This gets his attention. It's not like he's been ignoring you, sitting at your feet, working on his latest project for the circus, hands working skillfully on his craft.
But touch starvation had been gnawing you, and that night more than others.
Out of the corner of you eye, you see his head snap up in your direction and for a moment you think he's going to tease you. But after a second more you feel the coldness of the mask against the skin of your legs and hear the distinct sound of his lips smacking together, signaling a kiss.
You hold your breath for a second, focusing on the lingering tingling sensation against your skin, almost afraid that's all you're gonna get from him.
But then another kiss comes, and then another, and another along both of your legs and all you can do is whimper and clench your thighs as you feel his clawed finger across your skin.
"Did I not give you enough attentions, my dear?"
Your hands find their place between his soft curls, an almost unconscious habit.
"It's not that-"
"But of course, the problem is that you're such a needy little thing, aren't you?"
That draws another whimper out of you. You can feel the kisses moving higher, the smoothness of his mask gliding upon your skin, and he's moaning softly as if simply kissing your legs is enough to bring him pleasure.
"What should I do with you, hm? Will my kisses even be enough to satiate this hunger of yours, sweet one?"
You want to argue that you'll accept anything you can get from him, you don't feel like being picky tonight. The sound of his smooth voice, the sensation of his hands your skin is, and his masked face leaving those fake kisses on you, the mix is making your head spin and your heart ache so good.
But you have to remind to yourself that there is one specific thing you asked of him.
"I want a kiss"
This time the words are barely above a whisper, but it seems that he hears you clearly.
His movements stop, and his head rises once again to stare at your face. You can't bring yourself to meet his eyes, or else you know you won't be able to think straight anymore. The weight itself of your request is getting overstimulating.
But even if you're not looking at him, you can hear the rustle of his clothing and the soft ringing of the bells as he raises.
He palaces a hand on your shoulder, but he doesn't even have to apply any pressure on it. Your body is moving on its own, and you're already lying on the mattress where you had been sitting.
From this position, you eyes can't help but wander, ending up on his face for just a second before your sight is taken away. He places one hand on your eyes, covering them.
You hold your breath, afraid that the wrong moment could shatter this moment of bliss, just as you're afraid of how he's going to poison you that night. One of your hands clutches his costume, the other rests on the sheet, waiting uncertainly for his own to join it.
But, with your surprise, what touches your free hand is not his own, but the coldness of his mask. He had removed it and placed it in your hand, wanting you to know what he was doing. That he was bare for you, even if you couldn't see him.
Your mind scrambles to try and come up with a coherent sentence but all that escapes your mouth is a strangled sound, and even that is cut short by his lips pressing against yours.
The texture of the skin of his lips that rubs against yours is weird to say the least, it's easy to understand that whatever is kissing you isn't human. But, being a freak yourself, your mind doesn't concern itself with that detail, focusing instead on following the movement of his lips against yours.
You moan softly when his forked tongue slips into your mouth, and Harlequin answers with a moan of his own. And as your tongue meets his, your hand - the same one where he had placed his mask, now abandoned on the sheets - reaches for his curls, sinking into them, while your other one grabs at his costume with more urgency, pulling him impossibly close to you.
All is left for you to do is melt against him, chasing after his lips when they leave yours. You whine pathetically, but then clown must feel particularly generous tonight, because his mouth is once again pressed against your skin, on your cheek this time, and then lower, kiss after kiss, on your jaw, your neck, your shoulder and your chest.
And there he stops, lying on it and you can feel his warm breath, somethings that's usually impossible because of his mask.
He remains there, silent for a bit and you're more than happy to focus on catching your breath, while gently petting his hair.
Then finally:
"Was that good enough of a kiss, dear one?"
You let out a shaky breath.
"Harlequin"
He lifts his head from your chest, and even though if his hand is still on your eyes, you can feel his warmth drawing closer to your face. Then his voice is right next to your ear, making your shiver.
"Yes."
You can't do anything to stop the small smile that spreads across your lips
"Just one more kiss."
It's finally time! The moment y'all have been waiting for!!!
Let's torment these boys with our lovely lumps! I'll dedicate the last bullet to a reader who's insecure about their bitties but remember, all titties are good titties!! I feel as if regardless of your body type the boys will love every inch of you, and honestly you should too!
(I'm going to default to a Gender Neutral reader due to the overwhelming majority of asks being non-gendered. Next time I open up my requests, I'll add some more clarifications for gender preferences!)
Your body is your own temple, you can decorate it however you wish, polish the pillars you find appealing, and leave yourself offers at your altars, but if you don't upkeep your temple it can cause lasting damage that will just take time to mend. As someone who is learning self love, there's going to be days where you don't feel adequate, and that's perfectly fine! Healing isn't always straightforward. Even if you scrub one tile of your temple it'll make what's left to polish a bit easier, so treat yourself with the same level of kindness you show others, hunt for the things you like about yourself and take baby steps into your own self devotion! Life is too short to be worrying about how others perceive you, all that matters is learning to love the temple that is you!
Tags: NSFW, highly suggestive, GN reader with smaller tits!, no smut, reader occasionally has bare titties out
The Freak Circus is an 18+ Visual novel Themes include but are not limited to: dark elements, strong language, sensitive graphic content. My works can depict similar themes and are not intended for minors.
Pierrot
No matter what you wear around him his eyes are constantly scanning your figure, of course when he thinks you're not looking at him eyeing you like a piece of meat. He feels so incredibly blessed that his darling is so alluring, especially if you flaunt your beauty so openly. It takes him some time to realize that you specifically wear certain clothes around him, or how you'll use his height to your advantage and wear a wide neck shirt with a stunning view from above. Wearing cute bras or sometimes even no bra at all, making him acutely aware of any chilly breeze that kisses your skin.
He tries to hide his excitement when a new bra peeks through your shirt or when he catches a glimpse of a particularly free breast through a low cut top. His mask unintentionally selling him out by putting his fanged grin on full display as his thoughts race a mile a second. Primal hormones occasionally override his loving persona however, and sometimes he cuts activities short to properly show you his admiration.
If you bring up feeling self conscious about the size of your breasts though... He has no choice but to show you just how perfect they are, right? Delicate touches trail up and down your sides as he purrs all of your features that drive him crazy with lust. His hands dwarfing your sensitive mounds as he kneads them, being mindful of his sharp claws as he rolls your nipples in between them, muttering prayers to your divinity under every shaky pant.
His overall favorite part about your breasts however is how they frame your heart. Providing him with easy access to the thrumming in your ribcage when you share a bed. Often finding himself lulled into a sense of peace when he drapes his hand in between your breasts, feeling your heart throb against the back of his hand.
Your new bra was definitely pretty and comfortable, when you could actually manage to put it on properly. Every time you decided to accept the challenge of dueling with the eyelets you were placing bets on just how long you would struggle for before throwing in the towel and submitting to a slip on bra, or even just going braless to spite the fabric's entire species.
You strain against the confines of your frame as you urge the hooks to marry the eyelets in unholy frustration, you glance down at the outfit you laid out, pleading for it to give you a reason to stop this battle of the week. A deep huff and-
"M-my love, can I help?"
You're suddenly acutely aware of the towering carmine clown behind you, his face seemingly reflecting the hue of his costume as drool creeps out of the corner of his faux grin.
You error code, your duel with the lace quickly thwarted as you try to conceal yourself from his prying eyes.
"I'm sorry, my dear, I could not help but offer my help after watching you struggle for so long." He sheepishly pans his heart eyes around your room, finding the mundane suddenly immensely interesting. "Although I also would not be opposed to you not wearing a bra at all, if it makes things easier." His grin sharpens at the thought.
He leans over your shoulder, his head brushing against the curve of your neck, a subtle purr vibrating your sensitive skin. He traces your prude display, being mindful of his claws as he teases the delicate flesh you hold from him.
"Your body is a thing of beauty regardless of what you drape over it. Anything you adorn simply enhances your ethereal figure and adds kindle to my flames of passion, my love."
Harlequin
Just like Pierrot, Harlequin's eyes are always glued to your figure, he's just not the type to be shy about it. He's not above making direct comments about your tits, especially when you wear such revealing bra and shirt combos, or even just shirts. Even if you try to ignore his obvious attention to your chest, he always finds a way to get some form of reaction out of you, whether it be an obvious glance down, a cheesy pickup line, and in some drastic attempts, even going as far as to tease your nipples through your shirts, (it was an accident, he swears). If you decide to wear no bra however, prepare for a very touchy day filled with him ghosting his claws over your skin, forming not only goosebumps, but other tantalizing effects.
He absolutely commits each one of your bras to memory, often making connections to your mood based on which one you decide to put on, subconsciously or not. Although it's always a welcome surprise for him to see you wearing a new bra he hasn't catalogued yet. Often teasing you about "not having to buy new lingerie just for him", and how "not to worry, the spark hasn't died out just yet". That being said, he is the sole reason for you buying new bras, since he gets too impatient with the art of unclasping the barrier to your bosom.
Some of his jokes do tend to dance along the line of bullying sometimes when it comes to the size of your breasts, and if you already struggle with your body image, it can lead to some issues later on. Luckily though he can pick up on when his 'jokes' don't land how they're supposed to. Often halting his advances and toning down any teasing until you start believing his indirect apologies.
Much like Pierrot, his favorite part about your smaller chest is being able to hear your heartbeat clearer, although on a more intimately closer sense. He eventually finds himself only able to get a restful sleep with the thrumming of your heart beating against the coolness of his mask, your heart a soothing symphony to his racing thoughts in the dead of night. Of course he never admits the comfort you provide and always gives you a pervy reason as to why he has to nestle into your sternum every night you spend together.
"You know I didn't mean it, predileto," he huffs out, grabbing you by the shoulder firmly, stopping you from turning away from him, "c'mon, don't be like that."
