(no subject)
Oct. 18th, 2017 02:16 pmHe shouldn't have stepped out for his break.
Inside, it feels like nearly any other night at Styx, albeit one that's a bit more raucous than usual. Rick had insisted the club stay open despite the Purge, refusing to back down on "the single most important gay holiday of the year." He'd also insisted on increased security at least, but the large men in police gear stationed at the front door and littered throughout the crowd blend right in, looking more like extra members of the Village People than actual enforcement.
It's loud and wild and Freddie's made more in tips tonight than he has all week, largely in part because he's wearing little more than glittery hot pants and his entire torso is streaked with various neon shades of body paint.
Even in so little, he's nearly boiling alive when he steps out for some fresh air, goose pimples erupting over his skin the minute he steps out.( Cut for depictions of sexual violence and threats of sexual violence. )
Inside, it feels like nearly any other night at Styx, albeit one that's a bit more raucous than usual. Rick had insisted the club stay open despite the Purge, refusing to back down on "the single most important gay holiday of the year." He'd also insisted on increased security at least, but the large men in police gear stationed at the front door and littered throughout the crowd blend right in, looking more like extra members of the Village People than actual enforcement.
It's loud and wild and Freddie's made more in tips tonight than he has all week, largely in part because he's wearing little more than glittery hot pants and his entire torso is streaked with various neon shades of body paint.
Even in so little, he's nearly boiling alive when he steps out for some fresh air, goose pimples erupting over his skin the minute he steps out.( Cut for depictions of sexual violence and threats of sexual violence. )
(no subject)
Jul. 12th, 2017 11:01 pmFreddie has no idea how long he's been stuck like this. He hadn't really paid all that much attention to the time before wandering out and time, it seems, passes differently when you're hopping about on four legs.
He'd only gone out to pop in on Biffy. Trouble is, he's not all that certain on where Biffy's place is, having only been there the once. It's not too surprising that he'd gotten a bit lost and the little cottage he'd found had been eerie from the start, yet he couldn't have predicted that this would happen in particular.
At first, he thought maybe he'd accidentally eaten some mushrooms or been slipped some other hallucinogen without his knowledge. Though he hadn't spoken or really even seen anyone in over an hour, he couldn't imagine any other explanation. In the blink of an eye, the entire world around him had reoriented itself, every object looming high above him and the air oddly distorted, sounds louder and heavier, shaking the ground beneath him, every smell somehow sharper and duller both at once.
It was dizzying, sending him reeling and he nearly toppled over on the spot.
Which is when he realized his legs weren't working properly. And, rather, that he didn't have legs at all. At least not human ones.
He'd managed to not pass out on the spot, but the sound he made could only be described as a scream. Or a slowly deflating balloon.
He's started running then. Or hopping. Back out of the cabin and through the woods, over branches and rocks and through a creek, as fast as his four legs could carry him. He had no idea where to go, which way direction might lead back to the city, or what he'd do once he got there.
Sheer exhaustion is all that's stopped him now, his heart still pounding as he tries to catch his breath. He aches all over and, though he has a feeling he's not sweating, it certainly feels like he should be.
He's never felt so scared.
And that's when he hears it, a familiar voice ringing through the trees, light and happy and carefree.
Noah.
Hope blooms inside the tiny cavern of his chest and he immediately opens his mouth to call out. His words come out as nothing more than a distressed ribbit that's so alarming he immediately shuts his mouth in horror, eyes wide and body glued to the spot.
He'd only gone out to pop in on Biffy. Trouble is, he's not all that certain on where Biffy's place is, having only been there the once. It's not too surprising that he'd gotten a bit lost and the little cottage he'd found had been eerie from the start, yet he couldn't have predicted that this would happen in particular.
At first, he thought maybe he'd accidentally eaten some mushrooms or been slipped some other hallucinogen without his knowledge. Though he hadn't spoken or really even seen anyone in over an hour, he couldn't imagine any other explanation. In the blink of an eye, the entire world around him had reoriented itself, every object looming high above him and the air oddly distorted, sounds louder and heavier, shaking the ground beneath him, every smell somehow sharper and duller both at once.
