The story you've developed about Pierrot/Jester/Harlequin X F!reader is very interesting. It would make a really cool fanfic series. I'm dying to know more about how MC will be part of an armed negotiation and what her experience will be like in that environment
I just wanted to bite the bullet and make you like, a texan girly.
Yes, yes, I know, you're not a texan, ME NEITHER, but lets pretend we are for the duration of this fic, okay? Cool.
You (M/c) grew up around fire weapon and learned to use them, like you would have learned to swim at the ripe old age of 6.
You just know your way around guns. You had your own revolver in your former apartment (the one in the city that set the circus on fire, yes this one), and shared that fun fact about you to your husbands at some point in the relationship.
You could have gone the easy way and enter the army or the police, buuuuuuut ACAB and dismantle all army forces. It was not for you.
Pierrot was very impressed (and a bit scared)
You gain +5 charisma and sexyness in Harley's book
And Jester just quietly took note of that competence of yours in his head, and used it as leverage to allow you entry to the Monster camp as a human.
What did he promised precisely? You'll have to read the future chapters to discover it, all will be explained!
Women bleed from...Where?? (Pierrot TFC x FemReader
Synopsis - Every month Pierrot smells blood coming from his partner so he gives her bandaid after bandaid but it doesnt fix anything! When she finally explained what a period is...he proves hes the best boyfriend ever by caring for her during her time of the month
Eli note! Hello everyone! Sorry for so much Freak Circus, I love Pierrot hes so baby girl. Anyway! Drawing commissions are open guys! Super cheap. If you like my writing thats one way to support me
Pierrot had noticed it months ago.At first, he thought she was injured.
The scent of blood was unmistakable to a creature like him. Humans struggled to detect it sometimes, but monsters never did. Blood had a scent all its ownâsharp, metallic, impossible to mistake.
And every month, for roughly a week, it appeared.
Not enough to indicate a serious wound.Not enough to make her collapse.
Just... there.
Every single month.
The first time, he'd panicked.
The second time, he'd become suspicious.
By the fourth month, he'd developed a solution.
A bandaid.
Every morning during Blood Week, he would quietly appear beside her and hold one out.
No explanation.
Just a bandaid.
"...Thank you?" she'd say.
Pierrot would nod seriously.
Then leave.
It became routine.
Blood smell appears.
Bandaid is presented.
Bandaid is accepted.
Everyone moves on.
At least, everyone except Pierrot.
Because it made absolutely no sense.
A bandaid should have fixed it by now.
Months passed.
The blood kept returning.
The bandaids kept being offered.
The mystery remained unsolved.
Until one morning.
Pierrot froze halfway through making breakfast. His head snapped up.
Blood. Fresh blood.
His eyes widened.
"No."
He dropped everything.
The pan clattered onto the stove.
"P-Pierrot?"
He was across the room instantly.
"What happened?"
She blinked.
"What?"
"The blood."
His hands immediately began checking her arms.
Then her shoulders.
Then her face.
"Where is it?"
"What are you talking about?"
"The bleeding."
His voice was getting higher with panic.
"You are bleeding."
She stared. "Pierrotâ"
"I can smell it."
He sounded genuinely distressed.
"You are bleeding."
His hands moved to inspect her again. More carefully this time. Looking for cuts, Scratches, Bites, anything.
"Where is the wound?"
Pierrot looked ready to cry.
His shoulders slumped and his eyes were huge.
"That is how blood works."
She finally put a hand over her mouth.
Trying not to laugh.
He looked so serious.
So worried.
So utterly lost.
"Pfftâ"
His expression immediately soured.
"Do not laugh."
That only made it worse.
She laughed harder.
Pierrot crossed his arms.
"I am worried."
"I know."
"You are bleeding."
"I know."
"Then why are you laughing?"
She finally managed to calm herself enough to speak.
"I'm on my period."
The words clearly meant absolutely nothing to him.
"A what?"
"A period."
He continued staring.
"...What is a period?"
Now it was her turn to blink.
"Wait."
Pierrot frowned.
"What?"
"You don't know what a period is?"
His confusion deepened.
"No."
"Oh."
She suddenly understood everything.The bandaids.
The concern.
The monthly investigations.
She finally took pity on him.
"Okay. A period is when women bleed."
Pierrot nodded slowly.
Following along.
"So there is a wound."
"No."
"No?"
"No."
His confusion returned instantly.
"Then where does the blood come from?"
"..."
"Where?"
"...My vagina."
The room somehow became quieter.
His eyes widened.
Then widened further.
Then somehow widened even more.
"Your what?"
"My vagina."
Pierrot looked horrified.
Absolutely horrified.
Women...Bled...From there?
"Oh."His voice was tiny.
"Oh, God."
She immediately started laughing again.
Pierrot wasn't listening anymore.
His entire worldview had just shattered.
"Every month?"
"Yep."
He sat down.
Slowly.
"What kind of cruel design is that?"
She snorted.
"I don't know."
He buried his face in his hands.
Then another thought struck him.
His head immediately shot up.
"Does it hurt?"
She shrugged.
"Not really."
Relief flooded his face.
Then she continued.
"The bleeding doesn't."
His relief vanished.
"The cramps do."
Pierrot's expression darkened.
"The what?"
"Cramps."
"What are cramps?"
She pointed vaguely at her stomach."Feels like my organs are trying to kill me sometimes."
Pierrot stared at her.
Then slowly looked toward the ceiling.
As if searching for whoever designed humanity.
He looked deeply disappointed in them.
"That is stupid."
She laughed.
"A lot of women agree with you."
"It is extremely stupid."
He stood abruptly.
Determination replacing panic.
She immediately recognized that look.
"Pierrot."
"What?"
"Don't."
"I have not done anything."
"You're planning something."
"I am not."
"You are."
"I am merely going to acquire things. "
His expression became deadly serious.
"Blankets."
She sighed.
"Babeâ"
"Tea."
"Love-."
"Medicine."
"Pierrot."
"Perhaps soup."
She groaned.
Meanwhile Pierrot was already moving toward the door.
Muttering to himself.
Still horrified.
Still offended on behalf of every woman in existence.
"Every month," he whispered.
Shaking his head.
"That is ridiculous."
-----------
Naturally, there was only one thing to do.
Research....
The computer glowed ominously in the dim living room.
Pierrot sat in front of it with the intensity of a scholar deciphering an ancient prophecy.
Technology was...Confusing.
Very confusing.
His claw hovered uncertainly above the keyboard.
"..."
One tap.
"H."
He squinted.
Another tap.
"O."
"..."
Backspace.
Wrong letter.
Growling quietly under his breath, he continued pecking at the keyboard one painfully slow key at a time.
He leaned back.
"P...period."
Success.
The search results exploded across the screen.
His eyes widened. There were... hundreds. Thousands.
He clicked the first one.
Then another.
His face cycled through every emotion imaginable.
"...Cramps can be severe..."
His brow furrowed.
"...Fatigue..."
He frowned harder.
"...Mood swings..."
His horns drooped.
"...Iron loss..."
He sat up straighter.
Iron.
She loses blood. Blood contains iron. She needs more iron.
She'd been doing this...Alone...Before she met him.
The thought made something ache inside his chest.
He hated it.
He hated imagining her curled up somewhere hurting without someone there to take care of her.
"...No."
He quietly folded the paper.
"Not anymore."
-------
By the time she returned from work, the apartment smelled incredible.
She blinked as soon as she stepped inside.
"...Pierrot?"
He poked his head around the corner.His eyes immediately lit up.
"You're home.
She smiled, then she noticed...
"...Are you wearing an apron?"
Pierrot looked down.
"...Perhaps."
It looked almost comically domestic on someone as monstrous as him.
He'd somehow managed to get flour across one cheek.
She covered her mouth to hide a grin.
"It suits you."
His ears twitched happily.
"I cooked."
"You... cooked?"
"I researched."
"...Should I be worried?"
"No."
He sounded almost offended.
"I followed instructions precisely."
He ushered her toward the dining room with surprising confidence.
The table was covered with food.
She stared.
"...Pierrot."
"I read that iron is important."
"You..."
"I also prepared a bath."
She looked back at him.
He looked so...Proud.
Like a child presenting a drawing to their parent.
She crossed the room and wrapped both arms around him.
Pierrot immediately melted.
His arms carefully circled her waist.
"...Did I do well?"
She buried her face against his chest.
"You did amazing."
He practically purred
-------
The bath had been perfect.
Warm.
Relaxing.
Comfortable.
Though...She couldn't help noticing Pierrot pacing outside the bathroom door every few minutes.
"You okay?"
"...Yes."
"...Are you hovering?"
"No.....I am guarding."
She laughed.
"I don't need guarding while I bathe."
"...You are vulnerable."
"I'm fine."
"..."
"..."
"...May I come in?"
She snorted.
"No."
"...Why?"
She laughed harder.
"Because I want five minutes to myself"
"...Very well."
She could practically hear the pout in his footsteps as he wandered away
....
She emerged from the bathroom...
Only to find Pierrot waiting with a bowl.
"...Open."
She laughed.
"Really?"
"You require nutrients."
"I'm capable of feeding myself."
"I know."
"..."
"...Open."
She rolled her eyes.
"...Fine."
He smiled.
The spoon carefully lifted toward her lips.
"There."
She accepted the bite.
He watched with intense concentration until she swallowed.
"Good."
Another spoonful.
"So..."
His voice was gentle.
"...How was work?"
She smiled.
"It was normal."
He continued feeding her between conversations, occasionally reminding her to drink her tea.
Every tiny thing she'd mentioned during his research...He was following. Exactly. Without missing a step.
By the end of dinner...She'd never felt more cared for in her life....
"Lay down."
She looked over her shoulder.
"Hm?"
"On your stomach."
"...Why?"
"I researched."
She laughed then flopped dramatically onto the bed.
Pierrot climbed on beside her.
His large hands hovered uncertainly above her lower back.
"...If this hurts...Tell me immediately."
"I will."
He pressed gently.
She let out a quiet sigh.
"...Oh."
His ears perked.
"Good?"
"...Really good."
Relief washed over him.
Slowly...Carefully...His thumbs worked across the tense muscles in her back.
He wasn't rushing.
He could actually feel the tension slowly melting beneath his hands.
"There..."
He murmured quietly.
"Relax."
She practically melted into the mattress.
"...You're unfairly good at this."
"I researched."
She laughed into the pillow.
"I can tell."
He smiled to himself.
Research was wonderful. Research made her happy.
He approved of research.
When he'd finished, she rolled onto her back with a sleepy little yawn.
Pierrot immediately climbed into bed beside her.
Without a word...She curled against him.
Like she'd done a thousand times before.
His arms surrounded her instinctively.
One hand settled gently over her lower stomach.
Remembering another article...He rubbed slow, careful circles through the fabric of her shirt.
"...Better?"
"Mhm..."
"So this helps?"
"...Mhm..."
He felt ridiculously accomplished.
His chin rested lightly against the top of her head.
"...I have made a decision."
Her eyes remained closed.
"...Mm?"
"I will do this every month."
She smiled sleepily.
"You don't have to."
"I do."
She laughed quietly.
His hand never stopped those slow circles across her stomach.
After a long moment, he spoke again.
"...Actually..."
"Hm?"
"I could also do these things when you are not bleeding."
She opened one eye.
"Oh?"
"I can cook. I can prepare baths. I can massage your back. I can cuddle you."
"Hmm."
"...Daily."
She finally looked up at him.
"...You just want an excuse to pamper me."
He blinked innocently.
"...Perhaps."
She rolled her eyes.
"I knew it."
He kissed the top of her head with surprising tenderness.
"I simply enjoy caring for you."
His voice had grown so quiet she almost missed it.
"...It makes me happy."
She looked up at him.
He wasn't embarrassed. He wasn't teasing. He meant every word. He loved taking care of her.
Not because he thought she couldn't care for herself
...But because every act of service was another way of saying what he still struggled to put into words.
I love you.
I worry about you.
I want you comfortable.
I want you safe.
I want you smiling.
She reached up and gently cupped his cheek.
"...I love you too."
Pierrot's heart nearly stopped.
He leaned into her touch without thinking.
"...Good."
He whispered it almost shyly.
"...Because I intend to keep spoiling you."
She laughed softly.
"I figured."
His tail curled happily around her legs beneath the blankets as she drifted off to sleep, one hand still rubbing gentle circles over her stomach while the other held her securely against his chest.
He listened to her breathing even out.
Only then did he allow himself to relax.
Next month, he'd be ready.
No more suffering alone.
Not while she had him.
--------
Hello!! He might be a little OOC but I don gaf. YALL. if you wanna get your drawing commissions JUST DM ME. I draw pfps, yumiships, character sheets and so much more! If you enjoyed this fic, think about commissioning me
Mc: *sighs* I want... both of them to be happy. If... having him makes Harlequin happy, then... I can wait. I want them to be happy, more than I need to have th-him... myself.
TT: ...*sighs, pats head and let's hand rest on it*
âInhale, exhale.â Became a mantra you never thought would be on repeat going through the last few months. Hands gripped the makeshift sink, smooth porcelain cool against heated skin as you stared at the mirror.
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âInhale, exhale,â Â closing your eyes, body curling forward before pushing off the sink and taking a few steps back. Fingers tugged at the semi new shirt, loose around your belly but tight at the breasts. It draped wide at the neck and hung off the very end of your shoulder, ripped at the neckline tastefully with only the smallest hint of the coins lot between your breasts.
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Breasts. God they havenât stopped growing, slowly but now you feared going up another half cup size. Hitting E would be a nightmare, they were now sitting a perfect DD and you may riot if they went bigger. Your back hurt, your pelvis hurt, you peed every hour, sometimes TWICE an hour. You drank water like sailor drank rum and you had scared Rhys the other day when quite literally inhaling four plates of food. You had snapped teeth and down right growled at the monster man when he teasingly reached for your plate. His eyes had widened, mouth dropping in a small âoâ before playfully growling back.
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The whole situation ended in growling back and forth, switching to softer purrs on Rhys side that instantly calmed you when he placed bigger pieces of meat on your plate. It was a weird wake up call after your stomach was full, realizing the way your emotions and mental state were changing.
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âInhale,â eyes closed head tilting back, deep intake before holding for a few seconds, âexhale.â
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You missed Pierrot.
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Eyes popped open staring vacantly into the mirror. Memories surfaced; first meeting, first date, meeting the family, dinners, sleepovers, the first I love you, him marking you the very first time and the only meaningful permanent one. And then the memory of seeing him wrapped around Columbina; your lips twisted down, brows knitting. Not the only painful memory but definitely the most painful.
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Would he care?
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Your hand smoothed over the soft bump. The tiny flutters of movement made the frown turn into a gentle little smile.
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I hope so.
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But you figured youâd never really know. He seemed to be where he wanted to be. A deep part of you knew you should have at least tried to corner him. You shoved that asshole in the deep recesses of your mind and slammed the door.
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Maybe one day heâll regret it. Maybe someday heâll see you on screen and come running. But probably not any time soon.
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He was already on the move.
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The lights were bright, shining from the best corners of the little camera the tech team set up. Franky had assured everyone they wouldnât appear greasy, pale, or unattractive in any way.
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The team had pulled together some chairs, set waters beside them and put snacks everywhere. Your face had been touched and prodded just the tiniest bit; they all knew you were pregnant, a few closer members commenting on the glow or how tired you looked sometimes.
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Donna sat to your right, Rhys next to her, Sammy to his left. Demetrius took up the only empty chair to your left, and started popping small bits of a protein cookie into his mouth. Your eyes followed every move from his hand to his mouth while he obliviously continued.
