, showering the room with cheap, Chinese plastic shards.

- Just typical of you people, ain’t it? Can’t stay out of honest folks lives. I’ll fucking show you then. All this bullshit has to go. “Ooooo! Look at mee! I type on a compuuuter for living!”

He spat a large glob of spit somewhere on the floor off camera.

- I’ll butt into your life then. See how you like that? I’ll show you what a real fucking american looks like.

And he reached out to the camera and pressed the off button. It instantly cut to almost complete darkness. He could just barely make out the outline of a man moving, illuminated by the far distant sodium light. The camera then did cuts after cuts, as the motion detection turned on and off recording. As I fast forwarded It became apparent this was the camera setup recording me as I was sleeping on a stack of cardboard.

I didn’t even watch to the end, but just threw the laptop on the table and looked around in disbelief. “Schizophrenic” was all I could think. That was the only explanation that made sense. Somehow I was switching between me and this douchebag on a set schedule. Or was that imagined also? What about the body? Did I imagine that? Or did I imagine my old body and this was the real one? No, schizophrenic isn’t the word. What’s the real medical one... Multiple Personality Disorder! That’s the one! Fuck! I’ve been off my game all morning. Did my mind change too, and not just the body?

I picked through the devastation of my home. Almost all of my clothes were gone, replaced with distressed and dirty clothes that looked like it belonged to a teenager, mechanic and/or farmer. Most of it off brand, but some fox racing and carhartt stuff looked almost new. Where was all this shit coming from? This time I didn’t just dump everything in a trash bag, but tried to sort through the mess. If this really was a Dr. Jekyll and Kyle situation, perhaps it was best to keep as much of this shit as possible, or he would just drag in more. All of my broken stuff had to go though.

As I got rid of the last torn book pages and shredded tie, I realized that I didn’t actually miss all my stuff. I was more upset with how I lost it. I was just about to head out for lunch when I saw myself in the mirror. I’d spent all morning in that shitty T-shirt, jeans and shoes without thinking about changing. Suddenly I felt dirty again. Damn him!

This time the surprise was that there wasn’t any surprise. I stepped out of the shoes and found I had no socks on me, which felt icky to me. As I started to pull down my jeans I found I didn’t have any underwear either. I stopped at the knees and was transfixed with what I saw. My dick and balls where probably twice my old size. The legs looked stronger than before. I undressed the last part of the jeans just with my legs, and could clearly hear them rip further. Then I grabbed the T-shirt and pulled it off in one motion, and got a good whiff of really strong body odor. The upper body was something else. I had abs. I had pecs. Not huge ones, but well defined. My body had never looked this good before, and probably never would if it had been only up to me. I spent a really long time cleaning myself in the shower. How the fuck was this possible?

Andy was the first one to say something, perhaps even the first one to recognize me.

- Wow! What the hell happened here?! - Morning Andy. Just some workout that paid off. - Bulk payment? Well, you look great. I like the hipster look.

I had washed a pair of carhartt pants and a plaid shirt, brushed some boots clean, and managed to dress close to what one of our art directors looked like, but with muscles. As much as I hated all the crap in my apartment, it did fit my body, and it would take both time and money to replace it all, so I gathered I would use what I could. There was no hiding this body anyway.

It was a weird day in many ways. In one way it was like I was a new employee, with looks and outright stares from women, and a few guys, I didn’t know very well. Some people I had barely talked to before, mostly quite fit men, chatted with me to assess if I would fit in their social circle. And those I worked with the most couldn’t stop giving remarks about my body, some flattering, some jokes, many subtly envious, and several hurtful in the line of meathead and jockywriter.

I was obviously self conscious all the time. Even when I didn’t have eyes glued on me, or remarks woven into every dialogue, I could feel my body in a way I had never done before. I couldn’t sit the same as before. My legs were different. My junk was way different. My arms rubbed against my body in a new way. I felt restless as soon as I begun a task. And above all it felt like all my talent had left the building. I was not being very productive.

It pretty much dragged on like that. Perhaps less with the staring and the remarks, but certainly with my confidence and performance at an all time low. It was self reinforcing. The worse I performed the more certain I was that this was my new peak. As good as it gets. I didn’t bother to buy any new clothes. It felt pointless. At least I was always showing up with clean clothes. I kind of had to, because after a day they stunk.

After two weeks Jared, my boss, took me aside for a lunch meeting in his office. I knew things were going piss poor, and that I hadn’t been upfront with him about it. I made the decision to tell him everything I knew. The lost times, the “break ins”, the abduction to the junk yard, the sudden body changes, and my theory of multiple personality disorder, despite it not explaining everything.

He didn’t say a word while I spoke, and carefully consumed his Vietnamese BBQ baguette, making the appearance of almost not listening at all. Once my story was up to date with the last few days. He was just silently nodding and remained quiet for too many seconds.

- Can I meet him? - Who? - Kyle.

I was surprised. Somehow I hadn’t even thought of that as a possibility. I could never meet him, of course, but someone else could.

- When’s the next full moon? - The what? - The next time Kyle emerge? - Last weekend of the month. Week and a half from now. - We are way behind on cataloging. Boring and non-creative work, I know, but... you know... - Yeah, I know. - Well, you shouldn’t have any problems lifting the boxes at least.