It was dizzying, sending him reeling and he nearly toppled over on the spot.
Which is when he realized his legs weren't working properly. And, rather, that he didn't have legs at all. At least not human ones.
He'd managed to not pass out on the spot, but the sound he made could only be described as a scream. Or a slowly deflating balloon.
He's started running then. Or hopping. Back out of the cabin and through the woods, over branches and rocks and through a creek, as fast as his four legs could carry him. He had no idea where to go, which way direction might lead back to the city, or what he'd do once he got there.
Sheer exhaustion is all that's stopped him now, his heart still pounding as he tries to catch his breath. He aches all over and, though he has a feeling he's not sweating, it certainly feels like he should be.
He's never felt so scared.
And that's when he hears it, a familiar voice ringing through the trees, light and happy and carefree.
Noah.
Hope blooms inside the tiny cavern of his chest and he immediately opens his mouth to call out. His words come out as nothing more than a distressed ribbit that's so alarming he immediately shuts his mouth in horror, eyes wide and body glued to the spot.
(no subject)
Apr. 17th, 2017 06:13 pmFreddie'd be lying if he claimed to not have thought of Biffy once since the party. The whole night had felt like a blur in the days immediately following, like a series of fever dreams, each one bleeding into the next. Biffy hadn't been the only one Freddie had fooled around with that evening, but he'd been the one to leave the biggest impression.
They'd exchanged numbers, though Freddie had yet to call or even message. Given the wine and the atmosphere of the night, it's likely the evening had been just as much of a blur for Biffy.
Even if they had left together.
But that had been two months ago, more than enough time to be forgotten.
So he's not thinking of Valentine's Day or Biffy or anything more than figuring out what kind of canned food to get for his damn cat when he spots a familiar figure out the corner of his eye. He glances over, not sure whether it really is Biffy or someone who happens to share his face. He isn't dressed how Freddie remembers, but looks rather posh where he stands and, Freddie realizes half a moment too late that he's been caught staring.
He forces himself not to appear awkward, lips twitching upward in a feeble smile as he nods. "Should've told me you'd be here. Might've dressed up for the occasion."
They'd exchanged numbers, though Freddie had yet to call or even message. Given the wine and the atmosphere of the night, it's likely the evening had been just as much of a blur for Biffy.
Even if they had left together.
But that had been two months ago, more than enough time to be forgotten.
So he's not thinking of Valentine's Day or Biffy or anything more than figuring out what kind of canned food to get for his damn cat when he spots a familiar figure out the corner of his eye. He glances over, not sure whether it really is Biffy or someone who happens to share his face. He isn't dressed how Freddie remembers, but looks rather posh where he stands and, Freddie realizes half a moment too late that he's been caught staring.
He forces himself not to appear awkward, lips twitching upward in a feeble smile as he nods. "Should've told me you'd be here. Might've dressed up for the occasion."
[2/15] morning after
Feb. 17th, 2017 12:17 pmThough hardly a stranger to hangovers, this one it seems, is particularly heinous.
There's a ringing at his door, the sound piercing through the fog in his brain as he buries a groan into his pillow. His entire body aches, his muscles heavy and he closes his eyes tight against the bad dreams that have apparently decided to pervade his conscious thoughts.
"Fuck off," he grumbles when the bell sounds again, followed quickly by a firm, but polite knock.
Groaning loudly then, Freddie shoves his covers off his shoulders and swings his legs to the floor, frowning against the immediately intense pounding in his head. "I said fuck off," he growls though he's already padding his way through his flat, clad in the same pair of briefs and dress shirt from the night before. He'd gotten as far as unbuttoning, it seems, before he'd given up.
He doesn't bother checking the eyelet to see who's bothering him so early and his lips twist into a confused frown when he finds Noah on the other side, beaming up at him.
There's a ringing at his door, the sound piercing through the fog in his brain as he buries a groan into his pillow. His entire body aches, his muscles heavy and he closes his eyes tight against the bad dreams that have apparently decided to pervade his conscious thoughts.
