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mrs-weasley-reid · 9 months ago

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SUIT JACKET

Aaron Hotchner x bau!reader ↳ part 2 here

Sypnosis: Aaron Hotchner seems to love his suit jacket on you. WARNING: nothing besides a few curses (I think) A/N: not my gif, ctto! This was also sitting on my drafts for almost a year and barely proofread, so I apologize for the errors.

Sunday, March 11, 2:04 AM

"Thanks, unibrow." You grinned drunkenly, smiling at your boss, SSA Aaron Hotchner, as you collapsed in the cab's backseat. His suit jacket kept you cozy and covered like a cocoon while you comfortably giggled at the applied inside joke of his new nickname.

With Penelope's constant peer pressure, your inhibition has reached rock bottom eleven shots, five cocktails, and two whiskey glasses ago. You downed liquor like water, easing your stiff shoulders.

Aaron only stared at you with the same impassive face he had and shut the door before the cold caught you. He hunched in front of the driver's window, "This woman is a federal agent, and if something happens to her, I'll hunt you down. Please, drive her home safely." He straightened back up, casually tapping the vehicle's roof.

The cab took you away only after Aaron snapped a picture of the cab's plate number. He sighed as the vehicle slowly disappeared from his line of sight. He twisted on the balls of his feet, met by his other children, agents drunkenly calling his name.

Tuesday, March 27, 10:14 AM

You scurried out of the elevator, weaving through the sea of agents in the bullpen and then to the conference room where everybody was already settled in.

"So sorry! There was this son of a b—" You closed your eyes and breathed deeply, clenching your fists. Then, you exhaled profoundly with a calm smile at the end. "I got in a car accident. Go on, Pen. Sorry for interrupting." You took a seat between Aaron and JJ.

JJ turned to you, "Are you okay?" Her hand gently landed on one of yours, giving you a worried squeeze.

You gathered a smile and raised a thumb, "Thick skull and strong bones. Nothing can break me, not even this unsub... whoa—" Your eyes widened a bit.

How ironic for your case to be about an unsub who performed a craniotomy on the victims. You smiled awkwardly, the similar tight-lipped smile that Spencer would always plaster on his face.

The other agents coughed a chuckle at your reaction while Penelope continued the debrief with the same horrified look.

Upon listening to the case details, you slowly felt colder, subtly rubbing the sides of your shoulders. You were so caught up in your anger towards the guy that rear-ended you you could've sworn your body was overheating. You left your blazer somewhere and were sure it wasn't in your wrecked car.

"Alright, wheels up in 30," Aaron announced, sending everyone to get out of their seats and grab their go bags and snapping you off your trance in the process.

You rushed to collect your file copy and headed for the door but halted when Aaron called you. You pivoted on your heels, "Yes?"

He was taking off his jacket, handing it to you as soon as it peeled off his body.

"I don't think dry cleaning your suit is part of my job description, Sir." You kidded as you stared at his black jacket.

Aaron rolled his eyes. It was so rare that you had to blink twice to ensure you didn't have a concussion from your minor car accident. "You're cold." He wasn't asking, plainly stating your slight predicament.

Your eyebrows knitted, mouth slightly opened. And as if the universe was mocking you, a sudden draft slapped you in a shiver. You snatched his jacket and mumbled a small thank you.

As you walked out of the conference room, teasing eyes bore holes into your being. Each BAU team member's narrowed brows held you captive, and their loud thoughts rang in your ears. You ignored all of it, though, taming your anxiety with the warmth of Aaron's jacket.

Wednesday, April 13, 1:37 PM

"Garcia, look for old cases with one young boy as a survivor." Aaron started, listing each task that everyone was to complete.

You were so focused on the case that your next movement caught you off guard.

Your back snapped straight from the slap of Minnesota air. It was brief. An officer merely opened and closed the door, but your body was nowhere near as warm as it was a few seconds ago.

The warmth of cotton fabric soon hugged your shoulders, along with the momentary weight of Aaron's hands, before he fully let go of his suit jacket.

He continued talking as if what he had just done was normal or anything close to casualty, "Morgan and Reid, try speaking with the victim's family one more time."

Emily exchanged looks with JJ, conversing silently while you obliviously sipped your coffee.

Friday, May 2, 5:04PM

"Capital O-M-G!" Penelope squealed, drumming on your shoulders as soon as she came close.

"Garcia, breathe," JJ gently placed her hands on Penelope's shoulders, modeling a regular breathing pattern.

Emily gave you a look as she sipped her coffee, which you returned with a shrug. Penelope was ever so eccentric. You've gotten used to it over the years you've been with the team.

"Okay, okay, okay. I'm good. Just that— I was— Ugh! Look!" Penelope shoved her phone in your face.

You saw a blinding blur, forcing out a sarcastic, "Wow! I can definitely see."

Luckily, JJ took it to herself to pull Penelope's phone away from messing up your eyesight and looked at the image plastered on the screen. A smirk immediately covered her lips, "Oh."

"What is it? Let me see—" Emily walked behind JJ. Her jaw dropped not long after. "Anything you want to tell us?" She cooed as she gave you the widest grin she had ever flashed, at least for that morning.

Your eyebrows clashed, and your forehead creased, "Whatever are you on about?"

"You're telling us nothing's happening between you and a guy?" Emily's grin only widened. You wondered how wide it could get, terrifying you in the process.

JJ flipped the phone to your end. The brightness of the screen stung your eyes a bit. "Want to explain this?"

Photo: It looked like the picture was cropped because you saw Derek's arm around you, but he was nowhere to be found in the image. Aaron's jacket was around your shoulders while he was behind you, glaring at Derek's arm.

"What about it?" The confusion was solid in your voice. However, you had a bit of an idea of what the three of them were insinuating.

Penelope stepped closer to you, "Uhuh, sure," she started as she zoomed in on the picture. "You're telling me you can't see Hotch's jacket on your shoulders, let alone Hotch glaring at my chocolate thunder?"

"He let me borrow his jacket because I was cold. Doesn't he always do that with everyone?" You innocently asked, looking at each one of them.

"Still doesn't explain him glaring at Derek." Emily chimed in a teasing tone, wiggling her eyebrows.

Your eyes widened, "You think Hotch was mad at me because I took it? He offered it to me, and I was cold. You think he was just being polite or?"

Penelope rolled her eyes and aimed her fluffy pen at you, "You oblivious profiler! He's jealous!"

"Uh-no," You chuckled.

"You don't believe me? Look at this."

Photo: This photo was older than the first one and might've been your third or fourth year with the BAU team. It seemed like all of you had just ended a case. You were snuggled on the couch on the jet. Aaron was draping his jacket over you.

"Who took that picture?" You queried.

Penelope raised her hand, "I was going to check in on everyone, then the camera spotted it, and I took a screenshot because I couldn't help myself. I was going to tease you about it but forgot for a very, very, very, very long time until I saw that picture from our last team night out." She wiggled her eyebrows, a playful smile on her lips.

"Looks like our boss has a favorite," JJ sang softly, looking at you with a knowing smile.

Emily nudged you, noticing the blush on your face. "You've gotta admit that's very sweet of Hotch. I think he likes you wearing his jacket." She teased, poking your sides.

"He does that to everyone, though," You reasoned. If you recall, he had offered his jacket to many people before.

"Nope, no!" Penelope shook her head vigorously with a tight lip. "He offers it to some but gives it to you."

"We had a case where it was biting cold outside. Hotch offered to help me if I needed a jacket. I said no because of politeness and shit, but he didn't insist. He didn't even offer his jacket. He offered to give me time to return to my room and grab my jacket." Emily grimaced, obviously still holding a grudge regarding the incident.

"I've known Hotch for years. Giving out his jacket was only for emergencies. If it's the only choice he had. We've had cases where a victim was a little too exposed, and his solution was to wrap them with the newspaper he conveniently found." JJ exclaimed, sorting the manila folders on her chest.

You gave it some thought and considered every possibility, but you shook your head. "He's just being nice because he's my boss. Plus, I'm still a bit tense around the team." You straightened yourself, fixing your top.

Emily cackled, "Getting flat-out drunk with us is definitely you still a bit tense around us."

"You know what I mean," You defended, blushing.

The three exchanged looks and shrugged. If you wanted to turn a blind eye, then it was your choice. But they had a perfect theory and tried to test it out.

Aaron was heading to the elevator as you exited the bullpen. The three of them grinned.

"Going for girls night?" Aaron quipped, raising his eyebrows.

JJ frowned, "We were, but she's feeling sick. I think the cold's getting to her." She gave you a pitiful hug.

Your eyes blew wide, jerking your head behind you where the other two stood with maniac grins. You knew what JJ was doing. It didn't take a second for you to figure it out. And as if luck was on their side, the elevator dinged.

You followed their figures as they piled in in the lift. You glared at them, but Emily focused on the man beside you.

You gazed at Aaron and were met with his jacket stretched out to you. Your mouth fell open, unable to breathe.

"It's cold outside this time of night. You'll feel worse if you don't layer up." Aaron cleared his throat, "Take it."

You reached for his jacket so slowly that he took it in himself to wrap it around your shoulders. "Thank you," Your voice quivered, hesitantly stepping inside the elevator.

He followed, standing beside you. You could feel the three devils behind you, preparing yourself for their constant teasing.

Unbeknownst to any of you, Aaron was holding his breath in the hopes that none of you would notice his blushing ears.

Monday, May 16, 8:12PM

The entire day has been a drag. Besides the unsub being disgustingly great at hiding his tracks in the safety of your local area, your stomach had been giving you the worst time of your life.

Later in the evening, in Aaron's orders, everyone was sent home to get some rest and start fresh the next day.

You were thankful. You needed to rest from all the stomach-emptying vomit you did in the restroom. Your acid reflux was having a field day and didn't let you get a breath. You practically lived in the toilet. You even had to call Derek and ask him to put you on speaker so you could contribute to finding the unsub. Luckily, they didn't question it.

Emily retracted away as she exited your hug, "Are you sure you don't want me to give you a ride home? We practically live in this building. I don't think they'd mind you leaving your car here for a night."

A warm smile brightened your drained face, "Yes, I'm sure. Thanks for the offer." You bid her one last goodbye before heading to your own car.

Your head was down as the day's exhaustion finally caught up. Your senses were off. You walked as if time stopped. You wondered if you should've taken advantage of Emily's offer.

With your loud thoughts and vulnerable senses, a heart attack almost killed you when a sudden cage of warmth engulfed your body. For a moment, your body wanted to fight, but it didn't take long for you to remember the familiarity of this warmth.

"What took you so long?" His voice was gentle and comforting enough to put you to sleep immediately.

You looked up at Aaron, who refused to unwrap his arms around you, "I didn't know you were waiting. I thought you went home already. Isn't Jack waiting for you? It's movie night."

Aaron smiled, "I'm taking you to the hospital to get checked. Captain Jack's orders."

You couldn't help but smile as well. He held the door for the passenger seat before jumping to the driver's seat. As you watched him go around, you noticed his scent lingered on your shoulders.

Aaron placed his jacket on yours.

"You ought to be careful," A chuckle passed your lips, "The gals are onto you."

"Why?" Aaron looked at you with a confused expression. His face made you giggle. The genuineness of his expression made you wonder his reaction if you had said the same thing two years ago.

A grin glistened on your face, "They say Agent Hotchner has a crush on me." Your voice danced with playfulness.

Aaron copied your grin and shrugged, "I'm surprised they haven't figured it out after all these years." He turned his body to face you, "So? Do you like him back?"

If only the BAU team knew how their unit chief, the SSA Aaron Hotchner, was a lot friskier than they perceived him to be, Aaron wouldn't last a day from all the teasing.

Then you wondered how the BAU team would react if they found out you and Aaron have been dating for the past two years and successfully kept it a secret from everyone except Strauss and Rossi.

Or the number of questions you'd be bombarded with when they learn that you recently moved in together with Aaron and Jack. You knew well enough that the ladies would be interrogating you like a serial killer.

You shrugged, "I heard he's got a fiancée." You fished the necklace well hidden under your shirt. A golden ring band shaped like vines with an oval-cut blue moon diamond dangled on the chain.

"Yeah..." Aaron held your hand and placed a soft kiss on the back of it, "You wouldn't want to be in the way of that." He smiled widely, an ever-loving expression you indulged yourself with for the past two years and soon... for a lifetime.

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotch fic #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch fanfiction #aaron hotch x you #criminal minds #criminalminds #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotch imagine #cm #ssa aaron hotchner #ssa hotchner #fem!reader #x reader #x female reader #character x reader #hotch #aaron hotch fluff

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moonstruckme · 7 months ago

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roomate jamess 😭😭😭💓💓🤍😭😭💓

I agree !

part 1 │ part 2 │ part 3 │ part 4 │part 5 │ part 6 │ part 7 │ part 8 │ part 9 │ part 10 │ part 11 │ part 12 │ part 13

roommate!james x shy!reader ♡ 733 words

James gets the text just as he arrives home: Are you hungry?

He grins, putting his car in park as he types out a reply.

I’m wounded. We’re coming up on our one-month roommate anniversary, and you still don’t know I’m always hungry?

This makes a grand total of four texts between the two of you. You’d conversed a bit more on Craigslist before agreeing to let James move in with you, but barely. Your radio silence is much like your actual silence, but he’s happy to be making a dent in either.

Your response comes while he’s fishing his keys out of his pocket. Sorry. Want thai?

James laughs, opening the door and toeing off his shoes. He calls in the general direction of your room, “I hope you’re joking about being sorry.”

He’s hoping for maybe a reply via text, so it comes as a pleasant surprise when you appear on the stairs. You move like a ghost; if he put you and Remus in an old manor together, James is half sure it’d qualify as a haunted house.

You’re in your pajamas, which means you must already be done with work for the day. James has noticed this is one of your habits; once you’ve decided you’re staying in the house, your outside clothes hit the hamper and you’re living in fuzzy socks. These ones, standing halfway up the staircase, are blue with white stars. Something about seeing you in full cozy mode makes James’ stomach twinge.

“Do you want Thai?” you ask again, longer and in person. Several decibels quieter than he’d just been.

“Sure.” James gives you a smile, flopping backwards over the arm of the couch. He was going to cook pasta for dinner, but he’s a bit tired anyway and agreeing to the first bonding opportunity you’ve offered him takes precedence. “Do you wanna use my card, or should I pay you after?”

“Don’t.” You wave him off, already typing on your phone. “I’m getting it.”

“Not happening,” James replies. He starts digging in his pocket for his wallet, unearthing a half dozen gum wrappers and a receipt from last March. “But in theory, to what do I owe the honor?”

Your eyes flit to him, something like accusation in them. James feels his eyebrows lift. “I know you don’t have that many leftovers,” you say.

So, you’re onto him. “I cook a lot,” he replies with a shrug. “If there’s extra, someone should eat it.”

“But why not you?”

“Why not you?” he counters.

You look suspiciously as though you might be biting down on a smile. A real one. “The point is, I owe you at least a meal. Do you want to see the menu?”

