thinking about pierrot's performance and a really scared darling
after your encounter with the rude man, pierrot had his eye on you. he couldn't quite put a finger on what exactly it was that magnetized him toward you. maybe it was your care for him when he was just a stranger, maybe it was the way you looked at him like he wasn't a monster. whatever it was, it drew him toward you. he'd been so impressed by you, he wanted to impress you back.
so, you end up with a red circus ticket in your hand. you were aware of the devilish demeanor of pierrot and his green little.. friend.. (or that's what you'd like to call him, regardless of the glares pierrot shoots him), but you never expected the scares you received at the circus.
like the good friend you were, you happily entered the red tent and found a seat to watch your friend perform; a dance, you had assumed. as the least you'd expected, the act involved knife throwing, body contortion and strange (almost worrying) gymnastics. you shook in your seat at the realistic sight of a woman being impaled in the forehead by knives, splitting the mask she wore in half. your fingers clutched at the hem of your shorts, cold sweat beginning to pour as your stomach churned. the more his body moved, the more ill and afraid you felt.
at the end of his act, you stood up and clapped, attempting to ignore the fear brewing in your stomach. you decided you needed something to distract yourself, and attempted to wander out of the tent to try to ease your nerves with the fresh air. unfortunately, that didn't work!
your ears rung with the sound of circus music, screams and chatter. no matter which corner you turned, you couldn't seem to get rid of that smell of fake(?) blood and those pictures out of your head. the more you walked, the more you spiraled, until-
"my dear?"
your head whipped around faster than ever before, both startled and comforted by the whispers of the silent pierrot.
"ah- jeez, it's just you.." you craned your neck up to look at the tall man. he seemed far more elated to see you than you were to see him.
"my dear! did you enjoy my show? i performed it just for you. what are you doing around here? we should go-" pierrot's eyes snapped onto your sweating face and furrowed brows. he knew something was up. he softly engulfed your hand with his larger one as he inconspicuously led you away from the forbid area.
"the air is.. nicer here. what seems to be the matter? did you.. not enjoy my show, my dear? was it har-"
"no, no, pierrot." you softly laughed out. "i just.. uh.. it looked really real, you know? that's uh.. that's a good thing! good job." you awkwardly praise.
pierrot's eyes suddenly dilate. ahhh, he gets it now.. the performance frightened you. how sweet you are! you came to watch and stayed throughout it all, regardless of how you felt.. you were too good for him.
"my dear, did it frighten you?" he softly spoke, almost adoring. "i-i'm sorry.. it was good, i swear! i just got queasy.. it's dumb, i know." you mutter quietly, embarassment laced in your tone. your eyes meet the ground in shame.
much to your surprise, you hear a quiet chuckle. you glance up at the clown to see his pinked cheeks and wide grin. his golden eyes forming small hearts. "my dear.. that's.. very cute. i'm touched you stayed." he smiled out, his hand covering his mouth. his bells jingled as he tilted his head. 'he's very cat-like..' you state to yourself.
"you're really not mad i was scared..?" you say as your feet hit the sidewalk toward your apartment. "not at all, my dear. i'm happy you came. really, truly.. happy." he smiles at you and you smile back. he walks you back to your apartment, his eyes glued to you for the entirety of the walk back.
to him, you were this fragile beauty, too good for the world around him. and your adorable fear is only making you more vulnerable in his eyes. not to worry though, he'd never let you get hurt. not while he's here. and he's always here. and while he's at your bedside as you lay asleep, nothing will even come close to hurting you.
a/n: guys sorry if this is like ooc or not lore accurate (i wasn't aiming for it to be fully tho) i just finished the game yesterday and i just HAD to write for pierrot. I LOVE HIM BRO
if you have any tips pls give GOODNIGHT!!
The amusement park on the mountain had once been the most popular attraction in your town. Everyone visited for whatever special occasion they could, spending tons of money on merchandise and tickets.
What made it so appealing to the public? Everyone’s answer was always…
Silly the Clown!
He was taller than any person you’d ever meet, always nicely dressed and wearing close make up. When he walked through the park, everyone would stop what they were doing to line up and watch his act.
Not only was he hilarious, he was also quite handsome, according to the men and women that traveled to see him.
He was shrouded in mystery. No one ever saw him without his makeup on around town or even leave the park. People would wait in hiding, trying to catch a glimpse of Silly’s real appearance.
But one day, the amusement park shut down. Rumors spread quickly through the small town, some saying there were loans gone wrong or even murder.
No one really knew why their beloved amusement park was no more, and Silly was never seen again.
That was… until you showed up.
You had been a huge fan of the amusement park as a kid, but never got to attend until your 18th birthday. Now, all these years later, you were back on your 25th, planning to celebrate by doing some urban exploring and maybe take home a souvenir.
