frostyhelltime

[frostyhelltime]

Lesbian Velvette truther since day 1

I fucking won

[frostyhelltime]

This feels illegal. I have a still plastic wrapped album from the 1950s that I'm about to play. Like it's mine. I bought it. Somehow this still feels illegal?? 😂😂😂

To Vox, and the shit he was probably popping off to on the dance floor! 😂😂😂

[frostyhelltime]

"It is ideas, not vested interests, which are dangerous for good or evil.”

:}

[frostyhelltime]

A Folly of a Plan

Chapter 3

AN: Secrets are coming to light, and we learn more about our elusive jazz singer this chapter. Meanwhile Alastor is becoming more comfortable with her. But is he perhaps becoming too comfortable?

Warnings: None this chapter.

It's easy for her to spend time after they say goodbye that night just thinking of what she might wear. But the more she thought about it, the more she realized she didn't really....have a dress suitable for a lavish dinner… She had casually elegant clothes for daytime, and her stage dresses for night time. But nothing much in between. It stirs her with frustration searching through her clothes until she remembers something once she's at home in her room, the majority of her clothes tossed on her bed as she inspects them.

“...Daphne?” She calls out, loud enough to be a yell, turning to see an older woman with a kind smile who is wiping her hands on her apron eventually come into her room. 

“Yes miss?” 

“Before my mom…” She pauses, chewing on her lip a moment to try and think of how to phrase it. It still burned to really think about, even now.

“...passed. Well….What I mean is…Now that I'm an adult…we're probably roughly the same size now, right?” She asks curiously, walking over to her. She’s unsure how to even phrase her question at all now that she was standing here in front of her. 

Daphne just quirks a knowing brow at her, but says nothing. Although her wise smile says it all.

“Got yourself a cute boy you want to impress in a fancy dress?”

“D-Daphne!!!” Clara practically hisses as she rushes to cover Daphne’s mouth to keep her from speaking a moment, her face such a bright red she would place her lipsticks to shame. But Daphne only seems to find this quite humorous, removing Clara’s hand so she can speak again, smile still fixed in place.

“Relax, child. I was young once too. Your father is out right now, and he won't notice one dress going missing for the night, I'm sure. Besides…I'm sure she would want you to have them anyway.” Daphne assures her by squeezing her hand once, even as Clara closes the distance and throws her arms around her and squeals, squeezing tightly. 

“Thank you! Thank you! Than-”

“Don't thank me until you successfully sneak out and in from your little date without your father finding out. Heaven knows he’s too old fashioned to understand this whole casual dating thing you youngsters are doing now.” The older woman shakes her head, as if she can't quite believe she's helping her with this. But she's had a hard time denying her of anything since she was a little girl. Why on earth would she start now?

With a blessing of sorts, she steals away to her mother’s old dressing room, looking through the dresses, running her hands across the intricate lace and beading until she finds the one she thinks would suit her best.

When the night comes Clara is careful to not arouse suspicion, carefully slipping out her window onto the roof of the first story so she can climb down the trellis on the side. Once she’s done that without damaging any of the fine beading on the dress, she lets out a breath of relief while sneaking out to meet him at a corner, away from the house where she might be spotted by her father. 

While she waits she enjoys fiddling with the intricate beading of the dress, and the way the form of the dress hugged her in all the right ways. Granted, the style that was in fashion currently was more loose and boyish…but her mother had died almost a decade ago. It was still stylish, what she was wearing…but it wasn’t what you usually saw on the younger women nowadays. Her make up was not quite as subtle as her daytime look but not quite as bombastic as her stage looks. She barely sneaks her minimal daytime makeup by her father, as strict as he is. Her current look was a nice seductive middle ground, in her opinion. She couldn't wait to see him when he first laid eyes on her tonight. Would he be impressed? If he had been surprised by her daytime look, perhaps she can surprise him just one more time?

Alastor’s car pulls up, quiet and unassuming to the corner. He almost doesn’t recognize her at first, with her hair appearing to be short, in a bob. He almost asks her if she cut her hair just for their date but when he looks much closer, he can see she’s managed to tuck her hair in a way to appear like she has a bob, but she hadn’t actually cut her hair at all. How clever. A way to stay with the times despite what she had casually mentioned about her father and his strict standards.

However the location he picks her up from has got him curious. What exactly was she hiding having him pick her up at this corner as opposed to her house? Is he not the only one with a secret here? How troublesome. Despite his curiosities, he’s ever the gentleman, getting out to open the car door for her as she greets him eagerly. Once she’s comfortable and they’re actually on the way, he pops the question that’s been pestering him at the back of his mind since he found out where he was picking her up from.

“You look beautiful, of course. Although I expected nothing less…however I’m curious…” He trailed off at first, glancing to her briefly before bringing his eyes back to the road, tapping the steering wheel in time with the music playing on the radio so as to not seem truly pressed. “Why did you want me to meet you by the corner? You aren’t ashamed to be seen with me, are you?” He means for his voice to come across as simple innocent curiosity, but there is still just a little bit of a bitter bite to the way he says the word ‘ashamed’.

But as soon as the question leaves his mouth, her smile drops to shock and her gloved hands are immediately covering her mouth to contain a gasp as she vehemently shakes her head.

"Oh gosh no!” She spits out once she takes her hands away from her mouth. She looks absolutely crestfallen to think he could have gotten that impression…although she understands how, when he lays it out like that.

“Oh I can see how you might have thought...no! Certainly not! I just didn't want you to have to deal with my father on the first date.” She says quickly before she takes a deep breath and tries to collect her thoughts to coherently explain. She musses with her hair as she thinks, playing with a curl hanging by her face. “He...uh...can be a little....controlling." She laughs nervously, trying to figure out how to explain her father without going into much detail. That was a whole other can of worms that she really didn't want to think about right now.

"At the very least I'm supposed to make sure you really like me before I subject you to my high maintenance father. If I introduced him first, I would never get a second date with you!" She laughs, waving the idea off.

That at least has his shoulders relaxing as he continues to drive. He’s not entirely sure why he cares whether or not she’s ashamed of him if he’s just using her though. He stays quiet for now, to let her keep talking since she clearly has more on her mind to get out.

"And I...well." She huffs a moment, putting her hands in her lap now, fidgeting with her hands. He thinks she has quite a bad habit of fidgeting when she’s nervous, he’s noticed. 

"I quite like the time we've spent together even before this date so I will say I wanted to try and…stack the deck to try and have a better shot at a second date....I didn't...I didn't want you to think I'm ashamed. I'm certainly not." She smiled at him now, her face so earnest and true it's clear she isn't trying to hide anything. There was something about her expressions that showed she wore her heart on her sleeve. Alastor hazards a guess that she would be terrible at poker.

He is curious what she meant by ‘controlling’ in regards to her father, but that hardly seemed like a first date dinner conversation. 

“I understand that. But you don’t have to worry. I hardly believe you could scare me away.” He assures her, turning his head to look at her a moment as he parked, making sure to lock eyes with her and smile to try and assuage her nerves. He certainly wasn’t scared of the man, or any man, really. But Clara seemed worried enough for the both of them. Perhaps the man was just overprotective of his daughter? He could understand that. It’s only within the past few years a girl could go on a date with a guy without her parents there. It’s probably a lot for the older generation to get used to, he thinks. It must be so much more difficult to be a father to a daughter, than a son…

Clara lets out a large breath, placing a hand over her heart in relief that she hadn’t offended him. She would have felt exceptionally terrible if she had made him feel bad when he went to the trouble of taking her to such a nice place… If nothing else, how genuinely awful she clearly feels tells him she isn’t lying.

The restaurant itself was adorned with crystal chandeliers, wrought iron details, and rich mahogany furniture. There are mirrors with ornate frames, and velvet drapes in deep burgundy to add a touch of opulence with romantic candlelit tables. Truly quite a decadent first date location.

“Wow. You didn’t have to take me to such a nice place. This feels like too much for little ole me.” Clara says in a hushed tone with wide eyes as they walked in, sticking close by his side. But Alastor just smiles at her, a twinkle in his eyes as he repeats her earlier words.

“What can I say…I wanted to…stack the deck to have a better shot at a second date.” He teases her, leaning closer to her as he takes out her chair for her once they reach their table.

She looks at him with such endearing and warm eyes, a little struck with how sweet his honesty is at how much he likes her as well. She doesn't even mind him playfully poking fun at her earlier words. Yes…he decides she would be terrible at poker.

"Tell me some more things about yourself. Like what you like to do outside the lounge, and singing." He says once they're both comfortable in their chairs, food ordered and relaxing now.

"Hm. Well. I like to write, read books, sew...those sorts of things. I know piano already. But I think it would be fascinating to take up the harp, or perhaps the violin! I also like helping out at soup kitchens and the like for the needy.” She says, fingers tracing the bulb of the glass she held. “My mother always said the only time you should look down on a man is when you're extending your hand to help pull him up." She smiled sweetly as she thinks back on fond memories. 