It felt weird having my boss doing an all nighter binging Netflix content in my living room, while I was going to bed in the bedroom, but he was adamant he wanted to do this. So I fell asleep and strangely nothing appeared to be different when I woke up.

I quickly got dressed, blue jeans and fox racing shirt, and found Jared sleeping in my living room. It was 6:41 Monday morning according to my phone. Had he been here the whole weekend? I had a look around in the apartment. Some things had moved around, but it looked neat and clean enough.

- Hey... Hey Jared.. - Mmmmm - Hey, what happened?

Jared made a big yawn and sat up in the couch.

- Mmm. We certainly had too much to drink. - We? - You don’t feel it? I guess Kyle was right. - Right about what? - Well, it’s certainly more than just a mental thing, but we already knew that. I think I may have brokered a truce. - A truce? - Just trust me on this one. Don’t go to a doctor or anything. Keep his stuff in the apartment somewhere. - And me? What do I get.

Jared had a wry smile. Why was he so stingy with details?

- You get to be the message lead for our Chrysler commercial. - WHAT?! That’s huge. Wait... Why are you giving it to me? If someone asked a few days ago I would have said for sure I would be fired very soon. - I think you’ll do great. I’ll think you’ll manage to craft exactly the right message for heartland consumers. I have it from a good source that you’ll be just the right blend of creative writer and redneck for the job.

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kilyra · 5 years

Text

Need To Let Go

Tony Stark (Iron Man, MCU) One-Shot

A/N: I jumped in on @tilltheendwilliwrite ‘s 6K Follower Challenge with a Tony fic inspired by “Innocent” by Our Lady Peace. It’s my first attempt at Tony, so I’m a bit nervous - hopefully I captured his voice!

You are struggling after a mission involving casualties, and Tony steps in to talk.

Warnings: Language (Effbomb) - NO SPOILERS, for anything. I kept everything vague and it makes sense for this to take place after The Avengers, but before Iron Man 3...or actually maybe after Iron Man 3? Hmm. Definitely before Age of Ultron though!

Keeping an eye on the TV playing above the bar, you poured yourself another drink. You weren't sure which drink you were on, but you didn't bother putting the bottle back anymore.

Blurry images of you and others on the team splashed across the screen as speculative captions scrolled underneath. The newscasters spoke like they were presenting new facts, but were just finding more insulting ways to question or repeat what everyone already knew.

There was another attack on the city. Some of the team now known as the Avengers were on site to thwart it, but there were casualties.

Taking another swig of the burning liquid, you watched footage of you dodging an energy bolt fired by one of the creatures. The bolt hit a car behind you.

The car wasn't empty.

Your stomach rolled as you set the glass down on the bar with a dull thud. With any luck, the fire of the drink would at least counter the sinking feeling that got worse each time you saw the footage.

“J.A.R.V.I.S., turn off that garbage.” Tony's commanding voice came from behind you.

“Of course, sir.” The television blipped out.

Although you hadn't heard him come into the lounge, you were more startled by the screen going blank than by his sudden presence.

Huffing out a sigh, you took another drink.

“You trying to single-handedly drink me dry here, L/n?” Leaning on the bar, Tony settled onto the stool next to you.

His dark, perfectly shaped goatee and lightly mussed hair managed to make him look put together even in his sweatpants. Brimming with his usual confidence, his dark eyes seemed to glitter as he tilted his head at you.

Dropping your eyes down to your glass, you put your entire focus on it. Staring hard, you ran your thumb across the condensation along the bottom half of your glass. The ice cubes were long since melted, but the glass still hadn't warmed up all these drinks later. They must have been going faster than you thought.

“Huh. I didn't realize your hearing was damaged. Should we get the doctors back here? Or maybe I can just work on a hearing aid. You know, I could probably get you some spy-tech level hearing if you want.”

“Stop. Just go away.”

Facing forward on his stool, Tony's eyes drifted over the many bottles sitting behind the bar. “I'm not going to do that. You might not have heard, but I technically own this building, so that means I can go wherever I want.”

Sometimes it was impossible to tell what was arrogance and what was joking. But as irritation flooded your veins, you didn't care. “Just leave me alone.”

He was utterly unfazed by your snarl. “Mm, no. No, I'm not going to do that either.”

Reaching behind the bar, he grabbed a bowl of some sort of colourful dried fruit and nut mix. Turning to face you, he slid the bowl within your reach as he grabbed a handful. You refused to look up from your fingers as you traced around the rim of your glass.

Staring you down as he popped a few pieces in his mouth, he nudged the bowl closer to you.

“Seriously, Tony,” you warned.

“Tell you what. I'll leave you alone if you let me take this and you take this,” he said as he plucked the glass out of your hand and shoved the bowl in its place.

“And you let me say what I came in here to say.” Finishing, he propped his elbow on the bar as he watched you.

Taking your glass away fanned your irritation into quiet anger. It didn't matter that the bottle was still sitting next to you. All you could picture was punching that smug face and taking your drink back.

Your hand balled tightly, and it took all your effort to keep it on the bar.

Gritting your teeth, you shoved the bowl out of your way and clasped both hands over the empty spot where your glass had been. "I'm not hungry. And why the hell do you have food stashed there anyhow? Who hides little caches of food everywhere like that?"

