18+ only blog! If you don't have your age visible on your blog, you're getting blocked! Minors interacting with my nsft posts get auto-blocked! I'm Mod Thimble (They/She/28), and the sin bin is a multi-fandom imagines/scenarios/headcanons blog! YOU WILL BE BLOCKED IF YOU ONLY LIKE OR SPAM LIKE MY CONTENT. PLEASE READ THE RULES HERE FANDOMS ARE: HERE COMMISSION INFO: HERE ASK: OPEN SUBMISSION: OPEN COMMISSIONS: OPEN Headcanons: OPEN Scenarios: OPEN
Another week has already gone by! The more I focus on the game, the faster time seems to pass!
A good portion of the café scene has already been programmed, but it still needs a few simple sprites. I'll probably use placeholders for now and finish those after the beta testing is complete!
I do have just one screenshots to share with you all! Just remember they may or may not have been edited~
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Mais uma semana já passou! Quanto mais me concentro no jogo, mais rápido o tempo parece passar!
Boa parte da cena do café já foi programada, mas ainda precisa de alguns sprites simples. Provavelmente usarei marcadores (placeholders) por enquanto e os terminarei depois que o teste beta for concluído!
Tenho apenas uma captura de tela para compartilhar com todos vocês! Lembre-se apenas de que eles podem ou não ter sido editados~
pre-raphaelite is such a romantic song.......... the meaning behind it is obviously not comparing yourself to other women and finding beauty in each other but god DAMN it's such a yearner song
working with little kids is so dangerous. you get one kid who has a unique way of speaking & then spend the rest of your life with an internal monologue like “me’s go bathroom?”
the kid who replaced his hard G sounds with soft ones, leaving me incapable of thinking of glasses as anything other than jlasses
kid who would holler "DID" any time she finished her work no matter how many times we told her to just raise her hand
kid who began her scary stories with "once a time" and her friend who began his with "paw time"
middle schooler i had during student teaching who pronounced magritte as "mah-gritty"
the kid who said "i got boogies comin out my nose" while sobbing and the kid who said "theres his puddle of cry" while describing a drawing, both of whom i think of when im crying
kid who said that if he was 80 he would get big and turn grandpa
kid who, for no reason in particular, would just say "like a little feet" as a standalone phrase in relation to nothing
edit how could i forget. the kid who got sneezed on and angrily said "whyd you blessyou on me"
Getting a personal tattoo for them (The Freak Circus)
idk i just thought it'd be cute
Pierrot's would be a simple yellow star, much like his pin. Absolutely enamored with it before you even tell him it's because of him. He openly stares at it whenever it's on display, wherever you decided to put it. Traces it when you two sit together, purring like a content cat.
Harlequin's is a green heart, thorned tendrils spreading out from it. Either a tramp stamp or a womb tattoo. Something special, just for his eyes. He loves it. He always loves to keep a claim on you, so this works for when the bite marks fade. Drags his tongue over it when you two have sex.
Doctor's is a red and cyan heart- more anatomically correct. Hurts like a bitch, but it'd be over your sternum. It curbs that desire to rip your chest open and thread his fingers through your ribs to keep you close. More interested in the healing process and what was going through your mind when you wanted to get it, but he can appreciate the sentimental reason for the tattoo. He asks to examine it often, even long after it's healed. Trailing gentle claws along the delicate lines as if committing it to memory.
Ticket Taker's is black and white, almost like a yin-yang symbol with blue and gold in the two halves. Hidden on the inside of your wrist, visible when needed but hidden to most people. Bil is a possessive man, but in a quiet way. Looming in the background as you do your tasks. He likes having a claim on you, and is glad it isn't something that draws so much attention that it's gaudy. Thinks it's a ridiculous, impulsive thing. But rubs circles into it when he holds your hand.
Jester's is a ring of purple diamonds around your upper arm, where he tends to touch or grab when he demands your attention. He finds it amusing that you'd be so obvious in your affections- in his claim to you- that you'd mark it on your skin. Suspiciously, a lot of your clothes end up becoming short sleeves or sleeveless tops after. You'll catch him eyeing it from time to time, and his touch lingers when he places a hand on the diamonds.
HELLO HELLO DESTINYY!! I WANTED TO ASK YOU HOW DO YOU THINK THE TFC CAST LAUGHS? Like do they have a silent laugh or one that echoes throughout the whole circus?😭😭
OMGGGG WHAT A CUTE ASK AHHH!
I sadly don't have any sound clips on me so I'll describe to the best of my ability:
Pierrot-as light as a feather, as deep as an ocean. His laugh grows on you like vines and thorns with the equal beauty of a rose on every stem.
Harlequin- he chuckles mostly with his diaphragm but if you get him to laugh genuinely he will practically sing to you. Every chortle goes up and down like waves, he smiles genuinely when doing this.
Tickettaker- he will titter and cover his mouth politely, shy as a humming bird. You will be humbled by how controlled and soft his sound is, violins can only strain against their bows in envy.
Doctor-when he's truly happy he pauses....until two beats later, after you think he won't laugh, he'll burst with the loudest, sweetest, but most shocking noise. Fingers dragging against a cello's strings, fast, harsh, but with purpose.
Jester-it chills you. His laughter like fingers dancing across your spine. It crawls over you until it covers your eyes and you can only hear him. All of him. Fully.
Run Rabbit, Into the Monsters' Den Chapter 4 (Eventual Polycirco/Reader) [The Freak Circus]
CW: Reader has a breakdown, Pierrot being Pierrot
Read the fic on AO3 here!
If you like it, reblog it!
--------------------------
You welcomed the dreams of jingling bells and soft whispers this time. The visions of Pierrot holding you in his muscular arms, dancing with you in the dark and dragging knives along your skin. Even of Harlequin, pressed up against your back with his hand around your throat. You woke up flustered, clutching the blankets as you stared at the ceiling. You swallowed thickly.
You really needed to get laid.
You took a quick shower, hurrying around your apartment to get ready. You stopped at your desk, spotting all your little trinkets you’ve collected recently. The paper rose still sat in the to-go cup, its paint now dry and dark. The two plushies sat in opposite corners of the desk, with their respective pins stuck to their little clothes. Pierrot’s punched ticket also sat in the plushie’s little arms. The hat prize you- well, Pierrot- won hung on a hook just above the desk. It was a cute little corner, if you could toot your own horn.
You took both pins from the plushies, sticking them into your bag alongside other pins from your various favorite series. You thought that was a good compromise, so it wouldn’t be an issue of whose pin was where. Slinging the bag over your shoulder, you headed out the door. You weren’t in as big of a rush today. Sure, you didn’t want to drag on too much and possibly miss Pierrot, but you didn’t have to run to work.
You hummed as you strolled toward the supermarket, thinking back to the night before. Your skin tingled where both performers touched and grabbed at your skin. A shiver went down your spine at the memory of Pierrot’s whisper; his breath at your ear and the scent that lingered on your clothes after you left. You pictured Harlequin’s arms locking you into place. Any other scenario, that would scare you. But something about these two gave you a sick thrill at their attention. It was selfish, really. Years of bullshit leading you to cling to the first men who treat you like you were desirable and not just damaged goods.
You entered the store, grabbing a cart to pretend to be normal for a bit. You grabbed the essentials before moving to the snack aisle. You were debating on what cookies to get as you rounded the corner, only to stop at the entrance to the aisle. A tall man stood at the other end, looking over a box of little debbie cupcakes. His hood was up and he had a mask over the lower half of his face, but he was so tall that it set off the alarms. Slowly, you wheeled the cart down the aisle.
“Pierrot?” You were hesitant to call out to him. He jumped, almost dropping the box of sweets. When he turned, you saw the shift from shock to pure glee. He hurried to meet you halfway down the aisle. Your previous doubts were pushed away as he placed a hand on yours over the steering bar of the cart with the utmost care. You felt a familiar heat travel up your neck and ears.