"I also like going to the theatre and such…That's what I like to do.” She says before sighing, her shoulders slumping slightly. 

“However I often find myself just sitting still and looking pretty and not speaking unless spoken to as a bunch of old men talk about business and politics." She sighs, rolling her eyes slightly as she slumps back into her seat a moment, despite her numerous etiquette lessons.  "I don't understand the point of being pushed to get such an education if they don't even let me use it." She mutters, shaking her head a moment, although it’s still loud enough for him to hear.

"...That's part of why I was so happy when you asked me what I thought of your segment the last time we talked."  She’s sitting up straight again, her smile having just a touch of self-consciousness to it, but she still has a bit of her normal confidence.

"But I know overall I'm quite lucky in life so I can't complain." She chuckled before he can respond, waving off any concerns.

The brunette man took a sip of his drink and then put down the glass, resting his chin on the back of his hand as he listened to what Clara had to say. He thought she had some classy interests, clearly very self-assured in herself and her desires, but he wondered why she was not allowed to speak unless spoken to. Just who was her father, exactly? He couldn't help but wonder more about her life. What had begun as a cover to get rid of pesky rumors was turning into quite a fun mystery to solve in his spare time.

There was clearly more to Clara Massou than what meets the eye. She did come from money, that much was obvious. But there was still so much to uncover, he just knew it.

"What about you, Mister Handsome Radio Man? Surely you must do something besides sweeping girls off their feet and looking for guest stars?" She teases lightly, leaning a bit forward to be closer to him.

Alastor laughs at Clara’s teasing comment. “Me? Well believe it or not I’m rather boring. I visit my mother and sometimes will help her cook. I like to read, listen to jazz, go to the theatre, dance, and I may indulge in some gossip here and there.” He says, tilting his head from side to side playfully as he mentions the gossip especially.

It's really unfair how attractive he was, even doing small and simple motions, she thinks. She laughs sweetly at how humble he is, covering her mouth politely while doing so.

“Oh, and believe it or not I enjoy hunting.” He says, flashing his pearly whites as he smiled at her. Alastor wasn’t exactly lying to Clara either, hunting is considered acceptable especially since people would assume that he means animals and not…well…people. But details…details…

"Oh but that doesn't sound boring at all! All of that sounds simply delightful. I loved cooking with my mother. Perhaps you could make a dish your mother would make you, and I could make some desserts my mother was always proud of?" She asks, suggesting a possible future date, should he be willing.

"I also wouldn't mind going to theatre shows with you, and we already know how I feel about your dancing." Her laugh is jovial as she leans back, almost but not quite embarrassed by how much she enjoys his company.

But her eyes also light up when he mentions hunting, of all things. "Oh how delightful! I'd love to learn how to hunt sometime if you'd be willing to show me! My father says it's far too garish of a hobby for a woman but I think it's important to know where our food comes from and how we get it so we can appreciate it more! Plus I think it's important to know how to take care of myself. Who knows? I may not always have my father's money at my disposal and I refuse to be helpless." Her smile is still light as she swirls the liquid in her glass, despite the subject. The more she talked to him the more her lips loosened. An effect Alastor was aware he had on many people. He was delighted to see he hadn’t lost his touch.

He freezes a moment when she asks to go on a hunt with him though, knowing she’s completely unaware of what she’s truly asking.

“You would be interested in hunting?” He broaches carefully, trying to see if there’s a way to dissuade her. He could hunt animals, but he was far more skilled at hunting…bigger prey.

"I've never been afraid of getting my hands dirty." She assures him, although what she envisions and what Alastor does are two very different things.

"Well." Alastor says and clears his throat fixing his tie a little. "I'm not going to say that you shouldn't come because you are a woman but it is rather messy with the blood and the guts and all that…but if you truly want to join me and learn, then I will take you to hunt some deer." He offers cautiously, as if he’s still thinking about changing his mind.

“Oh I can’t wait! I promise not to be a burden!” She laughs excitedly as she speaks quickly, assuring him. She didn’t want him to think he would have to babysit her the whole time.

Meanwhile, Alastor felt a little…conflicted hearing her laugh. Over the many weeks he had been spending time with her practically daily at the lounge, he hadn’t really…noticed her laugh as anything special. At least he didn’t think he had. Had it always sounded so…nice? He pushes the thought from his head, although he does note he wants to hear the sound again.

He’s still caught off guard by her willingness to hunt, a rarer activity for a woman of the upper class to be interested in. She was just full of surprises…

Clara can't help but bite her lip slightly, trying to hide her smile just a little bit to not show how happy she was that he had agreed so easily to another date. 

He seems much more relaxed than when she sees him otherwise. Of course he always seemed relaxed, but there was something...pleasantly genuine about him tonight compared to the way he acted at the lounge. She brushes it off, and simply chalks it up to him being nervous about wanting to impress her possibly, just as she had been nervous while wanting to impress him.

"I'll make sure to wear something that can get messy. Just...please be patient with me if I'm a little squeamish at first." She looks a little embarrassed, but she's still smiling which shows she's more than willing to attempt it, even if she looks a little silly at first. 

She can imagine herself being a little queasy at first, perhaps even scared...but she thinks she could figure it out eventually. Even if not she's sure she would enjoy him being close to her as he shows her how to do everything.

“Good. I would hate to ruin your beautiful clothes.” He gestures towards the dress she was wearing currently.

“If you don’t like it that’s completely fine. Not everyone can handle the blood.” He adds and he’s surprised at his urge to comfort her. He wondered how she would react to the death of an animal.  He would think poorly, but she’s full of so many surprises he isn’t sure at this point. 

Their date continues on and she has to admit...she really adores her time with him. He's polite and such a gentleman to her, funny, charming, and oh so intelligent. She hadn’t expected any less from her previous times with him though. She finds herself craving their next date before the first one is even done.

Once the date was over he drove her home…or rather down the street. He’s still a little skeptical about her story about her father…but he lets it go for now. No need to spoil a good time.

She’s about to turn to leave and walk back home when he reaches for her hand, eyes boring directly into hers. Her free hand is placed on her cheek to hide the flush of her cheeks when he ever so politely kisses her hand goodbye. She almost feels ashamed for hoping for a kiss on the lips in the future. Almost. But not quite. Besides, she's already over the moon anyway since he only seems to be okay with physical touch on his terms. So any given to her freely somehow feels that much sweeter, she thinks, as she tries to calm the butterflies in her stomach from the small show of affection.

—------------

As their dates continue, she finds she's able to read him a little better over time. It makes it easier for her to know when to invade his space a little to fluster him without upsetting him and when to pull back and give him space. She already thinks he looks handsome...but with a small tinge of red she knows she is the cause is? He looks absolutely delicious.

Each time they met she managed to get him to like her more and more. Over time it had begun to upset him. She hadn’t done anything wrong per say…however he was supposed to be charming her and luring her in, not the other way around. But it’s no matter. He simply assures himself that it’s just a passing fancy, like a fun new hobby. Nothing to be concerned about. He shouldn’t fault himself for enjoying the process of getting these rumors to go away.

Yet as each date came he noticed she would get closer and closer into his space. He realized that each time Clara did, he minded it less and less. She had even made him a little flustered once or twice, moving close and whispering to him coyly when she pretended the bar was too loud for him to hear her well enough. When he moved close to her when dancing, she no longer stood there stunned. She would lean in towards him as well, as if playing a game of chicken to see who would pull away first. He’s annoyed to acknowledge he’s pulled away first more often than he would like to admit. Each time she wears that same coy smile as she bats her eyelashes at him innocently, as if she’s completely unaware of her actions. Of course he gets her back, when she is the first to pull away, too nervous from how he leans over her, or whispers to her on the dance floor during slower songs. He can see the way she shivers when he drops his voice lower when they’re like that. He has no shame in using her own tactics against her. Especially when they work as well as they do.

They have grown so close in fact, that he's allowed to visit her before the speakeasy even opens, when she's getting ready in her dressing room. Although it’s caused Roy to look at Alastor a little funny whenever he sneaks through the door to go see her. Almost as if he distrusts him.

Roy is still setting up while Clara is in the back, warming up. Alastor had just left her dressing room so she could do whatever finishing touches she needed to without him distracting her, in her words. 

Roy had gotten a little behind reading the paper he grabbed on the way into work, and it laid haphazardly on the bar as he continued getting ready for opening, a cigarette hanging loosely from his lips as he checked the bottles hidden under the bar to take stock. He doesn't even notice Alastor pick the paper up, with his head buried under the bar top, taking a puff of his cigarette as he mumbles to himself about ordering more of this or that.

At first it seemed there was nothing of real interest there, but Alastor is glancing at it regardless in order to pass the time before she appears on stage. However, a section of the front page had a beautiful picture of a gorgeous blonde woman, dressed in an elegant white dress and gloves, smiling brilliantly at the camera. 

"Claire Margiela Turns Heads at Her Debutante Ball!" is what the caption reads, however something doesn't quite add up. This woman looked far more like the Clara Massou that appeared in the radio station that day.  In fact....almost...too similar.