“Sure, thanks.” He reaches out a hand. You come down the stairs to give him your phone, but once it’s in his hand your eyes narrow mistrustfully, fingers tightening on the device.

“If you try to pay,” you tell him, “I’ll hide the money in your room so you don’t find it until you move out.”

A laugh bubbles up out of him at your serious tone. “We live together, babe. I think I’ll come across it at some point.”

“Not with your room as messy as it is.”

Damn it, you’re right. “Fine.” James holds up his hands in surrender, credit card between his fingers. “But when I make dinner tomorrow, just eat it while it’s hot, yeah? Let’s do away with the pretense.”

You sigh through your nose, sitting down beside him with one leg curled under you. You’re attempting something that’s probably supposed to be a glare. James would hate to have to tell you how unintimidating it is, but he may if you keep it up much longer; it’s almost too adorable to take.

“I appreciate it, but you really don’t need to cook for me,” you say. “I eat plenty when you’re not here.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“That’s the point, James.” You roll your eyes, looking halfway amused. Shit, the day he actually makes you laugh he’s gonna have to bake a cake. “You’re not here to see it.”

“Do you wanna watch a movie while we eat?” He passes you back your phone, having added his order to your cart. “They’ve just added a slew of new movies to Netflix. Also, for tomorrow, do you prefer pasta or chicken?”

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novaursa · 4 months ago

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You are an absolutely amazing writer and I adore all your stories.

If your requests for short stories are still open, I would like to request one with Cregan Stark and Targaryen reader where she is pregnant with their first child and gets jealous because Cregan is being secretive and she catches him few times talking to some of his closest men and mentioning an unknown female name. One day she can't take it anymore and confronts him. It turns out he found injured pregnant female direwolf and was taking care of her and her pups which he wants to gift to their child. (It would be fun if reader has already dragon but bonds with direwolf mom as well).

Daisy

Requests are closed!

- Summary: Heavy with your and Cregan’s first child, you get suspicious when your husband starts to sneak out to see Daisy.

- Paring: targ!reader/Cregan Stark

- Note: The reader is bonded with Silverwing. For more of my works, visit my blog. The first list is pinned to the top.

- Rating: Mild 13+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @daeryna @melsunshine @21-princess

You pace back and forth, hands resting on the swell of your belly, anxiety bubbling like a cauldron on a fire. Your gaze drifts to the furs on the floor of your chambers, the large bed that feels far too empty most nights as of late, and the flickering light of the hearth that does little to soothe the unease gnawing at your mind. Cregan has been… distracted. He leaves early in the morning, returns late, his excuses as thin as the northern air.

And Daisy.

You’ve overheard him whispering that name, hushed and guarded, always to his most trusted men. Every time you approach, the conversation stops abruptly, like the snap of a trap. It's enough to make any woman suspicious—especially a woman heavy with child, swollen with not only your firstborn but a mix of anticipation, anxiety, and perhaps a bit of jealousy.

"Silverwing," you murmur, glancing toward the small window. Though your beloved dragon isn't visible from the Keep, you know she’s nearby, perched on the cliffs, her silver scales glinting in the pale sun. "Do you know what he’s up to?" But if she does, she offers no response.

You frown. Even your dragon seems to be in on this secret. Traitor.

Another morning arrives, and Cregan departs before dawn breaks. The soft murmur of his voice filters through the stone walls as he speaks to his men again, and you catch it—Daisy.

That’s it. You’ve had enough. It’s time for answers.

You pull a thick cloak around your shoulders and storm down the stone corridors of Winterfell. The biting northern wind whips at your face as you march toward the stables, where Cregan is often found before heading into the woods. Your feet, swollen and heavy, protest with every step, but nothing can stop you now.

There he is, standing with a few of his men, his tall figure unmistakable even through the morning mist. You watch as they exchange low words, but the moment he spots you, they scatter like children caught stealing sweets. You fix Cregan with a glare that could burn the snow around you.

"What is going on, Cregan Stark?" you demand, hands on your hips, the weight of your belly only adding to the intensity of your stance. "And who is Daisy?"

He blinks at you, clearly caught off guard by your sudden confrontation. "Daisy?"

"Yes, Daisy," you repeat, not giving him a chance to deflect. "I’ve heard you speaking about her. And don’t lie to me, Cregan, I’m pregnant, not deaf."

He opens his mouth, closes it, and then rubs the back of his neck, a nervous habit you’ve come to recognize. "Y/N," he begins slowly, "it’s not what you think."

"Oh, it never is," you snap, your voice rising. "You're sneaking around, speaking in hushed tones, all while I’m here, waddling about, wondering if my husband has taken to… to some northern woman!"

"Some—" Cregan’s eyes widen, and for a moment, his usually serious expression cracks into a brief smile. He quickly wipes it away, knowing well enough that your temper is not to be tested right now. "No, no, love. You’ve got it all wrong."

"I do, do I?" you huff. "Then explain. Who is Daisy?"

There’s a pause, then he sighs, realizing there’s no more avoiding this. "Follow me."

Still seething, you follow him into the woods just beyond the walls of Winterfell. The snow crunches under your boots, and the cold air stings your cheeks. You consider demanding answers again, but before you can open your mouth, Cregan stops beside a small thicket, gestures for you to come closer.

He kneels, parting the branches, revealing a small, hidden hollow where something stirs. Your breath catches as you peer inside.

Lying there, curled up with her pups, is a massive female direwolf. Her fur is thick and silver, speckled with dirt and a few patches of blood—recent wounds from a hunt gone wrong, it seems. But even in her injured state, she exudes strength, a fierce protectiveness as she shields her young.

"This is Daisy," Cregan says softly. "I found her a few weeks ago, injured and alone. Her pack must’ve been killed, but she survived with her pups. I’ve been taking care of them, bringing them food, tending to her wounds."

You blink, feeling the confusion melt into something else. "...You’ve been sneaking out to care for wolves?"

"Aye." Cregan chuckles lightly, glancing up at you. "Not just any wolves, love. I wanted to surprise you. I thought… a direwolf pup would be a fitting gift for you and our child. A symbol of the North, something to protect the little one, like Silverwing does for you."

Your heart softens as you watch the direwolf, her eyes meeting yours for a moment. "So… you weren’t keeping secrets from me about another woman?"

Cregan grins, a lopsided, boyish smile that makes your irritation melt away. "No. Only Daisy here."

You cross your arms, feeling more than a little foolish now, though your pride won’t let you admit it outright. "And why didn’t you tell me sooner?"

"I wanted it to be a surprise," he says, rising to his feet and wrapping an arm around you. "But you caught on quicker than I expected."

You narrow your eyes at him playfully. "You know what’s worse? Silverwing knew, too. She didn’t say a word."

Cregan laughs, pressing a kiss to your temple. "Ah, dragons and direwolves—more loyal to each other than to us, it seems.

You huff, but you can't help the smile that creeps onto your face as you lean into him, the warmth of his embrace chasing away the chill. “Next time, Cregan Stark, no more secrets. Wolves, dragons, or otherwise.”

“Agreed,” he murmurs, his hand resting on your belly. “I’ll share everything with you from now on, Y/N.”

As you both stand there, watching the direwolf and her pups, you feel a sense of peace settle over you. The North, with its biting winds and endless snow, feels a little warmer now—filled with the promise of new life, both yours and the wild creatures that will grow beside your family.

"Perhaps we'll name our child Daisy," you tease, elbowing him gently.

Cregan groans. "Gods, no. One Daisy in this family is enough."

#house of the dragon #hotd x reader #hotd #hotd x y/n #hotd x you #cregan x you #cregan x y/n #hotd cregan #cregan x reader #cregan stark #cregan x

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sophietv · 1 year ago

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Everything you need to know : Failed Coming Out 2019

This is an answer to an anon I've received.

I typed it all and Tumblr said there was an error when I went and tried to published it. So I had to type it all again but lost the anon....

Here's the question: could you tell me more about her wanting to come out in 2019? sorry for asking again I'm new on the fandom!

Hi!

It will be my pleasure! This is such an important part of the Gaylor Lore to know and understand, especially when you are new in the fandom.

This theory has been confirmed, but we'll get to it in a minute.

Also, I'm so sorry because learning about what went down during Lover Era is a transformative experiece in the Gaylor fandom, in a very heartbreaking way.

So back in 2019 Taylor wanted to come out with the Lover Era.

June 30th during the New York City Pride wich was also the Stonewall's 50th anniversary, was supposed to be the day it happened.

This date might be familiar to you, because it's the date we learned at the same time as Taylor about her masters being sold to Scooter Braun.

So let's start at the begining of all of this. I won't go through ALL the details because my post will never end. But I'll cover the most important ones.

Right at the begining of the year, insiders were already talking about the fact that Taylor was planing to come out that year in podcasts and blind items.

Then in March 6th (Karlie and Taylor's anniversary)

Taylor does a post hinting at this new era. The very first lyrics we get (We got hints at ME back in February):

Daylight the song is about Karlie. But this line specifically means coming out.

Stepping into the daylight, and letting everyone see the real you.

(Also worth noting the lesbian filter)

Taylor started being really loud in the posts she made from now on. Flagging rainbow, lesbian and bi colors every chances she got.

And flagging Butterflies. Wich is very important thematically in Lover and coming out.

Side note on the Butterfly meaning:

Remembre how in reputation, snake was a really important theme?

And how in Lover it switched to butterflies?

More specifically it switched to Snakes transforming into butterflies?

There's a species of butterflies, that when they are in the chrysalid phase of their transformation into a butterfly, can look like a snake if they feel unsafe or attacked in order to protect themselves.

Then, after the average 13 days waiting period, they transforms into a beautiful butterfly.

Basically what Taylor was doing, protecting herself during reputation with that "personna" like she described.

And now, she was ready to finally transforms and have a new beginning.

Here's a description of what butterflies means:

A powerful beacon of growth and new beginnings, the butterfly signifies the power of transformation and the incredible feats we can achieve when we trust ourselves. We all have the ability to listen to our innate wisdom, guide ourselves through difficult times, and emerge better and stronger than before.

The ME! of it all:

Ok back into the Lover Era timeline!

So all those rainbow posts were leading up to the first single: ME!

Even Taylor Nation was pretty loud about this (number of rainbows = number of days leading to ME! release):

3 days before ME! release, Taylor performs at the Time 100 Gala and it's the first and only time she switched so very clearly pronouns in the song, multiple times:

She sings repeatedly : I want HER midnights

And she even seems to be getting more and more confortable as the song goes on and singing it louder and louder.

She also looks at the crowd while singing it.

Then she releases ME!

That was really the first part of her coming out.

And honnestly, she shouldn't have had to do more than this.

ME! was released on April 26th.

April 26th in 2019 was Lesbian Visibility Day.

And she captionned the release with: ME! Out Now!

A song about how she is unique as a Lover...

That is without mentioning the amount of rainbows everywhere in that MV as well as other references.

Worth noting that in 2019 Lil NasX came out in a MV with the rainbow tower and was annoyed that people didn't get it?

Taylor also probably deadass thought that she made it obvious:

May & June 2019 leading up to the big coming out:

Taylor continues to be as loud as she can.

She makes a very generous donation to GLAAD:

She sings ME! every chances she gets, while flagging the Lesbian Flag.

Taylor Nation also keeps on being really loud:

And releases a song and music video about homophobia and includes herself front and centered in the LGBTQ+ community (represented by the Trailer park, note how Ryan Reynolds, the only straight person in the MV is outside of this park, not in it like Taylor).

With a bi flag wig...

So yeah, she was trying really hard to make people see her.

Christian Siriano and the dress...

Back in April, we learned that Christian Siriano (a fashion designer) was working on a project for Taylor:

In June, he started teasing us about a mistery rainbow dress for an unnknown person:

It was heavily rumored that it would be the dress used by Taylor to come out at the end of Pride Month.

He kind of confirmed it with this post:

Then. June 30th.

The New York City Pride.

Taylor planned to come out at the event.

Employees on site, starts to be warned about this (you can find some comments online).

Taylor learns at the same time as us that her masters were sold to Scooter Braun.

She never makes it to Pride.

And Billy Porter ends up wearing the dress:

But. You can see that the dress was not meant to be worn by him. It doesn't fit well and the "nude" parts shows that it was meant to be worn by a white person.

In 2022, Christian confirmed it by dueting a TikTok talking specifically about this.

He deleted it right after but you can still find it on TikTok: (X)

Last minutes changes to Lover:

We now know that Taylor scrapped two songs from Lover: All Of The Girls You Loved Before and Need.

All Of The Girls is really loud and very clearly talks about a girl. Wich Taylor couldn't afford if she didn't want to/couldn't come out.

London Boy was actually written and added really last minute to the album.

Really interesting, because this is her loudest song about her loving boyfriend. Wich is a brilliant thing to do if you want to limit the public speculation after all the flagging that you did...

We know it was last minute, because Taylor sampled it on Cold War from Cautious Clay. (X)

He was called in the middle of the night and had to approve the sample right away.

Interesting fact: Cold War was featured in Book Smart, a movie Taylor promoted that year.

The song plays during a lesbian sex scene...

The intro to London Boy is actually Idris Elba in a interview where he was talking about a charity where he sold a date with him.

You know, people paid to date him...

The shift in the Lover Era:

After this, you can start to see a shift. Where it was colorful sequin and rainbows everywhere with colorful choreography.

She now dresses in black, is incredibly sad and sings mostly accousting song.

Like her BBC 1 performance or Lover In Paris:

Miss Americana:

Miss Americana was supposed to be her coming out documentary.

It has been confirmed by the director of the project that a lot of footage has been scrapped.

Also, the documentary was supposed to be called : Is It Cool That I Said All That?

This is why the documentary sometimes feels like something is missing and some parts are rushed.

They tried to switch her coming out approach by making it her political activism era.

Taylor confirms it in Anti-Hero MV:

youtube

She's pierced through the heart by The Archer.

Her queerness starts showing (she's bleeding lavender glitters).

She tries to cover it up by taking the table cloth.

Her wanting to cover it spoils the dinner for everyone and they leave her.

And while she sings : "Did you hear my covert narcissism I disguise as altruism, Like some kind of congressman?"

She covers her queerness with a sticker : Vote For Me, For Everything

Confirming that the political activism during Lover Era and mostly Miss Americana was in fact really to cover the fact that she was already one foot out of the closet when they had to backtrack.

With this. Take a look at the closing scene of Miss Americana. When The Archer is playing in the background.

It's a montage of Taylor talking to someone and Taylor on the release night of Lover.

Look at what Taylor says...

Queerbaiting Backlash:

This might be the worse part in my opinion.

Since she was flagging so hard to come out.

Sadly, most people didn't get that that was exactly what she was trying to do.

And medias massively accused her of queerbaiting.

And using the queer community.

I'm still so mad and heartbroken about this....

reusing an old Twitter post...

Even queer fans...:

Frankly, speculating about her sexuality would have been way less damaging than this...

Songs about this event:

Taylor wrote a lot about this failed coming out.

The Archer, was her song about her anxiety about coming out. And begging her fans to stay.

I'm not gonna do a full lyrics analysis because this post is already a novel.