Shrugging lightly, he threw another piece in his mouth. “I get snacky. But you should be hungry, I don't think you've eaten since yesterday. Of course, to you, it might all be one day since you're not really sleeping either."

“You're spying on me now?”

Not even trying to cover it, he nodded. “Sure. I'm concerned.”

“You're concerned? About my sleeping habits? So you're an arrogant asshole and a hypocrite. Got it.”

His eyebrows lifted for a moment before lightly creasing together. “Excuse me? How does that make me a hypocrite?”

Feeling the tension seize the muscles down your arms, you just wanted to let the wave of anger pass. But the walls were closing in and the anger was clawing at the insides of your chest, desperate to get out. Pressing your fingers against your temple, you realized your hands were shaking slightly. “Because you should get your shit together before getting on my case.”

“Okay, again...I'm concerned...not getting on your case. And second, I'm fine.”

Twisting suddenly, you threw your shoulder back to face him square on. “Fine? Really? So if I were to talk to Pepper, she’d tell me you sleep like a baby, right?”

Frowning, his eyes darted away from yours. “Well no, because I'm not a baby. I'm a man. She'd tell you I sleep like a man.”

“Only you don't. You think no one notices you spend all your time in the lab? And I wonder why it is you don't sleep,” you said in a low, biting tone. Your pulse was racing so hard your head throbbed. Muted colours pulsated around the edge of your vision.

“Here's the thing, we're not talking about me right now. And, I really need you to eat something.”

Slapping the bowl away from his outstretched fingers, you sent it flying towards the lounge in a spray of nuts and fruit.

“I'm not fucking hungry and I don't want any fucking peanuts!”

As it loudly bounced on the floor, the muscles in Tony's cheeks flexed from his tightly clenched jaw. Turning away from you, he looked back towards the wall of alcohol as he swallowed heavily. Not once did he glance towards the lounge that was now littered with his food stash.

“So if that's all,” you growled as you reached for your glass.

Tony snatched your wrist as he continued to look forward. When he spoke, his voice was eerily calm and controlled. “No. That's not all. I never got to say what I came in here to say yet. That was part of the deal, remember?”

Blinking slowly, he finally turned back to face you with his hand gripping your wrist. There was something in his hard stare that forced everything inside you to flip. Although your heart still hammered against your chest, the reason was a blur. Fear? Regret?

His nostrils flared and he let go of you, but his eyes never left yours. Finally, you looked away.

“Well? What is it then?” The words were tough, but the tone had no fire.

“It's not your fault,” he said firmly but gently.

Letting out a sudden exhale, your eyes snapped back to his. Inwardly, your unsteadiness grew, and it felt like you had just been slapped. Your lips curled into a sneer. “Excuse me?”

“I see you, Y/n. Ever since that mission, you've been carrying around all this guilt, but it's not your fault.” His deep brown eyes seemed to be full of genuine concern as he bluntly laid out his observation.

A lump rose in your throat and you bitterly choked it back down.

“Did you not see? The people...the family...in that car? If I had kept the fight contained to the evacuated street, that car wouldn't have been vaporized. It's my fault tha-"

“Your fault?” Tony's voice was sharp as he cut you off. Your sentence died with a glare.

Getting up from the stool, he spread his hands apart. “Was it your fault that the city was under attack? Because that's why people died, Y/n. And if you hadn't been there, more people would have died.”

Tears started to sting and you quickly rubbed your eyes, refusing to let them fall. “So what? I'm just innocent?”

“Of murder? Yes. Yes, you absolutely are innocent of that.”

Sliding off your stool, you stood toe to toe to him. “Do you feel innocent, Tony? Is that why you stopped all Stark weapon production in one fell swoop? Is that why you sleep like such a man?”

His nostrils flared again as his gaze moved to the side. “That's different.”

“Is it? Business is business. It's not like you were out there killing people.”

"No, it's not...I..." Stopping with a frustrated grunt, he rubbed his fingers along his forehead.

His eyebrows lifted with a look of determination before he tried again. “See, it is different. I don't sleep because I'm working. That's it. And I stopped producing weapons because I knew I could do better. Stark could stand for something better.”

"Better than contributing to the death of innocent people?"

“You being there didn't contribute to the death of that family. What happened to them was horrible, but it wasn't your fault.”

Somehow, it felt like a slap each time he told you that and it twisted your gut almost as harshly as seeing the video. When you spoke, you had to hiss it out past your teeth. “Stop saying that.”

Squeezing his eyes closed, he let out a long sigh and dropped his arms. “Fine. Look, I don't sleep at night because I can't. And it's not exactly guilt that keeps me up, but yeah, okay fine, there's stuff I need to deal with. And there's a lot I need to let go. Happy?”

The lump threatened to reform as your moment of righteous anger dissolved. But you desperately wanted to hold onto that anger since it was the only thing keeping everything else at bay. “Happy that I'm being hounded by a hypocrite? Not particularly. We're done.”

Your voice betrayed you as a waver ran through your words.

Sidestepping from between the stools, you were ready to storm out, but he quickly blocked your path. His hand carefully found your arm.

