[floatinggoldfish]

‧₊ ♪˚⊹ she/her. brunette. books. wanderlust. the weeknd. sporadic.

── .✦ rules | masterlist | wip | ao3 ✦. ──

⋆˚࿔ I dabble in a little bit of everything

⋆˚࿔ Welcome to request!

⋆˚࿔ Currently watching: Hemlock Grove

⋆˚࿔ Currently reading: Pride and Prejudice

Not suitable for minors, may touch on taboo subjects

[floatinggoldfish]

Work In Progress

Pride, Prejudice, and Presumptions (Roman Godfrey x reader) ⤷ Letha has a new obsession: Peter Rumancek, the new kid everyone suspects is a werewolf. As her best friend, you’re determined to prevent her from having her heart broken. That unfortunately means crossing paths with Roman Godfrey—arrogant, infuriating, and quite possibly the most insufferable person you’ve ever met. After a disastrous first impression, it seems that everything Roman does, he does it to spite you. As Letha and Peter grow closer, so does the tension between you and Roman. Convinced that you have each other figured you, neither of you stops to wonder if you might be wrong. ⤷ Pride and Prejudice inspired

Teeth (Roman Godfrey x reader) ⤷ Dating Roman Godfrey is supposed to be a dream come true. After all, he’s the boy every girl in Hemlock Grove wishes they could be with. But in reality, it’s far from a fairytale. As Roman grows increasingly distant, getting even the slightest bit of affection from him feels like pulling teeth. ⤷ Teeth, 5SOS inspired

Commitment Issues (James Kelly x reader) ⤷ After spending years together, all you want is something more permanent with James Kelly. A ring. But every time the conversation comes up, there’s always a reason to push back, to wait a little longer. At first, it made sense, then the years began passing by. Now, you’re left wondering if James is waiting for the right time—or if he’s hoping you’ll stop asking altogether.

Same Old Mistakes (Sam Monroe x reader) ⤷ Loving Sam Monroe means loving the good and the bad. You stood by his side during his addiction, his attempts at sobriety, and every relapse in between. Each time he apologizes and promises that this time will be different, you find yourself believing him. After watching him fall back into the vicious cycle, you’re unsure if love is enough to save him—or the relationship. Tonight, you’re staying home after getting into another fight while Sam heads off to a party. You’re left wondering whether it’s time to finally walk away. But when a night of alcohol and drugs leaves him in a dangerous condition, you’re forced to spend another evening playing caretaker to a person who’s slowly breaking your heart.

One Of His Girls (Roman Godfrey x reader) ⤷ Roman Godfrey has a reputation that everyone in Hemlock Grove knows of—he’s been with nearly every girl in town, and there’s always another waiting to please him. As the new face in town, you’re immediately warned about him, and you swear to yourself that you won’t be another name on his list.

[floatinggoldfish]

Second Chance, Chapter 2

Pairing: Bob Gray x f!reader

Word count: 3k

Warnings: None, just a bunch of fluff and an attempt at a slow burn

Notes: I'm finally back from my months long hiatus, hurrah! It's been marinating in my docs for a while as I worked on it on and off (and getting distracted by other fic ideas 😞), but I'm really happy that it's finally finished.

Chapter 1

You are the perfect embodiment of wanderlust—always yearning to travel and see what the world has to offer, which is what leads you to join the circus. During your time there, you befriend Bob Gray, but you were too shy to confess your feelings and miss your chance. Life moves on, and the two of you go your separate paths… until they cross again, giving you a second chance.

He quietly whispers your name, but it’s too late. By the time your name leaves his lips, you have already disappeared into the sea of people. The last thing he sees is that damn ribbon in your hair.

As the days pass, you stubbornly haunt the corners of his mind; he can’t seem to forget the look of disappointment on your face when he said he didn’t recognize who you were. More than once, Ingrid catches him staring off into space with a blank look on his face. “Papa?” Her soft, innocent voice pulls him out of his thoughts. He blinks and turns towards her. “You’ve been doing that a lot.” “Doin’ what?” “Thinking.” A small smile tugs at the corner of his lips. “I think all the time.” “But not like this.” For a moment, he considers telling her. Instead, he ruffles her hair and returns back to fixing Pennywise’s wig. “I’m fine, kid.” Ingrid narrows her eyes at him, unconvinced. He isn’t sure he believes it himself.

You, unlike Bob, weren’t haunted by the forgetfulness. Though you kept replaying the look of uncertainty on his face more times than you would like to admit. Perhaps this was the closure you had spent years searching for. Your time at the circus was over, your feelings for him should have ended there as well. So you force yourself to push the interaction to the back of your mind, determined to not let yourself dwell on what could have been. Instead, you threw yourself into your work as a seamstress, dedicating all of your time to your craft. When you weren’t working on customers clothes, you spent your evenings designing and sewing your own dress.

It was a warm afternoon, the perfect weather for an outing. The sun felt warm on the skin with a slight breeze every now and then. The shop owner had also acknowledged the nice weather and decided to take advantage of it by excusing herself from the shop for a step out for a short while. Whilst she was out, she entrusted the shop’s business to you, knowing you now have enough experience to run it on your own. Since the shop was empty at the moment, you spent your time organizing your desk and the shelves along the walls. Your hair was loosely pulled back, a few strands slipping freely around your face as you moved around the shop. Although you found enjoyment in speaking and interacting with customers, you couldn’t help but also appreciate the silence of the shop with just the scratchy record player in the background. The calming trance was broken when the small brass bell at the front door rang. A small girl, no older than six, stepped inside with a neatly folded piece of fabric clutched in her arms and a small pouch in her hand. Her wide eyes dart around the shop with a sense of newfound curiosity as her short legs carry her over to your desk.