"Fuck off," he grumbles when the bell sounds again, followed quickly by a firm, but polite knock.
Groaning loudly then, Freddie shoves his covers off his shoulders and swings his legs to the floor, frowning against the immediately intense pounding in his head. "I said fuck off," he growls though he's already padding his way through his flat, clad in the same pair of briefs and dress shirt from the night before. He'd gotten as far as unbuttoning, it seems, before he'd given up.
He doesn't bother checking the eyelet to see who's bothering him so early and his lips twist into a confused frown when he finds Noah on the other side, beaming up at him.
(no subject)
Jan. 8th, 2017 04:48 pmIf asked, Freddie would be hard-pressed to say why he does it. There's an itch beneath his skin, an ache he's refusing to examine too closely even as he grabs the bottle of wine from his cupboard and the tablets stuffed in the top drawer of his night table.
He considers changing course in the car on the way over, considers tapping on the driver's shoulder and directing him to Jake's place. Or to Noah's. Either one would give him what he wants, he thinks, if he played his cards right. He'd have a laugh and a fuck and he'd maybe stay for breakfast before heading back to his flat.
But it wouldn't scratch the itch, he doesn't think. There's only one person he knows of who could.
So half an hour later, he's outside Philip's flat, bottle of wine dangling between two fingers and tabs tucked in the pocket of his coat as he rings the bell. There's every chance Philip's not even in for the night, could be out with one of his other fucks, or working. Freddie's not rung or texted in advance to find out for sure.
He ignores the strange ball of nerves under his skin that surface at the idea that he might be standing out here uselessly like an idiot and rings the bell again.
He considers changing course in the car on the way over, considers tapping on the driver's shoulder and directing him to Jake's place. Or to Noah's. Either one would give him what he wants, he thinks, if he played his cards right. He'd have a laugh and a fuck and he'd maybe stay for breakfast before heading back to his flat.
But it wouldn't scratch the itch, he doesn't think. There's only one person he knows of who could.
So half an hour later, he's outside Philip's flat, bottle of wine dangling between two fingers and tabs tucked in the pocket of his coat as he rings the bell. There's every chance Philip's not even in for the night, could be out with one of his other fucks, or working. Freddie's not rung or texted in advance to find out for sure.
He ignores the strange ball of nerves under his skin that surface at the idea that he might be standing out here uselessly like an idiot and rings the bell again.
(no subject)
Dec. 1st, 2016 10:06 pmThey were bound to run into on another, Freddie imagines. As big a city as Darrow is, it does feel abnormally small at times; Freddie's found he runs into familiar faces all the time, particularly the ones he'd rather not.
But he can't say he's displeased to see Noah stepping out of the coffee shop, his hands wrapped around a small cup capped off with a little plastic lid.
"So how do ghosts take their coffee then?" he asks from just behind Noah. He's got his coat done all the way up and his mittened hands shoved in his pockets, a woolen cap on over his ears and he has to tug one earbud out to hear if Noah responds. Though part of him wonders if he even will.
It's been well over a month since they last saw one another. A month since Noah let it drop just what he is. A month to try to bend his head around to the idea that he'd spent several, several weeks fucking a ghost, a boy who's somehow magically tied to a body he may or may not actually possess. Freddie still has a million questions about the whole thing, but he's made no attempt at contacting Noah to ask a single one.
It's a wonder he's doing so now.
But he can't say he's displeased to see Noah stepping out of the coffee shop, his hands wrapped around a small cup capped off with a little plastic lid.
"So how do ghosts take their coffee then?" he asks from just behind Noah. He's got his coat done all the way up and his mittened hands shoved in his pockets, a woolen cap on over his ears and he has to tug one earbud out to hear if Noah responds. Though part of him wonders if he even will.
It's been well over a month since they last saw one another. A month since Noah let it drop just what he is. A month to try to bend his head around to the idea that he'd spent several, several weeks fucking a ghost, a boy who's somehow magically tied to a body he may or may not actually possess. Freddie still has a million questions about the whole thing, but he's made no attempt at contacting Noah to ask a single one.