He squints at the woman in the paper before laying it down, narrowing his eyes and looking towards the door that led to her dressing room. No, she had told him that her last name was Massou. Clara didn’t seem like someone who would lie but then again, everyone lies. He would have thought something as big as this would have come up by now after…how many months now? 

It was difficult to make Alastor angry, but a surefire way to do it was to try and play him for the fool. He snatches the paper back up and heads back through the door to her dressing room. He didn’t think this conversation could wait, not even bothering to knock as he hurries in to see her oncemore.

Clara is humming a nonsensical but still delightful tune to herself as she finishes the last touch to her makeup when she hears the door open.

"Gosh, showtime already? I didn't think I spent that long-" She's laughing before she turns around in her chair to see it's him, and furthermore, that his normally charismatic smile seemed almost...strained?

"Alastor...?" She tries cautiously, furrowing her brows in worry before the paper is placed none too gently on the vanity in front of her. She flinches from the sound but she's still a bit confused so she leans over to scrutinize it more thoroughly, and that's when she sees it and then her face goes so pale that the blush on her cheeks seems pointless.

Her head snaps up to look at his, actual panic and fear in her eyes, for a multitude of reasons as she turns in her chair to fully face him.

"I-I can explain! I promise!" She says so quickly the entire sentence almost feels like one word. She reaches for him at first but pulls her hand back, thinking better than to touch him when he was so clearly upset.

“Oh?” He asks, eyes still narrowed as he folds his arms, his foot tapping impatiently. This should be good, he thinks.

"I..." She says before sighing, trying to think of how to explain it.

"My birth name is Claire Margiela...heir to the Margiela name...my stage name is Clara Massou. I...I was going to tell you, honestly!" She says, looking up at him earnestly, hoping he'll actually believe her. She’s wringing her hands again, something he knew her to do when she was nervous but still truthful. At least that’s what he had thought. He’s not sure anymore though.

"I didn't....I didn't use my real name because. I...God this is going to sound so stupid but..." She shakes her head, her own motivation seeming almost... ludicrous now in her mind. It feels embarrassing to tell him, now that she knew him better…knew how he struggled to get where he is now. She didn’t know the full brunt of it, but they had talked about his past enough that she knew he hadn’t been born with a silver spoon in his mouth like she had.

"I wanted to know that whatever I have, I earned. Any praise, any record deals, any patrons, any fans, any guest performances....were because I earned them through hard work....instead of just being handed it all because of who I or my family are. I want..." She pauses a moment, wondering if this would sound better or worse.

"...I don't want to be like my dad who solves everything with money. I want to be different. I want to be more than my money, more than my last name. I want to go to sleep at night knowing people came because they wanted to hear my voice, that I get a record deal for my talent, not because my father greased some palms." She hopes he understands, and she begins to explain it a little more in depth, how you couldn't be too careful with people who might only be interested in her for money or power, and how her father would not approve of her activities being tied to the Margiela name as well.

“Nothing I’ve ever done has ever mattered or been attributed to me. Everything I ever hear about me is ‘Margiela heir earns this, Margiela heir does that.’ I’m not…I’m not Claire to anyone. I’m just…Miss Margiela. Nothing else I do or contribute matters because everything will always be boiled down to my name. Everything is always of course I achieved that, I have that name!” She huffs, running a hand through her hair in frustration.

“I’m the heir to an old family fortune and business. Do you think he would approve of his daughter wearing such scandalous makeup and clothes, singing such salacious songs on stage? The only women who wear makeup like this are performers and...well...ladies of the night!” She shakes her head. “He might pass away on the spot if he didn’t kill me first!” She isn't entirely sure she's joking either.

“No one knows. Just…me, Roy, and my housekeeper, Daphne.

She looks at him, seeing him silently thinking over her words before she looks down, her hands fidgeting with her gloves as she quietly waits for his reaction.

He can understand that, to a degree. If everyone measured him by what his father had done…well. He would feel both insulted and infuriated. He can understand the want to make a name for herself. If anything he thinks it’s almost…respectable that she refuses to take the many shortcuts she could if she wished. It does something to quell his upset, but it’s still there, brimming under the surface. But he refuses to let it explode. He refuses to be like his father, so he takes a deep breath, closing his eyes as he thinks.

He feels like a fool, and he’s also infuriated. He was supposed to be playing her like a fiddle, with all of his own secrets hidden. He didn’t think she would be such a…difficult opponent in that regard. It grinds his gears to think he hadn’t seen this coming. He thinks he had become too complacent, too casual in this pursuit. It was foolish of him to think of this as a fun past time, instead of what it was meant to be: A mission with an objective.

He steels himself a moment as he thinks of how to proceed.

“This is your only secret?”

“My only one, I promise!” Her answer is so very quick, her eyes still wide as she waits for him to open his eyes and look at her. She hopes that last time wasn’t the actual last time he would look her in the eye. She practically holds her breath when he opens his eyes, boring into her own before he speaks.

“....No more secrets. Understand?” His voice is measured and careful, and she’s standing immediately, grasping his hands. “Yes! Of course! No more secrets! I promise!” She can feel her veins flood with relief, too worried to even notice how he doesn’t flinch at her sudden contact with him.

He knows it’s…almost hilariously hypocritical. Him selfishly demanding to know she had no more secrets when he still had so many of his own. But he had never promised her that he wasn’t selfish.

With one aspect addressed, now it’s time to focus on the other.

“Margiela?” He repeats, clarifying to make sure. Her nod is so small it’s almost imperceptible.

“...I’ve heard a lot of rumors about your family…” He trails off, not quite sure where to continue. None of the rumors were complimentary. Tales and whispered hushes of how her family and their ancestors clawed their way to the top, with absolutely no regard for any life they destroyed in the process.

Clara at least has enough of a conscience to look ashamed, although none of those crimes were her own. 

“...Most people have.” She settles on. A true fact. Most people had heard of her family, and thus, the stories circling her name.

He purses his lips as he thinks. This certainly threw another wrench into his plan. Knowledge of him dating a Margiela might be more than he bargained for. However she always seemed so keen to appease her father…he thinks she’ll do her best to make sure the public sees he’s with Clara Massou…and not Claire Margiela. So overall, he shouldn’t be any worse for wear, he thinks.

“Despite how…” He pauses, seeing her shift her eyes back downwards in shame.

“...Upset I am…I do…understand.” He eventually bites out. It’s a surprising enough statement that it causes her to look back up at him again.

“What?” Her voice mirroring the same surprise her voice showed.

“...When I think of this place…drinks and salacious outfits and makeup your father could only assume an entertainer or prostitute might wear….playing that dastardly jazz music-" His sarcasm is thick on the word. "- that I’m sure his old fashioned self is afraid of as well…” He drawls on, despite him not thinking poorly of her at all in regards to her clothes or makeup. But it's clear her father would have a different opinion.

“...I can understand wanting to keep your father from finding out this is where you spend your time.” 

Her shoulders relaxed, tense as stone until this moment.

“I can’t even imagine how furious he would be…If I become successful and make a name for myself though…perhaps his fury could be…soothed.” She reasons, trying to further explain her logic. Alastor nods to this, understanding that at least. He absentmindedly strokes his thumb across her hand as he thinks further. A small action that does wonders to calm her, even if he's unaware of his actions.

“I have to say though…the desire to have something for your own…something that you and you alone can claim you made happen…I can respect that.” He nods, looking her in the eye again, having been staring off in the distance until this moment.

“I think…Well. I think it’s quite endearing you’re so determined to earn what you have.”

To say she's surprised he's taking it so well at this point is an understatement. She half expected him to storm out and never look back. She's been trying to figure out how to tell him for a few weeks now. In that time she had imagined so many scenarios where he hadn't reacted well so she's almost blindsided by how well he does, all things considered. To have him not only react well once he heard her point of view, but to also understand her line of thinking, to even...praise her. It's almost more than she can bear. 

"Oh...Alastor..." 

She's smiling at him with such a warm fondness as she moves closer, placing a hand on his chest after flickering her eyes up to his to see if it was alright. He nods almost imperceptibly at her wish, his anger softening further at how…gentle and considerate she always was with him, even though he had become oh so comfortable with her by this point, he thinks.

Only then does she lean up on her tip toes to gently press her lips against his for the first time, letting her eyes flutter closed, Alastor’s shortly following suit. She had been oh so very careful to respect his boundaries in all this time, which meant although she had gotten kisses to her hand like a gentleman would give…he had yet to kiss her quite like this.

It's something tender and sweet, her lips lingering behind even as they part.

"....Thank you. For understanding.” Her eyes are barely open, her lips still just a breath apart from his.

He isn’t sure what it is, but there’s something about the sensation of her lips on his that has any lingering annoyance fading. He still didn’t understand the obsession most men had with physical touch like this…but he thinks he could understand the desire for the comforting feeling it fills him with.

