#thefreddylounds

[empatheticinvestigator-blog]

✉ ✘ ☠

Send ✉ for an 2 AM text

[text; Lounds] Fuck off, Lounds. 

Send ✘ for an unsent text

[text; Lounds] Fuck off, Lounds. 

Send ☠ for a threatening message

[text; Lounds] Fuck off, Lounds. 

[quitethehumanitarian-archiv-blog]

"How long have you been there?"

       "―Suffice it to say I've been here long enough, Mr. Lounds."

[vicemirrored-a]

"How long have you been there?"

                ❝I don’t think that’s really your business.❞

[l-ange-en-rouge-archived]

[text]Either way I’m going to make you scream my name by the end of the night.

"That’s a very bold statement, Mr. Lounds,"

[reformabit]

It was as if Francis had smelt him when he came in. Like the writer's cheap suit radiated a stench that repelled him. He had seen him come in, but Francis would not linger long enough to see why he was here. He was quick to avoid potential confrontation from the man known as Freddy Lounds. Yes. He had heard of him. He often read his work. It aided to many things, Francis' disgust and the world's filth. 

Francis moved into the backroom where film was strung up to dry. If Freddy proceeded to go further through the offices, he could go out the back door. Or face him. He preferred neither so his back remained facing the door, hoping no one pointed Mr. Lounds in his direction, if he was the one he was seeking. 

[devourtheimpolite]

۩

"I do believe you need to learn some better manners when it comes to your occupation, Mister Lounds, but you can be quite an enjoyable guest to have for dinner."

[ofgoodwill]

Moan~

Send me "Moan" and I'll generate a number!

Sixteen: Your muse removes one article of my muse’s clothing

    Freddy Lounds was a frustrating man.

    Initially, Alan hadn't given him much thought; reporters always had an air about them that was quite easy to read. They would do what they had to for a story, for something to reveal to the world. But as time went by, he came ot know just how capavle Freddy was of getting underneath anyone's skin; he did it with such a professional ease, and it was only twice as aggravating that the man didn't have any trouble figuring out which buttons to push.

    And even as the two were in such close proximity in Alan's office, even as Alan's hands grappled with the shirt Freddy wore--that irritation hadn't faded. The look upon Freddy's features was smug, almost as though he was far too proud to be the reason for Alan's unraveling. He was the reason for mussed, dark tresses, the reason behind the gentle flush that coated his complexion. They both tormented one another with the prospect of another heated kiss, lips lingering in the air centimeters away from one another's. 

    Freddy's breathy huff of amusement was borderline infuriating, and Alan watches as the other moved back, hands making quick work of the psychologist's tie. Fingers flexed in Alan's shirt, before releasing--allowing the reporter to distance himself from him enough to pop open the buttons of his attire. He was quick to shrug the shirt off, not caring for where it handed as his hands found their place once more, a tight grip in the collar of Freddy's shirt, tugging him in and relenting for another thorough, rough press of lips.

[ofgoodwill]

☏

☏: Drunk, High, or Emotional Voicemail.

Deciding to call Freddy Lounds while intoxicated was perhaps the worst thing he could've done. And, yet, he was doing just that--intentions set on saying to the man what he was far too well-put together to say when sober. The fact that Freddy didn't pick up was a warning that he didn't heed, and he waited as the voicemail recording told him to leave a message. "Freddy Lounds," the way his voice dragged over the words was a clear indication of his state, "you are--such a bastard." Despite the words, his tone lacked any conviction. "And--if you ever plan on gettin' a story from me, you're mistaken." A pause. "--Couldn't even pick up the phone. Coward."