You don't even remember what underhanded joke he tried to make, your mind buried it as it snowballed through your familiar insecurities about your chest size. Tears began threatening to creep out of the corners of your eyes as you refused to meet his concerned gaze.
"Merda..." His grip softened at the pitiful sight before him. "You could've told me how much it bothered you, my dear," he hesitates slightly, trying to find the words to disarm the hair trigger trap he made for himself.
He takes a deep breath before adverting his own eyes from your potential gaze. "We all have our own insecurities, and it's wrong of me to poke fun at yours." His fingers leave your shoulder to card through his hair, "out of all the insecurities humans have, your chest size being one is sort of laughable, though." His cocky grin grounds you momentarily at the shock.
"Oh, don't act so surprised, dear one. Have you seen yourself in the mirror? The clothes you wear? The way strangers whip their heads just to see you one more time?" A light chuckle follows his honeyed words. You habitually brace for the other shoe to drop, but it never does, at least not this time. You glance up at him and see him nervously fidgeting with his curls.
"I see how they look at you, how he looks at you, and I can't help but feel jealous in a way. It makes me want to claim you as mine." His eyes flick dangerously back to yours, his nervousness instantly leaving the air as he finally catches you in his trap.
You feel tentacles coil up your torso, writhing and slithering under the hem of your shirt as they continue their journey towards that siren's song of a heartbeat. You struggle slightly against him, willing yourself to at the very least be mad at him for putting you in such a depressive state, but the coldness of the smooth scales of his tentacles take you by surprise.
"Your body reacts so deliciously, I might have no choice but to claim you as mine, would you like that? My sweet, little, titmouse?"
There it was. That was the stupid joke that caused your insecure spiral to reap it's dues on an otherwise beautiful day. You shoot him an irritated glare as you feel one rope coil around a bare breast and another toy with your now hardened nipple.
He laughs at your realization, and internally breathes a sigh of relief from his brief moment of vulnerability. His eyes hold a deeper feeling however, one he refuses to acknowledge even with himself. The tentacle wrapped around your breast shifts slightly, opting to rest comfortably curled in his favorite part of your appetizing body.
Right above where your heart races against the coldness of his scales.
Jester
Although you can never catch him, he does steal many glances at your figure, more than he cares to admit. His mind often takes the much needed time to properly admire your outfits and let his imagination wander as he dresses you in more appealing attire. He knows your games, however. He knows how you purposefully don't wear a bra on especially chilly days, as a feeble attempt to grab his attention. You would never be able to tell how much your charms actually affect him behind closed doors though. A new bra causing ink to pool on an invoice. A new shirt causing him to reread the same line four times. A revealing angle causing him to lose his train of thought. Such a troublesome pet you are.
Any complaints you air about any bras you wear are duly noted to him despite his annoyed huffs. It isn't until you find new bras waiting for you in your closet that you piece it together. Often with new styles and materials you never even considered let alone affording in some aspects. Various colors allowing you to properly coordinate your outfits, and the support/framing up to model standards. Of course if you bring this up to him expect him to congratulate you in a sarcastic tone for finally figuring it out.... Finally...?
He's far from naive when it comes to "conventional" beauty standards in the human society, and sure his kind has some standards, but none as asinine and genetic based as humans. Hearing you berate your body for not being in a cookie cutter shape or seeing you shy away from his touch fills him with a new level of loathing for your kind.
Although he doesn't have a specific favorite thing about your chest, he does have the same interest in your heart being so bare to him, so ripe for the harvest, so rightfully his. One of his interests is dressing you in flattering outfits, after all, pets are a reflection of their owners, right? A common theme of his outfits however is your chest, mainly how exposed or adorned it is with accents of stars, his claiming on what belongs to him and him alone.
You were just scrolling on your phone when yet another seemingly targeted ad interrupted your night of calm. Sharing space with Jester while the two of you did your own things was a quality he appreciated and a time you cherished. But this was now the third ad for the same bras you couldn't fit in. Every ad had a busty pretty thing showcasing the overpriced lingerie in a borderline suggestive tone as an effort to boost sales, but you couldn't shake the feeling of envy for what lay past the fabric. You attempted to ground yourself, shifting slightly in your loungewear, longing to feel what it meant to be like the person in the screen.
"Your self depreciating thoughts are distracting me from this predictable plot twist, pet." He adjusts his book in his hand before resting the cheek of his mask on the other.
"Your kinds' beauty standards are truly pitiful," Jester's words hit you like a lightning bolt back to the present moment. His amethyst eyes pinpricked at your screen, a twinge of disgust laced his words, "valuing such a shallow thing as looks it fitting for humans, I suppose."
You pause the advertisement only to be redirected to the items listing, even the mannequin had a bigger set of tits than you. You could feel the familiar gloom creeping in despite the double edged comment.
You could feel your heart grow heavy with the self consciousness weighing your mood down, and Jester must've felt it too.
The sudden page turn caused you to tense.
"You are more beautiful than any of the humans that come across your phone, o predileto." His eyes paused in his printed lines, dilated and half lidded. "True beauty lies in actions over appearance, and I don't take in mutts."
It takes you a second to figure out he was complimenting you, and a pretty big one at that. He flicked his eyes towards yours and you saw a sense of tenderness you rarely witnessed before his pupils sharpened to their regular diamond shape.
He presented his opened palm towards you.
"Let me see if I can tailor something similar for you, my perfect pet."
Ticket Taker
The only one in the troupe to feel a little guilty for glancing at your chest. He falls victim to your antics too easily for his own liking, although his poker face saves him almost every time, often coming up with a clever reason or excuse to take his attention away from your cleavage. Although the image still hangs on the back of his mind for the remainder of the day. His ultimate weakness however is whenever your nipples harden through your shirt. The way your bra sometimes sneaks past the neckline of your shirts has been the reason for a few papers to leave his desk with a suspicious pool of ink at the signature line. It's just the bargain pens though... Yeah... Cheap pens...
You end up learning that different bras affect him in different degrees. Of course, the skimpy ones have an effect on him, but not nearly as much as a traditional solid colored one. The simplicity and domestic nature of a basic bra is something that can't be beat in his eyes. (Lace bras are a close second to him). He's a gentleman of tradition after all, so accidental cleavage is the one way to get him to possibly break his persona.
If you bring up feeling like your chest is inadequate all lewd thoughts dissipate and are replaced with reassurance that you have nothing to feel insecure over. Depending on the time of day and overall mood between the two of you it can get into a hands on explanation on just how hard it is to focus around you. If you're in need of authentic real reassurance he's not opposed to let down his walls slightly to share some of his own insecurities, although vague and left up to interpretation or a later discussion.
Much like the rest of the troupe however, he has an affinity towards your heart, mostly over the physical drum when he ghosts the back of his hand over your chest. The silent reassurance that you're here and alive is enough to chip away at the mountainous stress of everyday life. Although he always asks you before extending his gloved hand out and never presses it into you, allowing you to control how much pressure you allow him to claim.
You try another pose in the mirror and your faux smile falters. Your eyes scan up and down your body like a critical judge, knit picking every small flaw and blemish. You pan up to your breasts and sigh. The shirt you bought probably would've looked better if you had more to give the fabric. You paw at the slack threads, angling your chest in different ways to see if you could lay them in an appealing way, to seemingly no avail.
A blur catches your eye in the top corner of the mirror, a distortion, a distraction from your harsh judgement.
"Everyone has insecurities, dear one."
He clicks the pen closed and sets it next to the pile of papers before leaning back in his chair, his back popping in relief.
"It's entirely normal to have insecurities about one's body. It's part of life." He rolls his neck earning him another satisfying pop and groan. "I, for one, despise my need to complete things to perfection." His voice trails off slightly, debating on speaking his thoughts. "As well as my own figure."
He stands from his desk and joins you in front of the mirror, only his focus is on himself for once. His eyes hallow as he meets his own gaze, "the key is to learn to accept the truths before you and overcome the urge to become something you're not."
His eyes flick towards yours and the softness returns. His hand grazes your chin, gently urging it to tilt towards him. He exhales a breath he didn't realize he was holding before coaxing a strand of hair behind your ear.
"You are perfect to me because you are yourself."
Doctor
Is still the King of Unbothered-town. No amount of flaunting or teasing seems to affect him, although the attempts to end up interrupting his research when he allows his mind to wander. He's forever thankful whenever you decide to not wear a bra. The tease of being able to see your nipples harden in biological reaction is more tantalizing than any flirty sexual attempts. The subtle jiggle of your breasts a whisper to his desire to study you further. The thrumming of your heart a beautiful song he can change the tempo of at his beck and call. Your teasing attempts ultimately turn against you in exponential time.
If he had it his way you would wear nothing but gowns or nothing at all around him. Your body itself is a thing of biological beauty and deserves to be displayed in it's full natural glory. It takes some time but he eventually grows to like lace. The intricate designs highlight your skin and provide him with a teasing veil to remove when his curiosity piques. The thin material also allows your nipples to still announce the chilly air of his lab free of any padding.
Insecurities confuse him. Being a logic driven being the idea of being insecure or shameful of a body part of all things is nearly incomprehensible. You would have to explain your feelings and issues in painful detail, followed by references of course. Once he eventually gets a grasp on the idea of your self consciousness he attempts to reassure you in the only way he knows how. Education. Painfully blunt education.
Your entire chest is one of his favorite parts of your miraculous body. The delicate skin that provides blood to your perfect mounds, to your ribcage that act as a platter to said mounds, and a barrier to your four chambered heart. Your atrium and ventricles sending your personal melody throughout your body in bursts of breathtakingly gorgeous blood. Give him the chance and he'll map out your major arteries and veins in marker, starting with a surprisingly detailed sketch of your heart. Although this activity tends to get out of hand as he begins to map out more of your body's systems with more markers.