“Don't think of me as a hypocrite, then. Think of me as your ghost from Christmas future. You carry on like this, holding on to this stuff, and you're going to be just like me. I mean, not the billionaire playboy with all the best toys on the block part, of course.”

He paused long enough to gauge your reaction. There was none. He carried on, letting his faint grin drop.

“But the rest of it. I don't sleep...I can't...sleep. Do you have any idea how detrimental lack of sleep is on your brain functions? And I never stop long enough to realize I'm hungry, so Pepper has to practically force feed me. She's the one who insisted on all the snack food everywhere. And that's just the benign stuff. I could really dig into it if you wanted me to, but the only reason I haven't wasted away is Pepper's sheer stubbornness. I mean obviously, don't tell her that, but it's true.”

His thumb rubbed over your arm as he shot you a soft smile. But there was a deep sadness hiding behind it. “So when I say you need to let it go, you have to trust that I know what I'm talking about.”

Another wave crashed over you and you drew your lips into a tight line as your chin quivered. Dropping your gaze, you fought to keep control. You were not about to let yourself break down. “How? I don't...”

You made no attempt to pick your sentence back up.

Moving to stand beside you, Tony put his arm around your shoulders in a half hug as he started guiding you out of the lounge. “Clearly, I...I don't know either. But I'm pretty sure we can at least start with food and some sleep. Some real food.”

Your stomach was still tangled in knots and a rush of emotions still sat just at the back of your throat. But as he tucked you under his arm, the knots felt a little looser and it was a little easier to breathe.

And maybe you were a little hungry.

Looking back over at the lounge, you nodded to your mess. “Shouldn't I at least clean that up?”

Not slowing, Tony shrugged. “Nah. Hap'll get it. That's what I pay him for.”

As you tried to add his comment up, you wondered if your exhaustion was winning. But you were sure that wasn't right. “N-no it's not.”

Grinning, Tony shrugged again. Reaching the door, he held it open and gently guided you from the room with his hand on your back.

“Whatever. He'll do it anyhow.”

Taglist: @foreverfaeries @flower-two @getlostinyourparadise @selfishkiddo @angelicshinigami @natsukitakama

#tony stark x reader #iron man x reader #iron man #t6ksongfic #tony stark

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artificialqueens · 7 years

Text

See you in April (Chapter 2)

A/N - Hey guys, I’m back back back back back again! First of all thank you so much for the lovely feedback I received for Chapter 1, and I’m ever so sorry that this has taken so long - I won’t bore you all with the details but I have a lifelong medical condition that can sometimes flare up quite badly and I was all ready to finalise this chapter and submit it then bam, emergency surgery and 3 weeks in the hospital for me! But I’m back home now and ready for you guys.

Also, whilst I was in the hospital I got a bit carried away and this chapter ended up being close to 10,000 words… so I have split it into two parts and Chapter 2.5 will be with you soon. I would find the link for Chapter 1 in case you missed it but I’m clueless on my phone, but I’m sure you can find it in my author tag! For now, Chapter 2/2.5 is taking you on a long and angst ridden journey right back to where it all began, 6 months before Trixie steps into Katya’s apartment and has “the talk.” Backstory come through!

7 months ago

“And… cut. Great work today ladies. Tomorrow we just have the Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas and New Years videos to shoot and then we’re wrapped for the season!”

“Yes, gawd. Thanks Petey, you beautiful little whore.” Katya always lived up to her name as the sweatiest woman in show business but today she could feel her face slowly sliding off and the edges of her wig giving up on her. She looked over to Trixie fanning herself, looking as pristine as ever. “Come on, I’m literally 5 minutes away from drowning in my own liquids and I’m sick of you always looking better than me. Mother, let’s become real boys again.”

The two queens made their way into their shared dressing room and started wiping, pulling and untucking away their alter egos. Before long, two men were staring back at them in the mirror.

Trixie looked at himself in the mirror. He took his hands to his face and started using his fingers to contort his skin. “I can’t even make fun of you for being ancient anymore. I look so old and busted.”

Katya’s mouth dropped open. Is he fucking with me? He had never seen the younger man look better in his life. He had lost weight, toned up, was watching what he ate. He was gorgeous - but then again, Katya had believed that since the moment he saw him. It was just now the rest of the world agreed with him. “On one hand I wanna tell you the truth and say how fucking incredible and perfect you look, always, so that you feel better about yourself, and on the other hand I wanna agree with you and tell you that you look awful so that you will fall into my arms because you think no one else will ever want you.”

Trixie threw a breast pad at Katya and it hit him right on the face. “Bitch! You wish you could have me.” Yeah, I wish I could. “I just need a holiday or something. I’m tired of spreading fake tan all over my body, it smells like balls.”

“And you don’t like that? That’s the only reason I use it! You know the last time I went on holiday? Rehab. That’s the honest truth. I don’t even think I’ve had more than 4 days off in a row since the show. I wish I could you just fuck off to, I don’t know, Palm Springs or something.”

Trixie put down the bag he was packing, and gave Katya a familiar smile that told him he had an idea brewing.

“Why don’t we?”

“Why don’t we what?”

“Fuck off to Palm Springs.” Katya threw her a raised eyebrow. “I’m not joking, bitch!”