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Everyone else wore some form of tank top or loose fitting shirt with fitted or loose leggings. But you had thrown a semi large hoodie, one that had suspiciously gone missing from Pierrotâs blending in clothing box but we donât talk about that. It hung semi loosely at your throat going a few inches down to mid chest, but was large in the waist and sleeves so it engulfed you like a child playing dress up.
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Sammy cleared his throat with a smile, the lights of the circus tent behind your group dimmed as hit enter on his tablet and then he was talking.
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âWelcome back everyone, sorry for the wait!â
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Pierrotâs eyes locked onto your form as soon as the screen came to life. He studied the part in your lips, the tilt of your head. The beautiful tilt to your nose, eyelashes twitching with every movement of your orbs. He was growling before he knew it and every monster in that crowded space with him was suddenly nervous.
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Why is she watching? Her eyes should be on ME. Mine. Mine. Mine. Why?
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He forced his eyes away, forced them to stare at the male who held your attention. Forced himself to try and see what you may see. The darker male was quite handsome; he was more so though, big hands and big arms corded with muscle. The tank he wore a faded grey with some illegible writing. His eyes were a calm soothing brown, lighter than many humans heâd seen, with flecks of an amber honey tone. He wore his hair in many thin uniformed locs, tied back neatly that they swayed the tiniest bit when he moved. Towards the eye level of his hair, it seemed shaved down, Pierrot could begrudgingly understand. It was hot under stage lights, and the male had a decent amount of hair tied back even with half of it shaved off; if he under cut the rest he mustâve been overheating under those hellish rays.
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His hands gripped his own thighs tight, the male on the screen was more than handsome. The curve of his lips, his teeth dull and a blinding white when he opened his mouth to chew some food, his face perfectly symmetrical, human. He growled louder, this male was a danger.
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âShe wants the cookie.â
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There was a scoff of disbelief. A nervous titter. A shocked snort and then many of them laughed.
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Pierrot chuffed at the screen, forced himself to see. It was the damn cookie. She wanted the cookie. Her gaze was locked, watching as each piece was broken off and placed in the males mouth. Her gaze was of hunger, but not the type he feared. She wanted food. Thank Typhon.
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No. Wait. Mate hungry. Perhaps pup hungry? No oneâs feeding her. Rage was hot, stinging his veins. I will cook, I will take her. Bring her back. Make food, make sweets. Fatten up. Keep in bed. Feed and fuck. Over and over till she begged for his seed. Begged him to impregnate her over and over. And he would. Sheâd never leave him again.
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Columbina couldnât help but look you over. She observed your facial expressions, the way your eyes flickered, the way your legs crossed but still your hips tilted back and forth in the plush seat. You couldnât sit still, a nervous tic? Noticed the way your hair fell so silkily to the side when your head tilted to the side.
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You were beautiful. She could admit it. There was something there, she couldnât see it point blank with her eyes but she could feel it. She could see it by the way Pierrotâs eyes refused to leave your face on the screen.
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She stared at the way he stared at you, at the way he hung on every movement. His mouth had parted, his eyes staring up at the view of you on screen in need.
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NEED.
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He needed you. She saw how his hands kept clenching, his leg bounced the more time you didnât talk or look at the camera. The grimace on his face when your attention hadnât left the male to your left. Another very attractive human.
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She didnât really understand it, this supposed love he felt for you. He promised back in their Valley he would be hers. He swore his heart to her. He had changed his entire being to be accepted by her. To be invited into her arms and her bed, not that he ever made it there. Harlequin was the one she pined for and eventually took to. He was danger where Pierrot was sweet. Rough where Pierrot was kind. Harlequin made her earn the right to see his heart, Pierrot just gave her what she asked for.
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Back before the human circus, Harlequin had thought it funny for her to keep dangling herself to Pierrot. He got a thrill of seeing the three horned giant of their group, the strongest of them yearning for even the lightest touch of her hand. She had found it amusing, and a bit unbecoming of a monster of his stature to debase himself so much. Truthfully, Pierrotâs place in the hierarchy of their kind could have made him simply point and tell her to drop and spread her legs and she would have no choice but to. It would have been an honor.
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Instead he refused to be as his station dictated and sought to win her hand by being something most of their kind had no use for. Their world was not kind. Softness could get you killed in the wrong areas. And yet Pierrot thought that was what she wanted. Had some belief that, she was SOFT, some kind of weak needy monsteress. She was physically weak yes, but she knew how to use her whims thank you. And it was, it was nice for a time. But it got so terribly boring. His shy blushes, the way he would do everything and anything she asked all the while behind his back she and Harlequin would fuck into whatever the bigger monster brought. A dress? Harlequin would wipe their release on it, soil it with his scent. Blankets of finer quality than many in their world could afford? Harlequin would drive deep into her for hours until their fucked out scent made her have to burn it. Hair accessories? Harlequin would fuck her face and man handle her with the ornaments to keep her gagging.
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Yes, she chose Harlequin back then. And now he seemed to not even want her.
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But watching Pierrot watch this woman the way he used to watch her.
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The jealousy rose in her chest once more. Because he was no longer hers. He never was. This woman had brought something into him, awoken him. The real him. He was still kind, but more relaxed than before. It wasnât quite as forced like when he was attempting to charm her back from their early days. And then he started getting antsy, irritated. She could tell so many times he wanted to snap at her, caught the way his eyes narrowed and how his mouth became stuck in a grim line.
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Mind, this human suit they each wore, was thinner than his real form. But she admitted the way his shoulders filled out, his body showed the lean muscle of his arms, legs and back. He was so much more attractive than Harlequin now. And she had thought Harlequin wouldnât mind going back to their old habits, but maybe this time Pierrot could join them. After all he seemed more in tune with his true self. And it was positively delicious.
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But she had been knocked away at every turn. She had begun to feel the various levels of disgust her pack began to fester towards her. The anger. Bil had watched her with a critical eye multiple times before he started distracting her from bothering Pierrot. Jester would click his tongue with a brow deeply arched, shake his head and immediately send her on her way when he came across her trying to act sweet and entice the silver haired monster. Doctor would simply step between them and pull her away for experiments, because how was she back. But Harlequin, her mate. The one who ripped her neck apart at the human circus, he barely looked at her. And when he did it was with a stoic glance.
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Sheâd tried, Typhon she tried to just talk to him. But the more he seemed uninterested the harder she went at Pierrot. Partly to get a reaction from her mate and partly because she was intrigued by the changes of the stronger monster. And he strong, she saw him lift the camper home he traveled in; alone now, out of the mud it was stuck in and walk it across the field to more level ground. Her teeth bit into the juicy part of her lip, exquisite.Â
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But he way he watched that human woman. With want. With need. With love so deep in his eyes it honestly touched a piece of her she didnt want to acknowledge was missing even in the past. But there was also a darkness in him too. Something that made her inner beast tremble.
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Sheâd never be able to touch his heart again, and watching how his frame trembled. The way his arms and shoulders flexed with restraint. She was grateful Harlequin was sat next to him, even if it hurt her that her mate was ignoring her. Even though it made her pause at their closeness. Whatever had happened between them in the past six or so months had obviously bridged the fall out from their time wooing her.Â
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 Fuchsia eyes glanced back up at the screen.Â
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No she'd never touch his heart again. He was a different monster now, but maybe she could learn to be friends with him instead.
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"!!"
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"-!!"
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Your gaze snapped to Rhys. His smile was one of amusement, the bright blue of his eyes, shining in the glow of the ring lights. The glow made his flesh a warm yellow; healthy and golden. The man could play Apollo if they ever made a stage show for Greek mythology. The dirty blonde of his hair shook as he shifted towards you, shaggy and falling over his ears in soft curls. He raised his brows, quickly up and down, shoulders shaking with muffled laughter.
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You're eyes snapped to the lens, back to Rhys, jumping between them and Donna before you shifted quickly in your chair to face more towards the camera. Legs tucked back, ankles crossing delicately as tour hands smoothed along your thighs and a sweet smile tilted your lips.
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"Whooops, sorry yall didnât mean to zone out." Your shoulders hunched as you tilted towards Donna, head sloping so your cheek hit the shoulder. "Nice to meet you! Thanks for coming back and welcome to Cirque de La Lune, hopefully many of you new comers have gotten a little looksie into our cast and watched some of our videos! As before, please join our chat so we can answer any questions you may have. We-"
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"Keep it PG-13!!" Demetrius piped up, his voice a deep timbre that rolled along the skin. His voice was smooth, deep and would've been a perfect 18+Â Book Tok reader. "Violators will be screenshot, banned and put on blast. Do not push it."
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Donna's lazy look split into a roguish grin, the pretty cupid bow of her sultry lips breaking open to give the flash of white teeth. She had natural fangs, and the pointed tips digging into the soft looking flesh. Her eyes a deep dark brown, almost black; paired with her stylishly styled messy space buns, the look on her face made her look fierce. Dangerous. Her body laid back against the fabric of the chair, one leg kicked out, the other tucked into the rung of her seat. Donnas tanned arm was flung around the back of her own seat, with her other resting along the curve of her slouched stomach. If you didnât know what to look for she'd look like an ordinary woman, just a backdrop; beautiful yes, but not someone your eyes stray to more than once unless your attention is already on her. Her arms were muscled, hidden as they were, but any clench of the shoulder or hand gave it away. She had strength backing her up, with the face a starlet from the 60's. Rosy lips, big brown eyes, a Grecian nose, she shouldâve turned heads, but the monstress knew how to melt into the background.
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The jersey tank on her body shifted when she leaned further back, "We arenât kidding. This is a family friendly live." Her voice was smooth, a slight husky undertone that could make your thighs clench if she looked at you and spoke with a deeper meaning.
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The chat box scrolled by, agreements filtering through. Enthusiastic hellos from around the country, and a few from around the world. Laughing emojiâs, waving, and the questions started rolling through.Â
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"TFUSHI! I see you hiding in there," you had sat up exuberantly, hands waving at the camera with a big grin across your face. "Hello!"
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He loved your smile. He even loved it when it wasnât directed at himself. Pierrot sat forward, elbows bracing on his knees. He watched the chat scroll at the bottom of the feed, so many crazy names passing through, questions, greetings, exclamations of love and compliments. So many compliments. They commented on your healthy looking skin, the clothing the men wore, Donnas hair. Some words pledged undying loyalty to the taller woman, that had her quirking her brow with a closed lipped smirk. But Pierrotâs eyes were only on you. On the beautiful smile he adored with every fiber of his being. He looked at your eyes again, tired but bright with joy.Â
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"Why am I in a sweater? Iâm cold! You may not realize this but these tents get awfully cold at night, the thing that warms them up the most is actually body heat from when all of you visitors come in for the show. We have acs specifically for when the shows are going on so it doesnât heat up too bad. But no heater, so its a sweater for me." He watched your thumbs point to both sides, "Cept these weirdos. They run hot 24/7."
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"Weirdos are where its at baby," he heard the low pitch slide in from Demetrius.
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"Freak of nature present," Donna added idly.Â
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"Present," Rhys added while looking at the camera with a half shrug and smile.
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"Youâre all weird," Sammy the other human added. He took wore a long sleeve shirt, though it was a compression one, all black. Baggy joggers sat on his hips, one leg crossed over the other at the ankle. "Its freezing right now." He added even more, petulant but a smile on his face.Â
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Pierrot supposed he was another attractive human male, pale skin, dark brown hair cut short on the sides but pushed back in a fluffy puff on the top. Shorter than Harlequins hair for sure, but one piece fell on his forehead in a curl that swayed with every move. His eyes were a light brown, set in a tired look at the camera. Lips full, and downturns slightly at the corner. The man looked like heâd rather be anywhere else, but not because he didnât enjoy his troupe, but he looked honest to God exhausted.
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"..." the males eyes narrowed, and smacked his lips, "Tch, yeah Iâm exhausted. I donât sleep much. Night owl that struggles with insomnia over here."Â
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Multiple sorries filled the chat box, with omg me too! Well wishes, and other half hearted comments. Pierrot wasnât all that interested.
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Donnas voice slipped in, and he noticed how Harlequins body clenched in response. "How do we live? Do you mean where do we stay while traveling, setting up, or on our off time?" He watched as she paused reading the chat box, her eyes narrowing in focus. "Ah."
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"Some of us rent hotel rooms, others travel behind with caravans. Some of us stay in areas of the circus during down time. Really depends."
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"Usually its a roomie situation," you added in. "Saves money, plus easier bunking with a friend than alone."
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The other woman threw an arm around your shoulder, certainly more animated now. Pierrot watched how you leaned into it with a grin, "She's my bunkmate." The woman added in, "Has been since she got here. Sometimes we get another one but its usually just us. We share a room." Her eyes narrowed playfully at the camera, hand moving from casually hanging over your shoulder to cup your side. And damn it, Pierrot felt his hackles rising even though he knew it wasnât what it seemed. "A bed too sometimes."
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His hand punched the table in front of him and Jesters hissed his anger. Probably some antique, but the silver haired monster gave no fucks. The mere insinuation was enough to piss him off. He knew it wasnât what it seemed, knew it was a familial bonds but the thought that someone else was holding you at night. Could touch you at night. He'd rip her to shreds.
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But you laughed, even though your cheeks flushed a soft pretty red. "Its a cost cutting measure, depending on city. But there's usually groups from 2 to as many as 5. Las-"
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"Last time we bunked with Maggie, single bed. And this one is a cuddler," the ravenette teased, "strong too. Didn't let me get up for the gym because Mags is an icicle. Almost tore my arm off trying to go to the gym."
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Pierrot watched your face flush even deeper as chuckles broke out among your group (and even his), traveling down the slope of your neck and highlighting your chest. Still so easily embarrassed, he wanted to run his lips and teeth along that warm skin. Test the soft flesh and remark you, neck, shoulder, breast. Anywhere that made your pretty little self fidget and blush. But first, his eyes zeroed in on the friendly hand cupping your side. He needed to break her arm.
Â
"ANYWAYS," you laughed out, nudging Donna playfully, "Its actually my turn tomorrow for the Get Ready with Me part of our Live. And Tuesday!" You gestured to the man next to you, "Demetrius will be next!"
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"And Rhys," Sammy threw in with a small smirk.
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Demetrius smiled, huge and happy while Rhys blushed the tiniest bit. "Tuesday morning at 4 am." He laughed a bit, responding to the comments on why so early. What does his usual schedule follow? Whatâs his work out routine?Â
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Pierrot listened with half an ear as both Rhys and Demetrius tag teamed the comments. Neither cut each other off, joked particularly well and came off way more sociable than the others in the group. He watched you though, watched how you reached down and brought up a small container of berry mix. How you quietly whispered to Donna, but paid attention to the two men talking with a smile. The teasing stream of juice sliding down the corner of your mouth, quick hands passing fruit to the others.
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The Live went on for almost an hour. Questions of how old are you, what made you interested in this art form? How many years of practice for certain tricks, again whatâs the workout routine but this time asked individually for Donna, Rhys, Demetrius and even Sammy. You had piped up a, 'What about me?!' That had the chat spamming some messages of how they only wanted the leg routine from you cause the ASS was THICK.Â
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Still, the hour came to a close, Sammy was going over the next places to visit and plans for the next show. And as you stared at the chat box, you noticed more questions aimed at you specifically. Some a little invasive but all with a tad bit of concern. Glancing at Demetrius who gave a subtle nod; lips parted as you reminded yourself. 'Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale.'
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"I want to thank you all for the concern, for support. I cant express how much it means to us, to what we feel when we work on these shows to share with you. I donât mind answering a few of the questions going through chat at the moment as a lot will become noticeable." Handing the container to Donna, you shuffled forward out of your chair, Demetrius holding a hand out as if to steady you in case balance became hard.Â
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Your hands smoothed along the back of your hoodie, eyes closing in happiness before they moved around to just below your breasts and then followed the cute little curve of your belly. "I am in fact pregnant! And look i finally got the curve!" You turned slightly, body angling to show the sweet little bump now growing out. Hands cradled the top and bottom of that cite little belly; the smile was happier than ever eyes closed and just basking. Comments flew by.Â
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tfushi1030:Â I knew you were a mama. Just had that glow.