Because of her young age, you felt a sense of protectiveness over her. You brought a nearby chair up to your worktable so you could watch over her as you worked. As she hands you the folded garment from her hands, you caught a glimpse of the familiar orange trims. Ah, she must be his daughter, Ingrid, you thought to yourself as you sat down at your table. “Papa says his costume has holes.” Ingrid chirped up.

Before you begin checking the garment for tears, you remembered you had a piece of taffy in your bag and asked the young girl if she wanted it. She immediately perks up and nods eagerly, her eyes wide with delight as if you just asked if she wanted a tiara. You dug through your handbag, looking for the piece of taffy for her, and handed it to her. Ingrid thanked you profusely before shoving the candy into her mouth. Ingrid was like a ray of sunshine—full of happiness and innocence.

As you were working on the garment, Ingrid would swing her legs back and forth beneath the stool, asking more questions than you thought a child could possibly have. “Why do you need pins?” “Why is one pair of scissors only for fabric?” “How did you make the stitches so straight?” By the time you answered one of her questions, she had another one waiting.

The overall process had taken a little over an hour. Once that was over, Ingrid hopped off the chair she was sitting on and dug into the depths of the little coin purse she had, pulling out a handful of coins that just barely covered the payment. “Papa said this should be enough,” she beamed after carefully counting them. You accept the coins and in return, hand her back the change, but you notice that she does not have anyone with her and decide to walk her to the sidewalk.

Just as you were handing Ingrid the folded costume, you spot a familiar face walking down the sidewalk—it’s Bob. He had a look of confusion on his face before the realization hit; you’re the seamstress and you just happened to be helping his daughter. Ingrid’s face lit up once she saw her father and immediately began rambling, “Papa, this nice lady gave me candy and let me watch her! She also answered all of my questions, she’s so smart!” The edges of your lips quirk up into a bashful smile as you push a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “It was nothing. Ingrid was curious and polite throughout the whole thing.” He lets out a sheepish chuckle and rubs the back of his neck; the air in between you two was tense and awkward before he blurts out “Are you free tonight?” His question catches you off guard and he sees it on your face before backtracking. “I apologize for not remembering you that night, but I do now and hope to catch up,” he says then quickly adds, “After I put Ingrid to bed by seven.” Your face softens as you agree, “That would be nice.”

The way his eyes brightened as you agreed doesn’t go unnoticed by you. “One moment.” You say before Ingrid and Bob walk away. You hurry back into the shop and return a few moments later with a folded piece of paper in between your fingers. “It’s my address,” you explain. He takes the note with both hands, looking at it with the same delight that Ingrid had an hour ago. He stumbles over his words as he lifts the note up in between his two fingers, “Thank you for, um, agreeing, I- uh I’ll see you at eight.” The awkward silence ensues until Ingrid breaks it. “Papa, can we stop by the toy shop?” she says while lightly tugging at her father’s free hand. A strained chuckle left his throat as he remembers where he’s at, glancing down back at Ingrid. “Sure, peach, we can do that,” his gaze flickers back up to meet yours. “See you at around eight tonight?” “That sounds pleasant.” You replied, slightly cringing at yourself as your voice shifted an octave higher.

The sun had already set, the only source of light came from a nearby streetlamp and the butt of his cigarette, for he only smoked one stick to calm his nerves before he went inside the building to knock on your door. It was ridiculous, really. He was just catching up with an old friend. There was no reason for his stomach to feel like it was tied in knots. Right? As he drops the cigarette butt down to stomp it out, you walk out of the lobby, throwing him off guard. His eyes widened, clearly caught off guard, and fumbled over his words, “I uh- I was just aboutta knock.” A pause. “Eventually.” A laugh slips past your lips which causes heat to creep up the back of his neck. “C’mon.” You say as you make your way to the sidewalk.

The main street was bright and lively with people—couples strolling arm in arm and groups of friends lingering by storefronts—as they walked down the road, chuckling awkwardly as they tried finding their routine again. After spending years apart, it was difficult to fall back into their familiar banter.

As they walked past a diner, he remembered how much Ingrid loves the milkshakes there and asked gruffly, “Ingrid swears they have the best milkshakes here.” “Is that so?” You say, glancing towards the window. “Mhm. Been hearin’ about it every time she gets ‘em.” A grin spreads across your face, “Well, a milkshake on a Friday evening sounds awfully tempting.” “Thought you might say that.” “Guess we’ll have to see if they live up to the hype.”

Like the gentleman he is, he holds the door open for you before sweeping into an exaggerated bow, “Ladies first.” You let out a chuckle and shake your head. “Still a clown, I see.” “Pays the bills.”

The diner was vibrant and packed with people spending the evening catching up and joking around. After he takes a quick glance around the crowded room, he spots two vacant stools by the counter. “Here.” He says and takes the lead while you follow behind him. Once the both of you settled into your seats, you pick up a menu and skim over the milkshake section. You purse your lips as you look over the different milkshakes the diner has to offer, debating which to order.

“I think I’ll take a chocolate malt.” You say to the waitress as she comes around.

“Make it two.” Bob adds.

The waitress writes the orders down and gives a small nod before disappearing behind the counter.

“Chocolate? I thought you hated chocolate?” you asked.

He brought his gaze back to yours before shrugging. “Never said I hated it.”

A small frown made its way to your face. “You used to give it to me every chocolate thing you got.”

“Because you liked ‘em.”

The conversation gradually shifts away from sweets and to more recent events. He asks you how you’ve been, what brought you to Derry, how life has treated you since the circus, and a handful of other surface leveled questions. You explain that you had left the circus only a few months ago. After spending years moving from place to place, you had grown tired of always being on the move. Derry had always stuck out to you. It was small, quiet, and cozy—exactly the kind of place you imagined yourself settling down in one day. When the time finally came to leave the circus, you packed up all your belongings and moved to Derry.