“Oh, at all.” The pair collapsed onto the couch in the dressing room, laughing at their simultaneous response. Trixie threw his legs up onto Katya’s lap and relaxed back onto the cushions. Katya rested his hand on the top of Trixie’s thigh and gave it a comforting squeeze. It was funny, Trixie had expressed time and time again how much he hated people getting in his personal space and having too much physical contact with other people, but he was never that way with Katya. Katya had noticed how easily Trixie would grab his hand and stroke his palm with his thumb, move Katya’s arm and wrap it around his shoulder, or stroke his hair when Katya was resting his head against him. He was always open and relaxed around him, and Katya was the same. He would find himself gravitating towards Trixie wherever they were and whoever they were with. It felt weird to see Trixie sit next to anyone else other than him, and he remembered more than one argument had with Trixie when Katya had sat next to another queen instead of him. If Trixie were to go on holiday without him he would get jealous, so…

“Why not? A little staycation might do us both some good, Barbra. When do you wanna go?”

“End of the month? We’ve both got gigs for the next 10 days but then we also both have 2 weeks off right after. It makes sense.” The grin on Trixie’s face was growing wider and wider with every sentence. “Are we going or what?”

“We’re going, kid. Pack your bag and bring your best tits. Let’s go have some fun.”

Six and a half months ago

Trixie opened the door on his side of the cab and thanked the driver for helping them with their bags. Katya was already up on the short wall in the front of the yard, doing handstands and jumps. This goof hasn’t been here 5 minutes and she’s already running around like a toddler. Trixie couldn’t help but smile at his flexible friend. He’d been through some real dark times in his life and yet here he was; positive, driven, fun, and with the most beautiful and genuine smile Trixie had ever seen in his life. He adored the older man and cherished being able to see his happiness finally shine through.

“Come on you old bitch, I know you’re excited but I’m not carrying your bag too.”

“Excuse me, Miss Fitness Journey Mattel. You bring the strength now, and I bring the personality. And the condoms and lube just in case.” The older man shot him a wink and left Trixie standing outside the front door, wondering whether he wanted it to be a joke or not.

The days passed in a happy blur. The two men spent the days lounging around by the pool in the house they were staying in, soaking the sun into their pale and over worked skin, relishing the daily change in colour and counting each new freckle that popped up. Trixie spent every day noticing just how much happier his friend was with every morning he woke up there; his skin glowing, his eyes getting brighter, his laugh somehow getting louder. He had never looked better. Or hotter. Their evenings were split between strolling to a new restaurant and coming back to the house to write some new material or introduce each other to films they had never watched. The older Brian forced his younger counterpart to sit through A Streetcar Named Desire, which Trixie concluded people only raved about because of Marlon Brando’s face. Tonight, however, was Trixie’s turn, and there was only one film he had in mind - Mean Girls.

“For fuck sake Brenda, you know I turned this off after 10 minutes and vowed to never watch it again. I refuse!”

“Uh uh, you know the rules. No refusals, no exceptions. Sorry ‘bout it.”

The older Brian groaned. “Fine. But I’m smoking a joint. It’s the only thing that will get me through it.”

“Well in that case, I’m gonna get drunk. Thank god I bought some margarita mix.” Trixie got up from the couch and made his way into the kitchen, and started on his cocktail creation. He hadn’t been drinking whilst they had been there, in solidarity with Katya. He was proud of him for resisting the enticement that often came with their line of work - at least when it came to alcohol anyway. Katya tended to seek out more physical pleasures when coming off stage instead, often taking trade back to the hotel whilst Trixie stayed in the room next door and heard it all. He would hear muffled footsteps at stupid o'clock in the morning and the click of the hotel room door as whoever it was disappeared back into the night, and wonder what Katya was doing once he was alone. And then you spend hours finding whoever he had just fucked on Facebook and plot their bloody downfall. And then you contemplate going into his room once he’s showered and showing him how it should really be done. And then you remind yourself that you turned him down a thousand times before in the name of business because you’re an idiot and just jerk off and go to sleep instead. And then you keep it all to yourself because all of your friends are either Asian virgins or have already fucked him and the thought of it makes you want to tear your own eyeball out with jealousy. Trixie shook his head free of the thought. Suppressed feelings had to remain just that. They had to. For their careers. Fuck your career, you don’t wanna be Trixie forever anyway. You want to write music in a big old house that you never have to leave, and any house is boring without him doing cartwheels around it and painting the walls bright yellow. No. It wouldn’t work. That very small window shut a long time ago. He finished off making his cocktail and took the jug and a glass back into the lounge with him. When he returned, a cloud of smoke was already surrounding Katya and he wore a satisfied smile.

“I know you don’t like me smoking around you but this is the price you must pay, Brenda. You can punish me in return.”

The heavy haze surrounding them must have seeped into Trixie’s lungs too, because he was only two drinks in and he was feeling something different to drunk. He felt just like Karen had said on the screen, like he had a fifth sense or something. His skin was buzzing with electricity, his eyes were seeing the sharpest colours, his ears picking up on the calm breath of his friend. Katya was next to him, one arm around Trixie’s waist and the other resting above his head, legs up on the coffee table. His hearty laugh made Trixie’s head jiggle about on his chest, so he moved his head up to the crook of Katya’s neck. He couldn’t see the film now, but it didn’t matter. He hadn’t been watching it anyway. With every laugh, every crinkle of his nose at a bad joke, every piece of social commentary, Trixie had found himself moving closer to the man. He couldn’t stop it, the blonde had magnets sewn into his bones that drew Trixie in without him even realising. And now he was coiled around him, thinking of nothing but how good he smelled and the warmth of his body. You in danger, girl. Calm yourself.

