#velvet blazer women | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kissingghouls · 1 year

Text

The King

Part One: The Crush (ao3) vampireSecondo x fem Reader // Papa Emeritus II x fem Reader

Summary: You thought accounting would lead to a boring life. Then you started working for Mr. Emeritus.

tags: NSFW, MDNI, 18+, horror themes, vampire violence, (eventual) smut, blood, more tags on ao3, 7k words

Part Two in the Suck Club Series. Read Part One - The Count here

Part One: The Crush

When you live somewhere long enough, you become blind to the little quirks of a place. Eventually, you start to ignore the bad news to maintain your own sanity. It wasn’t like the city was overrun with crime or anything, but the missing posters were an uncomfortable constant decoration on utility poles and shop windows. You kept pepper spray on your keychain and looked over your shoulder in the dark just like anyone else would, but you never truly felt unsafe.

And if you did, Idolatry was a fortress you could run to.

It wasn’t exactly the kind of place in which you imagined yourself working. All that black glass and neon light with the constant thrum of loud music and even louder patrons absolutely losing their minds over topless women wasn’t really your scene. But you had bills to pay just like everyone else. When Mr. Emeritus’s assistant, Mary Goore, fired off that email asking about your financial services, you were all too happy to give them a quote. When you saw the salary Mr. Emeritus offered you in return, you had to sit down.

Once you saw the state of things, you understood the numbers. The last accountant had mysteriously disappeared, but unlike the others in the city, he had done so after skimming millions of dollars from the club. He made sure to trash years’ worth of records while trying poorly to cover his tracks, leaving the accounts in a pitiful state for you to clean up. You hoped wherever he was, he was getting sand in his margaritas.

Still, Idolatry was turning a substantial profit and it wasn’t hard to see why. An exclusive, members only Gentlemen’s Club with dues as high as they were had to deliver on everything. And Mr. Emeritus spared no expense when it came to the expectations of his guests. He didn’t hold back when it came to his employees either—you’d seen the payroll.

Mr. Emeritus also didn’t seem to deny himself, dressing exclusively in suits that were tailored to his tall frame with coordinating shoes and expensive watches. He was big, not only physically, but his presence commanded attention every time he entered a room. It was alarming at first, how this well-dressed man could take the air out a space without even trying. You had credited it to the black and white face paint he always wore, the skull shaped mask that failed to disguise his expressions. The harsh lines of it made him appear stoic and serious, no matter the situation, but the longer you were employed the less noticeable the paint became. It was a part of him he put on, like those plush green velvet blazers he loved, but it wasn’t the only thing he was. You suspected without the mask people would still stop and notice him.

And you, you couldn’t help but notice him. He wasn’t the type of man who usually caught your eye—that honor was mainly reserved for scrawny dudes in bands who needed someone to take care of them and pay their rent. A miserable list of complete losers who drained your patience and, thanks to the last asshole, your bank accounts. Mr. Emeritus didn’t need to be reminded to shower and he’d never steal your car to cheat on you with some girl in Florida.

But that didn’t mean he didn’t have his own quirks and faults. There were times you’d seen him in the middle of some impossible feat, like moving full kegs on his own, acts that when caught prompted Mary to nudge him and point out that you were there. Secondo never seemed to pay much attention to the warnings, carrying on with whatever he was doing. It was clear he was strong, probably stronger than you thought, but he also had an odd way of addressing things. When word got around you had just been through a particularly nasty break up, he stopped by your office and casually offered to kill your ex. You laughed nervously at the joke, but he’d delivered it so flatly you almost thought he wasn’t kidding.

Your boss was a little strange, sure, but so was everyone else in the city. If the man wanted to paint a skull on his face every day, who were you to judge? That certainly wasn’t what he was paying you for. You started to like the intimidating air surrounding him and how his gaze often matched his nature, as though he was never solving only one problem at a time. You quickly learned his wit was as sharp as his suits, but he tended to remain soft-spoken while the two of you slowly got to know each other.

Over time you learned he didn’t like to show it, but he cared deeply for the people who worked for him. He’d affectionately named the dancers “the Dolls” and made sure they wanted for nothing while they worked for him. In return, they all called him Bone Daddy, partially in reference to his odd makeup, but mostly because of his constant need to make sure they were all ok. As far as you could tell he wasn’t actually a Daddy to any of them in a sexual or relationship sense. He always arrived and left alone, never spending much time with anyone, not even Mary. None of the Dolls had ever seen his home.

You found it easy to settle in when you started, making fast friends with the Dolls and the bartenders. You mostly saw them in passing, everyone arriving for their shifts by the time you left until you began to realize it was almost impossible to reach Mr. Emeritus during the day. It made sense for him to keep the same odd hours as everyone else, but the state of his finances left you with questions only he could answer. Eventually, you found it easier to shift your own hours to match everyone else in the hopes that you could finally catch him and get the information you needed.

That led to those tiny little moments where you began to hope you’d see him.

A lifetime (or more accurately several lifetimes) living amongst humans, blending seamlessly into their limited little world had made Secondo blind to their odd intricacies. Still, he largely found the people around him endearing and he much preferred this life to the endless solitude his brothers had chosen. Though he guessed Copia had someone now at least. And maybe the Countess could drag his old, dramatic cape-wearing ass into the 21st century.

Secondo had grown used to being surrounded by beautiful, half-naked women. It was a necessary part of the job, to the point he no longer noticed if one of the Dolls was topless while talking to him. It was out of respect, more than anything. The Dolls were people, good people with big hearts and families of their own. Just like with his own brothers, he felt a need to protect the girls from the nasty things in the world, even if it meant he had to become one.

So, when you breezed in wearing jeans and a t-shirt for the first time, his mind went completely blank. It was such a stark contrast to the stuffy 9-to-5 business causal uniform you’d worn in the past. But now you were comfortable enough to dress a little more like yourself, to relax a little. You were still all business of course, asking him something he’d completely missed while you waited for an answer with your hands on your hips.

“Sorry?” he asked, blinking up at you from his desk in a daze.

“The 1099s? Where are your 1099s?” you asked with a nervous smile.

“Oh.” He gestured vaguely to the banged-up filing cabinet in the corner of the office.

You huffed at him, shooting an annoyed glance over your shoulder as you turned away. He pretended not to see the soft smile that graced your face when you thought he wasn’t looking. He couldn’t help but wonder what you looked like when you woke up next to a lover, messy hair and half-smiles hidden behind a pillow or pressed into a bare shoulder. Maybe someday his shoulder. But that would be ridiculous because a delicate little thing like you would be ruined if you got too close to someone him.

It didn’t stop him from noticing things about you, slowly at first as you settled into your role at the club. It wasn’t that you were a messy person. You kept your office in an order that made sense to you, but your desk was often cluttered at the edges with to-go coffees or cheap food that came in plastic wrappers. At first, he thought maybe you were just too busy to get yourself groceries, skating by on whatever until you had the time. It wasn’t the kind of thing he had to concern himself with much; he could eat like a human if he wanted to, but for years now he preferred the simplicity of the kill instead. It never struck him as odd, just increasingly interesting to see what you might do next.

It’s these things he picked up on, elements that made you more of a mystery to him than anyone had ever been. He couldn’t help but watch you, fascinated by any tiny thing you did.

The first time he saw you blush, he felt something he’d been chasing ever since. He hadn’t even meant to, but you were standing outside your office looking up at him, some unanswered question hanging between the two of you. But there, just on the corner of your mouth was the tiniest bit of jam left behind from one of those awful convenience store donuts. You turned seven shades of pink as his thumb gently swiped over your face. He worried he had embarrassed you, but it was the act itself that left you too warm all over.

You weren’t even sure when the crush on your boss started, but you knew it got a million times worse after he wiped that jam from your face. He was tall and handsome, but most of all he was kind to you. Really, you never stood a fucking chance against that combination. But after that day he seemed to pay just a little more attention to you or at least you were more aware of whatever attention he gave you. He liked to tease you, throwing out the occasional odd comment or quip about your habits or coffee intake. It was lighthearted in a way you never expected him to be, not with that emotionless mask he painted on every day.

He would drop into your office from time to time, never saying more than a few words at first. But it began to happen often enough that you were putting more thought into your wardrobe. Nothing too drastic, you weren’t trying to get him to look at you, you just wanted to present a somewhat professional version of yourself who wasn’t intimidated by him or the girls downstairs. The version of you who didn’t have fucking crumbs on her face. It was bullshit of course. All he had to do was lean against your desk with his sleeves rolled up over his forearms and you’d forget every number you’d ever learned.

You wanted to write a love letter to whoever produced his favorite cologne, that slightly sweet yet smoky scent that stayed in your office long after he left. Your last boss smelled like mustard, but Mr. Emeritus smelled expensive and always in the right amount, as though he’d spent a lifetime perfecting his routine. You wondered how long it took him to get dressed every day, how much effort it took to make sure the waistcoat went with the shoes and the watch added to the outfit without distracting. Maybe it was effortless for him, the way some things just seemed to come easily to certain people.

You didn’t assume things were actually easy for him. You saw the hours he put in at the club. You saw the investment he’d made in his business. He knew everything that was going on at any given time. It seemed he was the same way with every facet of his life, picking up on the little details of the world and people around him. He made this wildly obvious the day he stopped by your office with a bag from some fancy bakery and set it in front of you.

“What’s that?” you asked, confused.

“It’s a raspberry chocolate croissant,” he stated flatly.

“Oh, uh, I’m fine. I have a bagel around here somewhere.”

“Now you don’t have to eat that stale bagel from yesterday,” he pointed out and tapped the bag. “They’re good. Trust me.”

“How—thank you.”

He shrugged. “You should have something better than old bread.”

“Like… fresh bread?”

He snorted and quickly covered his mouth, his eyes wide.

“Did you…did you just laugh?”

He shook his head. “That was so bad, tesorino.”

It started well before your stupid joke, but that day he learned just how easy it was to make your face flare pink. A couple of innocent yet slightly suggestive words and you’d be hiding your face behind your hands, complaining with an adorable little groan. But you’d bite back with a comment of your own, never letting him fully get away with it. And he liked that about you. He liked that you weren’t afraid of him like so many others were, even when you probably should have been. Even the Dolls had taken to their silly nickname to make him seem less intimidating, but he knew there was still that underlying fear, that completely human response to being near someone like him.

Apparently, it didn’t bother you at all. The fact was made so clear when you showed up at the annual Idolatry Halloween party with your face painted to match his. It was embarrassing that he didn’t know where to look, but you were barely wearing more than a blazer that was just long enough. But it was so much worse when you walked over to happily show off your costume.

“Look! I’m you!” you yelled over the music, doing a little spin as you presented yourself under the neon green glow of the club.

“Very funny,” he replied, trying to keep his voice as level as possible.

You didn’t seem to notice as you sucked your drink into your straw and grinned at him. “What are you? Some kind of Dracula?”

