#True Burlesque

[superficialcore]

Cute ｡ﾟ•┈🎀┈• ｡ﾟ

[brownskinsugarplum76]

[theheadlessgroom]

@beatingheart-bride

"You got breakfast in bed, Mama?" Lon asked in surprise (he thought you only got to eat in bed when you were sick!), to which Randall replied, "She sure did. See, Grandpa Wil used to make Grandma June breakfast in bed for her birthday and Mother's Day, and she used to make him breakfast in bed for his birthday and Father's Day, so I thought it'd be nice to do the same."

Thinking about it, he realized he had a couple of very fuzzy memories when it came to these breakfasts; remembering vaguely helping his parents when he was very small, in particular his father...he couldn't remember if it was June's birthday or Mother's Day, he just recalled, however hazily, toddling around with a little vase in his hands, trailing after his father as they entered the bedroom, and his mother kissing his cheek when he presented her with the flower...

Leaving this hazy memory behind, he smiled as he recalled, "I got better at baking after that incident-we used to make little king cakes together for Mardi Gras; we never had anything hidden in them, of course, but they were still lots of fun to make and decorate."

Knowing all about the delights of king cake and other Mardi Gras cuisine (especially since Mardi Gras was such a major holiday at the Mansion; Uncle Dori and Aunt Lizzie wouldn't have it any other way), the twins lit up at this, only for Erika to then falter, asking, "Will...will Grandpa August and Grandma Josie come back for Mardi Gras?"

"And what about Christmas? And Thanksgiving?" Lon asked, their gleeful smiles having been replaced by a sense of uncertainty, an uncertainty Randall could see plain as day, and it made him sigh: In some ways, it seemed so unfair that these new families only have so little time to spend with the children before they went home...he understood, of course, but he hated to see the little ones so disappointed at the prospect of these new faces disappearing as quickly as they had appeared.

Still, Randall tried to put on a brave face for the pair, reassuring them, "I'm sure that they will. I don't think they'd miss it for the world."

[lolhive]

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[neontaxidermy]

I have the best drag idea I've ever had

[churchofsatannews]

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[just-a-ghost00]

Channeled messages from your divine counterpart's higher self.

Images were found on Pinterest. In this reading, I have used several oracles, including one I made myself. This oracle provides us with songs that may hold significant messages for us. You may want to listen to the songs as you are reading the channeled messages or add them to your playlist.

Group 1

Songs : Sweater weather - The Neighbourhood, MIA - Bad Bunny feat Drake, Find me - SIGMA feat Birdy Merlin oracle :

Everything is fine. Don't worry.

Guinevra Queen of Arthur - There is no king without a queen : you need both feminine and masculine. Combine your thinking, your sensitivity and creativity to your decision making skills and your actions. It is in this fair and balanced union that fruitful projects are birthed.

The power of mischief - Laugh, laugh and laugh : If life is being tricky, laugh with it. If it is burlesque, make fun of it. If it is cynical, fuck with it. Facing it's provoking, remember that the more time goes by, the less it will matter. So laugh it off!

Cavansite - Expand your consciousness. Tourmalined quartz - Restore your perfect light. Copper - Energize your whole world. Spirit animals : Arctic fox, black cat, white shark Key words : being your true self, leaving behind old beliefs, noticing the toxic patterns in and around you, spirituality, intuition, mystery, Bangchan stan

I know you are trying to reach me. I can feel you in the air I breathe, on the tip of my tongue whenever I wake up from a (wet) dream. I know you wish to find me sooner than later. That you long for me as much as I long for you. But the universe has other plans. And I'm too busy anyway. I know it's a harsh thing to say considering all the love you have for me. Believe me, I couldn't be any happier to have you as my forever after. My partner in crime. But right now isn't the time. I have so much left to do. So many things to cleanse and dust off. I cannot hold space for you, no matter how much I wish you were in my life. Yes, it's painful. Yes, I think about us every day. Yes, I want you more than anything in the world. But there are surely more interesting things for you to do than to worry about my whereabouts and my well being. I don't want you to lose sleep over me. I don't want you to deprive yourself of good times, opportunities, love for me. I want you to live. To experiment. To have fun. I want you to be the soul everyone talks about. The heart of the party. The sunshine that doesn't need anyone to radiate their light. I don't want you to wait for me in vain. I don't want to be a burden to you. I know deep in my soul that if we both give our best and be present for the things and people that matter to us, that if we both deliver then surely our paths will cross. I know deep in my heart that all paths lead to you. And I want you to believe that too. There is no such thing as making the wrong turn. So please don't reject anyone or anything just because you think I wouldn't like it. Live your life. Speak your truth. Be you. And love yourself just as much as I love you. Talk to you later. *sends spiritual hug*

Group 2

Songs : At my worst - Pink Sweats, Life goes on - AGUSTD, 3:00 AM - Finding Hope Spirit animals : Scarab, Scorpio, Dragon

Serpentine - Awaken your reptilian nature. Celestite - Tune in to your serenity. Kunzite - Open up your love channel.

Merlin oracle :

Once upon a time, Merlin - Raise your potential : You were born with considerable internal resources. Honor the gifts that were passed down to you. Raise your potential and embrace from now on what you were destined to be. You have all that is needed to succeed!

King Uther Pendragon - Serve what is dear to your heart : if you have rights, you also have duties. By honoring them, you will earn respect and love from those whom you hold dear. Ask yourself what you duties are in this situation and you shall know what to do.

Pixies spell - Let go : If you're feeling lost, discover new horizons. Keep your mind busy with light occupations to ward off worries. Letting go is the best way to find your way back.

The round table - There is no Grand or Little man : you are as respectable, capable, important as any other being. You are important to the fates that intertwine to create new stories. Dare to act, express, fight for and honor. Show what you are made of.

Keywords : Seonghwa stan, animal crossing, showing your true colors, arthurian legends, mythology nerd, heaven on earth

This time again I had a dream. A dream where someone or something took you away from me. When I looked deeper, I saw my reflection in the eyes of the beast. And I understood that the only thing keeping me away from you was myself. I am scared to death. Scared that you won't love me for who I am. I'm afraid that my anger and my fire will burn you. I am not an easy person to be with. More than once, I have disappointed people around me. I disappointed myself. I'm afraid that I can't make you happy and give you the love and respect you deserve. You are like royalty. And I feel like a mere peasant. I'm afraid I have nothing much to bring to the table. I fear that I will dim your light instead of protecting and enhancing it. All kings have a queen. But if I'm a peasant, how could I ever dream to stand by your side? How could I ever raise to your level? I feel like there are worlds between us and terrible beasts to be slain before I can ever get to you. The journey ahead seems frightening. And I don't know where it will lead. If the path were to take me through hell only to make me lose you, I would never be able to forgive myself. I would never recover. So please, don't break my heart. And if you can, save yourself. Don't burn your wings trying to get me out of the well I fell in. Promise?

Group 3

Songs : My Power - Beyoncé, Comflex - Stray Kids, Don't go yet - Camilla Cabello Spirit animals : arctic fox, sea turtle, scorpion

Jet - Claim your space. Bismuth - Rewrite your code with rainbows. Sodalite - Deepen your intuition.

Keywords : Changbin and LeeKnow stans, self worth, body image issues, speaking your truth, destiny, intensity, blues, mental wellness, Blue Monday, Jutdae, Black Panther

Merlin oracle :

Arthur's fate - Be the hero of your own destiny.

The power of authenticity - Go beyond appearances.

The power of mischief - Laugh, laugh and laugh!

I feel so lucky to have you in my life. When I think of you, my heart lightens up because I know how special you are. You bow to no one and yet, somehow, you chose to let me in. You chose to trust me when no one would. To believe in me when all abandoned me. Surely, you must be a wizard or some deity. An angel maybe. Because never would I have ever thought that someone would care about me so deeply. I have never met someone like you. Someone so brave and powerful, so loving and kind, generous, fierce and loyal to a fault. I'm so addicted to you. In your energy, I feel safe and protected. I'm usually the kind to appear strong and fight for the people I love. But with you, I feel like I can be myself and let my guards down. With you, I know I will never be judged. I know I can be vulnerable without fearing that you'll stab me in the back. People have done that to me before, you know? But I know you would never. I trust you with my life. I can't wait to meet you. Where you at? What you up to? Do you miss me? Cause I sure as hell do. I want you all to myself. I know you are my destiny. Let's have fun together, shall we? I love you to the moon and back. Don't you dare forget me! Oh and no matter what you think, you are amazing. Don't let people bring you down, sunshine.

[esotericpluto]

the ideal career for you

from left to right; intuitively choose the pile you feel more connected to. To make it easier, you can take a deep breathe, close your eyes and ask for guidance to your deities or guides. These are all general messages, so just take what resonates and leave what doesn't. This reading is timeless. If it resonates, feedback is always appreciated and motivates to keep doing pick a card readings. You can donate here.

divider: @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

pile 1

the moon, 7 of wands, ten of cups

this pile includes 18+ themes, so please skip over it if you are under 18. You can pick other pile.

with this pile, I'm getting a lot of possible careers coming through. I feel like many of you might end up working in careers that require you to work at night or until night. However, I do also see that some type of fame and recognition is very possible here and that you will keep this air of mystery, regardless of how famous and known you are. Some people reading this pile might even have more than one career from these options throughout their lives or even change it up a bit later on in life when you are more stable, looking forward to the field that truly makes you happy and fulfilled.

Now, some of you this indicates jobs in public eye. Some of you will be entertainers and bring joy to others. This can mean being an actor, singer, artist, musician, a comedian, a dancer or even could mean being an illusionist, working at the circus or at the entertainment part of hotels and touristic areas.

This might be especially true if you have leo and 9th house placements, if you love to sing, if you like to dye your hair or paint your nails. It might also resonate if your initials are C, K or M. Some of you who like to wear bold eyeliners can also resonate with this.

For some of you, I feel like you might end up becoming strippers (and yes this includes some men reading this) and get even some popularity from this. While this is sex work, keep in mind it still is counted as entertainment by many. Alternatively, you could go into burlesque/cabaret or similar things. Later on, for some of you, I do see a career change into something new you'll fall in love with but this will keep you afloat for a long time and many of you will enjoy it, especially due to the money. Others will make enough money to retire early or even leave early and just invest and live life. Now please, keep in mind that for those of you in this field, it is important for you to keep yourself safe and work in regulated spaces.

This could especially resonate for you if you have a couple tattoos, that know how to belly dance, that like smoothies, that have curly hair, that wear glasses/contacts, that love working out or go on shopping sprees. If you have a tongue piercing, it could also be a sign it resonates. Extra confirmation of any of you are aquarius, leo or virgo, especially with moon in scorpio or moon in capricorn.

Alternatively, some of you could end up working as dj's at clubs, bartenders or even bodyguards. This seems like it will actually help you meet a lot of people, make connections and network. I see some people even managing or owning nightclubs/bars later in life. The same could go for motels/hotels, although the sexual theme is being compelled here, so I think a motel seems somewhat likely for those of you this resonates with.

I feel like for some of you, you might become teachers/professors who give night lectures at universities or even to bigger audiences in important conferences. I feel like your input in your field will be extremely important. For those who will follow this teaching path, I feel like you will either be a political science, sociology, sexology or arts/entertainment teacher. And some of you could even end up having some minor career in politicians (like being a deputy/congress person in a parliament).

I feel like this one can apply for everyone in this group, so there is a chance any of you do end up doing this later in life out of passion.

For those of you thinking of going into investing into property or in general, I feel like this will go extremely well for you. Again you might invest in nightclubs/motels like i mentioned or even in rehabilitating older houses in usually less appealing neighborhoods, giving it a new life and appreciation and increasing thr value and safety of the area. If you want to invest in stocks instead, definitely invest in things related to the topics above. For some of you, I heard "invest in HIV research" so pick medicine companies that are working on researching it and creating cures/treatments. I'm also getting a special warning to not invest into crypto/nfts if you pick this pile.

pile 2

7 of pentacles; Tower; 3 of wands; Queen of Cups

I'm getting that some of you might get a career that has a long path to go through and that might include having a lot of patience. I feel like this could indicate some of you will have to study a lot and spend years and thousands on education to get this career, which leads me to think some of you are becoming doctors or medical practitioners. Alternatively, you could be in a career that will require you to start with low paying entry level jobs, but that will take you to the top positions that will be extremely well paid. I see that for some, this could also indicate having to go through an unpaid or lowly paid internship in order to make your way into the field or being in a job that doesn't pay you well and overworks you before switching to a better one.

For some of you, this wait in order to collect the seeds of your labour can be literal as in becoming a gardener, a farmer or even similar jobs in agricultural management or even owning a flower shop. This could, in a few cases, also involve baking and cooking and all the time that can go into it.

There are a group of you that this wait refers to working on your psychic and intuitive abilities as well as on your spiritual knowledge to the point of mastery and make a career out of it.

Like I mentioned before, I do see many healers, doctors and medics coming out of this pile, psychologists, psychiatrists and therapists are also coming in strong. Some might also go into traditional medicine and hollistic practices, maybe even reiki, energy work or medical astrology. I see that checking your 12th house or pisces placements either on your solar chart or on your midheaven persona chart can help you confirm this information.

Those of you that are thinking about going into therapy and psychology are being recommended to look into specializing in anger management and conflict resolution, so possibly something like family and couple therapy.

There could also be some of you that create youtube channels/instagram pages to help others with your knowledge and tips.

A small percentage of you might end up becoming a military medic/doctor/nurse as well, specializing in helping wounded soldiers. On the same note, a military cook is also possible.

It is also very important to note for everyone who picked this pile that your career might cause you emotional overwhelm or pressure, so always be sure to protect your energy and not allow yourself to be too drained.

This strong energy also takes me to believe some of you will be writers or artists, which also makes sense for the time aspect of this reading, as making art or writing can be time consuming. Some of you could even become freelancers or start creative industry enterprises/businesses.

These are just extra confirmations, so if nothing of these signs match you, it doesn't mean the pile is wrong for you.

This could resonate especially if you've recently watched a documentary or movie touching on the subjects of oppression, if you're in university or if you have been to university and if you have ever worked a waiter/public service job. If you enjoy stuff like Silent Hill and Red Dead Redemption, this could also resonate with you. Same if you like purple and blue or are wearing either. Extra confirmation if you're a taurus, gemini, aries or capricorn. Also if you specifically have a libra venus in either tropical or vedic.

pile 3

Lovers, Death, Star, Tower, Four of Pentacles

This pile has a brief mention of de*th and s**cide, so if you're very sensitive to those topics, please avoid this pile.

With the number of major arcanas here, I feel like whatever career you end up picking, you will have an important role in the area and maybe do something very groundbreaking in it. You'll be essential in your job/career and could even change the world in a way with it. No matter how small of a change it is, it will still be impactful.

The career will involve other people or at least one more person to some degree, this could be either a business/work partner or work involving clients or the public.

I'm getting two main groups here. One group will be focusing on healing and some type of therapy, especifically involving death. So this could be councilling focused on helping disaster survivors or grief therapy to help people who lost their loved ones or witnessed traumatic deaths. You will essentially be very important to help them move on and find themselves again. Because the Star can be related to peace, being true to one self and healing, you will definitely help people heal and find their peace and meaning in life again. For some of you, you could also help people who attempted suicide or have suicidal tendencies, helping them to work through this. You will help people who have lost everything and you'll help them rebuild their lives back up with healthier and better foundations, allowing them to feel more secure and in control of themselves and their lives.

For the other group, I feel like your work will be focusing more on creative industries. This could be publishing and marketing for some, however I feel like many of you will embark on music and acting careers, which will help many people also heal and have healthy coping mechanisms.

I feel like your music or your acting (mainly acting) will allow you to become separate from yourself for a moment by wearing another persona and putting yourself in someone else's shoes, but also will allow you to explore different aspects of yourself, giving you a deeper understanding of yourself and others. For some, this could be a musical theatre career. If not, you could become a music composer for movies and shows or even a music producer.

I'm also seeing some of you will be a play writer or a movie writer/director. I feel like there might be moments of your career you won't feel as valued, but rest assured there will be millions loving your work. You might also have extremely innovative ideas for the field and do things, create storylines no one has ever really seen before. You could even create a new genre of cinema or a new wave/style of film.

For a smaller percentage of you, I'm also seeing that you might be doing something money/management related, so an investor or establishing a new business/company that might help people around the world.

Extra confirmation if you like rock n' roll or watched an Elvis Presley movie/documentary or read a tweet about him recently. If you consume true crime, especially from the 80's, if you enjoy the aesthetic of the circus. It might also resonate if you listen to Britney and/or Mariah or if your favorite color is red. If you like high heels, especially louboutins, or enjoy using red/dark lipsticks, or shaved your legs in the previous 3 days, this is also extra confirmation for you. Could also apply if you're a scorpio, sagittarius or pisces.

[writingoddess1125]

I am your Biggest Fan~

This was written while drunk-ly watching the new OPLA! If people like this I can make a Pt. 2 that gets SPICY ENJOY!

Part 2: Biggest Fan Pt. 2

Buggy The Clown x GN Reader

Warnings: Tsundare Buggy, Mild Kidnapping, almost noncon, Pirate stuff-

Buggy and his Crew had landed on a small island far away from any post or true fun- in most cases he would have raided the place for a show- However he was in no mood. After being released by the damn Strawhats he wasn't in much of a performing mood- No.. Him and his crew of Freaks where utterly beaten by a bunch of nobodies and then their Capitan was taken hostage by Arlong, It was humiliating. They all needed to recoup and lick their wounds as well as a fluff to the Ego- So here they all sat, in a dinky bar that looked a few strong wind gust away from falling apart.

Buggy glared at the old stage of the Bar- like it was mocking him. His anger still not coming down from his escape. Downing his pint he sighed and fixed his hat, ignoring the stares as of the few Locals that worked up the nerve to glance his and his crews way. He was disguised in a old cloak in order to keep people from recognizing him too much and making a fuss-

"Welcome to the Green Fuzz! We have a special performer tonight!" A skinny man announced from the stage, snapping Buggy from his pouting as he rolled his eyes. Drinking more as he now wanted to leave..

"A world famous Burlesque dancer will leave you stunned, smiling and oh so saucy-!"

Bleh. Buggy thought, glancing to see where the closest exit was.