Katya tightened his grip around Trixie’s waist and pulled him in, so that the younger man was now pressed against his side. Trixie nuzzled his face into Katya’s neck and was greeted with a comforting sigh. As he rested, he felt the older man’s pulse beat underneath his lips. It sent a shiver down his spine. He placed a light kiss onto the other man’s neck and got a tiny moan in reply.

“Don’t try and give me blue balls, mama. That’s torture in its finest form. Either suck my dick or get away from me.”

Game on.

Trixie moved his head so that his mouth was up against Katya’s ear, and spoke in a hushed tone. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t help it.”

He knew what he was doing. They had teased each other a few times before, but it had only ever been harmless. But seeing the other man close his eyes and exhale deeply with arousal was giving him all the motivation he didn’t know he needed. “I think I feel a little bit buzzed.”

Katya turned his head to look at the brunette. “You do? You okay, feel sick or anything? I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have smoked so much around you.” The adoration and care that he had for Trixie was always dripping around every word he said to him. Trixie liked it, it made him feel safe. Katya would never hurt him. Unless I asked him to.

“Actually, I feel good. Like, really good.” Katya cocked an eyebrow to show his surprise at what Trixie was saying. “I mean it, I don’t feel drunk or wasted or out of control, I just feel… really fucking good.”

He looked the older man right in the eye, the corner of his mouth twitching into a slight smirk. “Only you could get me to enjoy something like this.”

“Oh believe me mama, there are plenty of things you would enjoy with me.” Trixie’s stomach flipped at the thought of the things Katya could do to him. He sat up and looked him up and down, taking him all in; his grey sweatpants clinging to all the right places, his hoodie zipped up only halfway so his abs were just peeking out to say hi, his short blonde hair messy and wild. He’s always been hot, but… Come on, tanned bod. Those blue eyes that had always drawn Trixie in were now doing the same to him and inspecting every part of him slowly. He was suddenly very aware of the unflattering t shirt he was wearing and lifted his arms up in a mock yawn to show off his own newly forming muscles. Katya’s eyes followed the hem of his t shirt just as he had hoped and he bit his bottom lip lightly. The silence in the room as the DVD turned itself off was unnoticeable - they were saying enough to each other with a single look. Trixie caught Katya’s gaze and held it. He licked his lips and moved himself just an inch closer.

Katya took a long drag of the joint, and blew the smoke into a stream that reached Trixie’s face instantly. Trixie leaned into it, resting his hand on the other man’s forearm and tracing the skin with his fingertips, feeling goosebumps rise to attention underneath his touch.

Do I want this? He wasn’t the kind of person to hook up with his friends casually. But Katya wasn’t just his friend, and everyone knew. Trixie had just never admitted it to himself. But what was stopping him now? He didn’t have a boyfriend, he wasn’t moping around after an ex. There wasn’t anyone to be loyal to any more except himself, and what he was feeling in that moment.

“Do that again.” The older man stared into his eyes for just a second too long and let out a whisper of a gasp as he realised where Trixie was going. Katya took one last drag and placed the joint back into the ashtray, letting it die out. Trixie leaned in once more, and as the last whiskers of smoke left Katya’s mouth, he took a deep breath to prepare himself and closed the space between their lips.

It was instantaneous - the tension between them was so high that their lips practically buzzed with electricity. They were moving, slowly, deeply into each other as Trixie climbed on top of him and wrapped his thighs around his toned waist. Katya had gotten over the initial shock of their lips finally meeting and was trying to pull Trixie closer even though they were already stuck to each other. Trixie teased open his mouth and flicked his tongue inside, greeted with the taste of virgin margaritas and smoke. He needed to be closer to him, this wasn’t enough. Their teeth clashed and noses crushed together as they battled each other for dominance, both desperately trying to somehow swallow the other whole with their hunger. He grasped at the other man’s hoodie and shoved it off his shoulders, doing the same with his t shirt once he had finished. The feeling of Katya’s skin against his was like velvet and he wanted to be covered in it.

This bitch is ripped, oh my god. I wanna lick his fucking stomach, sweet Jesus…“Fuck, you could have told me you were on your own fitness journey too.”

“God bless yoga! You know me, mama, I’m full of surprises.” Katya shifted himself up on the couch so that he was sat up straighter, and tilted his hips up into Trixie to find the friction they both desperately needed. Trixie’s lips found Katya’s once more as he let out a hushed moan. Trixie could feel the other man in between his legs and the pressure was rising by the second.

“You’re telling me… I thought I was the one with the big dick.”

“I’ll believe that when I see it.”

Trixie laughed into their kiss. He wrapped his arms around the other man’s neck and pushed him deeper into the couch cushions with every kiss, thrusting against him with a hunger he hadn’t felt in a long time. Katya ran his hands down Trixie’s waist and hesitated at the band of his track bottoms.