He never should have taken Copia’s advice on a fucking costume. He looked down at his own ridiculous outfit, some silly Victorian era get-up his brother had talked him into buying years ago. At the time it seemed like it would make a hilarious costume, but maybe a vampire was a little too on the nose.

“Something like that, yeah,” he said and adjusted the frilly cuff of his sleeve.

“Sweet cape,” you added with a smug grin, reaching up to adjust the way it fell over his shoulders.

“Nice dress.”

You smiled up at him. “Thanks! The Dolls helped me.”

“So, this was their idea?”

“No,” you laughed and shook your head. “This seemed like the best way to try to get you to blush. Well, this or showing up naked but let’s be honest, you see naked women all the time.”

He blinked hard at you, that horrible sensation of his face growing warm washing over him. “Y-you—”

“Hey, look at that! It worked,” you cheered and ran off, joining a group of Dolls seated at a nearby table.

Secondo stood there speechless, watching as you shared the tale of your victory with the others. He pretended not to see their heads turn toward him. Pretended he couldn’t see the Dolls whispering behind their hands or flagging Mary down to include them in whatever was happening. He was way too old for this and far too sober.

He crossed the room, stopping momentarily at the bar to request an old fashioned to nurse as the DJ slipped into some bass heavy song. It appeared to please the Dolls and the patrons, several of them climbing to their feet and crowding the makeshift dance floor in front of the main stage. The drink was bitter on his tongue, but the bourbon warmed him despite the ice. He might be dressed like an asshole, but he knew how to throw a good party. Or at least throw one arguably better than Copia and his nuns. He tensed slightly, the glass cracking under the pressure of his grip. He’d let himself get too wrapped up, too distracted by Copia’s nonsense and you, as much as he didn’t want to admit it. What a ridiculous idea it was to even think of you at all. You weren’t afraid of him, but you should have been. It would have been so much easier if you were. He never should have let you get as close as you did.

He looked around the club, noting any unfamiliar faces. It was dangerous for him to get distracted, especially now. Primo still hadn’t said anything about the abbey, but he knew his brother’s recklessness would cause problems for all of them. It was just a matter of when.

It didn’t ease his anxiety to find that Mary was still floating around, whispering with the Dolls instead of checking in with security. That paranoia set in, scratching away at the reasonable parts of himself until only the predator remained. He moved through the club, concentrating hard on appearing calm as he caught Mary by the elbow.

“What’s going on, Mary? Is there something I should know about?” Secondo asked, keeping his voice as low as possible under the music.

Mary raised an eyebrow. “I think you already do, Boss.”

“I don’t have time for games today.”

“The accountant,” Mary said knowingly and downed the rest of their drink.

“What?”

“Ok, maybe you don’t know,” they managed through a dry laugh. “You and the accountant.”

He didn’t mean to. He really, really didn’t mean to, but he scanned the crowd at the mere mention of you, trying to find you in the sea of people moving about. You were easy enough to spot, relaxing against the bar with some ridiculous cocktail and your face made up like his. A smile threatened to tug at the corner of his mouth, quickly replaced by his usual scowl as some idiot dressed like a doctor approached you.

“Uh oh,” Mary sang, staring off in your direction.

“Leave it alone, Mary,” he warned.

“Look Boss, if you ask me—”

“I didn’t,” he snapped.

“Ok then, unsolicited advice: talk to her. If that’s going well, maybe try giving her a gift. Girls like that shit.”

“I’m beginning to understand how you’re still single.”

“Oh yeah, because that couldn’t have anything to do with being blood-bound to a fucking vampire.”

Secondo shot Mary a stern look.

“Relax, old man. No one can hear us. And for the record? My sex life is way more active than yours.”

“How would you even know?”

“I make all your appointments, Boss. Outside of your brothers, you’ve got a pretty small social circle. So maybe you should go talk to her. But if I gotta stand here and keep doing this with you, I’m gonna need another drink.”

Mary kicked off the wall and crossed the room. Sliding a little too easily between you and the idiot, they expertly derailed whatever conversation the guy was trying make. Secondo was all too happy to watch the relief wash over your face, but you turned to look back at him instead. There was a ghost of a smile barely visible under your paint. He couldn’t tell what Mary had said to you, but it couldn’t have been good if you were looking at him like that.

He didn’t stick around to find out.

It wasn’t one of his greatest ideas, but the 25 year old scotch in his office was half empty before he could think of a better one. The cape had shifted to one shoulder, draping him dramatically as he lounged on the velvet chaise. What did Mary even mean anyway? There was no him and anybody, let alone him and the accountant. Maybe he liked your jokes, maybe he liked that perfect shade of pink that washed over your face. And he liked your hair. And your perfume. And that little groan you always made. And your stupid laugh.

But that didn’t mean anything. It couldn’t mean anything. You were this soft, delicate little thing and he was the stuff of nightmares.

He swore loudly as he dug his phone out of his pocket and hit call before he could change his mind. There was someone he could talk to, the one person who might be able to give him some kind of unbiased answer or advice. He scrubbed at his face as the line rang out, wondering if he really wanted to pay the price for this.

“Fratello!” Copia slurred loudly, the broken sounds of some party happening on the other end. “Mi scusi,” he shouted as the sound fell away.

“Hi Secondo,” the Countess sang into the phone.

Secondo swallowed hard. “Hi. Copia, can I talk to the Countess?”

“You are talking to the Countess,” he replied, followed by an uncontrollable burst of laughter.

Dread started to mix with the scotch in Secondo’s stomach.

“Amore, give me the phone,” the Countess ordered. He could hear Copia trying to argue in the background as the phone rustled between them. After a firmly shouted “no” the Countess returned. “I’m so sorry about him.”

“Is he on something?”

She giggled. “No, no. It’s just someone he ate.”

He sighed heavily. “You two were supposed to behave.”

“Ugh, if this is why you called you can go back to talking to him.”

“Wait, no. I—” Secondo swallowed every ounce of pride he’d ever had. “I think I need your help.”

“Mine? Why?” The sounds drifted further behind her as she moved away from the party. “Are you in trouble, Twos?”

He felt his teeth grind at her stupid nickname. “Everything’s fine. I just have…a human problem.”

“Oh. Kill them. Problem solved.”

“It’s not like that. Why would I need your help with that?”

“What else could it—oh. A human problem,” she repeated sadly. “Do they know about you?”

Secondo sat up and tugged the fastening to the cape apart, letting it fall from his shoulders as he stood. He began to place the length of his office, tracing his unbalanced steps repeatedly as the scotch began to wear him down. “I don’t think she does,” he admitted after a beat. “I mean, generally I try not to make it obvious.”

“She,” she confirmed with a smile in her voice. “You called because you have a crush.”

“I don’t. I just—”

“Copia, get down from there!” the Countess screamed. “I’m so sorry Secondo. I swear I’m never taking him anywhere ever again.”

“Eh, he needs to get out more. He can’t just sit in that castle for the rest of his eternal life.”

“He’s about to make it a lot fucking shorter if he falls off the roof of this frat house.”

“Dolce, look! I’m a gargoyle.”

“Yes, my love. The most handsome gargoyle there ever was. Will you please come down and help me? Twos has a problem.”

Secondo cringed at their conversation, waiting as they went back and forth with each other. He couldn’t comprehend the amount of love the Countess must have had for Copia. To be patient with him even when he was at his worst must have been some superhuman feat. It didn’t make any sense for her to baby the man who killed an entire abbey full of people because they said she couldn’t see him. But what did Secondo know? Maybe that was love.

“Fratello who hurt you?” There was an edge to his brother’s voice, something angry, protective.

“No one hurt him, amore,” the Countess said, trying to soothe him. “So, you don’t have feelings for this girl, and she doesn’t know you’re a vampire, but you still have a problem?”

“Yes?” Secondo confirmed, slightly confused.

“Hmm, is she pretty?”

“What?”

“The girl. Do you find her attractive?”

“Um, I—yeah, I guess I do?”

“And not just, like, her looks, but is she smart? Is she funny?”

“Yes.”

“Do you find yourself going out of your way to see her sometimes?”

His mouth went dry. “Yes.”

“Do you…look forward to seeing her?” she asked gently.

“Yes.”

“Well do you think if you…you know, got it out of your system so to speak—”

“I don’t follow.”

The Countess sighed. “Do you just want to fuck her?”

“No, that’s—no.”

“Secondo, it sounds like you do have a crush on this girl.”

“No, no, no. That can’t be it—”

“There’s nothing wrong with that, Twos.”

“It doesn’t matter if there’s something wrong with it or not. That’s not what’s happening. And even if it was, even if there was a snowballs chance in hell, it would mean nothing, because it’s not happening. It can’t happen.” He was almost yelling now, trying to get the Countess to understand that things between the two of you simply would not work.

“Well, why not?”

“I—look, it just wouldn’t. We’re…different.”

“Uh, I was a fucking nun when I met your brother.”

“Fine. I’m different and she’s…”

“She’s what?”

“An accountant.”

He didn’t hear you come up the hallway in your search for him. He didn’t know that you were just outside his office as he admitted to the Countess exactly who you were. You could only hear one side of the conversation, but it was enough.

“I thought you ate your accountant?” the Countess asked, confused.

“No, that was the last one.”

“Oh. So, you have a new accountant who you don’t have a crush on because if you did it wouldn’t mean anything. And yet you still called me to ask about her? Please tell me you’re connecting the dots here, Twos.”

“Fuck,” he whispered harshly. “Oh, fuck.”

“So, what is it, Twos? What is it about this girl that’s got you all wound up?”

“She’s just…” he trailed off and sighed, a fond smile spreading across his face. “She’s kind of hopeless.”

“Excuse me?” you asked loudly behind him.

Secondo whipped around so fast he nearly fell over. “Countess, I’ll call you back.”

“Don’t worry, I’m leaving,” you spat angrily.

“Wait, tesorino—” he called out, drunkenly tripping over his own feet. He had never seen you so upset, so hurt, not even when told him about the guy who broke your heart. Your words dripped with venom, but you had stayed calm, your pulse steady. Now he could hear it pounding in his ears like an entire drum corps as you stumbled away from him.

“Why? So, you can tell me more about how you really feel about me? Fuck, I came up here to make sure you were ok.” You laughed angrily. “Turns out you’re fine, you’re always fine aren’t you? God, what is it like to be so much better than the rest of us, huh?”

“I-I’m not. I am so much worse than you—”

“Wow. Fuck you.” The curse was barely a whisper, that last little bit of control you had snapping under the weight of it. Tears streamed wet trails down your face, washing away the face paint as it went and dripped black and white splotches onto your chest. It was stupid of you to entertain the idea that he could ever have feelings for you, that maybe tonight you could have told him how you felt and it would be ok. It never occurred to you that there could be someone else—a fucking Countess no less. Some beautiful woman somewhere who understood him better than you ever could and had never once gotten powdered sugar on her clothes.