You take a ragged breath, exhausted from trying to reword your explanation of beauty standards and how you don't fit in a few of them, mostly the chest department. Explaining the societal structures for thirty minutes turned you from a gloomy husk, to a frustrated complainer, to a desperate teacher.
Doctor crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair, the reinforced legs still creaking at his size. A small grumble slips out into the tension.
"Beauty standards sound nothing like regular standards. Why compare yourself to something that constantly changes and isn't concrete?" He adjusts his mask slightly before curling his hand under his chin in thought.
His leg begins to bounce as he tries to compile the information you gave him into something that made sense. The fidgeting becoming more erratic the more he tried to piece it together.
"Hip dips, hiplets, muffin tops, thinspo, fitspo, apron belly, love handles, thunder thighs, butterface..." He mumbles to himself, increasingly becoming agitated, his boot now making an audible noise as his leg bounce increases.
"All of these 'beauty standards' when the only one that matters is the beauty of anatomy and biology." He huffs in frustration and his leg rests. "If you're body is healthy why does it matter what it looks like. You feel this way about your breasts, sweetie?" He tilts his head to the side.
You flinch at his bluntness before nodding slightly, your arms crossing in front of the topic of conversation.
He focuses on your body language and rises from his chair, the legs screeching behind him. He stands over you but his energy shifts from frustration to a towering gentleness. He palms your shoulder, his touch a bit heavy handed but well intended.
"Your body should be the beauty standard because it is yours. It is miracle of biological machinery that is both the weakest engine yet the strongest marvel I have ever set my eyes upon."
You might have to explain it for thirty more minutes.
I know jester is a manipulative, evil, cannibal, asshole.. but we don't gotta write him like that in every ficđđ Cmon yall i need some fluff and all i get is ANGST đ
Because...here's the final!!! đđđ FINALLYYYYY
I struggled with the coloring because I'm not used to dark atmospheres or something like that in animation. Still feel like it could be better, but I'll definitely do better next time!
Khol tends to have a drop in energy towards the end of his shifts as a line cook. You proposed to bring him a coffee and a little snack, and he turns that idea into sneaking you into the restaurants break room so y'all can have a little date. Also DAMN THIS MF CAN COOK HOLY SHIT YOU WERE IN LOVE!
Warnings: The people who worked as chefs in the restaurant that Khol currently works at back in the 70s did cocaine in the corner of the break room but that's not really relevant to the plot
Borders were done by @vexinghearts
You had to say, you had never once, before this moment, had a relatively mundane request turn into a full blown mission that had you feeling like you were coming to deliver the fucking nuclear codes.
I mean, you could really feel the spirit of the mission impossible theme song right now.Â
But like.
The stupider version that Kronk hums in the Emperor's New Groove.Â
You didn't have the royalty money for the actual theme. Broke ass.
You were currently being snuck into a restaurant (thank you Zeke you are a hero) through the back alley door. Y'know? The one where trash is taken out and employees go out of to smoke cigarettes and contemplate how badly they needed their jobs. Could they cuss out their boss or their customers today, or was rent due?Â
The question of life, truly.Â
You had called Khol a bit early yesterday, just as he had gotten into his car after his shift and was taking a minute to gather up his will to live before he drove home. He still sounded plenty chipper when talking to you, don't get it wrong! He just seemed a little less talkative than usual.Â
You had asked why, worried that he was working too hard, or that there was maybe a coworker he didn't get along with, but no. Turns out he just tends to have a sudden drop in energy towards the end of the dinner or lunch rush.Â
Makes sense. Working in a restaurant, especially as a line cook, could take a lot out in a person. Working through any type of rush and getting into a flow about it could easily give you a sudden drop when the end was finally in sight. You could understand that just fine.Â
So! You asked Khol if there was anything you could do to help.
He invited you over for the night, which you had happily accepted, as you were off and he had worked the morning shift that day, so it was only the early afternoon and you didn't have a problem with getting your ass over to his house for some...time together.Â
But you also had the bright idea of of bringing him a little snack.Â
"I could get you some coffee! And something small to eat too- do you like dark chocolate? It's plenty bitter, and I think there's a little candy shop by my place that sells it real dark-"
"Wait wait wait wait wait! Here me out!"
Now. You had originally planned to get the snacks and give them to Khol either before his shift (coffee would be cold by the time he needed it. Plus, he's probably just end up drinking it in the car on his way to work and get too much energy too early), getting yourself a seat for dinner in Zekes section and then making him deliver the stuff (too many problems with that. Zeke would be feeling the slam before Khol would and you didn't want to give him more work. Also Khol had said that if it looked like one waiter was giving one chef special treatment, then every other chef would take it out on them during the shift. Damn), or just having Khol make a quick run out the door in the back before the rush fully set in and you could give him the coffee and the chocolate yourself.Â
And that's when you heard two beautiful seconds of silence before Khol started manically laughing like the cartoon villain be was always meant to be.Â
You can not believe you gave this man your number. Holy shit.
So now here you are. Sneaking in through that door to meet up with Khol for a quick little date for the duration of Khols break before the dinner crowd arrived.
You had also brought a much sweeter chocolate bar and a latte for Zeke.
As a gift? Nah. As a bribe.Â
Well. Kind of as a gift. Zeke was still your friend and he was being super cool right now. He deserved a little treat too.Â
Speaking of treats. That dark chocolate bar you got for your boyfriend? The super bitter one? The one you picked out for him because it was 85% coco? That one? That one costed you EIGHT FUCKING DOLLARS ARE YOU SERIOUS RIGHT NOW?! THE COFFEE WAS LIKE TWO!Â
Zeke gives you a spare employee uniform that's just a bit too big for you. Although exactly whose uniform it is was a mystery that will just have to be left up to God because you sure as shit weren't about to ask questions.Â
"If anyone asks, your new here."
You raise a brow at Zeke as he leads you through the building.Â
...Yeah ok Zeke. There was a little problem with that though.Â
"Won't they notice when I ain't here tomorrow then?"
He just shrugged.
Ok then!Â
"Yeah, but we'll just act like they're crazy. The people who eat here are a rare kind of stupid, so it won't be too unbelievable. Just be natural- oh. Thank you."Â
You hand him the latte and the sweet caramel chocolate you bought for him. (It had melted caramel in it and that bitch still costed less than than the dark chocolate. You doubted you would get over this any time soon.)
"Mhm! Do you know if Khol is already in the break room?"
"Uh. I think he might still be in the kitchen? He said he's gonna... Hey. Have you eaten yet?"
"...No?" Did Khol cook you something?Â
"Ok good." Zeke left it at that.
...Yeah. Khol definitely cooked you something.
Sweet boy.Â
Zeke led you to the (shockingly empty) break room, and nudged you toward a conveniently shady spot in the back corner of the room that had a weird little set up with some curtains that just. Did not look like they were supposed to be there.Â
They were some seriously out of date shower curtains that were just hanging from a portable rack in the middle of the room.
Who the hell put those super convenient curtains up right there?Â
"Hey Zeke?"
"Hm?"
"Who put those super convenient curtains up right there?" You pointed at them.
Zeke side eyed you. You full eyed him back, because you commit, to both your bullshit, and your staring.Â
"...Those have always been there."
"... Huh "
".. But they really don't fit with the rest of the room, now that I think about it"
"..."
"..."
... Man, now y'all were staring at those things like they just told you your address or something.Â
You blinked.
"Hey."
"Hm?"
"How long has this restaurant been running?"Â
"uh let me think... Since like, sometime in the 70s, I think- Oh..."
"..."
"..."
Ah.
Of course.
And what did stressed out chefs in the 70s do in their spare time?Â
You looked at Zeke.
"Cocaine corner?"
He was going back and forth between looking at you, and squinting his eyes at the half hidden table.Â
"...Cocaine corner. Probably... Anyways" and then he gave you a single pat on the back and left you to your own devices in the employee break room.Â
...So you would be secretly meeting their boyfriend at the alleged restaurant cocaine corner.
What a delightful occasion this was! Truly, this was the highlight of your day!Â
You sit down in the chair that's being most obscured by the curtain and put the coffee and the chocolate (eight fucking dollars dude!) on the table.Â
Now all ya gotta do is wait.Â
You really did hope that this helped him. You were pretty sure it would, if he didn't shoot he idea down-Â
No, no, Khol wouldn't have shot the idea down even if he knew damn well the coffee would do nothing. Coffee and caffeine can have the opposite effect on certain people and just make them sleepier, and you had no idea if Khol was one of those people. You hoped not, because you knew he was going to drink it anyway, just like the way you just knew, in the back of your mind, that Khol would find a way to come see you in person to collect the snacks from you when you mentioned dropping off a little Pick Me Up for him today.Â
You smiled and fidgeted a bit with your hands. He really did always find an excuse to see you, or at the very least, call you.
He was always more than happy to do so, and even when Zeke Phoebe would let you know ahead of time that he's had a hard day and wasn't in the best of moods, he would never snap at you. Even on the rare occasion he was irritated with you specifically, he would handle it remarkably calmly, and he would always make things right as soon as he could.Â
He really did love you.Â
And now, apparently, he had found the time to cook you... something! Oh you were excited for that! Khol had many talents, but holy shit your man could COOK!Â
The door flew open with a sharp sounding squeak- and you meant it when you said sharp. Them hinges needed some WD40 or something.
But oh my God, Khol! Khol was in the doorway!Â
With a huge ass serving tray! Holy shit!