"Now put your hands together for (Y/N)~"

The curtains opened slowly revealing a lone person standing there dressed in what could only be described as a mock-doll get up satin ribbons barely holding up the corset they were in and the thin lace tulle barely hiding the revealing thong underneath, Their back facing the audience as the music started up. They spun as a flurry of thin lace wrapped around them like colorful flames barely concealing their body. Hips started to pop to the beat of the drums as (Y/N) smiled and danced forward. Buggy whole body froze like he was hypnotized, his eyes never leaving their form- How their body curved in the corset and how their hips jiggled and shook with each turn. The way their flashy makeup caught the light making them look like a true star. The too tall heels clicking with the beat as they did amazing jaw dropping moves and even slipping into a deep split, shaking their ass a little at the audience as they sauntered up once again.

People starting to clap to the beat as they watched them dance, Sinking along to the music as the performer pulled at the laces of their corset. Rocking their hips to the beat before with a flashy pose shed the corset and tossed it to the side, showing the dazzling tassel pasties on their chest which shook and twirled brilliantly.

Buggy left like his lungs were burning, his eyes glued to the performer and a uncomforble tightening of his trousers not helping either. It was almost ridiculous, the flashy dances and explicit comical manner just hit his brain right in every way. The crowd laughed, clapped and sang along with them and Buggy just watched- His eyes never leaving them for a second.

By the time the show ended Buggy felt like he was salivating, He didn't even care that his crew was genuinely clapping for someone else- He had his eyes on his prey and he wasn't planning on letting it go. He grabbed Cabaji hard by his collar and brought him close. A crazed grin spread on his lips.

"Ready the crew- We're taking this village after all.. I'm going after my New favorite act-"

(Y/N) sat back stage in their changing room, smiling as they took a seat at the vanity to start taking off the makeup of the night. The show had been going off without a hitch, as most nights. While they did travel to different villages for shows their favorite was these small places. While the pay wasn't anything grand it was the few people that did attend and the staff that hosted them. They were always the nicest and appreciated burlesque the most. (Y/N) started to take off the blue rhinestone earrings, Their was quite a lot of people for such a small town- That and there was a man in a cloak.. While their face wasn't shown his eyes- they stared at them so intently. Almost sent a chill up their spine.

Then a knock snapped them from their thoughts. Assuming it was one of the staff.

"Oh- Im still getting undressed just a bit longer please!" They called out. Quickly grabbing the makeup wipes to start, but froze as the sound of heavy footsteps sounded, a shadowy cloaked figure now in their doorway. Whipping around they stared in fear-

"H-How did you?" (Y/N) started as they stood up, their fingers hovering over a robe to at least cover themselves up- However they instead left something.. Fleshy? Looking down a severed hand holding the robe before waving at them. Opening their mouth to scream but the floating hand slammed into their lips sealing it from the scream.

The cloaked man laughed loudly at this, Pulling away his cloak as Buggy slowed to a chuckling at this as he stepped forward, tapping his boots mildly as he walked in further and closing the door behind him.

"I gotta say, That was a absouely ravenous performance. Almost as good as myself~"

He stepped closer, now inches from (Y/N) who was trembling standing there with the hand still tightly over their lips. Taking his free hand he carefully ran it up their form, Playing with the tassels of their costume. Tilting his head in delight as his eyes ranked their body- Not even bothering to hide his own arousal.

The muffled sounds of Buggy's crew starting to pillage the small village, screams of terror and crashing adding a eerie ambiance to the small room. (Y/N) trembled from his touch and the sound of the poor village being ripped apart.

"Usually I love being on stage, the people clapping and loving me. watching us in delight. I never am in someone else audience or a fan of someone else in the spotlight-"

He removed his hand from their lips, Smiling at the smeared makeup on their face. He practically moaned at the sight. He couldn't wait to see their mascara running down their face and lips bruised with what he was gonna do to them- He started to pull at what was left from their costume, feeling them trying to resist and even attempt to grab his wrist to stop.

Chuckling at the pathetic act he slapped their hands away from what he wanted- Ripping away the dazzling chest pasty on their chest savoring the pained cry that left them and how red their poor nipple looked.

"But for you,"

Buggy grinned widely, his watercolor eyes seemed to darken with lust as he reached forward and slammed his palms hard on the back wall on either side of (Y/N) head, Trapping them with no way to escape. A Rush of emotions flooded over (Y/N) and they had to lean back for support to keep from falling to their knees in fear. The smell of citrus, candy and sea air flooded their lungs as Buggy leaned in leaving a trail of love bites up their neck to their ear as he whispered.

"Im your biggest fan~"

[theheadlessgroom]

@beatingheart-bride

"It's an old Pratt family recipe," Josephine explained, saying, "My family used to make it for farmer's markets when I was younger, we used to sell it by the bagful; it was always very popular, so we oftentimes sold out very quickly. It's been a long time since I made it, so it felt good to get back in the kitchen and make a batch-especially with two great little helpers."

"We helped!" Lon declared proudly through a mouthful of popcorn, and even Erika smiled a little and nodded-it had actually been really fun, helping Grandma Josephine out. It was a lot like being in the kitchen with Grandma June, and that helped Erika feel a little more at ease about pitching in.

And watching her favorite movie also helped her feel a little more comfortable being around these new family members, admittedly, able to forget about her anxieties in favor of colorful animation and wonderful music, with the hot, sweet kettle corn being an additional bonus. Laying on her stomach watching the movie, Erika felt more content than she had the day before, and smiled as she relaxed. Maybe this visit wouldn't be so bad after all!

Meanwhile, Lon, sitting up beside his sister, was still trying to figure out what this "burlesque" was that his family kept talking about-it involved dancing, performing, but the specifics he couldn't quite figure out. When Esmeralda began her dance at the Feast of Fools, Lon turned back to ask his great-grandmother curiously, "Is that burlesque?"

"Ah, not quite," Josephine chuckled amusedly, though she could see some similarities there, between herself and La Esmeralda: Performing flirtatious, provocative dances for an appreciative audience (with some disapproving figures in the crowd as well), being looked down on because of it, but still remaining kind despite all that? Yes, that all sounded rather familiar to her...

[multi-fandom-things730]

Welcome to Burlesque

Summary: Y/N is a burlesque dancer who works at Taz’s club. She and his son Hook start developing feelings for each other as they navigate the complicated world of organized crime.

Warnings: mob au, guns, blood, injuries, fighting, cussing, violence, angst, fluff, Jack being a little traitor, club environment, burlesque club, creepy man not taking a hint, drinking

A/N: should I have been writing a speech for college today? Yes. Did I? No. I wrote this💀😂 this burlesque idea is a little thing I came up with while listening to the burlesque movie’s soundtrack😂 and I thought it would be something fun to combine with a mob au. There will be a part 2 to this, and I hope you all enjoy!!!!! 🤍And thank you as always to @99hook for helping me brainstorm and come up with different little ideas for this fic💛💛✨

Working at Taz's burlesque club was a dream come true to Y/N.

Was it a little bit shady? Yes.

Was she aware of the business the Senerchia family was in? It wasn't very hard to figure out being in the club as often as she was.

But did she care? She probably should have a lot more than she did. But she couldn't bring herself to.

Taz was undoubtedly one of the kindest men she'd ever met; at least to her anyway.

Maybe not to everyone else, but being one of the club’s most popular dancers had its perks.

The two ended up spending a lot of time together, as she performed almost every night. And Taz preferred conducting his business at the burlesque club to anywhere else.

He knew it was safe, and there were back rooms disguised as extra dressing rooms he used when business had to get a little messy.

Y/N knew it wasn't the most conventional dream to have, but she had wanted to be a burlesque dancer for years.

When Taz bought the business from the previous owner, Y/N watched as many of her coworkers left when they realized who their new owner really was.

She knew she probably should have gone with them, but she just wasn't willing to give up on her job.

She loved the club so much; she couldn't imagine working anywhere else.

And it may have also had a tiny bit to do with Taz's handsome son.

Y/N and Hook both remembered the first night they met vividly, and they knew they wouldn't be forgetting anytime soon.

Hook was sitting in a private booth in the corner next to his dad at the burlesque club.

Taz had bought it a few months ago, but he hadn't bothered to come by until tonight.

His dad was dealing with a customer who had put his hands on one of the dancers here, and wanted his men there to help him 'take care' of the problem.

Say what you wanted about Taz, but he and his people did not take that lightly.

The man showed up every Friday night, so they watched the performance while waiting for him to show his face.

Hook was itching for him to show up, ready to beat the disrespect out of the man's body.

But his mind was pulled away from the soon-to-come beat down when a song he vaguely recognized started playing.

It was an older song, but he couldn't quite put his finger on the name.

But when the curtains reopen, Taz laughs when he sees his son's eyes widen and he inhales sharply.

"That's Y/N" Taz informs with a smirk. "She's the most popular dancer here"

"She.. she's gorgeous" Hook mumbles.

Taz laughs and claps Hook on the shoulder. "Don't go getting too distracted, we have business to take care of tonight"

Hook clears his throat and nods, but his eyes quickly trail back to the woman on the stage.

His eyes scanned up and down her body as she sensuously moved across the stage, and her melodic voice floated around the room.

He was so enthralled by her that he didn't even notice when his father's men started shifting around the room.

It wasn't until Taz nudged his side that he snapped out of the trance Y/N had lulled him into.

Later that night, Y/N was sitting at the bar with a drink in her hand.

Her eyes stayed on the stage, watching her friends perform with a smile across her red lips.

"I recognized the first song you sang"

She spins around in her seat, and smiles at the handsome man who had spoken to her. "Yeah? Did you like it?"

"Mhm" he nods, and slides into the empty seat next to her. "But I can't remember the name of it"

"A guy what takes his time. Originally sung by Mae West" Y/N informs.

"You a big fan of her?" Hook asks.

"Very much so" Y/N replies with a grin. "She's such an icon"

"I have to admit, I'm unsure of who she is" Hook says with a sheepish grin.

"She's only one of the most famous sex symbols ever" Y/N says with a giggle. "She even was the first to say the quote 'Why don't you come up sometime and see me?' Rather scandalous for 1933"

"Extremely" Hook concurs with a chuckle, before sticking his hand out. "I'm Hook, but you can call me Tyler"

Y/N was caught off guard by that. Of course she knew who Hook was, but she had heard how he didn't let many people call him Tyler. She even heard a few stories of him beating people up who disrespected him by calling him his real name.

But weirdly, it caused butterflies in her stomach. She placed her hand into his and sent him a sweet smile. "I'm Y/N"

"It's a pleasure to meet you amore" He lifts her hand to place a kiss on her knuckles, and that combined with the Italian nickname had a bright blush flushing Y/N's cheeks.

"So" Y/N clears her throat before her face changes to a serious expression. "Is the problem taken care of?"

"What are you talking about?" Hook plays dumb, and if she wasn't already in the know she probably would have fallen for his charming smile.

"You know what I'm talking about" Y/N stares directly into his eyes, annoyance creeping into her gaze. "He comes here every Friday, and all the girls are scared. Taz told me it would be taken care of tonight. Was it not?"

Hook stares at her for a second, unsure of what to say. He couldn't believe she knew. Furthermore, he couldn't believe his dad was the one to tell her. And even further, why did she seem so fine with it?

Taz, who had been behind the bar checking inventory and eavesdropping on the two, decides to walk over and help his seemingly frozen son. "Good evening miele"

Y/N smiles at Taz, and leans over the bar to kiss his cheek. "Hello Taz. I was just asking Hook if the problem was dealt with, but for some reason he seems to be unable to answer me"

Taz chuckles. "Don't worry about him, he's not used to talking to such a vision. He was dealt with earlier tonight, during your performance actually"

Y/N chuckles. "Good"

"It's getting late, and you spend enough time in this club as is. Tyler, why don't you take Y/N home?" Taz proposes.

"No, that's okay. I don't want to impose" Y/N immediately replies.

"I don't mind at all" Hook finally speaks up. "I'd love to give you a ride"

"Then it's settled. Because there's no way I'm letting you walk home this late" Taz says sternly.

Y/N just smiles. "How'd you know I was walking today?"

"It's my job to be observant Y/N. And I heard you complaining about your car not starting" Taz answers. "So until that's fixed, you are getting a ride from someone. It's not safe to walk around here"

"Alright, just give me a few minutes to get my stuff" Y/N gives in. She stands from her seat and smiles up at Hook.

"Thanks Hoo.. Tyler" she corrects herself, and gives his arm a light squeeze as she walks by him.

Taz smirks over at his son, who is looking down at the bar in an attempt to hide his red cheeks. "Tyler? You just met her and she's already allowed to call you Tyler?"

Hook doesn't answer, which causes Taz to laugh.

"You know, she's a good girl. I think you would be good together" Taz says. 

"Really?" Hook asks softly, looking up at his dad.

"Mhm" Taz hums. "But she's not like those other girls you go out with. You can't flash her a smile and she immediately agrees to go out with you. You're gonna have to put some work in. And it better be good, or I won't let you"

Hook chuckles. "You're not gonna let me?"

"No" Taz immediately answers firmly.

Then Y/N walks out with her bag. "I'm ready to go"

Taz walks out from behind the bar and gives her a hug. "Have a good night Y/N"

"You too Taz" she smiles as they pull away.

Hook walks over and takes her bag from her.

"Thanks" she says, and Hook just nods before placing his hand on the small of her back to guide her out of the building.

That next morning Y/N woke up to a surprise.

Y/N furrows her eyebrows, and stops making her coffee when she hears noise coming from her driveway.

She quickly grabs a jacket before walking outside to see what was going on.

But a smile spreads across her lips when she sees Hook in her driveway messing with her car. "Good morning handsome"

He looks up and flashes her a sheepish smile with red cheeks from her compliment. "Did I wake you?"

"No, I was already up" She answers. "What are you doing?"

"Fixing your car" he says with a proud grin. "I already figured out what's wrong with it. The battery's dead"

"Is that bad?" Y/N asks, not knowing much about cars.

Hook shakes his head. "It's an easy fix. I'm gonna jump-start it and it should be good as new"

"Well, thank you so much" Y/N smiles. "You didn't have to do all this, but I really appreciate it"

"It's not a problem" Hook brushes it off. "I'm glad to help"

"Come inside when you're done. I’ll make breakfast"

And she did. The two talked and laughed the entire time.

It started becoming a routine for them to have breakfast together.

At first, Hook left after breakfast. But then he started staying a little later. Then he started staying for lunch too. And by the time he stayed for lunch, he may as well have stayed long enough to drive her to the club for her shift, right?

Taz couldn't be more excited watching the two of them walk in together every night, including tonight.

As usual, they walked in right at 5:00, making the most of every minute.

"One of these days you're gonna get here at 5:01, and you're gonna be the one in trouble Tyler" Taz jokes, making the two laugh.

"Don't worry Taz, I'll make sure I'm always here on time. I can't let my favorite Senerchia down" she laughs, and walks over to pat his arm.

Hook pouts, but his lips turn up when she pecks his cheek as she passes him on the way to the dressing rooms.

"How's it going son?" Taz asks once Y/N’s out of sight.

"I think it's going good" Hook answers. "I can tell she's hesitant though"

Taz nods. "Just be patient. She's used to men playing her, just keep showing her you aren't like that"

Later that night Hook was sitting in a booth with his best friend, Jack Perry.

He was standing up and applauding as Y/N left the stage, but not before blowing a kiss towards him.

He pretends to catch it before sitting back down next to a snickering Jack. "What?"

"Nothing" Jack raises his hands in surrender. "I can just tell that you really like her"

"Yeah" Hook mumbles. "But I don't know if she likes me like that"

"You told me you spend time together everyday" Jack replies.

"We do" Hook shrugs. "But whenever I try to kiss her or hold her hand, she always pulls away"

"She's probably just nervous bro" Jack pats Hook's shoulder. "I mean, with her job, she's probably had to deal with a lot of scumbags"

Hook nods. "I know. My dad said the same thing"

But before either of them can say anything else Skye, one of the other dancers, walks over to the table. "Hey Hook. I'm sorry to bother you, but there’s this guy at the bar messing with Y/N. He won't leave her alone, and she said she could handle it, but he's not stopping"

Hook immediately stands up, and scans the bar.

He spots Y/N almost immediately, and the guy next to her who is way too close for his liking.

"Thanks" he says gruffly to Skye before taking off towards Y/N, Jack following close behind.

Hook walks over, and places himself in the space between them. "Hey amore"

He can see the relief on her face as he gently pushes her to stand behind him. "Hi Ty"

She holds onto his arm as Hook stares the guy down.

"Excuse me, we were talking" the guy rudely says, clearly not knowing who he was dealing with.

"It's best if you'd leave man" Jack says from his place next to Hook in an attempt to diffuse the situation.

Y/N knew that if looks could kill, that man would already be six feet under from the glare Hook was sending him. So she pulls on his arm, indicating she wants to leave. And he almost does, until the guy opens his mouth again.

"I just said we were talking" The guy repeats.

"You were talking" Hook snaps, pulling away from Y/N to step closer to him. "She wasn't"

"Oh yeah?" The guy stands up, making both Jack and Hook tense up, clearly ready for a fight.

"You got a fucking problem?" Hook demands.

"Ty, Ty let's just go" Y/N says, grabbing onto his arm again. "Please?"

"Yeah, just go" the guy taunts, and Y/N's eyes widen when he pushes Hook.

Chaos happens so quickly after that. Hook immediately pushes him back, and then his fist connects with the guy's jaw.

Jack joins in, and holds the guy still while Hook rains punches down on him.

"Tyler! Tyler stop!" Y/N yells as the bouncers run over and pull the three men apart.

Y/N latches onto Hook's arm as the bouncers drag the guy out.

"Are you two okay?!" She exclaims, quickly scanning them for injuries.

"I'm all good" Jack says. "I'm gonna head out, that was enough excitement for me for one night"

But as Hook wrapped his arms around Y/N to comfort her, he didn't realize what was going through Jack's head. Unbeknownst to Hook, he had just revealed to Jack his weak point.

Y/N headed to work later than normal a few days later. She wasn't supposed to work that day, but Skye was sick and Y/N offered to take her shift.

Hook had some business his father needed him to deal with, so he wasn't there to drive her.