Taglist: @alastorthirsty @diffidentphantom

[frostyhelltime]

Literally so proud of her!! 🖤🩶🤍💜 And coming out as aspec on International Asexuality Day is so badass I'm so happy for her!

[frostyhelltime]

Taglist

So I can better keep track of anyone I need to tag in my fics. ❤️

Feel free to let me know however you want (By message, ask, commenting, etc) if you want to be added!

Current taglist: @alastorthirsty @diffidentphantom

[frostyhelltime]

A Folly of a Plan

Chapter 2

Chapter 1 here.

Alastor x singerOC

Warnings: None, just Alastor being manipulative. So it's your average day.

Clara could already feel quite easily how charmed she was by him that first night. Everything he did felt…calculated didn't feel quite like the right word, but she couldn't think of another. The leaning back to look more alluring and match her own posture, pulling her closer than he needed to during their dance, his smile...but somehow she didn't mind.

It's when he's back another night and they find themselves chatting by the bar again that she takes note of the gloves she remembered him wearing that first night too. It seemed to be a usual part of his outfit.

"A man of taste I see. These are quite nice gloves." She compliments, used to discerning good fabric from shoddy fabric. A skill her mother instilled in her to help keep up the appearances her father was oh so fond of.

She instinctively reaches for his hand without thinking and Alastor looks over at their connected hands as Clara strokes her thumb against his gloved palm. She at least has the presence of mind to take her hand away quickly. Quite an observant and quick learner, it seems.

“My mother always said that we must dress to impress.” He says, always smiling in his charming way before offering his hand to her.

“You seem to have just as much boundless energy as the other night. Do you need a little help burning off that excess?” He asks, his polite tone not hinting at any kind of ulterior motive.

She looks to the band, listening to the slowed sound they were playing for now. It wasn't bad…and he was right. She did still feel entirely too restless. She chuckles to herself and turns back to him, taking his hand and lifting off her seat.

“Anyone ever tell you you can read people like a book?” She asks playfully as they walk out to the dancefloor. At least the song is slow enough they can continue to talk.

“Once or twice.”

There's a hint of mischief in his eyes and she almost wants to question it.

“As for what your mother said…mine said something similar. She sounds like a brilliant woman.” Clara compliments, unaware of the brownie points she was unknowingly earning by complimenting his mother.

“Likewise.” He chuckles. Their conversation flows far easier than he expected, if he's being honest. He doesn't even realize that not one, not two, but three songs have passed by the time they stop chattering enough to check the time. She was quick witted and easy to talk to, had fascinating opinions on everything, from politics to business to theatre and music. He could see them being quite good friends. He supposes when he's no longer being gossiped about and he dumps her, he'll have to try to see if they can remain amicable. But he's getting ahead of himself now.

Clara is actually a little sad when she's worked out that excess energy and ready to return to the bar with him. Perhaps she'll ask him if he'll come see her perform again, so she can steal another dance.

It's when they go back to sit at the bar that she addresses Roy again.

"I know it's a pain but could you make a sidecar for little ol' me?" Clara asked, batting her eyelashes even though they both knew she didn't have to. It's easy for the man to just huff a laugh and roll his eyes playfully.

"Only because you asked so nicely.”

Once Roy has gone to attend to other customers and they were left alone again, he turns to her.

“How about ‘I Can't Give You Anything But Love'? For my request, I mean. There are some…difficult high notes in the song but you seem to be fond of those sorts of songs.” He comments, having noticed the types of songs she likes to cover, both from seeing her perform and their talks on their own favorite singers.

As they sit at the bar and sip their drinks, he's fishing in his pocket for something before he pulls out a business card. He looks around and grabs a leftover pen from the bar and begins writing down something.

“As much as I enjoy keeping your company all to myself…I do have a radio show. I think it would be marvelous to have you come on and sing a song or two.” He says, glancing at her briefly. He has to hold back a chuckle at how shocked she looks, not realizing the connection she had made when they met.

Her mouth falls open in shock, eyes wide a moment. If she was more cognizant she would feel foolish for acting so silly. But there's no time to think about that as she nods her head rapidly, pulling herself together and beaming at him.

"Oh I would absolutely love to!!" She agrees quickly, leaning a bit closer to see what he was writing, but not so close she would accidentally touch him.

“I get recognition for discovering new talent,you get more eyes on you and this…” He pauses a moment, trying to think of a word that was more complimentary than what he wanted to say.

“...venue.” He finishes and she snickers a moment, knowing full well he was being polite. The place wasn't a dump. But it certainly wasn't the fanciest place.

She certainly wouldn't have minded being close to him and casually touching him, but the fact he's wearing gloves indoors and the way he seemed to recoil slightly when Roy's hand accidentally brushed against his to hand off a drink earlier...she thinks he probably isn't a touchy person in general, and makes sure to keep her hands to herself unless he initiates. It's easy to not be bothered by it though, his charming smile making her own feel so effortless.

Her smile goes from exuberant to simply content, although it's clear she's still excited and almost unable to sit still with this new offer before her. It's almost…adorable, he thinks.

"Will you...come to another show?" She asks tentatively, holding the card close to her chest as if it's a valuable treasure.

"You'll see me here again, my dear. I can assure you of that." He says with his signature smile and added a wink before he departs. Alastor notices Clara reach for him in her excitement to thank him for the opportunity, and then stop, taking her hand back before she made contact. She must be observant as well. That may be a problem later on for him but he wasn’t going to worry about it for now. Right now he was just going to enjoy the fact that for the duration of this plan he wouldn't be tormented by constant touching.

"It was very lovely to see you again, Miss Massou." He says giving a polite bow before he says goodbye and heads out himself, giving her one last playful wink before he does.

Clara beamed, still on cloud nine from the business card still resting securely in her hands.

There's a slight rosiness to her cheeks and a bashful smile on her face when he winks at her as he goes, and it's clear that, at least from him, she enjoys the attention.

"I can't wait. It was very lovely seeing you again too." She calls out as he's leaving, standing and doing a small curtsy herself to be polite, a well-practiced motion she has done many times for many different events...but not usually in a place like this.

She can tell he seems a bit old fashioned, but there's something about that she finds endearing, and even charming. He seems old fashioned in all the right ways, she thinks. Polite, a gentleman, but modern in the right aspects as well. He was in a jazz bar after all. He also seems earnestly polite, like he's respectful because it's what he wants to do, and not because it's what others tell him to do. There's also something about that she quite likes as well. She looks down at the card again once he's gone, biting her lip to contain a soft squeal of excitement before getting ready to leave herself.

———⋅˚₊‧♬ ‧₊˚ ⋅———

She's positively giddy as she walks through town, a brilliant smile on her face that she can't hide as she passes people by on the way to the radio station. This time she wasn't dressed up as the glamorous Clara Massou, in a fancy and tight dress, and alluring smokey eyes and red lips beckoning you from across the room. That was a getup that looked striking on the stage where she needed to be dramatic, but felt garishly out of place in the light of day. She was dressed as she normally would be during the day. Fresh faced but still beautiful with rosy cheeks, an elegant and more conservative dress covering her frame and keeping her modesty quite well hidden as she carried herself with her normal poise and grace. It would be quite easy to not realize they are one and same woman, with how drastic the wardrobe and makeup changes are.

She smooths out her dress almost absentmindedly, more of a nervous habit than anything before she knocks on the door to the station, her eyes lighting up when she hears the door open.

"Hello again! Its Clara." She explains almost immediately, in case the change in appearance has him stumped since he has only met her a few times.

Alastor, for his part simply looks confused until she speaks, and the voice clicks for him.

“My, my. What a transformation.” He hums aloud to himself, opening the door wider for her as he looks her over. Quite a chameleon apparently.

Clara has to hold back a small giggle at the quickly covered look of surprise Alastor has at seeing her so differently today. Surprise is quite a cute look on him, she thinks.

"I'm so delighted to be here! Thank you for having me!" Her smile is earnest and truthful as she does a polite curtsy for him in place of a handshake, thinking he would likely prefer that. The edge of his smile quirks up just a little more naturally at that, his shoulders relaxing a bit as she walks past him without touching him.

“I'm just as delighted. I have to say I am surprised. You look like an entirely different person…” He shakes his head in fascination. “But still just as beautiful, of course.” No sense wasting time when it's clear she's interested. The sooner he can date her, the sooner he can be done with it all.

She smiles back at him, not turning her head away even as she feels her cheeks redden just the slightest bit.

"And I see you're just as handsome and charming as I remember, thankfully." She compliments him back, her tone polite enough that it could be seen as a genuine compliment instead of a flirtation. Of course...there was no way of knowing for sure though. But she wouldn't flirt so shamelessly and obviously. Yet, anyway.

“Nervous?” He asks her curiously as he leads her in, getting her some water for now and himself a cup of coffee.

She looks bashfully down at her foot, which she can't seem to stop tapping against the ground.

“How could you tell?” She jokes even as she takes the water and drinks.