But read those lyrics with that in mind and you'll see how loud it is, and heartbreaking.

"I've got a hundred thrown out speeches I almost said to you"

Also. Worth noting that after Lover was released and she was not able to come out, she switched one lyric in that song.

Instead of "Combat, I'm ready for combat" singular (coming out was the combat she was ready to face)

She now sings every time "Combats, I'm ready for Combats", because coming out has turned into multiple battles that she has to face now...

Hoax:

Noticed how she says that all of her heroes die all alone in The Archer?

Her fear that if she comes out, all her fans would leave.

In Hoax she says: "You know the hero died so what's the point of keeping score movie for?"

Because with her Master Heist and everything, she was not able to be one of those heroes herself... The hero that she wanted to be died in that moment because she was unable to come out.

Edit: I messed up the lyrics. But it's even more telling. Because the movie she's talking about is Miss Americana, once she was unable to come out.

Evermore:

This song is litteraly her looking back at what happened and how she managed to process everything and ultimatly heal even though it felt at the start like she would never be able to.

"I've been down since July" - June 30th = failed coming out

"Motion capture, put me in a bad light" - Queerbaiting allegations. And Miss Americana being rebranded.

"Writting letters, adressed to the fire" - Her hundred thrown out speeches that she almost said.

"I rewind the tape, but all it does is pause, on the very moment all was lost" - June 30th...

"Sending signals, to be double crossed" - Her flagging strongly on her way to come out, only to be accused of queerbaiting.

Right Where You Left Me:

The restaurant is a metaphor for the closet.

"Sitting in a corner I haunt, cross legged in the dim light"

Doesn't really feel like a restaurant, but her hiding in the closet.

"I swear, you could hear a hairpin drop. Right when I felt the moment stopped"

Droping hairpins is giving hints that you are gay.

She was doing this very loudly right before she was kept from coming out.

"Dust collected on my pinned up hair"

Her hair are still pinned up because she was not able to come out. And dust collected over time that she spent forced in the closet.

Anti-Hero:

AH is really The Archer 2.0, and talks about the same fear of coming out and being abandonned.

The fact that she decided to depict herself as the Anti-Hero is both really interesting and heartbreaking.

Because to her, the hero was the version of herself that was able to come out...

Listen to Change in the perspective of being able to come out and change the face of the industry:

"Tonight we'll stand, get off our knees

Fight for what we've worked for all these years

And the battle was long, it's the fight of our lives

But we'll stand up champions tonight"

They were the Champions.

Side note: she sang this song at the ACMA in 2010, two weeks before Chely Wright's coming out.

When we know that she has knowed and worked with Chely since about 2007.

Then Taylor wrote Long Live one month after Chely Wright's coming out.

Listen to the song with the same perspective as Change now.

"You held your head like a hero, on a history book page"

Chely Wright came out in May 2010. Taylor wrote Long Live in June 2010.

Look at the parallels of both songs.

And now, look at her choice to name that song Anti-Hero after everything that hapenned....

She also wrote Long Story Short and The Great War about that event, but this is for another post and it's about how this event affected her relationship with Karlie.

How she thought she was betrayed but ultimately found out it was not the case.

And how they both made it through.

Ok, I'm exhausted lol.

Sorry for writting a novel.

But this is such an important part of Taylor's history and I really wanted to do it justice (hope I was able to).

If you are still reading...Thank you for your question!

#kaylor #gaylor #lsk #lgbetty #gaylor twitter #gaylor swift #gaylor theory #anon

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ch0k3herwithaseaview · 10 months ago

Text

@jegulus-microfic | march 13 glare | words: 473

"JAMES FLEAMONT POTTER!" He could hear Sirius shouting from behind a closed door. After six years with this drama queen in one room, James got used to it. His best friend probably found out about Lily and Pandora and wants to make it look like a groundbreaking discovery.

As soon as the door to their dormitory opened, James set up a little straighter on his bed. "Hello, my favourite star," he said cheerfully.

The glare Sirius gave him caught him off guard. "Oh, am I now?" the shorter boy growled lowly. Behind him, James could see Remus and Peter looking like they were going to die from holding back their laughter.

"I'm confused. What's going on?" He adjusted his glasses nervously. He had an idea what it might be about, but he begged whoever was listening that it wasn't that.

In two fast strides, Sirius stood at the foot of his bed, grabbing the bedposts as if to break them. "Am I your favourite star?" the black-haired boy asked angrily. The two others gave in and started laughing hysterically from the door. Sirius didn't even give them a glance.

"Yes?" James answered, almost certain what was it about.

His best friend leaned towards him and, through gritted teeth, said, "I thought it would be my baby brother since you're apparently fucking him," which made James' eyes widen and his skin lose all its golden colour.

Oh, fuck.

They were very careful. How did he find out? And don't get them wrong, they were going to tell Sirius about their relationship; they really were, but they wanted to wait until Christmas to do it in the safety of their home.

"How- Who-?"

"Remus. Now, I'll give you a head start," Sirius said, and he immediately started counting from five. James ran out of the dormitory and across the common room as fast as he could. In a matter of seconds, he was in the corridor, sprinting to the nearest secret passage. He could hear the other boy close behind him, screaming something about incest and James being a brotherfucker.

Meanwhile, in their dormitory, none other than Regulus Black came out of the closet. He sat there for about an hour and a half, waiting to see what Remus had come up with in revenge for the latest prank he and James had pulled on him (yes, he was in on it now, but he did it out of love, so don't judge him). This idea was shit, honestly: James would simply be afraid to sleep in his own bed, and Regulus would face an irritating scolding from his brother. Nothing impressive.

When he dusted off his jumper and his boyfriend's roommates finally noticed him, their jaws went slack.

"Well," Remus started, after a minute of just looking at Regulus, "that would explain the reaction."

#jegulus #starchaser #dead gay wizards #james potter #james x regulus #regulus black #jegulus microfic #marauders #the marauders #hogwarts au

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writersdrug · 4 months ago

Text

I Don't Need You

Chapter 13. Each Other

Masterlist

Summary: Ridgeback was right: you and König make a good pair on the battlefield. Though, that doesn't mean the mission still can't go wrong.

Warnings: cursing, German that I'm too lazy to translate (nothing important), violence and blood, reader gets socked

As much as a leader should be, and as much as I hated to admit it, Ridgeback was right about everything he’d said: König and I made a decent team.

The morning after König’s temper tantrum, he was waiting outside of my door before breakfast. He mumbled something about “need to work together”, before turning on his heel and marching towards the mess hall. I stared after him, confused, but quickly grabbed my jacket when he barked at me to keep up with him. He was still grumpy, sure… but he wasn’t grumpy with me. Ridgeback must have given him an earful.

For the rest of the day, it was impossible to shake him. He ran training courses with me as we both got a feel for how the other worked. I figured out that König was truly a tank, in every sense of the word. Any poor “enemy” corporal that stood in his way was either launched to the side or pelted with a minimum of five rubber bullets to the head. And this was just a practice course; I couldn’t imagine what he would look like on the field. I was happy to be his six, his shadow that cleaned up the mess behind him. I made sure any stragglers were swiftly taken out, and that no one could sink a bullet into his back as he maneuvered through the course.

It was flawless. It made Ridgeback smirk as the two of us made our way back to the start of the run. His eyes held a thousand I told you so’s that made König scoff and my eyes roll. Still, it was obvious that we worked well together.

After that, I had a brief period of solitude when I retreated into the shower. As soon as I emerged from my barracks, König was there – leaning against the wall, scrolling through his phone. He followed to the mess, where we ate in silence. In the common area I pulled out a checkers bord and challenged him to a game; König obliged, opting to put his phone down and entertain my request. It was only a few, shameful minutes before he had me beat; He chuckled as I pouted and flipped on the TV, letting some foreign movie drone on and pretending I was invested.

It wasn’t humiliating to have him connected to my hip, nor was it suffocating. It felt good to know I had molded so well to someone in the team; that I could see how useful I was. But König was certainly… unexpectedly clingy. “Forcing himself” wasn’t the correct term, but it wasn’t hard to see that he was straining his limits. There was still something holding him back from accepting that we were a decent pair, even if it was just in combative circumstances. Part of me wanted to call him out on his behavior and tell him to stop being a child – then again, I didn’t want to start an argument. Not with the next mission right around the corner. So I let him be.

In addition to the dynamic between König and I, Ridgeback had been right about the mission: it was a downright bitch. Based in some tiny village on the edge of Narikala, Georgia, backed against a thick, snowy forest. The air was bitterly cold, nipping at my cheeks and seeping in through the fingertips of my gloves. I sat next to König on the heli, absentmindedly letting my knee rest against his thigh to savor any warmth I could get. He bounced his knee anxiously – in excitement or nervousness, I couldn’t tell.

Not five minutes after the heli had touched the ground did all hell break loose. König and I jumped out of our seats and were immediately met with a storm of bullets. Pedestrians had already started panicking when they heard the blades of the helicopter – now, they were screaming, running to take cover in the shabby, concrete structures that lined the streets. It was a miracle that we didn’t get separated then and there – well, not much of a miracle. König had grabbed me by my vest and yanked me to the side, out of the line of fire. He didn’t let me go until we had made it into one of the buildings, dropping me rather unceremoniously onto my feet.

From there, things only got worse – but we were able to manage it. Rose and Horangi weren’t far behind us as we cleared each room for them. It was nothing short of difficult: some of the enemy soldiers were able to land a decent jab to König’s side, despite being killed no less than three seconds later by a bullet to the neck. He seemed… giddy, like a teenage boy playing some first-person-shooter game in an arcade. It was all game to him; throwing punches and firing his assault rifle, occasionally dropping a laugh and scampering off to find his next victim.

Covering his six was surprisingly a simpler task on the field than in training. König didn’t leave anything but dead bodies in his wake. I spent more time helping him with what was hitting him head on. He used his gun more often as a bludgeoner than an actual rifle, ramming it into the faces and stomachs of anything that crossed his path. I forced myself not to focus on it too much – the idea of him relishing in the massacre of others threatened to shake me from my objective, but I pushed past it and continued to follow him through the buildings.

The stench of iron was strong now; the sounds of gunfire and voices shouting in a foreign language echoed across the various concrete walls, but I was all too attuned to it by now. The two of us reached the building where the hostiles had set up their temporary base, covered by thick walls and satellite dishes on the roof. König took the upper ground, running up the stairs on the side of the building. I pulled up next to the lower entrance and cleared one side – almost instantly, a hostile soldier clocked me on the opposite side, right in my face with the butt of his rifle. My back hit the wall before I realized what was happening, but I didn’t hesitate to fire my gun from where I was propped up on the floor. My pulse thrummed loudly in my ears as I blinked a few times, pulling myself up to my feet with a grunt.

Roze and Horangi entered shortly after; Roze grimaced, placing her gloved hand on my helmet and turning my cheek towards her. “That’s gonna be a shiner. You ok?”

I sniffed and cleared my throat. “I’ve had worse.”

“That’s right.” She replied proudly, tapping my helmet, before running off to one of the monitors. “Horangi! The drive.” She jerked her head in his direction.

He pulled a hard disc from his cargo pants pocket, tossing it across the room; Roze caught it effortlessly and jammed it into the towers of one of the monitors, plugging in a passcode cracker.

“They’re calling in backup.” He said, glancing through one of the windows. “Don’t even care who they’re aiming at, civilians or us.”

“Have you heard from Majka?” I asked, unable to hide the slight worry in my tone. “Exfil?”

“No. Comms are still down.” He said bluntly. Even he was nervous, missing the usual, cocky lilt in his tone. “Last I heard, Fender and O’Connor were still on the west side, clearing the exit. Castillo and Zero are setting up foxhole.”

I nodded. Everyone still seemed to be on track, at least – it was daunting not to have Majka in our ears, keeping us connected with who had what position. König was the only one with a ham radio directly to Majka – it was the only line we had to any sort of commanding voice.

“I’ll find König.” I said, tapping Horangi’s arm. “Castillo and Zero will have your backs on the way out. We’ll guard the entrance.”

He nodded, before swiftly crossing the room to stand next to Roze: still bend over the monitor and typing furiously on the keyboard. I turned on my heel and left through the way I came, clearing the room left and right, then running to the edge of the building where I had last seen König. The air was quiet with the lack of shouts, despite the abundance of guns firing. Would König make a sound if he was being attacked? Would he stay silent? How would I know if he was injured? What if he was already?

Suddenly, a massive figure rounded the corner. For a moment I raised my rifle, aiming at the soldier’s chest – until I realized it was König. Switching teams as often as I had made it a struggle to remember who to shoot and who not to shoot, but it was easy to recognize his lumbering form anywhere.

He didn’t bother with the pleasantries. “Exfil isn’t coming.” He said, maneuvering his body to press flat against the side of the building. He tucked his ham radio back into his tactical vest.

“Huh?!” I snapped, following closely behind him. “The fuck do you mean?”

“You see this?!” he gestured to the chaos around us – it was fairly congested with enemy soldiers. Although we made good headway, we were outnumbered. “They won’t be able to get in here. Majka said we need to get out; he has evac on the way, but it’ll take time.”

I scowled, more at the situation than at König. I knew Roze and Horagni could handle themselves, and they were more than safe with Castillo and Zero on their backs. What got me was the retreat; I’d only ever retreated twice before (ironically, both times falling under Price’s command), and it only did more harm than good.

Before I could give it any more thought, König’s thick fingers were wrapped around my vest again, pulling me behind him. I steeled my nerves as we wound through the buildings, dodging bullet rain and civilians as they sought cover. König appeared to be running us towards the forest, taking us closer to the edge of the village.

“What about the others?” I shouted over the commotion, as he dragged us past the large, stone walls at the entrance of the town. They would essentially be trapped in the center of the gunfire.

“They’re fine.” He said bluntly, dragging me up the hill and towards the tree line, not entertaining the issue I presented. Whether he was truly confident with that statement, or burying his concern for the sake of focusing, was beyond me. I had to trust him; the snow beneath my feet made it difficult to keep my pace with him, but he had yet to let go of my vest, so I had no choice but to stumble after him.

A glance back at the village had my stomach clenching in worry. Would they be able to get out? I looked around at the bodies strewn in the snowy terrain around us, some civilians, some enemies, some of our own. Gunfire continued to echo through the frigid air – Evac wouldn’t be here for a while, I realized, staring at one of the cadaver’s rucksacks – which might not even matter, if we froze to death in the woods. We certainly weren’t prepared to wait out in the freezing cold, however, a native to Georgia might. I dug my heels into the ground and ripped myself from König’s hold, acting on an impulsive survival instinct.

“Was machst du?!” König yelled a babble of German that I ignored. I skidded to a halt by one of the bodies and rolled it over (with difficulty), searching frantically. C’mon, c’mon… I tore open the pockets on his tactical belt and scavenged what I though was useful. König scanned around us – the sound of bullets flying, along with the fact that we were not trying to move away from it, wasn’t sitting well with him.

“We need to go!” he shouted.