Harper6738: OMG CONGRATULATIONS!!!
Wisteriaviolet90: You danced your ass off. Pregnant?! GURL
EddieRiver: how far along?
Trulyurs69: your training videos? Oooo is that why you started going lower?Â
tfushi1030: where's the lucky guy mamas
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You had no idea a bomb was going off.
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The deep purple chaise lounger Harlequin and Pierrot had been shading was flipped over. A folding screen had the ornate paper torn apart, the hinges missing. The single lounger Columbina had been sitting on was broken right in the middle, stuffing and wood falling from the velvet lining. The single seats the others had been resting were flipped or pushed far away as each member wrestled the lithe monster to the ground. Because now it was confirmed. Now they could see. You were 100% pregnant and Pierrot was freaking the fuck out.
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And you were completely oblivious to the bomb dropping quite literally in he center of Jesters tent.Â
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"The father? Um," you sat kind of perched on your seat, not quite engulfed anymore. "Well he doesnât know." You paused to read the comments, "I donât mind sharing. If I donât want to talk about a specific question ill say so. Not to worry! But no he doesnât know. I left, after he didnât come home for a month. Among other things."
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The comments flew past faster. And the monsters of Freak circus worked even harder to control the raging beast you unintentionally released. A monster was without his mate. A mated monster was without his now very obviously pregnant mate. Things were breaking, Jester was cursing, Doctor was sweating. This is exactly what he feared would happen. Scratches, bites, gouging claws, they had to take some hits and others they were lucky to dodge. And you were oblivious to the Monster you unleashed.
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"Yeah, it was a month. I donât really want to go into more detail, but im here now. I met Rhys and everyone," Columbina watched your face now. She saw the shadow of agony pass over your face and settle in those half closes eyes, heard the slight tremble in your voice. "I hope he's happy. That's all I ever want for him."
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You thought Pierrot didnt want you. She made you think he didnt want you anymore, terror crawled up her throat. Her eyes cut towards the thrashing monster held down, barely, by the others. His eyes were pinpricks, mouth open in curses, growling rage. He hadn't made the connection yet, she prayed he never did. Harlequin killed her the first time, Pierrot could be her second final death.Â
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Sammy scoffed, but stayed silent. He, like many of the other members grew angry when the discussion of your joining came up. Rhys smile froze on his face, noticeably fake unlike the previous shining joy. Demetrius rolled his eyes to stare at the ceiling, head tilted to not show his facial expression, but Donna frowned, brows drawn tight. Obvious displeasure shown on her face.
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"Six months," she cut in, answering how far along in trimester while her right arm slides forth to place her hand along the belly. "Make sure to join us during the next five performances as after those she'll be on break."
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Demetrius hopped in, with the help of Rhys and Sammy. Taking over a little more with a little prompt. The Live continued for a little longer, each person answering basic quest out their act, previous shows. You fiddled with the water you grabbed down by your feet and Donna opened a package of beef jerky for the both of you to munch on.Â
A hand on your shoulder with a quick squeeze, "You did great, only a little nervousness."
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Sammy rolled his eyes picking up the discarded snack wrappers, "They loved all of us. But yeah there were some weirdos that seemed a little too curious about you and the kid. Stay close to one of us when going out."
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"No going anywhere alone," Rhys was quick to agree.
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Not going somewhere alone didnât necessarily matter anymore at the moment though. There was a monster currently dragging his own troupe across Circus grounds, one country away.Â
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Youâre so screwed when he gets his hands on you.
I haven't done line art in years but I really wanted to try again and see if it would help my process. I kinda really like how it turned out...my art style might change lol
Summary: Not many things caught Pierrot off guard, but being carried manages to be one of them.
Quick A/N: This chapter has been requested by 'D1ce_3eater', quick question how did you come up with your username? That's a cool username! Anyways, thank you for requesting me! I was hoping it would be longer, but it came out quite short. But I hope you enjoyed!
Pick Him Up, Bridal Style! (Pierrot/ Strong and Chubby Reader!)
Just another routine for Pierrot, handing out fliers with a permanent smile plastered on his face as people walked past him or took the fliers to crumble it behind his back. Suppressing a sigh, he continues his job as his mind wanders off. âI wonder how my love is doing. I wonder if theyâre getting enough rest.â
As if summoned by the thoughts of you, you sneakily walked up behind him. A smile widening as you heard him gasp as you picked him up bridal style. âMy- My dear!â His face a bright red and his smile trembled with delight.Â
âHey, Pierrot,â you said with a cheeky smile. How you loved seeing him so flustered and shy wherever you picked him up. Especially bridal style. âMy dear, arenât I heavy for you? I donât wish to hurt you. Although I donât mind being carried...âÂ
âYouâre not, besides I like carrying you. Itâs adorable to see you all flustered for me.â Teasing him as he sucked in a breath, biting down on his lip as he silently whimpered. âAre you all finished with the flyer handouts? Wanna hang out at my place?â you asked.Â
Ticket taker wouldnât mind if he were to finish a little early.Â
âMeu amor,â he whispered. Clinging onto you as he pressed his face against the crook of your neck, inhaling the scent of your skin. Sweat, the smell of coffee beans and pastries filled his senses and made his blood pumping. Making his spine shiver as he drowns in it as you carry him. How he wishes moments like these lasted forever. You continued to carry him into your apartment, looking down, he gave you the biggest puppy eyes. Oh, how he may be the death of you with his cuteness. But you donât mind.Â
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The next day after your shift, you see Pierrot waiting for you outside the cafe. Surprising you that he hasnât entered or visited you. âHey, Pierrot! Something wrong?â
He leaned closer to you and whispered to your ear. âMy dear, may I ask that you carry me once more?â
âOh, you want to be carried again? Sure!â Adjusting the strap around your bag, you reached your arms out and carried him again. âHeh, you sure liked being carried. Donât you, Pierrot?â you teased. Giggling when you see his face flush and he hides his face in the crook of your neck.Â
Itâs so cute and funny to see him all shy and flustered. You pushed forward. âIf I knew you liked being carried like a bride to their honeymoon, I would have done it so much sooner.â
Bride.Â
Bride.Â
He looked up to you with enamored eyes. Him? Like a bride? âYou donât possibly mean it, my dear?â
Sticking out your tongue, unaware of the consequences you have set up yourself. âI do!â
âOh- oh,â he said, twirling his hair as his mind ran a mile a minute. Was this a proposal? Did you want to marry him? Oh, why didnât he see this much sooner!? Oh, donât worry, heâll handle it all. You wonât have to lift a finger.Â
âBride,â he whispered. If heâs the bride, then surely youâre the groom arenât you? A small slip of drool went past his lips as he gazed up at you. Finally, marriage.Â
Author's End Note: Ooof, how are you going to clear up the misunderstanding Reader?
I followed because I'm obsessed with TFC Jester's cockwarming fic and would love a part two! Take you're time but I also love all your other writing it's so good!
Thank youuuuu đđđđđ Here it comes !
art by @mokitobear @konknonbi
Jester x F!reader x Pierrot (yeah, i know. Pierrot in a Love Triangle with someone ELSE than Harley?? Shocking)
TW: Pierrot focused chapter, wallowing, You are so over Jester (You are so not over him), You are not 100% innocent in this equation, Pierrot is a puppy for you yet surprisingly emotionnaly mature, mating/mate system, angst(?), you can smell the drama from a mile away
[Part 1đ]
"Who gave you these marks, my Lady?" Pierrot asks, pressing himself to your back as you comb your hair.
You frown and look better into the mirror, pulling on your collar.
Fuck, is that� Did Jester bite you so hard it left a mark?
What aâŠ!
Pierrot circles your shoulders, leaning forward to look at each other through the mirror.
"Who?" He asks again, his tone slightly less innocent.
More impatient.
More on edge.
"No one we need to worry about." You sigh to yourself.
When you said you'd like to be claimed by Jester's bite, you did not think he'd bite so hard it would leave scars behind. What are you looking like now? You can't wear that cute top for your shift at the cafe now!
"It's not important." You grouse, mad again at the purple clown.
"I beg to differ. This isâŠ" He starts before pausing, "Do you know what those marks mean?" He asks with a raised eyebrow like he had a doubt.
"A spoiled night of fun with a cunt. That's all." You almost slam your comb on your dressing table," What else do you want it to mean?"
Pierrot considers you in silence for a moment, gauging your reaction, licking his teeth behind his closed lips.
"Do those scars have a meaning?" You ask, suspicious now, "Should I be worried?"
Did Jester pulled a trick on you?
Pierrot finally smiles with amorous eyes.
"It simply means I need to have a discussion with the 'cunt' in question." He coos.
Huh ho.
For the first time you realize you made a mistake for more than yourself. That stupid night could have more consequences than a broken heart and shattered hopes. You don't think Jester would fight for you, obviously, but he would be forced to protect himself if Pierrot came after himâŠ
But would Pierrot go after Jester? His Leader? His big brother?
You're not sure you want to take that risk, to be honest.
"Was it Harlequin?" He asks lowly, his golden gaze veiled with anger through the mirror.
"âŠYes. It was Harlequin." You lie, but quickly had, "But it is Harlequin's style you know? To hit it and flee right after." You bitterly laugh, "I knew what I was going into with him. I just didn't like how he shooed me out, you know?"
"Do I?"
"He pushed me out without any care, like an idiot. It's Harlequin like we all know and love. I'm over it now, it's in the past."
"Sure." He hums, "I'll just discuss with him about certain⊠Boundaries." He parts from you to head to your balcony, opening the bay window
"Pierrot." You call him back sternly, "You won't do that. It's done, it's over. It was a one night stand, that's all. Don't waste your breath for that." You order, before relaxing your expression, "Okay, Pierrot?" You smile at him.
He looks at you, half turned toward you and half turned toward the window, irritation and contradiction on his expression. He is clearly questioning if he should listen to you.
"Pierrot." You insist, "It's not worth it."
Pierrot and Harlequin fighting and bickering is far less suspicious than Pierrot and Jester, but you can't have the red clown go after the green one for a lie. That would blew out your cover.
And Harlequin doesn't deserve to bare your mistake with the Jester. That's unfair.
You'll tell the truth to Pierrot, eventually.
EventuallyâŠ
Later. You will tell him later.
You see emotions fly on his face before it settles for mild-annoyance. If his Lady's orders him, what can he do?
"Fine." He grumbles, before turning his heels fully toward you to come back to you.
He leans forward again, kisses you cheek gently and flees the scene blushing.
You fixate the bay window where he just went trough, before facing yourself in your mirror.
You're a bitch, girl. A real oneâŠ
You sigh, resting your head on the cold wood.
"What am I even doing�"
You'll need to speak to Ticket Taker tooâŠ
______
You arrive at the circus after your shift at the cafe tired out and tense. You actually have no clue what you will do if you cross paths with Jester. He, he would probably regally ignore you, but will you be able to give him the same attitude? Or will you explode in tears and anger at his face?
You sigh, holding on to your purse. You're in a mess. A real, deep mess.
You almost hit into a man but you snap out of it just in time.
"OhâŠ! BilâŠ"
"It is Ticket Taker to you, visitor. Do you have a ticket?"
You refrain from giving him an attitude, he must be disappointed enough in Jester and you for the other night.
Good question, do you have a ticket? Pierrot must have left one in your purse, for sure.
Yes. He did.
"A red one again? Interesting." The topper monster looks at it without moving, his hands clasped behind his back.
"Why?" You frown at him, stressing bullet.
"I expected a different color." He contemptibly answers.
Wonderful⊠You have to deal with Jester, Pierrot and Ticket Taker then.
"Yeah, about that, plea-"
"I do not intend to say anything, visitor." He cuts you, stamping your ticket.
"Why?" You can't help but ask.
"I do not want to embarrass Jester more than he already feels."
Yeah⊠Logical answer for them. You're not surprised, and too weary to be mad at this response.
"I seeâŠ" You readjust your purse on your shoulder, "Thank you⊠For whatever my gratitude is worth to you."
"I do not do it for you, visitor." He straightens his posture, looking down on you from his height, "Keep your distance with the Jester, or I will feel forced to act in his best interest."
You gulp, your hand gripping the strap of your bag tight.
"Dutifully noted⊠Can I pass?"
He theatrically steps aside, gesturing to the wide entrance with a false plastic smile.
"Welcome, Visitor. May your stay be a wonderful illusion."
You nod weakly, walking away quickly. You never thought too much about Ticket Taker, but when he wants it, he can give you real creeps. You sigh, head low despite the bright lights, the confectioneries stalls and the joyous music. You are clearly a stain on that happy canvas, surrounded by those wide smiles and the happy families.
And the couplesâŠ
You sit down in one of the dining area and take out your phone, pretending to be busy while observing others. You see a gay couple sitting on the other table, sharing some fries, laughing together. One has a stain of sauce on his cheek and his man gently wipes it with his thumb and a cheeky gaze, tilting his lover's head to share a kiss.
You look away before their lips meet, feeling like you should not spy on that moment.
Or is it just that it hurts you inside�
You catch a woman in a vivid red pullover running into the arms of a man, bracing himself for the impact, spinning with her in his arms. They squeeze each other tight, almost bumping into other people, but nothing seems to matter more than their happiness right now.
You lower your gaze on your screen, your head resting on your palm.
You are pathetic. Simply pathetic.
What did you hope would happen with the Jester exactly? You sleep together once, then, magic, you discover you are meant for each other? You become inseparable and official? He presents your formally to his circus family as his girlfriend and you live in his tent from now on? Or he comes living with you in your apartment, leaving the circus life behind and moving on with you onto new life goals as a fresh new couple? Find a stable 9-to-5, get engaged, a kid and a dog?
Seriously? You are that deluded about yourself that you imagined, for just a second, that Jester would put his hate for human aside for you? That he would see this night as anything else than a mistake on his part?
Wow. Really?
You slouch on the wooden table with the longest exhale you had for months.
"Wake up, girl. That is not a thingâŠ"
A notification makes you rise your head again. It's your period tracker, informing you that your period are estimated for next week.
Oh Great! So you are mourning a fantasized relationship, have to suffer through the most terrible humiliation you ever had to endure yet, and you are hormonal?
Just great!
Terrific, even.
You slam your head back onto the table with an agonizing rale.
You almost jump out of your skin when a hand grabs your shoulder gently.
"My Lady?"
"AhâŠ! Pierrot! You scared meâŠ" You readjust your posture immediately, caressing a strand of hair behind your ear in embarrassment.
"Is everything alright?" He asks, concerned, lowering himself on one knee.
"Yes! Yes, everything is alright." Your laugh is too high to be genuine.
"Are you sure?" He insists softly, his thumb caressing your shoulder, "You can tell me anything."
Oh Pierrot.
Sweet, sweet PierrotâŠ
Why couldn't you fall for him instead?
"Nah, it's not worth your time. I'm just tired after work, you know how it is." You smile, praying for it to also reach your eyes.
He contemplates you silently, blinking once, before his mouth stretches in an affable smile.
"Do not exert yourself, my Lady."
"I won't, pinky promise."
"Did you come for a reason?" He tilts his head, sitting next to you.
Good question.
Why did you even came here for? TT and Doctor merely tolerate you, Harlequin gives you the creeps when he has ideas behind his eyes, and Jester⊠You don't want to see him.
The alternative was wallowing in self-pity and eating ice cream until you gain 5kg and a lot of pimples to perfect your disgraced image. What a perspective⊠Yet it was what you were going for until you realized your feet brought you to the Circus instinctively.
"I⊠Came for you, of course." You keep your smile despite your weariness, "For who else would I be here?"