“No, no, no, wait,” he begged as he chased after you. “That’s not what I meant. I—I’m just…I’m drunk, and you’re drunk, and this is—”

“I’m gonna go. You should call your girlfriend back.”

Secondo felt like someone had stabbed him in the chest. He didn’t know what else to do, couldn’t do anything except watch you leave. He heard the door to the club open, music spilling in as you slipped away. It drifted back out just as quickly, the silence only broken by the sound of his phone smashing against the wall.

You told yourself you weren’t thinking about kissing your boss before, but now you definitely weren’t thinking about it. There was no way to tell what his actual problem was last night, and you weren’t going out of your way to find out. Maybe he was in a bad mood, maybe he was just that drunk. Maybe he was the kind of guy who gets a little rude when he’s hungry—either way it wasn’t your problem. He didn’t get to make it your problem. And bad mood or not, he didn’t get to talk to you like that—about you like that.

It wasn’t the most mature thing you’d ever done, but you made sure to come to the office later than usual to avoid running into him. When you made it upstairs and found the door to his office closed, you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. You stopped to make sure he wasn’t waiting in your office before you closed the door behind you and settled in.

It didn’t make any sense to you when Mr. Emeritus knocked and entered without your permission anyway. He waltzed into your office and placed a large stoneware dish in the middle of your desk like it was the most natural action in the world. Like the two of you hadn’t been screaming at each other a handful of hours ago. The dish was the same deep green he always seemed to accessorize everything with, from the face on his watch to the velvet chaise in his office. It was probably just as expensive as everything else he owned, but it didn’t explain why it was on your desk.

But whatever was inside smelled amazing.

“What is this?” you asked, gesturing toward the dish in confusion when he failed to speak up.

“It’s lasagna,” he replied quietly, keeping his eyes trained on the floor.

“Do you think I’m completely incapable of taking care of myself?” You were not prepared to have this conversation with him again.

“No, it’s not—I owe you an apology.”

“Ok. But this is an entire lasagna.”

“You deserve a better apology than just one piece. Everything’s made from scratch, except the cheese. And I’m sorry.”

You raised an eyebrow and poked at the dish. “So, who made it?”

“I did,” he admitted softly.

“You,” you confirmed with an air of disbelief. “You made lasagna from scratch. Like what…like the…ok I’m going to be honest with you I don’t even know what the fuck is in lasagna. What is happening right now?”

“What you heard—what I said last night, it was out of context, but that doesn’t make it right. That’s not what I think of you. That’s not how I see you.”

Even with the paint you could tell he was tired. You wondered if he got any sleep at all or if he’d simply sacrificed it to make you an apology lasagna. “I…um…”

“It’s ok. You don’t have to forgive me or anything. I just wanted to tell you that I’m sorry and I respect you…a lot honestly. You’re kind of…I don’t know—”

“I’m gonna stop you there because we definitely don’t have an HR department,” you interrupted with a nervous smile. “You’re sorry. I’m sorry. It’s ok, it’s done. And I got dinner out of it.”

“It’s vegetarian,” he offered as he slipped his hands into his pockets. “Seemed like the safest bet.”

“That is really thoughtful of you.”

He nodded and let a shy smile form on his face before heading for the door. “She’s not my girlfriend, by the way,” he called over his shoulder.

“What?”

“The Countess,” he answered and leaned against the doorframe. “She’s not my girlfriend. I mean, if you really wanted to know you could have just asked me if I was single.”

His smile grew as your entire face turned pink before you hid behind your hands. “Oh my god you are actually the worst,” you groaned between your fingers. “Get out of my office.”

“Enjoy the lasagna,” he said with a little laugh and disappeared out the door.

Your boss was confusing and infuriating, but underneath it all he meant well. You still weren’t sure what kind of conversation you had overheard, maybe you’d never know. Maybe it wasn’t for you to know. But the big, intimidating man who painted a skull on his face every day had bent over backwards to try to make it up to you. A man who owed you absolutely nothing wanted things between the two of you to go back to normal. He wasted no time with his stupid jokes—they might have even gotten worse. But he smiled a little easier around you after that, a flash of sharp white teeth you found yourself hoping you’d see more often. He began to find more reasons to visit your office, sometimes saying nothing as he sat on the worn out sofa in the corner and tossed your stuffed Baphomet from one hand to the other.

You did the same in turn, spending more and more time in his office. The rumor mill turned downstairs, the Dolls creating reasons and scenarios amongst themselves that Mary refused to confirm or deny. Things only escalated after the day you were too busy compiling tax forms to remember to eat and fainted, falling right into Secondo’s arms. Two of the Dolls, Mina and Lucy, had been in his office updating their paperwork and watched the entire thing unfold. Everyone at the club had already heard by the time you woke up, though no one seemed especially surprised no matter how many times you told them nothing was going on.

It was true. There was nothing going on between you and your boss aside from a couple of lighthearted conversations and unexpected deliveries from that fancy bakery he liked. But you didn’t mind. You didn’t need more than that from him. Truth be told, it was probably better that nothing happened at all. You couldn’t handle another heartbreak anyway.

Secondo frowned at the sight of your empty office. He wasn’t even sure why he was so disappointed not to find you, but he was slowly beginning to grasp that whatever he felt about you wasn’t going away any time soon. He kept it to himself, of course, never wanting to admit to you or anyone that he could care about you. But there was a part of him that was invested completely, a part that wanted—needed to know that you were safe and happy. If he knew that much, he could handle anything else.

There were only so many places in the building you could be. It didn’t take long for him to hear your laugh ringing through the hallway outside the Dolls’ dressing room. He leaned against the doorway, watching as you leaned over and pointed at something in the massive stack of paper you’d handed to Mina.

“High heeled?” Mina asked, her head tilting as she stared at you in confusion.

“High yield,” you corrected with a light laugh.

“Oh! Yeah, that makes way more sense.” She shook her hair away from her face as she laughed, the glitter around her eyes catching the light as she moved. “I can’t thank you enough for this.”

“Enough for what?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest in mock disappointment.

“Hey Bone Daddy,” Mina called with a wave. She clutched the packet you gave her to her chest as she stood. “I should get back out there.”

Secondo waited until she was gone to speak again. “Are you planning on stealing my Dolls?”

“Hardly,” you shot back quickly. “I’m helping her set up a retirement fund. Did you know Mina cleared six figures last year?”

“Is that a lot?” he teased.

“You not knowing that would explain a lot about your financial records.”

“I know what Mina makes. I know what all the girls make. Even you,” he added, letting his voice drop low.

“I’m not one of your girls, Secondo,” you reminded him playfully. You knew better, but your face felt hot anyway.

“Is that judgement?”

“Of course not!”

“I’m just teasing you, tesorino. You’re wound so tight for someone who works in a place like this.”

“I am not.”

He shrugged. “I appreciate you helping the Dolls. It’s…kind of you.”

“Just doing my job.”

“No, you’re not.”

You sighed. “They’re good people. I just want to help.”

“I know. It’s quite noble of you, good quality for a person to have. Maybe you should focus that energy on yourself sometime.”

“Hey I—”

“Did you eat today? Or did you think three iced coffees was enough to sustain you?”

“What are you, my dad?”

He smiled. “Oh, you can call me daddy if you’d like.”

“I hate you so much,” you groaned as your face turned from pink to red.

“I guess I can live with that,” he said with a shrug, knowing neither one of you really meant what you said.

You rolled your eyes and slipped past him, darting through the door that led back out to the club. You could have taken the back hallway to head back up to your office; it was the faster, quieter path. But occasionally, you liked to be reminded of how successful the club was on more than paper. There was something magical about the glitz and glamor of the place, about the noise and the lights. Secondo had created something truly special with his club and you could only hope he let himself be proud of it.

You weaved through the crowd, trying to make your way to the other end when an arm locked around your waist. Some stranger was pawing at you, breathing in your ear as they requested a private dance. You shook your head, frantically trying to explain to the man that you weren’t one of the Dolls and even if you were he wasn’t allowed to touch you. Whatever argument you tried to make fell flat as the man restrained you, pulling you by your wrists toward the private rooms. You wanted to cry. You wanted to scream. You wanted to do anything to help yourself out of this situation, but your body had gone numb.

The sickening sound of the man’s bones snapping seemed to drown out the music, followed shortly by his shouts of pain. Secondo had somehow put himself between you and the man, breaking both of the man’s hands in the process. The last thing you saw was the man brandishing something metal. It caught the light as he held it up, its sharp edge reflecting neon.

“C’mon, we gotta go,” Mary said, but they had already pulled you from the room as security poured in behind you.

“No, Mary, he has a fucking knife!”

“The Boss will be fine, trust me. I can’t say the same for you and me if we don’t get upstairs now.”

Your body gave up, your resolve snapping cleanly in half as tears fell from your eyes. You had never been so scared in your entire life. This was supposed to be your fortress, the place where these things couldn’t happen. You let out another round of sobs as Mary hoisted you over their shoulder and carried you upstairs.

You collapsed on the chaise, wrapping your arms around your knees as Mary slammed the door to Secondo’s office closed with a force you couldn’t quite comprehend. There were locks sliding into place, things you had never bothered to notice as chaos rained downstairs. Mary ran back and forth, pulling up camera feeds on any and every available screen, their bottom lip pulled nervously between their teeth.

As quickly as it started, it was over. You blinked hard through your tears as Mary pulled the locks back and Secondo burst through the door. His suit was soaked with blood.

“Are you hurt? Did he hurt you?” Secondo asked as he pulled you up from the chaise and tugged at your arms, inspecting them as he went. He brought his hands to your face as he searched you for injuries. His eyes, usually so hard and still, were full of fear, softened by his concern for you.

You shook your head frantically once his words really sunk in. You weren’t hurt, but you were worried by the amount of blood around his mouth and down the front of his suit. “That man—”

“Will never touch you again,” he swore. “I can promise you that.”

“Did he hurt you?” you asked in a tiny voice. It seemed like such a stupid question, as though anyone remotely like Secondo could be hurt in a fight, but there was so much blood. The adrenaline in your body was rapidly wearing off, your limbs getting heavier as the seconds ticked by.

“No. I’m fine, tesorino.”

“But you’re bleeding.”

He quickly brought the back of his hand to his mouth, swiping at the red stain. Instead of pulling his hand away, his tongue darted out. His eyes rolled back at the taste, out of disgust or arousal you weren’t sure. Your vision was fuzzy enough at the edges, that tunnel closing in. Maybe you hadn’t seen what you thought you’d seen?

“Sec—” was all you managed before he caught you in his arms.

thank you for your time 💖 part two

#my fic #papa emeritus ii x reader #papa emeritus ii fanfic #secondo x reader #secondo fanfiction #vampire secondo x reader #vampire secondo #ghost band fanfiction #the band ghost fanfiction #suck club forever

217 notes · View notes

smurphyse · 1 year

Text

Ten Minutes To Curtain | Spencer Reid

Series Masterlist | Smurph's Masterlist

Part 19 of Room 405

Warnings: angst, tension, awkwardness

Summary: Spencer and Hotch head to the Nocturne to talk to Charlie... meanwhile you're getting ready backstage.