“Guess we don’t have to meet at the cafe, then, huh? You here for the troupe or is this a personal snack stash?” You nodded toward the cupcakes as you spoke. Pierrot hid the cupcakes behind his back with a sheepish shift of the feet. Guess it was personal snacks. You snorted in amusement and grabbed a package of double stuffed oreos for yourself.
“You wanna finish up together? Maybe I can buy us something to make for lunch,” you offered. It was the least you could do after such a wonderful night. His eyes went wide as he nodded. You offered for him to throw his stuff into your cart to make the trip easier. The two of you grabbed a few more snack packages, before you pulled your list out. You tapped at the little notepad with your pen, now wondering what to get for lunch.
“You allergic to shrimp?” you asked as you got an idea. When he shook his head, you went to go get ingredients. You wrote down what you’d need real quick, putting your pen on the collar of your shirt when you were done.
“I got leftover rice in the fridge I gotta use- shrimp fried rice sounds good. I hope they got those egg rolls I like…” You mumbled to yourself. Your stomach rumbled at the idea of food, which Pierrot seemed to hear as his head snapped down to you. You didn’t look at him, embarrassed.
“Did you eat this morning?” His voice was low, but he didn’t lean down to whisper. You supposed he didn’t need to worry about breaking character if he wasn’t in character to begin with. You gave him a noncommittal hum.
“Eh… I always feel sick right after I get up, so I don’t eat for a little bit or just shove down a protein bar. I usually eat more when it hits lunch,” you admitted, feeling compelled under his worried puppy-dog eyes. You kept the reasonings for your nauseousness to yourself, not wanting to bring up the nightmares and bad memories that’d make you toss and turn. A part of you was grateful- if ashamed- that you had been so focused on Pierrot that your dreams centered around him lately.
“Do you need medicine for this illness, my dear?” Pierrot couldn’t help but ask. You shook your head, reaching over to pat his arm.
“It’s not a condition or anything, big guy, I’m just… an active sleeper. I move so much at night I just wake up queasy. It always passes in, like, an hour or so,” you explained. Your reassurance- plus the affectionate nickname- seemed to put him at ease. You smiled, thankful the subject was over, as you gathered the ingredients for lunch. You also decided to grab some Ben and Jerry's ice cream. For funsies.
As you approached the checkout, you began putting things on the conveyer belt without a care. Pierrot tried to separate the items, but you waved him off.
“It’ll be easier to just pay all at once. You can always pay me back after we get to my place and split it up, if it bugs you that badly,” you told him. The guy got you a free circus trip, you could pay for some cupcakes and ice cream. Pierrot nodded slightly, appreciative. You paid for your shared groceries, with Pierrot grabbing most of the bags as if they weighed nothing. You took the smaller ones and began to lead him back to your apartment. You filled most of the conversation, yapping about the medical drama you had been watching.
“I don’t think anything could top ER and House, honestly. House was bullshit but it was fun bullshit. This one’s just… I know there’s gonna be medical inaccuracies cause it’s fake, but damn it’s bad,” you laughed. Pierrot had no idea what you were talking about, but he held onto every word like it was gospel. You continued your mini-rant as you brought him to your apartment, opening the door for him since he had more bags.
“Kitchen’s right over here- you can set the bags down and get comfortable.” You led him to the kitchen. Despite your instructions of “set the bags down and get comfortable”, he took initiative and began helping you put items away. You huffed in response, but knew he also needed to find his items. Any of his stuff was put back into bags and tied so you’d remember. You kept the lunch components out, however.
You grabbed a soda can out of the fridge and passed it to him with a more firm order to go sit. Pierrot knew he certainly didn’t like people flitting about in the kitchen when he cooked, so he obeyed and sat at the small table nearby. You felt his eyes on you the whole time you moved and gathered what you needed. As the food started cooking, you glanced back at him. He had taken his mask off, revealing that he was still in his costume mask. He kept everything else on, including the hood.
“How long’s the circus staying in town, anyway?” You almost dreaded asking that question. You knew he’d have to leave eventually, but hadn’t thought about a timeline on… Whatever this was, between you two. You can tell he hadn’t either, as the question seemed to surprise him. There was an odd look in his eye before he spoke.
“We tend to stay until ticket sales start dwindling, darling. There is no set time on our departure. Are you worried our time would be cut short?” His head tilted slightly. You didn’t respond right away, going back to the rice to make sure it wouldn’t burn. Guilt pooled in your gut. Shame. Yes, you were worried about that. But this guy had a life outside of your feelings.
“... A bit. I’ve… liked talking with you, as much as it seems I dominate conversations,” you said, half joking about his silence. You heard him give a low chuckle. The noise made your face warm. You finished the easy meal quickly and plated it up. You put the food on the table and sat across from him.
“I could listen to you for hours. I adore your voice- I look forward to it every day,” Pierrot hummed, almost lovesick in his confession. His gaze was so intense it had you looking away. You were sure he could hear your heart beating against your ribs.
“We’ve only known each other for a couple days, Pierrot. I can’t be that interesting.” You nearly jumped back when his hand shot forward. He grasped it with such reverence you’d think he was addressing a monarch. His wide golden eyes traced your shocked, flustered face like he was committing it to memory. He always looked at you like that, even when you weren’t looking at him.
“But you are, my dear. I hurry to finish my duties at the circus just to be able to see you for a moment. I find myself drawn to you, ever since we met that day.” Both of his hands held onto your own, a thumb rubbing your skin idly. You forgot about your food as he talked. His sincerity left you breathless. In the back of your mind, you remembered all the lovebombing and promises of adoration. You started to pull your hand away.
“You’re sweet, Pierrot, but-!” You jumped as he suddenly stood. He got up and rounded the table, kneeling at your feet. His claws dug into your pants, clinging to you. You grabbed his wrists on instinct, body growing tense.
“Please, my dear, I assure you I haven’t thought of anything else since we met. Having you so close last night… Seeing you in a visage of mine drove me mad.” Pierrot’s tone changed as he spoke. From pleading to adoring to hungry. His hands crept up your thighs, brushing over your hips to hold your waist. A firm and needy grip where you could feel his claws through your shirt. You felt a lot of things at that moment. Excitement. Fear. Dread and anticipation.
Overall, you felt suffocatingly wanted. You didn’t know if it was wishful thinking that gave so much weight to his words, but you so desperately wanted them to be true. You wanted someone to need you as you were, not just a body to possess. Not just a trophy to be sat on a shelf and dusted off for guests to marvel at.
Your trembling hands found his shoulders. He moved closer to you, your knees automatically parting to allow him into your personal space. Pierrot’s large hands slid up your back, eyes blown wide. You gripped the fabric of his hoodie, not knowing whether to push him off or pull him closer.
“Please, Pierrot.” Your voice broke a bit. You, technically, were pleading for him to stop. To come to his senses and realize you weren’t worth all this. That you were just a washed up nurse who could only run from all their problems. You didn’t deserve the effort.
Instead, he moved further into you. The cold mouth of his mask met yours, but he was so odd already you didn’t question it at first. Then you felt his tongue. Your heart hammered in your chest as your lips parted for him. Pierrot let out a pathetic, needy groan as his tongue entered your mouth. His tongue was long, its movements frantic as he tried to get as much of you as he could. You whimpered, releasing his shoulders to wrap your arms around them instead.
Pierrot only withdrew for a moment, allowing you both to catch your breath, before he dove back in with a new fervor. A hand cradled the back of your head like you were made of porcelain- something precious to be handled with care. A stark contrast to the way he kissed you like a man starved. His fingers curled into a loose fist in your hair, slowly pulling your head back. You couldn’t help the pretty moan that escaped.
