OFF WITH THEIR HEADS

“o-oh, hey–morning, ainsley.” it’s been some time, but the woman still never failed to make traci nervous, but in a way that’s not like before. she used to make her nervous in a exhilarated kind of way, but now….she couldn’t even think of the right word at the moment. they’ve broken up on good terms, realizing that it wasn’t working for the both of them and there’s a lot more things. what they had was just a memory for her now, though, they aren’t really the bad kind. both women just…..didn’t know much about each other. it takes a lot in the barista to even open herself to anyone, yet that isn’t the case lately with abigail. however, she would be such a liar if she denied that she cherished what she and ainsley had. “yeah….yeah…a lot.” a chuckle leaves her lips as she shakes her head at the other.

“five cavities? i know just the thing.” she immediately takes a cup and puts ainsley’s name on it, before getting on the register. she’s on double duty today, since her coworkers won’t be around in at least an hour. “yeah, we have those. want me to warm them up for you?” she says as she moves away from the register to start making the woman’s drink.

~~

The blush is light, you have to look for it, you have to know her skin to really pick up on the tiny nerves induced rush of blood. She has no interest in pursuing Traci, but she likes that she can still make her nervous. Ainsley had a miniscule amount of things that could be called relationships to begin with, but out of all of them this one was the only one to have ended...on good terms. Neutral terms? She used to like the brunette’s innocence, her sweet predictable stability. But there comes a time when you have to either let the butterfly go be beautiful elsewhere, or suffocate it in your mason jar. Traci was better flying free.

“Of course you do.” There’s a tiny imprint of the memory of affection in her voice, mingled with moderately judgmental teasing. Traci has what everyone needs, the perfect flavor, the right advice. “Why don’t you warm the one for me, but leave the other as is.” She looks over her shoulder towards the door she’d just come in through. “You know...usually the rule of thumb is that if you aren’t open yet you keep the door locked.  Your lack of self preservation based preparation has always been concerning Traci.”

@thehaydenbarnes​

She’d grown bored of people under less exacerbating circumstances. Kicked them to the curb because they stopped being fun playmates, stopped being exhilarating. Oh watching Hayden try to remove himself, the way his jaw would clench and he’d lean towards a blood stained scene like he was starving and inhaling the scent of a five course meal, was entertaining at first. For a week, two maybe. Not that she hated the way he put his hands on her afterward, angry, like he was mad she didn’t push him into the fray and mad she’d opened this pandora’s box inside him all at the same time.

“Hayden?” Her voice echoed against high church ceilings, stained glass windows, empty pews. She kept finding him here, begging for salvation, she supposed. He’d left the Casino today, before the first bone had even been broken. Such a shame. Such wasted potential. She could see the hunger under his skin even now, as she spotted him at the far left of the church. “Has anyone answered you yet?’ The question lacks compassion, she has no empathy for his brooding little existential crisis. Hayden is a masterpiece just two paint strokes from being complete and she needs those final splashes of color to complete him, to make him hers. “Have your prayers been answered? Have your hungers been sated and your thirsts been quenched?” He smells of nicotine and danger, Ainsley’s heels clicking against the floor as she hiked the skirt of her red dress up, gripped his shoulders and claimed a far better seat in his lap.

“I’m starting to think you like hanging with the idea of God more than you do playing with me.” Her lips hover, inches, breath gusting out, her hands smoothing down his chest. “Is that what I’m too assume, Mr. Barnes? You don’t want to play anymore?”

       clara’s night at pudding & pie was going great, she looked hot and was making a ton of cash. however, she just had to be giving someone a lap dancce when one of the newer girls was up on stage. a new girl who apparently didn’t know how to put fucking shoes on because before clara could even process what was happening a nine inch platform heel came hurling towards her head. “what the fuck,” the blonde hissed bringing her hand up to her head only to pull it away covered in blood. she picked up the shoe and threw back at the stage before speed walking to the bathroom..

       clara groaned at the sight of her forehead as she grabbed a towel and wet it before starting to wipe away the blood. oh my god what if she got blood on the person she was dancing on? fuck. it wasn’t long before she heard the door swing open, thinking it was her boss to rip her a new one for throwing the shoe back the girl whipped around quickly still wiping blood. “first of all, she deserved it to be thrown back at her in fact, she’s lucky i didn’t stab her with it. second of all, apparently you need to make sure dancers know how to put on shoes before hiring them hm?” she was going to keep ranting until she realized that the other in the bathroom was in fact not her boss. “oh fuck… sorry didn’t mean to like bite your head off.”

~~

Keep your friends close, enemies closer, and the strippers and bartenders closest of them all. That was Ainsley’s motto. No one got lips to loosen and spill useful information better than the people who served liquor and sexual arousal. And the pretty little Tinker girl had been oh so amiable in working out a little mutually beneficial deal, especially once Ainsley had brought out the really good cocaine, the costly high quality shit. 