“You'll do fine, I'm sure. Your voice is magnificent.” He compliments, and not even as an attempt to further woo her. He had met many talented people in his life that he had brought into his station but it's been awhile since he had brought someone on with talent like hers.

He helps her get set up in the sound booth with him pretty easily. She at least seemed familiar with recording equipment, which wasn't surprising given her clear passion to have a music career. She still looks nervous as she sits across from him in front of her own microphone. But there's no more time to delay. The show must go on and it was almost time to go live.

Alastor welcomes back the audience and introduces Clara reminding them that he had found her at the local jazz club he likes to go to. Short, sweet, simple intro.

When it was her turn to speak he leans back in his chair listening to her, his eyes watching carefully. Alastor could tell she was nervous which was cute in a way but he understood why her nerves were so heightened. This was quite the opportunity for her, he imagines.

She's nervous as she speaks, and she sounds like it too at first but the more she talks the more she transforms back into the woman he saw on stage.

“H-Hi! Hello! This is Clara Massou. I'm so happy to be here with you all today. I really wanted to show off my range of capabilities. So..I do hope you enjoy what I've prepared!" She begins and takes a deep breath before the music starts.

She's still clearly fighting her nerves until the music starts, and then it's almost as if a switch has been flipped and then she's truly the stage siren he saw back in the jazz lounge again. She closes her eyes and feels the music just as much as she sings it, despite the only one able to see her being Alastor. Her voice is soft and full of longing at first before it begins to build, her strength and power coming through, eventually building into such a powerful and clear sound that it's hard not to be captivated by her working her craft expertly, even without the visual of seeing her facial expressions full of passion.

There was something hypnotizing about her voice and he knew it wasn't just him that thought that. Being the observant man that Alastor was he witnessed her voice captivating the audience at the lounge, and he's relieved to see it hadn't been a fluke or a one time thing.

When Clara really began to sing Alastor closed his eyes for a moment, just enjoying the woman's voice. It truly was pleasant to the ears. When she finishes he claps his two hands together before taking the microphone and signing off for the night.

She was so lost in what she loves that she blinks in surprise, jumping slightly when she hears him clap, practically forgetting for a moment he was there.

“You heard her here first folks. Be on the lookout for the name you're sure to see everywhere someday, Clara Massou!” He grins at her and gives her a playful wink. The high praise and wink to go along with it just makes her blush, a smile so big on her face she thinks her cheeks may hurt later.

“In the meantime you can find her singing at the Sapphire Flame on 7th Street.” He is focused on his broadcast again and doesn't even realize she's staring at him until he's officially off the air. Once he does he turns to face her fully, an eyebrow raised.

“What?” He asks her curiously.

“Sorry. You're just…a natural. You sound like you were made for radio!” She gushes excitedly, her hands clasped together as she praises him.

He actually laughs at that, instead of a reserved chuckle this time.

“I'm glad. Radio to me is what music seems to be to you.” He says. If there's one thing he can't deny, it's her passion for it. But passion only gets you so far. Fortunately, much like him, he thinks she has both the skills and the charisma to go far.

Shame this is all a farce. He imagines they would be quite the power couple if they stayed together.

"I have no doubt there will be talent agencies reaching out to you at the jazz lounge soon enough." Alastor says giving Clara a friendly nod as he stands and opens the door for them to walk through and leave the booth.

"I hope so!" She nods vehemently, unable to hide her excitement as they walk out. Nor would she want to. "I have butterflies in my stomach just like the first night I was the main singer at the lounge." She laughs and smiles almost bashfully, looking away slightly as she recalls the way her heart had pounded in anticipation when she stepped onto that stage by herself for the first time.

"This was just absolutely wonderful. Thank you again for inviting me." She says politely, doing a small but polite curtsy out of habit. Another softer edge to the smile of his at her quite polite habit, that he's pieced together is for his benefit. Besides, he always found good manners charming, after all.

“Of course. I do hope you'll still save me a dance after your performances, even as you get popular.” He says, voice dropping a little lower as he moves closer to her. He can tell his attempts at flirting are certainly working from the way her breath hitches and her eyes widen.

He is handsome and charming, and she's aware he knows it. She was used to a lot of men flashing their money and/or good looks and assuming that was enough. But that wasn't exactly her style. Good looks and money were great obviously, but if the personality wasn't right for her, she could care less about their net worth or their looks. He didn't do any of that. He didn't show off his money or anything like that. He was just...him. He just…showed his charms, his politeness, his good taste, his humor…how she could possibly say no to that offer?

“O-of course.” She manages to get out when her throat doesn't feel so dry.

———⋅˚₊‧♬ ‧₊˚ ⋅———

Over the next few weeks, Clara finds she starts to look for him in the crowd during her performances, smiling nice and big when he catches her eye. She's really started looking forward to their dances and conversations afterwards too, usually heading over to where he was after a show once she's done a little bit of networking and fan service. Neither one says anything about the fact that routine has become a habit, but it's an unspoken rule that they follow.

This night was no different, although she was taking a little longer than usual get over there, talking to a man in a business suit excitedly as he hands her a card.

In the past the brunette haired man would only go to the lounge a few times a week but now he had been going nearly everyday. Just to see her. At first it was just to continue this little game of flirtation they so publicly did, but eventually he realized he was going regardless.

He was once again making small talk with Roy while he waited for her to inevitably get to him. It was like clockwork. Alastor shows up, chats with Roy, listens to her sing, chats some more while she networks, and then they can dance and talk the night away as much as they please.

Clara bounces over and sits in the chair next to Alastor and holds out a fancy looking business card for them to see, oddly more energetic than usual, and seemingly bursting with the urge to speak.

"That fella over there is hosting a private party with some people, and one or two of them are from the music industry and he wants me to perform! He said he heard me on your radio show, Alastor! And he just had to come check me out himself to see if I would be a good fit for the gig!" Clara is looking at Alastor as she talks excitedly at first, practically bouncing in her seat in uncontained excitement.

Alastor looks at Clara, hardly surprised. "See what did I tell you cheri?" He says, testing the waters with a cute nickname he's sure will likely make the red on her cheeks bloom, like he's gotten the hang of causing. She blinks a few times, eyes widening as she processes the name. Once she does, her rosy cheeks are evident as she glanced to the side and smiles to herself, clearly pleased with the name choice. Exactly as he thought.

He thinks now is the perfect time to strike.

"Are you busy or would you care to join me outside for a walk in the moonlight? It is rather stuffy in here." He says.

Then she's looking up at him again despite her blush and she's nodding almost immediately, unable to hide any eager edge to her voice.

"That sounds just lovely! I bet the sky looks just beautiful tonight." She nods again, standing up off the stool once she finishes her drink.

Alastor was solely focused on Clara as they spoke. The way her blue irises were blinking, the way she blushed when he called her cheri, and how she was oh so quick to agree to join him. His plan was going perfectly. He had her nearly eating out of his palm.

Once she has a coat on to keep herself warm she gladly leaves with Alastor, Clara talking to him about her opinion on what he talked about on his radio show that day.

“-and you were completely right about the cast at Pearl Theatre! They truly outdid themselves this time!”

She had been a little shy about admitting she listened to it at first, but the more they talked and spent time together the more she enjoyed hearing his thoughts and opinions on topics.

Alastor listened to her, actually a little surprised she had become such an avid listener. "Ahh, so you listen to me? I am flattered." He says smoothly. His smile only grew wider, but genuinely wider as she shyly explained when she first listened in. It had been the day after she had appeared, it seemed. So she had meant it when she had complimented him so earnestly that day.

Despite being bashful before she has a bit of her brazen courage back again now that they're alone.

"I do! I found myself listening after that day and I don't think I can stop now." She laughs as she walks alongside him.

You truly do have such a wonderful voice made for radio." She finds herself sighing wistfully as she compliments him. She even thinks perhaps she can be a bit bolder, at least with that pet name he called her earlier.

"It's just an absolute shame your listeners don't get to see that you look as good as you sound." She looks to him and bats her eyelashes, a coy smile on her face as she flirts back a little less subtly. It has become easier to be herself when it was just the two of them, at least when he wasn't throwing her off balance with his own flirtations. Her natural self was more confident, outgoing, and bold than the usual scattered mess he seemed able to reduce her to sometimes.

“Oh? I suppose that's some knowledge you'll have to live with being the sole owner of.” He teases before gently taking her hand and tugging her out of the way of a puddle she's about to step in as if he wasn't the one that usually recoiled at most casual touches she's seen him have to endure. On the other hand he doesn't seem to realize the unusual action of his, but Clara does, and her heart is beating faster knowing he reached for her first, even if it was just to keep her from mussing up her shoes.

She's so distracted by that fact, and the fact he doesn't let her hand go afterwards for a few moments that she doesn't quite realize he's talking to her again at first.

"Ah. I'm sorry. What?" She blinks a moment, her gaze shifting from his hand to his face again.

“I said...If I might be so…bold. Would you perhaps be interested in dinner with me sometime?” He asks, as if he isn't nervous at all. Which he isn't, to be honest. No need to be nervous when you're so very sure she'll say yes.