“You don’t know what you do to me,” he whispered against your mouth. You kept your eyes screwed shut as his mouth trailed down. Sharp teeth nipped at your skin, only to have his tongue lap at the impending hickey to ease the stinging. The hand on your back moved down, slowly pushing your shirt up and all but groping whatever skin he could get to.
Everything crashed back to reality when your phone suddenly rang. You jumped sky high, like you had been caught making out with your boyfriend on school grounds by the strict teacher. You didn’t even need to pull the device out to know who called. Only one person seemed to anymore.
Everything was too much at once. His arms were a cage rather than a cradle, and you couldn’t breathe. Your blood rushed painfully through your chest and your head swam. Fat tears sprang so suddenly that you barely felt them as they dripped down your cheeks.
“I can’t- Get off-!” The distress in your voice had Pierrot on edge. He let you go quickly, both of you standing so quickly that your chair fell over. You held onto the table as you tried to ground yourself. Pierrot stepped closer, intending to comfort you, but you swatted his hand away.
“DON’T TOUCH ME!” You screeched with such raw fear that it made him freeze. You looked at him, terrified, but he could see how unfocused your gaze was. Like you were looking through him rather than at him. You let out a few ragged noises- a mixture of gasps and sobs- as you stepped back. Pierrot held his hands out, curling and unclenching his fingers as he thought about what his next move should be.
The fear melted into realization into anger into shame. You always did this. You ruined everything for everyone. It was why you were living alone and working a dead-end minimum wage job. You choked out a sob, tense shoulders slumping.
“I’m… God, Pierrot, I’m so fucking sorry,” you hiccuped, scrubbing at your pathetic tears in an attempt to stop them. You took shaking breaths in an attempt to keep from hyperventilating. Your nails dug into your palms until it hurt.
“You’re nice- You’re really nice. You’ve been nicer to me than a lot of people, and that scares me. I don’t… I don’t want to use you just to make myself feel better.” You finally looked up at him again, seeing his heartbroken expression. You forced your heavy legs to move toward the counter. You grabbed his bags and handed them over.
“Please don’t push me away,” he pleaded, reaching out to you. Your heart clenched as you pulled away from him.
“I’m not… I don’t want you gone, Pierrot, I just… I can’t do this to you. Please, just… go.” You were near begging him to leave. You left the kitchen quickly, needing to be away from him before you made a poor decision. It was quiet for a long time, but you finally heard the front door click shut.
You crept out of your room to ensure he truly left. The food lay on the table, cold and uneaten. The only indication anyone was here at all. No broken glass after an argument and no drywall needing to be filled. Just the dreadful, lonely silence. You stumbled back to your room and dropped onto the bed. With seemingly no one to witness your breakdown, you let your tears flow freely until you fell asleep.
Slowly, ever so slowly, your balcony door opened after you were out. Pierrot moved like a lion after a sleeping gazelle, afraid that a movement too fast would wake you from your fitful rest. He knelt at your bedside, taking in your puffy face and tear stained cheeks. He rested his head on the mattress, his knuckles brushing along your cheek in reverence. Your haunting confession played out in his mind.
“What didn’t he do?”
“I know how it feels to be treated so harshly that you believe you’re undeserving of love, my dear,” he whispered so softly, so lovingly. He brushed your hair back, placing his palm against your cheek. Even while you rested, your breathing came in shuddering gasps. Your body was ragged from despair.
“That wretch has taken something and broken it. But I can piece you back together, my love. I know you were just scared. Scared to let yourself be happy. You don’t need to be afraid. Not of me. I’ll be whatever you wish me to be, just so you can be secure. I can pretend you aren’t driving me insane with desire.” He grew more manic as he spoke, face inching closer. His forehead pressed to yours. His hands shook with need.
“I can keep that scarred heart in my hands for you, my sweet angel. Shield you from this cruel world. You just need to let me in, my love.” Pierrot was quick to lift his mask, unable to resist placing a kiss on your slack lips. He didn’t go farther, putting his mask back in place to keep himself in check. He couldn’t risk you waking up and seeing him uncovered. Not now; not when your fragile heart was already shattered. He’d make you see he was your new safe place. That you could use him however you needed, as long as you just looked at him with need and love like you did earlier. You’d love him, in time. You had to. You had to.
Run Rabbit, Into the Monsters' Den Chapter 4 (Eventual Polycirco/Reader) [The Freak Circus]
CW: Reader has a breakdown, Pierrot being Pierrot
Read the fic on AO3 here!
If you like it, reblog it!
--------------------------
You welcomed the dreams of jingling bells and soft whispers this time. The visions of Pierrot holding you in his muscular arms, dancing with you in the dark and dragging knives along your skin. Even of Harlequin, pressed up against your back with his hand around your throat. You woke up flustered, clutching the blankets as you stared at the ceiling. You swallowed thickly.
You really needed to get laid.
You took a quick shower, hurrying around your apartment to get ready. You stopped at your desk, spotting all your little trinkets you’ve collected recently. The paper rose still sat in the to-go cup, its paint now dry and dark. The two plushies sat in opposite corners of the desk, with their respective pins stuck to their little clothes. Pierrot’s punched ticket also sat in the plushie’s little arms. The hat prize you- well, Pierrot- won hung on a hook just above the desk. It was a cute little corner, if you could toot your own horn.
You took both pins from the plushies, sticking them into your bag alongside other pins from your various favorite series. You thought that was a good compromise, so it wouldn’t be an issue of whose pin was where. Slinging the bag over your shoulder, you headed out the door. You weren’t in as big of a rush today. Sure, you didn’t want to drag on too much and possibly miss Pierrot, but you didn’t have to run to work.
You hummed as you strolled toward the supermarket, thinking back to the night before. Your skin tingled where both performers touched and grabbed at your skin. A shiver went down your spine at the memory of Pierrot’s whisper; his breath at your ear and the scent that lingered on your clothes after you left. You pictured Harlequin’s arms locking you into place. Any other scenario, that would scare you. But something about these two gave you a sick thrill at their attention. It was selfish, really. Years of bullshit leading you to cling to the first men who treat you like you were desirable and not just damaged goods.
You entered the store, grabbing a cart to pretend to be normal for a bit. You grabbed the essentials before moving to the snack aisle. You were debating on what cookies to get as you rounded the corner, only to stop at the entrance to the aisle. A tall man stood at the other end, looking over a box of little debbie cupcakes. His hood was up and he had a mask over the lower half of his face, but he was so tall that it set off the alarms. Slowly, you wheeled the cart down the aisle.
“Pierrot?” You were hesitant to call out to him. He jumped, almost dropping the box of sweets. When he turned, you saw the shift from shock to pure glee. He hurried to meet you halfway down the aisle. Your previous doubts were pushed away as he placed a hand on yours over the steering bar of the cart with the utmost care. You felt a familiar heat travel up your neck and ears.
“Guess we don’t have to meet at the cafe, then, huh? You here for the troupe or is this a personal snack stash?” You nodded toward the cupcakes as you spoke. Pierrot hid the cupcakes behind his back with a sheepish shift of the feet. Guess it was personal snacks. You snorted in amusement and grabbed a package of double stuffed oreos for yourself.
“You wanna finish up together? Maybe I can buy us something to make for lunch,” you offered. It was the least you could do after such a wonderful night. His eyes went wide as he nodded. You offered for him to throw his stuff into your cart to make the trip easier. The two of you grabbed a few more snack packages, before you pulled your list out. You tapped at the little notepad with your pen, now wondering what to get for lunch.
“You allergic to shrimp?” you asked as you got an idea. When he shook his head, you went to go get ingredients. You wrote down what you’d need real quick, putting your pen on the collar of your shirt when you were done.
“I got leftover rice in the fridge I gotta use- shrimp fried rice sounds good. I hope they got those egg rolls I like…” You mumbled to yourself. Your stomach rumbled at the idea of food, which Pierrot seemed to hear as his head snapped down to you. You didn’t look at him, embarrassed.