“Off.” Trixie ordered. Closer. Please.

“Yes ma’am.” Katya took off his pants but kept his underwear on, much to Trixie’s frustration, and then took off his own pants so that they both had on the same number of layers. Not close enough. Trixie used his new strength and threw Katya over to the other side of the corner sofa so that he was laying down and crawled towards him, taking in every last irresistible inch of him. He straddled Katya and brought his bottom lip into his teeth, sucking on it, before biting down hard.

“It’s not fair,” he started to slowly grind against the other man’s groin, “to tease me,” and lightly scratched his chest from the top all the way down to the band of his underwear, “and then not get me naked when I ask.”

The bulge that was threatening to burst out of Katya’s underwear told Trixie that he was very close to getting what he wanted. He was aching for him and he couldn’t take it much longer. He wished he could take a picture of Katya’s face in this moment - his swollen lips whispering “fuck” whilst he ran his hands all over Trixie in disbelief. He never wanted to look away. He leant down and skimmed his lips lightly against the other man’s and spoke in a whisper.

“Now or never. I choose now.”

Trixie licked his thumb and slowly traced his hand down Katya’s chest, finally reaching beneath his underwear. He took Katya’s length in his hand and used his slick thumb to play with the head of Katya’s dick. A guttural groan escaped Katya’s throat as Trixie finally stopped teasing him and started to pump him slowly, and he found Trixie’s ass and grabbed it like he was holding on for his life. Trixie’s veins were filled with fire, his whole body burning at the thought of the things this man was finally going to do to him. Katya’s mouth caressed his neck expertly, and he gently nibbled on his earlobe before he buried himself into one final, longing kiss.

“I don’t think you should choose ‘now’ now.”

Trixie’s eyes shot open as he snapped out of his bliss and sat up. “Wha-what did I do wrong? Do you not want this?”

“Bri, you will never fully understand just how much I want this. I’ve wanted this since, I don’t know, maybe 10 minutes after I first met you. And you have not done a single thing wrong. Believe me, the things you’re doing to me right now, you deserve to be fucked until you can’t remember your own name.” Trixie shivered at the thought. “But I want you to choose ‘now’ in a different circumstance. When I know that you’re definitely, completely sober. When you haven’t spent an entire week with me. When you don’t feel lonely and desperately single. I don’t want just ‘now.’ I want always, and I don’t want you to regret this.”

Trixie crawled forward back towards Katya and kissed him forcefully, desperately trying to make him feel his adoration. I don’t fucking deserve him. He had never had someone care for him like Katya did; knowing him better than he knew himself, knowing that yeah, he was feeling a little bit lonely and may have ended up regretting starting something when he wasn’t totally sober. But the fire still burning in the pit of his stomach from Katya’s touch had already done it - he knew what he wanted. And he was prepared to show him that in any circumstance.

“I get it. You’re right, not now. But soon. And FYI - I’ll do the same things to you in any circumstance.” Trixie climbed off the other man and found his track bottoms to put back on. As he looked back up, Katya was staring at him and biting down on his bottom lip.

“Oh god Brenda, I hope you do. I cannot believe I just controlled myself like that, you are a work of art.”

“Drink it all in bitch.”

“Oh, I plan to.” Katya threw a pillow at him as he found his own shorts and put them back on. They fell back onto the sofa and Katya curled his arm back around Trixie’s waist and pulled him closer. He placed a soft kiss on Trixie’s lips, then his nose, then his forehead. “A work of art.”

Trixie fell asleep in his arms.

The next morning

Katya woke with a familiar dryness lying uncomfortably on his tongue. God damn it, weed really does turn your mouth into the fucking Sahara. Somewhere behind him he could hear running water, and a dulcet tone singing a Dolly Parton song. He leaned back into the sofa with a smile, remembering what had happened last night. He straddled you, Barbra. Practically begged you. And you held your ground? You fool. You could have gotten some grade A dick that you’ve been waiting for since 2014 and you decided you would rather wait until he wasn’t as lonely? You realise that you’re basically telling him he needs to go and fuck someone else first, right?! No way, he wasn’t going to get in his head about this. He had been waiting for so long for Trixie to get rid of his shitty boyfriends that treated him like dirt and admit the way he felt since literally the day he had met him. He wasn’t going to have it all begin with some second hand smoke and a lonely fumble at 2am. He could wait a little while longer. He reached over to the coffee table and picked up his phone.

08/10/2016

11:23am Katya: Happened. Kind of. Not really. But he started it and I said no. Wanna wait.

Alaska: Boots. How is she though?

Katya: You mean the dick? Didn’t get to it. Put the Palm in Palm Springs for me though.

Alaska: Interestiiiiiiiiiing. You owe me 5 bucks.

Alaska: And don’t make him wait too long. He’s hot and a romantic so the first cute guy that comes along with a flower or a burrito or some shit will distract him for another 6 months and then you’ll be back to square one (which reminds me, I’d like to take a minute to talk about Squarespace)

Katya: True. I just knew he would overthink it and then come up with ways to regret it. You got any ugly friends we can set him up with so he realises I’m numero uno?

Alaska: I’ll see if Sharon’s free.