You then ask him similar questions—how he’s been and if there’s anything new with him. A smile tugs at the corner of his lips as he replies. “Things have been aight, just workin’ at the fairgrounds. Ingrid’s been askin’ me to do a lil father and daughter act.” A soft laugh escapes your mouth as you imagine him with a miniature version of himself on stage. He catches the laugh and raises an eyebrow at you. “What’s so funny about that?” “Nothing…” You try—and fail—to suppress your smile. “Just imagining a mini you running around the stage.” “Lord help the audience if there’s two of me.” He grumbled with a playful undertone.

The tension slowly fades as it is replaced by a familiar comfort that you just realized you missed. As the two of you drank, you find yourself falling back into the playful banter that had once come so naturally. Jokes and memories spill out seamlessly as if no time had passed and he realizes that he stopped feeling awkward twenty minutes ago.

As you take a sip of your milkshake, he can’t help but take a sneaky glance to roam over your face; noticing the small things that made you you. The way your brow furrowed when faced with too many choices, how you leaned in to tell a story, and the red ribbon in your hair. But not everything stayed the same. Your laugh came softer now, no longer the loud snort that turned heads across the room like it used to. Even the way you carried yourself changed. No longer the carefree teenager, in her place was a woman who sat with straighter shoulders and crossed legs.

Something in him shifts, though he can’t quite place what it is. Maybe it was the years apart. Maybe it was seeing you again after all this time but whatever it was, he finds himself paying closer attention than he should. He catches himself watching the way your face lights up as you speak and quickly clears his throat. “How’s Derry treatin’ ya?” You take a second, reflecting over the months you’ve spent living in Derry before replying. “It’s nice, the community here is close knit. Working at the tailor helps me get familiar with everyone.” A smile tugs at his lips, he’s glad you’ve managed to settle in so quickly. “You still collecting those ribbons?” Now it’s your turn to smile. He remembered. “Yeah, I’ve got a little box of them. Every color you can think of.”

Minutes began turning into hours as they talked, sipping their milkshakes—or in his case, downed it within minutes.

It wasn’t long until you finished your drink and found yourself walking back towards the front doors again. As the cold, evening air kissed your skin, you let out an involuntary shiver and wrapped your arms around yourself. It didn’t go unnoticed by him so he shrugs his jacket off and without asking first, drapes it over your shoulders. He slows his pace to match yours without a word. The two of you walk side by side, falling into an easy pace whilst walking down the now quiet road. Not wanting the night to end just yet, the both of you circle around main street once again. This time, taking the time to look at shops you would usually just walk past. Each breeze that blew by, you would clutch on to his jacket just a little tighter.

By the time you both had reached the end of the road, you were met with a narrow trail down to the riverbed. The moonlight reflects across the calm stream of water, silver rippling softly across the surface.

“I come here sometimes to just sit by the river and read whenever I’m free.” You say as you carefully make your way down the grassy hill. A quiet “huh” slips from his mouth as he follows behind. “What kinda books do ya read?” His question breaks the quiet trance. “Mostly romance, but a few gothic novels here and there.” You reply. “Romance?” He lets out a small huff of amusement. “Didn’t take you as a sappy kind of gal.” You bump his arm lightly with your elbow. “You just didn’t notice.” “Nah,” he says, a grin forming, “I think I’d remember, you clung on to me like a koala bear.” You playfully roll your eyes at his comment. “You say that like you minded.” He hesitates for half a second too long as he glances away, sounds of the river running fills the void. It’s something that doesn’t go unnoticed by you but you act like you didn’t.

A breeze passes through them, stirring the ribbon in your hair. “You’re still wearing that ribbon.” Your eyes narrow slightly at the avoidance and sudden shift in topic, but you let it slide. “It’s my go-to, it keeps the circus life with me.”

Another breeze blows past them before he shifts his weight from one leg to the other. “It’s gettin’ cold. We should head back.” A small shiver runs through your body and you don’t argue.

As they make their way back to your apartment, they begin reminiscing over the years they shared at the circus. One memory bleeds into another.

“Remember when one of the geese escaped and chased the ring master around?” You ask, glancing up at him.

“You were the one who left the gate open.”

You tilt your head slightly, feigning innocence. “Allegedly.”

By the time your apartment building comes into view, your cheeks were sore from laughing so much. The conversation dwindles as they slow to a stop in front of the apartment doors. His hand comes up to awkwardly scratch the back of his neck as he turns towards you.

“Thank you for comin’ out tonight,” that sloppy grin made its way back onto his face once again. “I really enjoyed it.” You return the smile and tell him likewise. That causes something in his chest tightens unexpectedly, familiar in a way he can’t quite place yet.

“Goodnight.”

You pause at the entrance, your hand still on the door handle, and glance over your shoulder towards him.

“Goodnight, Bob.”

The door swings shut behind you, leaving him alone on the quiet street. His gaze lingers on the door, on the spot you occupied only moments ago before you disappeared up the stairs. The feeling returns, warm and strangely familiar. It nags at him. He knows he has felt it before but he couldn’t place when.

With one last glance towards the apartment building, he finally turns and starts the walk back home. The feeling follows him yet it stays frustratingly out of reach. He knows he felt this feeling before but he can’t remember when.

Upstairs, you reached into your bag to fish out your keys. The oversized sleeve of his jacket kept brushing against your fingers and you pause. His jacket. A blush creeps up to your cheeks along with a small smile as you mentally plan your next encounter with him to return it. For a moment, the old crush from the circus resurfaces, warm and mushy.