“Did you eat this morning?” His voice was low, but he didn’t lean down to whisper. You supposed he didn’t need to worry about breaking character if he wasn’t in character to begin with. You gave him a noncommittal hum.
“Eh… I always feel sick right after I get up, so I don’t eat for a little bit or just shove down a protein bar. I usually eat more when it hits lunch,” you admitted, feeling compelled under his worried puppy-dog eyes. You kept the reasonings for your nauseousness to yourself, not wanting to bring up the nightmares and bad memories that’d make you toss and turn. A part of you was grateful- if ashamed- that you had been so focused on Pierrot that your dreams centered around him lately.
“Do you need medicine for this illness, my dear?” Pierrot couldn’t help but ask. You shook your head, reaching over to pat his arm.
“It’s not a condition or anything, big guy, I’m just… an active sleeper. I move so much at night I just wake up queasy. It always passes in, like, an hour or so,” you explained. Your reassurance- plus the affectionate nickname- seemed to put him at ease. You smiled, thankful the subject was over, as you gathered the ingredients for lunch. You also decided to grab some Ben and Jerry's ice cream. For funsies.
As you approached the checkout, you began putting things on the conveyer belt without a care. Pierrot tried to separate the items, but you waved him off.
“It’ll be easier to just pay all at once. You can always pay me back after we get to my place and split it up, if it bugs you that badly,” you told him. The guy got you a free circus trip, you could pay for some cupcakes and ice cream. Pierrot nodded slightly, appreciative. You paid for your shared groceries, with Pierrot grabbing most of the bags as if they weighed nothing. You took the smaller ones and began to lead him back to your apartment. You filled most of the conversation, yapping about the medical drama you had been watching.
“I don’t think anything could top ER and House, honestly. House was bullshit but it was fun bullshit. This one’s just… I know there’s gonna be medical inaccuracies cause it’s fake, but damn it’s bad,” you laughed. Pierrot had no idea what you were talking about, but he held onto every word like it was gospel. You continued your mini-rant as you brought him to your apartment, opening the door for him since he had more bags.
“Kitchen’s right over here- you can set the bags down and get comfortable.” You led him to the kitchen. Despite your instructions of “set the bags down and get comfortable”, he took initiative and began helping you put items away. You huffed in response, but knew he also needed to find his items. Any of his stuff was put back into bags and tied so you’d remember. You kept the lunch components out, however.
You grabbed a soda can out of the fridge and passed it to him with a more firm order to go sit. Pierrot knew he certainly didn’t like people flitting about in the kitchen when he cooked, so he obeyed and sat at the small table nearby. You felt his eyes on you the whole time you moved and gathered what you needed. As the food started cooking, you glanced back at him. He had taken his mask off, revealing that he was still in his costume mask. He kept everything else on, including the hood.
“How long’s the circus staying in town, anyway?” You almost dreaded asking that question. You knew he’d have to leave eventually, but hadn’t thought about a timeline on… Whatever this was, between you two. You can tell he hadn’t either, as the question seemed to surprise him. There was an odd look in his eye before he spoke.
“We tend to stay until ticket sales start dwindling, darling. There is no set time on our departure. Are you worried our time would be cut short?” His head tilted slightly. You didn’t respond right away, going back to the rice to make sure it wouldn’t burn. Guilt pooled in your gut. Shame. Yes, you were worried about that. But this guy had a life outside of your feelings.
“... A bit. I’ve… liked talking with you, as much as it seems I dominate conversations,” you said, half joking about his silence. You heard him give a low chuckle. The noise made your face warm. You finished the easy meal quickly and plated it up. You put the food on the table and sat across from him.
“I could listen to you for hours. I adore your voice- I look forward to it every day,” Pierrot hummed, almost lovesick in his confession. His gaze was so intense it had you looking away. You were sure he could hear your heart beating against your ribs.
“We’ve only known each other for a couple days, Pierrot. I can’t be that interesting.” You nearly jumped back when his hand shot forward. He grasped it with such reverence you’d think he was addressing a monarch. His wide golden eyes traced your shocked, flustered face like he was committing it to memory. He always looked at you like that, even when you weren’t looking at him.
“But you are, my dear. I hurry to finish my duties at the circus just to be able to see you for a moment. I find myself drawn to you, ever since we met that day.” Both of his hands held onto your own, a thumb rubbing your skin idly. You forgot about your food as he talked. His sincerity left you breathless. In the back of your mind, you remembered all the lovebombing and promises of adoration. You started to pull your hand away.
“You’re sweet, Pierrot, but-!” You jumped as he suddenly stood. He got up and rounded the table, kneeling at your feet. His claws dug into your pants, clinging to you. You grabbed his wrists on instinct, body growing tense.
“Please, my dear, I assure you I haven’t thought of anything else since we met. Having you so close last night… Seeing you in a visage of mine drove me mad.” Pierrot’s tone changed as he spoke. From pleading to adoring to hungry. His hands crept up your thighs, brushing over your hips to hold your waist. A firm and needy grip where you could feel his claws through your shirt. You felt a lot of things at that moment. Excitement. Fear. Dread and anticipation.
Overall, you felt suffocatingly wanted. You didn’t know if it was wishful thinking that gave so much weight to his words, but you so desperately wanted them to be true. You wanted someone to need you as you were, not just a body to possess. Not just a trophy to be sat on a shelf and dusted off for guests to marvel at.
Your trembling hands found his shoulders. He moved closer to you, your knees automatically parting to allow him into your personal space. Pierrot’s large hands slid up your back, eyes blown wide. You gripped the fabric of his hoodie, not knowing whether to push him off or pull him closer.
“Please, Pierrot.” Your voice broke a bit. You, technically, were pleading for him to stop. To come to his senses and realize you weren’t worth all this. That you were just a washed up nurse who could only run from all their problems. You didn’t deserve the effort.
Instead, he moved further into you. The cold mouth of his mask met yours, but he was so odd already you didn’t question it at first. Then you felt his tongue. Your heart hammered in your chest as your lips parted for him. Pierrot let out a pathetic, needy groan as his tongue entered your mouth. His tongue was long, its movements frantic as he tried to get as much of you as he could. You whimpered, releasing his shoulders to wrap your arms around them instead.
Pierrot only withdrew for a moment, allowing you both to catch your breath, before he dove back in with a new fervor. A hand cradled the back of your head like you were made of porcelain- something precious to be handled with care. A stark contrast to the way he kissed you like a man starved. His fingers curled into a loose fist in your hair, slowly pulling your head back. You couldn’t help the pretty moan that escaped.
“You don’t know what you do to me,” he whispered against your mouth. You kept your eyes screwed shut as his mouth trailed down. Sharp teeth nipped at your skin, only to have his tongue lap at the impending hickey to ease the stinging. The hand on your back moved down, slowly pushing your shirt up and all but groping whatever skin he could get to.
Everything crashed back to reality when your phone suddenly rang. You jumped sky high, like you had been caught making out with your boyfriend on school grounds by the strict teacher. You didn’t even need to pull the device out to know who called. Only one person seemed to anymore.
Everything was too much at once. His arms were a cage rather than a cradle, and you couldn’t breathe. Your blood rushed painfully through your chest and your head swam. Fat tears sprang so suddenly that you barely felt them as they dripped down your cheeks.
“I can’t- Get off-!” The distress in your voice had Pierrot on edge. He let you go quickly, both of you standing so quickly that your chair fell over. You held onto the table as you tried to ground yourself. Pierrot stepped closer, intending to comfort you, but you swatted his hand away.