It's a wonder he's doing so now.
[9/27] an awkward meeting
Sep. 27th, 2016 10:42 pmIf there's one thing Freddie doesn't like about his job at the coffee shop, it's the hours. The hours are shit. Particularly for someone whose recreational time tends to extend quite far into the early hours of the morning.
In truth, Freddie feels he deserves some sort of medal for having called in only a time or two since his start at the shop two months ago. On this particular morning he's not even running late, though that's likely due to the fact that he's not yet slept. The guy he'd brought back left a half an hour ago, giving Freddie enough time to at least wash off the jizz and make himself some toast before heading into work.
He has half the toast in his mouth, in fact, as he's leaving, arms occupied with looping his satchel over his head as he turns to lock the door to his flat.
Early as it is he's not expecting anyone else to be up, but the next door over swings open then to reveal one Alec Lightwood. The one with the tats, the one that's his neighbor's boyfriend.
Freddie bites off a bit of toast, chewing as he tugs the rest free and chews thoughtfully, making no effort to hide his appreciative glance of Alec's person from head to toe. "Sneaking out early, are you?" he asks with a grin. "Not very boyfriendly behaviour, that."
In truth, Freddie feels he deserves some sort of medal for having called in only a time or two since his start at the shop two months ago. On this particular morning he's not even running late, though that's likely due to the fact that he's not yet slept. The guy he'd brought back left a half an hour ago, giving Freddie enough time to at least wash off the jizz and make himself some toast before heading into work.
He has half the toast in his mouth, in fact, as he's leaving, arms occupied with looping his satchel over his head as he turns to lock the door to his flat.
Early as it is he's not expecting anyone else to be up, but the next door over swings open then to reveal one Alec Lightwood. The one with the tats, the one that's his neighbor's boyfriend.
Freddie bites off a bit of toast, chewing as he tugs the rest free and chews thoughtfully, making no effort to hide his appreciative glance of Alec's person from head to toe. "Sneaking out early, are you?" he asks with a grin. "Not very boyfriendly behaviour, that."
[10/3] a stalker's reunion
Sep. 27th, 2016 08:19 pmFreddie leaves with a few scratches up his back, a smear of red lipstick across his neck, and a number in his phone that he deletes as soon as the lift has reached the lobby.
It's hardly the worst or most terrifying evening he's ever had, but it'd been a bit more than he'd been expecting for a week night. Brenda had seemed perfectly fine, perfectly sane, at least via text and over a drink, but once they'd gotten back to her flat, it'd been a bit like flipping a switch and suddenly Freddie found himself being called daddy in a way that hadn't been the least bit arousing.
In the end, he'd faked an emergency and promised to ring her later before grabbing his things and running out the door.
The walk back to High Gate is only half a mile and Freddie spends a good portion of it perusing through his app after he's deleted Brenda's last communication. He's very nearly home when he gets a message from a bloke called Wyatt who's about a mile in the other direction. For a moment, Freddie considers it -- he could walk there fairly easily, maybe make this night not a complete wash.
Slowing to a stop, he notices a movement out the corner of his eye and glances up, squinting into the darkness.
He listens.
Waits.
Unease prickles at the back of his neck when he sees another flicker of movement in the shadows. "Oi, who's there?"
It's hardly the worst or most terrifying evening he's ever had, but it'd been a bit more than he'd been expecting for a week night. Brenda had seemed perfectly fine, perfectly sane, at least via text and over a drink, but once they'd gotten back to her flat, it'd been a bit like flipping a switch and suddenly Freddie found himself being called daddy in a way that hadn't been the least bit arousing.
In the end, he'd faked an emergency and promised to ring her later before grabbing his things and running out the door.
The walk back to High Gate is only half a mile and Freddie spends a good portion of it perusing through his app after he's deleted Brenda's last communication. He's very nearly home when he gets a message from a bloke called Wyatt who's about a mile in the other direction. For a moment, Freddie considers it -- he could walk there fairly easily, maybe make this night not a complete wash.