Despite his obvious flirtations, and her even more obvious ones, she's still taken aback when he actually asks her out. She feels almost silly for not expecting it, especially when she's normally so very used to people asking her out. Except this time she would actually like to accept.

"I would love to!” She says the words so quickly they practically run together. “Name a time and place and I'll make sure I'm there in my best!" She says in a forcefully more calm voice, doing a small twirl in her current dress for emphasis despite her trying to make her voice sound less eager. Although whether she's emphasizing her figure or her dress was up for debate.

Alastor chuckles, placing his hand over his mouth as he watches the display she puts on.

"Hmmm." He hums. "Lets say this Friday? I will pick you up at six o'clock and take you to a real nice place?" Alastor questions, smiling at her eagerness. He was very pleased that he was wrapping Clara around his finger but he didn't realize that she wasn't the only one; didn't realize the small ways he was becoming more comfortable with her, and the way their dynamic was shifting and becoming easier between them from all the casual talks and the way their personalities meshed so well, like tides pulling at each other.

"That sounds perfect. I'll make sure I'm ready!" She's happy to agree, nailing down the details of where to pick her up. She feels like she's on cloud nine all the way home, humming delightfully to herself as she takes a bath and thinks of what to wear, deciding to spoil herself a little and use some of the fancy oils and perfumes for the bath that her father usually brought back from business trips.

Although, on the other side of town, as Alastor looked over the address she gave him for a pick up spot for their date, he chews on his lip nervously. He began to wonder if perhaps he had picked the wrong target. Perhaps picking up someone from that neighborhood might be a little more attention than he bargained for…

But still...surely he could figure something out if there were any troubles.

[frostyhelltime]

A Folly of a Plan

Alastor x singerOC

AN: This takes place primarily when they're alive, but will eventually reach hell.

I hope everyone likes it!! I did try to keep in mind some ways of speaking back in the 1920s when writing their thoughts and dialogue.

As a side note, he is still ace in this. I wrote him as demisexual (like myself).

Summary: Showing no interest in women as an adult man means rumors have started that he prefers men. People thinking you're a gay man in the 1920s is NOT how you keep a low profile as a serial killer. But if he could just find some dame to pretend to be into to keep the heat off, he can just break up with her once the rumors are done and go about his life.

At least that was the plan.

Warnings: None yet. 1920s queerphobia by the general populace I suppose? There will eventually be smut and murder and all that fun stuff.

Chapter 1

Alastor had a problem.

He had heard stirrings through the grapevine. Rumors and hushed whispers, as eyes followed him. It had become both obnoxious, and worrying. How was he to continue his favorite…activities, if the whole town seemed so interested in his affairs? It made it remarkably harder to get away and find victims. He had stopped trying to go out…hunting, as often, due to this.

It felt like the whole town was convinced he was one of those queers. Not that he cared one way or the other what people chose to do or not do in their bedrooms. But unfortunately the lack of his interest in anything romantic or more…physically intimate had gotten people talking that he preferred the company of men.

Again, not something he cared about…and in all honesty it was frustrating they jumped to that conclusion instead of the idea he just wasn't interested in general.

But being a barely white passing man who had lied on his census reports about his race to have the radio hosting gig he has fought tooth and nail for, who also moonlighted as a serial killer and…occasional cannibal…the less people paying attention to him with a negative eye the better. He had more than a few skeletons in his closet he wanted to stay hidden.

And the rumor he was a gay man in the 1920s was not the way to stay under the radar.

Which only served to make him that much crabbier since he had to put a pause on his night time activities temporarily. Nothing a little hooch couldn't fix, he's sure.

Which is how he found himself here, in a hidden away speakeasy that was a jazz lounge and music hall as a front. He isn't sure he can actually call it a front though when he sees people already crowded around the stage before the lights have even dimmed.

It didn't matter to him. If anything it felt relieving to not have eyes on him for once. He catches the eye of the bartender, who he knows casually and suggested he come by for a drink, noticing how agitated the man had become during their small talks. By day the barkeep worked at a local food joint that Alastor preferred to grab lunch from when he was short on time.

Neither would call the other a friend…but they were friendly with each other. Alastor slides into a seat at the bar with ease, gladly taking whatever liquid in a glass he hands him. He thinks it might be a kind of whiskey perhaps, as it goes down.

It isn't long before the lights dim just a bit more in this cute little hole in the wall jazz lounge, spotlight shining on a stage as an announcer comes on and introduces their relatively new singer with enthusiasm. He can hear one of the waitresses chatter excitedly about how she apparently went from backing vocals to being the main vocal on a trial basis.

He snorts a small laugh at that. He imagines it'll go well if the crowd is anything to go by. It does have him admittedly curious.

"Now, put your hands together for Miss Clara Massou!"

The announcer cheers in a typically excitable way he is expected to before making his way off stage, allowing a beautiful woman with a form fitting dress that still allowed easy movement to appear on stage and taking her place in front of the microphone. The shimmers of her dress catch the bright stage lights and make it almost impossible not to notice her.

She smiles, crimson lips parted in a seductive manner as she looks out into the crowd, eyes half lidded despite how excited she is. She knows she needs to match the energy of her song, and as soon as she hears the first few chords of music play, she's singing, a sultry and inviting voice weaving itself through the lounge and captivating many of them. It's hard to miss her as the room falls quiet, side conversations falling off into nothingness. She has a sonorous and melodic voice, her blonde curls seeming even brighter under the spotlight as she sweeps them gingerly out of her face as she moves and sways with her song. She can feel her blood pounding with the way she sees them all focusing on her as she reaches the crescendo of her first song, a melancholy longing evident in the powerful high note she sings before she winds down to begin the next song.

She continues on like this for awhile, her audience captivated and spellbound by her as she runs through her set list.

But all good things must come to an end, and it's eventually time to wind down and let everyone relax and continue drinking. So she gives a bow and a heartfelt thank you to the small but cheering crowd, and she begins to make her way off stage.

She feels electric on stage, and is almost bursting with energy as she leaves, that much is clear. She blows a kiss to the cheering crowd before she does leave the stage, knowing that playing it up was vital in this trial run. She has to do everything she could think of to make the crowd want to come to hear her again.

After her last song had finished, Alastor jerks his head up when he hears his bartender friend talking to him. He hadn't even realized he had been staring, so lost in her performance. Had he been staring?

“I could be wrong but it seems she actually caught your attention. I didn't know that was possible.” He snickers and fills up his own glass despite being on the clock. He had certainly heard the rumors floating around town, and it made Alastor roll his eyes.

"You certainly never looked at any of the girls that threw themselves at you that way." There's a hint of mirth in the man's eyes because it's true. Every time he saw Alastor with a girl that seemed to be flirting with him he seemed to be tolerating her at best before he ended up making up an excuse to get away.

“Shut up, Roy. She just has a lovely voice. I work in radio. I'm always looking for lovely voices…It's hardly surprising.” He isn't sure if he's justifying it to himself or Roy. Alastor's smile never leaves his face but his eyes betray the annoyance he actually feels. Roy thinks it's the most strained he had ever seen Alastor's smile.

Meanwhile, the subject of their conversation makes some small talk as she makes her rounds around the room, expertly networking and charming people where it was needed until she finally lands where she would actually like to relax a bit, the bar.

She greets Roy brightly, waving energetically at him as she approaches.

"Roy!" She almost sings, some love of music still left on her lips although the stage was gone. The grizzled and almost weary seeming bartender gives something Clara could swear was a smile as she greeted him.

As soon as Alastor hears her calling out, the murderous look in his eyes is disappearing instantly as if it were never there. He looked over his shoulder at her, listening to her talk to what appeared to be their shared acquaintance.

"I feel so good! I think I did really well tonight!" She's all bright energy and sheer innocent excitement as she orders a drink from him and begins chattering with him in between patrons, sitting a few seats down from what she notes is a sharply dressed man nursing his whiskey and peeking at her over his glasses.

But her energy hasn't quite abated yet and even when she's finished her drink she's still clearly feeling restless, foot tapping to some music that she's humming.

She huffs to Roy now, as if he could magically fix her problem.

"Ugh. I still have so much energy to burn!!" She sighs in a playfully dramatic manner before looking around the bar, her eyes eventually landing on the man a few seats down that she had noticed staring at her earlier. Her intuition just told her he was a good dancer, and if not…well at least it would still be fun since he was handsome.

Alastor becomes aware that he is being observed and quickly snaps his face forward to look back at his drink.

She hops off her stool and walks the few feet needed to reach him, holding out her hand before he can finish internally scolding himself for staring so blatantly and impolitely.

"Pleasure to meet you! My name is Clara. Can you help a girl out and help me get out some energy by cutting a rug with me?" She offers, her smile nothing but charming and inviting.

He looks at her hand a moment, considering it all. To her credit, her confidence doesn't seem to waiver when he takes a few moments to decide. Who knows? Maybe seeing him dance with a woman might get some of those pesky rumors to abate.