Spencer shifted uncomfortably as Hotch drove them to the Nocturne, tugging at his collar even though he’d unbuttoned the top few like you’d asked him to do.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Hotch snapped after a while, glaring at his constant adjusting.

“I’m nervous, I guess,” Spencer shrugged, but he tugged at his sleeves under his blazer. “You and Mr. Arends both said this woman is… angry and hates cops.”

“Good thing you don’t look like a cop,” Hotch offered, and now it was Spencer’s turn to glare.

When they pulled into the parking lot of the Nocturne, it was already bustling with people and energy and it was only eight thirty. Hotch wanted to be early so Mrs. Arends couldn't sneak out when she found out they were coming.

Men and women, customers and performers alike, milled about outside, smoking cigarettes and hanging out in elaborate outfits. Hotch had worn a sportcoat and dark slacks that were tighter than he'd wear normally, trying to blend in. Spencer was glad you'd given him some direction on what to wear as he didn't look much different from the rich clientele that waited outside. He'd worn one of his nicer watches and styled his hair just to try and fit in.

He eyed the dancing neon sign as he had the night they found the body in the alley. Her pink leg kicked in and out as it had months ago when he first confronted you about having a husband. It felt like years now.

They went in the front door and down a hallway that led to another door. It was dark, lit with dim fairy lights and old burlesque pictures lining the walls. Spencer tried to keep his eyes forward and not gawk at the half naked women behind the frames, but he couldn't help but think how some of those outfits might look on you.

When they entered the next hallway, a brightly lit booth sat at one end. The woman behind the counter wore sultry makeup, dark dusted eyelids and deep plum lipstick with teased blonde curly hair. She was as scantily clad as the women in the pictures, in a pointed black bra and garter belt, but Spencer couldn't see much below that.

"Welcome to the Nocturne," she said sweetly with a dramatic flourish of her lace gloved hand. She waved it until her palm reached out, curling her fingers in a beckoning motion, "Entry fee, fifty dollars, gentlemen."

"Fifty?" Hotch scoffed, raising an eyebrow at her.

The woman waved her hand to a sign on the edge of the booth that read, Fifty Bucks! No ifs ands or… with a graphic of a woman's ample backside to finish off the wordplay.

They flashed one another an uncomfortable look and dug through their pockets for their respective wallets. They fished out fifty bucks and set the bills in her open palm. She brought the money up to sniff it, smirking at them over the bundle of cash. Hitting a button under the booth, the door to the right of it popped open.

"Remember, boys," she called as they went toward it, "no touching unless you're willing to pay for the privilege."

Spencer let out an awkward breath and followed Hotch through the doorway and into yet another hall. This time there was no door blocking them from the sights inside, just a frame with music and lights emanating at the end.

It was like they stepped into a den of sin.

Velvet lined the walls, sultry purple booths and tablecloths scattered around the packed lounge on a Saturday night. The place was lit with dimmed fairy lights, the stage still dark, with a bar to one side that was backed by large mirrors.

Waitresses in sky high heels and waiters in sleek oxfords wandered the lounge, dressed in…not much and leaning provocatively as they gladly took tips and slipped them into private places. Hotch and Spencer stood, starstruck, as their eyes struggled to make sense when both were so far out of their elements.

Drag queens, drag kings, dancers and musicians all walked past them in sparkly outfits and ridiculous shoes while clients lounged about handing out cash and taking drinks. Spencer recognized a few CEOs, senators, and to his surprise an FBI agent or two among the throng of people.

It was like a circus in here, a ridiculously rich and expensive circus, but a circus nonetheless.

"You two don't belong here," a dark voice came from behind, making both of them turn toward the bar.

A tall drag queen in a bright green feathered robe lounged on one of the stools, sipping from a sparkling martini glass. Her slick lipstick stained the side as she smirked and set it down. Her bright orange hair was piled high on her head, curls trailing down to frame her pretty face.

Her long legs were crossed as she leaned back on the bar, neon green platforms bobbing up and down as she watched them. She beckoned them with a finger, "How can I help you, gentlemen?"

"I'm Aaron," Hotch said smoothly, holding out a hand for her to take. She did, and he brought it up to his lips to kiss the back of her knuckles.

When he let her go, Spencer decided on a wave. You were the only person he really liked to touch. Hotch waved a hand at him, "This is Spencer, and you are?"

"Miss Fierce," she smiled brightly, but she made no move to stand. "I'm the makeup artist here."

"We have a meeting with Mr. Arends," Hotch told her, "We're a little early, but we'd like to speak with him."

She looked off toward her right and shouted, "Daddy!"

When they turned, Charlie Arends stood up sharply from behind the bar holding a case of wine. His face went red when he spotted Spencer and Hotch, but he came quickly around the counter and set the wine down.

Spencer had expected him to be in some sort of costume, but instead he wore a tight shirt and jeans with sneakers. His muscles were insane, but now that Spencer knew this to be a kind and sensitive bear of a man, he didn't feel intimidated by it much in the way he wasn't intimidated by Morgan anymore.

Charlie flashed them a crooked grin and leaned on the counter toward Miss Fierce. He put his chin in his hand and smiled at her, "Trust me, these two aren't good candidates for sugar daddies."

"Oh," she tutted, waving an acrylic nail at him, "why would I need them when I have you?"

She stood on those towering platforms a head over even Charlie, leaned down and pressed her lacquer lined lips to his for a quick second before pulling away. Miss Fierce waved her glass at them as she passed, purposely walking between them so she could flash a wink and say, "Play nice, boys."

"Don't take it personally," Charlie chuckled as he stuffed his hands in his pockets, "she flirts with everyone."

"She's…sweet," Hotch smiled, looking off in the direction Miss Fierce had gone, down a hall and up some spiral stairs.

"You guys are early." Charlie's smile turned into a twitchy grimace. He was nervous, that much was obvious. "I haven't seen my wife all day, so I haven't told her you were coming."

"Is she here?"

"Yeah, yeah," Charlie nodded, pointing off toward the spiral stars case, "Miss Fierce told me she's getting ready up behind the stage. The performers all have vanities back there."

"Shall we?" Spencer asked, but Charlie blanched.

"I'm gonna wait until after her set…" he trailed off awkwardly. "She likes to step on my toes when she's mad at me, and if she knows you're here she's gonna be pissed. Best to have witnesses."

Spencer tugged at his collar, his eyes going wide when he noticed two women dressed in sparkly barely-there underwear smiling at him. They waved at him and an embarrassed blush ripped across his cheek.

"What's up with you, doc?" Charlie asked when he noticed them. The girls let out playful yelps and dashed back up the stairs at Charlie's glare.

Spencer cleared his throat awkwardly when Charlie turned back his way, "I'm…uh, highly uncomfortable."

Charlie gave Hotch an exasperated look and waved an upset hand at Spencer, "She's gonna eat him alive!"

Hotch set his own hand on Spencer's shoulder, "Charlie, it'll be fine. Just go do your set and we'll be here when you and your wife are done."

Charlie grumbled to himself and snatched the wine case from the counter, "I gotta get ready anyways. Don't get too excited by the girls, my wife is as protective of them as our kids."

"I have a girlfriend…" Spencer trailed off awkwardly as Charlie stomped away.

Hotch huffed a laugh and steered Spencer toward the thick of the lounge. Smoke and shimmering lights flooded over them as they made their way to the center crowd, a lone table for two open for them.

A girl in pink underwear scooted up on roller skates and deposited two whiskey tumblers on the table. She popped a large bubble from the gum in her mouth that matched her hair color, holding her hand out for a tip.

"We didn't order these," Spencer said slowly, but she shook her hand and stuck it out further expectantly.

"Courtesy of Miss Fierce," she squeaked cheerfully, popping her gum again. "Not courtesy of me. Tip your waitresses, folks."

She pointed to a metal 50s style sign that reiterated her statement, so Spencer handed over a ten as it was the smallest bill he had.

"Knew you cuties were good for somethin'!" she said, smiling wide and stuffing his cash in her bra, "Enjoy the show!"

Spencer cocked a brow at Hotch, who took the glass and a large pull on it, so he did the same. It was a sweet bourbon, just a hint of spice. Miss Fierce picked a perfect drink.

He settled into the soft velvet backed chair, a perfect view of the stage in front of him. The presenter's voice rang out above the crowds in a 20s style circus MC.

"Ten minutes to curtain, friends and fiends… get your drinks now to get your kicks soon."

Spencer took another drink. It was going to be a long night.

---------------------

You dusted body glitter over your breasts as you sat in front of your vanity. They were nearly spilling out of your bra with the bit of pregnancy weight you'd gained. You could have smacked yourself for stupidly thinking it was your period after four pregnancies and five kids.

You were still nervous to tell Spencer, and you hadn't seen Charlie all day, so you were still holding onto your secret. It ate at your insides and made you feel sick, but you hoped dancing would take some of that away as it usually did.

You loved performing. Even after your original shame from your origins as a stripper and call girl, you loved it. It gave you a chance to let go, your only outlet before you met Spencer.

"Mmmm," Miss Fierce hummed as she came up the spiral stairs, her large platforms clomping and her feathered robe flowing gracefully behind her. "There's some handsome men out there tonight, Momma."

"Any eligible bachelors?" you crooned sweetly as you watched her come up behind you in the mirror.

"There's a sweet one with puppy dog eyes you could eat up," she purred, setting her hands on your shoulders and smirking at your reflection.

You reached up your little glitter brush and dusted her nose with it, "I'm taken lady, there's only one pair of puppy dog eyes for me."

"He the reason for those bruises on your neck?" Tessa called as Miss Fierce swatted your brush away and plopped into the seat next to you.

"Yeah, and what about those tits you got all of a sudden?" Fierce smirked, waving a hand at your swollen bosom. "You get a boob job we don't know about?"

"Hey," you scolded playfully, trying and failing to cover them with your hand. "I've had five kids hanging off these things, of course they're big."

"That's why I'm glad mine are fake," one of the other drag queens laughed, shaking her silicone chest. "I can change the size any time I want."

You all laughed as the announcer Marty, a tattooed man with a slick handlebar mustache, called out for the ten minute curtain. The crowd roared with excitement, amping you and the other performers up.

Charlie came up behind you in just his pants as he tugged on the top of his costume, kissing your cheek. He sat down next to you and pulled on his dancing shoes as Tessa leaned over and smiled.

"Daddy, did you knock Momma up again? We're in a fit over her new boobs."

Charlie looked up sharply, his gaze landing on your breasts. He squinted at you but he shook his head, "Nah, we haven't shared a bottle of wine in a while."

"Shame," Miss Fierce frowned, twirling a makeup brush in her hand, "you two make such pretty babies."