“DON’T TOUCH ME!” You screeched with such raw fear that it made him freeze. You looked at him, terrified, but he could see how unfocused your gaze was. Like you were looking through him rather than at him. You let out a few ragged noises- a mixture of gasps and sobs- as you stepped back. Pierrot held his hands out, curling and unclenching his fingers as he thought about what his next move should be.
The fear melted into realization into anger into shame. You always did this. You ruined everything for everyone. It was why you were living alone and working a dead-end minimum wage job. You choked out a sob, tense shoulders slumping.
“I’m… God, Pierrot, I’m so fucking sorry,” you hiccuped, scrubbing at your pathetic tears in an attempt to stop them. You took shaking breaths in an attempt to keep from hyperventilating. Your nails dug into your palms until it hurt.
“You’re nice- You’re really nice. You’ve been nicer to me than a lot of people, and that scares me. I don’t… I don’t want to use you just to make myself feel better.” You finally looked up at him again, seeing his heartbroken expression. You forced your heavy legs to move toward the counter. You grabbed his bags and handed them over.
“Please don’t push me away,” he pleaded, reaching out to you. Your heart clenched as you pulled away from him.
“I’m not… I don’t want you gone, Pierrot, I just… I can’t do this to you. Please, just… go.” You were near begging him to leave. You left the kitchen quickly, needing to be away from him before you made a poor decision. It was quiet for a long time, but you finally heard the front door click shut.
You crept out of your room to ensure he truly left. The food lay on the table, cold and uneaten. The only indication anyone was here at all. No broken glass after an argument and no drywall needing to be filled. Just the dreadful, lonely silence. You stumbled back to your room and dropped onto the bed. With seemingly no one to witness your breakdown, you let your tears flow freely until you fell asleep.
Slowly, ever so slowly, your balcony door opened after you were out. Pierrot moved like a lion after a sleeping gazelle, afraid that a movement too fast would wake you from your fitful rest. He knelt at your bedside, taking in your puffy face and tear stained cheeks. He rested his head on the mattress, his knuckles brushing along your cheek in reverence. Your haunting confession played out in his mind.
“What didn’t he do?”
“I know how it feels to be treated so harshly that you believe you’re undeserving of love, my dear,” he whispered so softly, so lovingly. He brushed your hair back, placing his palm against your cheek. Even while you rested, your breathing came in shuddering gasps. Your body was ragged from despair.
“That wretch has taken something and broken it. But I can piece you back together, my love. I know you were just scared. Scared to let yourself be happy. You don’t need to be afraid. Not of me. I’ll be whatever you wish me to be, just so you can be secure. I can pretend you aren’t driving me insane with desire.” He grew more manic as he spoke, face inching closer. His forehead pressed to yours. His hands shook with need.
“I can keep that scarred heart in my hands for you, my sweet angel. Shield you from this cruel world. You just need to let me in, my love.” Pierrot was quick to lift his mask, unable to resist placing a kiss on your slack lips. He didn’t go farther, putting his mask back in place to keep himself in check. He couldn’t risk you waking up and seeing him uncovered. Not now; not when your fragile heart was already shattered. He’d make you see he was your new safe place. That you could use him however you needed, as long as you just looked at him with need and love like you did earlier. You’d love him, in time. You had to. You had to.
Rivendell greeted them with the coolness of waterfalls, healing silence, and the scent of blossoming trees. After the frantic ride through the wastes, fleeing from howling Wargs and ruthless Orcs, the Last Homely House felt like a dream come true.
For Thorin Oakenshield’s company, the past few weeks had blurred into one endless cycle of mud, sweat, blood, and road dust. And Y/N had shared every hardship equally. The dwarves had long grown accustomed to seeing her in an oversized man’s shirt, coarse trousers, and worn-out boots. Her hair was always hidden beneath a traveling hood, and her cheeks and nose were invariably smudged with soot or dried mud. She was a master at building fires, argued with the dwarves over stew portions, and never complained when forced to sleep on bare stone. In truth, amidst the chaos of survival, they had almost forgotten that a woman was traveling among them.
Only occasionally would the little Hobbit gallantly offer scraps of cloth, sourced from heaven knows where, so the girl could clean her face even a little. Y/N remembered that first awkward moment when Bilbo, looking embarrassed, handed her a clean piece of fabric to wipe her face after a downpour. Y/N had accepted it with surprise and wiped her face with relief. But when she pulled the cloth away, she curled her lip in disgust, noticing Bilbo wearing the exact same expression.
"I think I won't be giving this back to you," the girl cleared her throat, staring at the mixture of mud, sweat, and blood on the fabric. Bilbo nodded enthusiastically in agreement.
The dwarves had already visited the local fountain to wash, scrub their beards, and change into clean, albeit simple, tunics. They gathered on one of the open terraces awaiting dinner, loudly discussing Elven food as they fastidiously picked through salad leaves in bowls. Hardly anyone noticed Elrond smiling contentedly. Though a noble Elf, he took a certain pleasure in annoying dwarves.
"Where is Y/N?" Ori inquired, looking around the magnificent hall, his eyes scanning the table where Elrond, Gandalf, and Thorin sat.
"Some Elven maids led her away first," Fili grunted, popping a tomato into his mouth.
Their conversation died instantly when a beautiful lady appeared in the doorway. She stepped onto the terrace with confidence, seemingly oblivious to the pack of dwarves. There was something special about her; she was markedly different from the Elves, and that was exactly what commanded attention.
Dvalin froze, his wine cup hovering mid-air. Fili and Kili’s mouths hung open simultaneously, and Bofur dropped his favorite pipe.
Only by looking closer did they recognize Y/N’s features. The Elven maidens who had taken her under their wing had performed a miracle. The road grime was gone, replaced by glowing, clear skin. Her hair, freed from coarse knots, fell in soft waves over her shoulders, adorned with thin silver threads. But the greatest shock was the dress. Weightless, flowing silk the color of moonlight and young foliage draped softly over her figure, emphasizing her waist and the graceful line of her shoulders.
Y/N nervously adjusted a long sleeve, embarrassed by the intense, ringing silence of her companions.
"What?" she asked hesitantly, her voice sounding unusually soft. "I look silly, don't I? I told them I needed my old jacket..."
"Silly?" Kili breathed, the first to regain his speech. He stepped closer, as if afraid the vision might vanish. "Y/N, by Mahal’s beard... we simply forgot."
"Forgot what?" she frowned.
"That you’re a girl," Fili blurted out honestly, earning a sharp elbow to the ribs from Dwalin.
"You look stunning, lassie," Balin smiled warmly, rising to bow to her. "But, truth be told, we truly aren't used to seeing you... like this."
"Though these Elvish rags are far too thin," Dori grumbled, eyeing the fabric as if it were no stronger than a spiderweb. "It’s pretty, I won’t deny it, but is this clothing for such a brave maiden? No warmth, no dignity!"
"Right you are!" Gloin chimed in, slamming his fist on the table. "When we reclaim Erebor, Y/N, we shall sew you a proper dwarven gown! Made of heavy ruby velvet, embroidered with gold thread along the hem and sleeves!"
"And with patterns!" Bofur added, giving her a cheerful wink. "Believe me, in dwarven attire, you’ll look much better than in these Elven petals. No drafts, and fabric thick enough to stop an arrow! We promise you that!"
Y/N laughed—sincere and bright—and the sound made Thorin Oakenshield, sitting at the other table, take a deeper breath of the Rivendell air.
The King-in-Exile had not uttered a word since her appearance. His piercing blue eyes followed her every move. Thorin felt something heavy and hot stir within him. He, too, had forgotten. He had forgotten how fragile and beautiful she could be, because every day he had seen only a brave brother-in-arms, ready to charge an Orc with a dagger.
But now...
Thorin listened in silence to the chatter of his kin, but his thoughts drifted far beyond promises of velvet dresses. He looked at her exposed neck, her slender wrists, and thought that Elven silk was indeed too pale for her. She needed deep, rich colors to complement the glow of her skin.