Y/N was headed into the club when it happened.

All of a sudden she was grabbed from behind. She kicked and screamed as loud as she could as the men attempted to drag her into the trunk of their car.

She managed to scratch the hand of the one holding her mouth, causing him to let out a pained yell and loosen his grip.

And with her mouth free she screamed for help; she screamed for Hook.

Anthony, who was one of Hook's friends and Taz's men, heard a scream from his place at the door and ran outside.

Once the men saw Anthony running towards them with his gun out, they dropped Y/N and scrambled to get back in the car.

Y/N let out a yell when she fell onto the pavement and hit her head.

She was in a daze as she just laid there on the ground, watching as the car sped off and blood landed on the ground, dripping from her head.

Anthony kneeled next to her and pulled her into his arms. "Y/N? Hey, you're okay now. I got you"

She curled into his chest as he pulled his phone out and called Taz.

Less than ten seconds later every one of Taz's men in the club came running out with instructions to find the people who did this.

Then Taz himself ran over and kneeled next to them. "Hey hon"

"Hi Taz" she mumbles, sending him a weak smile in an attempt to assure him that she was okay.

He smiled back and brushed some hair out of her face. "You're gonna be just fine miele"

Anthony picks her up and carries her to Taz's car. He lays her down in the backseat before sliding in next to her.

Y/N was still a bit in and out as Anthony pressed a cloth against her bleeding head, but she heard Taz call Hook.

"Son, something's happened at the club"

"What do you mean? Are you and Y/N okay?" Hook asks urgently.

"Yes, we're all alright. But Y/N was hurt, son"

It was silent for a moment, but Y/N heard when Hook's breathing started getting heavier. "What happened?"

Y/N knew that tone. It was calm, too calm. She knew that he was furious, and it worried her that he would go out and try to find the people.

"I want you to come to the house before I tell you all the details"

"Why?!" Hook immediately snaps.

"Because I know you son" Taz replies firmly. "And the minute I give you any details you're going to go out and try to do something"

"Of course I am! Someone hurt Y/N! I am gonna hunt them dow-“

"I am not telling you a damn thing until you're at the house and that's final. Y/N will be there" Taz says with finality before hanging up the phone.

When Taz pulled into the driveway, Y/N was surprised. "You brought me to your house? I thought only the inside circle knows where you live"

But Taz just turns to smile at her. "That's right"

Y/N smiles after that, before sitting up with Anthony's help.

"Don't get ahead of yourself Y/N" Anthony says.

She just nods, and lets him pick her back up and carry her inside.

"Lay her down in the living room, I've got the doctor coming over" Taz tells Anthony, who nods and does as told.

Y/N thanks Anthony after he sits her on the couch, and he smiles and nods in return.

She looks around the room, and her eyes stop on a picture perched on the mantle. It was Hook and his dad when Hook was little. A smile grew on her lips as she stared at the photo.

"I love that picture too" Taz says as he walks into the room with a cup of water.

She thanks him for it as he sits down next to her.

"He hasn't been that carefree in a long time. I suppose that's my fault. Dragging him into this life" Taz sighs.

"No, I don't think it's your fault. He's told me how much he wants to be a part of it. I don't think you could have done anything to stop him" Y/N replies with a sympathetic smile.

Taz nods. "Thanks, hon"

It's then the door swings open and hurried footsteps echo through the house. "Y/N?!"

Y/N winces at his loud yell, and Taz stands up to meet Hook in the doorway. "Hey, her head is still hurting. No yelling, and be gentle with her"

Hook frantically nods before running over to her.

He kneeled in front of her and cupped her face between his warm hands.

Y/N leaned into his palm and closed her eyes. "I'm okay. Don't worry"

"You're not okay" Hook breathes out. "You don't have to lie"

"I'm okay now" she insists. "You're here now. I know nothing can happen to me"

Hook's lips turn upwards slightly, before he reaches up to pull her into a hug. "I was so worried"

"Don't be. I'm tough" Y/N replies.

Hook pulls away to press his forehead against hers. "Yes you are. My strong girl"

The two smile at each other, and sit like that for a moment. Hook was so thankful to be able to sit there and listen to her breathing while holding tightly onto her hands, reassuring him that she was okay.

Then Taz walks in with the doctor.

Hook sat next to her as the doctor cleaned up her cuts, and held her hand the entire time.

Meanwhile, out in the hallway, Taz was talking to his right-hand man; Tony Schiavone.

"I wanna find the people who did this" Taz says in a dangerous tone. "I want them found and brought to me; alive. Understood?"

"Yes" Schiavone nods. "Out of curiosity, what do you plan to do to them?"

Taz just smirks. "I think I'll let Tyler decide that"

Y/N woke up the next morning with a very sore body.

Every time she moved pain shot through her, and she had a terrible headache.

She slowly pulled herself into a sitting position, and took a second to brace herself before sliding off of the bed.

She looked to the bedside table for her phone, and smiles when she sees more than just the phone. There was medicine, a cup of water, a little bag of her favorite chips, and one of Hook's hoodies folded up.

She reached over and slipped on the hoodie, taking a moment to savor the smell of Hook's cologne that now swirled around her, before taking the medicine. Then she got out from under the extremely cozy blankets and left the bedroom.

She went to the bathroom and brushed her teeth and hair before venturing out into the hallways.

She felt a little awkward making her way around the Senerchia house- well, more like mansion. She was a guest and didn't know her way around very well, but she was really hungry.

She let out a quiet cheer when she found the kitchen, and walked over to the fridge and pantry to see what they had. Y/N pulled out the ingredients to make pancakes, bacon, and eggs. She knew Hook would probably freak out over her cooking after just being injured, but she wanted to do something nice for them.

For absolutely no reason, the Senerchia's had taken her in and accepted her as family. Taz had done so long before she ever even met Hook.

Many people would be angry that they had been attacked because of the Senerchia family, but Y/N wasn't. She knew the lifestyle they lived, and she made a choice to be in their lives anyway. She just wished Hook realized that too. Y/N knew Hook would beat himself up about it for months to come.

As everything was cooking, Y/N was trying to figure out how their coffee machine worked. But she was stumped.

"Something smells amazing" she turns around and smiles when Taz walks into the kitchen.

"Thank you. I hope you don't mind, I just wanted to do something nice for y'all" Y/N says.

"I appreciate it" Taz smiles back.

"I was trying to make you guys coffee too, but I can't figure out this machine" she laughs, making Taz laugh too.

"You've done more than enough this morning" Taz walks over to the pot and takes it from her hands. "Let me make the coffee at least"

"What a great team we make" Y/N grins, before heading back over to the stove.

"I assume you're feeling better this morning?" Taz asks.

"I don't feel great, but definitely better than last night" Y/N answers. "Got a splitting headache though"

"That'll clear up in a few days" Taz comforts.

Y/N nods. "Thank you for taking care of me last night"

"Hey, you're one of us now" Taz says. "You will be protected from here until forever"

Y/N couldn’t stop the bright smile that took over her face, until the next words that come from Taz. "Unless you decide you don't wanna be part of this life of course"

"What are you talking about?" Y/N immediately asks.

"I'm not gonna lie to you Y/N, most people don't make it long-term in this world. The danger, the not knowing if someone will make it back home, the threat of the cops, it's not an easy life to live. And I know Tyler hasn't asked you to officially be his girl yet, but I know he wants to. And when he does, I just want to make sure you know that you have options. This incident.. I can't guarantee it, or something worse, won't happen again. I wish I could but I can't. You know we're gonna do everything we can to make sure no one lays a pinky finger on you ever again, but.. if it all becomes too much for you, I need you to know that I can get you out. I can send you away, somewhere even Tyler won't know. You can get a fresh start away from all of this"

Y/N stares at Taz for a moment, letting his words settle, before she smiles softly. "Thank you so much Taz, but I won't be needing any of that. Ever. I'm here for the long haul as long as Tyler will have me"

Taz just smiles back, incredibly happy to have Y/N as a part of their family.

Now all he needed was for Hook to man up and confess his feelings to Y/N.

Taz knew he was scared; scared of the danger it would put Y/N in. But it seemed that the danger was already present. And seeing it first hand had shaken Hook. The original plan that night was for Hook to finally ask Y/N to be his girl. They told Y/N that Hook had something Taz needed him to do; when really he was out getting some gifts for her. He had dinner reservations at her favorite restaurant, and he was going to pick her up from the club early and take her out. But of course, the night did not end the way Hook had hoped.

Then Hook walks into the kitchen, and his eyes widen when he sees Y/N cooking. "Y/N! You don't need to be cooking, you need to be resting!"

Y/N just laughs as he puts his hands on her arms and guides her to sit down at the kitchen island. "I'm feeling okay Ty"

"No, you need to rest amore" Hook says, and leans down to kiss her on the forehead before taking her place at the stove.

Jack sighed from his seat at the burlesque club.

He watched as Y/N performed, the gears in his head turning rapidly.

His plan to kidnap her had failed, and he was actually kind of glad about it.

He had realized since that night a few things. And the biggest one was that Y/N is fiercely loyal to Hook and his family. Even after almost getting abducted she stuck by his side, perhaps closer than ever.

He realized if his plan had worked, she wouldn't have told him shit about Taz's operations.

Jack couldn't ask Hook; they were friends, but he'd realize what was up if Jack started poking around.

But anyone who was an enemy of the Senerchia may kidnap Hook's girl to try and get information to take them down.

But Y/N wouldn't crack, Jack was now sure of it.

So he decided on a new plan:

Psychological warfare.

He didn't need to take Y/N from Hook, he was gonna make her want to leave.

[gurugirl]

The Amateur | part 2 preview

sugardaddy!ceo!harry x burlesque!dancer!yn

New Patreon exclusive short series preview! Part 1 out now on Patreon! Part 2 to be posted January 2.

Series Summary: Y/n is a down-on-her-luck burlesque dancer sleeping in her car. Harry is a wealthy CEO looking for someone to spoil.

Preview Word Count: 2.3k

Part 1 Preview

Note: This has not been very proofread or edited - there may be some changes with the final version.

At nearly 7 pm she heard the door open and she heard Harry’s voice so she quickly went toward the foyer to see Harry entering. And Veronica.

Oh.

Y/n sheepishly waved and then looked toward the kitchen and back at the pair.

“Hey. Veronica needed to drop by to pick up something. Apparently, she left an earring here?” He said as he turned to look at the gorgeous vixen standing next to him.

She smirked and nodded as she looked Y/n up and down, “That’s right. Somehow I made it home with one of them but the other is missing. I’m assuming it was knocked out of my ear. That was kind of a wild night…” she laughed and Harry frowned as he looked at Y/n.

Pity.

Y/n tucked her lips into her mouth and nodded. She turned back to walk into the kitchen. She was feeling so dumb. So dumb for thinking she could do something nice for a man who didn’t want anything from her. So dumb for trying to make it up to him in any way when he simply didn’t care. He had Veronica, or his pick really. He was wealthy and handsome and he didn’t need Y/n. She was just a victim he felt pity for.

She took a deep breath and sat at the marble island on a stool. She wasn’t going to cry. But she felt an unease in her body about the situation that she hadn’t felt before. Yes, she was a bit jealous but it was more than that. She felt dumb. She felt like she’d gotten her hopes up somehow. She’d grown too attached.

Harry never did anything to indicate he was interested. Not once. He had only treated her with kindness and patience. How could she mistake it for anything but pity?

She jumped when she felt a large hand rubbing over her back. She looked up at Harry who was standing behind her, looking down at her with soft eyes.

Pity.

“Sorry. She wanted to come last week but I told her she needed to wait. I figured you’re feeling a bit better today. She’s been bugging me about this earring…”

Y/n waved him off, “It’s fine. No need to be sorry. It’s your house, Harry.”

And that was true. No matter the circumstances, Harry hadn’t done anything wrong. It was Y/n who’d let his kindness morph into some kind of deeper meaning. Something she let manifest physically in the bathroom during her bath when she let her fingers wander the day before. She’d been pent up. She needed a release and Harry was attractive and sweet and he’d smiled at her especially warmly that morning.

But now, she was feeling small. And stupid.

“Harry!” Veronica’s voice sang out.

Harry sighed and kept his hand on Y/n’s back as he leaned down next to her, “I’m gonna help her. She’ll be out of here soon. Okay?”

Y/n just smiled and shrugged. Didn’t matter. The moment Harry walked out of the kitchen Y/n went into her bedroom and closed the door behind her. She put her hands onto her face and as soon as she pressed her palms over her skin she winced at the pain. She wasn’t swollen but her face was still tender. She cursed under her breath as she walked toward the large window to look out.

She needed to get it together. Soon she’d be healed and need to move on. Harry would probably be thankful for it too. She was lost in her thoughts when there was a knock at the door, causing her to jump.

Yeah, that was another thing that sucked. She was too jumpy these days.

“You made dinner. Gonna come eat with me?” Harry said softly.

Y/n turned and looked at the man in the door. He was so handsome. She would just never get over the way he looked at her. Having his eyes on her warmed her up but she had to be realistic. It was just that he was so attractive with alluring eyes. It made it seem there was something there that wasn’t. She had to stop kidding herself.

She nodded with a half-smile and walked toward him. She was a little hungry.

They both sat down to eat, “Did she find her earring?”

Harry chewed his mouthful and kept his eyes on his plate, “No. She didn’t. I don’t know if it’s actually here or not.”

“So, do you have her over often?” Y/n inquired. She wanted the hard truth. She wanted to know that Harry was off limits because in her imaginary world, he was her knight in shining armor and she was growing more and more attached to him.

Harry sat up and took a sip of the wine (turns out the wine was expensive but Harry insisted on having it anyway) before turning to look at Y/n, “She’s been here before. A couple of times.”

Y/n nodded and looked back to her plate of pasta with a sour stomach suddenly. She sat her fork down and nodded. It wasn’t her place to get jealous or upset.

She listened as Harry scraped his plate, scooping up the last bit of pasta. It was quiet.

Too quiet.

Harry cleared his throat, “I mean… I haven’t seen her since that night you saw us together. So that’s like, a month ago? Well, except when I went to the club a couple of times she was there. But that was the last time she was here, a month ago.”

Y/n turned to look at Harry, “So she was here before that? Then why did she want your card with your number on it?”

Harry breathed a laugh out of his nose, “She didn’t have my number before. I didn’t really want her to have it.”

“But you brought her here. You just didn’t want her to call you?” Y/n couldn’t help the questions coming out. She wanted Harry to tell her they were fucking and how he was in love with Veronica. She needed confirmation that he felt only pity for Y/n.

Harry sighed, “Yes. I brought her here. But, look, it was nothing. Not really. Just a warm body. That sounds really shitty…” he shook his head and kept his eyes soft on hers.

Y/n smiled and nodded as she got up to clear their plates. She knew it. They’d been fucking. Of course. They were a perfect match. Veronica with mile-long legs and silky smooth hair, luscious lips, perfectly shaped brows… And Harry was… well, he was Harry. A complete masterpiece of a man.

“Y/n… I… what do you want to know? I mean… I’m an open book here. Are you… jealous?” Harry was closer to her than she wanted him to be in that moment. Directly behind her.

Y/n paused and set the plates in the sink, “You think I’m jealous? God, Harry…” The disdain in her voice was clear. She was sick of being pitied.

Harry’s hands were on her shoulders and nudging her to turn gently toward him, “I don’t know. Your questions sounded… maybe you’re just curious. I shouldn’t have said that. Of course, you’re not jealous. You even told me you have a boyfriend so you wouldn’t…”

Y/n laughed and shook her head, “A boyfriend? No. We just haven’t officially broken up but he’s back home posting Snapchat pictures with random girls and he hasn’t even bothered to find out where I am or if I’m okay. He doesn’t even know I’m in Las Vegas. So boyfriend? Nah…” she huffed and shook her head.

Harry nodded. She did tell him most of that when they spoke about Chad. Just not the part where they weren’t still really together. Harry had a feeling that was the case but he didn’t want to ask her outright and seem nosy.

“Okay,” Harry kept his eyes on Y/n’s, or at least he tried as she was dodging looking directly at him, “just…” he sighed and shook his head, “I don’t want you to think I’m still doing anything with her, though. That was a couple of times. I told you I get lonely. We talked about it a little.”

And they had. Y/n knew Harry wasn’t a virgin by a long shot. Of course, he was getting it regularly. But he did always mention how it was just a physical thing. But he never mentioned he was doing it with Veronica. Not that he needed to specify.

“I know, Harry. It’s okay,” Y/n finally looked up at him, “Really. You’re an… attractive man and you need to, well, you know,” she smiled and felt herself blush. Her saving grace was the bruising to hide the rush of blood to the apples of her cheeks.

“You think I’m attractive?” His mouth quirked up to one side as he tilted his head to the side.

“Well, yeah,” Y/n shrugged.

Harry released her shoulders and nodded, “Hmm… good to know.”

She watched him walk to the island and pick up both glasses of wine. He stepped back in front of the bruised girl and handed her the glass, “Cheers,” he held his glass out.

Y/n raised a brow as she lifted her glass to clink with Harry’s, “To what?”

Harry took a sip and shrugged and then smiled down at her, “To us. You’re doing well, and I’m happy that I have your company. It’s been really nice having you here. Haven’t been lonely since you’ve been here with me.”

Y/n took a sip and kept her eyes on the man but with a look of disbelief in her eyes. She wasn’t buying it.

“What?! You don’t believe me when I tell you this every single time, but I truly like your company. You’re funny and you’re nice, Y/n. I’ve liked you since I first met you. I got lucky to have such a perfect house guest.” He leaned his hip to the island across from where she stood and she mimicked his pose, leaning her hip to the marble at the sink and shook her head, “I don’t believe you because I think you’re just being nice. Like you felt you had to take me in or I’d be out on the street. Which I’m thankful for!”

Harry let out a frustrated sigh but kept a small smile on his face, “You’re insane. You think I’d let just anyone stay in my house with me because I was worried they’d be on the street? If you were Veronica she’d be out of luck. I’d never let her stay here. Maybe for a night or two but she doesn’t have a kind heart like you. She’d probably screw me over or something. I don’t actually trust her. You, I trust.”

Y/n furrowed her brow, “You don’t have to keep comparing me to her you know. I get it. She’s hot and you like to fuck her, and I’m nice and you like to talk to me.”