Charlie looked rushed as he finished getting ready, so you turned in your seat and leaned your elbows on your knees. Tapping his forehead with your finger, you smiled softly when Charlie finally met your gaze.

"You okay?"

Charlie swallowed thickly like he did when he was nervous, but he flashed you a smile back, "Yeah, baby. Just got distracted."

"I told you, puppy dog eyes out there is cute," Miss Fierce crooned, and Charlie blanched.

He stood quickly and held out his hand for you, "C'mon, they're waiting for us."

You took his hand, watching him with concern. He led you over to the stage, the large red velvet curtain waiting to be pulled up so you could be presented.

You squeezed Charlie's hand, and he gave you a small smile as he squeezed back. You wanted to tell him about the baby right then and there, but you weren't sure what his reaction was going to be since it wasn't his. And you had work to do.

"Do you need Manny to step in?" you asked, talking about his backup dancer.

"No, this is our number, baby," he said with a prideful grin. "Our song."

"Okay," you hummed, deciding you'd press him on it later. "Let's make rich men spend some money."

Charlie chuckled lightly and nodded, "Let's do it."

Marty's voice echoed out, promoting a round of yells and table pounding in the crowd's excitement.

"And now, the moment you've all been waiting for…"

Notes: oooohhhhh... you guys are not prepared.... How do you think Spencer and Sweetheart are going to react when they notice eachother in the Nocturne??

CM Taglist:

@thedancingcostumeyoungadult @muffin-cup @simplyparker @spencerreidsmommy @hotchandspencearedilfs @gspenc @kbakery @nomajdetective @givemeth @hoshihiime @halloween-is-my-nationality @reidselle @thisiscalmanditsdoctorreid @dreatine @thebloomingeagle @fortheloveofwonderland @theforgottenwinter @parkerreidnorth @reidselle @randomhoex @scargarcia-magshotchner @stitchwrites @pygmygoat-bicyclehelmet @cle13 @aysixdy @elhotchner @directioner5life @elhotchner @loveeee2134 @preciousbabypeter @la-stuffs @stories-you-wont-hear @hotchlover @fortheloveofwonderland @lokiandhisdagger @bellanutellababyyy @dark-night-sky-99 @straightforbuckybutgayfornatasha @maltamurdock @charelletjee @kansas-reid @zephyrmonkey @spencer-reid-wonderland @spencersprettyslut @im-sure-its-fine @tvdstelenaforever @teddylupintonks @lilibet261 @kneelforloki @dirtytissuebox @almostgenerallyalways @whovian378 @cl0udyqu33n @thegettingbyp2 @averagestudent03 @the-sun-died-out @squishycalumxo

Room 405 Taglist:

@rexorangecouny @nomajdetective @halloween-is-my-nationality @spenciesprincess @hoely-scripture @gspenc @princesssmooshie @loveeee2134 @reidslefteyebrow @this-is-doctor-and-its-calm @hotchandspencearedilfs @barbietiingz @riverjane-d @2-gay-possums-in-a-trench-coat @simplyparker @thebloomingeagle @pygmygoat-bicyclehelmet @fangirling-galore @randomhoex @drspencerreid80 @kbakery@fortheloveofwonderland @athenabrown @yukachankyu @matthew-gray-gubler-lover @baciamisottolalucedicentostelle @athenabrown @theforgottenwinter @parkerreidnorth @elhotchner

236 notes · View notes

jades-typurriter · 1 month

Text

Filling In for the Boss

Something I wrote for my bestie Bowsiosaurus involving my own cast of OCs. Vee enjoys the scenario of finding verself having simply REPLACED an existing character, and experiencing reality catching up with the change and making ver "fit" into that character's spot. This time vee replaced one of my characters! I hope you enjoy that process, as well as getting to see more of the Lapras Lounge =^w^=

CW: Big Lady TF

Here's a little art vee did, as an eye-catch for ny'all <3

Bowsie, not for the first time, and likely not for the last, awoke in a room that wasn’t vers.

An unfamiliar alarm clock was what roused the little sea serpent from ver slumber; the second giveaway was just how dark it was. Usually, in ver own room, there was at least some light leaking in through the window. As vee slithered out from under the covers—the mattress was a lot stiffer than vee was used to, vee noticed—and felt around the room, vee followed a tiny sliver of sunlight that traced the edge of a large windowsill. Pulling back the thick, heavy crushed-velvet curtains, vee found verself looking out at the skyline of a large city: skyscrapers in the distance, a busy street a few stories beneath ver feet, and the sun hanging low in the sky, casting a hazy yellow glow over the world.

Well, vee thought to verself, I guess that’s one clue as to whose life I’ve stumbled into this time. They must be well-off to afford a place like this. Ver eyes swept across the now-illuminated room—it wasn’t opulent, but it was spacious, and in a high-rise in what looked like a downright metropolis. The covers were thin, but quite soft, and embroidered with tasteful geometric designs that reminded Bowsie of the sorts of fabrics vee saw in movies from the 1920’s. That told them something about the owner’s tastes, but…

What kind of person sets an alarm for six o’clock in the afternoon? Vee wondered. At least vee woke up on time for whatever this person’s schedule looked like. Now the only question was, what did vee have to go and do on their behalf?

Vee decided vee would start looking for clues in the closet. Vee jittered slightly as vee approached what looked like a walk-in—yet another sign that this was somebody with a bit of money, and one who cared about looking respectable, at that. This part was always something of a thrill; it wasn’t so much that vee was invading somebody’s privacy, doing something that should’ve been “off-limits”. After all, it’s not like there was anybody around whose privacy could be violated. Once Bowsie showed up, it was only a matter of time before it was ver personal spaces, anyway!

No, more than that, it was the suspense of getting an idea of who vee was about to become. It didn’t help that vee had a knack for being transported into the lives of older… larger… very, very attractive women. The thought that vee would cease to be verself in as quickly as a few hours, and be someone much more experienced, much more confident instead… it never failed to send butterflies fluttering through ver light-scaled tummy.

Vee reached ver stubby paw toward the handle—one of the last times vee would be seeing it, vee faintly registered—and slid the door open to find a large, neatly-organized collection of professional wear. Pantsuits, blazers, pencil skirts, a handful of nightgowns—all, as vee had hoped predicted, several sizes too big for ver as vee was now. Was she some kind of executive? A politician? This was certainly modest housing for ver idea of a CEO, and not quite as secure as vee would expect for someone in a high-profile position, so vee didn’t quite think that was it. Still, it was clear that she was the boss of something, and that she not only had the cash to amass a collection of formalwear like this, but good reason for it to see frequent use. Vee was really going to have to fake it till vee made it, this time around…

Vee reached up again and unhooked one of the simpler, more modest outfits from the rack: a blouse, a straight skirt, and a pair of pumps. While most of the time, vee didn’t need to cover much to stay modest, that didn’t tend to stay true as a day like this progressed, and vee could tell by the size of this woman that there would be a lot for vee to cover. Laying it out on the bed and closing the door behind ver, vee ambled out of the room in search of something a bit more actionable as far as what vee’d be responsible for this evening.

The entryway to the apartment had a number of prominently-displayed pieces of memorabilia along the walls, as well as a few upholstered seats. Whoever owned the place, it was apparently where she hosted guests, or at least was the first thing she wanted them to see if they ever stopped briefly in. Most of them were autographed photographs of a number of people that Bowsie didn’t recognize: a stout Purugly who oozed self-confidence even from the faded glossy paper on which she was pictured; a slender, graceful Altaria featured on a framed piece of instant-development film; a Floatzel, in full color rather than the sepiatone or yellowed paper from the 60’s or 80’s, whose headshot looked like it could’ve been printed yesterday. A further look around confirmed this—their debut posters were mounted in mock marquis frames, like the advertisements outside a movie theater, and the Floatzel’s first performance was someplace called the “Lapras Lounge” just a couple years ago.

Was this woman some kind of… talent agent? It’d make sense for someone like that to live in the middle of the city, and vee supposed it would make decent money. If the Lounge belonged to her, it would also explain the scale of her wardrobe—a Lapras could get up to five hundred pounds! Though, Bowsie had dealt with enough older women to know never to bring up a fact like that to one of their faces (even if vee did find the fact to be very fun). In any case, now all vee had to do was figure out where the Lounge was! Or at least, how to get in touch with one of the employees… The Floatzel seemed like a safe bet.

A small table near the door held most of her day-to-day necessities: a purse, her cell phone (plugged in somewhere apart from her room—she must have had some firm boundaries between her personal life and her “day” job), a pair of reading glasses, so on and so forth. Vee unlocked the phone, pausing as vee realized that certain, habitual things were already slipping into ver mind. Vee really didn’t have much time to get everything in order, did vee? Of course, once everything went through and they fully took over for this woman, vee would just handle everything exactly as she would, but the both of them would be late if vee didn’t get the show on the road now. Collecting verself, vee began scrolling through the phone’s contacts until vee saw one that matched the name on the poster: Eleanor Ángeline. The phone rang a few times, then clicked through to the other end.

“Donna?” came a silky voice on the other end. “You don’t usually call last-minute like this. Is the program different tonight?”

“H-hi, um, Eleanor,” the serpent haltingly replied, struggling to keep ver voice from coming out with the tone of a question. Vee cleared ver throat and tried again: “I just wanted to ask, how were you planning on getting to, to w-work? Tonight?”

“I was just going to drive. What, did so many VIPs decide to drop in on a moment’s notice that I won’t be able to fit?”

“Oh, no! I just—” vee fumbled around for an excuse, and spotted a way to kill two birds with one stone. “I just, was wondering! Would you be able to drive me tonight?”

“Are you feeling sick or something, Donna? You sound a bit different. Your voice keeps catching.”

“Uh—yes! Yes, I’m a little… under the weather, tonight,” vee said, craning ver neck up at the ceilings that were clearly built for someone at least twice ver height.

“Well, it’s not like you to ask for help, either, so it must be pretty bad. Are you sure you’re alright to open at eight?”

“Theeeeee… show must go on?”

“Ha! Now that sounds like you. Let me know if you want me to pick up some cold medicine or something on my way over.” The connection went quiet, and Bowsie’s shoulders relaxed. Either vee was changing a bit quicker than vee thought vee would, or vee was getting better at guessing how ver “host” usually acted. Either way, vee knew vee had to be ready within the hour—city traffic was never fun, and for all vee knew, Eleanor would try to pick ver up early for whatever pre-show preparation she and Donna—her name was Donna! Vee’d have to keep that in mind—usually did. Wait, she had asked whether vee could “open”... vee dearly hoped vee hadn’t gotten it backwards, and that Eleanor was the headliner to ver opening act. Too late now, though. Hopefully, if vee had to go onstage, it’d be after Donna had fully returned.