Wait holy shit. Why was he carrying... What the fuck? Why was he carrying three plates?Â
Sugar, you were hungry, but not that hungry!Â
Actually, you know what? Fuck the number of plates BECAUSE KHOL WAS HERE! LET'S FUCKING GO!Â
And he was LOOKING AT YOU-
There were no words on earth, living or dead, that could describe the emotions you felt watching just how starry Khols eyes got when they moved from the food he brought and landed on you.Â
"Honey!"Â
... The cocaine table can go fuck itself. THIS was clearly the superior highlight of your day!
HE LOOKS SO FUCKING HAPPY THAT YOU'RE HERE! ARE YOU SERIOUS?! YOU WERE GOING TO EXPLODE!Â
Ok shit. Shit shit shit. You gotta lock in.
He can't know that you're actually insane.Â
You smiled at him with the energy of someone trying not to tip off the police about their current acid trip, and also like you didn't want to bite him. Very difficult thing to do.
Hercules ain't got shit on this trial that you were facing.Â
"Whatcha got there, love? You seem excited" You moved the coffee and the chocolate you brought to the side so that he could set down the tray.Â
"Well!" He moved the plates from the tray to the table as he spoke, "You know I like cooking, and I like you- love you, actually, and I want to cook for you more, so I made you a little taste test platter that you can try!" And then he SMILED-
Ohhhh, you wanted to shake him. You wanted to shake him very hard. He was so cute. He should be in jail for being so cute. This should be a crime.
It's ok, you're fine with dating a criminal if it's him BECAUSE HE'S SO CUTE!
He pulled up a chair next to you at the Cocaine Table⢠(does he know about that? You'll tell him later) and you took to holding his hand immediately as he looked at you with the most charmingly boyish grin you've ever seen, and you smiled right back. You were so happy that he was happy. He deserved the world, in your humble opinion.Â
"Aw, Khol, thank you for this! I really do love your cooking", you wonder if it was possible to make him perk up even more? Uh... Oh! You looked him dead in the eyes and kissed his fingers. "And I love you as well, of course."
Annnddd instant blush from your boy!Â
THERE IT IS! You know, sometimes he was shockingly easy to fluster. For as blunt as he could be sometimes, you noticed he couldn't really take affection from you as well as he could dish it out.Â
Sweet, sweet boy, you have.
You leaned over and kissed his cheek- just cause you liked kissing him, really- and, gosh, you could almost see how the dial up sound effect was playing in his brain right now.Â
The hand you were holding started absentmindedly playing with yours as he tried to laugh it off.
You backed off to let him get his cool back, and turned your attention to the spread he had made for you.Â
And holy shit what a spread it was.
Seriously. This was way above your tax bracket, good lord.Â
Was. Was that a Cornish hen? You had never seen that shit before in your life. You honestly didn't know why you were focused so much on the shrunken chicken because there was also a steak. There was a whole ass lobster tail on the fucking platter right next to it.Â
Fuck. Were you forgetting an important date? Was it his birthday soon? Was it your birthday soon!? You know your anniversary was still months away, so it couldn't be that. Did you two have something super special planned that you had forgotten?Â
Khol! What the fuck was this, sweetheart?!Â
Khol just watched with a smile as you lost your mind. And he was gonna have to keep watching you lose your mind cause you ain't done yet!Â
Ok, so there was an appetizer plate, and entree and garnish plate, and a. Was that a sides plate? The dishes on that one looked relatively simple compared to the other two. Sauteed vegetables, a loaded baked potato, and mac and cheese. Stuff you'd expect from a bistro and done up in a way that looked way too fancy to be the things that they were. So, yeah, that was a sides plate.
Each plate full of three dishes, each that, if sold, could probably generate enough money for you to buy you and your boyfriend concert tickets to a band you'd both recently gotten into.Â
(You would need to take him on a date soon. He had been the one making all the date plans lately and you needed to spoil him too damn it!)
You cranked your head from the food over to Khol and- oh! He had found the coffee your brought him! Excellent.Â
"Khol."
Khol, now fully recovered, smiled, wide and toothy in a way that drew attention to his rosy cheeks and made you insane.
"So, you like it? You know it took a long time to plan out how I was gonna-"Â
Yeah, so anyways you climbed into his lap and started kissing him.Â
Dawg, what the fuck else were you supposed to do?! Either you were forgetting an important date that he was preparing a Gordan Ramsy ass meal for, or you were being spoiled just for the sake of being spoiled! By your boyfriend! That you were dating! Holy shit when the fuck did that happen?! How did you pull this man?!Â
He's cute, he's sweet, he's funny, he's rich-Â
Oh yeah, he's rich, ain't he? You forgot...
This behavior was in his budget, then.
Ok, so you were probably being spoiled for the fuck of it. Nice to know!
Praise be to financial stability!Â
Khol had apparently gotten a well enough factory update earlier that he was able to stabilize and kiss you back immediately with no hesitation. There wasn't any fumbling as he tried to figure out what to do with his hands like there had been in those darling early stages of your relationship. His arm just went around your waist and other his hand to the back of your head like it was second nature. The same second nature that made your own hands get right to the task of messing up his nice and neat hair as you gave him all the affection you could.Â
Progress, people. Progress. You had both came a long way from the idiots you were when you had your first kiss after your first date. Horray!Â
You personally think you should celebrate this one sided revelation with more kissing. Khol on the other hand-
"Hon- Honey?" He suddenly pulled back and turned his head out of the way from your kisses.
Ok then. You went for his neck instead.
YOU AINT GETTING AWAY THAT EASY, SUGAR! Â
"Honey?"Â
His voice was a bit breathless now. You loved it very much.Â
"Hm?"
"Listen, I love you too-" Annndddd a kiss on his jaw, and a kiss on his throat, and a kiss on the side of his neck, and a kiss to a stray strand of hair that had fallen out of that bun when you fucked it up like thirty seconds ago. Really, you were a bit distracted with this, "-i really, really love you too... Honey... Honey, my break is only 15 minutes..."
Ugh.
You pulled back and stared at his face. It was a great face. 10/10 face, and it was looking at you apologeticly (and a little bricked up but this ain't about that).Â
You groaned and crawled off. You'll just. Have to continue that later. When you weren't at risk of being walked in on by some poor employee. Didn't mean ya had to like it though! Khol was a very kissable man and you didn't like it when you couldn't kiss him!
Damn. What a bad day this was...
... Luckily, there was a bunch of food right the fuck there to distract you, and luckily, you had the attention span of a damn squirrel!Â
"... Oh wait, yay! Food!"Â
Damn. What a great day this was!Â
Khol laughs as he fixes his hair and wipes his mouth.Â
He looks so red right now.Â
Anyways!Â
"These are appetizers, yeah?" You point at Plate One.Â
"Yeah. Do you wanna start with those first?" Now, despite it being a question, he picked up the plate and eagerly put it in front of you before you could answer. Fair enough. Appetizers go first.Â
There were stuffed mushrooms, what looked like a spinach and artichoke dip, and chicken wings. Classic stuff! Wasn't as fancy as the meat choices, but you couldn't complain. You really can't go too wrong with these things! Plus, you didn't need super expensive fancy food to be happy. Khol was a professional chef, for fucks sake. Like you thought before, your man could COOK!Â
And cook he did, clearly!Â
The portions on all the plates weren't large, it was a sampling platter, after all, but they was definitely made to all add up to a full sized meal.Â
This must have taken a lot of time...
You grabbed your fork and stabbed a stuffed mushroom and plopped it in your mouth.Â
And then you had to contemplate the meaning of life because DAMN!Â
You thought this shit was just stuffed with cheese! It wasn't just stuffed with cheese! It had crab in it! And cheese! Fuck me, this was good! Khol ain't skimp out on seasonings neither.Â
You were about to ascend.Â
Were you even going to be able to enjoy food at a regular restaurant now by the end of this?Â
You looked at the plates yet to come. In all their individual, perfectly seasoned (you had no doubts about this), glory.Â
... You were about to get disappointed by restaurants for the rest of your life after this, weren't you? Aw man.Â
Whatever expression you were making (probably multiple in rapid succession), it had Khol laughing in his seat next to you. You could hear it loud and clear and he made zero efforts to hide it. What a menace. You adored him.Â
But eating by yourself was a little bit awkward to be honest. You picked up the other mushroom and all but shoved it in his face, to which he waved his hand at you dismissively.Â
"Ah! Oh, no Honey, I'm ok-"
"Oh come on! You made all this food and you don't want to eat it with me?" You said in a very real and totally not playfully offended tone that Khol recognized as being totally genuine and not fake at all.Â
So, in response, he very genuinely gasped and moved to clutch his non-existentant pearls.Â
"Honey! I never said that! How could you even say that?!"Â
Got em! Time to switch up.
"Fantastic! Now open up, sugar!" You smiled at him and put your hand on his jaw, trying to encourage him to open his mouth and let you feed him.Â
He smiled back at you and sighed, pushing his oh so very handsome face into your palm.Â
"...I've eaten all these before. I mean, I made the recipes!"
"I know, Khol... So, you won't eat with me?" Puppy eyes. Puppy eyes. You better have some puppy eyes right now! He's weak to those things!Â
Yeah. Now he's panicking a little. Perfect. It's all coming together.Â
"Honey, don't be like that. You know I love to eat with you!"Â
You only brushed his lips with your thumb and nudged the fork closer to him.Â
He looked at the fork. He looked at you.
Lieten. He knew you were bullshitting, but he also knew that you knew that he knew that you were bullshitting, and his break was passing by too quickly as is, so what could he do? Eat the damn mushroom, that's what!Â
I was really happy to learn that Illumi Zoldyck was one of the references! I used to like him a lot, and now that Iâve found out Khol is inspired by him, Iâm especially excited. It makes me want to try swapping their outfits and see how it looksâŚ
As a fellow 5'1" baddie, I feel legally obligated to write this
I have a lot of Troupe X Reader variants sitting in my inbox just waiting for me to sit down and crank them out. With me starting a new job literally today and just being overly in the trenches at home, I'm finding it hard to find motivation, but I'm getting better!