And jewelry.
His mind was already painting pictures that made his heart beat faster. Elven silver does not suit her, Thorin thought possessively. She needs the gold of Erebor. Massive, warm gold woven by master smiths. A heavy necklace of sapphires to reflect the starlight, mithril bracelets, rings set with deep emeralds. He would shower her with the treasures of the Mountain once they reclaimed their home. She deserved to wear treasures pulled from the very heart of the earth, for her spirit was harder and brighter than any diamond.
Thorin’s gaze flickered to her loose hair, and another thought flashed through his mind, causing his hands to grip the armrests of his chair tightly.
A crown.
Not just a circlet. The crown of the Queen of the Lonely Mountain.
He imagined that crown upon her head—a circlet woven of starlight and red gold, unworn for generations. Thorin pictured her walking beside him through the vast halls of Erebor, in a velvet gown, chiming with gold, wearing a crown that proclaimed her power and his absolute devotion.
At that moment, Y/N turned her head and met Thorin’s gaze. The laughter on her lips faded slightly, replaced by a soft, hitched breath. In the eyes of the King Under the Mountain burned a flame so dark, ancient, and possessive that shivers ran down her spine—shivers that had nothing to do with the cool wind of Rivendell.
Thorin slowly inclined his head in a slight, dignified half-bow, never breaking eye contact. He said nothing aloud. But in his gaze was an unbreakable dwarven promise: “Wait until we reclaim the Mountain. And you will see how a Queen is truly meant to look.”
my nurse reader does the vein tap to doctor when they're just sitting together and goes "i could put a 16 in that." and doctor gets so hard he passes out
ive seen a couple people talk abt how its conflicting that pierrot seemingly moved on from columbina but also alludes to thinking abt columbina/the incident in the route where pierrot drugs/kidnaps mc. to me its like...
he probably HAS moved on, romantically speaking, from columbina. but what happened to her was a DEEPLY traumatic moment. he DOES love mc for who they are. he doesn't project his love for columbina onto them.
BUT. its likely, if mc tries to leave, he projects that trauma of losing her onto them. he knows they arent columbina, but he can protect them this time. he's stronger. they're more secure now- they don't need to eat each other to survive. he found something precious and he can keep them safe from even his family, this go around.
i think if he WAS projecting his love onto mc, it'd diminish his character imo. pierrot's impulsive and obsessive because of what HAPPENED to columbina, not because OF her/he wasnt obsessed WITH her. like she said in one of her AMAs, peirrot wasn't obsessive when she knew him (likely alluding to harlequin being the obsessive one between the two). not saying it couldn't be done well, if that WAS what neko went for, but with the narrative as it is a monster falling in love with a human BECAUSE they're human is more compelling
got a passing interest in naruto again and im eating instant ramen rn and the thought of naruto doing a "matching my girlfriend's eating pace" thing w me and he's just
dying
i take a decent but slow bite of noodles and then put the cup back down to scroll and naruto's actively crying
Run Rabbit, Into the Monsters' Den Chapter 3 (Eventual Polycirco/Reader) [The Freak Circus
CW: Blood/Knife throwing (its the knifethrowing scene).
Read the fic on AO3 here!
I wanted a cute circus date so bad day 1 so I'm MAKING one.
If you like my work, reblog it or leave a reply <3
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The carnival music flowed over the streets as you approached the circus entrance. People talked excitedly in line, wondering what a horror-themed circus would entail or talking about what they saw the night before. You slowly made your way to the ticketer, a man in a blue and gold suit. His mask was split down the middle with one side being black and the other white. The black eyehole had small droplet designs underneath. He tilted his hat in greeting.
“Good evening, visitor. Your ticket, please?” He held a gloved hand out for the slip. You handed it to him quickly, not wanting to hold up the line. He paused slightly at the red ticket. His head tilted to the side ever so slightly.
“A special ticket! Keep it safe, dear guest, as you’ll need to show it at the attractions,” he informed as he punched the ticket. A triangular punch that knocked out the little black shadow of the circus tent at the top of the ticket. It was kinda cute.
“How’s it special, if I may ask?” You walked a bit past him to allow him to continue to the next customer. He eyed you for a moment, before turning back to the guests.
“That ticket allows you front row seats at the Pierrot’s performance! Enjoy your visit,” he said before welcoming the next guest. You hummed curiously, thanking the man as you hurried in. The golden tickets of the box office were all over the place, and you even saw some black and pink ones. But no red or green. If it was just preferential or VIP status, why were tweedle dee and tweedle dum so secretive about their tickets? Just to get you interested?
Well. It kinda worked, you supposed. You were here and definitely were interested.
The scent of popcorn and sugar made your stomach rumble, while simultaneously making it turn. You knew you were hungry, but it was so overwhelming it knocked the need away. Maybe you’d get a small container of popcorn on the way out, just for the authenticity.
You looked around at the attractions as you thought about your potential snack. There were the usual rigged carnival games with giant stuffed animals. You even saw giant plushies of the circus members, which was adorable as all get-out in your opinion. You saw a strength game with a bell at the top, which tempted you to swing the mallet. But you knew the shows would start soon.
You approached the big purple tent, seeing the flaps closed with two staff members seemingly guarding it. You pouted a little bit upon realizing you missed one of the shows. The Jester, you assumed from the circus’ itinerary that was hung up periodically around the carnival grounds. You saw Pierrot’s show wouldn’t start for a bit, but Harlequin’s should be soon. So, despite knowing it might lead to some picking on the green bean’s end, you headed for the green tent.
People filed in, flashing their tickets at the staff in pink that stood outside. When you showed your ticket, the woman checking it suddenly straightened. She mechanically placed a hand on your shoulder as she guided you down the aisles of benches. You were confused, until she stopped at the front row. Without a word, she returned to her station outside. You watched her go, feeling unsettled and wondering what that was about. Slowly, you sat down. You knew the man taking tickets said you’d get front row seats to Pierrot’s show. Did he just fail to mention it’d be for others? Or did Harlequin put a special order in, knowing you’d be coming tonight?
The spotlight fell on the man of the hour. He bowed and waved, greeting the applauding crowd, as he scanned the bodies for something. Someone. He paused for just a moment, when he was facing your direction. His grin sharpened, giving you a single once-over. You shifted in your seat, uncomfortable and flustered under the attention. He went to his little puppet stage to begin his show. Six puppets appeared on the stage.
“Far from everything, where God’s eyes could not reach, the monsters lived. Forgotten. Hungry and silent…” Harlequin’s voice took on a dangerous tone as he spoke- theatrical and ominous. His tale unfolded into one of slavery and tragedy. Monsters forced to entertain just by existing- as if humanity owned them just because they were different. You felt yourself tear up a little bit, especially when they finally killed the man who had kept them captive. You were sure you were the odd one out, crying at a story told at a horror attraction, but it moved you.
It brought back some memories- ones you’d rather forget- but in a way it reminded you that you were here now. Despite the struggles you faced and the fights you got into just to escape to your new life. You saw him glance your way as you wiped your eyes. Harlequin didn’t miss a beat, however, as his story reached its end. Everyone clapped as it finished, and he thanked everyone for coming. The floodlights lit up the pathway out of the tent and people began to head out. You seemed to be the only one who thought it was a somber story, from how people talked as they exited.
You finally got to your feet. Harlequin approached as you shimmied onto the main walkway. He grinned down at you, bowing theatrically in greeting. Despite how intense the guy could be, you felt yourself smile. Maybe the story put you more at ease than usual.
“I was hoping you’d visit my tent tonight. Enjoy the show?” He stood up straight as he asked you. You nodded enthusiastically.
“A lot, yeah. Although that was a pretty sad story for a horror show. I expected more… puppet guts, I guess,” you laughed. Harlequin was silent for a moment, grin fading in confusion.