The park wasn’t as run down as you had first expected. Although none of the rides seemed to be in order, they looked to be maintained. None of the grass was overgrown, the walls were free of graffiti, and the ground was clean, no litter or dead leaves.
It was as if the park was simply closed for the day, not abandoned completely.
As you wandered the grounds, you kept turning to see if someone was behind you. You felt eyes on you the entire time, making you think perhaps there were cameras or security guards still on the premises to prevent vandalism and theft.
What you didn’t know was that you were being followed and carefully monitored. Every step you took was being tracked, every little thing you did was observed by the pair of eyes watching you,
Though… for a moment the observer’s gaze moved over your body, lingering on… certain parts. It had been so long since someone had come to visit, and even longer since it had even thought about its… urges.
And you were such a pretty thing.
It was getting dark, meaning you should get back to your car soon… but as the sun went down, you nearly fell over in fright when the amusement park sparked to life.
Lights lit up, rides began to move, and you could smell popcorn and hotdogs being cooked near the food stalls.
“I’ve gotta be hallucinating…”
“You’re not.”
You froze in your tracks, the hair on the back of your end standing up straight. That voice…
“S-Silly?”
He appeared in front of you, a red painted smile spreading across his face. “Silly the clown, that’s me! You’re back!”
It took you nearly an entire minute to process that the man in front of you was really Silly the clown, someone that hadn’t been seen in years!
“W… what do you mean?”
His fingertips traced down your side, stopping at your hip. “I know the face of everyone who’s entered this park. And now you’re back…”
His thumb rubbed against your hip, playing with the fabric of your bottoms. “Why don’t you enjoy the park for a bit? I turned everything on just for you…”
And you did, hesitantly going up to the first ride.
He watched you go, his pants tightening. God, how long had it been since he’d felt the warmth of a woman?
Silly was cursed. He couldn’t leave the park, his very soul was tied to it. It stayed the same as it did the day it was abandoned, and he waited for someone to come back.
Why had people stopped coming? Not even the newspaper was allowed to print what happened.
A kid went missing near the park, and Silly had seen what happened. Someone impersonated him, luring the child away. He couldn’t do a single thing, not able to break character and leave to save the child.
It made Silly depressed, and he stopped allowing people to visit. Silly and the park were one being, if he was depressed, it would deteriorate.
But when he saw your car pull up, the rusted gates and old buildings became brand new, almost as if the park was perking up to impress you.
After going on several rides without waiting in lines and feasting on corn dogs, funnel cake, and lemonade, you let out a happy sigh.
“Having fun?”
You jumped slightly, relaxing when Silly came into view.
“Yeah… it’s been a long time since I’ve been to an amusement park. It’s been nice.”
He watched you, his eyes focusing on your soft tummy and fat tits. Never before had he taken such interest in a female.
He didn’t know much about what he was or how he came into existence, much less the nature of his urges, but he did know that he had needs…
And you did too.
Silly was attractive in a strange way. It was hard to describe his features, but something about him made you… horny. Maybe it was how tall he was, maybe it was the way he talked…
Before you knew it, you were being led away by the hand. You didn’t complain or try to escape his grip, in fact you were both curious and aroused. Where was he leading you?
Was it bad that being all alone with that clown in an abandoned park, having no idea where he was taking you made you horny?
Silly was struggling to keep himself together.
You were pulled into a tent, something slippery and slimy slipping between your legs as you were bent over. All you had to hold on to was a tent pole as silly grabbed your fat hips.
“God…” he murmured, his tentacle like cock slithering past your panties and rubbing against your glistening clit. “Need this…”
Without much warning he pushed in, groaning at how tight you were. It felt so strange, feeling him wriggle and writhe inside of your cunt.
The second he felt you clench around him he groaned, his body leaning into yours as he nibbled at your ear.
“So wet… pretty little thing, don’t you wanna just stay here forever? I’ll let you have the best day forever if I get to fuck into this pussy at the end of every night…”
His clown makeup dripped onto your shoulder, making you look back. Your vision was already a bit blurry from the pleasured tears falling from your eyes, but you swore you saw a strange creature behind you…
He forced you to look away, cooing softly. “Shh, don’t look, princess… I don’t want my pretty little thing going insane.”
His cum spurted inside of you, and you felt uncomfortable stretch when his cock began to go crazy, wiggling and squirming as if trying to burrow inside of you as deep as it could.
A soft growl left his throat as he settled down from his high, his thumb rubbing circles on your hip.
“Good girl… let’s get you cleaned up, hmm?”
Want more? My commissions are open, or you can become a Kofi member!