Tags: SFW, sprinkling in some real life scenarios I've personally found myself in (yes, including the stuck one, I may or may not elaborate), mildly suggestive in Doctors', very self insert of me I'm not going to lie to y'all
The Freak Circus is an 18+ Visual novel Themes include but are not limited to: dark elements, strong language, sensitive graphic content. My works can depict similar themes and are not intended for minors.
One "tall" order of shenanigans, coming up!
Pierrot
You had to be home soon, right? He knows your schedule can sometimes change last minute, and sometimes you do tend to pick up a few extra hours here and there, but you were running later than usual.
He laid sprawled out on your bed, his lanky frame barely fitting on the bed, minus his legs which dangled off of one side of the bed and his head off of the other. He glanced at your clock on the nightstand, only three minutes have passed since the last time he checked.
He lets out a whiny sigh, times like this really do solidify him as a dog for you, huh? He twirls his hair around his claw absentmindedly staring into the popcorning of your ceiling. He could clean the bathroom again, reorganize your pantry for the third time, recheck all of the dates of your medicine cabinet?
His ears sharpen to the sound of your key grinding into the lock, excitement billowing into his being, maybe he is like a dog after all.
You make your way to your bedroom and aren't remotely surprised to see your 6ft 5 clown boy loitering around your domicile.
"Hey Pierrot, sorry to keep you waiting, I had to grab something after I left work, I hope you kept yourself entertained enough?" You exhaustedly smile at him as you set your apron in the hamper and start laying out a change of clothes.
"My dear, I missed you so-" He starts to get up before you walk over to him, your scent mixed with the scent of the cafe cloud anything he was about to say. You gently caress the cheek of his mask causing him to melt under your touch.
His eyes lock with your tired ones as he can't help but purr at the sight of your disheveled state.
"You look so comfortable over there, it would be a shame for you to get up after your hard work today," you take advantage of him being lower than you and reach for his hand.
His eyes dilate and flick between your face and the movement of your hand guiding his to your lips as you kiss his gloved palm.
The sight of you over him paired with the sensual gesture, your tired eyes seeping nothing but pure admiration, and your lowered voice singing his praises?
A deep crimson flushes to his face as his eyes change to amber hearts, his fangs sharpening uncontrollably at this heavenly sight.
"I'm going to take a nice hot shower and get work off of me, but after that we can do something together. You pick though, I'm too tired to make any decisions today." You smirk into his palm as you press it into your cheek, gently nuzzling it before you start to walk away from him.
Within a blink of an eye he's kneeling in front of you, wrapping his arms around your waist, his large frame just barely allowing his head to meet your upper torso as he presses his face into your clothes.
"M-my darling, please allow me to drink in this moment a little while longer. Please, you look utterly divine from this angle, I want nothing more than to commit your ethereal form to memory." He peers up at you, this new angle paired with your low energy becomes a new high for him to chase.
After all, a good worshipper is accustomed to being on their knees for their deities, right?
Harlequin
"What's the matter, shortstack? Can't reach something?"
You've been trying to reach his face for three minutes now, you were originally going to try to be sweet and give him a kiss but now you're debating on giving him a nice welt on his cheeks for straightening his back when he noticed your intentions.
"Harley, stop being a dick," you huff in frustration, no longer indulging him in your attempts to get him to lower for you.
"What ever do you mean, my dear?" he lowers his frame towards you, setting the trap out to you plainly as he grins at you.
"I'm not going to keep trying to be sweet to you if you keep teasing me about something that's out of my control." You glare at him warning him that you'd cause a domestic scene in this store over his fun.
"I'm not sure what you mean," he tilts his head to sell the lie, "if you want something you can always just ask me, little mouse." He lowers himself a bit more, judging from the distance you could wrap your arms around his neck and possibly hitch a ride for when he inevitably straightens his back again.
You attempt to reach for his cheek again, only for him to very subtly raise his torso again eliciting a growl from you.
He laughs at your building frustration, "I'm sorry, pequenino, you make it far too easy." He lowers himself a bit more, his eyes changing from a playful gaze to a genuine assurance, "I swear I'm done now."
You defeatedly creep your arms around his neck being mindful of his horns and his disguise mask. The second he feels your hands interlace with each other he lowers himself a bit more, your forehead nearly touching his chin.
You gently pull him down a bit lower and press your lips to the side of his mask, the coolness a stark contrast to the warmth of the overdue sweet gesture. Your thumb gently rubs against his cool skin and you can feel his body relax under your touch, before his composure regains and a nefarious cackle creeps into your ear.
He straightens his back suddenly sending you flying with him, your gentle embrace turning into a scramble to secure yourself on your surprise airlift.
"Harley!"
"Relax, you're so dramatic," he feigns annoyance but lets a chuckle slip through his act. His arm comes around to support your weight and he allows you to adjust before walking off with his prize, both of you completely forgetting the basket of snacks you meant to buy.
Jester
"You have got to be kidding me"
"Do you think I want you to see me like this?"
It's bad enough that it took a lot for you to even call out for help, but for Jester to be the one to to see you in this state was added insult to injury, quite literally.
"I understand you humans are lesser beings than my kind, but really? Stuck under the bed? I thought you were above the common drabble of your species."
You can't see the face he's making but you have a good idea based on his tone.
You were looking for a spare bell of Jester's for a project you were planning on making when you thought to check under his bed, apparently the box labeled "Costumes" were only for past invoices to the circus' tailor and nothing more. When you tried to back out, however, one of your belt loops snagged onto the frame rung. It's bad enough it was a tight squeeze in the first place, but your struggle to break free seemingly just twisted the metal further into the threading of your jeans.
Here you are, ass out, torso smushed into the floor underneath your purple clowns bed, all without even asking for permission in the first place.
"It's bad enough that I lose track of your small frame in crowds, but now I have to worry about you sneaking into small spaces?" You hear his bells jingle closer to your predicament as your heartbeat races.
"Relax, I'm not in the mood to do anything, right now."
You can feel his presence right behind your vulnerable position and you brace for anything at this point.
He lifts the bed effortlessly, the snagged belt loop lifting your ass with the bed as you hear and feel it start to rip.
"Wa-wait wait wait!"
He keeps lifting it and the innocent loop fully shreds, sending you back to the ground.
"Just get out of there, I can mend it later."
You scramble to get back on your feet, your face flushed and your appearance disheveled as you try to assess the damage to your jeans.
"Stop"
You freeze and sheepishly avoid his stare as he looks at the hole in your pants. "It's an easy fix, but I need to do something about your habit of disappearing. I might put a bell on you after all." He sighs before glancing at his slightly skewed bed.
"Fix this before you leave, I've got to call our tailor about you, and I suppose fix your mutilated pants."
Ticket Taker
He's used to being the shortest member of the troupe sure, and yes, he's mature enough to not really be bothered by it. However, there was something fulfilling about seeing you strain and stretch to reach a coffee mug from the middle shelf.
He could help you unprompted, play his role as the typical traditional gentleman for you, but he'd be lying to himself if he didn't enjoy your struggle. Majority of humans are shorter than him, but you were definitely part of the lower percentile of your species. He finds himself equating your stature to the differences between stray mutts and a teacup breed relatively frequently.
Your frustrated sigh breaks him out of his mental Venn diagram.
"Sir, can you help me grab a mug? I really don't want to try to hunt up a step stool." You defeatedly lean against the counter and adjust your shirt that rode up from your attempts.
Bil finishes up his line in the circus' checkbook before slotting the pen clip. As he stands he straightens his suit, "how could I refuse such a polite request."
He picks up his own empty cup as he makes his way over to the counter, barely having to extend his arm to reach a mug when you had to strain to even barely touch the ceramic.
"Thank you, Ticket Taker, I really appreciate it." You take it upon yourself to rinse out his cup and try to ignore his piercing gaze.
Curiosity takes hold of him, "how would you have gotten the cup if I refused to help?"
"Well," you give a little hop to reach a hanging towel off the side of the neighboring cabinet, letting gravity help you with this everyday occurrence. "If I'm at home, I usually just climb on top of the counter, or drag a chair over. I know for my spice cabinet I have to use one of my dining chairs." You thoroughgoingly dry his mug with care and he can't help but imagine other situations where your height puts you at a disadvantage.
"That is, most unconventional." He makes his way over to the makeshift cafe on the counter, gathering up supplies for a new batch of extra strength coffee for the long night ahead.
"Yeah, but I always figure out a way. I've been short my whole life so I've definitely picked up a few tricks along the way." You set his mug next to yours, you cut yourself off, "what do you think you're doing?"
The sudden change in your tone causes him to snap his focus back to you, before he could correct your seemingly disrespectful interrogation, you give him your own correction.
"You're taking it upon yourself to make your own coffee when you have someone who makes complex coffee orders for a living right next to you? Do you want me to try to attempt balancing the checkbooks or something?" You dissolve any tension in the air with a lighthearted laugh, taking the expresso grounds out of his hand, "just tell me what you want and I'll brew it for you. We have most of the basic supplies here so I suppose I can give you an above-average cup off the clock."
He takes a second to process the kind gesture, "very well, dear visitor," he adjusts his collar self soothingly, before a cocky grin etches into his mask.
"I have a long night of balancing ahead of me. I'll take a Red Eye with a splash of caramel, surely that's not too tall of an order for you?"
"Ha ha, very clever, sir," you mock. You gather up the tools you need for an expresso shot, "I used to have a regular who ordered that drink's older brother, the Black Eye, so that's light work for me. I'll have it ready in a few minutes, I can bring it to you when it's ready if you want to go back to your papers."