“Alright alright!!” I said, finally snatching the backpack off of the body. Hopefully this is enough…

“Komm!!” König finally ran back, grabbing me by the arm and dragging me back towards the trees. I shouldered the backpack and followed closely behind. We ran as fast as we could up the hill – I struggled to match König’s wide stride, but his grip on my wrist forced me to keep up, or risk getting it torn off if I slowed down.

The sound of a rifle firing nearby made us both jump. König must have assumed the battle stayed within the village walls, however, we were sorely mistaken. The bullets landed in the snow beside us, barely missing our backs. I looked over my shoulder and saw two enemy soldiers steadily following us, shooting in our direction as they clamored up the hillside. I mumbled a curse – König kept tugging me upwards as bullets whizzed by our heads.

“Keep moving!” he ordered – though it fell on deaf ears.

I tore my wrist from König’s grasp and ripped my assault rifle from over my shoulder.

“Scheisse – Bonnie!” he shouted angrily, but I ignored him. If I didn’t try to kill them now, they were going to follow us into the woods.

I fell to my stomach, aimed the gun, and fired. The first few bullets took out the closest soldier – the other one ducked low to the ground, and that combined with the angle of the hill made it harder to hit him. He took position and fired again, missing my leg by a few inches. I pressed myself down, steadying my aim, and fired a final, fatal bullet into his back. He jolted from the impact before falling limply against the snow.

König grabbed me by the collar and pulled me up. “Auf mich!” he shouted, ushering me in front of him. I ran ahead while he scanned across the hill one last time, before we both stumbled into the line of trees.

I did my best to steady my breathing as we continued to sprint, despite the adrenaline starting to wear off. My thighs and shoulders were burning as the effects of the fight were finally catching up to me. Branches from the trees whipped against my body as I ran, stinging and scratching against my skin. Eventually, König passed me – lucky bastard with those stupid-ass long legs – and took the lead, running further and further into the dense thicket of trees. He started to slow down, deciding that we had gotten far enough away from the village.

Retreat always left a sour taste on my tongue.

I rested my hands on my knees, gasping desperately for air. My throat felt like it was burning and my entire body was shaking from the post-adrenaline rush. König leaned against a tree, his head lolling back as his chest heaved up and down. We were both spent – at this point, if there was still anyone pursuing us, our best bet would have been to hide – or just surrender.

I straightened up, placing my hands on my hips and tilting my head back. God, this is going to hurt later. König pushed himself away from the tree. His breathing had slowed to a normal pace, although the stress on his body was evident in every other aspect.

“What was that?!” he spat, pointing back towards the field.

A deep, fiery anger quickly began to simmer in my chest. I slowly looked at König, hands still on my hips and my expression furious. “What the fuck was what, colonel?” I said, my tone clear as day: tread lightly.

“That stunt you pulled earlier.” He stood directly in front of me, looking down through his mask with obvious anger. “Fucking posting up on the hill like that, acting like-“

“You mean saving our goddamn lives?!” I stepped forward so that I was right up against him, despite having to crane my neck up to meet his gaze. “Doing my fucking job?”

“We were fine!” he seethed. “They weren’t hitting us, yeah?”

“Yeah – because I fucking killed them, you’re welcome!” I glared at him with an irate look. “They would have pursued!”

“You could have gotten yourself killed.”

“Well guess who’s alive and who’s dead, huh?!”

“You made yourself an easy target by stopping there!”

“Are you fucking blind?! Or deaf? Did you hear anything that I just said, dipshit?!”

“Vorsichtig…” König spat at me, sticking a thick finger in my face.

“I don’t speak dumbass.” I retorted.

König’s eyes widened with fury, and he leaned down so that his face was inches from mine. “Hör mal, du kleiner Mistkerl- “

Suddenly, he stopped. I continued to stare directly into his eyes, adorning my own defiant glare. He was looking back at me, however, he was focused on something else. He glanced over my head, in the direction of the battle. Realizing he spotted something, I froze in place and listened intently. After a few moments, we heard the sound of quick footsteps, distant, yet approaching. An irritated voice was shouting as they ran towards us through the trees.

We both turned and ran. König ducked behind a tree and grabbed my arm (perhaps I wasn’t fast enough for him to tolerate) – he pulled me against him, with an arm around my waist, holding my own against my sides. He pressed himself against the tree, and his hand roughly covered my mouth. I didn’t even say anything…

We waited silently, listening as the soldier drew nearer. König’s hand around my waist grew tighter by the second, and his hand pressed harder against my mouth, as if he thought I might yell out to the assailant. The footsteps grew closer – the person didn’t even try to mask the sounds they made, speaking loudly into their comm. “I lost sight of the runners.” She said.

Dumb bitch, we weren’t that fast.

“Copy.” She replied to the inaudible voice on her comm. She quickly slipped by us without taking notice of our bodies, not even twenty feet from her. Once we were behind her, König expertly maneuvered us to the other side of the tree, his hand never leaving my mouth. I struggled to breathe against it, as his entire hand covered from my chin to my nose. But we waited quietly for the footsteps to fade into the distance, and then some more, until König was satisfied that she was gone.

He released my mouth; I fell to my knees and gasped for air. “Holy shit-“ I wheezed.

“Sorry…” he said wearily; a complete one-eighty from his recent outburst. I waved a hand at him, signaling that it was ok. He waited in silence as I struggled to catch my breath. The tension from moments before had subsided, although not completely. König shuffled awkwardly on his feet, rubbing a hand on the back of his head.

“I didn’t need to say all that…” he finally spoke. “I was just… fick, I don’t even know. It was a close call.”

I got back onto my feet. “Don’t worry about it.” I said, clearing my throat and dusting my pants off. “Just curious, what did you even say? In German?”

König looked at me, unmoving. “Ah…” he rubbed the back of his head. “Use your imagination and you’d probably be right. I’d rather not get into any more trouble today.”

I nodded, choosing to let the topic slide. “I’m sorry too… I shouldn’t have said those things about you… to a fucking colonel, too.” I said with an apologetic chuckle.

König shrugged. “I’ve heard worse. What you said was tame.” He paused a moment, then broke away from my gaze, looking at his surroundings and sighing. He paused in the direction of where the soldier had disappeared into. “I wonder why she would move so far away from the fight…” he said, “that seems reckless.”

I shrugged. “She was following orders.” I replied, rolling my shoulders and cracking my neck from side to side. “But the way she tracks is what’s piss-poor; heard that bitch from a mile away.”

König chuckled. “With a sniper rifle and a good angle, I could shoot her from here.” He held his hands up, positioning his non-existent gun on his shoulders, aiming in her direction. His shoulder blade was soaked in blood; something I hadn’t picked up before. It made me panic momentarily – when did he get that? Was that before or after we fled? – but I soon noticed that it wasn’t that deep. It needed to be patched up, for sure, but he wasn’t suffering from blood loss.

“Right, well“ - I slipped the backpack off of my shoulders and began rifling through it- “before we try chasing her down, you need stitches.”

Arms still in the air, König looked back at the cut. “Eh,” he began, reaching over to touch it. “I think I will be fine, this could be worse.”

I nodded and pulled out a suture kit. “Exactly: we’re gonna fix it before it does get any worse.” I pointed a finger at him. “On the ground, big guy.”

König dropped to his knees (a little too quickly) and stared up at me. I paused, shocked at the immediate obedience, and chuckled to myself. I got down on my knees, and König shifted to fully sit down so that I was at a comfortable level with his shoulder.

“You’re gonna need to take your shirt off.” I said. “I’m not tearing it up when it’s this cold. You’ll need it.”

König faltered, as if he was going to protest, but all that came from him was a sigh. He started with his arm guards, followed by his tactical belt, radio antenna, and his helmet, tossing them into a pile next to him. He pulled the hem of his shirt from his waistband, then paused. “Mask stays on.” He ordered.

I raised my hands defensively. “Fine by me.” I reached a hand under the back of his shirt, snaking it up and through the top of his collar. I could feel the smooth muscle of his back covered by a layer of sweat, despite the cold weather. I grabbed the back of his mask and pulled it back underneath his shirt. “Hold the front end under the shirt and then take it off. I’ll hold it back here.”

His breath hitched in his throat, followed by a very visible shiver. He reached through his shirt to grab the front end of his mask, before pulling the shirt over his head, wincing as it peeled away from his wound, and discarded it with the rest of his gear.

The cut was deep and angry, but thankfully it wasn’t terrible. König definitely needed stitches – luckily, that would be the only thing he needed. I grabbed a bottle of iodine solution from the kit as he watched, and he sighed. He pulled one of his gloves off and folded it between his teeth, preparing for the pain.

“Quick sting-“ I warned, popping the lid off of the bottle and pouring it sparingly over the wound. König inhaled sharply and groaned, barely muffled by the glove. I winced at his pain and mumbled an apology. I started threading a suture through his skin, focusing hard on being as gentle as possible. I could feel each fiber of his muscle tugging against the thread. His back was tense, flexed and unmoving as I worked. I peered at the scars on his back; some small, some long, some were thin lines, and others were wide gashes. Even a few bullet scars here and there. I noticed a dusting of freckles smattered across his upper back, thinning out the further down they traveled. Kinda looks like falling stars…

“Scheisse!” he suddenly growled, bringing me back to the situation at hand. Get it together – bad time to get distracted. I glanced up at him and watched as he breathed forcefully through the pain. He would suck a long breath in, before pushing it out between tightened lips, ending it with a small groan.

I looked back down to the wound and continued working. “Sorry, it shouldn’t be too much longer here.”

“Eh, you’re fine.” He said through clenched teeth. “I’ve done this plenty of times, though it never gets any easier.”

I tied off the last suture and grabbed the peroxide once more. I showed it to him as a heads-up. He chuckled. “Give me your hand for this one, yeah?”

I smirked and offered my hand, which he held tightly. He shoved the glove back into his mouth and faced the opposite direction, as if he was trying to be as far away from the pain as possible. I poured the solution on the stitched cut and he immediately hissed in pain. His hand squeezed mine with an inhuman amount of pressure, popping my knuckles and sending pain through my fingers, and I mumbled my own string of expletives. Remind me to never let him do that again. I quickly covered the wound with a piece of gauze and some tape, my hand still occupied by König’s.

“Sorry…” he said, releasing my hand.

I examined my fingers. “All good. I probably deserved that.”

“For what?” he asked, grabbing his shirt and slipping it back over his body.

“I dunno…” I said, leaning back on my heels as he turned to look at me. “I got you distracted on the field.”

“Anything could have distracted me. I’m glad it was just you…” He sat back against the tree. “… and nothing more dangerous.”

I folded my arms over my chest. “You don’t think I’m dangerous?” I quipped.

König laughed and shook his head. “At least not to me. The only thing I fear in you is your attitude. It’s quite sour.”

I scrunched my nose at his comment, followed by a playful jab to his shoulder. He inhaled sharply in pain and I winced, realizing that I had struck his wound. “Sorry!”

Night had fallen (quicker than we expected), and the forest was now freezing. We decided against making a fire, in case the enemy was still clearing out the field. I had been hoping and praying that the rest of them were alright: that Roze, Horangi, and everyone else had made it out of the village and into the woods somewhere, or at least managed to find evac, once they had gotten there. I would let myself freeze to death in the forest if I knew thy had died there. Still, the not knowing was almost worse.

König was pressing his back against a tree with his arms folded over his chest – surprisingly, he wasn’t shivering, but he still looked irritated with the current weather. He occasionally paced around our hiding spot, scanning the woods for any sign of… anything, really. But the world remained quiet, save the crunching of the ground under König’s heavy steps and my teeth clacking together.

I was frigid. I had crouched against the base of a tree, knees tightly scrunched to my chest with my arms tucked in between them. I was blowing warm breaths over my fingers – the fingertips of my gloves were cut off long ago to help have a better grip on things, and the current situation made me regret making that choice. My muscles twitched and shivered as my body tried to generate what little heat it could, which wasn’t much. My fingers and toes began to sting from the cold. Never thought I’d die from hypothermia… first time for everything, I guess.

König rubbed the sides of his arms, clearly not as cold as I was. He stopped pacing, watching me as the sound of my chattering echoed through the small patch of woods we were in. “You alright there?”

I nodded, never meeting his gaze. “P-eachy.” I said, my shivering taking over my voice.

“You won’t make like this before evac gets here.” He scanned the woods again, as if our rescue was about to come running through the trees any second now. Wishful thinking.

“Hopefully it d-oesn’t take that l-long for me t-o pass.” I joked. Neither König nor I found it funny.

König sighed. He dropped himself at the base of a tree and leaned back, spreading his legs in front of him. He looked at me and patted the ground in between them expectantly.

For a moment, I was taken aback enough to stop shivering. “Huh?”

“Come here.” He said, frustrated. “I’m trying to warm you up, blödmann. I’d rather not have you die right next to me.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. I knew whatever he called me was an insult. “No thanks, I’ll be f-fine.” I turned my head back down, exhaling warmth over my fingers. The thought of sitting in König’s lap like that was embarrassing, and something I was absolutely not about to do. Ever.

He stared at me, his eyes blank. I could feel the irritation radiating off of him, but I didn’t care. He couldn’t force me to do anything, and I know he wouldn’t try.

“It’s an order.” He stated firmly, his voice slightly deeper than before.

I looked at him with surprise. “Excuse me?”

“Are you forgetting that I’m a colonel?” he questioned, cocking his head to the side.

I scoffed. “Sometimes you forget- “

“I’m not going to repeat myself, sergeant.” He warned.

And there it was. That feeling. That electric zap in my lower abdomen. That stupid sensation that had got me in trouble with Ghost over a year ago. All from a single order from my superior. I stared at König, hoping my arousal wasn’t obvious, as I attempted to shank every single butterfly in my stomach. Christ, get it together you slut…

I sighed, standing up and moving towards König, who chuckled smugly. Rather than sit in between his legs, I planted myself next to him, our shoulders and hips touching. I brought my knees to my chest again while his remained splayed out in front of him. The excitement I felt earlier was gone, now replaced with an awkwardness. I couldn’t stop the small frown that settled on my face.

König froze at our touch, seeming to feel the awkwardness too. It was a bit amusing, seeing him flop between being cocky and sheepish. Eventually, he relaxed, ever so slightly leaning into my side. Soon, he gained enough courage to wrap an arm around my shoulders.

Reflexively, I tensed and pulled away a bit. “You don’t need – “

“I don’t want to hear it, Bonnie.” He said, pulling me back in. His words expressed superiority, yet his voice sounded anxious. “I’m keeping my teammate warm. I don’t want you to freeze to death out here. We’re benefitting each other, you know.”

I hesitated to give in; in all honesty, König was very warm… even his fingers. They gently rubbed the side of my arm through my sleeve, sending pins and needles through my skin as the feeling began to come back. My head fit easily against the side of his chest, and I felt good too… not even aroused, just safe. The stress from the mission and worrying about my team – it all was catching up to me, but now it was being absorbed into the warmth of König’s form.

I sighed, leaning against his body as a shiver ran up my spine. Under the smell of sweat and gunpowder, there was a hint of musk. I hated how it comforted me.

He felt my movement and chuckled. “Not so bad, huh?”

“Stuff it.” I replied curtly.