“I can leave if you’d rather be alone,” she answered dryly, her tone less playful teasing and more a cold threat as she pulled a baggie out from her purse. “Perhaps I ought to since it sounds like you’re spending more time having catfights with your coworkers than getting me good quality information.” Teeth tug triumphantly at her lower lip as she clenches the baggy in her fist. “Shame. Cause this is fresh product, just dying to be cut up, just dying to get friendly with your nasal cavity.”

Some nights, Orrey really wondered what was in the drink of the poor bastard that allowed him to pass a drivers test. He distinctly remembered failing the written a minimum of 5 or 6 times, until a few selective answers magically showed up smudged on the inside of his sleeve. Just clear enough to help him pass. But that didn’t matter once it came to the drivers test and apparently neither did safety. Or at least that’s what he’d convinced himself of as he whipped around the railroad crossing gate just as it finished coming down. The train wasn’t there yet and he wasn’t going to let it make him late to his delivery either. He could see them waiting for him and whilst there were times, the idea of giving someone soggy fries gave him a certain thrill, he had an additional problem gripping for dear life in the back of his car. “You said you didn’t mind ride sharing. You just so happen to be sharing with some curly fries man.” He said as the terrified patron clung to the seat. When he finally pulled up to the indicated location of his food delivery, he climbed out to grab his DoorDash bag and watched as his Lyft rider scrambled out of the back and took off down the road. “Hey don’t forget to give me 5 stars!” He shouted after them before turning to the person waiting for their food. “Did you order from Cauldron Brewing Company?”

~~

“There we go now, Jeffrey, you’re mostly intact, you’ll definitely live. All in all this was a better night for you than it could have been considering you tried to cheat at my tables.” Her fingers dug into the back of the middle aged man’s neck, blood red manicured nails leaving crescent moons as she pushed him up the steps that lead to the storm shelter doors. Her favored exiting station from the basement. Secretive, leading out to a service road that was empty.

That was supposed to be empty. 

“What the fuck.”

Ainsley’s jaw tightened. When she found out who the fuck kept trying to door dash food to the discrete exit of the casino she was going to unleash a world of pain upon them, use every tool in her toolbox. “If you’re smart Jeffrey you’re going to follow my lead and behave, understood?” She gives him a warning pinch to the back of his neck.

“Must have been one of my staff. The night shift gets the munchies,” she answered, voice carefully focused. “Do you have a name for the order?”

well. fuck. traci’s got an hour left. it’s her turn to open potts coffee shop today. she had a long night at pudding and pie, got home almost four in the morning. as much as it pained her to leave the bed without abigail waking up to her. she had to be there or she’s going to be fucked. the barista got ready in less that thirty minutes, made sure that she’s already had coffee brewed for the younger girl and her breakfast when she wakes up, before almost sprinting to her place of work, which luckily isn’t far from where they live.

she got there fifteen minutes earlier before she was supposed to open, still a lot of time for her to set up. she quickly heads to the back and puts her apron first before setting up the tables and chairs. of course, she had music on. it helps her do her work smoothly, keep track of things more. she was just behind the counter, tying her hair up in a messy bun, her back facing the doors when she hears the bell ring, telling her that someone just came in.

“we still have a few minutes left–but good morning, welcome to potts coffee shop.” she wipes her hands against her apron before turning to someone who she would’ve guessed their first customer of the day. “what can i get you?”

She’s not a fan of the chipper trilling of bells. The coffee shop is too homey, too decorated like a middle class grandma’s living room. But the lattes are good and the scones are even better. A girl needs a proper breakfast before taking over the world. “What are a few simple minutes between friends,” she answered, a wickedly gleeful edge to her voice. It’s not that she feels animosity towards Traci, the breakup was about an amicable as these things could be for Ainsley. She hadn’t destroyed a single one of Traci’s belongings in a temper fueled. “We used to be able to accomplish a lot in just a few minutes.” The words followed by a wink. She could never quit unsink her claws from other people, to remind them the hold she had over them at one point.

Ainsley invited herself to head over to the register, leaning against one of the bake cases and perusing the menu. “My sweet tooth is screaming this morning. Be a dear and whip me up something sure to give me at least five cavities? Do you have any of those savory herbed scones today?”

(AISHWARYA  RAI BACHCHAN , 40, CISFEMALE, SHE/HER) Happily ever after doesn’t appear to be in the cards for [THE QUEEN OF HEARTS] from [ALICE IN WONDERLAND] or should I call them [AINSLEY HARTE]. I’ve seen them walking around town posing as a [OWNER OF ATRIUM CASINO] but I know the truth. It’s a shame really. I’ve heard they’re very [AMBITIOUS & INDEPENDENT] but I always imagined them [QUICK TEMPERED & VIOLENT] This new look for them [RED HEELS, KNIVES, A BLOOD STAINED CARD DECK] really ruins my childhood imagine.