He seems to tense up, fidgeting his fingers as the white of his face gets a deep shade of red.
"R-really, my Lady?" He asks with a wide grin, "If I knew, I would have organized my best act for tonight."
"Ah ah. All your acts are great, Pierrot, worry not." You tell him, without feeling the need to lie.
He squeals on his sit.
"Really? You think so, my Lady?"
"Yes. At least the one or two I saw where entertaining." An image of the woman, chained to the plank, a knife prop at her head with the false blood flashes into your mind, disturbing you for a second "At least I⊠I think they were?"
He hops up and down on his seat, blushing madly.
At least he likes you.
At leastâŠ
"Do you want to eat something? It's on me, we didn't spik- I mean, it is our specialties tonight!" He asks.
"Oh⊠Why not? You don't have another act tonight?" You worry.
You can' have Pierrot cancel his show for you, or Jester or Bil will definitely come for youâŠ
"This is my shortest night. My last performance just ended, worry not! I have all the night for you!" He explains, elated.
This is wrong.
This is bad. Very bad. But⊠But you could use a pick me up, tonight.
"Thank you, Pierrot. It would be with great pleasure."
His smiles widens and he grabs your hand, escorting you the nearest stall for you to pick a snack.
________________
"And then, I smashed his face into the pie!" He finish his retelling with great bravado.
You hold your rib, laughing.
You spent the entire night together, eating snacks, talking, joking, laughing. You sneaked out of the circus to watch the stars on a rooftop, soaked your feet in the sea nearby, lost your breath with stupid games. You just returned before his absence becomes suspicious, sharing a soft-serve each on an outside stage.
It was a pleasant evening. Relaxing and relieving.
You needed a night or simple fun and bounding, and Pierrot proved himself pretty⊠Laid back, comparing to his usual self. He was smiling madly, giggling, but kept himself in check, like he couldn't believe it was true.
Or that's what you assume, at last. You know he is besotted with you or something, but its crazy for you to think that you have this type of effect on other.
Especially after last night, if that's not proof enough.
But for now, you are willing to take what you can.
"Jesus, you are awful to each other!" You wipe a tear off the corner of your eye.
"This how we areâŠ" Pierrot licks his ice cream, his feet dangling in the void of the stage, "It's⊠Complicated. Harlequin and I, we⊠Have history together. Things that neither of us can took back. Things that are here to stayâŠ" He sighs, his smile diminishing.
Your laugh dies down.
"You regret?"
"I regret a lot of things. Things that could have gone better. Or could have been." He admits, "Words where thrown, and mistakes where made and now... Now we have to learn to live together again, with our regrets."
You look at him silently, how he gazes up at the moon. His expression is saddened, but also strangely⊠Peaceful.
"I⊠am sorry, Pierrot."
"What for?" He turns to you with a hint of pain in the eyes, mixed with tenderness, "None of this is your fault."
Your mouth stretches in a thin line, embarrassed and out of place.
You're disgusting, using him like that. To ease your own pain. To forget your own crushed hopes.
"I am just sorry, that's all." You look away to the ground, "What you must have gone through must not have been fun, and yet⊠Yet you keep hope. You try to go forward, not like some I won't name."
Not like you.
Not like JesterâŠ
"Thank you, (M/C). I appreciate the thought." He grins.
He grins softly. Not like one of those mad grin he used to give you at the beginning, this is so much more⊠Genuine and gentle.
Too genuineâŠ
"Woawoawow! Hold on! You use my name, now?" You playfully mock, "We are official or something?"
His smiles stretches ever so slightly.
"No. But maybe we are heading to that, slowly." He whispers with surprising little teasing or eagerness like he usually do.
He is calm and at peace, under the star with his soft-serve and you. His hand barely brushes yours, his pinky sneakily coming to lock with yours.
Like a little secret.
You gulp, trying to appear focused on your melting ice cream to not let appear your turmoil on your face.
Because you were absolutely correct earlier. Why did you not fall for Pierrot, instead of Jester?
Pierrot is here and willing, he helped you when you needed, and even if you think he was a bit suffocating in his advances, at least he cares for you. Since the beginning.
Not like the Jester.
Your relationship start with Pierrot was⊠Well, it was shaky at best, but it is build on genuine interest on his part, and contempt on yours.
Contempt for something you did not realize the true value of. Instead you focused on the ring leader. The puppeteer of the show. The brain-washer who in turns, only showed contempt to you in return.
And you could not help but run after him like a mad dog after a car.
You huff out a chuckle.
"I'm really a pushoverâŠ" You finally admit out loud, "And I am blind to what matters."
"Maybe we are more alike than we first imagined, my Lady." He muses, unhooking his pinky to sneakily cover your hand with his.
So slowly and gently, you can't refuse him.
Do you even want to?
"Maybe you are more correct than what I wanted to admit, PierrotâŠ" You raise your gaze to the moon.
You both remain silent, sitting next to each other, eyes on the star, hand in hand, shoulders brushing.
It is time to be more like Pierrot, mourn what could have been, but was never true, and focus on what is real. So you lay your head on his shoulder. He gasps, tensing up, but leaves you be.
"My-my Lady?" He asks with a trembling voice, full of contradicting emotion.
"Shhhhhhh⊠Let's enjoy the night. Together." You murmur back.
He intertwine your fingers together, making sure his claws don't slash your skin and keep you close to him. Soon enough, a low purr starts, rumbling all the way up his throat.
"I am happy, my Lady." He says, "Like I wasn't for a long time."
"Good. I am too." You realize as you say it.
Maybe this is the start of something sweet. Of something healthy, at last⊠And not you idolizing your partner like a psycho and a maso. Maybe with sweet Pierrot, things will be better for everyone.
He has quite a lot of things you usually likes in a man.
Why not, after all?
You hear him gulp.
"Could I⊠Bite you too?" He asks out of the blue.
"What?" You frown at him.
"I want to cover the bite you received⊠If you allow me, my Lady."
You look at him without blinking.
And snort.
What is it with this circus and biting?
"Is that foreplay for monsters?" You tease.
He flushes deeply.
"It's, huh⊠Is it not foreplay for humans too?" He counters.
"It was not directed atâŠ! I didn't mean toâŠ!" He apologizes profusely, fidgeting his hands in the air, before sighing, defeated, "I'm sorry, my Lady, I did not want to scare you⊠It was not against you."
You grin, raising an eyebrow.
"Do you do that in bed too?" You ask.
He chokes on his breath.
"My Lady?!" He panics, not knowing where to stand with you.
You chuckle.
"Sorry. I'm teasing."Or not, "I'll let you bite me when that one is healed. I can't serve in the cafe with bite marks on both shoulders at the same time, what the patrons would say?" You snort.
He gulps, pursing his lips like he words were burning his tongue but he silences them.
"You are right, my Lady. That would be inappropriate to wear the love marks of both males at the same time." He nods, grinning with his sharp teeth, "Let's wait for the true one to take its place and shine."
"Yeah.Let's be civilized people, for fuck sakes. Who are we? Freaks?" You both laugh, your hands finding each other again.
You wouldn't have guessed that biting was a kink shared between the cold Jester and the sweet Pierrot.
"My Lady?" He coos, "May I⊠Kiss you?"
You pretend to think about it, but you feel fire on your cheek exploding at his question.
You look up at him.
You consider his face as a whole. You let your gaze caress his bangs, meeting his golden eyes melting with fire, traces the line of his absent nose before landing on his lips. You let your gaze lingers purposefully, licking your lips teasingly, making him skip a breath.
And decide you tortured him enough. You close you eyes, leaning closer but you wait from him to cross the gap.
You feel his breath on your lips, guessing his own a mere inch away, ready to claim your mouth and-A growl resonates behind you.
You yelp when Pierrot violently pivots his bust throwing a blade in the dark, his expression so terrible your heart almost skips a beat.
"Leave, Harlequin!" He orders. "Or God helps meâŠ!"
You look behind you. You can't see a thing, yet you did hear a growl. You perk up your ear, and can hear a hitched breath and then steps walking away.
"Was that..?"
"Harlequin, for sure." Pierrot keeps his eyes fixed on the shadows, "He turned around you for so long, and now he can't accept he lost."
"It's ⊠Not a competition, Pierrot. My affection is not a prize to be won." You grab his sleeve gently, inviting the red clown to calm down.
He squints at the blackness before facing you again.
"I am sorry, my Lady. I will make sure he will not bother you ever again."
Sorry, Harlequin, for dragging you into that mess...
"Leave him be, Pierrot." You ease his nerves, "He learned his lesson, I am sure."
He winces, unconvinced. You look at each other, not knowing what to do with yourself anymore.
"It killed the mood, no?" He drops, a hand on the back of his neck.
"Lets just look at the stars together. We will have plenty of occasion to kiss later." You decide, replacing your head on his shoulder.
His purr resumes as he lays his head on yours.
____________________
Ticket Taker makes his round, finding the last lost visitors and indicating them the exit politely, but sternly, before stopping dead in his tracks.
He silently looks at you heading toward the back entrance, at Pierrot's arm, a blissful smile on both of your faces, fingers intertwined.
Without boasting himself, Ticket Taker thinks of himself as a respectful gentleman toward womankind, especially the monstrous one, but also the human kind when the circumstances allows it.
But.
Being naked on Jester's lap one night and leaving hand in hand with Pierrot, 24h hours apart down to the second? He doesn't know if it is impressive or wildly inappropriate.
Either way, he doesn't like that. He doesn't like you.
He invites you to not mingle with one and he founds you with another 5 hours later. This is a whole new type of insolence he might need to work out of you, or you will bring disarray into their close circle.
Seducing 2 of them is too much of a risk for them, even if it was a laps of judgment on Jester's part.
Jester needs to know about that development. They must come up with a plan to get rid of you, before it is too late.
Ticket Taker remains in the shadows, hands clasped in his back, fixated on you both, strolling away.
Isn't it so adorable?
Isn't it absolutely revolting?
Like you could feel his burning gaze on the back of your neck, you stop to look around you, unsure. Pierrot releases your hand to circle your shoulders, kissing your hair softly, inviting you to keep going.
You walk away without noticing the blue clown.
He sniffs with disdain and spins on his heels, direction Jester's tent.
This is the most sensitive case he has to deal with yet. They can't survive another Columbina situation, especially not a human one, and certainly not between Pierrot and Jester.
He walks swiftly, orientating himself in the dark like he was born here. And in a minute, he is at his destination. Anyone else would knock on a iron pole nearby to announce their presence, but him and Jester are far past those courtesies, and he enters immediately. He heads toward the bedroom space of the large tent, behind the office space, hidden behind a large curtain when he stops to smell the air, a familiar scent alerting him.
Blood.
Jester's blood.
Moans of pain.
He hurries to the bedroom space, slamming the curtain out of his way with a shout.
"Jester, are you alright?"
He discovers books ravaged on the ground, sheets torn apart, pillows gutted, furniture clawedâŠ
And the corpses of two fools, laying there, inert.
Bil snaps his head toward another whimper and discovers the Jester, slouching on the ground, bare chested and panting, holding his bloody arm.
"JesterâŠ" He hurries to his friend's bedside, kneeling to exanimate the damages, "Did the foolsâŠ?"
He looks at his friend, he is panting, sweating heavily and obviously in pain. His breath is short and whistling, and his eyes are veiled like he was running a fever.
"No." Jester winces, "Worse."
And he throws one of Pierrot's blades to the ground with a hiss.
Bil looks at the shining blade soiled with blood like it was taunting him, flabbergasted.
And then it downs on him. The prior sexual encounter, the aggressive behaviors, the destructive urges, the territorial instincts, the need to hunt⊠And the signs of degrading health.
"You claimed herâŠ" He lets escape, astonished, facing his leader once more, "You claimed her, and she tries to move on from you."
Jester sniggers painfully.
"Say that with more enthusiasm, would you, Bil? I do not feel humiliated enough yet."
"Jester, this is no joking matter." He berates him harshly, "Do you know what that means? This is incredibly dangerous!"
"I am keenly aware, thank you very much." the purple monster hisses again, "I regretted my foolery when my teeth released her flesh. I should have broke her neck, instead."
"Maybe you should have, yes." Ticket Taker agrees reluctantly, "Yet here we areâŠ"
Jester finally turns to his lifelong friend, and if his face is stern, even cold, only his purple eyes communicates his true distress.
"You look at me like waste on the side of the road." He grouses, combing his purple mane of his back with a sweaty hand.
"I look at you like a friend in need of assistance. Get up, I will stitch your arm, and thenâŠ" He pauses, like he is regretting everything that led to that instant, before helping his friend stand up, "Then we will need to discuss our options."
I just finished reading both parts of Shattered Illusions and it was a AMAZING!!! And if itâs okay with you, I wanted to know if you could please do the Circusâs reaction if the Ringleaderâs Child was reincarnated as the MC
â« Hello! Thank you so much for your support, it means a lot! Iâd be happy to share my further thoughts and ideas about this potential AU! (Go read it if you wanna understand this post lol)
â« Though Iâm not sure Iâd ever make a full series version of this, I still have a bunch of ideas Iâd be happy to share! Feel free to use these for your own AUâs, all I ask is that you credit me if you post it! <3
Shattered Illusion AU Premise/Ideas- Long Post!
ââââàšà§ââââ
General: What if the child of the Ringmaster MC was reincarnated into the Present!MC?
â« I imagine itâd be pretty neat if the Present!MC initially has no memories of their past life, though there are still vague impressions of their (your) past existence. Same face, same name, same good-natured curiosity and desire to help.
â« But there are other flickers of the past in this new life, coincidences that are later realized to be echoes of that life all alongâŠ
ââââ
â« You had frequent childhood dreams of bright-eyed monsters, scrawled crayon and marker drawings of dark horned figures that filled your drawers, an inherent interest in all things morbid, mystical, and macabreâŠ
â« You even had claims of having imaginary friends in your youth, shadowy creatures that appear in your dreams. They hate being in their cages, youâd tell your parents. Theyâre very hungry all the time. They donât like talking for too long. Theyâre very tired and not very good at walking.
â« You even used to kneel down in your bedroom as though you were actually talking to these nonexistent friends, exchanging words and phrases that a young child wouldnât normally understand. Youâd brush a hand on your neck as though tending to a wound that wasnât there.
â« It got to the point where your father got concerned that you wouldnât be able to make any normal friends, or that your habits were a sign of possession. You seemed rather convinced that your imaginary companions were actually real. And you had veryâŠunconventional interests, to say the least.
â« But eventually, those strange habits and quirks faded away as you got older, and you interacted with others quite normally, all things considered. Outside of those odd habits (something your mother attributed to all kids being weird in their own ways), you had an uneventful childhood.
â« And like all children, you grew up. Fledged the nest. Went off to establish your own life somewhere else with nothing but your own determination and your parentsâ support.
â« You still had a fascination with all things spooky and morbid. You listened to podcasts about unsolved crimes, garnered all sorts of âweirdâ paraphernalia of your interests, read books and watched documentaries about mysteries both felonious and paranormal. You didnât believe in half the ghost stuff you consumed, but it was interesting nonetheless.
â« You got a job working as a barista in a coffee shop. Carol, your coworker, even shared a couple of your interests! And your boss is a pretty nice guy. Your life was simple, if not a little uneventful. (A blessing, really. But it's human nature to silently long for what you shouldn't have, isn't it?)
â« One day, though, you notice that thereâs a sort of small festival or fair set up in a public park area. Tents are seemingly set up overnight, and there's no shortage of gossip about the new events going on. After a day or so, flyers start to show up everywhereâplastered on the sides of buildings, stapled to telephone poles, handed out to just about anyone who spares the tall performers a glance.