“Sad? You’re an odd little thing, usually the audience just goes “oh wow, thank goodness for that angel” and are happy the monsters got out.” He crossed his arms, amused. You felt yourself get flustered. You knew your view was a bit different, but to have the storyteller poke fun at you made your ears burn. You wrung your hands nervously, eyes drifting everywhere but his near mocking grin.
“Well, I… I guess I can relate to the struggle, to an extent. The feeling of being trapped and doing whatever you can to escape… Sorry- God, that’s lame,” you said, mumbling the last part to yourself. You blinked rapidly, trying to stop your burning eyes from shedding more tears in front of the guy. Harlequin was silent as he took in your awkward posture. He had an odd feeling in his guts as he pondered your words. No, you’d never be able to know their struggle. He should be angry with that stupid declaration, but your sincerity stopped him.
“I see you’re wearing my pin,” he finally said, changing the subject so abruptly you were worried you offended him somehow. His usual smarmy smile was back, however. He leaned closer to you, claws idly tracing the green heart on your collar.
“You don’t know how happy that makes me,” he purred, stepping closer. On instinct you moved back. He didn’t stop following you until your back hit the canvas of the tent. You swallowed thickly as he leaned down, face inches from yours. Whatever scent he wore was intoxicating, this close up. Your heart thudded in your chest.
“How intimate, this close to that lovely neck… I hope you didn’t just wear it to tease me, knowing you were going to his tent, dear one. Or would you be teasing him?” His whisper made you shiver. He braced his arms around your head, claws digging into the tent wall behind you. You pressed yourself back into the canvas like you could slip through it. His smile was predatory and hungry.
“Why’re you running? Are you that scared, or… secretly enjoying it?” One of his hands moved to your neck, thumb pressing down like he did when he placed the pin on your collar. You knew he could feel your pulse jumping against your throat. You opened your mouth to deny it, but a wave of shame stopped you. You felt your hands tremble. He chuckled lowly, releasing your throat to brush his knuckles along your cheek.
“I can read you- read that little heart running a mile a minute, little rabbit. Red doesn’t suit you, darling.” He trailed his fingers back down to the pin, but his eyes never left yours. He took in your cowering self, seemingly scared but pupils blown with confusing desire. He lowered his face further, lips next to your ear.
“That intoxicating green fits so much better. Don’t you think so?” His other hand left the tent wall, landing heavily on your shoulder. Harlequin let it slip down your arm, claws ever so lightly scratching the skin, before he stepped back finally. He seemed pleased, when it took you a minute to gather yourself. A heat spread through your stomach. You didn’t know if it was anger, embarrassment, shame, or even arousal. All you knew is that your chest felt tight.
He moved further away, allowing you space to finally leave. His head tilted toward the exit to the tent, as if he had heard something. When your gaze followed, however, you didn’t see anything there. Just the muffled carnival music and screams of delight from the circus-goers. Harlequin chuckled to himself about dramatics, then bowed to let you leave the tent. You coughed slightly.
“I’ll… see you around, Harlequin,” you finally got out, voice cracking in a way that made you wanna crawl into a hole. You hurried out, hearing his affirming hum and feeling his eyes strip away everything you were. Down to the last vulnerable layer. You didn’t know if you liked it.
The air of the circus was stuffy with hundreds of bodies breathing and bright lights bearing down on you, but your skin prickled with goosebumps. You wrapped your arms around yourself. Pierrot’s show would start soon. You needed to hurry. You pushed Harlequin’s actions out of your mind, despite the burning where his hands touched you. You didn’t even bother with food, your appetite completely gone after such a display.
You flashed your ticket at the pink-clad man at the doorway of the red tent. Just like the woman, he reached for you. You flinched at the contact, still raw from Harlequin’s hands, but obediently followed when he didn’t let your shoulder go. Just like before, you were led to the front row and left there without a word. You sat down, trying to slow your racing heart.
You noticed no one else was in the front rows here, either. You wondered if the personal tickets were super rare. Part of you hoped so. Even if Pierrot did just give it to you as thanks for getting those people off his ass, you liked feeling a bit special.
As you thought of the devil, the spotlights made their move to the center stage. Pierrot bowed, a sinister yet delighted grin on his features. Like Harlequin, his eyes scanned the crowd as music began to play. His eyes locked with yours for a long moment, smile widening as he began to move.
The lights started to change colors, spinning around Perrot to give the illusion his shadow was dancing alongside him. His steps were calculated, like an animal on the hunt. You couldn’t help but lean forward, almost entranced by how fluid his dance was. This wasn’t the same guy you met on the streets. The shy, eager puppy you had grown attached to was a wolf stalking his prey when the spotlight was on him. You watched him with wide and attentive eyes, which he seemed to notice. Even as the lights spiraled over him, and in the darkness of the seats, he was glued to you whenever he was facing your way. Your face grew warm under his gaze. You couldn’t seem to look away from him, even as you grew more flustered.
He slowly stopped his dance, the lights now focusing on a stage assistant that had been brought out. She was tied into a large box, wrists secured to the sides of the box and legs spread into the bottom corners. Her head lolled slowly, like she was trying to get her bearings. In the dim spotlights, you caught the glint of knives in Pierrot’s hands. You brought a hand up to your mouth in anticipation. You didn’t know anything about his act, but this was more in-line with what a circus of horrors would bring to the table.
With a flourish, he threw a knife at the woman’s head. You jumped as it lodged into the wood with a harsh thunk. People cheered him on. He glanced your way, seeing you staring at him in awe. In adoration. He twirled the next knife around his fingers, before letting it loose without even looking at his target. The weapon stuck just under the woman’s ribs, so close her costume was sliced open. She didn’t even flinch. People yelled for him to hit her. You didn’t like how blatant people were being about it, but… You felt adrenaline spiking. You wanted to see how close he could get. How far this show would go.
The third knife flew easily, landing just below her right arm. The faintest trail of blood dripped down onto her sleeve. It was an act, that was all. You felt your hands tremble again.
Pierrot watched you for a moment, until your eyes landed on him once again. He lifted the final knife, pressing the tip to the mouth of his mask. Then he turned back to the assistant, regarding her with such hate it had people on edge. With a harsh throw, the knife met its new resting place in the middle of her forehead. The mask cracked, people cheering as half of it fell to the floor. Her body slumped, only held up by the restraints. Blood poured down her face, her outfit, and onto the dirt floor beneath her.
Your hands flew to your mouth as people lost their minds around you. Despite the horror you felt as you watched the blood drip, there was something else. Some sick adoration at the fact he, seemingly, dedicated that last knife throw to you. The scent of iron hung in the air, heavy like a blanket. Pierrot’s eyes bored into yours, expression sharp and full of devotion. It made your chest feel tight. It scared you, just like the supposed dead body should. You finally tore yourself away and got up. You had to get out of here, before you delved into thoughts you locked away a year ago.
You hurried out of the tent, shoving your way into the cooler open air. Your knees felt like jelly as you stumbled off to the side, holding onto a prop crate to keep yourself upright.
You were being ridiculous. It was a HORROR circus. That was no doubt just really good practical effects combined with the low lighting. Whoever they consulted with to get the blood to flow just right deserved their own reward. Fake blood in movies always looked too runny or even too thick. That looked disgustingly real. It wasn’t their fault you were-
A hand landed on your shoulder. You tensed up instantly, shoving the hand away and moving back. You turned to see an apologetic Pierrot, holding his hands to his chest like he was burned. For the hundredth time tonight, you felt shame settle in your chest and a heat in your ears.
“God- I’m sorry, Pierrot, I didn’t… Sorry,” you apologized, instinctively ducking your head and looking down at your feet. You saw his hands drop slightly, before he bent down with a jingle. His usual smile returned, albeit with a bit of a worried crease to his brow. You let out a slow exhale, forcing yourself to lift your head again. You gave him a sheepish smile. He started to stand again, but caught sight of your collar.