Ticket Taker gives a proud chuckle before heading back to his chair and resuming his checkbook balancing, a slight smile gracing his mask. The smell of the expresso and fresh coffee fills the kitchen, your subconscious humming nearly drowned out by the growl of the expresso machine.
You meander over to grab one of the dining room chairs, being mindful of any noise the legs might make as you pick it up and walk it over to the cabinets again. His eyes trailing your movements as you delicately lower the legs to avoid interrupting his already distracted concentration.
You stand up on the chair with rehearsed precision as you grab the caramel from the top shelf and he can't help but feel the need to put everything out of your reach. Either to watch you as you gracefully cope with your disadvantage or be your kind gentleman in a sophisticated suit.
Doctor
"Hey, can you slow down a bit?"
"Right, sorry sweetie."
When you agreed to help your Doctor with his research, you never considered it would also be a workout. It was bad enough how you had to constantly as him what he needed you to do, or how you had to keep bringing him back to reality and explain his thought processes out loud so you could hear, but his strides were nearly quadruple yours.
"It's fine, I just have little legs and you keep getting stuck in your own world," you reassure him with a gentle but winded laugh. "Which vial did you need again? Was it #83 or #86?"
"Vial #86, it should be on the bottom left shelf," he buries his face into his notes in hopes of finding a new alchemical solution for a new anatomical hurdle. "Mind your back, it's nearly on the floor."
Finally you can utilize your smaller stature for something other than the butt of a joke as you easily close the distance to the floor. Finding the vial, you delicately transfer it to the rack on the desk.
"Interesting..."
Knowing his signature thought diversion, you turn around to see him shifting his focus to you.
"Doctor, you'll never get this done if you keep letting yourself get distracted." You tidy up the gathered glass, rotating the labels and assuring the caps were secure.
"You are aware that you are in the lower percentile for your height, yes?" He flips to a seemingly random page in his notebook and writes something down.
"Yes, painfully aware, thank you," you huff, already mentally bracing for the familiar punchline that usually follows.
"Painfully?" his goggles glint in the lamplight excitedly.
"Figure of speech," you attempt to diffuse the clinical assessment. "I've always been short, but I manage."
"I see..." Another scribble added to the page, "I've been keeping mental notes on you and your figure, you know." He pivots as he takes a hulking step towards you.
"I'd be concerned if you didn't at this point," you timidly mutter out, his strides were massive compared to yours, possibly even to a 1:4 ratio. If you tried to escape him how many strides would he need to catch up to you? It would have to be a shamefully low number, right?
"I would like to examine your muscles at some point, sweetie," he towers over you, his mask catching the light and his frame casting an intimidating shadow along the walls of his tent. "You body must've had to compensate to keep up with humans with average or even above average heights."
"What do you mean?" Your mouth moves before your mind could process the possibly provocative implication.
"The muscle groups of your legs must have grown stronger in order for you to keep up with average-height individuals. I have a theory that your smaller frame, and by extension smaller muscles had to expand and grow stronger in order to keep up with the demand of everyday life." His head tilts to the side in thought, as he refers to another page in his notebook. "I believe that your smaller frame is actually stronger in certain areas in order to compensate for your shortcomings."
"Very funny, it's unlike you to crack jokes, you know," you try to distract yourself to his visual dissection by reviewing sprawled out research notes, straightening them in no particular order.
"Cracking jokes?"
Massive hands slam onto the desk on either side of you, causing you to jump. The clinking of glass echoes throughout the tension as you begin to turn to face your overly inquisitive practitioner. The sheer heat radiating off of his body was a physical representation of the burning curiosity of his racing mind. One of his hands wraps around your small wrist, extending it out for his inquisitive urges.
"Theories relating to you are never mere jokes, sweetie."
a sudden thunderstorm has caused you to take refuge in your home, but not without company. it's just your luck that something like this would happen to you, isn't it? now itâs your responsibility to keep harlequin and pierrot entertained until the storm is over before they end up burning your entire complex to the ground... which is only made *slightly* more difficult by the fact that youâre scared of thunderstorms. this is going to be fun...
"a little whiskey and some reckless boys / and now i'll join in / there's something bad about this night already, let's get dark and heavy"
tags and warnings: pierrot x gn!reader x harlequin! VERY domestic harlequin... which IS a good thing. i just needed to get that off my chest. mc loves the rain but is scared of thunder. lots of fluff!!!! a little bit of comfort and a little suggestive! lots of pierrot-harley banter... obviously. acts of service as a love language. mention of jester's fear of fire. references to pierrot stalking mc/knowing the layout of their house as per usual. i deeply apologize because i didn't know how to end this one. forgive me đ
wc: 5.4k
there had been no chance of rain forecasted for today when you'd checked yesterday, or even when you looked this morning.
even as you pulled up the weather app on your phone now, the software was stupid enough that it still hadnât registered the fact that it was raining. it declared that it was sunny weather outside, as if to laugh in your faceâ and perhaps in the faces of the soaking companions behind you.
god, how does this happen?
you look behind you, at the two clowns standing awkwardly in front of your door. wellâ were they awkward? harlequin had a shit-eating grin on his face like he had caused the rain itself, and pierrot was⌠shaking. with what? you werenât exactly sure. nervousness? excitement?
âi know you can't take them off, but at least try to wipe off your boots, please..." you sigh, unsure of what series of events led up to this very moment.
and how had they charmed you enough that you were allowing shoes in your clean house? perhaps it wasn't charm as much as it was just pierrot.
pierrot, who was so heart-wrenchingly considerate (making up for the lack of such in his other half) that you knew if you asked him to take off his shoes, he'd be torn between pleasing you and insisting on keeping every part of his costume on. âand before either of you step a foot further into my home, iâm getting towels. dry yourselves off, and then you can do anything you want.â you begin to walk towards your nearby closet when one of them suddenly speaks up.
âanything?â harlequin makes you regret your words immediately, but you hear a thud behind you before you can even react. âhow dare youââ you're not even sure which one of them is accusing the otherâ as soon as you turn around, pierrot and harlequin are already wrestling. you can only be thankful you donât have anything fragile near your doorway as you quickly grab two towels from your closet, throwing them at your visitors, effectively stopping them in their tracks.
âdry off and behave,â you urge them with a pointed look. âiâm going to go change out of⌠this.â you pull at the edge of your soaked shirt with a sigh.
the rain was nice; you truly did enjoy it, but not when you were outside. the feeling of peeling off wet clothes stuck to your skin was far from comfortable, and you were forced to dry off your body with a cloth before changing into clean clothes. you were just exiting your bathroom, still trying to dry your hair, when you nearly jumped at the figure in your doorway.Â
âpierrot! you scared me,â you had clutched a hand to your chest instinctively, but you let it drop back to your side after realizing it was just him.
âmy dear⌠are you okay?â he takes a hesitant step forward, and upon seeing you smile, allows himself to move even closer to you. he tilts his head in concern, looking at the towel in your hand.
âyeah⌠iâm okay, thank you. iâm just trying to get my hair to dry.â you look up at him, trying to give him a bright smile that seems to make him blush. when he extends a hand forward, you hum in confusion, âhm? whatâs up?â
âi can help you, my dear? if you want, of course,â he offers shyly, and you perk up at the idea.
âreally? you would do that for me?â you could truly melt from the kindness he showed you. before meeting him, it had seemed impossible to meet someone willing to help others out of pure love in their heart, rather than obligation or for their own benefit. âpierrot, thatâs really kind of you. if you could, i would really appreciate it! my arms were starting to get tired, anyway.â you hand him the towel and he places it gently over your head, massaging your scalp as he attempts to dry up all the moisture. you mumble a small thank you to him as you lean into his touch.
today was supposed to go a lot differently, but at least you could be thankful, maybe, that the three of you hadnât been far from your apartment when the downpour started. your home had been the easiest place for you all to meet up at before you went out shopping, but after taking shelter under the awning of the closest building for half an hour, you had decided the rain wasnât going to get any better and offered for them to come over, instead.
âare you feeling sick at all, dear one?â pierrot asks from above you, still mainly focused on taking care of your hair. âare you cold? have you sneezed at all? do you have a runny nose? should i take your temperature?â
you let out a small laugh at his questions. you knew it was just coming from a place of worry in his heart, but he was almost beginning to sound a bit like doctor. ânope! i donât think iâm feeling sick," you try to reassure him with an energetic nod before you think about it more, "well... at least not yet. i donât have a hat like you guys, and this was all so unexpected that i didnât think to wear anything with a hood. i guess we'll have to wait and see if i end up catching a cold or not.â
his hands on your head pause for a moment and you look up at him, finding him deep in thought as he lets out an angry huff. âi should have given you harlequinâs cloak. iâm sorry, my star. i failed you.â
âhmm? what about me?â the look on pierrotâs face only darkens at the intrusion of another voice and you look towards the doorway to find harlequin leaning against it. he has two bottles of water in his hands, holding them by their necks between two fingers, swinging them lazily. you were glad he found water if he was thirsty, but seeing as this was the first time you had ever let either of them into your home... you could only pray your kitchen hadn't been ripped to shreds in the search for sustenance.
"harlequin..." pierrot glares at the man from over your head, and you can only stand there like a doll as you let them fight it out, "you should have given them your cloak to cover them from the rain. what if they get sick?" pierrot sighs as he finishes drying your hair, removing the towel from your head once he deems it dry.
âme? well, i thought you were huge enough you could cover our little one from the rain. my apologies that anytime i do something for them with you around, i tend to end up with several stab wounds,â harlequin feigns offense, bringing one hand to his heart while pierrot clenches his fist at his answer.
âlike thatâs ever stopped you before,â you joke to yourself but freeze when they both look at you. "ohâ i..." you didnât mean to say that out loud. you open your mouth to try apologizing again but harlequin speaks up before youâre able to.