Synopsis: Stuck in your least favorite place at a carnival-- the hall of mirrors-- a not so friendly-looking clown comes to do the opposite of easing your fears.
Creepy masked children and eight-foot tall jugglers were not exactly your favorite attractions at the carnival. You mostly came for the cotton candy, the ring toss, and photobooths that covered half of your pictures with arrows saying ‘Im With Stupid’ and ‘BFFs 4 LYFE.’
Least of all things you enjoyed, was the hall of mirrors. Fog ran from behind shadowing curtains leading to the halls, directing you inside a small warehouse unit lit only by faint, swinging spotlights. It was entirely grey, sterile, and absolutely covered with mirrors.
The couple who went in front of you had already disappeared within a maze of their reflections. Your friends went forth to admire how cool it all looked, making silly faces in the distorted mirrors as they skipped forward.
The cold inside was so drastic from the carnival field’s early fall air, the occasional breath of breeze reminding you that October was here.
“Hey guys, wait a second!” You shout. You’re quick to wrap your arms around yourself, alert and wide-eyed at every blur, every small twist in your reflection.
“Hurry it up, slowpoke!” One of them responded, laughing as another screamed, following with a playful ‘stop!’
“I see the exit already,” They say, “we’ll wait for you outside!”
“Hold on, wait just-- just wait for me okay!?”
You try stumbling forward, bumping into a cold wall of glass as your reflection stares back at you. There were no arrows anymore, no clear ways through as you tried to look past your own eyes, a million versions of yourself gawking.
Where was everyone else? What happened to the line of people behind you?
It was quiet, save for the small whir of the air conditioning on full blast making the room thin and chilled.
Pins and needles stuck into your chest, labored breaths making the glass in front of you fog. It was rusted with cracked glass and a fake blood smear, making you look like a fractured gory mess. A childish whimper left your mouth, frown etched into your face as you begin to shake, trying to walk backwards from your reflection.
Something firm and clothed in scratchy polyester hit your back, stopping you from bumping into another set of mirrors.
“S-sorry,” You mumble, attempting to hide the tears forming in your eyes. You shuffled around, embarrassed that your crippling nervousness was being witnessed by some stranger.
But that stranger didn’t move, their bright colors bouncing and shining off of the mirrors in front of you. You turned to stare at the mirror, failing to compose yourself when you noticed it.
Face darkened by height the spotlight can’t reach, red and pink and yellow polka-dots covered their body from head to toe. You swear you can see a party hat attached to the top of its head, held on without a string as the intruder glares down at you. Red has covered their funny looking shoes, drenching up to the entirety of their polka-dot trousers in dark, hot blood.
You shriek, slipping backwards as you slide in a streak of crimson left from its tracks. Your hands are covered in it, pressing against the checkered floor as you scramble away.
Tears stream down your cheeks as you collide with a mirror, stumbling to get away from your millions of reflections, all the while frantically searching for an exit that can’t be far.
But the glass never ends, static against your shaking fingers as the figure stands there, one foot lurching as it stomps forward.
“No no no no,” You cry, hyperventilating as you push your nails in between the cracks of two pieces of glass to create your own exit. It grows, getting bigger, leering over you, stretching out a gloved hand towards your head. “Please! Please leave me alone--”
Begging, you flinch from its agile fingers. You have nowhere to run, its curly-toed shoes nearly touching your knees as you cling to the floor. You shield your face, turning away from the revolting smell of metal and sulphur.
A fistful of your hair pulls your head from the safety of the ground. Your eyes were swollen and puffy, tears and drool falling from your face as you tried to turn away to no avail.
The clown’s eyes were like headlights, huge and wide in their vibrant yellow hue. Its scleras etched with black veins grew to its iris as it watched you. A tear dribbled down your jaw, falling to your chest, its eyes following without blinking.
A split-wide grin cracked at the paint covering the clown’s face, rosy-red cheeks blending with white, as teeth and gum filled your vision; it silently laughed, a hoarse wheeze leaving its mouth as it watched you attempt to jerk away.
The clown pushed your head against the glass, mimicking your tears with an exaggerated frown and twisted fist beneath its eye.
“What a crybaby….” It spoke. Its voice was unlike that of human tone, choked and rasped, deep with exhilaration and clogging ash. “Is this all it takes to make you cry? Pathetic…”
You attempt to let out a ‘please,’ before it shushes you, harsh and short.
“Quiet, now. I don’t want to hear anything but your cries. Where are those pretty tears I just saw?”
You stare at it, confused, terrified, trying to ignore the black shadow where its reflection should be in the mirrors behind it.
Two gloved fingers pinch your cheek, hard. You let out a broken rasp of a whimper, your skin on fire as the clown lets go once you begin to sob again, leaning against the cold glass of the mirror to escape from its attention.
