Stalk-her-
Stalker, gawker, a real bird eye hawker
Shocker the mocker is trying to copy her
Your jealousy will never make you an applauder
Can never cheer for others daughters
I'll be watching your karma while I drink spring water
Honey I have the pen so I'm the author
You are on a very dangerous teeter-taught-her
And teach you it will a lesson from this blogger
Fear mongerer constantly sending profiles of erotica
I bet they would be given an Oscar
You can have your onlyfans and I'll be William Faulkner
Excuse me while I set my tea cup on this saucer
For they say come hell or high water
I'll be waiting for your ego slaughter
And you'll be nothing more than a envious shit-talker.
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Begging for someone to break into Bee’s house and König only finds out bc of the bug, so he takes care of it
Here's where we get more of König being insane about his crush. Introducing(formally) the perimeter alarm.
An alert pings on König's phone as he's herding the last horse into their stall. He pats the over-large animal affectionately as he tugs his phone free and swipes through the notifications. He frowns, opening the property map and scanning for where the break pinged. Your side of the farm, not good. Hopefully it's just a wild animal that's wandered too far from the woods and set off the alarm.
He pulls the back wall of the barn open, survey's his arsenal, then grabs a rifle and a few tranquilizer rounds. If it is an animal, he'd hate to hurt the poor thing. If it isn't... Well better not to take care of it on your property.
It's a short ride through the pasture to get decent sight lines. Your house is dark, that's good. König raises the rifle, steadying it against his shoulder. The small movements of the horse under him are a little tricky, but nothing he can't deal with. Grace under pressure is what got him the rank of colonel in the first place.
He sweeps his sights around your house. While the breach hadn't been too close, it did take him time to get here. No deer, no foxes or coyotes threatening your brightly painted chicken coop, no raccoons in your trash. König frowns, sweeping wider just as a flashlight wanders its way around the blind side of your house. That makes this easier. His brain clicks through calculations, before taking aim and watching for impact. The quiet thunk of his silenced rifle firing is like music to his ears.
The figure startles a little, grasps at the dart's entry point, stumbles and collapses. And they said he couldn't be a sniper.
König rides closer to the fence, and hops off his horse, fishing some rope out of the saddle bags. It's always so easy to hop your fence. He keeps his eyes on your bedroom window, careful to stay quiet as he makes his way to your back door and your would be intruder. It's only when he turns the man over and he feels the cold grip of malice that he really decides what he's going to do next.
The man awakes in a single chair, in a small concrete room. It's dark, the only light coming from a single bare bulb hanging over head. Across from him, König leans forward. Watching with his elbows resting on his knees as the man jerks and panics against his restraints.
"It is very fortunate that I found you when I did," König tells him, "I would not have been able to stop myself if you'd actually gotten into the house."
"Where am I?" The man spits, König clicks his tongue, shakes his head.
"Now now, you are asking the wrong question. You should be asking, 'who are you?'" König motions with his hand, "Go on."
"Fine, who the fuck are you," The man's face is red with barely contained rage.
"I'm the man that's going to kill you."
All the motion seems to drain out of the man, his muscles locking up in fear or perhaps realization as König stands. The little metal table he drags over shakes and bumps along the uneven ground. It's only the noise of it, the sort of slick friction of metal against plastic, that makes the man look down at the tarp covering the floor.
"Don't look so worried, this is going to hurt a lot, but not for very long." König pauses, picking up a file, "Well, not for me anyway. For you it will feel like an eternity."
"I- Whatever it is you want we can work something out," The man asks, begs, leaning back in his chair as best he can as König draws closer. "I've got money, you want money? Or- or- shit!"
"No money," This part is always fun, the begging, the crying, the last shred of hope, "you hurt someone very precious to me, and I can't let that happen again."
"I don't even know who you are," The tears are starting. König grips his jaw hard, forces his mouth open to give the file room to drag against the man's teeth.
"But I know who you are," König hums over the grating noise of file against enamel, the building panicked scream, "and that's all that matters, isn't it?"
Yes, König thinks, that is all that matters. It isn't as if the man is fit to answer the question anyway, what with the amateur dentistry happening. This is really fantastic timing on your ex-husband's part, well fantastic for König. He'd just been wondering if and when would be appropriate to rid your life of this scum. It wasn't like you'd miss him, truly no one would, but timing was -is- everything.