Bowsie’s confidence in ver Donna act faltered when Eleanor finally arrived. The poster didn’t do her justice—the way her dress and her fluffy tails flowed as she walked her self-assured walk made her seem as though she was always gliding through the water, right at home anywhere she went. She was pretty, too, and her voice was much nicer to listen to when it wasn’t filtered through the tinny grain of a phone line. It didn’t help that she was a head taller than Bowsie—any woman vee had to tilt ver head up to speak to was enough to kick ver heart rate up at least a notch.

The ride itself was mostly uneventful. Thankfully, Eleanor already knew the way, else Bowsie would’ve had to scramble around trying to figure out Donna’s address. Luckier still, the car was clearly made for someone Eleanor’s size. Her brow furrowed as she watched Bowsie climb into the seat—it was a comfortable fit for the little sea dragon, but surely couldn’t have accommodated Donna’s typical form. When vee was all buckled in, though, she seemed to put the thought aside, and sat down herself to start the car. The one exception to the calm ride—as calm as Bowsie could keep verself, silently hoping that Eleanor wouldn’t as her maybe-boss anything too important that Bowsie hadn’t figured out yet—was when she spoke up a few minutes away from their destination.

“Hey, Donna,” she hazarded, apparently unsure of herself. It was a strange look on her, even for someone who had only known her for a half an hour.

“Y-yes?”

“I’m gonna be honest with you: I know you said it wasn't happening, but I psyched myself out a little bit thinking about a crowd full of big names, earlier. I don’t think I’d freeze up or anything, but it’d sure be a lot more stressful to go out in front of them. Do you… do you think I’m ready for that sort of thing? Talent scouts and other artists?”

Bowsie froze. Mercifully, Eleanor could only bring herself to glance over in ver direction—it was as though she was as afraid of the answer as Bowsie was of getting it wrong. That, and she had to keep her eyes on the road. It gave the dragon a little breathing room, but it still wasn’t much time to think. Vee would have to word this very carefully.

“How much have you practiced, Eleanor?” Eleanor took it as rhetorical, but Bowsie was honestly relieved just to be able to ASK a question at this point.

“Years.”

“So wouldn’t you say you’ve prepared a whole lot?”

“Yeah, I know I have. You know I have,” she said, wrongly. “But it still feels like I don’t have it down. Sometimes I feel more like an actor than a singer, ahah.” Bowsie chuckled too, trying to sound more reassuring than awkward.

“Well, if it helps at all, I know how it feels to pretend you’re somebody you’re not.”

“Really? You? Donna?”

“Mhm,” said Bowsie. “Eventually, it’ll just… It’ll just come to you. Like you knew it all along. It’ll just click into place and you’ll feel like a whole new person, but you’ll still be the same one you’ve always been. You’ll just know who that person is.”

“You make it sound so simple. I guess you’re right, though, that it’s almost like muscle memory… Eventually, you practice so much, it’s like you can’t not have the skills you need. Like riding a bike, right? And you just gotta… have faith that it’ll be there when you need it. It’s not like it’ll go anywhere, right? Just gotta… get used to the feeling.”

“You won’t even second-guess it, soon enough!”

“Ha!” Eleanor barked another little laugh. “I sure hope not. I’m gonna have to really put my game face on tonight, I think. But thank you, Donna.”

Bowsie nodded, then turned to face the window, hoping that Eleanor didn’t notice how much ver shoulders relaxed as soon as the attention was off ver. That was certainly one of the closer calls; it was rare vee had to outright guess ver way through a conversation, let alone such a sensitive one!

When they finally pulled up to the Lounge, Eleanor circled around to the back and parked her car in the rear. They only had about 45 minutes before opening, and Eleanor had to get ready; she got out of the car and walked up a few steps into a backdoor. Through it, Bowsie could see what looked like the trappings of a dressing room: a mirror, a dresser, some clothes, and curtains along one of the walls. Best not to follow her in there, then. Thankfully, she was already gone, and didn’t see ver turning a darker shade of blue at the thought.

Instead, vee tried the other door; one of the keys in Donna’s purse opened it for ver, leading ver into an office full of chic furniture and slightly-more-dated fixtures. Several pads of paper sat beside a dusty computer monitor; a rolodex sat on the corner of the desk. Before vee could get too good of a look around, though, vee heard a distant thumping, and left to investigate. Passing through a wide-open restaurant floor, a bar to ver left and the stage and a few rows of tables to ver right, vee approached the source of the sound: an agitated-looking Snubbull woman pounding on the tall, glass double-doors.

“Excuse me,” she cried as Bowsie unlocked the door to speak to her, “are you the manager? I’ve got a flier here that says you all open at 7 PM. I’ve been waiting here for over FIFTEEN MINUTES!”

Bowsie blinked at her, still poking ver head out from halfway behind the door. Given that Donna had the keys to the place, vee assumed that she was the manager—that vee was the manager, now—but vee wasn’t quite sure what this woman wanted from ver? Vee was pretty sure she was wrong about the opening time, too. Maybe it was the wrong day of the week, or maybe the flier was just outdated, but vee was pretty sure that Eleanor knew more about the schedule than this lady did. At the very least, she knew more than Bowsie!

“Mmmmmay I see the flier?” vee asked, forcing a polite tone.

“Oh, you need the flier now? It’s your restaurant, don’t you know when it’s supposed to open?!”

“I just, thought there might have been a mistake—”

“So you’re calling me ILLITERATE now. What WONDERFUL service!” Okay, what was her problem? Bowsie couldn’t tell whether this was genuinely about the time—she seemed entitled enough or that to be the case—or if she was just looking for a problem. Vee rubbed the bridge of ver nose, trying not to show too much frustration.

“I, okay, I’m very sorry, ma’am.” She huffed and crossed her arms. Apparently, the customer service voice was what she wanted to hear, but she didn’t seem satisfied. “We still don’t open until 8 PM, but can we offer you a drink once we do open?” She opened her mouth, probably to say something about how she should HOPE a bar would offer her a drink. “On the house! Uh, of course.”

Her lip curled, showing off one of her stubby little teeth in an obstinate snarl. After a moment scowling that way, though, it seemed to be enough to placate her. She threatened to “ask for the manager again” if she wasn’t served promptly when she came back, then stormed off down the street. Bowsie pitied whoever’s business she was going to patronize—be patronizing in, really—but was glad vee didn’t have to deal with her anymore. Vee groaned under ver breath, shuffling ver way back inside and toward the office; vee still wasn’t quite sure what it was vee was supposed to be doing at the Lounge.

Across from the door to Donna’s office was a wall of shelves, capped with a file cabinet adjacent to her desk. Given the state of the PC, and the organized but intimidatingly-large piles of paper surrounding it, Bowsie figured that any indication as to recent business would be more likely written down by hand than typed out into a text file or a spreadsheet. Vee sighed; that would make it much more of a pain to track down… Vee understood why someone older would want to do things with pen and paper, between old habits and the difficulty of keeping up with the nuances of ever-changing software menus, but honestly, just having a search function makes it more than worth it compared to all this!

Still, as vee shuffled through papers, poking ver nose over the edge of one of the drawers and rifling through sheets of paper with their fingertips, vee couldn’t deny the appeal. There was something satisfying about having the fruits of your organizational work in ver fins, and sometimes it felt like ver brain latched onto things better if vee had a physical location to attach to them. Plus, something about the system Donna used just… clicked! It made it easy to find the sorts of things they were wondering about—inventory, schedules, order forms for food and drinks. Luckily, the Lounge was probably stocked for at least tonight, so vee wouldn’t have to figure all this out right away. Vee had plenty of time to keep sifting through all this and familiarizing themself with it.

Well, vee would have, if vee wasn’t interrupted by an airy voice from over ver shoulder.

“Pardon the intrusion—” she began.

“GRAWAWA!” The poor sea critter jumped, whirling around as papers fluttered from ver fins.

“Ah. Sorry to startle you.” Before ver was… something in the shape of a Gardevoir, with skin the color of the night sky, arrayed in shimmering skirts that twinkled as brightly as its smokey, wispy tiara.

“How, um! How did you get in here? I thought I was the only one who was supposed to have the keys.”

“Are you supposed to have those keys?” She asked. Her tone wasn’t accusatory; more matter-of-fact than anything. “You don’t seem like you’re from around here, little one.”

“O-oh! You can tell?” Vee paused. “Um, how?”

“Well… I’m not from around here, either. I don’t think it’s quite the same, but I can see things most people can’t.” She glided across the floor, leaning down toward Bowsie. “You happened to catch my eye.” Those eyes, burning like stars, scanned Bowsie up and down; it wasn’t the same look of confusion as had crossed Eleanor’s face earlier, but more like the way somebody appraises a painting, or ponders a puzzle. “Where’s Donna?”

“I… Hm. I haven’t really thought about that.” When the Gardevoir cocked an eyebrow at ver, vee put ver fins up defensively. “GRAWAWI didn’t DO anything to her! Just to be clear! I think I technically am her, now? Or at least, I’m in her spot. So to speak.” She squinted; one of her hands went from where it rested, crossed in front of her chest, and rubbed her chin instead.

“...That does seem to be the case,” she finally concluded. “Interesting! I haven’t seen anything like that before.”

“Do you see other strange things often?”

“Well, I don’t mean to boast, but I might be the strangest thing you run into here. I’m something of a… bedtime story. A local legend,” she giggled. “The biggest clue that you’re from somewhere else was that you weren’t immediately shocked to see me in the flesh. So to speak.”

“Who are you, then?”

“Polaris! It’s a pleasure.”

“Likewise!” vee answered, reaching up to shake her hand. “You can call me Bowties.”

“I’ll try to keep it in mind. I have a feeling you won’t be using it very much, soon.”

“Wait, how do you know about that part?”

“I’m watching space shifting around you as we speak,” the Gardevoir smirked. “Your snout didn’t have that curve to it when I came in. Your fins have gotten curlier, too!”

“GRAWAWA?!” Vee whirled around again and started digging through Donna’s purse, looking for a makeup compact or a pocket mirror or even the black screen of her cell phone. Sure enough, ver face had less of its usual roundness, now closer to the draconic shapes of a Lapras. Vee looked back at the file cabinet, and realized that vee could now comfortably see down into the drawer vee had been rummaging through. “Th… this part usually happens all at once!”

“Is that so? Well, maybe you’ll be able to enjoy the journey a bit more, this time around,” Polaris replied, a knowing tone in her voice. “I promise I’ll give you more privacy than you have so far. Evolving is a delicate matter, from what I understand! I’ll still be around, though—any Donna is a friend of mine.” With that, she simply floated out of sight. Not through a door, or even passing through a wall—she simply stepped into thin air as though there was a passageway Bowsie couldn’t see, and then she was gone, leaving ver blushing and stammering and trying to collect verself.