That dangerous look you’ve only seen a couple times returned, hand gently grabbing the collar of your shirt. His claw clinked against the metal of Harlequin’s pin. You had forgotten about it during Pierrot’s performance. Maybe you should’ve taken it off.
He leaned closer, chest rising faster. He suddenly smiled, a strained expression that had you nervous. Pierrot pulled out a small pin of his own, a golden star, and pinned it just above Harlequin’s. You were beginning to think their weird little rivalry went beyond their circus roles. His hands slid down to rest on your upper arms
“Did you enjoy my show, dear?” Pierrot whispered, eyes darting around to see if anyone was watching. You shivered ever so slightly, nerves frayed and on fire at the same time. You nodded slightly, your own hands grasping his arms. Your face grew hot at how close he was.
“Y-yeah, it was incredible. You looked like two people out there, when you danced! And the effects on the knife throwing bit were so real. What’d you do to make the blood? Was it a pre-made solution or did you homebrew it?” Your anxiety faded away as you asked your questions. You held his arms a little tighter, curiosity getting the better of you now. Even through the fabric, you could feel the thick coil of muscle along his biceps.
He seemed surprised at your questions, but simply held a finger to his mouth and winked. You huffed, a bit disappointed. You understood, though. Maybe you could ask him again if you caught him outside of work hours. He leaned back down.
“I can show you the rest of the circus, if you’d like. I have no more shows tonight,” he offered, squeezing your arm lightly. You hesitated. Really, you should go home so you can get ready for tomorrow. You had a day off, but you also had chores you needed to do. But, despite Harlequin’s advances and the gnawing at the back of your mind, you were having fun.
“I… guess it wouldn’t be too bad, staying a bit longer. I don’t have to work tomorrow, so I can go shopping whenever I get up.” You watched him light up at your agreement. He released your arms, nearly vibrating in excitement. Pierrot held his arm out to you eagerly. You held onto it, butterflies flitting in your stomach. He really was cute when he wanted to be.
Pierrot led you through the attractions. You couldn’t help but marvel at the place, now that you weren’t as stressed out. You eyed all the stereotypical games; Ring toss, dart throwing, knocking over bullshit milk bottles with badly formed baseballs. You couldn’t help but eye the prizes, and one in particular caught your eye. A red and black hat, with three gold stars and bells on the tips. It was stupid, especially with the original owner right next to you. But the circus was time for stupid games and stupid prizes.
You stopped in front of the booth, looking at the balloons hanging on the backboard. Pierrot looked down at you, then the game. Pierrot jingled at you curiously. Despite your embarrassment, you let go of his arm to go to the game. He followed you closely as you paid for your darts.
You grabbed one, hand shaking slightly from the general adrenaline and nerves. Pierrot leaned down, placing gentle hands on you. One grabbed the hand with your dart to help you aim, the other on your waist. You were pretty sure having the knife throwing guy help you with this was cheating, but your head was swimming in the smell of him. Blood and greasepaint and the faintest trace of sugar. You hoped he wasn’t as in tune with your heart as Harlequin seemed to be.
He guided your hand, throwing the dart at the first balloon. It just barely hit, and you flinched at the pop. Pierrot hummed softly, tightening his grip on your hand as you grabbed the next dart.
“Relax, my dear. Too tense, and it won’t fly,” he mumbled in your ear. His voice shot a jolt down your spine. You forced your arm to relax, allowing him to help you. The dart landed more surely, popping the second balloon.
“Good, just like that,” he praised, voice wavering ever so slightly. You swallowed thickly, letting him lead you through the rest of the darts. His hand crept higher up your waist, fingers tense like he wanted to grab you. Pull you closer. You threw the final dart, not having missed a single one thanks to Pierrot’s guidance. The pink-clad worker clapped dully, then grabbed the pole to collect your chosen prize.
Remembering your goal, you pointed to the duplicate Pierrot hat. It was handed over to you wordlessly. Sheepishly, you turned to Pierrot. His eyes were wide, cheeks bright red. He helped you put it on and you couldn’t help but snort. The bells jingled as it settled on your head. His hands trembled, hovering just next to your cheeks. You fidgeted with one of the bells.
“I hope this isn’t stupid… I just thought it’d be a cute souvenir-!” Unable to stop himself, he squished your cheeks in his hands. You could almost see the hearts in his eyes as he looked you over. Your lips were forced to pucker due to how aggressively he was squishing you. You couldn’t help but laugh, though, as you removed his hands. He held them tightly instead.
“I guess you’re flattered, then?” you asked. He nodded instantly, an almost lovestruck look on his face. A strangled noise left the back of his throat as you finally started moving again. You pulled him away from the booth so other people could have a turn, getting one of your hands free. The other stayed in his grip, completely covered by his own. His hands were massive and sturdy.
As you two walked slowly toward the exit, you finally fished your phone out to check the time. Just as you did so, you got a call from your ex. You imagine you had quite a few voicemails, too. Your good mood dwindled as you weighed your options. You knew he wouldn’t stop calling no matter what. Some part of you hoped you could just get him to leave you alone. Your chest felt heavy.
You didn’t even realize you had stopped walking, only coming to when Pierrot tugged on your hand. You put your phone away after declining the call. You heaved out a breath as you pocketed the call. He squeezed your hand, a silent question for your well being.
“... My ex fiance. I… left a year or so ago after, uh…” You hesitated. You didn’t want to dump all your problems on a guy you barely knew. At the same time, he gave you that worried stare that said you could tell him anything and he’d be there for you. You continued to walk towards the exit as you thought.
“He and I… He… Jesus, I haven’t talked about him with anyone except my old therapist… He and I would fight a lot and… one night, I just grabbed what I could and left. I had him blocked but I guess he’s started using burners or something- he’s been calling me nonstop,” you told him, voice catching in your throat near the end. You wiped at your eyes as they grew wet.
“What did he do to you?” The concerned whisper caught you off guard. You didn’t even hear him lean down, but maybe the sound of your new hat drowned his out. You wrapped your free arm around yourself, feeling sick.
“What didn’t he do,” was your quiet, bitter laugh of an answer. You slipped your hand out of his, missing how he tried to follow it. Return it into his grasp. You forced yourself to calm down, looking up at him with a small smile.
“Look, I’ve had a lot of fun, but… I think that’s the cue for me to head home. Sorry for dragging the mood down, Pierrot.” You shifted on your feet. He kneeled in front of you, grasping your shoulders with a pleading look on his face. His eyes begged you to stay. That heavy feeling in your chest became a lighter, fluttering thing.
“... Tell you what. I gotta do stuff tomorrow. If you have time, meet me by the cafe and we can just… walk and talk maybe? Away from both our jobs.” You fidgeted with the bell on your hat again, too embarrassed to look at him. You really shouldn’t do this. You barely knew the guy, and shouldn’t be asking him out. But those big, hopeful puppy eyes drew you in. Maybe you could risk a bit of happiness for once.
Pierrot nodded so quickly you thought his hat would fly off. You laughed a bit, finally getting him to stand. You two finished your walk to the exit, where there were small souvenirs being sold just outside the exit. Pierrot bowed theatrically in farewell, head tilted up to look at you adoringly. You waved to him as you started to go. Like a lovestruck fool, Pierrot began to retreat back into the circus.
You passed by the souvenir carts, looking them over idly. Your eyes landed on smaller versions of the plushies hanging around as game prizes. You glanced back to make sure Pierrot wasn’t watching. When you didn’t spot his giant form anywhere, you made two purchases. You tucked the Pierrot and Harlequin plushies under your arm, walking with a dumb smile on your face. Your bells jingled lightly as you hurried home, covering up any soft noises that may follow you.
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