Harry cackled a belly laugh that instantly put a smile on Y/n’s face, as he put his hand behind him onto the countertop and looked up at the ceiling, “Jesus Christ, Y/n.”

“It’s the truth. She’s fuckable but not trustworthy. I’m disfigured, but nice and so therefore trustworthy,” Y/n laughed as she spoke.

Harry pushed himself off the counter, leaving his glass of cabernet on the island as he stepped forward to breach the space between himself and Y/n. He took her glass out of her hand, placing it on the counter behind her, and brought his hands up to cup her face with a frown, “Disfigured?” He shook his head.

Y/n kept her eyes on him. The mood had changed so suddenly she wasn’t quite sure she understood what he was doing, but his hands on her face were welcome and gentle and warm.

“Y/n… Even with these bruises, and scrapes,” he brushed his thumb over the purple skin on her cheek and down toward the edge of her lip, “you’re so beautiful. I mean…” he dropped his hands from her face and laughed, grasping her hands in his he kept his eyes on her face, “And that’s just your physical beauty. The rest of you… god. You’re more than just this, Y/n,” he said as he released her hands and slowly brushed his fingertips upward on the inside of her forearms, the most sensitive part of her skin, until he met the bend of her arm and wrapped his hands around the topmost part of her forearms.

She was shocked. She was starting to look somewhat normal again but she was still bruised and had splotches on her face and a body that was slow moving. There was no way she was more beautiful than Veronica. Sure maybe Y/n was nicer, but prettier? Certainly not beautiful like he said.

“You don’t believe me?” Harry scrunched his brows as he looked down at Y/n.

She swallowed and shook her head, “No. I don’t.”

Harry closed his eyes, his hands still holding her forearms as he pulled her arms to wrap around him and then brought his own arms around her and burrowed his face into the crook of her neck. The hug was perfect. Just tight enough to make a point, but still gentle enough that it didn’t hurt her body.

His warm breath cascaded over her neck and the tip of his nose pressed into her skin as he spoke, “Then I’ll keep telling you until you believe me. And…” he let out a heavy breath that had Y/n squeezing her eyes closed and feeling her heart pound in her chest, “I can show you even. If you want.”

A/N: This 3 part series will only be posted on Patreon. If you'd like more of this, I'd be so thankful to you for subscribing! xoxo

[hazelfoureyes]

A Doe in Fall (Part 13)

⟢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 smutty💦

Late? Yes. Buuuuut

If ya missed it:

Oct 19th Kinktober Day 19 - Proffer smut💦 Oct 13th Kinktober Day 13 - Handled smut💦

Where we left off: Autumn got released from the station to learn Alastor is at an unknown place called the Golden Dish.

Part 13 The Release

Two idiots meet on a sidewalk, one is drunk and one is stressed. Angst ensues. First Half is reader’s POV, second is Alastor’s POV.

「Warnings/Promises: Human Alastor x Fem!Reader, two parts in one, still not smut cuz we’re waiting for the special moment, surprise Latin, Alastor drunkenly remembers his accent, angst, first fights, muffled confessions, bare feet, too much alcohol, Mimzy is her own tag, I promise she’ll be back」

MDNI 🥃 😵‍💫

The Release (Autumn)

Your relief Alastor wasn’t there was clouded by the slight hurt Alastor wasn’t there.

Any ability to mask your true feelings left you with the exhaustion of being arrested at work, in front of customers and companions alike. This was made obvious by Johnny’s slight pat to your shoulder, “Want me to walk you there?”

You shook your head. Everyone already knew too much. 

“It’s not too far, I think… I’ll be fine.” You could imagine Alastor’s panicked face. Had you ever actually seen it though? 

With a wave, you left Johnny and began the walk to, presumably, the Golden Dish. It was cold, already the night bringing a chill. Eyes to your feet, you realized you were still in her shoes. 

Where had she walked in New Orleans? Where did she meet Alastor’s father? You had to wonder what he had looked like. Surely he was handsome. Was he kind to her, like Alastor was to you? Or had it been a one night stand?

A small smile, she didn’t look like the type but looks could be deceiving. Alastor didn’t look like the kind of man who kissed bloodied cheeks and tossed heads into holes.

Flipping the card over again, you lifted it to the light. 

Tentatively you brought it to your nose and gave it a sniff. No perfume. 

The list of possibilities ran wild. 

You knew he wasn’t a virgin, and he’d mentioned before he’d been happily coupled with others before his preferences became their frustrations. But you’d never stopped to really imagine it past a fleeting image. Alastor kissing someone else. Alastor going down on someone else. Did he enjoy it as much as he enjoyed you?

It wasn’t necessarily jealousy, but your stomach did a little flip. Did they properly express their gratitude? Doubtful. How many times did he acquiesce to his partner’s wants and then be treated like it was the expectation and not an exception of his affections?

It wasn’t as late as you had thought and the streets were busy. It made you feel a little safer. Not having a purse helped that.

You weren’t entirely sure where Rosseau was, and after stopping a very lovely looking couple, you got hastily pointed toward the water. Anxiously, you kicked up your pace. The closer you got, the more nervous you were to see him. Not knowing how he felt, be it angry or worried or a mix of the two, was doing you in. Turning left, you practically jogged down the street in search of The Golden Dish.

On the first pass, you didn’t find it. You crossed the street and tried again, getting more of the buildings into sight. Nothing.

Crossing back, you found the door with a shiny golden number three.

The restaurant looked nice, but it wasn’t the Golden Dish. The name above the door was Grano D'oro.

You leaned into the alley, hoping maybe there was a man waiting with a secret door. It was pristine; no men, no trash, no mystery liquids.

Taking a moment to smooth your hair and adjust your dress, you walked in.

The entrance was lavish, the floor a black and white marble and fixtures that shined like gold. A man stood behind a host stand, looking at you expectantly. When you were within a few feet, he asked if you had a reservation.

“Uh, no. I’m looking for Alastor.”

“Does Alastor have a reservation?” He looked down, presumably at a paper of names, and then back up at you.

You looked past the parted red curtains into the dining room. “I don’t think so…ah! I have a card.” You handed it over and he gave it a look, flipping it over before nodding. “Just a moment, miss. Please wait here. You’re welcome to use the ladies room to clean up.”

From insulted to panicked, you realized you’d forgotten about your face. Pushing the heavy wooden door open to the bathroom, your reflection caught you off guard. Your eyes were encircled in black, scleras red, blush smeared into your hairline, and your lips were soft around the edges from misplaced lipstick. You looked like a wreck in human form.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck,” you grabbed a tissue from the nearest stall and wetted it under the faucet, removing every bit of make up you could. The skin under your eyelashes still had a darkness to them and nothing could be done for the bloodshot eyes, but you let that go. You did away with the lipstick entirely, and most of the blush was out of your hair and off your cheeks. Now you just looked tired. 

Mortified, you remembered the couple you’d stopped and asked for directions from. They must have thought you’d had a fight or were some loon. Hell, maybe that was why no one stopped to bother you.

With one more glance at your disheveled appearance you sheepishly returned to the entrance and peeked into the dining room again. Everyone was dressed so nicely. You could imagine Alastor fitting in quite well. The host returned, not saying a word and sans Alastor. Before you could find the courage to ask him anything, a hand smacked your arm from behind.

“I thought you’d be more fatale and less femme. Anyways, your deadweight’s in the alley.” 

A small woman with bleach blonde hair had snuck up behind you, seemingly from the outside, “He’s got his card back. He’s your problem now!”

She brushed past you and disappeared into the restaurant.

“Have a nice evening.” The host dismissed you. A confused pause, the series of events had been so fast you were left quite literally spun around. 

When you tentatively turned back to leave, you saw Alastor stumbling onto the sidewalk. 

“Hey! Alastor.” You half shouted, Alastor seemingly unaware of his surroundings. Apparent in how he nearly collided into a group passing the restaurant.

He turned, smiled, and rushed towards you. Taking your head in his hands he kissed you on the lips, and when you pulled back he leaned in, tongue pressing into your mouth.

You screamed into his mouth, pushing him off. Looking back briefly before dragging him away, you saw the host staring at you through the clear windowed door. He was not impressed. As much as you enjoyed his kisses, it was out of character and out of class to make out on the sidewalk. 

Parks were different. Parks were made for such things. 

“What has gotten into you? You taste like a fucking distillery.” You reached the corner of the street and stopped, “Where’s your car?”

He was drunk. Completely smashed. Normally you wouldn’t care, drunk Alastor could be quite cute. But you’d been prepared for and in need of someone to talk to. Someone to ease the mess of feelings in your gut. Instead you were handed a job as caretaker and impromptu driver. You’d have to wait until the morning for any kind of sympathetic comfort. 

He hadn’t even mentioned the arrest yet or asked you how you were. Yes, he looked elated to see you. Eyes wide and adoring when he took you by the face. But you needed more than adoration now. And instead you had a mess of a man struggling to maintain his balance.

On the safety of his porch, or perhaps together at a bar, it’d be just fine. 

But this was neither safe nor fine. 

Alastor pulled his arm from your hold, “At that little park. Audubon.” He pointed west, saying it with a perfect accent. “Anyway, I’m gonna kill him. Maybe right now! Did I tell ya? I know where he lives.” He crossed the street without looking. 

You had to run to catch up to him, his long legs carrying him further and faster than you. It took a second to understand who he was talking about, clearly he’d been having a silent conversation until now. “Alastor. You’re drunk. No.” You managed to get in front of him, eyes surely begging.

“Alastor, yes. He’s got two kids, a wife. He stays out late, obsessin’ over us no doubt.”

“Alastor!” He stumbled past you and toward the park. “Hey. You can’t-,” 

He wheeled around on his heels, hand pointing a sharp finger at you. 

“Who are you to stop me? To tell me,” a pause as he lost his balance and leaned too far to the right, catching himself with a sneer to his own legs. He turned back and continued on his way, “what I can and cannot do.” You stopped. The sound of his mother’s shoes no longer snapping behind him made Alastor pause his clumsy march and look back at you. “Are ya really not comin’?” His sharp tone had shifted down to a whiny, almost pleading one.

“Who am I, Alastor?” In the past you’d try to hide when you were wounded, as prey animals often do. But you were different from who you were before. Already, you were changed. Hiding yourself from him felt like betrayal, so you’d abandoned it some time ago. Your chin quivered, hands gripping the sides of your dress in stress. Your eyes were pleading with him to not do this. To not throw you away so easily. Diminish you with one slurred sentence. It felt like a dare to your pride. A choice, your self respect or his attention. It was a rhetorical question, as the answer would be a revelation to an entirely different quandary. 

He laughed, “Now who’s drunk?” Your arms crossed your chest and your eyes narrowed further into slits. 

“I thought you’d stop if I asked. I thought I was your equal in this.”

“Well!” He gawked, “This is different. He isn’t like the others. Mister Detective Kenneth Brady is-,” he practically yelled it into the night.

“Shhh!” You hissed, a couple crossing the street to put distance between you both and themselves, “Give me your key. You can’t drive like this.”

Alastor stared you down, his height finally mattering in a way you didn’t like. 

Your eyes narrowed further, Alastor. Unspoken and yet screamed across the sidewalk. You weren’t scared of him, of his height or his sharp eyes or the fact you knew he so often carried a knife beneath his vest. No. Because he was a smart man and a smart man would never be so stupid as to physically harm you. Not unless he planned to kill you. And Alastor wouldn’t do that unless you were honestly bad.

The only way he could ever truly hurt you was with that cutting muscle behind his teeth. 

He tried to straighten his back to gather some kind of dignity and perhaps a show of dominance but stumbled backwards. He caught himself again with the brick wall beside him. 

Mind racing, you had to think of alternatives. Fight him for the keys? Cut into his tires? Just leave him to his own selfish devices? 

He could afford to fix the rubber tires, you thought. You couldn’t afford him running off the road. 

“If you want me to come with you, I am driving. Make your decision now.” You put your hand out, an indication there was only one answer you expected. When his eyes flitted from your palm to your face and stared blankly, you closed it. “I won’t let a man waste my time when I’m just trying to help him. You’ve got me confused with someone else.”

Turning around, you walked the way you’d both just come because truth be told you had no idea how to get home from where you were. You just needed to get away from him before you said something you didn’t mean. Before he said something you couldn’t forget. 

You’d barely gotten five steps when you heard a clank to the ground. Turning just enough to see behind you, you noticed the car door key on the sidewalk. Alastor’s grin wide and childlike.

Never had you felt true anger for him before. The water rising in your chest raged against your ribs and you were sure you’d drown in your own fury before long. Another second of imagined possibilities — kick them into the storm drain, throw them into a bush, take them and leave entirely.

Before you could pick one he stumbled over while bent in half the entire time, scooping the keys and holding them out for you to take.

A list of names flew over your tongue but stayed behind your clenched teeth, snatching the keys from his hand and leaving him to struggle behind you. 

The walk was silent, Alastor several paces behind you with his hands in his pockets.

He slumped against the passenger side window the entire car ride home. You struggled with the shifting stick, and he didn’t offer any help. A petulant brat pouting into the glass.

As soon as you’d gotten into the house Alastor made a sloppy beeline to the sofa and fell face first.

“You’re mad at me.” You said from the doorway, dropping his keys into the bowl beside the door. It felt odd, you were the one who had every right to be pissed. But he was showing it in a much more egregious way. His anger made the least sense to you. 

“No. I’m mad.” He grabbed a pillow and tucked it under his head. “Full stop.”

Obviously, but why? Not an ounce of compassion could be managed for you? When you were the one who’d been humiliated and dragged from your place of work in handcuffs? 

“You’re acting like a child. Go to your bed. I’ll sleep here.” Sleeping alone in his bed didn’t seem right.

“You’re talkin’ to me like a child.” He closed his eyes, apparently in a fake sleep.

“You really don’t see the connection between those two things?? Atleast— go to the guest bed.” His mother’s old room. You absolutely didn’t want to sleep there. 

“No.” He didn’t look at you. 

You stared for a moment, disbelief painted on your face as your own frustration swelled again.

“Suit yourself. I don’t have patience for this, Alastor. You’re acting like a brat when I’m the one who had the hard night.” You turned to go upstairs before coming back, something your mother always did in arguments that you hated, “And I really don’t appreciate the way you’re treating me. We’ll talk in the morning.”

He didn’t even stir.

After placing his mother’s shoes at the end of the bed, you got undressed and properly washed your face. It wasn’t until you were under the covers, alone, did you begin to cry. It was mostly anger, if you were honest. But a good dose of self pity mixed in. Practically running to find him, after thinking about just him for hours before, and to be met with a drunken child was disappointing beyond measure. And the disrespect of tossing his keys…

The bed felt so big and so foreign now. Just sitting in it made you feel like shit. A stranger, unwanted in someone else’s home. You could remember the uneasy feeling you had when your mother would leave you with friends when she had work. How every inch moved felt like you were brushing into poison ivy, it wasn’t your space, you didn’t know the rules or the norms. Now you felt you no longer knew your place in Alastor’s home. 

If you weren’t scared you’d never see him again you’d have just walked the several hours home. Knees to your chin, you didn’t bother with wiping away your tears. It added to the wallowing you were experiencing.

What did he mean? Why would he say it like that? Had it been a lie the whole time, that he’d stop killing if you asked him to? Alastor had never hissed quite like he had then. 

It felt like a lie, and now you questioned everything. Maybe while you worked he was out killing people. You never pushed him much about what he did while you were away.

A secondary thought simultaneously played with that one. No, you’d have noticed him at night taking care of the body. Your face slipped past your knees and pressed into the tops of your thighs, as quickly as the fear receded your melancholy swept back in.

Fine, but if he lied about stopping then you didn’t mean as much as he claimed.

Which was fine, you lied to yourself. You just needed to know the parameters so you could stay within them. Not take things too seriously. Not expect too much from him.

Not give too much of yourself. 

A second wave of tears, chin trembling.

Idiot. 

Maybe Brady had been right. Were you just some dumb dame? You’d done so much for him and now with some liquor you were just another person to him.

Then a sickening feeling made your throat tighten. Had getting arrested made you no longer attractive? Perhaps he blamed you. Being publicly dragged into a police station was the closest he had ever been to being found out and it was your fault. Fuck, even his name. That had been you who said it so casually. 

You didn’t want to be somewhere you weren’t welcomed.

Slipping out of bed, you pulled your bag from the closet and sat it on the dresser.

You couldn’t believe you had wanted to tell him you loved him. How long had you choked back those words for your own personal safety, just to be in a man’s home far from your own with no real way back. You pulled your dresses from the closet, and paused.

Alastor had been lovingly removing your stockings just a week or so ago. 

After tossing innards into the water. He’d showed you where he buried the only evidence of his expansive crimes. He trusted you with things he’d never shown anyone, something you felt sure of given his freedom. 

Glancing up through tear-heavy lashes, you saw your reflection in the mirror and remembered how he kissed your shoulder and undressed you. His promise to keep you warm.

A shiny and sunlit movie played of him slipping off your shoes and putting yours on his feet. 

Your mother had always said you were too quick to give up when things didn’t come easy. You resented that, but now it was ringing painfully true. 

You put the dresses back, tossing your bag to the floor and kicking it halfheartedly under the dresser.

Lying down again, you tried to take deep breaths. He’d said he wasn’t mad at you. Was he not allowed to make mistakes? Could he not be angry around you without you taking it personally even when he said it wasn't for you? That was unfair of you. You were expecting a drunk man to speak clearly and with well thought out perception of how he’d be heard. The reasons for his drunkenness were unknown, and when you stopped to consider things more, you’d never just out right told him how you felt. Until you were upset and going up the stairs. Admittedly, to your defense, he was very drunk. 

He owed you an apology, that was absolutely expected given the way he’d spoken and tossed his keys, but he’d done enough to earn the right to explain himself before you just up and left in the middle of the night.

The idea of him waking up to an empty home and a migraine almost brought you back to tears. Alastor’s distaste for being alone had become clear, in the way he used to go out often just to have dance company, how he so quickly pulled you into his home and lap. You’d feel his heart break from across the river if you up and left while he slept. 

Johnny had said he was a mess before, clearly he did care to some degree. You’d trusted him this long. You’d killed a man for him. You could give him a night to be an ass and hear him out in the morning.