Maybe Polaris was right; that had been the first time anybody had been able to tell what was going on during a swap like this, and vee worried it would upset—or at the very least confuse, like with Eleanor—somebody if they saw the changes progressing more slowly than usual, too. Vee waited for a while (it was already nearly 8 PM), listening to the noise of the Lounge rising and falling. People slowly filled the restaurant—vee could hear somebody, probably one of the other employees, open the double doors properly, and the sounds of chatter, utensils clinking against porcelain, bottles being popped and drinks being poured, all drifted through the closed office door. Eventually, a hush fell over the establishment, which piqued a mixture of curiosity and concern in the sea critter.

Vee stepped quietly out of ver office and walked along the back wall. Thankfully, all eyes were on the stage; the lights had been dimmed and a spotlight had been set over a microphone in the center, drawing them all away. Vee found a place to stand by the bar, where a Shinx girl (a fair bit shorter than vee was, but vee was certain that wouldn’t have been the case a few hours ago) watched intently, patiently waiting. When Eleanor stepped out from the wings, vee watched ver eyes light up, not just metaphorically, but with every sparkle in her sequined dress reflecting in her wide, admiring eyes.

Bowsie couldn’t blame her, either: she was already a beautiful woman, but seeing her all adorned in her stagewear and moving in time with music elevated her to something that rivaled even the otherworldly Gardevoir who had just bullied ver until vee was blue in the face. Vee forgot verself more than vee already would in this situation, lost in her performance, following the flowing motions of her dress and rising with the crescendos of her voice and the house band. Vee was only shaken out of ver trans when it was the Shinx’s turn to notice how enraptured vee was.

“You all wrapped up in pride over there, Donna?”

“Oh! Well,” vee stalled, seeing how enamored the Shinx clearly was with Eleanor, not wanting to admit that vee was also admiring her. Still, a spark of familiar, maternal emotions toward the Floatzel colored ver thoughts, making it a bit easier to come up with something else to say. “Of course I am. She’s followed my advice well, don’t you think?” See? And it wasn’t even a lie! It came so naturally to ver lips.

“She really is something… I wish I had as much confidence as she did. Maybe that’d make it easier to talk to her.”

“You wanna know what I told her?” vee asked, neglecting, for Eleanor’s sake, to mention how recently it was.

“What’s that?”

“I told her,” vee began, another kernel of recollection popping inside ver brain, “you have to just make a leap of faith and go for it, trusting that you have what it takes to back it up. That’s the only way you’re ever gonna get past the ‘am I good enough’ hurdle, and once you’re over it, the doubt is never gonna slow you down again.” Of course, it wasn’t exactly what vee had told Eleanor—vee knew that Ceri needed a different kind of confidence boost entirely. Vee watched the gears turn in Ceri’s head as she mulled over the dragon’s advice, and it slowly dawned on ver that vee hadn’t found out her name secondhand, and that vee shouldn’t have any way of knowing about the Shinx’s anxieties. Whatever change was going to happen it was getting closer and closer.

“Anyway, I-I have to get back to my office and take care of a few things. You, uh, keep up the good work. I know you have what it takes every bit as much as she does!”

“Thanks, Donna,” she sighed, wistfully resting her cheek on her paw, looking back toward the stage. With the attention once again off of ver, vee scuttled back to the office as quick as vee could. It was definitely gonna cause some problems if vee finished ver changes without getting Donna’s proper clothes on!

Taking a moment to lean against the inside of the door and catch ver breath, Bowsie took stock of what was available to ver. The makeup wouldn’t really be an option; vee didn’t know how to apply it properly, let alone how Donna usually wore it. The clothes would at least be easy enough, even if vee expected them not to fit at all. Of course, vee was once again surprised by how much closer the clothes seemed to be to ver own size than they had been earlier in the evening. The sleeves were several inches too long; the skirt refused to sit snugly around ver waistline, having neither the hips nor the tummy to support the waistband; the blouse hung loosely over ver shoulders, and the chest in particular was baggy as all get-out. And yet, a mere few hours ago, none of it would have fit at all. The skirt would’ve fallen clean off, and the blouse would have felt more like a robe.

“BOSS!” came a shrill voice from the bar, interrupting Bowsie bemusedly (and more than a little bit flustered) examining verself in the mirror. With that, something in Bowsie’s mind kicked into action. Someone needed setting straight. Someone in the crew needed a problem dealt with. The only person for the job, the one with the force of personality, with the authority, necessary to run this ship, was Donna, and Donna was going to march out there and see what the emergency was.

That is, after she fixed herself in the mirror. She pulled the cuffs of her blazer down so they sat properly at the ends of her wrists. She tucked her blouse into her skirt. She adjusted her blouse, smoothing out the wrinkles and straining to get one of the buttons in place around her chest—had she accidentally grabbed one of her older, smaller tops? What a pain. She exhaled as much as she could (not that it made a major difference, with the rigidity of her shell), and pulled firmly to fasten the damn shirt. She wasn’t gonna seem very authoritative if she went out there and her buttons started flying open, now was she? She finally turned, threw open the door and marched toward the bar in the direction of Gina’s voice, the booming clack, clack, clack of her pumps heralding her approach..

“Boss,” she began, now that she didn’t have to yell across the restaurant, “this lady said she wanted to—”

“Oh,” Donna steamed. “You again.”

“I beg your pardon?” growled the Snubbull.

“Listen, miss,” Donna pushed right through her uppity routine to lay down the law. “I dunno what came over me earlier—I must’ve been feeling real generous—but if I give you an inch, that does not mean that you get to walk into my restaurant and take a mile from my staff, do you understand me?”

“The only thing I’m taking is the free drink you offered me for your incompetence—”

“What you are TAKING is an ATTITUDE, lady.” She loomed over the Snubbull, leaning down far enough that she was nearly doubled over, utterly unaware that she had had to tilt her head up to make eye contact with the bratty woman before opening earlier. “Now listen, and listen good. You can either TAKE yourself OUTSIDE, or I will TAKE you there MYSELF. Do I make myself clear?”

The Snubbull gritted her teeth, crossing her arms with so much force that Donna could see her claws digging into her shoulders through her clothes. After a staredown that lasted a good ten seconds, the woman finally buckled. She hmphed, just as she had earlier, and huffed her way right out the double doors. Derrick offered her a sarcastic nod as she passed by the two of them; Rhodney remained as stoic as ever.

“Thanks for calling me over, Gi. I had half a mind to find the bitch myself just to take the drink back from her. Glad she gave me an excuse.”

“You know I live to tell the customers to go fuck themselves, boss!” the Maractus chirped, sashaying away to tend to the next happy patron at the bar.

“Oh, Donna!” Ceri said, emerging from the kitchen. “Did you, uh, change clothes?”

“Yeah, I was feeling sick earlier, don’t remember most of this morning. I must’ve shown up in my at-home clothes, but I was handling things around here basically since the moment I got in, so I didn’t have time to slip into something nicer before Eleanor’s show. Don’t mention that to her, though, hey?”

The Shinx mimed zipping her snout shut and throwing away the key before carrying the order in her other paw out to a table. Donna turned and walked along the edges of the main room again, this time making for the entry to the backstage area rather than to her office. She knocked twice as she gently opened the door.

“Eleanor!” she cheered, spreading her arms. “Look at you, you little starlet, what did I tell you?”

“You told me to trust myself, Donna,” she said, sighing and getting up from her seat in front of the vanity to give her mentor a hug. “Trusting you made it a bit easier.”

“Well, you’re not quite there, then,” she joked, “but you’ll learn soon enough. One of these days you’ll impress yourself as much as you impress me.”

“Thank you,” the Floatzel said, stepping back again. “I mean it.”

“I mean it! Now, listen,” Donna continued, “I really hate to pat you on the back and leave, but I think I’m calling it early tonight. My head’s still a bit foggy from earlier, and I don’t think my car is in the lot. I’m not sure how I got in, but I’m gonna have to call a taxi to get out.”

“Oh, I—” Eleanor began, before abruptly stopping, her train of thought seemingly derailed. “Huh. I’m not sure, either.”

“Well, no harm, no foul, huh? You drive safe tonight, sweetheart. Tell the boys they’re in charge—no mercy!”

“You got it,” Eleanor chuckled.

“Oh, and if you know anybody who needs some 4XL women’s clothes, let me know! I gotta get rid of these,” she said, tugging very carefully on her blouse, taut like a spring. “It’s like I forgot how to dress myself today. Imagine—a girl my size forgetting just how much she grows!”

10 notes · View notes

stagbeetleboy · 4 months

Text

I found a very nice blazer with blue velvet details and the color of the lining is so beautiful.

This is why I don’t care if I’m technically buying women’s clothes. I’m dedicated more to the drip.

12 notes · View notes

addictedbespoke · 1 year

Text

Women Purple Velvet Luxury Tuxedo Suit Custom Made Two Piece Satin Shawl Lapel Prom Wedding Bridesmaid Dinner Wear Coat Wide Leg Trouser

The ADDICTEDbespoke

We are in the field of Customized Suit/Sherwani from last more than 10 years. We do all kinds of custom orders for Men, Women & Kids. These are our completely custom handmade suits. Each suit is crafted for an individual customer based on his tastes and lifestyle. We also offer matching accessories like Lapel Pins, Bow Ties, Narrow Ties, Broad Ties, Cufflinks, Socks, Shoes, Belt and Pocket Squares, etc. with a little extra cost, to make out a complete package for you (additional cost will be applied). We are always up to suit your demands and make something special and unique for your custom order! Please contact us if you have any questions about your order. This is a made-to-order garment.

#pant suit #suit for women #womens fashion #custom suits #wedding suit #gift for her #women's suit #cocktail attire #prom suit #velvet pants #velvet blazer women #purple suit #women's clothing

2 notes · View notes

kent-farm · 11 months

Text

—Emmanuelle Chriqui as Lana Lang wearing this Zadig & Voltaire Womens Voici Stretch Velvet Blazer (in Wine; Sold Out), Superman and Lois, “Collision Course”

#Superman and Lois Wardrobe #Emmanuelle Chriqui #Lana Lang #Lana's Closet #Zadig & Voltaire #3.10 Collision Course #Superman & Lois

10 notes · View notes

dontyoutrytocalmmedown · 7 months

Text

saladandballads: Souleiado red velvet “CHLOE” jacket blazer with black details Made in France Originally €459 or $486 Market size T 46 Shown on a women’s size small 5’6”

#depop

2 notes · View notes

heysolikeummyeahyaknow · 9 months

Text

Ok iv got too many life stories in my head. So here’s another one.

On a Friday night I went to the casino for the first time. I was going to meet my friends there at 9pm. I got there at 9:30 already stressed out of my mind because iv got work early the next morning and I’m late and I don’t know where to meet them. And to top it off I got my blood curse earlier that day

I see the Golden Arches of a McDonald’s sign and hallelujah I have not only a land mark but also an excuse to get myself a cheeky happy meal coz I’m a lil hungry.

Boy did I live to regret that.

Now I’m dressed to the nines. Nothing about my outfit is saying straight and wants to talk to you. I’ve got a burgundy velvet blazer, blue hair, dr martens, and bleeding heart dangly earrings. I’m also wearing my favourite scowl as well because I am this close to throwing hands with anyone who looks at me funny.