You quickly push it aside because things are different now. They weren't the same carefree people spent their days running through the circus grounds. The young man you had spent your time teasing in between performances had matured into a father, a man with far more responsibilities.

[floatinggoldfish]

Currently obsessing over Pride and Prejudice 2005 and I’m halfway through Hemlock Grove. What if I wrote a P&P AU, would anyone be interested?

[floatinggoldfish]

Valentine's Day Special

Pairing: Bob Gray x f!reader

Word Count: 408

Warnings: None!

Notes: Happy Valentine's Day! Here's a short one with Bob Gray!

Sunlight slipped through the small window above the cot, causing you to stir. You rubbed your eyes and yawned, squinting against the brightness, and rolled to your side. His side of the bed was empty. You pushed yourself up onto your forearms and was just about to call out his name when you heard the door creak open.

He tried his best to stay quiet, he truly did, but the way the hinges whined and his boots thudded against the wooden floor betrayed him. When he stepped into view, he had a sheepish smile on his face. In his hands was a small, slightly crooked bouquet and a letter.

"Sorry, did I wake you, my dear?" He asked in a gruff tone. When you let out a small giggle and shook your head no, he took a step closer and handed you the gifts, "Happy Valentine's Day, darlin'."

"There were some pretty wild flowers growin' nearby and I thought you'd like em." He shyly mumbled. You didn't mind and was even in awe that he plucked the flowers and turned them into a bouquet for you. You brought the bouquet up to your nose to smell the flowers before replying, "Thank you, my love."

He immediately perked up like a golden retriever and urged you to open the letter. You noticed his rugged handwriting, something that was uniquely his, at the front of the letter that said "For my beloved." When you placed the bouquet down on the nightstand and opened the letter, it read;

My dearest love, I ain't one to get all sappy in writing but ever since you came into my life, you been nothing but a blessing to me and little Ingrid. When we're separated, I think on you near every minute. More than a man probably ought to. I know the flowers ain't much. I picked the best I could find. Next year I ought to get you a ring. Happy valentines day, dear. Ever yours, Bob Gray

The letter warmed your heart and caused the edges of your lips to quirk up into a smile. You pulled back the blanket and got up to wrap your arms around his neck. "It's beautiful, Bob." You murmured into his ear before pulling back and pressing a gentle kiss against his lips. He smiled, proud of himself for making you happy, then moved his lips to kiss you back with the same amount of affection.

[floatinggoldfish]

Second Chance, Chapter 1

Pairing: Bob Gray x f!reader

Word count: 1.5K

Warnings: Fluff, mentions of alcohol, smoking, loss of a loved one to illness.

Notes: Attempting a slow burn, might turn this into a series if it's wanted. Sorry for taking so long, life was kicking me in the bum with school work and the fattest writers block known to mankind. But I'm on ao3 now under FloatingGoldfish4!

Chapter 2

You are the perfect embodiment of wanderlust—always yearning to travel and see what the world has to offer, which is what leads you to join the circus. During your time there, you befriend Bob Gray, but you were too shy to confess your feelings and miss your chance. Life moves on, and the two of you go your separate paths… until they cross again, giving you a second chance.

From the moment you joined the circus, one particular dancing clown had caught your attention—Bob Gray. His tall, slender frame and that piercing gaze made him ethereal, even when he was in his clown costume. The thing that drew you in even more was his soft and kind personality, his looks were just a bonus. The fascination wasn't one sided. The bubbly, easy-to-talk-to nature made it easy for Bob to talk to you about any topic under the sun, and soon a friendship quickly blossomed.

The announcer's thundering voice snapped you out of your thoughts. You wiped the sweat from your palms onto your crimson leotard and checked the red ribbon in your hair one last time before pushing past the velvet curtains with a cheerful smile on your lips. This would be the fourth time you performed on your own, after spending months training behind the scenes.

When your matching crimson ballet flats touched the ground, all you could hear was the audience applauding and hollering. Your chest rose and fell as you fought to steady your breath, arms raised above your head before swooping down to take a bow. After staying in that folded position for a moment, you stood back up and smiled one last time before slipping offstage.

Once you were hidden away from the audience's gaze, you let your shoulders sag as you bent over to catch your breath. "Here," a low, familiar voice murmured next to you. "Ya look like you could use some water." When you looked up, Bob was standing there, holding out a cup of water for you. The edge of your lips lifted as you took the cup from him with both hands and thanked him. And so it went after each performance—water offered then an easy conversation.

Each time the cycle repeated, the deeper you felt yourself falling for him, despite the eight year age gap between the two of you. Tonight, you built up the courage to ask him out, along with the others, to a local pub. "A few of us were thinking about heading to the local pub, want to join?" You asked. Bob glanced up at you before shaking his head, dropping a bomb you had not seen coming, "I've got a date later." You felt your heart drop but refused to let it show on your face, "Oh," you said, forcing a small smile. "That's fine."

From then on, that's how it was. He would mention her every now and then in your conversations which acted as a harsh reminder of the words unsaid.

Life, indifferent as always, kept going. A year later, he wanted to settle down and had proposed; the wedding announcements soon came after. It was not long after when baby Ingrid came along—everything, on the outside, seemed perfect for Bob. After a few years, the unfortunate news of his wife falling ill had emerged. It was clear that it was taking a toll on him; the bags under his eyes were getting more prominent and he no longer seemed as cheerful as he was before. Ingrid had just turned 2 when the worst happened. It was known that his wife had fallen ill and was showing no signs of getting better but her passing still shocked everyone. Her death hit him hard, causing him to turn to alcohol and cigarettes to cope. At first, he only drank and smoked before heading to bed but soon it began to get worse. He had been abusing it so much that it started to effect his performance and people were starting to notice.