What the hell. He was just tipsy enough to think it was a fine enough idea. Maybe some dancing would help get out his frustrations as well. The band was certainly picking up into a more lively number.

Alastor simply nods, a kind smile hiding any lingering awkwardness. “Of course, my dear.” He says and downs the rest of his drink before pushing his glass back onto the bar top, although there wasn't much left by this point anyway, and offers his hand to her.

Roy had to admit he was surprised, to say the least. Alastor wasn’t much of a people person and kept his circle small from what he could tell. Wasn't even sure he had a circle. He certainly never initiated touch first unless he absolutely has to for networking purposes. It's...kind of fascinating to see him actually accept a dance from someone without some subtle sign in his body language showing he would really rather not. But he brushes it off. Perhaps it's a curiosity thing. Alastor certainly never minded getting in someone else's personal space whenever he found it amusing. Perhaps this was a similar thing?

Alastor stood up then, admiring her smile as he did. “My name is Alastor.” He introduces himself with a small and proper bow like a gentleman.

Clara’s giggle shows that she was clearly happy that he accepted her invitation as well as being pleased with his manners, her smile turning just a little coy when he does eventually take her hand.

"It's a delight to meet you." She continues to smile at him as they walk out to the dance floor. She was even more delighted to see her intuition had been right. He was quite a good dancer, and has no problem keeping up with her or the number they're dancing to.

It feels like it's impossible for her to stop smiling at this point, charmed laughter escaping her as she enjoys their dance and all the twists and twirls they do together, heart thrumming from either the exhilaration of the dance or from her partner or both...she isn't quite sure. Sometimes she put on a smile for the crowd, being the show woman she needed to be to be on stage, but this smile as they had fun dancing was so genuine it almost hurt.

She doesn't want it to end, and if she was honest with herself, she did like how warm his hands felt in hers, even through the gloves he wore, and she did feel a small tinge of red blooming on her cheeks when he pulled her close and grinned at her during their dance, the confident and coy mask she wore on stage slipping for a moment at his charms.

Alastor was used to always smiling but this time it was genuine. Far more genuine than when he had talked with Roy earlier at least. He was actually enjoying himself right now.

It was when he pulled her close during the dance that he noticed the rosy tint on her face, which only made him grin further at her, showing he saw the subtle change in the hue of her cheeks.

He was handsome, he knew that. He was used to women swooning over him, and perhaps it's the whiskey…but he's hatching a plan as they dance.

He would have to chat with her, see how tolerable of a person she was to see if his idea might work.

When they do eventually come back to the bar after their whirlwind of dancing she takes the seat next to him instead of a few down where she had been before, something Alastor mentally notes.

"Now that was absolutely delightful! I hope this isn't the last time you visit this place! I'll be just beside myself with grief if it is." Clara is immediately teasing him, gently bumping her shoulder up against his before she turns to their quiet bartender.

"Roy, you seemed to know him. How could you hide such a good and handsome dance partner from me? I'm hurt." She faked a clearly put on pout before relaxing again, even as Roy rolled his eyes and shook his head playfully at her antics, serving them both another drink when they ask before leaving to attend to other customers...but not before looking over his shoulder at Alastor and giving him a knowing grin with a raised eyebrow. Just to annoy him really, something he definitely enjoyed doing on occasion, just for a laugh.

“Trust me, my dear this is not the first nor last time I will be at this lounge.” Alastor promises with a twinkle in his eye.

"I'm just surprised. I don't think I've seen you on stage before here, have I?" He asked her curiously, sipping his drink and leaning against the bar to mirror her own relaxed posture.

She just nods excitedly. "Yeah! I started being the main singer a few weeks ago! Before that I just did backup vocals so that's probably why you never noticed me." She looks almost bashful at those humble beginnings, but Alastor sees nothing wrong with it.

"Ah. That explains it. To many more amazing performances." He gives her a comforting smile as he holds up his drink, waiting for her.

At that the bashfulness seems to fade and she straightens up a bit, holding her own glass and tapping it against his lightly.

"To many more!" She agrees, giggling a bit, even though she isn't quite sure why. Perhaps nerves?

Overall Clara seems pleased as punch that Alastor will come by again it seems, and it has her leaning closer into his space now.

Although she almost immediately pulls back a bit since she had noticed he seemed to keep his distance from others for the most part, plus he had seemed to startle slightly when she playfully bumped her shoulder into his unexpectedly and she's unsure if he doesn't mind her being close or if he's just too polite to tell her.

Either way she does her best to not invade his space too much now that she's aware of this possible quirk of his.

Alastor seems briefly surprised by her proximity and the fact she pulls back when she realizes she's gotten too close without him having to tell her. Others wouldn't have been that polite, or perhaps even notice his discomfort. Mimzy certainly wouldn't have cared whether he likes it or not. Clara was simply solidifying herself more and more as an excellent candidate for his plan.

"You know, for certain people I don't mind taking requests. I do mostly covers now, but I think I've almost convinced the owner to let me sing an original song eventually. Now I just have to pick from the ones I've written to show him my best one." Her smile is almost sheepish at the admittance she has written so many songs that haven't seen the light of day yet. But she hopes soon they will.

"So do let me know if there's a particular song you want to hear next time. I'll make sure to practice so it's just perfect." She tilts her head down a little bit, looking up at him through her eyelashes in an effort to look extra tempting.

"Hmmm. I'll have to think on it, see if I can think of a song that does that voice of yours justice." He eventually says, tapping his chin in thought.

"When you get the greenlight for the original song, let me know. I'll be sure to be there opening night." The charm and subtle flirtation comes easy to him, used to this game of cat and mouse by now from the previous people that had attempted to charm him.

Clara can't help the way she nervously but excitedly fidgets with the napkin below her drink as he promises to be there for the night of the original song.

"I can't wait!"

He quirks an eyebrow at her, a funny question that has been gnawing at his mind for a bit now bubbling to the surface.

“You seem much more…demure and modest compared to what I was expecting.” He says, and he only realizes how he's put his foot in his mouth when he sees the shock on her face and he's wide eyed and quickly speaking to clarify, but she stops him, gently holding her hand up to signal him to save it.

“Don't worry. I get it.” She giggles a moment, that innocent charm and excitement from before showing through.

“The sultry siren is what sells seats. Once I get to showcase my own songs I plan to show a lot more versatility.” She says, a wistful look on her face, her own imagination likely getting ahead of herself before she brings herself back to the here and now.

While she's preoccupied with her daydream, he can feel his plan coming together in his mind. He doesn't know why he didn't think of it before. Date someone long enough that all those pesky rumors stop, dump her, and go on with his life.

He has to admit…if he must use someone as a cover to get people to get off his back…she certainly seemed like one of the better options he could think of. She respected his personal space, had a strikingly lovely voice, good taste in music, and was such a fascinating little thing overall. She seemed far too intelligent and cultured to really fit in at this underground establishment. Something told him this wasn't her normal type of place and that had him curious. He's certain at the very least she'll be entertaining, and most importantly…tolerable, compared to a number of other women who had brazenly made their interest known. He didn't find his patience wearing thin with her the way it sometimes could with others, especially when they thought invading his personal space and getting up close and personal was the way to earn his affections.

He makes just enough small talk with her to learn when her next show is.

He's found his target, all he has to do is lay his traps.

[frostyhelltime]

“Everybody is a book of blood; wherever we're opened, we're red.”

IM BACK BABY

[frostyhelltime]

me when viv makes a vague comment abt vox on bsky:

[frostyhelltime]

Exciting Surprise for all Sinners participating today!

The magnificent @nightcigale.bsky.social has sponsored a 10-part series of artworks to support the Event - revealed when the community hits Donation Goals throughout the day! And we're already close to reach the first one! Let's raise some Hell!

Creators: Make sure to Tag us / use the Hastags #HGIWD2025 / #hellsgreatestinternationalwomensday to include any donation you recieved for this event in our Tracking Sheet! <3

[frostyhelltime]

Sharp claws, sharper wit. Care to test your luck? 😈

[frostyhelltime]

Can I request Husk, Vox, Alastor with reader who drunkenly cofess their love to them? I adore drunk confessions!

I am back from the dead!

I am happy to be back and writing though. Hope everyone is doing well!

Characters listed: Alastor, Vox, Husk.

Warnings: None.

Husk

Honestly…it feels almost inevitable that you would drunkenly confess to Husk. The main times you got drunk were around him after all.

Didn't make you feel any less embarrassed, of course.

But as for Husk he's just…confused at first.

He looks around to see who it was you were actually trying to confess to.

It doesn't occur to him that it is, in fact, him.

His gut reaction is to deny, to push you away.

Tell you you don't even know what you're saying, trying to brush your confession off.

But you are very adamant and it eventually sinks in that drunk or not, you meant what you said.

He's very flustered as he tries to help you to bed, his heart pounding as your words replay in his head.

He promises to talk to you about it in the morning when you're sober.

But you end up having to bring it up first when morning comes.