Slowing to a stop, he notices a movement out the corner of his eye and glances up, squinting into the darkness.
He listens.
Waits.
Unease prickles at the back of his neck when he sees another flicker of movement in the shadows. "Oi, who's there?"
(no subject)
Aug. 25th, 2016 10:10 pm[continued from here]
Philip manages to open the door to his flat in record time and soon enough they're on the other side of it. Anticipation rockets up Freddie's spine as he crowds in closer, his hands slipping up under Philips shirt, wasting no time at all in loosening the buckle of his belt and getting to the fastening of his trousers just beneath. He growls into the rough press of Philip's lips, licking past the seam, hungry for more already, every nerve in his body buzzing with want.
"Doesn't sound like too bad a job to me," he admits as he pulls back, panting slightly and then biting his lip as he loosens Philips pants enough to get his hand inside the fabric, fingers curling over the swell of his cock through his underpants as he steps in closer, close enough to breath against the curve of Philip's jaw. "Think I might even work hard at something like that. I've always been told I should do what I love. And I love fucking."
He gives Philip a good squeeze then, tracing the length of Philip as well as he's able before pressing his lips to Philip's jaw and breathing against him. "What d'you say, then? Think you can get it up for the Prince?"
Philip manages to open the door to his flat in record time and soon enough they're on the other side of it. Anticipation rockets up Freddie's spine as he crowds in closer, his hands slipping up under Philips shirt, wasting no time at all in loosening the buckle of his belt and getting to the fastening of his trousers just beneath. He growls into the rough press of Philip's lips, licking past the seam, hungry for more already, every nerve in his body buzzing with want.
"Doesn't sound like too bad a job to me," he admits as he pulls back, panting slightly and then biting his lip as he loosens Philips pants enough to get his hand inside the fabric, fingers curling over the swell of his cock through his underpants as he steps in closer, close enough to breath against the curve of Philip's jaw. "Think I might even work hard at something like that. I've always been told I should do what I love. And I love fucking."
He gives Philip a good squeeze then, tracing the length of Philip as well as he's able before pressing his lips to Philip's jaw and breathing against him. "What d'you say, then? Think you can get it up for the Prince?"
[7/14] a job, a coffee, a date, and more
Jul. 14th, 2016 09:15 pmFreddie's been told by more than one person now that new money will keep popping into his account every month with absolutely no input or cause by him. No one knows where it comes from, apparently, but it's supposedly enough to pay for rent and food and basics. It's enough to get by fairly comfortably.
There's a part of him tempted to wait and see if it's true. It's been a long while since Freddie's not had to work some sort of shit job to get by living on his own, but after the warehouse and considering the fact he can't rely on his parents here even if he wanted to, he's not about to take any chances.
After the first few applications he's turned in, Freddie's realized no one here's really bothering to check for honesty. So when he shows up at the coffee shop just down the road, he flashes a wide, easy smile to the woman across the counter and asks to speak the manager. Just as he'd hoped, she not only is the manager, but also the owner, and after about fifteen minutes wherein Freddie insists he has loads of experience both in food service (not a lie at all) and barista work specifically (not technically a lie) he's secured himself both a new job and a date for Saturday night.
It's enough to land him quite a good mood and he happily orders himself a dark roast in celebration and plants himself in an empty table near the window.
With only two other customers, the shop is fairly empty. There's an older lady off in the corner on her computer and a younger lad only a table away, his nose stuck in a booth. There's something strangely familiar about him, Freddie thinks, but he's coming to realize that isn't a wholly unusual sensation.
Taking a sip of his coffee, Freddie slips his mobile out of his back pocket and swipe through to pull up Bangr, lips twitching into a grin when he finds a photo of a truly lovely pair of abs.
There's a part of him tempted to wait and see if it's true. It's been a long while since Freddie's not had to work some sort of shit job to get by living on his own, but after the warehouse and considering the fact he can't rely on his parents here even if he wanted to, he's not about to take any chances.