König laughed, charmed by my stubbornness, I assumed. “Here, give me your hands.” He opened his free hand and offered it to me. I reluctantly obliged, my sense of reason now being controlled by my dropping temperature. He was able to close his hand around both of mine, gently kneading my fingertips between his. The blood rushing back to my hands was painful, but the accompanied warmth was welcomed. I stared at his large hand massaging mine with half-lidded eyes; now that I felt safe, I realized how tired I had been for the past several hours.

“Thanks.” I mumbled. Even though I was feeling better, the situation was still embarrassing. I tried not to rely on people if I could help it.

“Go to sleep.” He said, ignoring my comment and letting go of my hands. “I’ll keep first watch. It’ll give you a few hours of rest.” He kept his gaze forward, aligned with the trees with an iron stare.

I huffed, tucking my hands into my sides and leaning into him further. I could sense he was just as apprehensive about our unfortunate situation, unwilling to acknowledge the tension between us – which was probably for the better. If we could hold off until evac reached us, we could pretend this had never happened. I let my eyes close, bristling against the contrast of the frigid air and König’s warm muscle, choosing to be thankful that I wasn’t out here alone – and that neither was he.

Right before sleep blanketed over my senses, gently pulling me down from awareness, I felt his arm shifting back around me to hold me closer. I smiled.

I startled awake from a dreamless sleep – pain shot through my fingers and toes when they tensed up. The freezing bite of the wind nipped at them, and they burned as my blood began to flow throughout my limbs.

I looked up at König, at poor, poor König…

He was still sitting upright, his one arm draped limply over my body. His eyes were fixed forwards on the tree line – they were narrowed against the chill of the wind, and dark bags had formed underneath them. His posture was slouched, and occasionally he would drift forwards, only to jerk himself back against the tree. He blinked slowly as he fought away the sleep.

“König?!” I pushed myself upright, staring at him with concern. “Oh my god, are you ok?!”

“Bitte,” he said, still looking at the trees ahead. “Ich muss schlafen…”

“What?”

“I need to sleep.”

“Shit, why didn’t you say something?” I asked, sitting up against the tree.

“I tried. You wouldn’t wake up.” His voice was gravelly from his lack of sleep. “You snored.”

“I- what?” I pulled my head back, looking up at him with an offended expression. “I snored?”

“Like a horse. May I please lie down?”

I scowled. That doesn’t even make any sense… I pressed myself against the tree trunk, ushering him to lean against me. “Yeah, you sleep, Colonel. I’ll keep a lookout.”

Instead of resting against my side, König completely flopped down into my lap. I let out an oof as he landed – it felt like a tree had just fallen on my legs. He let out a long, tired groan, his eyes finally closing for the night. He wrapped his arms around my thighs and hugged them close – his fingers were freezing, making me inhale sharply as he tucked them between my thighs for warmth. I didn’t even have the mental capacity to react to the gesture due to the frigidity.

“König-“ I began to protest.

“Es ist so kalt.”

“… huh?”

“It’s cold.” He mumbled.

I hovered my hands above his body, unsure of where to put them. I glanced around the dark woods, only being able to decipher one tree from the next by the light of the moon. Why am I nervous? There’s no one here but us.

That’s exactly why I was nervous.

I sighed, rubbing my hands roughly over König’s arms to warm him up. He grunted something in appreciation, squeezing my legs tighter. I bit my lip and prayed that he wouldn’t crush me. Despite his appendages being cold, his torso was relatively warm, still. As much as I hated to think about it, his current position over my body did a much better job at fighting the cold than how we had sat before.

“You gonna be alright?” I asked.

Silence. Then, a long, grating snore, akin to a chainsaw cutting through a tree trunk.

I huffed, patting his shoulder (the uninjured one). I leaned my head back against the tree trunk, fixing my gaze to the trees ahead of us. The forest was utterly silent, save for the occasional whisper of wind rustling through the leaves. Thankfully, the ground was spared from snow due to the thick coverage of the trees. My breath froze in the air, puffs of icy clouds wilting away before me. I looked back down at König: he was out like a light, face pressed into my hip and fingers clenching between my thighs.

Wish I had a camera.

Next ->

Taglist: @igotmajordaddyissues @princekonig @vixionix @v3lv3tvampir3 @theoneandonlykymberlee @luvvnightingalee @dillybuggg @sun-joo @perfectus-in-morte @evilive @satakingslime @comfortless @a-sadmilky @pinkslaystation @mocha-mooni @thatonetime01 @squidsal @yawning-grave81 @crazy-phan-girl13 @keepghostly @ghostslittlegf @rl800 @ellabellabunny123 @kneelforloki @jolie989 @crystalvape @spookyqueenduck @ceceher @venting402 @atticusdreams

#mega chapter for you guys #ghost #ghost x reader #ghost x you #konig #konig x reader #konig x you #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon riely x you #ghost cod #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #konig cod #simon riley cod #cod #call of duty #cod x reader

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mingtinys · 9 months ago

Text

" have you eaten today ? "

pairing : boo seungkwan x gn!reader

"13 ways to say "i love you" with seventeen"

warnings : mentions of food , language (seungkwan calls the reader "dumbass" lovingly)

word count : 0.6 k

a/n : words cannot describe the love i have for boo seungkwan , if my future partner isn't boo seungkwan himself i don't WANT them .

You'd like to think after two years, you've grown used to Seungkwan's disapproving glare. But jeez, if he isn't laying it on thick tonight. You're pretty sure he's actually burned two dime-sized holes through your laptop with the way he glowering from his spot across from you.

"Boo..." You draw out his name in a warning, not bothering to look up or cease typing. "You're gonna strain your corneas if you don't quit it."

"Your fingers are gonna fall off if you don't quit it." He mocks.

You spare a full three seconds to look up from your computer just to shoot him a look that says really? Now you're just being immature.

"I told you when you insisted on coming over I wouldn't be able to entertain you. This project is due in two days and I need to focus." You huff out.

It's true, you literally told him three times over on the phone he was welcome at your place, but that he'd have to be quiet and let you work. Which, in hindsight, you really should have known better considering it's Seungkwan, but you felt bad having already blown off your boyfriend three times this week due to this project. And judging from his tone when he called, he was two seconds from marching over and kicking down your door anyway.

Seungkwan clicks his tongue. "This isn't about being entertained—" you highly doubt that "—it's about you being a dumbass and overworking yourself."

You roll your eyes, but that only seems to fuel his persistence. "It's been hours since I got here and you've yet to take a break."

"I will in a bit, just let me finish this."

Seungkwan doesn't get the chance to retort. The doorbell rings with what you assume is the take-out he called in for himself a little over thirty minutes ago. You'd originally told him you didn't want anything, shooing him to quiet down when he tried to ask. But now, you're starting to regret that. Especially when the smell of his food wafts into the room moments after the door shuts.

He sits back down across from you, opening the containers and making quick work of digging in. The scent of it hits your nose tenfold, and at that, your stomach growls. Loud enough for Seungkwan's head to pop up and his eyes to narrow. Traitor, you curse at your stomach.

Seungkwan tilts his head and you're too scared to meet his gaze for fear of being scolded.

"Have you eaten today?" He asks, with a soft tone and unexpected seriousness. You just shrug, not wanting to let go of your pride.

"I'm fine."

He scoffs and immediately starts using the container's lid to dish out a heaping portion. All the while muttering to himself about you being difficult and how you're going to give him at least twelve new grey hairs.

"Here, take half." He shoves the lid, which definitely has more than half piled onto it, towards you.

When you just blankly stare at it, he sighs and picks up a piece with his chopsticks. He extends his arm as far as it can go until the item, drenched in a sweet-smelling sauce, is centimeters from your lips. "Eat." He instructs. So you do, admitting defeat by finally pushing your computer to the side and exchanging it for the plate Seungkwan fixed you.

"I swear, what would you do without me." He teases, beaming with pride.

taglist: @matchahyuck @dontwannaexsist @minnieminshi @myfavoritedelusion @tanya596carat

#boo seungkwan #seungkwan #boo seungkwan x reader #seungkwan x reader #boo seungkwan x you #seungkwan x you #boo seungkwan fluff #seungkwan fluff #boo seungkwan imagine #seungkwan imagines #boo seungkwan fanfic #seungkwan fanfic #seventeen #seventeen imagine #seventeen fic #seventeen x reader #seventeen x you #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios

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hazelfoureyes · 2 months ago

Text

A Doe in Fall (Part 14)

⟢HumanAlastor x FemaleBurlesquerReader - A Doe in Fall

A burlesquer with a penchant for conning men, you find your latest game interrupted when your next mark saves you from an aggressive fan— by killing him. The chance encounter left you curious, still half convinced you could complete your normal chase. Unbeknownst to you, you were the one being tracked.

Part 1 - Pretty in Red smut💦 Part 2 - Liar smut💦 Part 3 - A Tragedy smut💦 Part 4 - Enough Part 5 - Too Much Part 6 - Learning smut💦 Part 7 - Recognition smut💦 Part 8 - Trust sexual 🥵 Part 9 - Shiny Things Part 10 - Good Deeds Part 11 - Caught Part 12 - Eddie Part 13 - The Release Part 14 - Someone like her smut💦📍

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Where we left off: Alastor and Reader had a misunderstanding and a heavy talk on the back porch. He’d let it slip how deeply he felt but it was muffled by your thighs.

Part 14 Someone like her

Brady says the magic words after finally meeting his elusive radio man. But was that a good thing?

「Warnings/Promises: Human Alastor x Fem!Reader, masturbation, Ace Alastor is trying his best, little smut to start the day, Brenda exists, Reader is also trying her best but it’s less hot, mentions of abuse, thinly veiled racism, Insecure Alastor, an axe, Alastor is the deer and gator」

MDNI ☎️💚🏡

Forehead pressed against the wall of the bathroom, Alastor’s hand gripped the base of his cock and squeezed.

He’d been trying to masturbate more, hoping to prolong things when with you, but the action was just so pointless. Yes it felt good, but so did scratching his back when he had an itch. But there was no itch here. He couldn’t mentally stay in a romantic mindset when it was just fingers and running water. What intimacy existed there? What was the point? Male orgasms were for procreation and pleasure, were they not? He wasn’t going to knock up the drain or make the shower quiver so this seemed just wasteful.

Images of your pleasured face ghosted behind his eyes. Nothing pointless about that. A twitch to the otherwise bored flesh in his grip.

Wasteful.

Your laugh at watching Alastor march through the bedroom sopping wet and butt naked choked you when your eyes lowered to see he was also rock hard.

“Oh.” Was all you managed before his shower was soaking through your cotton top and powder blue skirt. “Oh.” Ravenous mouth at your jawline.

“I didn’t want to waste it.” His hips rutted into your side, the evidence of every place he touched were large and dark wet spots on your clothes. “Do you want to —?”

His fingers were already crawling down your thighs and gathering your skirt up.

You always forgot his strength when looking at him. Until he was holding you up by the hips, for example, fucking you against the bedroom wall. Wet skin slapping against your thighs, panties swinging around your ankle with every thrust. A lovely way to start a Monday.

The weekend had been spent with a very attentive and clearly apologetic Alastor. His hands had been more present on your body, always holding your hand or pulling your legs over his lap as you both read. Dinners with his feet tangled with yours. Nights with his head buried in your hair.

The words were moaned through his own mind, scared to let them go again.

I just love you so much.

Every time you sighed his name, he clenched his teeth to keep it back. He wouldn’t weaponize it. He’d struggled to keep the compelled confession buried into your lap before, but he could keep it together until the moment was happy and without the bitter taste of his disappointment still lingering on your tongue.

An enlightened gasp dripped into a breathy moan as you realized this must be the make up sex the ladies always talk about. You’d never understood the concept before then.

He felt you tighten around him, yes, a much better use of arousal. The good thing about his years of experience before you was he had time to learn. To know when to quicken his pace and when to focus on depth. Quality over quantity, he thought.

His mind stayed there long after you finished and he went into work. Leaving you behind was difficult, a small wiggling worm of fear deep in his skull that’d you’d vanish if his body wasn’t touching yours.

You’d taken off some time from work, partly out of sheer embarrassment and partly to keep the theater safe from Brady. Which meant when he left for work, you kissed him goodbye at the door. You both laughed into the small space between your lips immediately afterwards.

“Hush.” You warned him, and he pretended to zip his lips shut and slip the imaginary key into your skirt pocket.

Alastor was happy to hear Brady had been told he had a handful of nothing but he knew his clock was ticking. You’d recounted your time in the station and how angry and disappointed the other detective had seemed with Brady. Brady would be popping up as soon as possible, you warned. There was no way he was dropping the issue. He’d be knocking on Alastor’s office door in no time.

Much sooner than Alastor had prepared for, but he was ever the performer.

Brenda far too loudly announced two detectives were there for him. She was side eyeing them with a sneer he could almost appreciate when she popped her head in to yell it.

“I’ll be right out.” Alastor set his work down and took a deep breath. Every piece of him wanted to rush from the room and strangle Brady on the office floor. He’d seen him many times before but the pesky detective didn’t know that. A tremble of excitement he shook away. Smile on, he left the office.

His observations came quick and loud as he saw Brady’s face in the daylight for the first time.

Bright eyes. Tired. Light hair. Pale. Clothes wrinkled. Sweat stains even though it was autumn already.

The man beside him was new to Alastor, and Alastor couldn’t tell yet what to do with him. Taller, older, darker complexion. His expression was relaxed in comparison to Brady’s stressed one.

“Good afternoon, detectives. Alastor. It’s a pleasure.” He extended his hand but only Freeman moved to shake it.

Brady was staring with blatant scrutiny. Alastor was quite tall, and much leaner than he had anticipated. His hair was perfectly in place, with clean skin and neat glasses. Was this the right man?

“Edward Freeman. I am a big fan, sir. Your voice is made for radio.” Freeman shook Alastor’s with both of his own, not noticing his partner’s wide eyed horror. “Such a pleasure. I promise we won’t take too much of your time.”

Alastor could have cackled directly into Brady’s face but managed to keep himself in check, “A face for radio too! Ha ha ha,” his laugh was loud, genuinely amused with himself, “Well it’s always a treat to meet a listener.”

Brady thought he’d black out. He’d began his day humming with anticipation, the high of having a name and occupation making him dizzy all weekend. The shock of Freeman immediately cozying up to his prime (and sole) suspect was throwing him off balance.

He’d brought him along so he could show him he’d gotten the right man. He’d thought —- he’d been so sure Alastor would be some second rate employee with rough hands and thick arms. Not the pretty host working behind some desk. Weren’t there large spools of cable and big contraptions radio station employees lugged around? Where were those men?

A string bean of a human in thin circular glasses was charming the wits off his partner.

“Brady. We’re here to discuss an important matter regarding your girlfriend.” Brady leaned in to separate the other two men and their budding camaraderie.

“Girlfriend?!” Brenda choked on her coffee, her desk just some feet beside them. “You’re confused. I’d know if he had a girl.”

“Thank you, Brenda.” Alastor said through a forced smile, “She is right though. I am unattached. Lifelong bachelor.”

