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Hoyt x Reader (Oneshot?)


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You tighten your grip on the ends of your overcoat as you tug it closer against your body. It was nearing the end of fall in Gotham which meant a long and cold winter was soon to follow. It had been about 3 weeks since you were unemployed and you found yourself making another round down the overcrowded sidewalks of Gotham, in hopes of finding at least one Now Hiring sign to put your job hunting to and end. But with how things were going economically, you found yourself running into more shops going out of business. It was depressing, seeing how the city you’ve lived your entire life in was falling apart more and more each passing day. You sighed audibly, watching a cloud of cool air leave your lips only to disappear instantly into the pale and polluted sky.


“Yeah well FUCK YOU!”


Your eyes turned to the scene unfolding in front of you. A woman in clown make up bursted out of the tinted doors of the building in front of you, wearing all too revealing clothing that did not match the weather whatsoever. Some passerby’s stopped and watched as the woman struggled to pick up her belongings as they were tossed out right after her. With an angry huff, she gave the building the finger and collected her things before marching down the sidewalk with the sound of her heels clicking on the cement dying down as she slowly disappeared.


Concern etched on your face, you stepped closer to the sign of the building. You snickered upon further inspection when your eyes read the bolded letters. Haha’s: Party Clowns, Magicians, Dancers and More!


You thought of how degrading it would’ve felt having to abandon any sense of self respect to resort to becoming a clown stripper just for some money to put food on your plate. Hey, money was money and you were well aware of the multitude of people in a financial situation similar to yours.


Your eyes caught a pair of hands plastering up a piece of printed paper below the stores logo:


Dancers Wanted

Pay starting at $28 an hour.


You quickly averted your eyes to your left in right, scanning the premises in hopes no one would catch you dead in the act as you were about to murder all self respect you had for yourself. Hastily, you pushed open the shops doors and were immediately greeted with the foul strong stench of nicotine.


You fanned your hands in hopes of clearing the smoke as you slowly made your way through the crammed building. Mostly men, were either hunched over in front of mirrors in deep concentration as they painted their faces with assortments of white, black, blue, and red face paint. While others were either putting on their costumes or fully clothed, adjusting the final touches on their large shoes and exaggerated bows. One large fellow seemed to notice you gawking in fear and curiosity.


“Can I help you lady?” He asked, his voice sounding as awful as he looked.


“Uh,” your voice cracked, “I saw the sign out in the front?” You paused, “For the dancers?”


“Oh yeah, right. Go talk to Hoyt, he’s down to the left.” He gestured lazily before continuing to meticulously paint on a fake beard.


You gave him a displeased look before your eyes fell upon a frail figure sitting on a locker bench to your right. He seemed to be preoccupied to whatever was on his lap, his shoulders shaking as he attempted to do whatever it was he was doing. Your eyes trailed up his spine and you noticed a large black and blue forming on his left shoulder.


‘Damn.’ You thought to yourself. ‘Crack is one hell of a drug.’


You left the crackhead be before heading to the infamous ‘Hoyts’ office. The stench of cigarettes was much stronger now, along with what seemed to be Chinese take out?


You stepped inside to see a large newspaper held up behind a desk, the man behind it mumbling to himself as he turned the pages. Your foot accidentally bumped into the corner of the chairs in front of the desk and the man pulled down the newspapers to look at you and by God was he a sight.


He looked to be about in his late 40’s, his arms were built, you could see the muscle protruding through his maroon button up. A gold chain hung around his neck, stopping just above where his shirt was unbuttoned, revealing a large patch of curly grey hair. He pulled the cigarette from his mouth and looked at you, “Who tha fuck are you?”


His abruptness was unexpected but it sure as hell did turn you on. You struggled to answer his questions as you had to rid your mind of all the nasty things you’d like do to do him. “I-I-I-I’m Y/N. I saw that you were h-h-hiring?”


He looked you up and down, “Oh for the dancer.” You nodded and he took a drag before continuing, “Yeah just fired the last one, Nat. Bitch thought she could fuck all of our customers.”


You nodded pretending to listen to him as he spoke but all you could think about was how could someone be as delusional as to want to fuck anyone but this fine piece of meat sitting in front of you? Your eyes narrowed as you watched his tongue peek out from between his lips and moisten the hairs of his mustache, making each strand glisten with saliva. God how you wish you could be the—


“So?” His voice cut through your thoughts.


You raised your eyebrows, attempting to look like you were paying attention. “…So?”


“When can ya start? We could use someone as soon as possible. Big bingo event at the senior center this weekend. Those geezers go crazy for a pair of tiddies.”


God even the way that he spoke was just sex.


“I can start tomorrow!” You said sounding a bit too eager. He glanced at you sideways before picking up his newspaper again.


“Great. Be here by 9am sharp.” He said before throwing his hand up to dismiss you. You gave him a quick thank you, to which he ignored and headed out of his office. Your heart skipped a beat as you anticipated what was to come starting tomorrow.

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