But if he didn’t apologize, if he didn’t seem to understand how selfish and unkind he had been to you… You rolled onto your side and tried to straighten your legs but felt vulnerable like that. Pulling them up again you curled into a ball and focused on deep calming breaths. It would be fine. The best way to find out if someone was worth trusting was to trust them. Alastor had been worth so much more than you’d expected a person could be. This was just a hiccup. 

Thinking back on past relationships, you realized most first fights were also your last fights. If you and someone had friction, it was easiest to walk away and try again. There was no expectation of a picture perfect romance, not at all. But once someone disappointed you, it was hard to see them again in a positive light. Throwing things away had always been simpler than putting in the work to fix them. Once you’ve done that, you’ve shown someone your hand. You’ve shown them they mattered and they could use that against you. 

People who knew they were important to you could hold that over your head and push just how much they could get away with. 

Alastor, what more could he do? What on earth could he possibly get away with? He had no interest in stepping out, and he couldn’t easily date when his hobbies and home were crime scenes.

The person with the most to lose was him, you realized. Maybe not lose you, you didn’t pretend you were that important to him. But his life away from iron bars and cuffs was now dependent on you. If he had always been a few too many drinks away from fucking that all up, he’d have been caught a long time ago. 

He would make it better. He would say whatever really happened in the morning and fix it. You could trust that and let your eyes finally close. Alastor hadn’t failed you yet, and you believed he wouldn’t start now. 

When you woke up, it was early. Unnaturally early for you. But stress did that. Whatever the opposite of Christmas morning, that was the mechanism pulling you out of bed as the sun was just beginning to rise. 

He was still asleep on the couch when you crept down the stairs. He looked like shit. Which made you feel a little good. If he looked perfect it’d be immensely dissatisfying. You tried to open the back door quietly but the old hinges whined and the swollen wooden door snapped against the frame when you let it go. 

Sitting on the top of the porch steps that led to the backyard, if you could call such an expanse that, you tried to take in the wet cool air. It was officially fall. Soon you’d have to pull out your coat. Your toes wiggled against the flaking paint of the steps, you still needed to go home and get your shoes. 

A groan and you doubled over, you were assuming so confidently that you’d still be staying with Alastor. That was a good thing, right? Or…. you weren’t sure. You had no healthy relationships to look to for guidance. Rolling your back up, you looked up at the dark cobalt sky fading into baby blue, a color that matched the ceiling of the porch above you. 

You heard the creak of the screen door and felt the old wood bend behind you as he finally stumbled out. He plopped down beside you, before lowering himself to his right side and resting his head on your lap. He stared out at the greenhouse like you did. Your hands twitched to touch him, but you kept them to your sides. 

“You are my darling.” He said with a raspy voice hoarse from an intoxicated dehydration. You finally looked at him, but he didn’t meet the gaze. “That’s who you are.”

“You sure didn’t make me feel like your anything last night.” Your tone was cold and sharp, spoken like a stranger scolding another. Stay strong, you thought. Make him understand how he made you feel before, even if you were already cooling off. 

You saw the fabric of your white slip turn a storm grey beneath his face, tears tumbling across the bridge of his nose before seeping into the night dress.

“I know. I’m sorry. I was so,” he sighed and you took your opportunity.

“Drunk.”

“Enraged.” He whined, eyelids coming to act as a poor dam, “And drunk.”

“And disrespectful.”

He groaned now, shoulders tightening in shame, “That too.”

You understood he was angry. Did he think you weren’t? You’d been humiliated. You’d been interrogated. 

“I want to split his skull with an ax.” His fingers were playing with something beneath his closed thighs, hands pressed between them.  “I’m sorry. I— you were not wrong.” You caught a glimpse of the bright yellow handkerchief being wrung between sweaty palms with nervous fingers when he finally opened his legs. “I didn’t know what to do with myself when your manager said you’d been arrested. I almost drove my car into the station doors.”

“So getting zozzled and shouting the personal details of a New Orleans detective into the night seemed… the better option? When I had already had a difficult evening?” You felt a flame in your chest again. “When I needed your support? Comfort?”

He nodded, slick and smooth face gliding over the silk. A sob, choked and broken as he buried his head again into your lap. “I’d never felt so helpless, I just…I responded very selfishly. I’m sorry.” 

The heavy and hot indignation finally began to cool in you, and you let yourself run your fingers through his hair. 

“Will you ever let me kill him?” He asked your thighs.

You thought for a moment. The safety in Alastor’s killings were the degrees of separation between him and his targets. The plausible deniability. The lack of obvious motive. If you could find that same safety net when killing Brady, then, sure. “When he’s no longer a threat to us. When no one will be shocked to hear he’s dead.” 

His arms came to hold onto your legs, soft pads of his digits stroking the skin beneath your clothing.

“He went too far.” Alastor muttered, moving his head enough to look at you from the corner of his eyes. 

“And he knows your name.” You added, the arrest being of equal importance if not less. 

“I’m beginning to think it doesn’t matter.” Alastor inched his body closer to you. “I’ve never been a bigger failure in all my life than last night. In every way. To myself and to you.” His head turned, the soft and sharp features alike of his face burying into your lap. A gentle shake of his shoulders as he lost his fight to not weep openly into you broke your heart. He let out a weak and muffled series of sounds, followed by a louder and clearer, “Do you want to leave me?”

Wincing, you remembered how close you’d been to doing just that. It was good though that he asked. Indicating Alastor knew how serious you took the way he had acted the night before. 

You pulled his head up by the back of his collar. With your first good look at him in the crisp orange morning light you could see his lips were red and raw from nervous chewing, his hair lacking its usual shine or form. The right side of his face was wet. Tears new and old began to reroute and slide down his high cheeks and pointed jaw. They met at the very bottom of his chin, for the first time in their short lives, and dropped onto you in little couplings. Falling like they were made to always do just that. Just now. Just for him. A fate you could understand so naturally it was bordering on unnerving. A love story you were sure you were playing out.

How rarely you’d seen a man cry. In the past perhaps you’d have been put off. Cringed. Considered it a pathetic show of weakness and lost respect for them. But all you could feel now was a pain so deep and all encompassing it felt as if your skin was cracking off. A dry river bed in the heat of summer. What had been there before? Disgust? Indifference? Even his tears were of a magnitude more important than anyone else’s. Every piece of him mattered more to you. 

Leave him? Of course not. No matter what he did, dead or alive, monster or man, you would never hate him enough. And that wasn’t necessarily a good thing. No, that absolutely wasn’t a good thing. A dangerous something he could never fully be told. 

Oh.

Ruth’s words on the roof crawled from their grave and tugged at your ankles. 

You were in that worst kind of love; Unconditional. 

Fireworks were out of the question but you could manage something for him. You had to tell him. Things were too far gone now and you couldn’t be sure how much time was left now that Brady had a name.

“Give me a little time. I’ll show you how stupid of a question that is over our first fight,” Your thumbs wiped away his tears. The handkerchief came back to view, so you gingerly took it and dabbed the sacred lacrima from his cheeks. You took his head between both hands and stared unflinching into the sweet, sun kissed brown of his eyes, “I never want to leave you. Even if I do, even if somehow I’m convinced to go, you’ll have to rip your heart out of my cold dead hands or I’ll take it with me.” 

“What have I told you? Don’t mention those things. The spirits are listening.” He attempted a gentle smile through his tear stained cheeks and you couldn’t stop yourself from kissing him. How could someone so good with a knife be so soft?

Another torrent of tears from him and a reply so earnest and so sure your body leaned back with surprise, “But, it’s not mine anymore. Isn’t that obvious?” He half whispered it into the ether.

Please, you begged whoever listened when you prayed, don’t weaken my self respect. Straightening your back to summon some form of resolve, you voiced it.

“If you ever speak to me like you did last night again, with that sharp tone and cruel words, sober or not…” you trailed off, begging him to not make you say it. Don’t force you to make threats you didn’t want to keep. Things you’d be ashamed of not following through with. Little self failures you were genetically predisposed of committing. 

“You can take my heart with you.” 

A wonderful reply.

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

The Release (Alastor)

When Alastor didn’t see you at the side door or back street, he dared to walk around the block to the front of the theater. He was surprised, like many others, to find the doors locked.

A trickle of fear dropped down his spine. Worst case scenario didn’t quite exist as some ladder of concerns, he just felt tremendous fear you were dead. That was the only rung. Had someone been watching you, that he didn’t notice as he was too preoccupied with watching Brady? 

“Alastor?” 

His eyes snapped from the marquee to the young man poking his head out of the doors. 

He nodded, “Johnathon, right?” Alastor moved on autopilot, hand coming to shake your manager’s.

“Johnny. Come inside.”

Alastor didn’t move. Hand still in the air between them. Johnny registered the distinct lack of light in Alastor’s eyes. He took a deep breath in, Alastor looked like a photograph of a man before him. There but, just a facsimile of human.

“She’s okay. Come on.” He gestured firmly, Alastor blinking back to life and slipping in.

Ruth hopped from her seat at the sight of the tall paramour. 

“The bastard arrested her! Prostitution.” 

Alastor’s mouth opened and then closed. He swallowed, then smiled, and his head did a little tilt. Ruth looked from him to Johnny. Alastor’s rolodex of canned responses spun infinitely around in his mind. Nothing was catching. There wasn’t a facial expression or comment or body posture in existence he had prepared for this conversation. Because he hadn’t ever predicted such a situation.

“He did it in front of everyone. He made a real scene of it.” Johnny leaned against the bar and tapped a cigarette, “I told her I’d fill you in.”

Brady had arrested you. You’d been arrested. 

“Prostitution?” Alastor finally spoke.

Ruth shook her head, “Yeah but absolute bullshit. She doesn’t have any want or need for extra money.”

Alastor nodded. It wasn’t his worry. His eyes quickly flitted around the air to the concern of the other two, searching his memory for any sense.

The man he punched? What was his name again? No. He didn’t know where you worked. He didn’t know your name. 

But, perhaps— no. He blinked away his runaway errands list.

“Any idea of the bond? How much should I bring?” He patted his pockets, fingers fumbling when he fished out his wallet. “I could get more, but I’ll need to go—,”

He was in disarray, a tremble in his hands making him pause and stare at his own body with a loss of recognition.

“I’m not sure…” Johnny said it slowly, “Ruth could you grab her bag from the back for me.”

When she was out of ear shot Johnny set his hand on Alastor’s, who was still staring in confusion at his own limbs, and made him lower the wallet.  

“Hey, I was there that night you cornered Tommy into the booth. I saw you two. The night he hit her. Tommy was a real piece of shit. And I’m glad he’s gone.”

Alastor’s eyes met Johnny’s and he wondered what he looked like to the other man. He felt the corner of his frozen smile twitch but he managed to keep from reacting otherwise. How many missteps had he taken?

For a moment, time stood still and he imagined dragging Johnny into the alley by his neck. Then Ruth. Who else needed to go? He’d carry them all away into the dark. 

“I'm no rat! I didn’t tell anyone anything.” A beat as he tried to read the face Alastor was making. A small tight smile and wide eyes that made Johnny’s skin crawl. Was he angry? No, his brows weren’t scrunched up. Was he suspicious? Maybe. Whatever feeling a trapped fox feels when the hound is close. But Johnny didn’t register that. “Just, ya know, I’m glad someone told him off. He was shaking like a leaf after. Anyway,” a nervous clearing of his throat, “I don’t think you should go to the precinct. I’ll go, I’ll pay the bail with some cash from the safe. You two can pay it back.”

No response. Alastor’s thoughts a tangled ball of red wool yarn, every time he tried to pull out a coherent reply the knot seemed to tighten and stiffen. He leaned back a little, trying to fit more of Johnny into his view. Wanting all of the smaller man to be seen.

“I feel kinda responsible. I should have spoken up when I learned what he was doing.” Johnny offered a smile of his own, something about it made him look younger than he was. “Just tell me where you’ll be, I’ll send her that way when she’s released. Maybe in the morning.”

“Responsible for what?” Ruth smacked Alastor’s arm with your small black handbag.

“For her arrest. I should have done more.” Johnny thanked her for the bag. “Where should I say you’ll be?”

“I’ll wait in my car.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You’ll go crazy like that, just find somewhere quiet and have a drink.” Ruth turned Alastor around and pushed him towards the doors. 

“The Golden Dish. I’ll be there. Just,” Alastor stopped to pull a card from his wallet and hand it to Johnny, “Tell her to give the host this card and ask for me.”

“Well, go have a drink, try to just… try to stay calm.” Ruth’s words barely entered his mind as he stumbled out into the night. Thoughts came so quickly and in such a multitude that Alastor found his head entirely empty, unable to latch onto any single one.

He was unlocking his car door and then he looked up — he was across the street from the station. How he got from the theater to here was unknown to him. Clearly he had driven, but with what mind he had no idea. 

Long fingers gripped the steering wheel, knuckles an uncomfortable white with the force. How much would it take to snap the wheel? Had anyone ever tried before?

A deep breath, he didn’t remember holding it until his head began spinning. In the mess of thoughts, he saw flashes of what he could do. Questions to narrow down his options. Did the rooms have windows? Could he climb in one and drag Brady out?

But he didn’t know how many people there were. How many rooms. Where Brady was. Where you were.

Deep breath, he was holding it again and the thought of you being grilled by a cop made him involuntarily gasp for air.

There was no fear you’d say anything. It simply didn’t exist. Even trying to conjure the idea of you telling anyone who he was and what he did was ridiculous to him. A dark part of him knew that notion was born out of a blinding fear and not out of true trust. Because if you did such a thing, it’d mean he’d been wrong about everything. That he couldn’t trust his own decisions anymore. What would he do if you did confess?

Well, he was quite sure he’d die. Perhaps not literally. But Alastor as he was would wither and disappear. He’d be someone —- something entirely different.

But he didn’t stop to think about that. Because it wasn’t a possibility. 

With a full body tremble, Alastor leaned back into the seat and ran his fingers through his hair. He felt torn down the center. Half of him was marching into the station and doing…. He wasn’t sure. The rest was just black.

Half of him was driving away to go hide in a glass of whisky until you were released.

What would you want him to do?

He started the car and headed toward the river’s edge, hoping to find a parking spot not too far from the illicit bar.

Alastor made a beeline for the bathrooms just past the entrance of the Grano D'oro. His hair was mussed, his pupils constricted. He drew his bottom lip in and began chewing it nervously, hands pushing his hair back into some form of style. A cough to clear out his tightening throat, he straightened his bow tie and suit jacket. Staring at his reflection, he flinched. An unsettling feeling in his bones that if he stared long enough, it would take on a life of its own.

Something wasn’t right. His nightmares were back and following him around in his waking hours. Terrors of losing his control over himself. Deep seated insecurities about his work.

Alastor approached the host and explained his card was on loan to someone who would be by later. Normally it didn’t work like that, no card meant no entry. But Alastor was a regular. The man nodded and led Alastor into the main dining hall.

Alastor offered passing pleasantries to a few people and smiled as he was escorted past them to the private dining section of Grano D'oro. Separated by another large but closed curtain, the host moved it aside and let Alastor enter. The hall had a few doors but two large doors swung out from the kitchen.

Through the kitchen, with a smile and another nod to the staff who all sang his name as he walked by, Alastor made it to the barely visible door to the side.

Finally, he descended the stairs to the very lively and very lovely bar of his dear friend, Mimzy.

She clapped her hands enthusiastically at the sight of him, taking him by the arm and dragging him to the counter.

“Little late for you isn’t it? Shouldn’t you be at home with your heart.” She dragged out the word, eyes rolling not at the idea of you but at the idea of someone being more important than a night out.

Alastor plopped onto the stool and came to rest both elbows on the bar, “Should be.”

“Fight?” She was already wiping down a glass for him, his head was in his hands which was… a new sight. Sloppily, with some splashing out and onto the bar top, she poured two fingers and slid it to him.

“Worse. Arrest.” His hands curled around the cup and he considered not drinking it at all. His mother warned him to never drink alone and never drink when upset. He fudged the first rule often. But he really did follow the second. 

“Oh fuck.” Mimzy added two more fingers to the glass. “What for?”

He stared into the whisky before taking a large mouthful and forcing it down with a burning gulp, “Prostitution.” He croaked.

“That’s not illegal.” 

Alastor’s stress was momentarily broken and he looked incredulously at who could be called his closest friend, “Yes, it is, Mimz.”

With a hand on her hip she looked up in thought, “Huh…. Well, ya learn something new every day!”

Alastor held the glass with both hands now, “You do know alcohol is illegal, right? Production and consumption?” He watched her face sour, hand moving to gesture at the windowless room they were in.

“Duh. Why else would I be in this makeshift box?” It was rhetorical, Alastor rolling his eyes and lowering his face to his glass. 

Nervously he chewed on his bottom lip, biting red lines into the soft pink flesh. Mimzy stared, unnoticed. She couldn’t remember the last time he looked sad. He did sometimes open up when drunk, perhaps smiling through a pitiful story. Or dancing when she knew he was bruised in either his ego or his heart. But, normally, for Alastor, he kept the obvious and plain emotions kept tightly buttoned up. 

“So, why are you here all long faced? Did you arrest her or something?”

Alastor’s fingers found their way into his hair again, “I might as well have. It’s my fault.”

It was, without a doubt in his mind, his fault. He pulled you in. He killed your boss without any care for what you thought. He made you a shield and a target, stupid. Alastor couldn’t argue against it. 

You’d been forced to lie for him. To sneak and hide from police for him. He was no better than the spineless men he often chased. How could he be so selfish? It stung his chest and his eyes, the thought of you so sweetly sitting beside him just to be dragged into a police station. It was his fault. 

Mimzy hummed, pretending to wipe down the counter, “Then fix it. If you fucking did it, then make it better.”

Yes, obviously, but, “I don’t know how. I-,” Another forced mouthful of whisky, “I roughed up her former guy. For mistreating her. He’s been going around causing trouble now, lying about her. He doesn’t know it was me.” A lie that roughly summed up the trouble. Enough that he could vent, perhaps get third party insight. Though, admittedly, Mimzy wasn’t his first person to turn to for advice. 

“And you can’t just,” she made a fist with her thumb stuck out and dragged it across her neck in a cutting motion, “get rid of the issue?”