â« It was inevitable that you'd learn what exactly had come to the city. A circus of horrors, one that supposedly wasnât for kids or families. It was admittedly quite interesting, as this circus advertised against what most other circuses and fairs marketed themselves towards.
â« But other people seemed to have an issue with that, evidenced by the way someone had attacked one of the circus workers after only a few days of them being in town. You were walking to work when you saw it: a man beating a jester clad in red to the ground. The small crowd that had formed didn't seem exactly keen on helping him.
â« Naturally, the sight alone fuels you to instantly go against your better instincts to mind your own business, and you intervene. You position yourself between the altercation, refusing to back down. The man eventually walks off, and you help the clown up while offering a bandage.
â« But it was undeniable. His golden eyesâŠthey seemed so familiar. It was almost unsettling.
â« You snap yourself out of your daze, internally scolding yourself for rudely staringânearly gawkingâonly to realize the red-clad clown was doing the same. Did he also feel that strange familiarity? Itâs not like you can just ask him, that would be really weirdâŠ
â« Brushing off that lingering feeling, you politely bid the clown farewell before making your way to work. You try to forget that encounter, those golden eyes paired with that ashen hair. Such a distinct combination, such a distinct-looking person overall, there was no way youâd seen him before.
â« Oh well. It was just a brief interaction, and you likely wouldnât see him again. Better to just move on from that strange encounter.
â« But of course, fate has different plans.
â« You end up meeting the red clown once more, and he introduces himself and even gives you a red ticket to the circus! How kind of him. It's like he knew you were drawn to creepy and eerie things. The tickets to the circus were so expensive (likely to discourage families from attending) and you had resigned yourself to unfortunately missing out on the unique experience.
â« But this gesture was your once in a lifetime chance to attend the performances, and you wouldn't dare question it now. (Even though you really should be questioning certain things at this point like your coworker's absence and why Pierrot seemed so uncannily familiar)
â« Ah. It seems nobody thought to quell your naivety and ravenous curiosity in this life either. But can anyone really blame you?
â« You're excited to learn about this circus of horrors. It was so unconventional, so interesting. You clutched both your ticket and the red paper flower the Pierrot (you ask yourself why he wears jester-like attire if his role is that of a Pierrot's) had gifted to you as a token of appreciation for aiding him earlier that day.
â« The two of you actually have a lovely conversation about things deemed unseen or morbid, about how fear reveals a lot about people. Some people vehemently try to reject and suppress their fears, others are haunted and hollowed by them. And some don't even realize their fears until its too late.
â« You were sure you could have spoken to the Pierrot for much longer, but it was past closing time. After confirming that you would attend his show, you bid him farewell and go back home to your apartment. However, once inside the threshold, you slump against the door.
â« The amount of nostalgia and familiarity you felt while speaking to that red clown was almost nauseating. There was a sinking dread in your heart that infested your lungs. It made you feel short of breath, like you were constantly on edge despite the fact that he didn't pose any threat. He worked at a circus of horrors, but he was rather nice. Weird and perhaps a little creepy at times, sure, but he wasn't intimidating.
â« ...Not that intimidating, anyway.
â« You try not to think about it too much, but it proves to be a daunting task. It's like something is hiding right beneath your nose, some sort of vital yet elusive detail that won't make itself known.
â« That night, you have dreams like the ones from your childhood that you had nearly forgotten. Hushed voices and unnaturally colored eyes and sharp teeth glinting from nonexistent light. You looked down at your hands and saw blood and rust and the veins in your fingers turned sickly black. You awoke in a cold sweat, unsettled and nostalgic for all the wrong reasons...and late for work.
â« The day mostly goes by normally, and you meet the one called the Harlequin on your way to work. He was far more...talkative than his fellow performer. He tries to trade your red ticket for his green one, but you're not even given a chance to consider the thought before Pierrot shows up, golden eyes slitted in a way that made your heart sink to your stomach.
â« That sight remains in your head longer than it should. Kind and large eyes turned malicious, almost animalistic, it was a very jarring and unsettling change in behavior for Pierrot. Granted, you didn't know him that well, but for some reason it felt as though you had known him for ages.
â« You try to brush it off. It's just an act between the two. Isn't it?
â« That dread and sense of foreboding doesn't disappear, especially after learning that Carol was now missing. Some of the excitement you felt about visiting the circus is somewhat dampened by the undeniable tension that had formed in the city ever since it arrived. You don't entirely know what to think.
â« But you had made a promise to use the red ticket. Pierrot had lightly grabbed your arm earlierâfor some reason you braced for him to place his black-gloved hand against your mouthâand eerily asked you to promise him that you'd use it. What else could you do but agree?
â« The Harlequin had also entered your workplace, and it was noticeably odd how much you were seeing these guys in the matter of just barely a couple days. But strangely enough, it feels natural. Even stranger, it feels deeply unsettling at the same time.
â« When night comes and you make your way to the circus threshold, the man in the blue suit elicits yet another involuntary sense of recognition. It was getting a little ridiculous now, how all of the circus workers seemed to be the cause of such sensations. But what is even stranger is the way you notice the black and white-masked man freeze for just a split second upon moving to greet you and take your ticket.
â« But the moment is gone as soon as it came. He recovers from his pause effortlessly, wishing you a good experience in the circus after punching your ticket. You thank him while avoiding eye contact. The ticket in your hands now seems less like an invitation and more like an indictment. Just what had you gotten yourself into?
â« You remain slightly on-edge as you make your way to the green tent, where the Harlequin tells a strange story using puppets made of paper. The figures are all silhouettes, obscured and simplified forms whose names don't matter, only the roles they play.
â« The green clown weaves a story of monsters, men, and angels. Suffering and insatiable hunger and desperation. Your eyes remain fixed on the paper puppets, thoroughly invested in the story. But then the angels just...disappear. Vanished into the moonless night with the wind.
â« Chills creep up your spine every time your eyes land on the stitch-like markings on the backs of the Angels. One was a monster, the other a human. How could either of them be angels sent from above?
â« There's something off about the story. Something missing. You're not sure what that missing piece is, but you feel it deep in your gut in a way that's hard to explain. You know that you've never heard such a story before. Yet still there's that sense of familiarity, of some distant and tiny connection to it.
â« You can't even entirely pay attention to the Harlequin trying to make advances on you after the show just because of the overwhelming feeling that you had heard a voice like his before. Sly and almost serpentine...
â« After the green tent was the red tent, and you watch from the front row as Pierrot dances beneath a spotlight in a way that made you deeply unsettled. His pale ashen hair swayed with his movements, tiny bells on his costume ringing like death knells. The lights above him didn't hide his golden gaze...instead they only exaggerated it.
â« For some reason you expected Pierrot to have a saddened or pained expression on his face as the show went on. Instead the expression on his white mask gradually turned more and more sinister, a sharp smile growing wider as he danced with his own shadow. It made a pit form in your stomach.
â« And then he started throwing those knives at that stage assistant. The crack of the blades hitting and slightly splintering the wooden board the woman was strapped to made you flinch back slightly. They got close. And then closer. And then even closer. And just when you thought he was finished with a third knife...
â« A fourth one went straight for her head, splitting it open.
â« You ran out of the tent after that, your lungs aching for air and your head buzzing with too many thoughts and attempts at rationalization. You were into morbid and creepy things, sure, but even that was too much for you. How did those other people in the crowd not panic like you did?
â« It feels like the entire world is in on some giant joke, like everyone in the world got a script to follow except you. But that obviously couldn't have been a real person who got a knife to her head...just some insanely good practical effects, right?
â« Pierrot came up to you after that, leaning next to your ear and asking how you liked his show. Obviously you told him that it was very realistic, so much so that it gave you chills. He looks happy to hear that, but you can only internally wince.
â« And then he asks if you want to stay at the circus and see more of it, if you want to join him and learn more about the performances. A terribly tempting offer. But you were almost feeling nauseous from what you had seen in his performance, and all the strange familiarity of this circus was starting to make your head hurt.
â« (It doesnât matter what choices you made. Eating drugged circus food, being kidnapped by Pierrot, going home safely and dreaming further of rusted cages and paper-thin lamenting voicesâŠNobody gets to choose their fates, only how fast they reach them.)
â« It all ends with you being even more confused by the circus members. You catch glimpses of what lies behind their masks, the truth of their nature. For some strange reason, the implication of inhuman beasts existing isn't what frightens you. What unsettles you is the fact that it feels so normal, like it was expected to happen. Like you had encountered this all before.
â« But then you run into one of the performers in pink, and her mask falls off. You have to resist the urge to puke when you see your missing coworker standing like a doll, eyes clouded with a purple haze. Carol. She's here, alive...but is she really?
â« You don't realize youâre back in your apartment until youâre standing right next to your bed. It was all just a daze of shock and paralysis ever since seeing Carol like that. You donât even realize youâre holding a red ticket until you drop it to the ground like it was contaminated with something.
â« And then you hear Pierrotâs voice. Itâs distant and muffled, likeâŠ
â« You freeze upon seeing his golden eyes looming over you. That gilded gaze was once looking over you like this in darkness while your vision was fading, telling you to sleep with a hushed and rasping voice, digging black claws into the sides of your head. Those eyes were the only thing you saw as your vision warped and swayed-
â« You don't even realize Pierrot was calling your name with a concerned expression until you suddenly snap out of that daze with a sharp gasp.
â« He backs away, worried that he had hurt or frightened you. You donât know what to say. But you eventually tell him that youâre afraid. So much has happened in just two days, youâve seen things you canât unsee, learned things you canât unlearn.
â« But thereâs only one option left if you want to make it to tomorrow alive and sane. You have to go back to the circus.
â« And so you do. What else can you do but see if the other circus members also resembled the shadows in your dreams? Even now you denied the resemblance of Pierrot and Harlequin to the golden and green-eyed ones in your subconscious.
â« The first place you visit in the circus is the blue tent. You see the same shadows that had always existed in your dreams, hear voices that had once only been heard in your childhood when you played with imaginary friends.
â« You chalked most of it up to the nature of the performance and the overarching narrative the circus seemed to haveâa narrative that you seemed to know so very wellâuntil you encountered the cracked mirror just near the exit.
â« There, in the glass, was your reflection. But not really. You were wearing unfamiliar non-modern clothes. Though there was a large crack over where your eyes would be, you still recognized the figure as being you. There was a wet red splotch on the front of your clothing that only seemed to bloom the longer you stared.
â« You blinked once, and you gasped. There was now a blazing fire behind your reflection, a gaping wound just beneath your chest that exposed your ribcage and entrails. The reflection didnât show the shocked expression you knew you had plastered on your face. Incoherent whispers filled your ears.
â« The stench of bitter smoke and burning wood made your face twitch in disgust, and you turned away from the cracked glass. It was just too much.
â« And towards the end, just when you thought you had gotten through the worst of itâŠ
â« âCome closer.â
â« A set of pink eyes meet your own. You take a few steps towards that mirror towards the end of the mazeâŠ
â« And youâre dragged into the mirror at the end of the hall by dark hands.
â« What you witness is nothing short of horrific. Shadows of beasts and whispers in hoarse voices and a death so gruesome and utterly undeserved it makes you nauseous.
â« And then youâre suddenly seeing through someone elseâs eyes, no longer an onlooker but a participant in this disturbing tale. You canât look away. You canât ignore the screams of pain and the inhuman wails and cries. Itâs all just so overwhelming.
â« When itâs finally over, the pink-eyed reflection in the mirror looks almostâŠhopeful. A jarring sight compared to the macabre story you just witnessed. She thanks you for hearing her story. But her voice is laced with familiarity and fondness that you felt you hadnât earned. You donât know herâŠdo you?
â« You donât get time to process it before you are within the Cyan tent, then the Purple tent. You barely manage to shamble through both of themâwhile getting nearly sick with nostalgia from meeting the Doctor and the Jesterâbefore someone holds you from behind as you try to leave.
â« It makes you remember things that hadnât happened to you. Strong arms holding you from behind while someone else pricked something into your neck, a warm wetness traveling down your collarbone while a stinging burn is seeping into your veins-
â« You nearly yelp, only to realize it was Pierrot who was behind you. He tells you that he loves you for who you are, that he canât bring himself to let you go for even a moment. You canât and donât believe him.
â« And then youâre on your own to walk home, back to your apartment. What choice do you have but to trudge home in a daze, trying your best to ignore the fact that you feel new sets of eyes watching your every move?
â« Nothing feels real. Everything feels like you walked into a darkness that nobody returns from. It still feels like youâre on a stage with an invisible audience watching and judging your every move, waiting for you to mess up some unknown script so they can devour you whole.
â« You canât sleep after that. Canât think, canât even breathe properly. It feels like youâre going insane.
â« The next day arrives, and you call in sick for work. Your boss sounds concerned but you tell him that youâd stay home and stay safe. You canât bring yourself to leave your apartment, but you also canât sleep, too restless and trying to digest all that you had learned and ignored and didnât want to know.
â« It feels like youâve known the circus members your whole life. But youâve known them only for a couple of days at most. Whatâs happening to you? Why is your mind betraying you? Why canât you think or sleep or just ignore whatâs happening?
â« So with your sleeplessness you start to rack your brain for clues. You do some research on any circuses that had made their way through your home. Flip through a couple unfinished journals you had filled with drawings and paragraphs of especially vivid dreams over the years.
â« You deny it. You deny everything. That reflection, all the dreams youâve had over the yearsâŠthey canât be yours. Surely youâve been experiencing someone elseâs life through their eyes?
â« You end up slowly passing out on your bathroom floor, completely overwhelmed with all that was consuming your mind. Turns out having an existential crisis, depersonalization episode, and panic attack all at the same time isnât very healthy.
â« Deep in your subconscious, you canât hide from your innermost thoughts and fears. If anything, theyâre multiplied. You dream of flickering flames and gnashing teeth. Brittle claws and rusting metal and pointed eyes always in the same colors.
â« Golden yellow. Deep purple. Venom green. Cyan turned blood red. Blue and white. Pale pink.
â« And then you look down to your hands, your clothes. Unfamiliar patterns, yet somehow you still recognize them as yours. The veins in your wrists turned an unnatural color from something that had should not be alongside your blood.
â« Poison.
â« And then you look back in front of you, seeing that someone was now standing there. It wasâŠyou. But it wasnât. But it was.
â« Same face, but with a sad and restless expression. Same eyes, but without any light like a living person. The person looks into your eyes with their dead ones. Red begins to seep through their clothing, but they donât move. Four points along their neck begin to bead up with blood, and it trickles down their collarbone. They still donât move, donât even react to the injuries.
â« Your shoulder starts to sting, right over where you knew you had four tiny little dot-shaped birthmarks. The back of your throat begins to tighten like you had swallowed something sharp and hot.
â« This was you. This person was you, and you are this person. Memories of love, hate, suffering, loss, yearning. A wish never granted. A curiosity towards things that lingered in the dark. Fear of God, of the ones you loved rejecting and forgetting and denying you simply for not being perfect.
â« You wake up on your bathroom floor, stomach churning and eyes stinging. You then proceed to vomit your guts up into your toilet, moaning in pain and trembling from head to toe. It was a very lucky thing that today was yet another day off from work.
â« Not really. Instead of possibly being distracted by your daily tasks at your job, youâre left leaning against your bathroom door to retain some sense of control over your situation.
â« You canât face anyone today. Not even yourself. Especially not Pierrot or Harlequin or any of the other circus performers.
â« Thereâs so much dissonance between the ones you know now and what you knew then. Too much of a difference between the monsters in your dreams and in the circus. They killed you. Ate you. Yet the golden and green-eyed beasts hold your hands in theirs and claim to your face that they wish to keep you safe.
â« Did they already know the truth? Were they just stringing you along to try and devour you once again? Was this all some cruel rigged game? And if they didnât knowâŠhow long until they did? What would they do, what would they say? What should you do?