I go to the counter and there’s a guy there who is clearly off his face. Slurred words and can’t stand up straight. He tells the cashier that he’ll pay for whatever I want as well.

“I say no thank you iv got my own money. “

He says “nah go on I’ll pay for you order whatever you want. I just won it big I’ll pay for you.”

This goes back and forth a few times. I literally have my bank card on the eftpos machine while he’s handing the cashier fistfuls of cash at the same time. The poor cashier looks 13 and isn’t in the position to tell a drunk 40 something man no. So he buys my happy meal as well as an extra cheeseburger I didn’t ask for, because he just wants to be nice.

Alright fine he just want to be nice because he just won a bunch of money at the pokies. Whatever. Thank you have a great evening.

That’s not the end of it though. Far from it. Now he’s asking me to sit with him and what’s my name etc.

I tell him “I don’t have a name”.

You think that’s a pretty big fuck off I don’t want to talk to you right? You’d think that’s the end of the interaction right?

Unfortunately not.

I go collect my happy meal from the counter and walk to the other side of the shop.

He picks up his stuff and follows me and keeps saying sit down. Sit down with me come on I bought you a burger sit down and eat with me come on.

I ask him why? Why do you want me to sit down? why did you buy me stuff? Why are you doing this?

He says he’s just being nice. (But we know he’s not because he would be using buying me things as leverage to keep talking to me when I clearly do not want to)

He keeps not taking no for an answer. Every boundary I set with this guy (that I was like good job that was a good clear boundary) just gets bulldozed.

I sit down with him and start bawling my eyes out as I eat my little burger and chips. And I really sincerely hope I ruined his night. I hope I made him feel so guilty and shitty.

He’s like “why are you crying? Don’t say it was anything I did” (so he knows that he’s done wrong but doesn’t want to be told that)

I just say something like I’m on my period.

And then my saviour comes in. One of my friends who is wearing a cropped blazer, a ball gown, platform heels, pearls statement sword earrings and a corset. They are already a tall person and is now towering over us like is this guy bothering you sweetie. I take my leave and go sob in the womens bathroom for a good while before going and meeting the rest of my friend group. But god what a way to start a night.

#ew men #gay gay homosexual gay #bad brains #im crying #trauma #just girly posts #they/them #thembo #earrings #true stroy #life story

2 notes · View notes

susoriginals · 3 months

Text

Vintage Blue Blazer Velvet Collar Jacket by Bobbie Brooks Small Women's Size 8-10 Only $10.99

#vintage blazer #blue blazer #navy blazer #womens blazer #size 8 blazer #size 10 blazer #small blazer #black velvet collar #velvet collar blazer #1980s blazer #1970s blazer #womens vintage blazer #etsy #susoriginals

0 notes

dadddybangtan · 1 year

Text

Suck Torture | 01 🩸

Back Table of Contents Next

cw: bl00d, alcohol

word count: 1.6k

I remember Yeji and I's seventeen-hundredth birthday like it was yesterday. She and I celebrated like any other young adult of our kind. Dressed in our finest satins and silks, we drank wine drizzled with droplets of our parents blood. We inherited the powers in which we were entitled since our birth. And we partied as hard as we could in 1522.

Five hundred years went by in a flash. Now it's our brother's turn. Niki, while not of our bloodline, will inherit the family's powers as well. Followed by a huge party with the towns youth.

We'd been planning it for years, but all I could do, come the morning of his birthday, was pace my room and let my thoughts race in my mind. I thought about the day we accepted him into our family only seven-hundred years ago and how excited everyone was. Our family was growing and we had another heir to our legacy.

A knock on my bedroom door startled me out of my thoughts.

"Who is it?"

"You know who it is, Jinnie."

I smiled at my sister's voice and opened the door to let her in.

"The ceremony is starting soon."

"I'm well aware."

"You're nervous, aren't you?"

Yeji adapted the ability to read minds. I have that power too however, it's common for the women in our family to be better at it.

"I've been reading and researching for years, but I can't find an answer to my question."

"Hm," she hummed, sauntering about my room and settling on the victorian chair by the window, "I guess there isn't much information on passing powers onto a different vampiric bloodline."

And with that power, I never got to have a traditional conversation with her. Or keep a secret.

"Doesn't that worry you?"

"I'm sure it'll be fine," She shrugged, "Now come on, everyone's waiting."

• • •

The dining room was redecorated in deep velvet reds. A crimson cloth dressed the table with red laced plates atop of it. The glassware upgraded from simple wine glasses to hand-molded pieces. They even changed the black curtains to red. There lied an elaborately detailed wineglass at the top center of the table.

Sitting at the head of the table was Niki. He wore a regal white jacket with golden accents. His pitch black hair was slicked back, so his face was clear. His moles decorated his face, as they always did but, in that moment, he looked uncharacteristically innocent. Granted, he wasn't known for misbehaving, but he definitely looked more angelic without his hair hiding his eyes.

To his right was my father, dressed similarly in inverted colors. Instead of white and gold, he wore red and black. It was a sign of his age and stature. On the left was mother, gorgeously decked in a long, deep red gown and black satin gloves. She made sure not to overshadow my brother, wearing something simple yet brilliantly elegant.

Next to mother was me. I felt underdressed in my turtleneck and rose imprinted blazer. And across from me was Yeji, simply beautiful like mother, in a corseted gown.

Down the table was a line of six council members. They'd traveled far to supervise the transfer of my brother's powers.

"Niki," Father's powerful voice said, "When you joined our family, no one was more excited for this moment than me. We knew you'd be a wonderful extension of our legacy. Your mother and I trust you'll use your powers wisely."

"Do you trust yourself to use your powers wisely?" Mother questioned.

"I know I will," Niki said, bowing before continuing, "Because you raised me to."

My mothers eyebrows pulled together in delight.

"Then let us continue." Father said, looking over his shoulder.

A servant emerged from behind him with a red velvet pillow in his hands. On top was a gothic black athame with a long, stainless steel blade. It was the same exact one from Yeji and I's ceremony. He circled behind Niki and to mother. Once she picked the dagger up from the pillow, everyone at the table stood in respect.

"My son," She started, holding the knife upright in her power hand, "I humbly grant you with my power. Do you accept?"

"I do."

She nodded before taking the knife to her palm. She caressed it carefully before closing her eyes and dragging it down. Her hand hovered over the glass as three drops of blood fell inside. Immediately after, another servant came and quickly wrapped her hand in gauze. And another one wiped the knife clean.

"My son," My father exhaled, "I humbly grant you with my power. Do you accept?"

"I do."

Father grabbed the athame with his power hand as well. He held his hand, palm up, in front of him. He laid the blade flat on his palm before rotating it ninety degrees. I heard the brief separation of skin as he dramatically slashed his hand open. Yeji cringed, but mother wasn't phased. He then let three drops of blood trickle into the glass. The same person who wrapped mother's hand wrapped fathers. The blade was wiped clean and taken away on the pillow.

Another person came forward with a pitch black wine bottle void of any labels. They carefully unscrewed the top and the bitter aroma filled the room. They slowly poured the blood red wine into the main glass before filling everyone else's.

Niki grabbed the full glass in his shaky hand and brought it up to his heart.

"I drink of my family," His voice was unstable and nervous, "And accept this power with grace and dignity to bring honor to the Hwang Family name."

He peered into the darkness of the wine, studying its black abyss of immortal power. I'm not sure I want this yet is what I heard when I focused hard enough. I'm not ready.

I wanted to object, tell him he didn't have to, but when I looked over at father, I could see the scathing disapproval on his face.

Don't you dare.

I held my breath as I watched Niki raise his glass above his head. Everyone followed, raising their glasses as well. He then lowered the glass to his shivering lips and hesitantly drank its contents to completion.

Once he was done, the rest of us took a sip of wine too.

He set the empty glass on the table with a muffled thud. His eyes were closed as he caught his balance on the edge of the table.

"It might feel a bit uncomfortable," Mother warned, "You may feel the liquid course in your veins."

Niki leaned into the sound of her soothing voice. I watched his skin get drained of any color it had left, the only pigment being his purple veins. He inhaled a sharp breath and his head leaned back.

A gust of wind hit us all when Niki sprouted wings from his back and levitated above us.

"Oh my." A council member whispered.

"I've never seen anything like this." Another beside me said.

"Father, what's happening?" Yeji asked, fear engrained in her vocal color.

Everyone was frightened, but father remained gleefully engulfed in the anomaly. His eyes sparkled with wonder at the winged creature.

"You're looking at abundant vampiric power, Yeji, something you and your brother won't experience for many, many years."

She looked at me in disbelief and all I could do was mirror her.

Niki's head slowly panned down. His eyes shot open to reveal glowing red orbs and his mouth spread into a smile that unveiled his sparkling fangs.

He began to descend to our level once again, and the glow in his eyes faded to a simple glint of red. His skin even began to revert to a normal paleness. Once his feet hit the ground, his wings disappeared into his back. He looked around at all of us, eyes bouncing between everyone anxiously.

"How do you feel, hun?" Mother asked, carefully placing her better hand on his shoulder.

"I feel... fine."

"You tore straight through your jacket." Father laughed, looking at Niki's back.

Niki chuckled as well and that warranted everyone else to loosen up. It didn't quite work on me.

"That concludes the ceremony. Thank you all for your company," Father declared, "Let us all let the staff prepare the banquet hall for the ball tonight."

"No one calls it that anymore, dad." Yeji says.

Everyone began to disperse, Yeji, Niki and mother all leaving together and gushing about Niki's wings. The council members filed out neatly, but one stayed behind to talk to my father. I faintly overheard them talking about the ceremony before I pretended to follow the rest of my family.

Shortly after, the short council member passed me.

"Excuse me." I said, getting his nervous attention.

"Y-yes?"

"You said you'd never seen anything like that," He nodded, "Why do you think that is?"

"It's rare for a young vampire to inherit powers from someone outside of their bloodline. It usually occurs between arranged wealthy marriages to enhance the chance at an even more powerful heir," He pushed up the bridge on his glasses, "In the case of your brother, however, it seems he's accepted your parents power, but the ritual might've awakened the powers of his biological parents as well."

"Really?"

"That's just a theory."

"Well, surely you've supervised adoptive powers before?"

"Of course." He scoffed.

"Then why was my brother so out of the ordinary?" I interrogated, towering over him a little more than before.

"I-I'm not sure."

A frustrated sigh left my body. He proved himself useless.

"Thank you for your time." I dipped my chin down to mimic a bow.

I walked to catch up with Niki, who was walking alone now.

"Alright, let's get you ready for the ball."

#kpop angst #kpop fanfiction #vampire fanfiction #vampire au #hyunjin fanfic #hyunjin x beomgyu #kpop au #enhypen fanfiction #ni ki enhypen #hwang yeji #dadddybangtan

9 notes · View notes