After the first few applications he's turned in, Freddie's realized no one here's really bothering to check for honesty. So when he shows up at the coffee shop just down the road, he flashes a wide, easy smile to the woman across the counter and asks to speak the manager. Just as he'd hoped, she not only is the manager, but also the owner, and after about fifteen minutes wherein Freddie insists he has loads of experience both in food service (not a lie at all) and barista work specifically (not technically a lie) he's secured himself both a new job and a date for Saturday night.
It's enough to land him quite a good mood and he happily orders himself a dark roast in celebration and plants himself in an empty table near the window.
With only two other customers, the shop is fairly empty. There's an older lady off in the corner on her computer and a younger lad only a table away, his nose stuck in a booth. There's something strangely familiar about him, Freddie thinks, but he's coming to realize that isn't a wholly unusual sensation.
Taking a sip of his coffee, Freddie slips his mobile out of his back pocket and swipe through to pull up Bangr, lips twitching into a grin when he finds a photo of a truly lovely pair of abs.
(no subject)
Jul. 11th, 2016 08:01 pmThe taxis don't go very far.
That'd been nearly the first thing Freddie had learned in his short time here. He'd climbed into one early one morning, gave the driver a friendly tap on the shoulder and told him to just keep driving. And he had. For over an hour.
Even now, Freddie isn't entirely sure how many times he saw the exact same buildings over and over before realizing he wasn't going anywhere.
It's been three days -- two and a half, really -- and he's already spent a couple hundred quid of whatever some mysterious benefactor had left in the account in his name. Most of it had gone to clothing and a few groceries and the taxi from the other morning. Noah had explained that he'd get more every month, just deposited for no reason. He didn't even have to get a job!
It doesn't feel right. None of it.
But as Freddie wanders the boardwalk, the breeze off the water making a mess of his hair and the sea air stinging his nose, he can't deny that it doesn't feel like a bad gig. The flat he's been gifted is a quarter the size of the warehouse, but it came fully furnished so it's probably not a scam. His landlord at least doesn't seem like a gangster.
He has every reason to believe this place is just as fucked as he's been told but, for now, he's leaning against the railing, dressed in swim trunks and a loose white tank. It's summer here, he's learned, the air hot and sticky. There are dozens of people out and about, each of them clad in wonderfully revealing clothing. Freddie has his earbuds in, enjoying the view as he sucks on an obscenely large sugary drink he'd spent far too much money on, when his gaze catches on a pair of strikingly beautiful eyes.
Swallowing his sip, Freddie lifts his head, grinning his approval when those eyes finally land on him.
That'd been nearly the first thing Freddie had learned in his short time here. He'd climbed into one early one morning, gave the driver a friendly tap on the shoulder and told him to just keep driving. And he had. For over an hour.
Even now, Freddie isn't entirely sure how many times he saw the exact same buildings over and over before realizing he wasn't going anywhere.
It's been three days -- two and a half, really -- and he's already spent a couple hundred quid of whatever some mysterious benefactor had left in the account in his name. Most of it had gone to clothing and a few groceries and the taxi from the other morning. Noah had explained that he'd get more every month, just deposited for no reason. He didn't even have to get a job!
It doesn't feel right. None of it.
But as Freddie wanders the boardwalk, the breeze off the water making a mess of his hair and the sea air stinging his nose, he can't deny that it doesn't feel like a bad gig. The flat he's been gifted is a quarter the size of the warehouse, but it came fully furnished so it's probably not a scam. His landlord at least doesn't seem like a gangster.
He has every reason to believe this place is just as fucked as he's been told but, for now, he's leaning against the railing, dressed in swim trunks and a loose white tank. It's summer here, he's learned, the air hot and sticky. There are dozens of people out and about, each of them clad in wonderfully revealing clothing. Freddie has his earbuds in, enjoying the view as he sucks on an obscenely large sugary drink he'd spent far too much money on, when his gaze catches on a pair of strikingly beautiful eyes.
Swallowing his sip, Freddie lifts his head, grinning his approval when those eyes finally land on him.