“That’s interesting. Because when we picked her up at the burlesque theater,” he was cut off by a shriek.

“Nude dancing?! Sir! My—-you! Alastor would never! He is a man of means and class! I-,” Brenda’s hands were aimlessly shuffling time cards. “The only theater he frequents is the cinema.”

“Brenda.” Alastor laughed, not taking his eyes off of Brady, “Please. Let the man finish.”

“But you’d never! This is slander!”

“No slander. We picked her up for prostitution and her,” again he was drowned out by the receptionist.

Brenda was on her feet, a second from foaming at the mouth, “Out! You get out of this office at once!”

“Sure, why don’t we take this to the station.”

“You want a local celebrity,” Alastor’s eye twitched as Brenda screeched out the words, “to be marched down there like a common criminal! I’m calling the station, you’re mad.”

“Thank you, Brenda!” Alastor hissed, words heavy, “Let’s continue this in my office, gentlemen.” His arm swung out to gesture to the open door.

Brenda was left fiddingly with her pearls in horror.

Alastor followed the men in and leaned back against his desk casually, offering them the two chairs.

“So, now that we’re … free from that, what were you saying?” He tried to chuckle away the chaos, one hand gently smoothing his hair back.

“We took in a woman last week for prostitution. Charges dropped but — her friends said you were her beau.” Freeman leaned back too, crossing his legs at the ankle as they stretched out in front of him, “Radio man named Alastor? Not too many of those so, thought we’d just come by and check.”

Brady stood near the door, refusing to sit. “So. Gonna tell me there’s some more Alastors in New Orleans? Or gonna be straight with us?”

Alastor nodded, sighing through his nose. You’d filled him in already on the story.

“Burlesquer, right? Pretty thing with the long lashes and sharp tongue?” He looked up at Brady over his glasses, looking as boyish as a man his age could.

“So you are her fella?” Freeman’s back straightened. He hadn’t expected that.

“Wouldn’t go that far… I’m embarrassed to admit it but yes I did take out a singer some time ago. Dancer too, I was told. But, I,” his hands slid in his pockets and he shrugged his shoulders, “I had a lovely time with her.” He gave Freeman a shy smirk, “I just didn’t want anything serious. Paid for her cab last time I saw her but I didn’t give her a dime for anything else.”

Brady stared at every inch of the man before him. His white button up was loose at the arms but wasn’t appearing to hide some powerful physique that said ‘I drag bodies around town.’

“We were told you’d been going to see her for quite some time.” Brady had been prepared for every reply.

Alastor furrowed his brow and pretended to think, hand coming from his pocket to adjust his glasses, “Talking about the nice little joint near the park?”

“Yeah.” Brady smiled. “So you admit it.”

“I loved going there. I first noticed her over a few weekends. Asked her out there, too. But after a few nights out she seemed a little… not worth the trouble, I’ll say.” He grimaced, “I really sound like a rake, huh?” He looked to Freeman, asking for the man’s acceptance with his eyes.

Freeman chuckled at the suggestion, “Not at all! Good looking man such as yourself, nice job, no wife. I’d be sowing my oats so to speak too. We’re just hunting down some people for questioning regarding a missing manager.”

Brady thought his head would snap with how quickly he turned to Freeman. He was saying too much.

“He’s uh, drats what’s her name?” Freeman turned around to Brady. Brady looked up to Alastor expectantly.

“Oh! She gave me some fake name. Winter or… August. I didn’t press the matter.” Alastor walked back to his desk and sat down, trying to get eye level with Freeman who was the easier of the two to play, “Missing manager? I frequent a lot of clubs looking for talent. Maybe I knew the guy. What’s his name?”

“Tommy Dupre.” Brady said it sternly. “And I’m the one leading the investigation.”

A twitch to the corner of Alastor’s smile, “Sorry detective, I assumed this here was your superior. He just has … an aura of experienced professionalism to him. Now where was I… a manager,” he shook his head, “Was he at The Bandstand by any chance?” His fingers were flipping through his rolodex of business cards. Brady noted how clean his nails were. But not suspiciously so, not something that seemed overly tended to. He shook his head again more firmly then. “No, never formally met the man at least.”

“He was your burlesquer’s manager.”

Alastor leaned back and crossed his arms, “I never went to her work and I truly don’t visit burlesque theaters. Can't risk my reputation.” Few people out of the club scene knew his face and name so that was a load of shit, but he hoped they wouldn’t stop and consider that much. “We run a clean show here.”

“Here’s the issue, sir.” Freeman patted the tops of his thighs, “Your Ms. Doe-,” Alastor’s brow furrowed in momentary confusion.

“Oh! Ha, clever. I see what you did there.” He laughed, it was light and made Freeman nod his head in thanks.

“She got roughed up real bad by Mr. Dupre around the time ya’ll were seen together. He disappeared soon after. So, naturally….we wanted to see if you knew anything about what happened to him.”

“Doesn’t shock me to hear that.” Alastor's voice was high pitched and airy. His nonchalance was grating to the younger of the two detectives.

Brady rolled his eyes. Alastor was definitely the man Beth mentioned; a daisy. The kind of man to fret over a stained tie or wet shoes.

“People in …those kinds of establishments can’t expect civility.” His nails were digging through the cotton of his pants. It made him sick to say it. How many days did he kiss your bruises? How long had they lasted? Longer than Tommy, that was for sure. Outlived him by quite some time. His smile spread. Brady noticed it, clearing his throat.

“What’s the smile for?”

“Ah,” Alastor hid his mouth with the back of his hand, he couldn’t bite back the glee of remembering Tommy beg, “Sorry. I’m just feeling quite grateful I didn’t stick around to be pulled into some dame’s drama. This is exactly why I remain untethered.”

“Wish I’d had that foresight…I’m only joking. My Donna’s a blessing and a half.” Freeman quickly retracted the comment.

A moment of quiet as they all looked at each other. A natural dead end.

Freeman turned back in his chair to look at Brady once more, this was his impromptu interview. He’d begged Freeman to take the early lunch. Brady promised him this was the guy and that if it wasn’t, he’d never bring it up again.

So he was staring at his partner waiting for the never again to start.

Brady chewed the inside of his cheek, mind bouncing through thoughts and theories and observations.

This man in front of him was soft. He was feminine in some aspects, definitely quite lanky and seemingly devoid of real muscle. Brady hadn’t imagined his killer to be concerned about style or fashion, yet this man clearly put a lot into his appearance. He couldn’t imagine him killing anyone… perhaps a gun?

“Got any hobbies?”

“Kenny.” Freeman chided.

“Sir.” Brady added it sarcastically.

Alastor whistled, “Besides jazz and piano? I fish. Uh,” Alastor looked for threads of truth to add to the web, “I garden quite a bit, actually. Love to dance.”

Of course he did. “Sports?”

“I don’t watch nor listen to much of that.”

“No,” an exasperated sigh, “Do you play any sports?”

“Oh!” Another casual laugh that grated Brady’s senses, “No, no. I wouldn’t pretend I’m an athletic man.”

“Hunting is a popular pastime around here, you ever go out shooting?”

“No sir, not my scene.” Alastor leaned back and swiveled his chair side to side.

No hunting, really? Brady’s brows rose in suspicion, “….you from New Orleans?”

Freeman crossed his legs, a simple act that somehow conveyed a rising loss of patience.

“Born and raised, detective. Native son if there ever was one.”

He slipped out his notepad and slapped it against the fleshy part of his hand. Brady’s spirit was withering.

A mistake?

“Understood.” Pushing off of the wall.

“Sorry to cause all this fuss over … my tryst with a dancer not too long ago.” Another bashful bachelor smile. “But it was just that. Fun. I never met her employer. I never even went to her shows. As for the place by the park-,”

“Beth’s.”

Alastor grinned to hide the flinch, “My doe, as you put it sir, was a real canary. But I haven’t been back there since I stopped seeing her. I’m sure if you asked they’d tell you the same.” The phone rang and Alastor apologized, putting a finger up, “Yes, Brenda?” The incessant woman asked what was taking so long. He smiled and nodded, “Thank you, tell them I’ll just be another minute.”

“We’ll be heading out. It seems I need to— to re-examine some things. Dig a little deeper.” Before Brady could retrieve his card to offer it to the radio host, Alastor was handing him his.

“Call anytime, but word to the wise. Brenda will answer first.” Alastor let out a loud and singular ‘ha!’

He rose to walk them out and Brady extended his hand again for him to shake, his stomach curdling at the touch. When the detective squeezed and shook his hand so hard his arm was moving up to the elbow he just laughed. He kept his own grip loose.

The limp and slender hand in his was disappointing. A final nail in his coffin, soft metal bending as it was struck.

Freeman smiled and hopped up, “Been a pleasure!”

Alastor took back his hand from Brady and wiped it off against his vest as soon as the men were turned around.

“Apologies for the disturbance, ma’am.” Brady kept his gaze down as he passed Brenda. Freeman set his card on her desk as he walked past.

“That’s a bunch of applesauce.” She hissed, refusing to stand.

Alastor’s mother taught him many things. Of this world and the other. Of the spirits always roaming and waiting. Of blue ceilings and birds hitting windows.

She warned him of people with heaviness, people who gathered bad energy like rain on a flat roof. That weight attracted likewise things. A gravity would form and pull in more and more darkness.

You’d mentioned a storm, and now Alastor was hearing that drip drip drip of the cracking roof.

He’d been taught to steer clear of those people with that darkness, because you don’t want to be there when the roof caved in.

She’d likened it to the sword of Damocles, don’t be so close you get cut when the blade finally drops. Don’t become collateral damage.

When his skin touched Brady’s, he felt that heaviness. The gravity. We’re you both slipping down the sloping pull of his swirling negativity?

He felt the urge to spit, which was uncouth and unlike him. Brenda was talking loudly to him but she was deep under the ocean and muffled perfectly well. His drunken mind had been wrong about many things, but one line of thinking had been on the money.

Something had to be done. An accident playing out in slow motion before him, threatening to take you both down with it.

A chill, insidious and violent made him turn on his heels and shut the door with force. There it was again, that fight or flight feeling. Twice in nearly as many days. Never did Alastor feel insecure in situations of life or death, not literal life or death that was. He didn’t care about dying.

The thought of losing you was that first trigger, but what was causing this one? What was his gut trying to warn him about now?

Distance was needed. He needed to get as far from that detective and his gravitational pull as possible. Perhaps not physically, but in every other sense. There was safety in that, he could feel it just over the disorienting whirl of fear.

If fear was a lark in his chest it’s little spine cracked and popped as it grew and mutated into a rageful osprey, anger opening his lungs and sinuses as blood rushed with renewed vigor. This was Brady’s fault, entirely. He was ruining everything. Alastor finally had what felt like all of the thj he wanted and deserved (anger dampening his usual insecurity of what was meant for him) and Brady was going to tear it apart.

There was a struggle to decide how to proceed. He thought perhaps telling you would bring him clarity, but if you asked him to not do anything at all he couldn’t be sure he’d be able to stop from lying to your face about his intentions.

A flash of confidence knowing he’d never lied to you died quickly, oh, he had lied to you. He’d lied to you in the alley before leaving to prepare to kill Tommy. He’d said it was the greater good of the community. A stain on his otherwise pristine morality when it came to you.

“How could they?”

Alastor’s head popped up, Brenda had opened his door unannounced and continued her raving.

“How could who do what?” He asked, smile small.

“Those detectives! Accuse you of debauchery!”

He imagined telling her how his morning started, fucking the nude dancer against his bedroom wall, arleady shacking up out of wedlock. Maybe it’d kill Brenda? That’d be convenient.

“I wonder if they are even real cops…I promise, I won’t let that nonsense back into this office, Alastor.” She gave him a thumbs up and left, leaving the door ajar.

Daylight was already creeping away sooner and sooner as the seasons began to change. The first day Alastor was gone and you were completely alone in his home for an extended period of time was passed in an awkward boredom. There wasn’t much to do…his house was kept tidy, food didn’t take much time, and you had no means to get into town. So you listened through his record collection, carefully turning the vinyls over with delicate fingers. You’d heard oils from your hand could ruin the grooves. No idea if that was true, but you couldn’t risk it. Alastor’s job kept relatively regular hours, so when you knew he had most likely left work you headed out front to wait. It was a foreign thing to do, and a little embarrassing. Dogs waited for their masters to come home. You stuffed the comparison down, knowing you were once again comparing apples to oranges. Worse than that, dogs to yourself.

“Welcome home!” You waited for the car door to close before greeting him, worrying over the timing. He froze between the car and the wooden steps. You stopped your swinging on the porch swing, noticing how odd it was to see someone completely still like that. You remembered the deer along the road. “What’s wrong?”

Every thought flew out his head and into the early setting sun. An odd deja vu came over him. He hadn’t heard those words in literal years. “No one has said that to me…since my mother died.”

Oh.

Oh. That was….sad. You grimaced. “Should I not say it then?”

“No!” He came to life, “I mean, yes. No, You should say it. If you want. It’s nice.” Staccato sentences as he took the three steps in just two. He leaned over on a novel instinct for a kiss, and you leaned up to meet him.

Another moment as you parted and both of you realized how odd the situation was. The killer and his dancer playing house. For a brief second, maybe heaven mistook you for something normal and good. When you smiled, trying to not say the obvious as you always did, he decided to not mention Brady. His first night coming home to you shouldn’t have to compete with that news. Tomorrow, he decided. He’d just….leave out which day Brady had stopped by. Not a lie, just an excluded, superfluous detail.

As you ate your dinner and he recounted his day, you made a decision of your own.

“Hey, Saturday, can you drop me off downtown for a bit? I need to change my shoes and do a little shopping.”

You needed the gift, to set the mood for your confession. You’d survived your first fight, you didn’t combust into a ball of fire when you kissed him goodbye for work, it made sense to do it now.

“Oh, did you want company? I don’t mind going out.” His little smile made it hard to deny him.

“Ah well, my friend is still staying over at my place and she may get uneasy with a man around. And my shopping….is at the kind of places men shouldn’t go. Frilly lacy places.” A terrible liar. “You should do something fun for Alastor! I’ll be maybe…four hours or so.”

He chewed slowly, since the misunderstanding he was a little more nervous than usual. You didn’t want him to join you, were you worried Brady would see? He shook his head, confusing you.

“...excuse me?” You laughed, “No?”

His head popped up, he still sometimes forgot you were right there and not on a phone, “Sorry, I was thinking about what to do with myself. No problem, sweetheart. You can just call me when you’re ready and I’ll head back into town. I’ll stick around the house, get some stuff ready for winter.”

“Perfect!” Perfect.

So it was decided. He would tell you tomorrow that Brady came by his office. And you’d tell him Saturday that you were in love with him.

That was the short lived plan. He couldn’t manage to wait. When the silence of the night settled and you had turned over to try and fall asleep, he broke.

“I really hate keeping secrets from you.” His fingers were pulling and pushing at the edge of the blanket.

You have secrets? You turned around and sat up.