Killing Brady would solve everything. And it’d feel good. It’d feel….ah, he leaned back, letting his chest open and fill with the shadow of satisfaction, it’d be the best kill yet. How would he do it, he wondered. It’d have to be special. Slow. Perhaps even over the course of days. Oh, or better yet, perhaps he could show Brady exactly how he disposed of his targets. Piece by piece, taking from him and letting him watch as he buried his parts in deep holes. Giving him all the answers to his questions before snuffing out his nagging life. 

Lost in thought, he didn’t see Mimzy walk away and come back with a different bottle. The big guns, she thought. 

“That a no? Weeell,” She poured herself a glass, “Maybe go talk to the guy. Put the fear of God in ‘em! Let him know if he tries anymore shit,” she waved her finger around, “he’s gonna eat dirt.”

A threat….scare him? 

No one would believe Brady, he considered. If someone pulled him back into the shadows of his tree lined street with a blade to his throat and gave him the warning of what was to come if he kept this up….Did he have any allies in this at work?

“But you can’t do nothing. She’s your gal, right? Arresting her is like….it’s like throwing a drink in your face. He’s embarrassing you.”

A lump rose in this throat, the two large gulps of drink metabolizing and carrying away his ability to remember not to take advice from Mimzy. 

In fact, as he took a slower sip of his somehow still full glass, he thought she was quite right. Brady was testing his pride. Hurting the closest person he had to get at him. This was villain activity. 

If he didn’t reply, he’d be saying he didn’t care at all about you. He’d be the man Brady told you he was. A coward using you until you weren’t convenient anymore. Alastor’s leg began to bounce against the stool’s foothold. Yes, yeah, he had to act. Someone was challenging him. Someone was swinging you around in front of him, taunting how weak he was that he couldn’t even protect you. 

Either Brady thought Alastor was all bark and no bite, only attacking men alone at night, or, worse, he thought Alastor was using you.

Alastor stood quickly, but paused as his head sloshed to the left and he leaned with it. Steadying himself on the bar he looked down at Mimzy.

“Ah, he’s at work.” He stated it plainly, as if Mimzy already knew this. 

“Oh, then just enjoy some drinks and jazz while you wait! When is he off?”

“I don’t know…but, she’ll come get me when she’s released. So….after that?” Alastor was already losing sight of the lie he had told her earlier. He didn’t notice her top up his glass for a third time. 

“Perfect! Now, gossip. You gotta fill me in with the trashy news. You haven’t come by in so long.” She leaned across the bar, swirling her glass clumsily, big eyes blinking.

“Don’t try to distract me. I’m in no mood for such trivial things, Mimz. My love was arrested. At work no less. I’m useless.”

The very notion of thinking about anything but you made his stomach turn. 

As the time ticked on though, that turning was quickly becoming more of a reaction to the liquor and less to do with his stress. 

The only person who knew how much he’d downed was Mimzy, who kept track on his tab with an out-of-character diligence. When the host knocked on the door, she opened it to receive Alastor’s card and knew you must have come for him. 

Getting him up the stairs was difficult, but he was too drunk to let him go through the restaurant. The fine people upstairs had no idea liquor was being served in their fancy dining hall. So Mimzy let Alastor lean on her as she pushed them through the back doors and to the storage room. Opening the trash shoot, she pushed the man out and let him trip through the small opening. 

“This way, big guy,” She tugged him by the lapel through the alley and toward the street. 

She saw you standing there, looking into the restaurant expectedly, and told him to stay put. Mimzy slipped his card into his suit pocket and bee lined to you. You looked different than she’d expected. She wasn’t really sure what she was expecting…actually, on second thought, she had just imagined a female Alastor. Alastor with a perm and an empire waist dress. A little out of fashion but classy. 

She smacked your arm with the back of her hand and left you to him. 

Alastor stumbled onto the sidewalk, the lights blinding compared to the dark and smokey illicit club down he’d just fallen out of. He’d never used the back door, and he decided, somewhere in the mess of his thoughts, he didn’t particularly care for it. 

“Hey! Alastor!”

His head swung around at the sound of your voice, it was you. You were free. Shrugging off his panic like a heavy fur coat he rushed to you, taking your face in his big hands to kiss you. Grateful. He was so grateful you were back. He couldn’t let Brady take you again. How could he show you how seriously he felt?

What did people like? Kisses. People liked kisses. And passion. And touch. 

He’d translate his determination into lavishing you. When you made a yelp and pushed him away, he was confused. Why weren’t you happy to see him? 

Icy cold fear dripped and trickled down his ribs that Brady had said something to make you believe you were just collateral. You pulled him by the wrist, not looking at him, and he felt sure he had made a mistake in not going to the station. 

In the mud that was his thinking, he was sure this was the issue. What an idiot. He never let others tell him how to act or live, and yet he let some manager keep him from seeing you? He let a pissant like Brady take you and whisper poison into your ear. 

He had to fix it. He had to make it better. 

“Where’s your car?”

Ah, his car! Yes! Alastor had the power to make this all better immediately. Why didn’t he do this an hour ago? He couldn’t remember…. Alastor took his arm back, pointing you toward the park, “At that little park. Audubon.” It was a lovely little park, he thought. 

Your breath against his body when you and him first entertained affection came to his mind so intensely he thought maybe he had been pulled back in time. He paused, remembering the last park you both sat in, covered in blood and trembling. 

He needed to make it up to you.

“Anyway, I’m gonna kill him. Maybe right now! Did I tell ya? I know where he lives.” The stalking and studying was part of the fun, it made the meal tastier. And he had been sure to study Brady. When his work ended and you were busy still, he learned everything he could about the nosy cop. 

Unfortunately, most of what he learned was that Brady rarely went home at a normal time and he was relentless in his pursuit of information about you both. Many nights he shadowed the detective and heard Brady pestering and questioning locals about missing people and illegal going-ons at your theater. It wasn’t because he wanted to clean up the streets, that was obvious. Those nightly walks were a pig sniffing around in the mud for a kernel. All he needed was a good enough accusation to rush in and shut shit down. 

“Alastor.” Your voice saying his name pulled him back to the present, he paused for a beat to figure out where he was, he had thought you’d both been in front of the restaurant just a second ago. 

“You’re drunk. No.”

You slipped in front of him, making him nearly collide into you. No? Yes! What did drunkenness have to do with anything? Perhaps you didn’t understand. He did the work! He knew exactly what to do and where to go. Ah, of course. You didn’t know. How could you? He never told you what he did while waiting for you to finish up at work.

“Alastor, yes. He’s got two kids, a wife. He stays out late, obsessin’ over us no doubt.” Raising his head, he felt a swell of pride. Don’t worry, dear. I’ve not made mistakes this time.

You hissed his name as he moved past you, if he was quick he could catch the bastard before he got into his house. His road was lined with trees, shady and quiet. It’d be so easy. Fuck, it was even better suited for his hobbies than alleys and parks. How odd. 

“Hey. You can’t-,”

The word set something off in him. Can’t? Why do people keep telling him what to do or not to do?! Why were people always fucking giving him limitations? 

Brady had done this. You’d never– He was just trying to clean up his mess. Why did people think they could dictate his life so freely? Why did what he wanted to do not matter, even though he was just trying to be a good man?

“Who are you to stop me? To tell me,” He whipped around, losing his balance as he tried to recorrect. Alastor paused to stare down at his legs. Et tu, crura? Even his own body was betraying him. Saying his desires were moot points. Fine, fuck it. He barely needed legs to drive anyway. If he could just do things the way he always did, you’d see how capable he was. Brady would see how fucking stupid he was. Tommy could rot in hell harder if that was an option. 

Ah, it was quiet. How long had he been in his head? Had you said something and he didn’t hear? Oh you had stopped walking. “Are ya really not comin’?”

You had told him to not go alone, to always have you nearby when he killed. You not coming made no sense at all. 

“Who am I, Alastor?” Your voice was high pitched, he could hear your throat constricting. The reason wasn’t known to him though. People often did that before he killed him. 

What an odd question. Had you used your stage name so long you’d forgotten your true one. He laughed, what a silly thing to ask! “Now who is drunk?”

When your arms crossed and you glared back at him, his head cocked to the side. He wondered if you were playing around. You often pretended to be cross with him to make him pull you close and make you smile. 

“I thought you’d stop if I asked. I thought I was your equal in this.”

Not a joke. Well yes, of course you were. But this wasn’t that. 

“Well!” Alastor searched the sidewalk for the words, “This is different! He isn’t like the others. Mister Detective Kenneth Brady is-.” He was getting mad. Not at you, persay, but at the entire mess before him. 

“Shhh!” You seethed, “Give me your key. You can’t drive like this.”

What? 

Oh, so now he can’t drive? Your trust in him had been so eroded with just one private meeting with Brady. And did you shush him? 

Alastor, don’t go to the station. 

Alastor, don’t clean up the mess you made for me. 

Alastor, don’t drive. 

He didn’t want to fight with you. To argue or assert dominance, but…he stood up straighter to simulate sobriety. It failed, his hand jutting out to brace against the wall for stability. A failure that added to a growing pile of failures.

He caught himself and stared back at you. No. It was his car. Alastor was putting his drunken, clumsy foot down.

“If you want me to come with you, I am driving. Make your decision now.” 

When your hand came out for the keys he looked down to it and then back to you. What was that? What were you doing? 

You closed it,  “I won’t let a man waste my time when I’m just trying to help him. You’ve got me confused with someone else.”

Your turning and walking back forward the restaurant made his eyes roll. Oh, the keys still. He pulled them from his pocket, fine, have them. I give up. Failure pile growin’ every minute.

He tossed them into the space between you both, smiling to himself. You wanted the keys, he thought, there you go.

But when you turned around, he could feel the rage rolling off of your body. Alastor couldn’t pinpoint what it was about your face that was different than usual, but just beneath your skin he could see a you he’d never met before. One he didn’t care to meet. 

Fuck. 

He’d fucked up.

A flash of embarrassment sizzled in his stomach before he lurched forward and grabbed the keys, offering them to you properly.

He followed behind, too stubborn to show you the way but unwilling to be without you. 

Leaning into the window, he stared at the city as it rolled by, until it turned to water and then to woods. The air was stiff and suffocating. He hated it. Why were you so mad at him?

Alastor couldn’t understand what had happened. He was so happy to see you but immediately you pushed him away and dragged him off like a child being taken to the headmaster. What had happened at the station, he wondered. There was no way to ask now. The mood was too heavy, and he was too insolent to be the first one to speak. You were mad at him. You didn’t trust him. You, probably, we’re fed up with the complications of his company.

The pain behind his sternum was akin to a splintering rod; stiff, solid, and biting every time he moved. No one had ever made him feel this way before. He couldn’t put his finger on the feeling though, it was sadness, and it hurt, but there was something deeper. Something underneath these shallow reactions that dredged up a vague sense of mourning.

Regret?

He slammed the car door behind him and fell into the sofa as soon as he could. Nothing went right. The day had started so wonderfully… you’d felt like a part of himself he’d finally found. And now….

“You’re mad at me.” He heard the keys hit the bowl. Thank you, he thought. 

Yes. No. Not at you. Not with you. Just, mad. Mad at Brady. Mad at Tommy. Mad at liquor as a general concept. And, the most upsetting, mad at himself. Had he ever been mad at himself before? 

“No.” He sucked in a breath, “I’m mad. Full stop.” He hugged a pillow, he just wanted to be left alone now to wallow in the expanse of these new and awful sensations bleeding into his guts.

He thought it and immediately winced. Not alone alone. Please, if anyone had been listening, please disregard it. That wasn’t what he wanted. He didn’t mean that at all.

“You’re acting like a child. Go to your bed. I’ll sleep here.” Your voice was stern, talking down to him. 

“You’re talkin’ to me like a child.” He felt small and stupid. Closing his eyes, he sighed and tried to settle mind. Everything was swimming. Literally. His thoughts and the room were liquid and floating up into the atmosphere. Alastor was confident he would follow them up. 

“You really don’t see the connection between those two things?? Atleast— go to the guest bed.” 

Connection? Yes! You were treating him like a naive child, talking to him like a confused child, pulling him like a disobedient child, holding out your hand to him like he was a selfish child.

“No.” If he opened his eyes he was 90% sure he’d vomit. If he could just bear through the spinning he’d be okay.

“Suit yourself. I don’t have patience for this, Alastor. You’re acting like a brat when I’m the one who had the hard night.” 

He turned his head into the pillow to conceal the frown. 

Patience… there it was. You’d lost patience with him. And you’d been so patient for months now. Waiting in bars and cars while he killed. Waiting for him while he threw body parts into holes and snapping jaws. Waiting for weeks beside him for inspiration to strike and for him to seek your intimacy in more serious touch.

He heard you make it three steps before returning, “And I really don’t appreciate the way you’re treating me. We’ll talk in the morning.”

Alastor’s eyes welled with tears that soaked into the soft yellow pillow. He held his breath until he heard the floor creaking upstairs to let his body shiver with the sob. He’d had you all morning. And he’d kissed you goodbye at work… and then he came to get you. But you were gone. 

He was scared, and angry.

And he got angrier and angrier and now— he couldn’t piece anything together.

Rolling onto his back he held the pillow to his chest. 

Eyes fixed on the ceiling he listened to you prepare for bed. The water ran. The bed groaned. As the liquor took him away the floors creaked again and he hoped maybe you’d come join him on the sofa. Even in silence. Even angry. Just be there so he knew you weren’t done with him entirely. 

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

When Alastor woke he was alone, the sound of the back door shutting startling him into consciousness. The only evidence he had slept and not just shut his eyes for a couple minutes was the light through the curtains. 

For the briefest, sweetest second he felt excited to see you. It was eclipsed near immediately with the nauseating reality that you’d had a fight the night before and you’d told him…. It was hazy. Clenching his eyes shut he searched through the drunken darkness of the night before.

He had to work backwards. You said you’d lost patience. He was treating you poorly. You’d driven him home. He’d thrown his keys at you.

Alastor groaned, feet kicking the end to the sofa in anger. He had tried to make you pick up the keys off the ground, when all you had done was try to take care of him. 

He remembered you tugging him along the sidewalk, before that… you kissed. No, he kissed. He could distinctly remember trying to lick his way into your mouth. On the sidewalk. In front of a very nice restaurant. The yellow pillow was pulled to his face to muffle his scream.

Drinking was the first mistake, continuing to drink was the second. And now you were upset with him.

He was to blame. It was so obvious now. Not just for the arrest and the negative attention but for the entire evening going tits up. 

Throat tightening, a tingle began in his fingertips and worked its way up his wrists. 

Stupid.

Selfish.

Useless.

Throwing the pillow into the chair opposite the sofa he tossed his legs over and sat up. He couldn’t breath, chest heavy. As his lips began to feel like they were stung with tiny needles, he spread his knees and lowered his head between them.

Not now, he yelled at himself, you’re making this about yourself again. Just like last night.

He’d wanted to fix the problems he’d made so badly but stupidly he’d just burdened you further.

There was no future in that moment. All the little daydreams of you and him were suspended and in jeopardy. Until he spoke to you, had the talk you told him was required, he had nothing. 

For all he knew, you’d made up your mind already. How odd. He himself was the cat in the box. He could already be dead and not even know it.

Alastor couldn’t stand another second of not knowing his fate. Lost in the panic he hadn’t considered at all what Brady had said to you. Taking the steps two by two he found the bed empty. Before turning, vaguely remembering hearing the screen door earlier, something caught his eye and made the world spin again with renewed terror.

The handle of your bag peeking out from under the dresser. It had been in the closet, he had emptied it and put it there for you so he knew that to be a fact.

He closed his eyes, bile rising in his throat. Was it full of your things? Were you just waiting to tell him to take you home?

He couldn’t find the courage to check. Rushing past it like it could come to life and grab him by the ankles, he went to the nightstand beside his side of the bed and opened the drawer, the bright yellow of your handkerchief calming him just a sliver. If he kept it, you’d have to come back. He could call you and remind you to come back for it. And then he could convince you to stay. His mother always said he was good with words. If you forgot it at his house when you left he’d have a way to bring you home again. Fresh tears welled, the backs of his hands smearing them into his hairline.

The handkerchief smelled faintly of you still. His bottom lip was sucked between his teeth and the skin picked and pulled. Still carrying the piece of fabric, he leaned over the stairs railing to see you as you sat on the back porch. 

Sitting on the second to last step of the house, he took a moment to collect himself. Being so frazzled, so undone, wasn’t like him. That foreignness just added to the panic. Bringing a hand to his chest, he opened his shirt to run his fingers down his sternum and to the left. A beating heart, evidence he was the survivor in every encounter he’d been in. But now, half a house between your and his back, why did he feel the most in danger? Rarely did fight or flight kick in, the last time he felt it was rolling around with that man who’d tried to choke the life out of you. 

No strange man here now. Just strange feelings. 

The pounding under his fingerprints became sonorous. It was becoming harder to ignore the obvious. 

Deep breaths, he had to prepare his responses. The only way to begin was with an apology, but after that he wasn’t sure where things would go. So he had to make a plan. 

Alastor hoped you’d forgive him, and accept the apology. At which point he would love to imagine himself doing something respectful like kissing your cheeks and thanking you for your mercy. 

If you didn’t accept it….Alastor had never begged a day in his life, but he could see himself begging you to stay. Perhaps hugging your ankles and promising things he didn’t have. There was no longer an impossibility in what he would do, which was alarming. The idea of him being so pathetic and pitiful was nauseating, however there was no one and nothing that could stop that if you got up and left. 

There was no way to run his lines for this. Like many other interactions with you he couldn’t bring the usual tools with him to battle. Either with your wit or point of view, or perhaps today your wrath, you always disarmed him. 

But that was what made you worth the risk. It began as entertainment, but soon enough the dome of your stage extended out and around him, sheltering Alastor in the warm light of your presence. And now as he looked around the railing of his stairs, he was scared to see the exit lights flicker on. 

Walking out the backdoor, he wondered if he would be allowed back in or if the door would lock behind him. 

He knew the exact moment he fucked up, and knew he had to begin there. Barefoot, still in yesterday’s clothes while you were in your night dress, he let himself drop to the space beside you before tentatively bringing his head down to your lap. He avoided eye contact, not yet ready to confront his adjudicator.