â« How early into your life was it too late for you?
â« A sob escapes your throat at the idea of being doomed from the start. You just...can't think. Itâs too much.
â« You just stay there, sitting on your bathroom floor and breathing too hard to be healthy. It feels like the only safe space in the entire world from hungry inhuman eyes. Your fingers tremble and your head hurts. Bile bubbles at the back of your throat and coats the end of your tongue.
â« Fear plagues your mind. Yet thereâs also an ache in your heart that comes from some stinging sense of betrayal. And betrayal only comes from those dear to you.
â« Yes. You had found yourself endeared to Pierrot in such a short amount of time. You liked him, enjoyed his endearing personality and his devotion. And you were effortlessly intrigued by the Harlequin, aching to know more about him and his true nature.
â« You found yourself endeared to the entire circus as a whole, in truth. Even despite your fear. How much of these feelings were leftover from your past life, how much was from your own heart here and now?
â« God, whatâs gotten into you?
â« You donât know. You donât know whether to consider that past existence yourself or someone else. You saw through their eyes, felt their pain, shed their tears. Lived theirâŠyour life in that god awful prison disguised as a circus. That death was yours.
â« Those dreams you now realized were memories, those experiences, that lifeâŠall of those were yours. Werenât they? The fondness and fear, those feelings of wonder and terror.
â« But every cell in your body is fighting against your soul. You donât know which side of yourself to listen to, that aching hunger to know the truthâŠor the terror of being dragged down into a darkness deep as hell where no one is supposed to go.
â« But eventually, you ran out of things to cry about on your bathroom floor. At some point, you have to dust yourself off and face the facts. (Which is much, much easier said than done, by the way)
â« With aching and shaky legs you force yourself to stand up, hands gripping your sink like it were a lifeline.
â« You donât want to meet the gaze of the person in the mirror. Who is that?
â« A naive and stupid human who thought they were a normal person until yesterday, thatâs who. No, thatâs not even the whole truth. You always knew there was something going on beneath the surface of the circus. You just tried to ignore it and brush it off as something else.
â« Pull yourself together, will you? Thereâs still something important that you have yet to consider in all of this.
â« As far as you know, you have two main choices.
â« Either face those beasts once more and almost certainly end up killedâŠor try to run as fast and as far away as possible to live the rest of your life until the inevitable arrives.
âŠ
â« No. No, that canât be it. You canât just give up when you havenât even tried. That was then. This is now. Your lifeâŠThis is somewhere. This is something. This may be all you have, but itâs still something. Your home of crowded streets and working in a coffee shop for minimal pay. The sky above, the world below.
â« Youâre still here. Youâre still alive. Things are different now. They have to be.
â« This was a chance. A chance to do something different. A work of fate to do something better than what had happened so long ago. You turn on your sink faucet and splash your face with cupped palmfuls of water, grounding yourself in the present as best you can.
â« Right now, thereâs something you must do. Something you should have done a very long time ago.
â« You need to get some answers. If not for yourself or your previous life who died afraid and undeservingâŠthen for the one they call Columbina. The one you once called the Lamb. Your friend.
Circus Member Reactions:
Pierrot:
â« I feel like Pierrot, despite being the first to encounter the MC, would be the last to fully realize and accept that the MC is, in fact, the same kind human who helped them all those years ago, reborn into new flesh but with the same soul. Or at least fragments of it.
â« He attributes the feelings of familiarity and nostalgia to simply being a form of his lovesickness. Clearly it must mean that you and him were destined to be together, right? Surely it was just coincidence that you looked and sounded exactly like that human from before. Humans all tended to blur together over the years. Surely this was just another case of that.
â« But one thing he canât deny is your scent.
â« Itâs less about the physical attributes of your scent and more about the impressions and memories that spark as a result of them. You smell of coffee grounds, steamed milk, and other subtle things that become sinfully alluring. But strangely, those qualities elicit an odd reaction in his mind. Impressions of the one beforeâŠ
â« The human in the past smelled differently, like fresh linens and cottonâŠand blood. But one distinct note is shared between you and that other human whose name he and the others never learned. The subtle smell of dust. Dry and earthen and delicate. Easily missed, but not easily forgotten by one such as him.
â« It's hidden, elusive. But it's there. As he continues to interact with you and learn more about you, it's nearly suffocating. But he ignores it. Or at the very least, he poorly attempts to. If he acknowledges it, then that could mean the others would find out. And what scares him the most is the fact that he doesn't entirely know what the others would do with you, do to you.
â« But it all comes to a head after you went back to your apartment, and you hadn't been the same since. You were much quieter, tenser. You had the telltale signs of having learned something you couldn't unlearn. But what?
â« If it had anything to do with the circus, then you were in great danger. A sharp pang of fear spears through Pierrot's heart at the mere thought of you being in any kind of danger, let alone danger from his own fellow circus members. He has to protect you. He has to. He has to talk to you, to know what it is that you've learned.
â« When you encounter him once more, there's a strange awareness in your eyes that seems all too familiar. You don't say anything for a moment before you slowly ask him if he had ever worked in a circus before the current circus of horrors. He's slightly caught off-guard before admitting that yes, he did.
â« But then you ask him if he had known any humans in that old circus. He's confused, but you don't let it go. You ask him if he knew about what you had been feeling these past few days. If he remembered as much as you did.
â« "I...I don't know what you're talking about, MC."
â« He very much does know what you are talking about. But he never wants to think of such things. Can't you two just ignore it? Can't he just remain as your admirer, your loyal inamorato, your Pierrot? He doesn't want to remember his time as some sorrowful creature rotting in a corroded cage.
â« But apparently, you do.
â« "You held me from behind. You told me to sleep. Your voice was the last one I heard."
â« He presses his palm to your mouth before you can get another word out. It isn't voluntary, his body moved on its own before his mind could even begin to fully comprehend what it is you said. But then he retracts his hand as though the contact burned him...or you.
â« "I..."
â« Itâs not possible. But the words that came from your mouth were true. And there was no way for you to know such things unless you were there with them on that night. None of the other troupe members had spoken a word of what had happened.
â« It's not possible. Yet here you are.
â« When he finally comes face to face with the undeniable truthâŠheâs terrified. So terrified that he doesnât know what to say or do or even think.
â« If you have the memories of the one beforeâŠthen you know what he is. What heâs done. You being truly afraid of him is one of his deepest fears. What if you flinch away from him? What if you try to run? What if he canât stop himself from tracking, pursuing, hunting?
â«âŠWhat if you hate him for what had happened in the past?
â« And yet, despite his fears and dread, he still canât leave you. There isnât a single bone in his body that would let him do that. But heâd be lying to himself if he claimed that he was completely alright with this new revelation. He's just...frozen.
â« Fear, guilt, sorrow, shameâŠthese all swim through his head and make him lightheaded. You knew he was a monster. Your eyes reflected sorrow, pain, and a knowing pity. For him or for yourself, he canât tell. It makes his heart and mind hurt even worse than if you were afraid.
â« But eventually, those thoughts form one single cohesive desire.
â« He needs to protect you. But how? He canât justâŠstay away from you. He canât do it. He wonât. Itâs selfish, this he knows. Terribly selfish and foolish and bound to end terribly in more ways than one. But Pierrot canât bring himself to leave you be.
â« If the others find out...
â« They might try to stake their claim on you. They might try to hurt you. They might devour you whole because they had long convinced themselves that it was all they were meant to do with humans and the ones they cared for.
â« He can't let that happen. He can't lose you. He refuses to let you go.
â« Both of you need time to process. But he doesn't want to leave you on your own. So the two of you just sit near each other, not exactly embracing or speaking, but trying to hold in all the information and your emotions. He doesnât admit it outright, but you know that he knows.
â« He's afraid to hold you, touch you, be anywhere near you. He can still remember the scent of linen and cotton and dust, the smell of death, the stench of iron. He held you still while the others, they...
â« And then he...
â« It's going to take a while for this all to really sink in. Even longer for him to come to terms with it all. But he won't leave you. Not even with his pain and tears. He loved you, lost you, consumed you once. But now there was a second chance. A second chance that he knows he doesn't deserve. But he'll use it anyway.
â« You thought he was bad before? Good luck having any degree of freedom from him in some form. (You're gonna need it. Like REALLY need it.) The only reason he doesn't outright kidnap you is because the others would have easier access to you.
â« He knows better than anyone that the others aren't mindless bloodthirsty animals, but he still can't help but want to protect you from them. Who knows what their reactions would be like once they inevitably find out the truth? Will they seek to repeat the past? Will they want to make an example of you?
â« What's likelier is that they already know the truth, just as Pierrot knew it (and ignored it) from the start. It's simply a matter of time until they actually face it and accept it.
â« Until that time comes, though, Pierrot will cling to you impossibly tighter. But can you really blame him? I'm sure if you asked for some distance to process your memories on your own, he'd give you whatever you needed. But he'd be waiting.
â« He's tied with Harlequin to be the one who wants to talk about those old memories the least. He just wants to love and protect you here and now from anyone or anything that would threaten you. Why linger in the past if there was nothing left for you there?
â« But there is something left there. And it will take a lot of time and effort to finally acknowledge the wounds still bleeding on his heart.
â« In the end, Pierrot is actually one of the ones who accepts the MC being a reincarnation the easiest. Not the fastest or the happiest about itâŠbut simply the easiest. Mostly because he doesnât ask very many questions when it comes to fate. You were here. You showed him genuine kindness. There exists a second chance. Thatâs all that matters.
â« Itâs no surprise that he would want to keep you close to him forever, take you from the cruel and cold world and keep you safe in the circus.
Harlequin:
â« Harlequin, on the other hand, instantly notices the uncanny familiarity, the way youâre drawn to the circus like a moth to a flame. He initially thinks it to be your curiosity about things that best remain in the dark. That curiosity will be the death of you, this he can feel. (If only he knew it had already been the death of you once before)
â« But as he gets closer to you, thereâs an undeniable sense of nostalgia. It becomes harder to deny the fact that he's just as drawn to you as you are to the circus.
â« It isn't until you visit the green tent and watch his show that he starts to become slightly intrigued outside of wanting to take you from Pierrot. He notices the way you watch his paper puppet story intently, the way your eyes remain fixed on the simple silhouettes meant to portray the monsters and humans.
â« You ask about his show. About the little Angels sent from above. About what happened to them. This piques his interest in you even further. What was it that made you so drawn to the circus, to the story of suffering woven and ingrained within its very foundations, to him?
â« Well, if you were so insistent on learning more, on being near things like him and the othersâŠwhy not give you something to remember?
â« Thatâs what prompts him to enter your apartment after that foolish Pierrot had finally left your side. Oddly, the red-clad clown seemedâŠdisturbed. Unsettled. Harlequin thinks nothing of it.
â« Pierrot was laughably sensitive to every word you shared with him, every little thing you did to him. It was likely nothing of note that affected him so deeply. Now was the Harlequinâs chance to steal you away from him, just as he had done with the Angel before.
â« But when he enters your apartment from your balcony door the way he had before, something is off. Youâre less responsive, seemingly distracted by something. Itâs not nearly as fun if youâre not entirely focused on him.
â« So he probes at your mind, questions what has you so distracted from someone like him. Surely it couldnât be that red fool, he sneers with barely contained disgust. But still you donât say anything. You barely even look at him.
â« But when you do, Harlequin regrets ever going into your apartment.
â« âYou poisoned them. The Angels. You poisoned me. Right here.â
â« You press the fingers on one hand to the side of your neck, to the spot where a strange birthmark was. Four subtle little dots along your neck and shoulder. The exact spots where his claws had once pricked a certain human with his strongest poison. He feels his practiced smile shrink and tighten.
â« But he doesn't let himself be caught off-guard for long. You're good at getting his walls down...but not good enough. He's back to his outward persona in a matter of moments.
â« âIâm afraid I donât know what youâre talking about. And I donât think you do either, MC.â
â« Itâs one of the only times he uses your actual name. A hidden warning. Don't keep doing this, he silently tells you. Don't speak of things you don't fully understand. He was just starting to like you, too. It would be a shame to have to cut this all off-
â« "You didn't want it to hurt."
â« That makes his entire body halt. His heart skipped too many beats, his lungs surged as though he had been stabbed. The blood beneath his skin had turned to ice. There was no way you could have known such a thing. Yet here you were, spouting words that he desperately wanted to pretend he didn't know the meanings to.
â« But even still, he doesn't break. He had broken once, but never again. His eyes narrowed at your words that stung like accusations.
â« "You don't know that. You don't know anything about that story. I think it would be wise for you to choose your words carefully."
â« But to his surprise, you don't have any other words. You simply step closer to him and wrap your arms around his torso, embracing him in a way that made him want to puke.
â« His arms awkwardly move away from the gesture, a guttural and visceral hiss coming from deep within his chest, but you don't let go. Instead a small wet spot starts to form on his costume where your face is buried. Tears. You were crying.
â« Harlequin's own eyes begin to ever-so-slightly sting behind his mask, but he ignores it. Instead his claws instinctively sharpen at his immense discomfort and nearly sink into your flesh, but that instinct is quickly quelled. Mostly.
â« He continues to hiss, to warn against your foolishness, to spit barbed yet shallow words to get any kind of reaction out of you, but you still don't say anything. You just keep holding onto him like you had any idea what you were doing to a loathsome monster like him.
â« Foolish. Only an idiot would show such nauseating displays of affection towards someone like him if they knew what he'd done.
â« ...But in that sense, maybe you really are that callow human from before reborn anew. Rebirthed in new flesh to haunt him and the others in a new cruel way. As if the circus itself wasn't haunted enough.
â« He doesn't regret what he did, he tells himself. It was the only way. What was done was done. That story was finished. So why would you come back? It just doesnât make any sense.
â« How dare you. How dare you return to them now after all this time? What could you want from them? Your existence canât mean anything good for the circus or its members.
â« Harlequin keeps his distance from you after that. He can't handle the idea of you, the idea that the past had taken on a form of flesh to loom over him and remind him of everything he had done. He avoids you like the plague.
â« It will take a tremendous amount of time and patience on your end for him to even consider the idea of facing what he and the others had done in the past. And heâll try his hardest to make you want to avoid him just as much. Heâs willing to make you scared, angry, sorrowful. Anything to keep you away.
â« But of course, his sharp words did not work on you back then in the old circus. You still came back, night after night, offering sustenance and warmth and companionship, however pathetic and meager your attempts were. Why would he expect thorns and barbs and pointed edges to work now?
â« Because itâs all he knows. Itâs all heâs ever known. And itâs all he ever will know.
â« (Thatâs what he had told himself long ago, and he forced himself to think that he accepted that. But you challenged that before, and now you challenge that once again.)
â« Harlequin wants to be rid of you once more. To get rid of his loathing longing for a way to atone for what he had done. But he cannot change. Nobody can.
â« He is still a monster. You are still a fool. This story can only have one ending. Fools are eaten by monsters for their crimes of curiosity and ignorance. Thatâs how the stories go. Those are the roles that had been cast for you, for him, for every human and beast that dared to cross paths.
â« However, deep in his blackened and caged heart, there was a flickering glimmer of hope that refused to die once and for all. And it only got worse when he had met you, when you dared to show kindness to a beast like him.
â« But that all means nothing. Try as he might, this was not one of his paper doll tales. He was not the one in control here. And he wants so desperately to be able to tell this story without having to be a part of it. To distance himself from the truth.
â« Even the most ambitious of vipers know when to abandon prey, when to loosen their coiling grip and hinge their jaws once more. This prey was not poisoned, not pointed or sharpâŠ
â« But sweet. Sickeningly so. Like a carnivorous plant, unassuming and alluring to an insectâŠonly to swallow them whole in moments, leaving nothing behind but a husk.