An extended business trip, a few bad investments, a drunken if slightly rabid text exchange. König kept close eyes on his targets, even if he told himself it was just to keep you safe. He knew every detail, every movement this bastard made. How convenient that his tour of stupidity would lead him right into König's hands. His car might be a problem, but it's nothing König hadn't handled before.
König pulls back from his work to stare at the bloody gums and nubbed teeth. The man sobs, gurgled bubbling spit turning red from the rough orthodontics as he tries to speak around the pain. König thinks he'll do the fingers next, maybe try inserting some metal screws into his legs. It doesn't really matter what tortures he puts the man through, it'll all be burned away in the end.
König wakes you up in the morning, his knocking on your front door thunders through your house. Although you suppose it could be anyone knocking on your door, you don't really get any visitors but him. You pull a pair of shorts on to answer the door, just barely awake enough to deal with people. Your alarm isn't set to go off for another two hours at least.
When you pull your door open you blink blearily up at König. His eyes dart over you, taking in your pyjamas as you rub your eyes with a frown. You don't know what was so important it couldn't wait for later in the morning.
"König s'early, what're you doing here?" You yawn. König's expression is soft and affectionate, it's too early for that.
"I thought I'd make you breakfast," He pulls his bandana down for you to see his smile. You hum and turn to go back into the house, figuring he'll follow you like always. König's hand catches your head and spins you to face him again, dragging you for a kiss. His fingers tighten their hold on you as his lips drag against yours. It's the sweetest good morning you've ever gotten. You wonder what's gotten into him.
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Living for conspiracy Steve. You know if they tried anything Joan the Disservice cat would be on the case. You also know Diane clocked it during her looky loo walks and she’s got tea. An alliance is forming.
What’s funny about Steve’s paranoia with the electric company van parked outside is that it’s definitely just the electric company.
If SoMeBoDy would just listen to reason then maybe they might remember the bad weather they’ve been having. They live in a suburb just outside of Chicago. It’s windy and wind messes with powerlines, but Steve isn’t dumb. Thank you very much.
He knows that.
Just like he knows what logo Mike said was on the van that El flipped. And like he said, “It’s spycraft 101. Of course, they’re here after a storm. It’s inconspicuous.”
“Big word,” Eddie replies appreciatively. “How do you know that?”
“I took the SATs?”
“Now the word! Why do you think that they’re tapping our phones?”
“It’s in all the movies, Eddie.”
There’s an unspoken duh tacked on to the end of Steve’s sentence and Eddie kinda loves it. He kinda loves how confident Steve is when he’s convinced himself this shit is real and a little part of Eddie wants to play along, but he knows how quickly it can all go bad so, “Baby, please. Stevie, what are they tapping into? We don’t have a landline.”
Steve pauses to think and then peaks back out through the blinds. He mutters, “You don’t know how wiretaps work?”
“Do you?”
Steve just purses his lips and looks even harder out the window which is just Steve-speak for ‘no, actually. I don’t know how wiretaps works because no one does.’ It makes Eddie grin, sliding up behind him and whispering in his ear, “Don’t you think one of our half dozen nosy neighbors would’ve told us if someone was spying on us?”
“Not if-“
“Baby, Diane came over twice last week because she saw a suspicious car in our driveway,” Eddie hums. “It was our car, Steve.”
Steve relaxes back against his chest a little but he knows the battle is not yet won so, Eddie adds, “Sweetheart, think about it. They’d know.”
“That’s true,” Steve relents just a little and then says, “Unless one of our neighbors is a spy.”
“No, baby.”
“Like a nosy neighbor that’s always in our business,” Steve continues, building confidence. “And who has always been in our business ever since we moved in…and who is talking to the electric company people right now.”
Eddie looks out through the peak in the blinds Steve is making and watches as Diane makes her way down her driveway in her pink house shoes, waving at the man halfway up the telephone pole. She calls something up at him but they’re too far away to hear it.
He can feel Steve pull away and Eddie thinks, damn it.
“Well, that friendship was good while it lasted.”
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