âyouâre taking his side over mine, sweet one?" harlequin gives you a look, as if daring you to verbalize it, but all you can do is purse your lips, weighing your options. "that really hurts me, you know." he walks toward you, and you can feel pierrot tense up from behind you. âlook! i brought you water, and you didn't even have to tell me to go fetch you it. unlike this one over here, i don't need to ask. i already know how to take care of you." he puts a gloved finger on his chin, pondering his next words for a moment. "i will admit i do feel remorse for not protecting you from the rain, though, my dear. that red dog is even more useless than i previously thought. serves me right for leaving anything to himââ
you can only close your eyes as something red in the corner of your eye suddenly lurches forward, attacking the man in front of you. as much as you appreciate harlequinâs flirts, whether theyâre genuine or just attempts to piss off pierrot, you do wish he would keep his mouth shut sometimes. while itâs never gotten too out of hand so far, youâre not sure what you would do if the two of them got into a serious fight and you werenât able to separate them.
you watch harlequin dodge pierrotâs claws while keeping a firm hold on the bottles of water in his hand, and it brings a small smile to your face that you canât stop. something like drying your hair or bringing you water were such small things, yet you couldn't remember the last time someone had ever offered to do something like that for you. or at least, as harlequin said, without you having to ask.
pierrot had only asked how you were because he wanted to know what would help you best; they each had their own way of treating you, and you appreciated both of them. for most of your life, it seemed you had been on your own, but now you had not one but two people willing to do such little things for you.
but wait a secondâ
âhm? harlequin, you only brought two water bottles,â you point out when theyâve finally reached a stopping point in their fight, both of them huffing slightly.
âof course, darling. one for you, one for me. who else would i bring water for?â harlequin tilts his head with a knowing grin before his eyes look to the red man to his side. âoh! i must have forgotten that pierrot was here, silly me. althoughâ iâm not sure i would have brought him water even if i remembered.â
you know you have only seconds to act before doom strikes and grab pierrot's clenched fist, holding it between your two hands. âpierrot, itâs alright!â you try to draw his attention from harlequin back to yourself. âiâm not thirsty, so you can have my water. and if i need to... would you just let me take a sip from your bottle?â
âshare a water bottleâ! with⌠me?â pierrot turns red again, and his now relaxed hand leaves your hold to bring his fingers to his lips as he seems to think about deeper implications.
harlequinâs mouth curls in distaste at pierrotâs response, âuh, noâ if youâre sharing a water bottle with anyone, dear, itâll be me.âÂ
you let out a deep sigh, pressing two fingers to your temple. you shouldâve known your attempt would only lead to this; they would always find a way to argue, no matter what. âalright, never mind. if itâs that big of a deal, iâll just go grab another oneââ
âno, no! if pierrot is that thirsty, he can go grab one for himself,â harlequin elbows pierrot in the side, certainly harder than he needs to, but it pulls him from his thoughts all the same. âright? you can go fetch your own water, since you know the entire layout of this place anywayââÂ
harlequin's voice had dropped before he finished speaking, but pierrot seemed to hear what he'd said perfectly fine and had frozen up. âwait, what did you say? did something happen in my kitchen, harlequin?" you ask, already imagining harlequin tearing your place apart while he had been left unsupervised.
âoh, nothing, my dear. he just... told me where he found your waters since we've never been here before. iâll be right back, i promise!â pierrot gives you a smile on his way out your bedroom door, but not before giving harlequin a dirty look as he disappears down the hall.
itâs silent in your room for a second, save the patter of rain on the roof your apartment which reminds youâ âoh! harlequin, would you mind if i opened the porch door the tiniest bit? i love the sound of rain, and it sounds so much better outside.â
âhum~ of course, dear thing. here, let me open it,â he walks towards the glass door, sliding it open a crack. you certainly hadn't meant for you three to end up in your bedroom, but at least you could take advantage of the window in here and bring in a bit of fresh air. the smell of the rain immediately filled the room, accompanied by a small breeze which you eagerly welcomed. it had been getting a little hot in the room... or maybe that had just been the aftereffects of pierrot and harlequin's rage, but either way, now the sound of the rain allowed for a comfortable, calm silence to fill the air.
âjust let me know if you or pierrot get cold, okay? i can totally close it again.â you break the silence after listening to the rain for a moment, moving next to him to push your curtains farther to the side. your window would also allow you to keep an eye on the weather outside, but judging from how gray the sky still was, you didnât expect the storm to let up anytime soon.
he turns to you, a familiar jagged smile on his mask, âyouâre cute, little thing. but donât forget that this is your home; i'll survive being a little cold.â you hesitate to remind him there's one more person involved in your concerns, and he continues before you can say anything, "donât close it just for one of us if you enjoy the rain so much, sweet one. i would hate to see that pretty smile of yours disappear.â
he takes your flustered state as an opportunity to step closer, and his hand twitches at his side, as if he wants to reach out and touch you, but he hesitates. when you look up at him, nervously meeting his eyes, there's also a hint of surprise on his face for a second, like he wasn't expecting you to actually look at him, but it's quickly replaced by mischief. he cocks his head to the side, the bells on his hat ringing as he waits for you, curious about what you're trying to muster up the courage to say.
âharlequinâŚâ you mumble his name, hating how quiet you sound, but he laughs at your shyness anyway.
âwhat is it, kitten? what has you so red in the face, hm? you can tell me,â he leans down to get close to your face, and whatever intimate moment you'd just had with him moments ago has been erased. you're instead left with the feeling that you're about to have a sudden heart attack at his proximity and you try to avoid him, but he holds your jaw with two fingers, keeping you still.
ân-nothing! well⌠it's notâ iââ your question for him is simple, but thatâs precisely the problem. itâs so simple, so dumb youâre not sure if heâll laugh in your face or just straight up reject you. âi just.. wanted to ask if you wanted to watch the rain with me? and pierrot, too, of course. when he gets back. i... know it's not the most entertaining thing to do but, if it's you guys...â you trail off, unsure of if you should keep going. you had fully expected him to cut you off with laughter by now, but he's remained silent.
he looks taken aback by your question, and you're stuck staring into his eyes for a moment before he straightens back up to his full height with a laugh. âyou want watch the rain? hah!â your heart drops for a second at his laugh before he continues, âsweet thing, iâll do anything as long as itâs with you. that's what you were about to say too, right? come here. sit,â he guides you gently over to an spot on your floor so that you sit right in front of where he's cracked your porch door open. âpierrot's continued existence is unfortunate... but i suppose iâll put up with him if it means iâll have you.â harlequin had always told you that he was honest and direct about what he wanted, yet, he could never just say yes to whatever you asked. he always added something flirtatious to his response, and you didn't think you would ever get used to his intensity.
you both look out the window for only a brief moment in silence, knees almost knocking into each other before a creak on the floor makes the both of you turn back to your doorway. âpierrot! welcome back,â you smile, patting the floor near you. âcome sit with us!â
âtook your time, didnât you? might as well have not come back,â harlequinâs welcome back⌠can hardly be considered such. pierrotâs smile towards you disappears as soon as he hears harlequinâs voice, and he glares at the back of his head.
âyou hid them,â pierrot hisses as he lowers himself down to the floor, sitting just a little bit behind between you and harlequin.
âhm? hid what? i have no idea what you're talking about,â harlequin shrugs with a grin, not even bothering to look in pierrot's direction.Â
the way the poor water bottle crinkles in pierrotâs hand, surely on the verge of exploding, makes you immediately try to lighten the conversation: âwe were just sitting here to watch the rain, pierrot! i hope you donât mind, but we opened my porch door a little bit because i love the sound of rain. do you like this kind of weather too?â
as soon as his attention turns back to you, pierrot melts back into the adorable, gentle man you know him to be. âi like the rain as well! it makes travelling a little hard for the circus, but i think we all enjoy the atmosphere and sound. my clothes are also already quite heavy, so if i get them wet, they only become heavier. it can be a little bothersome, but it's nothing i canât handle, my dear. i assure you.â
you smile grows at his answer, happy to hear he shares a similar opinion about the rain as you. âi canât imagine how heavy your clothes must get! i guess i should have asked sooner, then, but you didnât get too wet in the rain when we were outside, did you?â
âno, my star. iâm completely dry, thank you for being concerned for my sake,â he mirrors your smile with a slight blush.
you turn to the clown next to you, âso you like the rain too, harlequin?â
âhmm?â he hums at the sound of his name, seeming to be pulled out of a trance as he languidly turns to meet your gaze. âi suppose i do. i like when itâs cold; thatâs what matters to me. it sounds different when it hits the tents than in your apartment here, though. i'm not sure which i prefer,â he suddenly grins wide, seeming to be reminded of something, âoh, did pierrot already tell you? if you think heâs a little dog now, itâs quite a sight to see him in the rain. all soaked and soggy like a puppyâ he smells like one, too,â he laughs as pierrot furiously denies his claim, bells tinkling again as he shakes his head.
you end up laughing with harlequin, hoping that pierrot didn't take offense to it. he had said himself that his clothes were weighty, and the image of pierrot in the rain came so easily to mind that it only made you giggle more.
you were also taking in all of the new information they had shared; while it wasnât exactly winter yet, it was coming up soon, and it would be your first holiday season with them. it made you curious what the circus looked like dusted in snow, with all the warm string lights peeking through. and did their costumes change to keep them warm, or were they already thick enough?
"now,â harlequinâs voice pulls you from your thoughts, âif you were wearing something white and you invited me to go out in the rain with you, i'd follow you immediately without a second thought~" he grins, suddenly inching closer to your face before he's smacked on the back of his head hard enough that he almost hits the floor. you can only cover your mouth in shockâ somehow, witnessing pierrot stab harlequin seemed less violent than watching the way he'd just been hit.