The pain in your words from last night were just now beginning to sting his eyes. 

‘Who am I?’

“You are my darling,” It wasn’t until he said it that he realized he hadn’t opened his mouth and spoken yet, his voice was harsh and throat dry. Who were you? It would be easier to list who you weren’t to him now. “That’s who you are.”

No unit of time existed small enough to measure the pause between what he said and your reply, but it felt like a gorge separating his breaths. 

“You sure didn’t make me feel like your anything last tonight.”  He couldn’t remember ever hearing you take such a tone; cutting and cold. Was there no longer warmth in your heart for him? He had been so drunkenly blinded by his own feelings he hadn’t stopped to think about how you were viewing his little tantrum. Maybe he hadn’t ever really had anyone around whose opinion mattered very much.

And he’d made you feel like nothing to him. The mountain of derelictions crumbled under the weight of perhaps his biggest failure of the evening, an avalanche of embarrassment and shame washed over him and he didn’t try to impede his tears. Men were only supposed to cry on their wedding day and at funerals, but he supposed this day could still go either way. Could still be as pivotal to his happiness.

“I know. I’m sorry. I was so,” what word could sum it up?

“Drunk.”

“Enraged.” a high whine caught in his throat, clenching his eyes now as the embarrassment took over stronger than he had thought possible. He felt stupid now saying he was just angry, “And drunk.”

He couldn’t entirely blame the alcohol, but he wouldn’t disagree with you now. 

“And disrespectful.”

Alastor folded in on himself, shoulders drawing in to try and curl up small enough that he ceased to exist in any meaningful way. Disrespectful. He had, he’d disrespected you in public and in private. The stunt with the keys came back and he thought he may just die from the mortification of what he’d done. 

“That too.” His hands nervously wrung the handkerchief beneath his closed thighs. What a terrible morning juxtaposed with the prior day’s bliss. A sigh, soft and weak. He remembered who was the catalyst for his buffoonery. “I want to split his skull with an ax.” 

Argh, it wasn’t about him. “I’m sorry. I— you were not wrong. I didn’t know what to do with myself when your manager said you’d been arrested. I almost drove my car into the station doors.” He was beginning to wish he had.

“So getting zozzled and shouting the personal details of a New Orleans detective into the night seemed… the better option? When I had already had a difficult night?” He flinched at the rising anger in your voice, the rhetoricals were scolding and biting his pride like a nun’s ruler to his knuckles. “When I needed your support? Comfort?”

Perhaps the death blow. All he could do was nod and accept his mistakes. But, it hurt. Not to admit them, but to confront them. Another tidal wave of emotion hit and he had to bury his face back into the cool silk of your nightwear. He couldn’t understand how he had fucked it up so badly. 

No, he had to find words. “I’d never felt so helpless, I just…I responded very selfishly. I’m sorry.” Two words did nothing, they tumbled from his mouth like feathers. Weightless. When the heavy guilt in his chest was threatening to drag him to hell with one misstep, ‘I’m sorry’ was just crystals of salt dropped in the gulf. Actions were all he had left and he wasn’t sure yet you’d give him the time to show you. 

When your fingers grazed his scalp and combed his hair from his ears he shook with relief. A tender touch that promised you didn’t hate him, and his cortisol levels immediately plummeted. He felt safe again, enough to ask what was pestering him still. 

“Will you ever let me kill him?” his lips ghosted over the mercy of your thighs.

As you thought, his fingers ran along the edges of your handkerchief. Feeling the stitched edges with precision as a distraction from the stress of waiting. 

 “When he’s no longer a threat to us. When no one will be shocked to hear he’s dead.” 

No longer a threat… what did that mean? When Brady moved on from you both, or was simply made incapable of doing you harm. He could expedite that, somehow. He was sure of it. 

His arms wrapped around your legs and caressed your thighs through the silk, “He went too far. Turning his head up, he got you into his peripheral. 

“And he knows your name.”

Oh. That … was expediting, wasn’t it? It was bound to happen. 

“I’m beginning to think it doesn’t matter.” He pulled himself closer again. Brady was nothing compared to the threat of losing you. “I’ve never been a bigger failure in all my life than last night. In every way. To myself and to you.” What a joke he was. How high and mighty and curated he tried to be that he forgot the point of it. A shield he turned to you was just a barrier between what he desperately wanted by his side. His tears returned with renewed vigor, the complete breakdown of his manicured image was a tell tale heart he couldn’t smile away anymore, the greatest weakness he was never so happy to call his own. Muffled by your clothing and inviting lap, “I just love you so much…” he choked and then sucked in a deep breath to try and get control of himself, shifting his face to the side again to watch your face for an immediate reaction to his question, “Do you want to leave me?”

He didn’t want the answer. He knew better than to ask. But – if you did, he didn’t want to keep you there. He couldn’t let the moment pass without finding out if you were just putting up with him. If you felt trapped, like Brady promised you that you would. When you told him those things, the silly things the detective had said before, you always laughed. You said it was so ridiculous. But, now, there was nothing funny about the idea. He couldn’t promise himself he wouldn’t keep that little yellow fabric in his hands even after you parted, but he could swear to not try and guilt you back into his arms. 

When you lifted him off of your body by the collar he couldn’t understand the emotion behind it. You were inspecting his face so carefully, but there was no sign of disgust or anger or even adoration to signal how he should feel. The teardrops tickled his cheeks and chin and fell unimpeded to your legs. 

Your eyes kept moving over his features, until a small tug of your lips to the side crept into a smile. Soft and obviously natural.

“Give me a little time. I’ll show you how stupid of a question that is over our first fight,” The pads of your thumbs were soft as they slid down his cheeks and gathered the moisture there. When he pulled the handkerchief to his lap, you took it and used it to further dry his face. He exhaled a broken breath when you took his face in your hands and stared into his eyes. “I never want to leave you.” His body again trembled with relief, blinking away the nth torrent of tears, “Even if I do, even if somehow I’m convinced to go, you’ll have to rip your heart out of my cold dead hands or I’ll take it with me.”

Stop. Don’t say that. “What have I told you? Don’t mention those things.” Death. Leaving. Goodbyes. “The spirits are listening.” They were always listening, watching, hoping to grab a hold of anything you said without precision and deliver you the reality you mused. He didn’t want to lecture, but he couldn’t let it go. Shh, don’t say such things. He could feel the dried tears crack as his eyes crinkled with his smile, a smile that he nearly failed to switch up to return the kiss when you pressed your lips into his. A first fight? He’d never had one of those. Typically he never got that far. Things fell apart the second someone was unhappy or unsatisfied. 

Take his heart back? His mind finally processed the words. It was yours. The morning had proved to him he couldn’t claw it back if he truly wanted, and if he was further honest with himself, he didn’t want it. It was better off with you. He felt the air cooling the once body-warm tears, he whispered what he felt was too vulnerable to say at full volume, “But, it’s not mine anymore. Isn’t that obvious?” His eyes looked down at your feet pointed in towards his own. Was this pathetic display not making it glaringly evident he was a man turned inside out? Guts in his hands and heart in yours?

You sniffled and sat up straight, bringing his attention back to you. 

“If you ever speak to me like you did last night again, with that sharp tone and cruel words, sober or not…” Your words got slower until you stopped, an almost wild look in your eyes he could read as pleading. He shook his own head subtly, unconsciously swearing he wouldn’t. 

If he ever forgot himself and you again, like he had let his rage and weakness do the night before, he didn’t deserve your forgiveness or grace anymore. A woman too good for him.  

Because he couldn’t ever get it back now, “You can take my heart with you.” 

A sickening fact. 

His body was a tool, and he’d use every tool he had available to make you understand what you meant to him. Would you feel different now, now that he knew you loved him? Would he find your body warmer, more inviting… Could he make you scream your love for him?

Later, he would have to bookmark that idea. The confession was too fragile still, a crystal figurine to precious to even take out of the box. 

⋅˚₊‧ ଳ⋆Masterlist.ೃ࿔*:･

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

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[coochiequeens]

This is why we still need Women’s History Month.

By Martha Gill

What was life like for women in medieval times? “Awful” is the vague if definite answer that tends to spring to mind – but this is an assumption, and authors have been tackling it with new vigour.

The Once and Future Sex: Going Medieval on Women’s Roles in Society by Eleanor Janega, and The Wife of Bath: A Biography by Marion Turner both contend that women were not only bawdier but busier than we thought: they were brewers, blacksmiths, court poets, teachers, merchants, and master craftsmen, and they owned land too. A woman’s dowry, Janega writes, was often accompanied with firm instructions that property stay with her, regardless of what her husband wanted.

This feels like a new discovery. It isn’t, of course. Chaucer depicted many such cheerfully domineering women. The vellum letter-books of the City of London, in which the doings of the capital from 1275 to 1509 were scribbled, detail female barbers, apothecaries, armourers, shipwrights and tailors as a matter of course. While it is true that aristocratic women were considered drastically inferior to their male equivalents – traded as property and kept as ornaments – women of the lower orders lived, relatively, in a sort of rough and ready empowerment.

It was the Renaissance that vastly rolled back the rights of women. As economic power shifted, the emerging middle classes began aping their betters. They confined their women to the home, putting them at the financial mercy of men. Female religious power also dwindled. In the 13th century seeing visions and hearing voices might get a woman sainted; a hundred years later she’d more likely be burned at the stake.

“When it comes to the history of gender relations, storytellers portray women as more oppressed than they actually were”

Why does this feel like new information? Much of what we think we know about medieval times was invented by the Victorians, who had an artistic obsession with the period, and through poetry and endless retellings of the myth of King Arthur managed somehow to permanently infuse their own sexual politics into it. (Victorian women were in many respects more socially repressed than their 12th-century forebears.)

But modern storytellers are also guilty of sexist revisionism. We endlessly retread the lives of oppressed noblewomen, and ignore their secretly empowered lower-order sisters. Where poorer women are mentioned, glancingly, they are pitied as prostitutes or rape victims. Even writers who seem desperate for a “feminist take” on the period tend to ignore the angle staring them right in the face. In her 2022 cinematic romp, Catherine called Birdy, for example, Lena Dunham puts Sylvia Pankhurst-esque speeches into the mouth of her 13th-century protagonist, while portraying her impending marriage – at 14 – as normal for the period. (In fact the average 13th-century woman got married somewhere between the ages of 22 and 25.)

But we cling tight to these ideas. It is often those who push back against them who get accused of “historical revisionism”. This applies particularly to the fantasy genre, which aside from the odd preternaturally “feisty” female character, tends to portray the period as, well, a misogynistic fantasy. The Game of Thrones author George RR Martin once defended the TV series’ burlesque maltreatment of women on the grounds of realism. “I wanted my books to be strongly grounded in history and to show what medieval society was like.” Oddly enough, this didn’t apply to female body hair (or the dragons).

This is interesting. Most of our historical biases tend to run in the other direction: we assume the past was like the present. But when it comes to the history of gender relations, the opposite is true: storytellers insist on portraying women as more oppressed than they actually were.

“The history of gender relations might be more accurately painted as a tug of war between the sexes”

The casual reader of history is left with the dim impression that between the Palaeolithic era and the 19th century women suffered a sort of dark age of oppression. This is assumed to have ended some time around the invention of the lightbulb, when the idea of “gender equality” sprang into our heads and right-thinking societies set about “discovering” female competencies: women – astonishingly – could do 

things men could do!

In fact the history of gender relations might be more accurately painted as a tug of war between the sexes, with women sometimes gaining and sometimes losing power – and the stronger sex opportunistically seizing control whenever it had the means.

In Minoan Crete, for example, women had similar rights and freedoms to men, taking equal part in hunting, competitions, and celebrations.

But that era ushered in one of the most patriarchal societies the planet has ever known – classical Greece, where women had no political rights and were considered “minors”.

Or take hunter-gatherer societies, the source of endless cod-evolutionary theories about female inferiority. The discovery of female skeletons with hunting paraphernalia has disproved the idea that men only hunted and women only gathered – and more recently anthropologists have challenged the idea that men had higher status too: women, studies contend, had equal sway over group decisions.

This general bias has had two unfortunate consequences. One is to impress upon us the idea that inequality is “natural”. The other is to give us a certain complacency about our own age: that feminist progress is an inevitable consequence of passing time. “She was ahead of her time,” we say, when a woman seems unusually empowered. Not necessarily.

Two years ago, remember, sprang up one of the most vicious patriarchies in history – women were removed from their schools and places of work and battoned into homes and hijabs. And last year in the US many women lost one of their fundamental rights: abortion. (Turns out it was pro-lifers, not feminists, who were ahead of their time there.)

Both these events were greeted with shock from liberal quarters: how could women’s rights be going backwards? But that only shows we should brush up on our history. Another look at medieval women is as good a place to start as any.

 Martha Gill is a political journalist and former lobby correspondent

[headfullofpresley]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐅𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞 | 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏

Pairing: Elvis Presley x reader

Word count: 3,8K

Series summary: Elvis has worked hard to become the successful adult movie director that he is today and all that hard work is paying off by how well the public reacts to his work and how much money is coming into his bank account, despite the fact that porn is still very much illegal. Working in the adult industry is not something you saw yourself doing despite coming from a place where it always has been out in the open, but you soon find yourself swept up and away by a certain American director and right into the heart of the porn industry. The only question that remains is... will you sink, or will you swim?

Chapter summary: Working on his newest and what he believes his biggest project yet, Elvis flies to Amsterdam to shoot most of it. Everything is going well until he's forced to fire his leading actress on the spot and there's a stop being put to his work. But as he wanders into a cafe for a much needed drink in the bustling city, faith seems to be on his side.

Warnings: porn director!Elvis, European!reader, set in the year 1970 (so some details may be a little off?), obvious mentions of sex/porn etc, mentions of prostitution, Elvis giving reader a lowkey foot rub in public (honestly, he's going to be into feet in this series bc i'm feral), mentions of soft drugs, alcohol consumption.

A/N: hi! this idea was born from an ai but mostly from The Deuce (definitely watch it!), where i took most inspiration from. i'm super excited about this series, and honestly it's giving me a lot of inspiration to write in general again! this is going to be a short series- i'm thinking around 5 parts, but we shall see, hm? no smut in this part, but obvi there will be in future parts, as well as some darker topics. hope y'all enjoy! ❤

masterlist | want to be added to the taglist? just ask!

Who ever said Hollywood was a jungle has obviously never set foot in New York City.

They’ve obviously never experienced what a real concrete jungle is like and they definitely don’t know that the Golden Age of Hollywood has seen its best days. Directors were feeling pressures from the outside – from the public that wanted something different, something more than those cringy movie kisses. The smaller movie theaters were starting to ID their customers because their movies weren’t so family friendly anymore. Establishments that specialized in peep shows were popping out of the ground like weeds. Burlesque clubs were turning into proper stripclubs and people would rather spend their money on naked girls dancing in their faces than on overpriced cocktails at supper clubs.

They didn’t know that the world was changing.

They didn’t know that even though adult entertainment was far from legal, it was one of the most produced and exported and imported products in the country.

They didn’t know. But Elvis Presley did.

Having made his start as a director ten years ago when he was in his early twenties and was nothing but a naive Southern boy from Memphis, he crawled and clawed his way through shitty jobs in New York. From parking cars, to serving drinks in sketchy bars to being a bodyguard at a massage parlor and driving around hookers to their appointments… He’s seen it all, and he’s done it all.

He worked hard to get where he currently was – being one of the most famous porn directors in New York. Everyone knew who he was and everyone respected him. Times Square was home to countless of peep shows, stripclubs and whatnot and you’ll bump into a prostitute every five steps. Elvis never used their services but he was friendly with them, greeting them as if he had known them forever. Which in some girls’ cases, was true.

Most of those girls were looking for a way out, wanting to get off the streets and into the safety of a movie studio, but Elvis has learned from a previous mistake where he hired a girl who had a pimp and the leech tried to get him to pay them more than the other actors. Since then, Elvis stuck to actors and actors only.

The director was doing good for himself, owning his own studio and brand under the name of “Presley Productions”, and living in a spacious apartment in the city, yet he still wanted more.

He wanted to make a movie so good, it would get international attention. He wanted it to be so good that theaters wouldn’t stop showing it and he wanted it to be so damn good that it would get him a shiny, gold award on his shelf.

And whenever Elvis had his mind set on something, he made sure to accomplish whatever it was that he wanted to accomplish.

It would only be a matter of time before Hollywood would get whiff of his work, and who he was, and for him to open up a second studio there. Elvis didn’t believe in “Hollywood first, the world later” though – he was going to knock everyone off their feet, from the housewives in California to the business men in Hong Kong, all at the same time.

 

The script he had written for his newest movie had been done for months now and all there was left to do was the casting. The process went fairly simple and easy – his main actress was Annette Haven and she was a gorgeous brown eyed brunette, but for some reason he couldn’t get used to her.

Granted, he wasn’t the one playing in the movie and her co-star seemed to have no issues with her, so perhaps he figured he was just being too picky because he was so passionate about this project. Annette was friendly during the first few weeks of filming but as they got to Amsterdam, the sex capital of the world, to shoot most of the movie, her behavior started to change.

She was cranky on set, pranced around like she was the Queen and was late for filming almost every single day. To put it mildly, she was getting on Elvis’s nerves and when she showed up high as a kite one afternoon, the director was done with this girl.

He never was a tiran on set and always made sure everyone was doing okay, but right now it was like a bomb exploded and everyone watched and were awkwardly rooted to their places as Elvis had a go at the main actress and fired her on the spot.

“Take the rest of the day off. We’ll figure things out tomorrow,” he announced to the other actors and the crew. He gave them a bitter smile before he turned around and walked out of the studio they rented, angry and annoyed at the fact he lost a full day of filming, his leading actress and money.

He needed a goddamn drink.

 

Amsterdam was a crowded, bustling city and in some ways, it was much like New York but it was different in so many ways too. People were a little more laid back here (and he figured the many coffee shops where one definitely was not drinking coffee but getting high at instead had something to do with that) and instead of running into a lady of the night on a street corner, they were placed behind windows in certain areas. The Red Light District, for example. It was crowded with tourists and while there was a long canal outstretched in the middle of the district, there were shops, bars, coffee shops and sexual tinted business lined up on the sides, drawing people’s attention left and right. The infamous windows were located in the alley ways, the red lights that were on indicating a girl was working at the time. While he was definitely no stranger to sex workers and what the normal citizen would call “wildness of it all”, it was like he had stepped into a different world, yet it felt a little bit like home too.