It has now been a month or two since Bob had packed up his trailer and left the circus. You were sitting at your makeshift vanity, remember feeling shocked and confused when you woke up one day to see his trailer missing. As you grabbed the red ribbon to tie your hair, the moment he gave you that ribbon replayed. It was during peak summer, you were in his trailer, complaining about how you didn't have anything to keep your hair up and how it kept getting in your way. In response, he offered you a piece of extra fabric he had laying around; the same fabric he used when he was adding details to his clown costume. After cutting the fabric into a strip of ribbon that you could use, you considered it your lucky ribbon and wore it everyday.

At the age of 24, you decide that you want to leave the circus to settle down in hopes of starting a new chapter in your life. You remembered hearing a town named Derry during your time in the circus and for some reason, that town had stuck with you ever since. Because of that, you had found an available apartment to move into and even found employment as a seamstress at the local tailor shop. Life was looking up and soon, your circus days began to fade into a mere memory.

Your new life began settling into a peaceful routine as three years passed. You had just closed the shop for the day and was about to head back home when a flyer caught your attention. It was about a local fair that was happening now. Memories of your circus days began to replay in your head and you couldn't help but want to feel the nostalgic haze again. With your hair tied up in that same ribbon and your coat in your arms due to the warm spring weather, you walk down to the fair grounds where you can hear faint shouting and laughter coming from the kids. Soon after hearing the giggles, the smell of peanuts and popcorn hit you next and a wave of nostalgia washed over you. It felt like you were back in the circus all over again.

You paid for a ticket and even bought yourself a small sack of popcorn to enjoy as you walked around. Oh how you missed the way the bag would crinkle, the announcers yelling to grab your attention, and most of all, the sound of pure happiness. As you walked around the grassy area, you overhear an announcement that the clown show would soon be starting. You walk towards the sound but then your brows furrow in confusion. Were you hallucinating or was that trailer beginning to look more and more familiar?

It wasn't until the curtains were drawn when you finally remembered. It was Bob's trailer. You stood in the middle of the crowd, watching as the face you once loved appeared and began clowning around. Although his clown persona hasn't changed, his act did. The kids were too naive to understand but you did—you saw how he portrayed his happiness before the grief hit.

His show ended with a bunch of red balloons falling into the crowd before he stepped off stage yet you felt something urging you to follow him. And so you did. No one noticed as you trailed behind him. Once you saw him again, he was leaning against the fence with a cigarette in one hand and a flask of alcohol in the other. You took a deep breath in, holding it in for a second before exhaling to calm your nerves. His ears picked up something walking on the grass next to him so he turned his head to see who it was. His voice was gruff as he dropped the cigarette and stomped it out, "Ingrid, I told ya not to come out this late- oh you're not Ingrid." The edge of your lips quirked up into an awkward smile as you greeted him, "How do you do, sir? I watched your act and thought it was very deep and thoughtful." A scoff left his mouth and grumbled a quiet thanks in return.

The silence between the two of you was loud, you shifted back and forth on your feet before speaking again, "We've missed you." He looked at you strangely as if you were speaking nonsense to him. "We?" He repeated. You had a sense that he didn't recognize you but you had to make sure. "Don't you recognize me?" His eyes analysed your face then shook his head. "I do not, ma'am." was his response. Your cheeks flushed in embarrassment, afraid that you made yourself look like a fool in front of him. To avoid embarrassing yourself further, you chuckled and brushed the previous conversation off. "I apologize, I must've mixed you up with someone else." You then turned on your heels to walk back to the main event. As you did so, Bob took a swing of his flask before turning back to look at your retreating figure. His eyes widened as he recognized the red ribbon you wore in your hair, finally remembering who you are.

When he opened his mouth to call you back, it was too late; you had already disappeared into the crowd, leaving him with unanswered questions.

Let me know if this is something worth turning into a series! Thank you!

[floatinggoldfish]

Nightly Rituals

Pairing: Bob Gray x f!reader

Word count: 1.8k

Notes/Warnings: First time writing smut, slight edging, fingering, unprotected piv

You're helping your lover undress and unwind after his performance.

You were sitting perched up on his lap, turned towards him while humming a melodic tune as you took his wig off and placed it on its stand. This was your private little ritual you and he did every night after each performance. When you turned back to face him, you ran your fingers through the thinning hair at his crown, a look of content on your face. Bob sat obediently, wearing a tank top and the bottom of his clown costume, like a golden retriever as he let you take his clown persona off.

Tonight felt much more calmer and intimate than every other night but you couldn't quite place your finger on it so you just shrugged it off. You dipped the towel into the bowl of warm water to gently wipe off the white and red paint off his face. His eyes fluttered shut as the towel made contact with his skin; a soft exhale leaving his mouth. You tenderly tilted his chin up to wipe the paint off from his jaw, too busy to notice that he had opened his eyes and was staring up at you as if you were his whole world, obviously alongside Ingrid.

"You're so kind to me," he gently murmured—"what did I do to deserve ya?" The edge of your lips twitched upward into a bashful smile at his words. "You're going to distract me." A wry grin was plastered on his face at your response, his hands snaking up to wrap around your waist to pull you closer to him. Each time you pulled away from his face to rinse the cloth, he couldn't help but to admire your side profile and how your brows furrowed together when you had set your mind on something.

As you turned your focus on wiping the red paint off his lips, his hands began drifting lower and lower until they stopped right on your hips. His breath was now getting shorter and hotter against your hand and you noticed a subtle shift from pure adoration into something darker in his eyes. You tried your best to dismiss that gaze but he kept making it known by the way he was leaning into the palm of your hand.