“Brady and his partner came by today to my office, like you’d expected. I didn’t want to ruin our day, knowing how rarely we will live traditionally. But it’s just bothering the hell out of me.” His hands came to cover his cheeks and crawl into his hair out of stress. An overreaction, the weekend having truly discombobulated the man.

A beat of confusion, tense for Alastor but void of anything for you, until you burst into a relaxed laughter, “You’re ridiculous. You were really eaten up huh?”

“It isn’t funny!”

“It’s a litlte funny.” you pulled his head down onto your lap, “You coulda told me. It doesn't ruin anything. I told you he was going to look for you. I didn’t think he’d do it the next business day, but still.” He shifted his body to lie on his side and let you take off his glasses and set them on your side table. “Do you think he still suspects you?”

He thought about it. A little.

Maybe.

Brady seemed dejected when he had left, but he could see the wheels turning in his head as he was still searching for a way to make this puzzle pieces fit.

“Probably. His partner seemed to believe me. A listener, it turns out.” Alastor pouted, still upset at your laughter.

“That’s hilarious. I bet it pissed him off to no end, right?”

“He looked shocked. It was difficult to not laugh.” He let his legs fall off the side of the bed so he could turn onto his back and look up at you. “I told him you were a fling, that I had my fun and then disappeared because you were trouble. I said nude dancers getting beat up should be expected. I don’t mean that.”

“Of course you don’t. I remember your face when you saw through my makeup. Sure didn't look expected to me.”

His legs drew up, knees pressed together. “Was it still a good day?”

“You told me what was on your mind instead of driving yourself mad about it. It was a perfect day.” The open window let in enough light to see his stress melt away from the corner of his eyes.

He sat up and kissed your nose, “Thank you. You can sleep now.”

“Oh, I've been asleep the whole time. You’re gonna have to do this all again in the morning.”

“That’s not funny.”

You kissed his cheek and he smiled away the frown before settling back onto his side of the bed to earnestly sleep.

Flowers, you thought. You should buy flowers on Saturday, too.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Alastor nerves hadn’t settled yet, even if he slept well beside you. Every day he came home and you were still there felt like he’d been holding his breath the entire drive. During lunch he’d call the house so you could talk and eat together, in a sense. The conversation eased him, a confirmation you still liked him. An embarrassing fear he couldn’t let you on to.

He didn’t understand you spent the week calling record shops in search of something specific. Plotting exactly how you’d do it. You’d mastered the phonograph in the room beside the kitchen and found an old vase in the back of the cupboard.

The panic didn’t settle for you either though. It just shifted to the confession from Brady. As if through osmosis, Brady was now Alastor’s main concern as soon as their hands shook. You were less scared, as he really did seem to be dismissed by his colleague from what you saw. Dejected and forlorn from what Alastor had described.

Alastor was honest with you that he left work early to check on Brady midweek. He was practically dancing through the kitchen when he reported Brady went home on time for the first night in what could have been weeks. And he did so looking like shit.

And he felt like shit. When they left the radio station, Freeman gave him the silent treatment the entire ride back to work. He opened his mouth to offer an alternative theory, perhaps you or Alastor had a brother, but Freeman immediately shut him down.

“Stop. Enough.” He snapped from his desk. “It is over, Kenny. Let it go. Maybe some monster is out there doing all this crazy shit you think they are but it’s not this man nor this lady so just fucking drop it.”

He sat quietly the rest of the work day, thinking over everything again. It still felt right, but Alastor didn’t look right. Maybe it was a group, some new gang in town. Perhaps Alastor had some business with them.

Staring at his neatly folded map of downtown, his fingers slid over the last known locations of the various missing people over the past year.

Is downtown just inherently dangerous, he wondered. He supposed the map lined up with the jazz scene, and where there is dance and liquor there’s crime.

He went home to his wife and startled her with his promptness. While she was elated, he felt hollow. Purposeless. Freeman had warned him he’d invented this conspiracy to make work more interesting. Maybe that was right. Life was boring. Everything was so steady and stable. Nothing exciting anymore. It’s possible. He could have imagined a connection.

But his wife accidentally stoked the dying flame of his suspicions.

When he told her everything, about Alastor and the dancer he chased down and the missing Tommy, she hummed.

“He could be like that Holmes man in Chicago.” She smiled from across the meat and potatoes she’d slow cooked over the day.

Brady asked what she meant.

“He killed all these people at his hotel. On the outside he was a very fine looking man! Respected doctor, or something.” She took her time to chew, leaving Brady waiting for the point, “Turns out his hotel had some secret dungeon where he killed people. I’m fuzzy on the details, but, he hung for it. Maybe your guy has a secret room in his house or a cabin in the woods.”

He would have kissed her but he was too tired to move. As she continued on, changing to the topic of novels and then movies, he pushed the potatoes around his plate.

No way work would listen to him if he suggested it. He’d lost all of his goodwill. But, as a citizen, he could maybe just….look into the public records for the radio man. Any convenient structures he owned. No one needed to know, no embarrassment if he was wrong again.

Just, one more check. To be absolutely sure. For his peace of mind.

“So he murdered the actress for threatening to reveal he was only half white! It was a real shock. I swear talkies just get more and more intriguing.” She beamed sweetly across the table, happy to have him home, “By Hitchcock. Isn’t that a hoot?”

He nodded absentmindedly, “Sounds fun, dear.”

She let the misplaced comment go, and moved to turn on the radio. Something to fill the silence. She wondered if her favorite program was on, though it was a little late for that.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The day finally came, your highly anticipated and scheduled confession. Saturday morning you slipped on your shoes, pushing back thoughts of everything they’d seen, and slid into the car. You had a game plan. Apartment, get your stash and change out your shoes. Head to the phonograph shop on Calliope and grab the record. Flower shop, something bright and fragrant. Stop by the theater for a bottle of whatever they were willing to part with. Call him from there to pick you up behind the building.

Flawless.

Honestly, the easy part.

Alastor dropped you off in front of your building and you kissed him hurriedly. You didn’t need Ephi bounding down the steps and introducing herself.

You didn’t need Ephi, full stop.

“I’ll call you from the theater so I can wait inside. Lo-,” Your mouth opened to say it, as you’d been practicing it in your head all week, “Lucky me I’m still welcome there.” A quick save.

You waved him off and bounded up the steps. Ephi answered when you knocked, hair disheveled and still wearing the dress she must have worn out the night before.

A familiar dress.

“Who said you could wear my clothes?!” You kicked the door closed behind you.

Ephi fell back onto your bed with a creaking of the metal springs, “You didn’t say I couldn’t.”

Barely a second into the room and you were already reeling with anger. What a skill she had.

Shoes off, you threw them on top of the closet out of her natural reach and searched for something flatter. Not too flat though. Alastor always looked too good for you to look like you didn’t care for what was fashionable.

Deep breaths, you grabbed the dresser with both hands and wretched it from the wall, startling Ephi back awake.

“What the fuck? Are you taking the furniture?! It’s a fucking dress.”

Relief as you saw the handkerchief still taped to the backboard of the shelf. Ripping it off, you shoved it into your bag. No need to count it, had Ephi found the cash the entire thing would be gone already.

“Are you hiding money around your apartment…,” it wasn’t a question so much as an oddly worded accusation.

Your march to the door paused, briefly entertaining carrying your remaining clothes around with you but abandoning the idea. Let her borrow them for now, you were busy today.

You were gone without a goodbye, anger simmering away and evaporating with every block.

As the distance between your problem and you became greater, the gap was closing in on Alastor and his.

He was in the kitchen splashing his face with water, dusty from sweeping the porch, when he heard a car door slam shut. Not a normal sound for him to hear. Even more out of place than a ‘welcome home’. A moment of concern as he quickly dried his hands, maybe you had gotten a ride home already. It was possible he missed your call, but he’d kept the windows open to hear the phone.

When he came to the front door, no one was there. A car was parked a ways behind his own though. Alastor stepped out and looked around the wrap around porch before turning back and going to the back door. Past the stairs and the kitchen doorway, he could see the shape of a man. He was standing in front of the greenhouse with both hands on his hips, staring at it. Bright hair reflecting the sun.

The screen door whined as Alastor opened it, announcing him much sooner than he had wanted. It was finally happening. The moment that was both inevitable and fiercely guarded against.

“Census information is quite easy to find with a name like yours.”

Alastor tried to muster a hospitable smile, “Detective Brady. To what do I owe the sudden visit?”

Brady turned around and pointed over his shoulder with his thumb, “I need to go get a warrant?”

The air between them tightened. “Not at all, did you want to come inside?”

Brady nodded, a smug smile and a wink, “Sure do.”

Alastor returned to the kitchen for the key, grabbing a small paring knife and placing it in the back pocket of his slacks. Sharp and quick.

“Wasn’t expecting guests…,” he admitted as he came back down the clean steps. He was never expecting guests, but he had been expecting this.

“Good.” Brady clapped his hands together, “Quite the building ya got here.” He followed Alastor in and immediately looked up to the tall ceiling. “An uncommon thing to have. Only seen them at real fancy public places.”

Alastor turned right, following the winding path of busy shelves and potted trees with a practiced ease. Brady watched him slip between two large plants and hesitated.

With a hand on his gun, be pushed through.

“Ya know what my wife and I were just talking about?” He followed close behind. He couldn’t see Alastor but he could hear the leaves rustling. “H. H. Holmes.”

“Another missing manager?” Alastor asked from the other side of some crowded shelves.

“It’s thought he killed 9 people up in Chicago.” Brady emerged from the makeshift jungle to see Alastor standing in the center.

“Busy man!” Alastor stood with his hands behind his back, sheathed in his pockets. “This is where the magic happens!” He nodded to the stainless steel table. “My gardening space.”

Brady looked at the table, then up to the high ceilings again. He took a step toward the table and crouched down.

His heels sunk in. Standing, he pressed his shoe in the soil around the table. Backing off he then tested the ground some feet away. It was noticeably firmer. “Ground sure is soft over there.”

“Water! Turns out plants love the stuff. Who knew!” Alastor’s fingers curled around the knife’s handle, “I prune, propagate, and repot them here and rinse it off after. Due to the shade of the table, the ground tends to stay wet longer.” He wondered if Brady had told anyone where he was. Maybe Freeman?

The whole thing could be expedited by letting him bleed out on the greenhouse floor. Just a few swipes and this could all be over. He could maybe even have him gone before you called.

Another little secret. Just one. Brady’s life was an insignificant detail.

Plausible, the detective thought. Brady examined the floor closer, unaware of Alastor’s eyes locked on his neck. He didn’t see much of a soft spot. It’d be improbable to bury all the bodies in such a small space. He’d have to dig too deep.

“So you actually do like to garden?” He asked.

Alastor laughed, “No, that was a lie. This is all meticulously maintained for aesthetics.”

Brady’s own laugh was dry in reply, the joke not funny or appreciated, “Night gardening?” He pointed his chin up to the light hanging above them.

“I prefer early mornings, before work.” Alastor leaned back on his heels, he’d waited for this conversation for years. It was almost fun. Brady didn’t know how predictable his arrival had been on some vague level.

Brady nodded and motioned for Alastor to lead him out. He didn’t want the man behind him.

As they snaked their way out again, Alastor fought the sickening feeling in his stomach to just do it.

But he’d never acted quite so impulsively. He normally had a few hours to think it out beforehand.

He’d been thinking this out for months now in a way, though, hadn’t he?

Alastor locked the door after Brady stepped out and Brady looked around the land. He couldn’t see any fences, but saw on his way in just how spread out the other homes were.

“How far is the property line, if you don’t mind me asking? Seems to be quite a large parcel.” He had a rough idea from the paperwork he’d found.

“It’s about 15 acres, from what I recall.” It was exactly 14.2 acres according to the paperwork. He knew every step by heart.

As he watched Brady eye the land with a dismissive glance, he realized he’d never killed anyone at his home. It didn’t seem to be a good idea. Like they’d taint the land. Plus, killing the cop in the backyard was about as opposite of what you’d asked of him as he could get.

The detective slapped his notebook against his palm and whistled, “Radio pays well, huh?”

“Better than a detective, maybe. But this was all my mother’s land.” He said it with pride, one hand leaving his pocket to gesture at the house and beyond.

“Your mother. And she… how exactly did someone like her get her hands on a plot like this?” Brady squinted at the tree line, knowing full well how he said it. “Quite a bit of land for someone of her… background.” He quickly turned his full body to Alastor, “You see that movie, ‘Murder!’, by Hitchcock? My wife was saying how interesting it was over dinner the other night. Your receptionist mentioned you like the movies.”

Alastor bristled, he’d seen the film and picked up the tone being taken, “Did you want to see anything else, Kenneth? Or did you drive all the way here to quiz me on your wife's morbid interests?”

“Detective Brady.” He corrected.

“Maybe in the Orleans parish.” Alastor took a step toward him. He reveled in the confused expression Brady made. “Oh you didn’t realize when you crossed the lake? This is St. Tammany. You’re out of jurisdiction.” Another step. “So I’ll call you whatever I damn well please.”

Brady finally noticed the dwindling space between them and the shadow of the house creeping over Alastor’s face. “Maybe I should head out and get that warrant.”

Alastor’s arms went out in a shrug, “Ah, well, good luck finding a judge to approve you harassing a law abiding land owner for…what exactly? A drugged out criminal who stopped showing up to work? Forgive me for not holding my breath. Now kindly get the fuck off my mother’s property. “

Brady shook his head, not able to do much more. He couldn’t process the truth in what Alastor had said. “Have a good day, Alastor.”

“And you have a safe night, Kenneth.”

Brady stopped, hand curling into a fist that Alastor didn’t fail to notice.

“Is that some kind of threat?” It was the way he dragged out the two words. The gleeful range in which he said them.

“Not at all. A warning really, there’s been some unhinged man harassing dancers lately. Demanding their private information, accusing them of silly crimes. Has the station not heard?” Alastor’s finger came to his chin inquisitively, “Perhaps I should give them a call. Who was your boss again. Freeman, was it?”

Brady felt his stomach drop, “What did you say.” If Alastor hadn’t been with you since before the assault, how did he know that Brady had been struggling to track you down?

“As a man about town who runs in important circles, word travels fast of bothersome people. Helps us learn where to avoid.”

Brady was still holding onto hope that Alastor was your man but now, his throat ran dry. He got more than that.

A man who ran in various circles of the nightlife scene.

A man above the fray, a position afforded to him by the respect of his job.

A man people talked to often, therefore a man people saw everywhere. So it was never odd that he was always in the places where people went missing. He was ubiquitous. Where the jazz played, Alastor was there.

A man with no wife to complain so his nights were free.

A large piece of land. A chip on his shoulder.

“You son of a bitch…I didn’t tell you Tommy had been involved in drugs. I was right.” The sentence got quieter and softer as he trailed on until he could only whisper, “You killed him.”

Alastor watched the color drain from Brady’s face as the realization hit, but the ‘son’ comment blanketed his frontal cortex and dampened impulse control, “On second thought; yes.”

It was just an expression, son of a bitch, but it’d been the wrong one to use so carelessly. Alastor’s heart was pounding in his ears and behind his eyes.