â« That is what awaits him, he is convinced. After all, why wouldnât you want to exact revenge for what was done to you? Blood repays blood. Why wouldnât you hate him for what he had done?
â« (Of course, he never makes any of his suffering known. If you try to acknowledge it, heâll ignore it and you. If you try to force him to confront what must be said, heâll laugh in your face. Lean even further into the persona he had cultivated over many years. Be patient. Silently leave your arms open and he will slowly walk towards them, step by step.)
Ticket Taker:
â« The Ticket Taker is the one who first recognized the strange illusions of memory with you. He was simply using his human disguise to hand out pink tickets and only wished to stop and get a cup of coffee at the place where he scouted out his latest doll.
â« When you come out and begin to take his order, he is immediately caught off-guard with that nostalgia. He doesn't let it show, obviously, but it's undeniable. You look like an ordinary human, unassuming and ultimately forgettable in the grand scheme of things.
â« He needs to get to the bottom of this, he decides. And what better way to do that than give you a pink ticket?
â« But of course, several things get in the way of you being completely at his mercy. (Whether or not you take the pink ticket from him in the shop doesn't matter in the slightest, as fate itself seems to have different plans for you outside of the pink tent.) That seems to be a recurring trait about you, always slipping through his fingers like water.
â« But when you enter his tent for a second time, this time on your own and without anyone to protect you...he recognizes an opportunity. Your curiosity is insatiable, and it is all too easy to draw you further and further in his tent with visions and voices and brief tricks against your mind with his mirrors.
â« See why in shadows we hide, he and his reflections whisper from within the glass, beckoning you closer and closer to a mirror that houses an obscured mirage of his true form within. He waits inside the reflection, waiting for the perfect moment to close in, to corner you, to render you completely helpless.
â« He can tell that your mind is wildly beating against his lure like a bird ensnared in a trap. But even the most rabid and arrogant creatures can be broken in with the promise of something desired.
â« You walk closer, unafraid when you should be, naive when you shouldnât. The Ticket Taker slowly emerges from the mirrorâs surface, the glass rippling when it shouldnât be possible. One of his white-gloved hands reaches out, an invitation that served more as a trap.
â« But just before his hand could touch yours, you drew back, seeming to realize or remember something. Your eyes shone in a way that felt much too familiar.
â« âIt's you. I know you. A long time ago, you...â
â« Your eyes drift downward as if you were truly recalling a memory that couldnât be yours. But before you can get a word out, the Ticket Taker speaks over whatever thoughts could be turning in that head of yours. (That head which had a face so very much like a human he once knew)
â« ââŠYouâre speaking nonsense, visitor. And I think itâs about time we drop this charade.â
â« He fully steps out of the reflection in his mirror, though you donât step away or flinch back. Not this time. How strange. Perhaps you thought that luck was still on your side.
â« But your luck had run out, this the Ticket Taker was sure of. You held no red ticket, had no white-haired beast looming over your shoulder. Some indulgent and slightly sick part of him took pride in knowing that he would see that frail sense of security shattered.
â« But then his heart stops when his gaze lands on something you take out from one of your pockets. A few matchsticks. Unassuming and irrelevant to all who would see them. All except for himâŠand you. Itâs painfully silent for too long. But then you begin to speak again.
â« âYou told me-"
â« "That's enough."
â« His white-gloved hand moves to grab your shoulder, to get you out of this circus so you can't cause any further problems. Where exactly would he take you? Hell if he knows. He just needs you to go back with the other humans where you belong. (The thought of dragging you to the pink tent is tempting, but Pierrot would likely become a problem)
â« But his hand never reaches your shoulder. It gets closer and closer, but you don't move away. Not even a flinch. Not even a fearful look on your face. It makes him freeze just before his fingers can reach to grasp your shoulder. That look in your eyes. That damned look in your eyes.
â« It was just like...
â« He pulls his hand back, moving to brace both of his arms behind his back to retain any modicum of professionalism and control over the situation.
â« "I think it best you leave, visitor. Before you disrupt anything any further."
â« Outwardly he looks composed and refined. But anyone with functioning eyesight would be able to detect that not even his half-faced mask with a constant smile would be able to hide his insurmountable stress. Anger? Sorrow? Fear? Not even he really knows what roils within him. Heâs justâŠstressed.
â« This wasnât supposed to happen. You were supposed to be left behind to rest like everything else in that godforsaken prison, supposed to be a distant memory. You were supposed to stay dead. Thatâs how the world worked. Humans died as a result of their own curiosity, and monsters feasted on them.
â« But undeniably, here you stand in front of him once again. Alive. Naive. Intruding on a story that wasnât supposed to account for you.
â« You donât move from where you stand for a second, and he feels his composure start to crack, his claws threatening to split the seams at the fingertips of his gloves. Youâre disobedient and unbearably frustrating. So impossibly foolish and unknowing. Just likeâŠ
â« Just like back then. Always coming back when he and the others warned against it. Every single time, without fail, you would show up from behind those curtains. Always with that damned look in your eyes that made it hard to refuse to answer your questions.
â« He retreats into one of his mirrors upon involuntarily making the connection, never once taking his eyes off of yours. Itâs the first time he actively avoids a glaring problem instead of moving to remedy it in some way.
â« But what can he do to be rid of this outlier, this stubborn and irksome human? As easy as it would be to simply drag you to the pink tent and get rid of this problem at its source, to maybe keep you in his blue tent forevermoreâŠhe canât. Not only because Pierrot would become irrational and unstable over you, but also becauseâŠ
â« He doesnât let himself finish the thought.
â« This is one of the only times the Ticket Taker has ever felt so powerless, so unknowing of what to do. The circus had encountered myriads of problems in countless forms, and it had endured every single one of them. Not always cleanly, and certainly not always proudly, but the troupe had withstood. He had withstood.
â« But now there was one little exception, one little human who should have stayed in the past where they belonged. What will you try to do now? Will you wriggle your way into their lives like you had before, becoming yet another catalyst for insurmountable loss?
â« That canât happen again. Each of the circus members had worked too hard for too long and lost far too much just to have it all be rendered meaningless by a single human.
â« Of all the circus members, the Ticket Taker is the most concerned and stressed with these circumstances. You had wandered into their darkness once before, learned the truth of their nature and paid the price for it. But what would you do now? Would you try to become some martyr? Would you attempt to bring an end to what they had tried to build?
â« He doesnât know, and he only gets more and more frustrated the longer he realizes he canât entirely control what you do. He feels no different than when he was in that wretched cage, powerless and helpless. And he detests that more than anything else in the world.
â« He loathes that. Loathes you. You and your godforsaken curiosity and influence over the circus and its members.
â« (He does not. But itâs quite easy for him to convince himself that he does. He hates what you represent in his eyesâloose ends. Unresolved business. Unfinished work.)
â« He wants you far, far away from the circus, from his kin, from him. You can only bring trouble. Unnecessary drama and risks that simply arenât worth it. (It is, but he doesn't know that.)
â« He wishes more than anything that he could nip this problem in the bud, but he canât. The best he can do is hope that the others help him with thisâŠanomaly. If he canât kill youâŠthen heâll avoid you.
â« Unless ordered by the Jester to do otherwise, itâs all the Ticket Taker can bring himself to do.
The Doctor:
â« Like Harlequin, the Doctor instantly picks up on the strange impressions he gathers from you. Heâs encountered countless types of humans before, but only once has he encountered one like you. So very curious about and drawn to the things that go bump in the night. So strangely unafraid of things you should dread with all your heart.
â« Or perhaps you were afraid and dreading, and you simply hid it well. That was an equally intriguing possibility. After all, it was quite rare when anything escaped the Doctor's watchful gaze.
â« After you entered his tent for the first time, heâs left with more questions than answers. Inconclusive results that make him want to split you open, examine and poke and prod at your mind, your heart, your nervous system, everything.
â« Which parts of you would reveal what he wanted to know? Such a delicious and promising specimen, this human. Frightened by many things, but not for the reasons he initially expected.
â« Thereâs something in your eyes that tells him thereâs more behind your fear beyond shallow dread towards the unknown. In fact, it almost seems like thereâs a knowing fear in your gaze.
â« Interesting. Very, very interesting.
â« He decides to perform a little test when he spots you finally making your way towards his cyan tent once again. A minor psychological assessment, he calls it. You look concerned and mildly nervous, but not outright afraid.
â« When youâre strapped to the medical chair and left completely at his mercy, he doesnât refrain from poking and prodding both figuratively and literally, trying to dig down into your psyche and see what makes you different.
â« Youâre oddly quietâŠmore so than any normal human being he had ever had in his examination process. Youâre distracted. Youâre unable to move in a strange and dark environment, and your mind is off somewhere else, clearly finding a more important priority to think about than your own survival.
â« Clearly, a more intensive treatment is needed. A mild escalation.
â« He injects just a small dose of a pink serum, one that will make you a little moreâŠcompliant. Just to ensure you donât lie to him. It was rather important you remained truthful for this.
â« When youâre good and drugged up, he then holds two items up for you to see. In one hand is a bandage, an item all other humans would have chosen. But in the other hand is an ancient-looking metal key spotted with rust. He asks you which one youâre more drawn to and why.
â« You briefly look both items over before answering, movements sluggish and words ever-so-slightly slurred from the drug he administered.
â« âThe key. ItâsâŠfamiliar."
â« Your words make him still his actions. But he remains calm and level as he tilts his head at your choice, more intrigued than anything else.
â« "You've never seen it before."
â« "Yes I have, from..."
â« You trail off, evidently quite tired from the serum in your system. An unfortunate side effect. The Doctorâs red-gloved hand finds its way beneath your chin, clawed fingertips tilting your head upwards to encourage you to wake up a little. He still needs answers.
â« âFrom?â
â« ââŠFrom before. From the circus. The old one. The Ringmaster, heâŠâ
â« You trail off again, struggling to keep your eyelids open, too tired to continue. You seem to relax in the chair you were strapped to, face leaning into the red glove that no doubt reeked of blood and death and medical sanitation substances.
â« You, a human in a strange environment with no way to move, were trusting him with your life. You dared to allow yourself to be so vulnerable like this. Why? How? Why werenât you more afraid? How was your nervous system not panicking and forcing you to stay awake?
â« But most importantly, how the hell did you know the significance of the key?
â« The Doctor knows you haven't seen such a thing before. He knows you would have no way of knowing about the old circus. He knows you wouldnât have a single clue about him if you were an ordinary person.
â« Well. Clearly, you are not an ordinary person. You knew about things you shouldnât, made him and all the others feel some strange sense of nostalgia, and resembled someone from very long agoâŠ
â« This warrants further study. Further testing.
â« He should cut you apart while you were asleep and oh-so enticingly vulnerable. He does not. Why, he canât decide. Perhaps you had more of an effect on him and the others than he thought.
â« That needs to be studied as well.
â« He injects you with yet another serum, this one a mild stimulant to wake you up a little. This isnât the time for a dissection or a vivisection. For now, heâll let you walk away. There are too many questions he needs answers for from you, and you would be of much more use if you were alive.
â« âCome now, sweetie. Wake up. Thereâs work to be done.â
â« The Doctor is the least visibly affected by the reveal that you are a reincarnation of the human from so long ago. Though the past was obviously a sore and fragile wound, he is actually more invested in the how rather than the why.
â« He lists every last question that comes to his mind, every possible test and procedure he can do to possibly explain this strange phenomenon. He wants, no, needs to know every detail of how you returned, how you came back the same and yet so very different.
â« Itâs not really a surprise that he wants to keep you, though not exactly in any ethical or entirely moral sense. If you become a circus doll dressed in pink? Good. If youâre alive and fully conscious/lucid? Great! If youâre dead? Not ideal, but heâll get what he can out of this.
â« The Doctor favors you over his other dolls and test subjects. He likes you, even! But he doesnât entirely respect or acknowledge the fact that you have your own autonomy and will. He isnât cruel or rude in the slightest, justâŠsubtly condescending. A little bit patronizing.
â« Heâs quite used to treating humans as test subjects instead ofâŠwell, you know, people. Itâs gonna take a while for him to see you outside of those rigid norms. (Assuming you survive long enough for him to do so)
â« If you put in enough effort, you could get him to acknowledge the past and the part he played in it. But there isnât much to say about what happened, is there? That was then. This is now. And now the two were intersecting, and he wants to know why and how.
â« But if you challenge him in your own way by observing him just as much as he tries to observe youâŠthat makes him halt temporarily. It reminds him of the way he used to study and learn from that human from his cage just in the same way that creature once learned from his and the othersâ stories.
â« Funnily enough, despite the fact that the Doctor wants nothing more than to splay your innards once more, to peel you apart layer by layerâŠI imagine heâd actually end up being the least of your worries in the circus.
â« He canât kill his most important patient, after all. He still has so many questions to quell his insatiable morbid curiosity, and when one is answered, two more form from the previous conclusion.
â« So he wonât hurt you. Not seriously, anyway.
Jester:
â« The Jester senses something strange before he sees anything. It's subtle, easily missed and just as easily brushed off. It gives him a feeling that someone, something, was slinking around. But oddly enough, its not a bad feeling. Instead, it's...familiar.
â« But monsters arenât attuned to the supernatural or paranormal. Jester merely attributes such feelings and contemplations to the time of year near the anniversaryâŠthe yearly time of that fateful moonless night. That must be it. He wasnât immune to nostalgia, that had to be it.
â« But unlike some of the other circus members, Jester remembers that old night with startling clarity. Every word. Every tear shed. Every bite. And he remembers that human who insisted on intruding into their godforsaken prison. Their face, their scent, their eyes filled with so much naivety and unmarred goodness. It's sickening. Yet he never fights those memories when they emerge.
â« So it's especially strange that so many things are suddenly remembered when you arrive to the circus. Jester feels it before he sees it, a presence so familiar and unbearably nostalgic that it genuinely puts him on edge for the first time in a long time.
â« And when that he gets a proper look at the human, when they finally make their way to his tent and his play...that feeling only multiplies. He stares into your eyes, watches the way you turn away to leave yet also glance behind your shoulder. Something coils and writhes behind his ribcage upon seeing that. Seeing you.
â« A part of him wishes to immediately string you up as one of his dolls, examine every part of your mind. But a larger side of him decides to wait. If you really were anything like the one before...you'd be back. It was simply in your nature.
â« And how right he was. He sees you wandering near the circus threshold, eyes filled with so many emotions and a desire to know. And thatâs when he makes the connection far faster than any of the others. But he has to make sure.
â« He indulged you before with knowledge...why not indulge you now?
â« And so he decides to make a test out of this. A judgement of character, in a sense. He uses and puppets one of his Fools to lead and guide you to a place where no guest is allowed to go. To his personal quarters, just past the outskirts of the circus itself. You hesitate at the entrance, yet you go in anyway. Jester knew you would. It was in your nature, after all.
â« So curious. So naive. So desperate for answers, even after all this time.
â« You don't even notice how he effortlessly followed you in, hiding in the shadows and watching your every move. How nostalgic, he thinks.
â« Violet eyes watch from the darkness as you seem to have some sense of intuition that prompts you to slowly move towards a specific storage box. It's old yet reliable, and it houses many precious things. But you are drawn to only one precious thing in that entire assortment.
â« Your fingers tremble slightly as you gently pick up something loosely wrapped in cloth. That cloth is then peeled away from the item, a fragile and singed book with burnt edges now held in your hands. The pages are thin and extraordinarily brittle, no different from dead leaves. The spine is warped, and the words written inside are just barely legible.
â« Jester watches the way your fingers gently trace the words written in that journal, your face twitching and subtly shifting in a way he had seen many times before in many humans who had learned just a little too much. Recognition. Dread. Realization.
â« He hears you exhale a short and shaky breath when you carefully turn a few pages and land on a set of old drawings. Dark-inked sketches of shadowy figures that appear both humanoid and animalistic. Jester had flipped through that diary himself so many times over so many years that he could tell exactly what pages you were looking at.