Katya yelled at the text with glee. Alaska had been right, Trixie really did feel something for him. He could still feel his kiss lingering on his mouth. That had to mean something, right?

As he placed his phone back down on the coffee table, he saw Trixie’s light up next to it. He glanced over and saw a text flash up on the screen.

08/10/2016

Dan Bar: Hey Brian, it’s Dan from Essence on Friday. I hadn’t heard from you since we switched numbers and I just thought I would make a last ditch attempt at asking you out. I know you’re going home today but I’m gonna be in WeHo a week from Thursday, so hit me up if you’re free and willing to waste some time on me. x

And just who the fuck is this? I don’t know a Dan. Does he know a Dan? From Friday? And then suddenly he remembered - they had gone out to a bar on Friday, and this short Jewish guy had been eyeing up Trixie all night. He was cute, sure, but he hadn’t been Trixie’s type at all. He didn’t have a chance with him, right? Well, I’m not Trixie’s type either… What was he gonna do if Trixie actually went on a date with this guy? He had basically told him that he wanted Trixie to not be starting something with him just because he was lonely. So maybe this would be perfect - he could go out with this guy on a couple of dates and boost his confidence up, and then come straight back to Katya’s apartment after date number three and finally fuck his brains out. That could work. Man, I should have fucked him last night so that he knew just how great it would be with me before I basically send him on a date with someone else. Didn’t think that one through, did you Barbra?

“I swear to god, that water pressure is so powerful that if you could move that shower head around I would use it for sexual pleasure.” Trixie came out of the bathroom wearing just a towel wrapped around his waist.

“Oh god. Oh my fucking god. If you stand in front of me like that for one more fucking second I am going to go back on my self-control and test out that shower head theory with you right now. God damn it you bitch, trying to give me a boner at this time in the morning.”

Trixie shot Katya a lopsided smirk. “My plan is working, I see.”

Oh god, now he’s teasing you on purpose. You sure you wanna be the bigger person? Because I’m pretty sure you could just bend him over that breakfast bar right now and–

“You bet your ass it’s working. You cunt. Now go and pack my bag, we need to be out of here by 2.”

“Nice try. Do it yourself, whore.”

“I’ve already done myself this morning after the blue balls you gave me last night, mama.”

“Excuse me, if I had got my way you would be feeling very satisfied and have balls lighter than a feather this morning. So go pack.”

The pair erupted into laughter from across the room, and shared a complacent smile. Katya was relieved that nothing had changed between them. Trixie walked towards him and picked up his phone from the coffee table. Here we go. He watched as Trixie picked up his phone and read the text, face giving nothing away. He peeked in the direction of Katya for half a second and then locked the screen, seemingly without replying. Katya couldn’t help himself.

“Anyone interesting texted you?” Clever. Now you’ve made it obvious you looked at his phone. He looked over at Trixie with a smile he knew was nowhere near as casual as he was trying to make it.

Trixie smiled back knowingly. “Mmhm. The guy that came on to me on Friday, remember I gave him my number? He’s asked to take me out next week, he’s gonna be in WeHo.”

“Ah, cool. Yeah, that’s cool. Coolcoolcool.” Katya opened his can of Red Bull and drank the whole thing in one go, as slowly as he could. Great delay tactics there, Brenda. Really looking like you’re not jealous at all. “So you’re gonna go then, huh?”

“That depends.”

“On what?”

“On you.”

Katya finally allowed himself to look up from his can and at Trixie’s face. He had just a hint of a smile resting on his face, but the sincerity of what he was saying shone through. This wasn’t the time for joking.

“On me?”

“Yeah, girl, you. Are we gonna… watch Mean Girls again or will you have a new favourite movie by next week?”

And there it was. Trixie was never going to really put his all into whatever could be here because of Katya’s past. He didn’t think he would be capable of anything more than being the “sexually fluid and committedly promiscuous trade Slut” he had been for the past few years. What the fuck was I meant to do while you were going through a parade of cunty guys who treated you like shit? Sit there and wait until my dick fell off for you to realise that you may possibly have a great catch over here? Not my gay ass, mama. And if I’m so unreliable, why did YOU start things last night? And why was I the one to be sensible? And why can I still only think of your fucking fingertips tracing my skin and making me feel like I was on the biggest trip of my life? How is that healthy for either of us? He noticed Trixie shifting uncomfortably on his feet and realised his internal monologue of all the things he wished he could say had probably gone on for too long and that the frustration on his face was becoming clear. He couldn’t think straight. He had to end this conversation now before it became an external monologue and he said something to hurt his favourite person in the world.

“Well you know, I’ve never really had a favourite movie… just a top 10 that I watch in rotation.” Katya could feel himself distancing as he always did. Don’t do it. Show him that he’s all you want. “I don’t really believe that anyone ever has just one perfect… movie… for them.” Yes you do. “I think that there are lots of movies that can make you feel the same way that your favourite movie makes you feel.” You can still feel him touching you, you liar. “I don’t think you should get too attached to a film, to be honest.” Now or never, Barbra. Looks like you’ve chosen never.

#see you in april #trixya #trixie mattel #katya zamolodchikova #angst #smut #tw drugs #tw alcohol #nqotb #rpdr fanfiction #canon compliant

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