The detective kept his gaze locked on Alastor as he fished out his keys. His hand shook violently as he tried to get the car door key in his fingers. “Yes what?” Glancing down for a fraction of a second to check he had the right one.

“That was a threat.”

Alastor’s hand twitched, he fought the rage bubbling up his throat. His vision was beginning to turn red around the edges. He could hear Aubrey squeaking out the first syllable of that damn word just behind his left ear.

Perhaps he was the blade hanging over Brady’s head.

With even paces he walked over to the stump where he chopped wood and pulled the axe out, “Ya know! Something about you makes my fucking skin crawl.” He pointed it at Brady, the detective taking note of the arm strength needed to hold the unevenly heavy tool steady and parallel to the ground. “I do hope for your sake this is our final meeting. You should leave now.” His head titled to the left, “And keep your nose clean, Kenneth. It’s a dangerous time for bad men in New Orleans.”

Brady walked backwards to his car as Alastor advanced briskly with the blade still raised. When they reached the front porch Brady turned and booked it, glancing behind to see Alastor standing beside the porch on foot worn grass.

As the car started Alastor dropped the axe until it’s flat top of the blade rested on the ground and he leaned his weight onto it akin to a cane. His free hand’s fingers waved goodbye before dropping down to his side limply. He stood there with eyes fixed and body still as a predator waiting for its opportunity. How many gators had Brady watched from the shore with just that look? He peeled out, sight unseen as he blindly backed onto the unpaved road, and made a beeline to the nearest phone.

He had to tell someone. He was right. He had been right the whole time. Alastor killed Tommy Dupre. And there was no doubt in Brady’s swirling mind that you knew that fact.

⋅˚₊‧ ଳ⋆Masterlist.ೃ࿔*:･

˖ ݁𖥔.Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult.𖥔 ݁ ˖

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#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin hotel fanfiction #alastor x reader #Human Alastor x reader #alastor smut

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sophia-zofia · 1 year ago

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Here’s a personal story about Palestinian child prisoners: - In 2012, I was arrested in Hebron while participating in a march to open Shuhada street, which was a main market street for Palestinians until the Israeli military shut it down, and made it for Israeli settlers only. It’s part of the area @JamaalBowmanNY visited. - Handcuffed and blinded by pepper spray, and thrown in the back of an Israeli humvee after my head was slammed against it, the soldiers drive off. They suddenly stop, run out, and all I hear is a child screaming and crying. - This child is then thrown on top of me, and is handcuffed. I ask him his age, he said 13. I asked him what happened, he says he was walking to his sister’s house and they just stopped and picked him up. He’s in panic mode crying “my sister cooked lunch for me, she’ll be terrified if I’m lost”. I tell him not to worry, we’ll make it out and give him the basic tips: You have a right to remain silent, don’t say anything without a lawyer…etc. - We get to the Israeli military outpost, we’re dragged out of the humvee. The kid’s terrified, telling them not to blind him (He thought I was blinded because of the pepper spray, I couldn’t open my eyes). - The smack the kid around and tell him to shut up. - We wait a bit, then kid is called in for interrogation. - The Israeli military interrogator literally tells him: I’ll let you go home, you just need to confirm the guy with you led the protest and told you to throw the stones at us. - Kid says I want to call my family/lawyer. Interrogator says ok: Picks up mobile and gives it to kid. Kid puts in his mother’s number. Soldier snatches mobile. The mother answers. Soldier says: Your son is going to go to jail and if he doesn’t talk I’ll come and arrest you too. Puts it on speaker, mother is panicking. Kid starts to panic. Soldier hangs up in her face. - Soldier tells kid: I can make your family’s life hell. But if you say what I told you to say, everything will be ok. - Kid starts sobbing and says: But I don’t know this guy I just met him in the humvee when you picked me up. Sitting outside the room, I yell: Kid, stay strong, say your truth and don’t fall into his lies.

- They come and take me away. Thirty minutes later kid comes out of interrogation shaken. He says the soldier told him he’d shoot his mother. The poor child told me not to worry though, he only said the truth 🥺. - The case brought against this poor kid was stone throwing, with two soldiers “testifying” they saw him throw a stone. - He spent 3 months in prison as court hearings kept getting delayed, eventually he was advised by his lawyer to “admit” to stone throwing because that way he’d spend less time in prison because the lawyer could be able to negotiate his release in 4 months, while waiting for a ruling from Israel’s military courts could take a year. - In short, working on this issue in Palestine for 12 years, I can tell you the majority of child arrests in Palestine follow this exact pattern: - Israel wants to teach a Palestinian community a lesson, deterring people from protesting its oppression. - It targets the kids, arresting dozens - up to 700 a year. - Majority of kids get abused and interrogated. - Lawyers and kids know it’s better to “confess” even if they didn’t do the crime, as waiting for a ruling and being in uncertainty/limbo is hell. That’s why you have a 95% conviction rate. - Then the Israeli government, when challenged for the systematic abuse, comes out and says: “These kids are terrorists - they attacked our soldiers and admitted to it.” - And because the lives of Palestinian children don’t matter, the world turns a blind eye again and again and again and again.

#palistine #free palestine #israel #west bank

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mindmelter · 10 months ago

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The Body Wearing Convention - Las Vegas

The BWA (Body Wearing Alliance) was formed 20 years ago when the internet was just starting to get popular. Those born with the rare ability of reducing people into wearable skins didn't knew there was more like them out there, but with the help of the internet they started to find others with the same ability, and soon it was created the BWC (Body Wearing Convention)

The Body Wearing Convention is a clandestine event that happens a few times every year, hidden from the prying eyes of the public, It is a secret event where they can gather, share stories, and find solace in the knowledge that they aren't alone in their power.

The BWC happens in a different country every time, for safety reasons, and the main two rules to participate in the convention is: To be a Skinwalker (That's how they call themselves) and to wear the body of a local from that place, that means you can't bring with yourself skins from home.

Currently the secret Alliance is made up of 130 men around the world. But among these 130 members, there are 10 men who are very close friends with each other, they all share one thing in common: They are all gay.

Surprisingly they are the only gay guys of the entire Alliance, while all the others sought power and money, these 10 friends only care about getting hard in a new sexy body, It was like a sport for them. That's why they created an online group chat, where they can talk and share pictures of their current bodies with each other.

The location of the BWC this time is: USA - Las Vegas.

The 10 friends all arrived individually at the city in an early Friday, the convention would occur during the weekend, so they had to find a new skin quickly, and so they went straight on a hunt for a random local body.

Think of the BWC as the Met Gala, but for people who can turn you into a wearable hollow fleshsuit in a blink. There was this unspoken competition among them, to see who was wearing the hottest or richest skin, and this group of friends clearly didn't care about the last one...

_______________________________________

Carl is a 46 years old married gay man, he is part of the BWA for 17 years, and there is nothing Carl love more than wearing the bodies of fit straight guys. His husband knows he's a skinwalker and is totally fine with it. But because his husband is not a skinwalker, he is not allowed to go to the conventions, so Carl always travels alone.

(Friday, March 1st. 8:19 AM) Carl Sent A Photo

Carl: I just turned this hot Latino stud in the hotel parking lot. He was walking towards his car while talking on the phone with his girlfriend. That's when I slowly walked behind him and turned him. What do you guys think? Do I wear him well?

Harold: You're looking so hot. You always pick the most hottest guys.

Elijah: Wow, you already found a body? That was fast.

Joel: He's not that impressive, I would give him a 6/10 lol

Elijah: Stop being a jerk Joel. This guy is clearly a 9/10

Carl: Don't mind him Elijah, he's just jealous of my pick.

Joel: He's not really my type, today I'm looking for a sexy tough looking guy to wear.

Peter: Hot choice of skin Carl! Show us his dick please!

Carl: You will have to wait until the Convention to see it. But i'm telling you, he's really big and thick, I know you're gonna love sucking it.

_______________________________________

David is 34 years old and he is part of the BWA for 13 years.

He first found out about his ability when his homophobic stepbrother was trying to beat him up, David closed his eyes and tried to protect his head, but when he opened his eyes, he saw his hot stepbrother lying on the floor completely deflated. David had the most fun years living the life of his douchebag of a stepbrother, until one day, his stepbrother just "disappeared"

(Friday, March 1st. 9:46 AM) David Sent A Photo:

David: I made two new bodysuits. I saw the handsome blond one at the hotel's pool, he was trying to seduce some girls by showing off his hot body, he just didn't knew he was actually seducing a skinwalker. To get him, I first had to convert this cute room service attendant, after I put him on, I got access to his room and walked inside. I think I'm going to use the attendant tonight for some fun.

Elijah: Oh, the good old room service method. It works every time.

David: It was you who taught me this method back in 2011 when I was still a new member of the BWA.

Damian: It brings back good memories from that one time where we all stayed at the same hotel in the 2011 Convention. Good times.

_______________________________________

Peter Is a 40 years old gay bottom who love to turn big hunky men into Bodysuits and act like a slut in their bodies. He is part of the Body Wearing Alliance for 9 years.

(Friday, March 1st. 11:28 AM) Peter Sent A Photo:

Peter: Do I look cute? This is Ramón, I turned him at an alley while he was jogging, he's a bodybuilder. I'm gonna make such a good use of his muscles. I'm sure you guys are going to love the muscles in his ass the most.

Joel: I love how you always pick the most biggest guys.

Daniel: I feel bad for this poor bastard, of all the Skinwalkers, he was picked by the most perverted one.

Peter: lol

Carl: He's huge. I'm going to enjoy burying my new thick latino dick in your bodybuilder's ass.

Harold: I really like his pecs. I want to suck on them when we meet tomorrow.

Peter: It's always the pecs for you isn't, Harold? lol

Harold: You're not lying. Actually I just saw this hot guy at the mall and he seems to have very big pecs. I'm going to follow him.

_______________________________________

Harold is a 28 years old scrawny gay man, he has no muscle definition, but he love pecs and it was what he first looked for in a body: Their huge pecs. If the guy didn't had two big meaty pecs, he wound't want them.

He went to the local LA mall to hunt for a body, he knew that the mall was always the perfect place for hunting skins. And he was proven just right when he saw this big and tall hunk walk inside a clothing store. Harold smirked as he entered the store and followed the man.

(Friday, March 1st. 1:05 PM) Harold Sent A Photo:

Harold: Who want some milk boys? Daddy got all the milkers now.

Peter: Oh my god, look at the size of these tits. I will let you suck on Ramón's tits if you let me suck yours.

Harold: This sounds like a good deal.

Carl: Very nice choice of skin! Good job, Harold.

Peter: Can you send a video of you playing with those hairy tits and pinching his nipples? Please?

(1:15 PM, Harold Sent A 20 Seconds Video To The Group Chat)

In the vídeo he was in the middle of the store, squeezing his new pair of meaty hairy pecs, he lifted one of them and let go, watching them bounce, then he pinched his left nipple and let out a deep loud moan. Without feeling any shame for being in a public space. It wasn't technically him who was being humiliated in public, so he didn't cared.

_______________________________________

Damian and Rashad are a black gay couple (47, 49) they have been together for 11 years and they both had met each other during a Body Wearing Convention back in 2013. It was very known to everyone that they only turned white men into Bodysuits, it was their favorite type of skins. So there was no diversity in their Bodysuit closet, only white men.

(Friday, March 1st. 3:07 PM) Damian Sent A Photo:

Damian: You guys know how Rashad and I love to hunt white boys, so what better place to find some white skins than at the LA beach? We saw this group of young frat boys surfing and we converted these two 19 years olds, they were just the most handsome ones in their group. Turns out they are twin brothers.

David: This is such a hot pair, and the fact they are brothers makes it even more hot!

Carl: I want to fuck the long haired one with my thick latino dick while I pull his hair.

Damian: I like this Idea. His long hair would be great to use as a handle for a hard fuck. I might even try It later tonight.

David: Send us a video if you do.

_______________________________________

Joel is the youngest one of the group, at only 19 he already has a count of 86 Bodysuits, and he's part of the Body Wearing Alliance for only 1 year. That's why, the BWA leader tasked Elijah, a veteran in the art of wearing bodies, to watch for Joel and not let the young man expose their secret society.

(Friday, March 1st. 5:14 PM) Joel Sent A Photo:

Joel: My new bodysuit is still deflating. I can't wait to finally wear him and show him to you guys. He's so hot.

Carl: You gave my bodysuit a 7/10, so he better be a 10/10.

Isaac: Wow he's packing.

Harold: When he deflate, please send us a pic of you in him. I want to see if his front looks as good as his back side.

(Friday, March 1st. 5:40 PM) Joel Sent A Photo:

Joel: I'm inside him now. I saw this sexy daddy at the hotel's bar. I waited for him to go to his room and then I followed him, as soon as he opened the door I converted him, right there at the door's entrance, I mean, of course he took a bit longer to deflate, so I had to drag him inside. I actually wanted to wear a scary looking soldier that I saw at the bar, but Elijah didn't let me. Still, I'm very glad with my pick.

Harold: Holly fuck!!!

Peter: He's a very sexy bodysuit. Wish I was there to give him a very special room service.

Carl: Where is Elijah by the way? Should he not be with you?

Joel: Elijah Is outside, I don't know where he went, but he said he was going to be back soon.

Carl: Did he picked a bodysuit already?

Joel: Yes he did, a young and hot fuckboy. Let me send a pic of him.

Joel Sent A Photo:

Joel: This is the body Elijah picked to wear at the convention tomorrow. I think he got this one at the hotel's bathroom maybe? I'm not sure. I hope he don't mind that I'm wearing his brand new skin.

Elijah: Boy, you're in big trouble!

Joel: Shit, I'm sorry, I thought you wouldn't mind. I'm gonna take him off.

Elijah: Don't you dare taking him off, I'm not going to wear him anymore, I found a better body to wear tomorrow. wait for me, I'm getting up there right now.

(Friday, March 1st. 6:22 PM) Elijah Sent A Photo:

Elijah: You don't want to disobey me in my new body, boy, so you better be on your knees when I get inside, I'm horny and this guy have big balls full of cum.

Joel: Yes sir!

Peter: Oh yes sir indeed!

Carl: lol you're fucked Joel.

_______________________________________

Isaac is a 24 years old gay man, and like everyone else in this group, he was addicted to wearing hunky men. He is more reserved and shy, and don't talk much in the group chat. However, he enjoys jerking off while viewing the photos his friends would send to the group chat.

He might be the most shy and reserved in the group, but once he's wearing a handsome hunk, he becomes a whole new different person, a more dominant and cocky one.

(Friday, March 1st. 8:37 PM) Isaac Sent A Photo:

Isaac: Seeing you guys wearing such hot bodies is getting me so freaking hard. I can't wait for tomorrow. I got this one at the gym's lockerroom. Who wants to take care of my boner?

Peter: I do! I want to get on my knees in Ramón's body and let you use his slutty mouth.

Harold: You're looking so damn hot, Isaac, good pick.

Carl: Was you working out? Your skin looks very sweaty.

Isaac: I was. I wanted to test out my new muscles.

Carl: Great. Can't wait for the convention tomorrow, where we can finally see each other's bodies in person and have the orgy of the year.

#bodysuit

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