âThey spoke again tonight. They told me about their old home. A valley. It was as empty of food as it was full of mouths to feed. Monsters Beasts of all kinds lived there. Tight-knit families and clans and groups. But there were also those who had broken away from their kind to have better chances at survival. What is better, to live among those you love and suffer from empty stomachs and suffocating cages together, or survive alone and suffer only of loneliness? I am not quite sure I fully understand either option. I have always had Father, butâŠI have also always felt lonely. Perhaps humans suffer differently from other creatures. Or maybe we all suffer the same.â
â« Beneath that written passage was a set of sketches of flowers in various states of bloom and decay, then a rendition of the beasts in their cages with their luminous eyes and sharp edges. Jester knew it without even fully seeing the pages.
â« He stepped forth from the darkness then, the bells fastened to the ends of his cap and atop his boots jingling just a little. The sound was more than enough to make you flinch and jolt your head in his direction, eyes reflecting just how startled you were. You didn't say anything for a moment, and neither did he.
â« âYou."
â« It's the only word that comes from your mouth. One word, and it means more than an hour's worth of speaking. It's spoken with awareness, dread, sorrow, but also...
â« Just the slightest bit of familiarity. But that familiarity wasn't yours to have. Not here. Not now.
â« It was all the Jester needed to hear to know everything he needed to.
â« "I-"
â« âWhy do you return to us now, creature? Why here? Why come back at all? Why haunt us in this way?â
â« You say nothing. The journal in your hands was clutched to your chest as though it truly did belong to you. And in a sense, it did. With wetted eyes and paralyzed limbs you continued to stare at him, unable to answer his questions. His eyes narrowed, face uncharacteristically unsmiling.
â« âYou shouldnât have come back, beast. Thereâs nothing left for you in this place.â
â« He notices the way your eyes widen slightly with the nickname, like you recognized it as once being yours. He didnât even realize he had used it for the first time in many years.
â« â...Unless you wish to do this all over again?"
â« He steps closer to you, moving one of his black-clawed hands near your neck and just below your jaw, almost grazing his long and sharp fingers near the skin there. But just before his sharp fingertips could make any contact, he stops himself. Whether for your sake or his, not even he knows.
â« What would your heart taste like this time, he briefly wonders. Would your bones still scrape so cleanly like they did last time? Would your flesh still taste sweet...or would it now become bitter from fear?
â« You still donât answer him. Did you interpret his words as a threat? A promise? An invitation? Not even the Jester himself entirely knows how he intended them.
â« He has an urge to claim your mind, to make you one of his dolls. It would certainly make tracking you far easier. But for some reason he doesnât. Besides the logical reasoning that Pierrot would certainly react poorly to his pet being toyed with, thereâs something else preventing him.
â« But he cleverly hides his inner turmoil. Disguises it as toying with you by pulling you one way and then another when in reality his mind shifts like a tide. Back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth. Going everywhere and nowhere.
â« Should he kill you, nip this little problem in the bud? Should he keep you as a doll, claim your name and your face and hide you where nobody could find you?
â« The Jester is uncharacteristically and completely indecisive, a very rare occurrence. He was used to handling the burdens of making hard decisions, used to being looked towards for answers and conclusions. But here, he had no answer for himself.
â« He simply does not know what to do. And that unsettles him more than your existence.
â« It would be rather easy to simply get rid of this problem entirely. Itâs what Bil would do. Yet he also finds himself wanting to know about this strange occurrence in its entirety. Why did you come back? How? Are you merely a mimicking echo of that dear human, or are you something else?
â« You are not that human from before. Not entirely, anyway. Here and now, youâre less afraid. Less naive. But still bold. Still ignorant of the toll that must be paid to cross over into the beastâs world, their world where to love is to devour and to suffer is to survive.
â« Youâre in their environment now. And there was nothing stopping him or anyone else from tearing you apart and making you a ghost of the past once more. Or worse.
â« Nothing except, wellâŠthose damned undefined feelings that still reside in his blackened and twisted heart even now. It would beâŠa wasted opportunity, of sorts, to kill you now. Not when there were opportunities to learn from what you are and how you came back.
Columbina:
â« Columbina has been so unfathomably lonely for these many years. She canât recall many details of her life before the old circus, canât remember what it was like not to suffer in one form or another.
â« But what she can remember more than anything else, more than her own death, is a light in the darkness. A source of comfort from her feelings of filthiness and a distraction from her hunger pains. A human who wished to help her and her kin. Why? She didnât know. Not at first.
â« But she also saw your goodness, your desire to help simply because it was the right thing to do. You saw beings who were suffering and wanted to alleviate their pain. Why werenât all humans like that?
â« Such questions will never be answered.
â« The Little Dove can only hope that she had told you enough to remain safe and close to her. Would you piece everything together? Would you keep trying to ignore what she already knew?
â« She could only hope youâd come back, that you would be alive, that the others wouldnât give in to their suffering and be rid of their only chance at peaceâŠ
â« You were a shining light of hope for redemption, a mercy from fate made manifest into flesh born anew. There was no way the others could be so callous as to be rid of you once more. Columbina knows that thereâs still goodness in them hidden away somewhere.
â« She closes her eyes, trying to focus on that light, your presence. Itâs all she can do to weakly remedy her insurmountable sorrow and isolation. Was it her own mind conjuring such naive thoughts? Maybe insanity had finally come to claim her mind.
â« And then she realizes that the light isnât merely a hallucination or a dream, itâs real. Youâre here. Here and alive and present and drawing near the mirror that houses Columbinaâs spirit.
â« Step by careful step, you approach the echo of her presence, eyes wide but not afraid. You seem more sad than anything else. Like her.
â« "Its you. YouâŠyou knew me, and I knew you.â
â« She just nods. Of course she knew you. She knows you better than she knows herself. If she were blind or deaf or unfeeling sheâd still know you.
â« Columbina never thought sheâd see you again. Not while she was still here like this. Her chest aches when she sees the knowing look in your eyes, and her undefined hands press against her side of the mirrorâs surface.
â« "Sorry...to have you shoulder these pains and burdens."
â« Her dark and cold hands reach out past the mirror, though not without great effort from her end. It's been so long, and she only has so much energy to interact with the living. It's a good thing you have such an attunement to things beyond the mortal veil. A part of her aches further when she cradles your warm face in her barely corporeal hands.
â« "Sweet human. You who attempted to aid us once before. You who paid the price for my mistakes..."
â« Be you a phantom or a cruel figment of the Ticket Taker's looking-glass illusions or truly a reincarnation...the Little Dove no longer cared. She just wants this one chance to see you again, alive and well...It brings her soul just the slightest bit of peace for her lingering guilt and regret for not being able to protect you better.
â« "I wish there was more I could do for you. But all I can do is ask this one thing."
â« She has no right to ask of anything from you, this she knows with every fiber of her being. Yet she asks anyway. This was the only way to get a somewhat happy ending for everyone...
â« "Amorzinho...see the others not for what they've done, but for who they are. We are more than monsters. More than foul devils. You showed us that once."
â« It was selfish of her to expect you to bring peace to her kin simply for being what you are. She knew all too well what it was like to have roles and titles substitute her name and identity. But she wouldn't have asked this of you if she believed there to be another way.
â« She strokes her thumbs against your face then, already knowing what you were feeling without you needing to say it aloud.
â« Thereâs an understanding in your eyes. Those memories, those dreams and feelings and recollectionsâŠthey were still yours even now. Thereâs also a tinge of fear in your expression. A deep dread of losing who you are now in order to remember who you once were.
â« âYou have a good soul, dearest one. You always have, and you always will.â
â« There was no angel watching over you or Columbina on that moonless night. The two of you met with unfortunate deaths, but not endings. But with this one chance, maybe something become of this. Maybe she could become your guardian angel if nothing and nobody else would.
â« No harm will come to you, sheâll make sure of it with everything she has and everything she is. Maybe Columbina could redeem herself in this way. Maybe she could atone for her past mistakes by ensuring that you stay alive.
â« She leans forward, her face reaching the top of yours. It drains her to do so, but she presses her lips to your forehead in a gesture of care. Of protection. Something wet trickles over her thumbs on your face. Tears. She swipes them away slowly with her thumbs, nudging her forehead against yours. She faintly remembers that gesture from her family.
â« âIâm sorry.â
â« For dragging you into this again. For not being able to do more. For not being able to protect her only friend in that wretched prison. For not being able to protect you better in the present. For placing this burden of choice upon you.
â« Your voice is hushed and thick with apologetic grief when you finally respond.
â« âIâm sorry, too.â
â« For not being there in time. For not being able to save her from that awful fate. For not being able to save any of themâŠ
â« Columbina just holds you closer. A deep sorrow roils within her very being.
â« It is certainly not your responsibility, butâŠa part of her wishes for you to take care of the others since she cannot. Theyâre so lost, so hurt, so convinced of their brokenness and irreparable suffering.
â« The others obviously arenât entirely innocent, but she knows better than anyone that there is no such thing as black and white in this place. Despite their best efforts to make it seem otherwise, everything resides in shades of grey.
â« No matter what choice you make, if you wish to live out your second chance at life away from the circus, if you wish to remain here and seek whatever it is you desire from this placeâŠColumbina will do her best to help you. She knows what itâs like to be unable to choose her fate. She knows that you had been deprived of choice once before.
â« The least she can do is honor your wishes and autonomy, and try to answer whatever questions you may have.
â« If it is the circus, your past life, or the others you wish to know more about, then she will tell you everything she knows. You were kind enough to listen to her story and remember it for what it was. So sheâll give you whatever it is you need to remain safe in this place where knowledge is a double-edged sword.
â« Or if you wish to live your fullest without any burdens of the past, to live the life you were denied in your previous life, then she will tell you anything and everything you need to disarm the others, to escape the cycle of eating or being eaten.
â« Just as long as you make your choice without any regretsâŠthen she will bear no sorrow or resentment towards you.
ââââ
â« Knowing what you know now, what can you possibly hope to do?
â« Perhaps this would be the point where you decide whether to forgive the beasts for what they had done, or seek some feeble form of revenge, or perhaps even attempt to get some closure for your undeserved and untimely death long ago. But if youâre quite honest with yourselfâŠ
â« None of those options sound like something you could do. Not yet, anyway.
â« But you canât just move on with your life like nothing happened. There would always be a part of you thatâs just soâŠsad. So restless for answers and reasoning. And it will always eat away at you from the inside.
â« You will always be in pain from wanting things from those who do not and will not want to give you anything.
â« The lines between who you were, who you are, who you wanted to be, and who you are yet to become are blurred and undefined. Story becomes memory. Memory becomes knowledge. Knowledge becomes suffering.
â« But maybe there was another way. Another hope beyond these sad cycles of violence and fear and twisted care. Your story may not have had any happy or fair beginningâŠbut maybe thatâs why you were still here.
â« (How funny. Still so naive after all these years. Thatâs going to be your end, you know. Or is it?)
â« It all depends on your choices. If not for yourself in the present, then maybe for that young and innocent version of yourself from so long ago. And for the Little Dove who did not deserve such a brutal end.
â« There is one thing that is almost certain, though. The circus members are not quite done with you yet. One way or another, youâll find yourself inextricably linked to them. Resent or embrace or ignore it all you want, it makes no difference.
â« Between knowing fear and naive hope, what will you choose?
â« Will you put in the work, try to get some form of closure for yourself and create unbreakable bonds with the monsters in this life as well? Or will you seek answers more directly through any means necessary and at any cost, including your sanity and closeness with them? That, I will leave up to you.
ââââââââ
â« GOD this took a lot out of me. Had to fight myself to write at least a little bit every day before my brain would turn to sludge. >.>
â« I listened to the Phantom of the Opera soundtrack while listening to this so I'm sorry if this all seems a little melodramatic LOL (I may or may not have drawn just a little inspiration from the mirror scene for TTâs sectionâŠiykyk)
â« I also listened to the Ballad of Jane Doe from Ride The Cyclone as a sort of inspiration for the MC's plight with their nature! I donât see a lot of reincarnation stories where the main character genuinely has an existential crisis over who they were, who they are, and who they are expected to become.
â« I wish I was good at art so I could draw out some of the things I thought of while making this, but alas, I am not. (Whatever higher power that exists had to nerf me I swear) Guess weâre all gonna have to use our imaginations!
â« This is actually my first ever time making any sort of AU thing, so I apologize if any of this isnât very good by AU standards. Iâm still learning! >_<
â« Feel free to ask further questions about this AU in my ask box or make content of your own about it! Iâd love to see how you guys could interpret this. :)
â« This and all of my posts are made entirely without the use of generative AI. I do not consent to any of my work being scraped, copied, or otherwise fed into any form of character-based AI or other LLM. If youâre going to do that anyway, then donât tell me about it.
â« Thank you all so much for your interest in this silly lil idea I had, and thank you for reading! :)
Hello!! I'm not sure if you take requests b ur if you don't PLEASE ignore this!! But i had a request for The Freak Circus clowns, (Mainly Pierrot, Harlequin and Jester but you can add TT or Doctor if you or anyone else likes them too) What if MC was absolutely PISSED with them, like ignoring them, sex banned them and avoiding them. How would thy try to make it up to them? Or do they force them to talk to them? (If you could do them separately that would be amazing!! And mc as gender neutral for all my non binary divas)
TFC x GN!reader
â§Pierrotâ§
"Please?"
You remain mute, gaze straight ahead, arms crossed on your chest.
"....Please?" He begs.
You tsk, rolling your eyes at Pierrot kneeling before you, hugging your legs tight.
"Baaaaaaaaaaabe, are you still mad? It's getting really old." Harley asks, all jovial and with his usual shit eating grin.
You don't even bother rising your eyes from your phone and walk past him without gracing him with your gaze.
"Come on, hun! Sta-" He grabs your shoulder and immediately retracts his hand and swallows the end of his sentence at the sight of your furious expression.
Almost like your touch was pure lava burning his fingers.
You stare at him for a second more with your terrible gaze, stunning him on the spot, and walk away without any more courtsies.
"Yeah! Get out! I don't need you to have fun! I have plenty of fools to chose from...!" He shouts after you, ending it with a loud, rumbling laugh.
He watches you leaving, and when you are out of sight, he lets out a huffed out breath before kicking trash with his foot.
"Fuck....! What did I do...?"
â§Jesterâ§
"Pet? We need to talk about your attitude." The regal voice you used to love rises a mere feet away from you.
You don't respond, not even take the precaution to take a step to the side and you hit the Jester with your shoulder, walking away like nothing happened.
"I see how it is. Suit yourself."
You let out a gasp, suddenly restrained and tied up into tight purple bonds. You groan, looking back at him, annoyed as he implacably pulls you toward him and his tent.
"We're having a discussion, wether you like it or not, Pet!"
â§Ticket Takerâ§
"Darling? Let's be reasonnable adults and talk about it." TT politely invites.
You don't slow down, and take care to not look at him, giving him no mercy and go to walk away.
"Oh no, Darling..." And without any warning, he slams his foot against the wall, blocking your path, and his expression changed from gentle and concerned to cold and impatient, "I don't think you realize who decides here, my Darlin. You do not get to sulk like a pedant child with me."
â§Doctorâ§
"Did I... Do or say something, sweetheart?" He asks with his grave voice, yet it is concerned and cautious.
You keep sulking in your chair, knees pressed to your chest, creasing your nose.
"I am sorry if I hurted you in any way, my sweet. But... I fail to see how you remaining silent will improve our situation, and allow us to move on from my mistake together..." You barely react when you feel his giant body pressing against your back, circling you in his long, powerful arms, "I am sorry... But I need you to tell me, so I do not repeat my mistake... Do you understand?"