"Baby..." he softly murmured into your cradling hand.

You knew what that tone meant and you slightly pulled back to properly look at him and you knew that you could never deny him when he got needy. Your eyes glanced down to his lips for a moment before back up to his blue orbs. The air—once calm and warm—now felt charged. Without hesitation, he leaned in to capture your lips with a soft kiss; but not even a moment later it became more heated. With what started off as a gentle peck had now turned into his teeth nipping your bottom lip. His tongue swiped over where he had bitten as if asking permission to slip in between your lips.

The towel that was once in your hand had dropped from your hand and on to the wooden floor. Now that your hands were free, they reached up to cup his face as your tongues clashed with each other. The sudden thought of Ingrid made you pull back and break the kiss. "Ingrid," you managed to gasp out in between pants. "What about Ingrid?" His mouth curved with a hint of mischief, a streak of crimson red smeared across his lips in the aftermath of their makeout session. You could feel his hot breath against your neck as he leaned in to pepper kisses down to your collarbone. "She's having a sleepover at her friend's." He murmured, his lips skimming the side of your throat. As he continued his ministrations, his teeth slowly grazed your skin which caused you to suck in a sharp breath.

His hands never left your body, roaming your torso before moving down to your thighs and gripping them to yank you closer to him. His mouth immediately latched on back to yours while simultaneously lifting you by your thighs so your legs wrapped around his torso. The kiss between you and him never breaks, desperate to stay intertwined in some way all the while he gently lays you down on the small, makeshift bed in the back of the wooden trailer.

As he settles down between your legs, you could feel him press his hardening length against your covered entrance. A faint shade of pink dusted your cheeks in response. Unlike the tender kiss shared between the two of you earlier, his lips crashed down to yours for a frenzied kiss as he demanded entry to your mouth to which you happily obliged.

Simply just making out could not satisfy his hunger for you; he needed more and he needed it now. The sound of jingles from his suit echoed through the trailer while his hips were grinding fervently against yours. "I've had such a tiring day today," he mumbled against your lips. "Be a doll and help me unwind, hm?" Small, needy whines left your throat in response which caused him to smirk.

His hands pushed the edge of your nightgown above your head to yank it off and toss it aside; your hands mirror his, fumbling to unbutton his silver clown pants and letting it pool around his ankles. His left hand tilted your chin up to claim the fleeting warmth of your lips whilst his right slipped under the waistband of your panties.

He let out a grunt as his fingers skimmed against your folds, already feeling how soaked you are for him. "All it takes is a few kisses to get ya to melt, eh?" he teased, sending a jolt of pleasure to your core. Now you were desperate for him, hips writhing against his fingers as they tried to get more friction. "Yes, please..." you moaned. A tsk escaped past his lips before slowly easing two fingers into your heat as foreplay. The tips of his fingers curled against the spot that made you moan and arch your back off the bed whilst his other hand slipped down from your chin to grope your breast.

It only took a few strokes from his long digits to turn you into a moaning mess against his lips to which he would happily swallow.

He would tease you—stroke your sensitive bud with his thumb that lacked the right amount of pressure you wanted—before bringing you right on the brink of an orgasm just to stop his ministrations, causing you to groan.

After a few more tormenting rounds of teasing and edging you, he pulled his fingers out, now coated in your wetness. His gaze was locked on to you as he brought his digits up to his lips and sucked on them, as if taunting you, his tongue swirling around each finger to make sure he thoroughly cleaned them. The musky taste of you caused his cock to twitch against his stomach, beads of precum had already began to trickle down his length.

"I can't wait to bury myself into that tight cunt." he grumbled.

The bed groaned as he moved to toss your left leg over his shoulder, getting a good glimpse of your glistening slit. It was driving him crazy. His hand wrapped around his dick, stroking it a few times before nudging just the head into your entrance and then pulling out again. It was a maddening cycle and you made sure you were vocal about it by whining.

Halfway through one of your complaints, he thrusted into your tight heat, bottoming out in one go which caused your whines to quickly turn into choked moans as you clawed at the bedsheets. He also let out a moan as he felt your hot walls clench around his hard length at the unexpected intrusion. For a moment he stayed in that position to let you adjust to his size before starting off with slow, shallow thrusts.

It wouldn't take long before all self-restraints were tossed out the window and he was now fucking you deeply into the mattress. He couldn't get enough of how perfect you felt around him, it was almost as if your cunt was meant just for him. The air was filled with grunts, moans, and the sound of skin slapping against skin; the wooden trailer groaned as it swayed side to side from his thrusts.

As he was plunging into your hole, one of his hands came down to give your swollen bundle of nerves some attention—rubbing it with the pad of his thumb. The overwhelming amount of pleasure from the stimulation from your clit and from the way the head of his cock hit your cervix made your eyes roll back and see stars.

"Look at ya, such a good girl." He rasped in a low voice, watching his cock disappear into your drenched cunt. The way your walls involuntarily clenched around him at his praise doesn't go unnoticed by him, instead he deepens his thrusts. Your thoughts start to blur together as your orgasm neared. He, too, was also close from the way he was getting more vocal. His moans made the heat in your core to bloom even more. It took a few more rough rams before his balls tightened and he emptied out inside of you—spewing hot webs of release—as you moaned and arched your back off the bed.

His eyes softened with tender amazement as he looked down at you; you looked divine to him with your hair splayed across his pillow. He dropped his sweat sheened forehead down to yours as he tried catching his breath, letting your leg slip down from his shoulder. After staying in that position for a minute, he leaned his lips down to nip your earlobe before making their way down to the nape of your neck. "You okay, babe?" He whispered softly against your skin as he turned soft and pulled out of you. You nodded your head yes, the mix of both of your juices slowly leak out of your slit.