Spotting a typical Dutch brown cafe on a corner, he stepped inside and was welcomed by the loud rumbles of laughter of men shooting pool and sitting at the tables and the bar and the smell of cigarette smoke and beer. Nobody aside from the waitress even spared him a glance as he sat at a table near the window and the second he looked at the girl that came up to him to take his order, a smirk spread across his face. In the middle of August, it was only natural for the girl to be wearing a pair of shorts and he was glad this place didn’t set any strict dress codes for their employees, because Good Lord, those legs looked like they went on for days. He noticed the red heeled sandals she wore on her feet and her fresh pedicure on her toes, drawing him in even more. The way that black little apron was tied around her waist did things to him and as his eyes shamelessly moved further up and noticed the size of her breasts that were filling up the tight top she was wearing, he could only think two things – first, he needed to get his hands on those things. And second, she would be perfect for the movie he was shooting out here.

Annette Haven who?

“Hallo?!” You spoke again, waving your hand in front of the dark haired man that just sat down by the window when he didn’t respond to you the first time. Instead, he was shamelessly checking you out from head to toe and working in a bar in the Red Light District, you were used to it but it still got you a little annoyed at times. At least some men tried to hide it and most men actually spoke, with actual words. As he excused himself in English and scanned the crowd for a second, you realised he wasn’t Dutch and decided to cut him some slack.

Perhaps he really was a creep, but your boss wouldn’t be too happy if a customer walked out without being served.

Happened before, because while other waitresses accepted the bold and creepy men that came to drink almost every single day, your mother had always taught you to stand up for yourself and to not take any shit from anyone.

Besides, this was 1970. What did men expect? For you to drape yourself over their laps and beg them to take you? Absolutely not.

“A beer’s just fine, honey,”

You bit your tongue to ignore the pet name and flashed the American a smile, looking him in the eye. “Anything else? Something to eat maybe?”

Elvis grinned and shook his head, watching you walk away to get his drink. You were a very pretty girl with a very pretty body and he realised he was going to amp up his charm if he wanted to see what was underneath.

And he definitely wanted to see what was underneath.

 

“There you go,” you said as you came back over to his table and put his beer down in front of him. Before you could make your escape once more, Elvis spoke up.

“You know, your English is pretty good,”

At this, you almost scoffed as you stood up straight and looked at him with a hand on your hip. These Americans were always so full of themselves.

“Thanks. It’s only a language spoken in countries all over the world,” you smiled sarcastically and Elvis grinned in amusement as he leaned his arms on the edge of the table, quirking an eyebrow.

Feisty. He was intrigued.

“I been to Germany back in the day and believe me, they definitely didn’t sound as pretty as you,”

You raised your eyebrows a little at the odd compliment. Didn’t sound as pretty? That was the first time you ever heard something like that. This guy looked exactly what you imagined a pimp to look like – gold rings adorning his fingers, dressed up nicely in a velvet crushed jacket despite the heat outside – yet he used the word “pretty”, instead of something vulgar like most customers did when they’d try to flirt with you.

You knew you had probably judged him too quickly and although you were intrigued by him the same way he was by you, you weren’t going to make it easy on him.

“Let me tell you a secret,” you whispered as you leaned down and closer to him a little, looking straight into his eyes, which you noticed were very blue and very pretty. “You’re not in Germany anymore, sir,”

Elvis let out a laugh as you gave his shoulder a playful pat and raised his glass, a sly smirk settling on his features.

“You got that right, honey,”

As you walked away, he didn’t fail to notice the playful smile you threw his way as you looked over your shoulder.

 

Elvis wasn’t planning on spending half the day in this particular cafe, but for some reason, he was already on his third beer and he just couldn’t leave.

He could say it was because he needed to clear his mind and think of a solution to fix the problem about not having a lead actress anymore, but the little voice in his head told him he was looking right at that exact solution.

You.

He knew it would be risky – you were just a waitress and you probably had never set foot on a movie set in your entire life, let alone an adult movie set, but he couldn’t stop imagining you in front of the camera, in all kinds of positions.

As he watched you move around the place, serving customers, it was almost like he was watching a movie right now. The way you moved so effortlessly on those little heels, the way you avoided customers that were a little too handsy and the way you were laughing with local customers who you’d probably served many times before.

The sound of your laugh was like music to his ears and he wondered how you’d sound while you were being fucked with those gorgeous long legs dangling in the air. Just imagining you moaning in pleasure had a shiver run down his spine.

And while you had pretended you didn’t like Elvis at all and he was just another annoying American tourist, you couldn’t help yourself from glancing into his direction every so often and making your way to his table to ask if he needed anything else.

When you did just that after talking to some locals at the bar, he looked at you and smiled.

“Sit down,” he told you as he nodded to the empty seat across from him as he leaned back in his seat. “Doesn’t the old man give you a break?”

You chuckled softly as he nodded to an older looking, grumpy man in the corner behind the bar. Your boss. He barely did any of the work and just sipped on his beer, watching his waitresses work their asses off.

For a shitty pay, too.

“Hardly,” you admitted honestly with a soft chuckle, noticing that your boss wasn’t paying any attention to you so you sat down opposite the dark haired man that had his eye on you the entire time. “So, what brought you to Amsterdam?”

Elvis was pleasantly surprised as you asked him that. Not only would it give him the chance to keep you at his table longer, but now was also the moment where he would have to tell you what he did. And find out your reaction to it.

So, he just came clean right away. In one way, it was a good test to see how open-minded the Europeans really were.

And if you were a full blown, crazed feminist.

God… please don’t be a fullblown crazed feminist, he prayed mentally.

“I’m here to make a porno.”

A silence lingered between you two, but it only lasted for about three seconds. You nodded your head and chuckled in an amused but friendly manner.

“Are you an actor?”

Thank God.

“No,” he laughed, shaking his head a little as he took a sip of his beer, licking his lips. “I’m the director of the movie,”

You leaned your arms on the table and sat on the edge of your seat, crossing your legs under the table as you swung your foot back and forth a little. Elvis looked at the way your breasts were pressed against your arms for a second before looking back at your face, an excited twinkle in his eyes.

“And why are you not directing your movie right now?” You wondered aloud, tilting your head a little.

“Well,” he let out a laugh as he tapped one of his rings against his glass for a second, looking at you. “My leading actress wasn’t as fit for the role as I thought.”

“Or maybe you aren’t as good as a director as you think you are,” you teased with a grin on your face.

At that, Elvis just looked at you with a raised eyebrow. He could tell you were pulling his tail, but perhaps far in the back of his mind… he wondered if that could be the truth. He decided not to let his insecurities get to him though, not right now, and when he felt your swaying foot hit his leg under the table, he reached a hand down and grabbed your ankle. You widened your eyes a little and stared at him as he gave you a cocky grin and removed your shoe, dropping the red heel to the floor before he put your foot in his lap.

You looked around nervously to see if your boss caught onto you slacking yet, but he was still busy with the locals at the bar. Elvis ran his hand down from your ankle to your foot and pressed his thumb against your sole, making you turn back to him and bite your tongue to hold back a small gasp.

While you certainly never let customers touch you, right now you weren’t trying to get away. Nor could you muster up a smart remark to throw at his head. You’d been on your feet all day, wearing those heels, and the little massage he suddenly decided to give you wasn’t entirely unwelcomed.

“I am a great director, sweetheart, trust me..” he grinned as he looked you in the eye, a kind but mischievous gleam in his blue orbs. This man definitely was bold and for the first time in your waitressing “career”, you were enjoying the attention of a customer. And a tourist, at that. “Some people just can’t resist the many coffee shops in the city,”

You chuckled, nodding your head as you tried to focus on the conversation and not his large hand rubbing your foot under the table.

“Ha! Bet she was A-American,” you mentally slapped yourself for the stutter (and the lame reply) but if he noticed it, he didn’t mention it. Instead he just grinned and caressed his short nails across the arch of your foot a little.

“Who said she was American?”

“Well, if she was Dutch, she could’ve.. resisted the tempting clouds of weed,” you countered back with a small, playful grin on your face.

He laughed as he cocked his eyebrow, his eyes staring intently into yours as he found your pressure point and pushed his thumb into it, making you nearly moan out loud right there in the middle of your work place.

You managed to save yourself with a small groan.

“Think you can do better?”

At this point, your face was flushed and he realised he was slowly breaking through that sarcastic façade of yours. Then again, he wasn’t exactly playing fair with the way he was shamelessly giving you a foot rub and while you had genuinely peaked his interest, he was a little desperate too.

He wanted to finish his movie and make sure it was good. It had to be perfect. And he didn’t want to get a professional actress now that he had laid eyes on you.

Porn wasn’t a strange concept to you despite never having been in a porno yourself. You lived in a city where sex was out in the open for everyone to see and consume and while porn was illegal here as much as it was in the States, it was tolerated. Perhaps it wasn’t such a strange idea for you to dip your toes into the world of adult entertainment.

“I know I can do better,” you said confidently, looking over at your boss who looked your way and you quickly pulled your foot out of Elvis’ grip, slipping it back into your heel. “Just tell me when and where,”

Elvis let out a hearty laugh as he widened his eyes at you a little. This had been easier than he expected – you were offering yourself for the job and while that was certainly surprising, he wasn’t complaining at all. You were perfect for this movie and the fact that you were inexperienced in the industry might even be better for the storyline.

After all, the lead girl was supposed to be a little naive and a whole lot of innocent.

You quickly urged him for a phone number and address when you noticed the sour face of your boss staring at you from behind the bar and Elvis quickly scribbled his contact information down on the back of a paper coaster as he realised he didn’t have any business cards on him at the moment. You grasped it from the table and shoved it in your pocket, getting up from your seat.

“Hold up,” he said after he paid for his drinks and you were about to walk off to the bar to get back to work. You felt him grabbing your wrist and you turned around, looking at him as your heartbeat sped up a little. “I didn’t get your name..”

“It’s Y/N,” You told him, gently pulling your arm out of his grip. You wouldn’t mind holding onto him a little longer but you felt your boss’ eyes burning in the back of your head.

“I’m Elvis. Elvis Presley.”

You nodded and flashed him a smile, tapping the back pocket of your shorts where you had put the coaster in. He grinned and nodded, slowly leaving the cafe, hoping you’d call him and go through with this.

A pretty girl like you shouldn’t have to work in a shitty place like this.

 

You watched him go and the entire time your boss was giving you an earful about work ethics as you stood behind the bar, you barely heard the words coming out of his mouth. Quite frankly, you just weren’t paid enough to deal with this. You liked your co-workers but that’s all they were – co-workers. They didn’t pay your bills and neither did your shitty monthly pay that your boss gave you.

You wanted a change. No, you needed a change.

And maybe it was a naive and stupid thing to do, but for some reason, you had trusted that stupid American tourist.

Maybe he wasn’t even a director at all, but the longer your boss went on and on about your behavior, you decided it was worth the risk.

“You know what,” you interrupted him loudly, pulling your apron off and throwing it at his face. “I quit!”

Your boss threw a string of profanities to your head as you opened the cash register and grasped the amount of money he still owed you. He was too slow, and too fat, to stop you and before he could get to you, you were already halfway out the door. Though ofcourse, you didn’t leave without theatrically flipping him off.

 

You ran down the street, squirming your way through the crowd, and into a phone booth. Closing the door behind you, you fished the coaster out of your pocket and rang the number. You were connected to Elvis’ hotel and then put through to his room after several minutes. As soon as you heard his voice on the other side of the line, you inhaled a sharp breath of air and clenched the phone against your ear.

How bad could the porn industry really be?

The fact that you were a virgin didn’t strike you as a problem. Nobody had to know, did they? You were sure you’d be able to mask it.

Even from the director.

You stared at the people walking by the phone booth and leaned against the glass wall, your next words rolling off your tongue determinedly.

“When do I start?”

taglist: @powerofelvis @breadsquash @generoustreemystic @ab4eva @marriedtopresley @steph-speaks @notstefaniepresley @ellie-24 @dollksj @webbedwebs @re3kin @wivette @eliseinmemphis @18lkpeters @rosepresley @ccab @whatstruthgottodowithit @dkayfixates

[sc0tters]

Long Awaited | Quinn Hughes

summary: a series of events happen in a night that bring Quinn to the conclusion that he is in love with you.

request: yes/no

warnings: swearing, mentions of being drunk.

word count: 1.32k

authors note: this is the first of the Hughes brother x Hughes brother bsf pairings that I’ve done that haven’t been smut and I acc have to say that this was sweet. And that I can’t believe that I only have one more left and then I am done with those pairings. And here is the imagine that you guys voted on getting first!

Tonight was meant to be his night.

A night of peace and comfort as Quinn was meant to catch up on tv shows that he had missed during the busy roadie that the team had.

But instead you landed up on Josh’s story cozying up to Cole as the AHL team had been there celebrating a big win.

Quinn was fine ignoring what he had seen until he saw another clip but this time of you dancing on some table, now he had enough.

So as the hockey player had to pull his hoodie over his head wanting to feel some kind of warmth as he bought himself time to figure out which bat you were at.

Now it seemed that luck was truly on his side as the first one that he walked into there you were. Still on that table but this time you were dancing to a song that Quinn swore came from burlesque. The only reason he knew that movie was because you studied it inside and out when you learnt that it was an option for your high school musical in senior year and the boy was still scarred by it.

Yes, you were a dancer. And the way your body moved to the music showed it to every man and woman in that bar who was captivated by you.

The captain felt a weird level of rage run through his body when someone reached out to squeeze your ass. No longer could Quinn stand in the shadows watching the events unfold.

Instead he pushes off of the wall quickly making his way to the table pushing everyone away from you “Quinn?” You locked eyes with the boy once it was too late and the eldest Hughes boy had his arms around your legs letting your body land on his shoulder “Quinn!” You groaned as the boy didn’t hesitate to walk the two of you straight to the door “show’s over.” Quinn grumbled ignoring the way your fists hit his back.

Cold air that ran through Vancouver was no friend of yours tonight as it hit your body “what the fuck was that?” You complained slurring your words as Quinn placed you back on the ground now that you were out on the sidewalk.

His look was frustrated as he stared down at you “we are going home.” Quinn wasn’t in the mood to hear you argue as you wanted to go back inside making him wrap his hand around your arm pulling you in the direction of his car.

When Luke told him you had gotten into a university in Vancouver Quinn originally thought that it could be fun. You were a bright kid who was also easy on the eyes (not that Quinn would ever admit that to Luke) so the idea of you having to be picked up from a bar wasn’t something that he wanted.

You tried to complain but once the captain opened the door to his car you knew it was no use “you are like so not fun.” The insult wasn’t there but you were drunk and this was the best that you could come up with as Quinn buckled you into your seat.

He held back a laugh as you sent him a pout “I’m making sure you don’t do something you regret.” Upon revealing to Quinn were you had gotten into, Luke didn’t fail to drop a request for his brother to keep an eye on you.

The drive was quiet as you stared at Quinn who seemed focused on the road ahead “what?” The captain grumbled not bothering to turn to face you “why’d you come tonight?” You furrowed your eyebrows as you didn’t understand how he knew you were there.

Quinn let out a sigh “care about you.” He confessed not failing to see the way your smile burst “so you decided to carry me out of a bar?” You reminded him of his actions that seemed to have no true justification to you in that moment.

Your constant desire to read into whatever he said made him roll his eyes “you think you would have walked out of there?” Quinn smirked as your face dropped quickly shaking your head.

The turn to head to your dorm hall quickly came and went “Q-” you let your hand sit on his arm as you pointed it to him “you are not spending the night at your dorm.” Your pupils had blown and Quinn was not in the mood to hear your voice note of complaint in the morning because you hadn’t taken your makeup off or had no Advil next to you when you woke up.

That stupid smile remained on your lips as you two enjoyed the silence that you were encased in with you helping yourself to the bottle of water that Quinn placed in your lap as he started driving.

Quinn had to admit once or twice that he let himself smile as he would look over occasionally to see you either looking at the city that flashed past or your rings when you weren’t looking at him.

Maybe this was why he didn’t think twice about pausing the tv before he got up to come and find you, Luke’s requests began to have less to do with Quinn’s reasoning as he thought about it in his mind.

Remembering how that guy had his hand on your hamstring edging dangerously close to the hem of your dress it reminded Quinn of why he was so irritated. As you slid your hand around his arm in an attempt to steady yourself the captain couldn’t help but contemplate if this was how your nights were meant to go so close to him “I got you.” He nodded helping you inside before he shut the door.

Even though you knew where everything was in his apartment you seemed to stay right by his side “c’mon let’s get this off of you.” Quinn had his spare bathroom stocked with stuff after Ellen came to visit and saw that nothing was in there.

The cool makeup remover wipes made your eyes grow heavy “you liking that?” The hockey player asked as he dragged the wipe over your lips.

You nodded staring up at him as you blinked “you’re pretty.” You confessed enjoying how his legs radiated warmth to yours.

Quinn felt his cheeks turn red “so are you.” Your hand reached up to pull the wipe away from your face as your eyes locked with his lips.

Sure it wasn’t your finest moment but rather than thinking about your best friend you only cared about the man you’ve have a crush on since you were six years old. So you didn’t care if someone was gonna blame you for not holding back.

As you kissed him Quinn was quick to fall into a sense of bliss bringing his hand to the back of your head pulling you closer than you already were “wait we should talk about this when you’re sober.” The boy mumbled quickly pulling away before he let himself fall over a limit that not even he could come back from.

Your lips turned to a pout “baby don’t pull that face with me.” He groaned shaking his head “in the morning if you still wanna kiss me then we can talk about this.” The captains offer lingered on your brain well into your sleep.

You were quick to pull yourself out of the guest bed as you made your way into the kitchen where Quinn was cooking breakfast for you both “you remember what I said to you last night?” He asked seeing your sheer excitement.

A smile formed on your lips “think my answer will make you very happy Hughes.” You stopped at the side of the kitchen island now capturing his full attention.

“So what are you doing still stood over there?”