âyouâre disgusting," pierrot sneers at his companion in a voice so low you shiver. "my dear, we should really kick him outââ pierrot turns to you now, and you look at him for a second before your eyes dart back to the figure sitting back up behind him.
harlequinâs eyes are twitching, and you're not sure you've ever seen him look so angry, "now you listen here you big. bright red. freakâ"
he doesn't even finish the insult before they're attacking each other. again. at least up until now, their fights have been quite lighthearted, but this is what you were worried about; pierrot's easily on top of harlequin keeping him down, and yet he's still thrashing about on the ground, suddenly flipping pierrot over and raising his arm before you grab it in a flimsy attempt to stop them.
"wait! pleaseâ please don't fight in my apartment. my neighbors hate me enough already," you plead, remembering the last time you'd had company over. to be fair, they were drunk, but they wouldn't stop knocking over bottles and getting into fights loud enough that you were certain you were about to be evicted. it didn't matter how many apology cookies you baked, every time you passed a neighbor in the hall, they gave you a dirty look, and you weren't ready to further worsen your relationships with them.Â
the words seemed to catch both of their attentions as they slowly turn to look at you, abandoning their fight.
"who could hate a pretty thing like you?" harlequin grins.
"should i... erase them?" pierrot's response is much different.
you're helping pull harlequin off pierrot by the shoulders, nearly falling over when his long torso overshadows your own. "oh, that's not necessary. it was my faultâ" you squeak upon realizing your legs have ended up tangled in the mess of limbs, and you fall back, pulling both boys down with you.
"hm, i think i like this~" harlequin's in your left ear, and you open your eyes to see him above you. the intense look in his eyes immediately has you squirming, face growing hotter by the second.
"away," your eyes dart to pierrot, who is trying to shoo harlequin off of you, but he doesnât budge. giving up, pierrot turns from harlequin to you and immediately kneels next to you. "my dear, are you alright?"
"oh⌠iâm fine, i promise. sorry, you guys didn't fall too hard, right?" you try to give him a reassuring smile, allowing his hand on your back to help you sit up after pierrotâs given harlequin another particularly hard push that has him back on the ground.
"will you kiss my injury if i say yes?" harlequinâs voice is slightly muffled from wherever he fell on the floor, and you don't even have to look in his direction; you hear him get hit before you see it. "will you stop with the hitting, you big oaf?"Â
"alright alright," you interrupt them both before they can argue again. âi know itâs going to be really hard for you guys, but if thereâs any way we can try not to psychologically torment and fight each otherââ
a bright flash and loud boom suddenly fills the room and has you frozen and unable to breathe for a second. then, itâs like your lungs have a hole in them and you need to breathe. over and over and over.
before you can even recover, another deafening crack came from outside and you jump, a small whimper escaping your lips on accident.
you had been trying to control and stabilize your breathing as best as you could so as to not draw attention to yourself, but who were you kidding? there were three of you total in this room, and they were both looking at you.
pierrot has a hand on your back, rubbing small circles to help you through your breathing. âmy starâŚâ he trails off, voice filled with worry.
âhum~ are you scared of thunder, dear thing?â harlequin finishes for pierrot, who hesitated to point it out.
and you struggle to answer, which is enough for them to come to a conclusion. yes, youâre afraid of thunder, and you know you can trust themâ you can tell them, but it's always been embarrassing to admit.Â
no other loud noise seemed to get you as bad as thunder did. you thought maybe it was because of how unpredictable it was; compared to something like an arriving train, flashing lights and bells prepared you for the arriving machine, but it didn't matter if you saw a lightning flash or not, it was impossible to predict when the thunder would boom, how loud or close it would sound, and how deep you would feel it in your chest. whatever the case might be for your fear, it was something you had struggled with since you were a child.
âitâs alright, my dear,â pierrot speaks to you softly and you look at him with a silent nod in gratitude before a gloved hand turns your face away from him, gently pulling you to your feet with another hand on your arm.
âlooks like weâll have to distract you from the thunder, huh?â harlequinâs words are sultry, and itâs clearly intentional based on the look on his face.
âharlequin! be serious.â pierrot chides, but his hands move to hold your waist, making you question if he was with or against harlequin.
harlequinâs grin stays wide as he holds you by the shoulders, slowly steering you towards your bed. âi am being serious,â he responds to pierrot, who is definitely on his side, you conclude, as he moves to close your sliding door and the curtains, significantly darkening the room.
âwhat are you twoââ before you can finish, harlequin pulls you flush to his chest just as another instant flash brightens the room for a quick second, and his hands are already pressed to your ears. not hard enough to hurt you, but firmly enough that while you feel the thunder reverberate through your chest moments later, he almost completely blocks out the sound and you relax in his hold, sighing in relief.
he pulls you back from him for a moment, searching your face for any signs of discomfort. when he doesn't find any, his lips curl back into a smile. âthat's my good pet," harlequin praises, brushing a stray strand away from your face. "you handled that incredibly well, didn't you?â you're flustered from his words and still a little embarrassed that one of your biggest fears has been accidentally revealed, so you lean your head against his chest again, opting to examine your floor rather than meet his gaze.
âiâm sorryâŚâ you whisper to both boys in the room, and harlequin stills against you. âiâm such a coward. itâs so embarrassing to be scared of just some noise. you guys donât have to do all this, iâll be okay.â
you get a little worried when you donât hear a response from either one of them, and when you finally peek your head up, harlequin and pierrot are looking at each other. then, pierrot turns to you, and harlequinâs grinning down at you. ânothing to be embarrassed about, sweet thing,â he continues to guide you to your bed, ushering you to climb in the middle as pierrot hesitantly waits on the opposite side of your bed, waiting for your approval to sit next to you. you nodâ because harlequinâs already at your other side without even askingâ and it wasnât like you minded them on your bed, anyway. pierrot moves close you, beginning to comb through your hair and play with it a little as harlequin continues, âdonât tell him we told you thisââ he gets closer, his voice dropping to almost a whisper as if someone was eavesdropping on your mundane apartment. âbut jesterâs a little scared of fire.â he laughs at the look of surprise on your face. âhah! didnât expect that, did you? he doesnât like anyone to know, but i promise youâ whenever i breathe fire during a performance, heâs nowhere to be found.â
pierrot cuts in, âwhat heâs trying to say is donât be embarrassedââ
âi did say that at the beginningââ harlequin glares at him from over your head but pierrot matches the look with just as much aggression.
ââand what i want to say is not to be ashamed. let us help you, my dear. thereâs no reason for you to handle this on your own, or for you to hide away from us,â pierrot guides you to look at him, hands caressing the sides of your face. you donât even notice until after you slightly feel it in your chest that he momentarily covered your ears, muffling another rumble of thunder from outside.
âthank you⌠both,â you turn to meet both of their eyes individually as you speak. âi really do appreciate it, you guys have helped. a lot.â
âanytime, my dear," harlequin responds, "we even ended up in your bed faster than i expected, and i donât usually take things slow.â he laughs, and you see pierrotâs hand clench from the corner of your eye, but he doesn't move, and you silently thank him for trying to hold himself back. they could break all the pottery you wanted in your house, but the one thing you wouldnât be able to handle breaking was your bed.
âspeaking of whichâŚâ you try to move on, âwhat are we all doing on my bed?â
pierrot turns red and you give him a concerned look. what was he imagining now? âhm~ that depends on you, dear thing.â harlequinâs voice from behind you sends chills through your spine as he drags a finger down your thigh that makes your stomach flutter. âlooks like dirty pierrot over there already has some ideas, how disgusting,â he mocks. âbut if youâd like to sleep, weâll sleep with you. if you want more? oh, weâll give you everything.â
you can hardly swallow as his words repeat in your mind over and over, and the way he's touching you isn't helping. but pierrotâs lost in his own mind, so youâre the only one left to defend yourself. âi um⌠while that sounds⌠iâll⌠think about it⌠in the meantimeâ i was actually thinking something else.â you stutter hard, but you try to take a deep breath in as you look back at harlequin.
he has a curious look in his eyes that reminds you of a cat, and you can barely hold back the urge to reach your hand up to his head to pet it. âand what would that be, sweet thing?â he asks with a tilt of his head.
pierrot seems to have been drawn back in by your response and waits eagerly for you to continue. âwellâ itâs nothing big. but if jesterâs afraid of fire⌠you guys must have something like that you're scared of too, right? like tight spaces, maybe?â
harlequinâs grin widens and his eyes light up as if heâs just found a new toy to play with. âoh, youâre a naughty little thing. i love it. letâs start with pierrotââ
âdo not speak for me,â pierrot immediately cuts him off, âah, this will be enjoyable. my dear, i have known harlequin since he was just a kid and he has never gotten overââÂ
enjoyable the night would be. far better than whatever you had originally planned for the day, but did that really surprise you anymore? the two of them brought joy and stories of tragedy wherever they went, expected or not.
The grip is confident, almost possessive, with fingers clasped tightly together as if they have no intention of letting go. There is energy and impulsiveness in this gesture, as if to say, âI'm holding you, so you're with me.â
Jester
This is not a rough grasp, but a playful intertwiningâa light, almost dance-like touch. The fingers are bent gently, as if the gesture is accompanied by a binary smile or bow.
Doctor
The grip is calm and supportive, not squeezing, but holding. The fingers gently wrap around yours, as if checking your pulse or simply letting you feel his beloved patient nearby.
Ticket Taker
Here, the gesture is more formal and gentle. The fingers are not intertwined, but touch each other lightly. It resembles a gallant touch or a polite gesture of accompaniment.
Pierrot
The grip is firm and emotional. You can see the tension in his fingers. The gesture speaks of passion and strong attachment, trying to stay with you longer like this, alone with your touch, as if you might disappear.
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