A tender smile tugged on his lips. He shifted off from above you to lay down next to you, wrapping his arms around his waist to pull you close to cuddle. Your body instinctively curled towards him to mold perfectly against his.

"Mmm, y'did so well." He breathed out, his lips pressing a gentle kiss against yours.

With one of his hands, he reached down the bed to pull the blanket over the both of you to cover your entangled limbs. Even after having a long, demanding day of performing, he still prioritized caring for you. Wrapped in between each other's arms, you both let the world fade away and slip into unconsciousness.

[floatinggoldfish]

I Saw You Dancing In A Crowded Room

Pairing: Sam Monroe x f!reader

Word count: 943 words

Notes/warnings: fluff, mentions of drugs

It has been at least eight months since you and Sam broke up. Eight months since he told you he wanted to end things so he could explore his options and not be tied down in Tahoe. You had been dating Sam before he began abusing drugs so you knew that it was just the drugs talking but it didn't numb the pain that staggered through your chest. Despite your pleas, Sam's decision didn't waiver and he left you heartbroken.

Unbeknownst to Sam, his father, George, had overrun his Tahoe plans with his own plans to rebuild his house with Sam by his side. That summer with George had forced Sam to quit his addiction and to better himself as a person. As the drug slowly lost its grip over Sam, he began regretting many decisions he made—especially breaking up with you.

Now, it was a Saturday night. Josh's parents were out of town for the weekend so he took advantage of their absence to throw a party. Because you were somewhat a friend of Alyssa's, you were automatically invited due to your connection. Once Sam had heard through Cory that you were attending Josh's party, he knew he had to go, to try to mend the crack he caused between you two.

Just like every other typical high school party, alcohol was on the counter, people were drunkenly making out, and a mob was dancing in the living room. As Sam leaned against the counter, a red plastic cup half way filled with some fruit punch in hand, he heard your melodic laugh then his eyes looked up to see you dancing with such carefreeness. The edge of Sam's lips slightly quirked up, he couldn't help but notice how happy you looked when you're not with him.

Almost like a sixth sense, you looked over your shoulder and your gaze locked on to his. When you caught sight of him, a look of surprise washed over your face before a single tear fell down from your eye. Sam had noticed this and placed his cup down at the counter as he strided over to where you were. Once he stepped in front of you, his hand reached out to gently grasp your wrist. Sam had this pleading look on his face as he opened his mouth to speak, "Can we talk?"

You didn't accept but you also didn't refuse which Sam took as a sign to continue on. "How about we head to somewhere more quiet," he offered, "it's a bit hard to have a proper conversation here." Still slightly stunned, you allow Sam to guide you out of the house and into the grassy backyard. You and Sam sat quietly on the patio steps, the faint thumping from the speakers filled the awkward void between you two.

"I want to start off with an apology," Sam's voice quivered just slightly as he began speaking, "for breaking your heart." "Was it worth it?" You asked with a tinge of bitterness, seeing Sam had brought back some resentment that was still stewing in the back of your mind, "was Tahoe not what you expected?" A small wince left Sam's lips as you asked your questions. "There was no trip," Sam replied, "I stayed with my father and got clean instead." There was something about Sam that seemed a bit different that you couldn't quite place your finger on but now it was clear. His iconic blue strand was now faded, took out his piercings, and stopped wearing black eyeliner.

After hearing he had gotten clean, part of you felt proud for overcoming a difficult addiction but another part of you felt bitter because you used to beg him to stop doing drugs but he never bothered with your words. "That's... nice." You had manage to mumble out. Sam let out a breathy chuckle at your words—"yeah, nice."—and just like that, the silence filled the space between the both of you once more.

Sam leaned back, his hands spread against the cold stone behind him yet so close to your hand. He glanced over, his gaze roaming over your side profile as if trying to burn it into his memory. Unlike him, you hadn't changed much; you still looked like the same girl he had left eight months ago. The way the gentle evening breeze combed through your hair had him entranced and he couldn't help but murmur another apology. "I truly regret ending things, baby..." his eyes searched yours as you looked over to face him, "is there any way we can start over?" Your face was blank but a hint of longing flickered in your eyes; how you yearn to be back in his arms but the scars were still fresh. "I don't know," you whispered, "it still hurts, Sam."

His face visibly softened at your quiet confession, oh how his fingers itch to intertwine with yours once again to reassure you. "I've made mistakes, done things poorly, but I've learned and grown." Sam turned to lie on his side to fully face you, "we can take things slowly and I'll be sure to treat you right this time, baby." He seemed so sincere and maybe he truly did mature since the last time you two had spoken.

You took a few minutes—which felt like an eternity to Sam—to mull the idea over. "Okay," you breathed out, looking up at him with those soft, kind eyes he fell in love with "promise me you won't hurt me like that again." "Promise." Sam murmured before leaning in to press a soft kiss against your lips as if to seal the promise.

[floatinggoldfish]

Masterlist

⋆˙⟡ Sam Monroe

I Saw You Dancing In A Crowded Room

⤷

⋆˙⟡ Bill Skarsgard

⤷

⋆˙⟡ Bob Gray

Pity or Fetish

⤷ After losing his wife, Bob Gray leaves the circus behind and takes a smaller job at the Derry Fair, performing as Pennywise each night. For him, every night is the same—until a woman becomes captivated by the man behind the face paint. Fresh out of a long-term relationship, you're dragged to the local fair by your friend. There, a man at least twice your age with striking blue eyes catches your attention. Going back stage to compliment his act couldn't hurt... right?

Nightly Rituals

⤷ You're helping your lover undress and unwind after his performance.