Part of him is afraid that you hadn't really meant it, and he would have felt foolish asking.

“For a bartender you’re shit at reading signals.” You slur, leaning over the bar with a foolishly excited grin on your face. Said bartender laughs and shakes his head. “How did you come to that conclusion? I read everyone right.” He teases with a raised brow, but your reaction is almost immediate, a scoff as you lean back, holding onto the edge of the bar to keep yourself from falling.

“You can’t be that great because you never once clocked that I have feelings for you.” You drunkenly roll your eyes as you pull yourself back to the bar to smile at him, only vaguely aware of what you’ve confessed. But Husk is more than aware, his eyes blinking rapidly as if that would somehow make what you said make any more sense. Maybe…he turns around, looking at the rest of the bar as if there had been some secret person hidden in a corner you were actually talking to. Perhaps a hidden camera? A prank?

“I mean I was just joking but…you really didn’t know? I really thought you knew.” You laugh, curling your drink closer to your chest and laughing more, not noticing the slight crestfallen look on Husk’s face at first.

“Joking about the reading thing. Not the feelings thing. I really thought you knew, you just couldn’t figure out how to let me down easy.” You chuckle again, taking another sip. 

He’s quick to shake his head, narrowing his eyes as he looks you over for any sign of deceit.

“You clearly have had too much. I’m cutting you off and getting you to bed. You don’t have any idea what you’re saying.” He shakes his head again, huffing as he rubs his temple, desperately trying to fight the building hope he feels.

“Drunk thoughts are sober words! Oh wait. No. It goes….Drunk words are sober thoughts? I think?” You mumble as he crosses the threshold and slings one of your arms over his shoulder as he helps you to your room.

“You really don’t believe me?” You sound much more aggravated than he expected.

“My words won’t change in the morning. Perhaps I’ll be a bit more embarrassed about how honest I was. But they’ll still be my words.” 

You were so focused on putting your words together you didn’t realize how quickly you had reached your door.

How odd.

The next thing you actually remember is the sun shining through your window, painfully so as you groan and roll over away from the light. You’re too hungover to even really startle when you hear a chuckle in your room, but you crack an eye open enough to see it’s just Husk in a chair by your bedside, medicine and water in hand.

“Thought you might need this.”

You look at it a moment before sighing and sloppily grabbing for it, drinking the water down as well with the medicine.

“I still mean it. That I have feelings for you, by the way. If you don’t believe me, ask Angel how many times he and I have talked about ways to make you notice me.” You manage to get out before rolling over and curling up into your covers again.

Which is for the better, Husk thinks. He certainly knows he doesn’t want you to see the startled look on his face, the way his ears twitch in confusion and excitement, or the way his tail swishes about from a happiness he hadn’t dared to let himself dream of.

Vox

It starts with you two drunkenly insulting each other for fun.

No harm, no foul. There's very little off limits for you two, and you both know which touchy subjects to avoid.

Plus, most people were too afraid of Vox to insult him to his face, so it was a refreshing and silly change when you two did this.

But then your insults…change, and it's weirdly both complimentary and insulting.

At first he thinks you're joking, but then he realizes you're actually upset and then he's even more confused.

He hadn’t said anything that should have actually made you angry.

But then he realizes…you seem mad at…yourself?

He’s about to ask what the hell is wrong with you when he hears the…admittedly…backwards sounding confession, both insulting and praising him all at once.

“You have that fake charismatic smile plastered on your face all the time! I’m surprised the image isn’t burned into your screen!” You laugh, shortly before he joins in.

“Least I’m not dumb enough to see a feather duster and mistake it for Val’s feather! Imagine, me startled by a feather duster, I could never.” Vox is laughing, and even though that has happened to him as well, he certainly won’t admit to it.

“Hey! It had the exact same coloration! Not my fault! Least I’m not too stupid to realize when someone has a crush on me!” You scoff, and he laughs at first before looking confused.

“Nah, that’s not a good insult. I am very aware of my secretary’s crush on me. I don’t give a shit.” He raises a brow, looking at you. You’re backpedaling almost immediately, not realizing how easily you had given yourself away. You’re already beginning to mentally curse yourself for making such a foolish slip up.

But Vox’s expression changes from confused to the same type of predatory he gets when he knows he has a sale in the bag.

“Unless…? You meant someone else had a crush on me that I wasn’t aware of?” He hums nonchalantly, leaning across the table and laying his screen into his hand as he looks at you. You only seem to fluster more, looking around for any possible distraction or way out, but your attention is brought back by the sound of his claws rapping against the table in impatience, that stupid smug smile still on his face.

“....M-Maybe…” You mumble, looking down and away now, but the hand making noise against the table stops almost immediately and cups your chin, pulling you to look at him. No hiding.

“Perhaps I can fix that then? The not realizing someone has a crush on me bit?” He teases, and there is something both dastardly mischievous and honest in his next words.

“Besides, you’re just as stupid for not realizing someone has a crush on you back.”

Alastor

It happens after a night of drinking and dancing to jazz.

Well, during, is when it starts.

Both pleasantly drunk on whiskey, you more so than him.

You casually admit it, hardly even aware you’ve confessed.

But he is painfully aware, unsure if you’re genuine or, like every other sinner, attempting to get something out of him.

But you’ve always been so…ridiculously honest and genuine in Charlie’s program. It’s hard to imagine you even saying a white lie, let alone a manipulative one.

He decides to test it in the morning, getting unusually close to you to see your reaction.

Surely if you were simply trying to be manipulative you would be afraid, trying to fool the radio demon himself?

“Oh I love this one! Just one more dance!” You laugh, your grip on his hands tightening. An action that would normally annoy him with others, but with you was almost…pleasant.

“Ah, you know me. How can I ever say no to a Glen Miller song?” He hums, chuckling as he spins you before bringing you close to him again, arm wrapping around your waist a moment in the middle of the energetic and fast paced number.

You lay your head into the crook of his shoulder and grin to yourself.

“My, my, are you losing energy? Already?” Alastor can’t hide the amusement in his voice, nor does he want to as he continues to sway with you to the music.

“Oh no, never. Just…enjoying dancing with my love.” You say it almost absentmindedly, without quite realizing what you’ve said. But even muffled against his lapels, he hears it, and freezes for just a second before continuing his movements.

“Your love? You say?” He asks curiously, eyes almost boring into you as he waits for a response. You tilt your head back just enough to look at him, hands still rested in his.

“My love? Oh. Did I say that out loud? Fuck.” You frown a moment, the pout you wear almost adorable despite how infuriated you were with yourself.

“Language.” He playfully reminds you, spinning you in a way that makes the room spin so much faster than it already was.

“Yeah I speak one.” You slur out, hands gripping onto the lapels of his suit and clinging to him once you’re spun back to him.

But this just makes him laugh, whole heartedly and unabashedly.

“I think it’s time to head back.”

He knows it’s silly to interrogate you in your current state, but still, you babble as he helps you back to the hotel.

“What’s the point of even liking the big bad radio demon? Nothing will come of it.” You laugh, clinging to him as you stumble alongside him.

“Oh? Well I think it depends on how much you like the ‘big bad radio demon’.” He is clearly bemused as he listens to you, still aware enough himself to get you both back safe and sound.

“Like? Love. Romantic feelings. Whatever. I’m sure it’s all unrequited. These lovely dances with you are probably the closest I’ll ever get to that fantasy…” You mumble, sighing to yourself as you finally cross the threshold into the hotel lobby.

The sight of you two practically attached at the hip is nothing new, so barely anyone even bats an eyelash at the sight of it now.

However, unlike previous times he’s helped carry you back, his smile is decidedly strained, deep in thought as he analyzes everything he can about this interaction, and previous ones.

Was this genuine? Highly unlikely. Or was it simply a ploy to gain a favor from him? A loyalty you could utilize and take advantage of?

However in all the time he’s known you…that seemed…unlikely.

Surely you couldn’t have truly meant it? Surely just a silly thought that flitted across your mind as the two of you danced. But still, he helps you to your room, careful to help you into bed, and assuring you he would bring water and medicine in the morning.

When the morning comes and you awaken, you feel a flush come across your face immediately as you remember what you confessed the night before. You groan into your pillow, burying your face in it in a vain attempt to suffocate yourself, but you just hear a familiar and jovial laugh from nearby.

“Oh my dear! That isn’t how you suffocate someone at all!” Alastors laughs, throwing his head back before smiling at you.

You dare to open an eye, looking at him curiously.

“...Do you remember last night?” You ask cautiously, but he just leans closer, until his lips are just a breath away from yours.

“....Do you?”

[frostyhelltime]

Alastor skating on Ice in Louisiana 💖💖😍😍😍.

[frostyhelltime]

So it's supposed to snow in New Orleans Tomorrow...

No that's not a joke...

Based off this

[frostyhelltime]

Happy 1 year anniversary of Hazbin Hotel!

I love this chaotic bastard

[frostyhelltime]

Happy birthday to AO3 🎂🎉