Second Chance

⤷ You are the perfect embodiment of wanderlust—always yearning to travel and see what the world has to offer, which is what leads you to join the circus. During your time there, you befriend Bob Gray, but you’re too shy to confess your feelings and miss your chance. Life moves on, and the two of you go your separate paths… until they cross again, giving you a second chance.

⤷ Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

Valentine's Day Special

⤷

[floatinggoldfish]

Fandoms & Characters

⋆˙⟡ Hayden Christensen ⤷ Hayden Christensen, Sam Moneroe, Stephen Glass, Anakin Skywalker, Darth Vader (with/without suit), James Kelly, AJ, Lorenzo Di Lamberti, Scott Barringer, Clayton Beresford, David Rice

⋆˙⟡ Welcome To Derry ⤷ Bob Gray, Pennywise

AUs

⋆˙⟡ Open to all!

Send a message if you’re unsure about any characters or AUs!

REQUEST: Open!

WILLING TO WRITE: Open to anything and any kinks!

WON'T WRITE: Minors, scat, piss,

[floatinggoldfish]

Pity or Fetish

Pairing: Bob Gray x f!reader

Word count: 975

Notes/warnings: fluff, age gap, first time posting, not proof read

After losing his wife, Bob Gray leaves the circus behind and takes a smaller job at the Derry Fair, performing as Pennywise each night. For him, every night is the same—until a woman becomes captivated by the man behind the face paint.

Fresh out of a long-term relationship, you're dragged to the local fair by your friend. There, a man at least twice your age with striking blue eyes catches your attention. Going back stage to compliment his act couldn't hurt... right?

Leaving the circus meant straying from a relatively stable income he had already established but the grief from losing his wife and his addiction was too much. Without the circus money he needed to care for his daughter, Bob joined the Derry Fair where he would continue to perform as Pennywise The Dancing Clown. Each performance was the same cycle: dress up, drink/smoke, perform, repeat. Tonight was no different. It was late, Bob was tired but he plastered a smile on his face for his last show.

It was a warm, summer evening; the sound of giggling children and circus songs filled the air. Your friend, Helen, had decided to drag you, 22 years old and recently just broken up with your high school boyfriend, out to the fair to lighten your spirits. Helen had bought you some cotton candy before dragging you towards the stage where Pennywise was scheduled to perform. Both of you guys were in the middle of the crowd when the curtains opened and you were immediately captivated by his ambiance.

After his show had ended, your intuition had told you to follow him and so you did. You told Helen that you wanted to compliment the man behind the white paint and she gave you a knowing grin, nudging you to go. As you made your way to his wooden trailer, you smoothed your skirt out and cleared your throat before knocking on the door. It was silent for a few seconds before he opened the door; his makeup was smeared and his wig was off. He glared down at you, flask by his side, clearly under the influence, when he grumbled out, "How can I help ya?" You looked up at him with your doe eyes, "I uhm just wanted to compliment your act." Bob had a skeptical look on his face as he pursed his lips, "Thanks." The way his dark celurean blue eyes examined your figure had your heart racing. You chewed your bottom lip as the silence filled the void between you two.

Once the silence was too much for you to handle, you gave him a small smile and turned to leave. As he watched your figure disappear into the fair crowd, he brought the flask up to his lips and let the alcohol burn his throat. He figured you were just taunting and poking fun at him for his choice of employment and pushed the interaction to the back of his mind.

You, on the other hand, couldn't get him out of your mind. As Helen spoke to you about how much fun she had that night, your mind was wandering, yearning to know who he was under the clown persona. Helen had noticed how preoccupied you were to listen to her and began teasing you. "I can't believe you like an old man," Helen giggled, "he's old enough to be your father!" Your cheeks flushed in embarrassment but the single father fact didn't deter you from pursuing him.

The next evening, you decided to go back to the fair, needing to see him again. You were dressed in a red dress that had a white collar and white trim at the skirt. Your hair was left down, a white lacy headband decorated your head, and a pair of shiny red heels to tie the look together. While walking inside the fair, you felt a giddy smile on your lips as the stage came into your view again. This time, you stood in the third row, eager to get a better look at the man who has been on your mind ever since last night.

Just like every other night, the man in the silver suit and orange hair came out and performed his story. The story of losing his wife. You knew what he was acting out yet that only seemed to add more to your obsession with him, watching his every move in awe. Similarly to last night, you stayed behind as the crowd dispersed to talk to the man. Your heels clacked as you walked up the wooden steps until you came to a stop; you brought your knuckles up to rasp against the faded red door, anxious to see those blue eyes you seem to get lost in.

The door was yanked open, revealing himself to you. His gaze fell down to you, the stench of alcohol filled your nose again as he opened his mouth, "You again?" You couldn't help but feel gleeful on the inside as he recognized you. "Your act truly had me entranced, sir" you replied with that smile still on your face. He took a swig from that same flask before smirking, "Do you pity me or is this some fetish?"

You were stunned, you could your neck and the tips of your ear heat up, your cheeks were now tinted with a pink color. "Cat got ya tongue?" he teased, noticing your flushed look. Your mouth opened and closed, stuttering as you tried to come up with an explanation; but before you could reply, he grabbed your wrist and pulled you in. His hand came up to your chin, tilting your head up to him, "what a pretty gal you are." You felt breath hitched, your body involuntarily leaning closer to his; he too, could feel it. His lips came down to press against yours, it was soft and gentle at first before turning into something more needy and eager as his tongue slipped into your mouth. As you pulled back panting to catch your breath, you noticed his smudged lips before he pulled you back in for a kiss. His long arms snaked around your waist to pull you deeper into his trailer, slamming the door shut with his foot so no wandering gazes could witness what was going to happen next.