“Yes…”
A black tongue slides from its mouth, curling like it has a mind of its own. Impossibly long, it continues to grow in length as it hovers over your burning cheek.
A tear lands on its tongue, but it's not enough. The slick muscle pushes against the squish of your cheek, wiping something grotesque along your skin. The droplets drenching your face are thoroughly cleaned up by the inky muscle, dipping lower to slide against your jaw.
“I can taste your fear. So wretched, so terrified of the unknown, of what’s to come.”
You keep your eyes shut, repeating the same phrase in your mind, ‘Go away go away
go away!’
From the audible crack in face paint, and something akin to splintered teeth, you can tell it was smiling at you again.
“You won’t get rid of me that easily, not when that horrified face you have on is so…addictive.”
The clown’s closer to you, you can feel it; the distance short between its stench of clay and icy breath.
“I wonder what’ll make you cry harder, how long it’ll take you to break. Let’s find out together, shall we?"
Clown whose totally not a demon standing at the foot of your bed while you suffer sleep paralysis.
Clown honks his nose and you suddenly wake up and he's gone.
Fitst night was weird but now he keeps coming back each night getting closer and closer until he's sitting on the bed right next to you.
Up until this night he would only stand there staring, maybe drooling a little. Tonight? He's making a balloon animal. He's never done that before, it's got you curious.
He makes a large ring, gold band, ridiculous large white diamond on it. The ring is way to large when he slips it on you. It fits on your forearm with room to spare.
Like always he honks his horn abf you wake up. This time placed on that same hand the balloon had been. Gold band, ridiculously large white diamind2. The same ring made real
What this could have meant made you rather nervous.
Tags: HEAVY non con, abduction, obsession, Reader is 18+, begging, fingering, isolating, clowns, violence, toxic behavior, hide n seek.
People have fears. Heights, spiders, worms—you name it, sometimes I'm wondering if I'm really that childish to be scared at literally a person with costume and makeup, but whenever I hear those giggling, honking and those clowny noise, I can't help but feel shiver in my spine and that paranoia eating me like a quick sand.
It's a sunny day outside, my family decided to go to the new circus that just opened in our town. My family knows it—that ever since I'm a child I have that constant fear of clowns yet they ignored my protest about not wanting to go, too eager to help me fight my fears.
The tent is a bright red color, the smell of popcorn and cotton candy wafting through the air, mixing with the distant sounds of carnival music and the occasional roar of a wild animal. My heart is racing as we walk through the crowd, the anticipation of the horrors that may await me behind every corner is almost unbearable.
The moment we enter the circus, a clown named Sphere approaches us with a smile so wide and eyes so bright that it seems like a mask painted on his face. His hair is a wild mess of colors, and his outfit is a patchwork of patterns that make me feel dizzy just looking at it. He extends a hand with a balloon in it, "Welcome to the show!" he says, his voice a forced cheerfulness that makes my skin crawl.
My family exchanges glances, but then my little brother, Timmy, runs over to him, eyes sparkling with excitement. "Can I have a balloon?" he asks, and Sphere laughs, a sound that is both jovial and eerie. He ties the balloon around Timmy's wrist, the plastic stretching and creaking. I can't help but feel a sense of dread as I watch them interact.
As we walk deeper into the circus, the lights dim and the music gets louder, the smells becoming a cacophony of animal scents, grease, and the faint metallic tang of fear. The clowns perform their acts with a disturbing level of precision, their smiles never wavering as they juggle, tumble, and ride bicycles. I keep my eyes on the ground, trying to avoid any accidental contact with their piercing gazes.
But no matter where I look, Sphere seems to be there. His eyes are always on me, tracking my movements with an intensity that makes my palms sweat. He laughs a little too loudly at his own jokes, his teeth sharp and unnaturally white against the stark red of his mouth. I feel his stare like a physical weight, and I can't shake the feeling that he's watching me, studying me.
During the intermission, I manage to slip away from my family to the bathroom, desperately needing a moment of solace. As I wash my hands, the water cold against my skin, I hear the telltale sound of a balloon squeaking against the floor. I turn to see Sphere leaning against the wall, his arms crossed, his smile still plastered on his face. "You seem to be enjoying the show," he says, his voice a whisper that sends chills down my spine.
I force a smile, trying to keep my voice steady. "It's... interesting," I reply, hoping he doesn't notice the tremble in my voice. His eyes narrow slightly, and for a second, the cheerful mask slips, revealing something darker beneath.
"Just interesting?" he asks, taking a step closer. The way he says it is almost a challenge, and I can see the glimmer of something sinister in his gaze. I take a step back, my hand reaching for the bathroom door handle. "I would have thought you'd enjoy it more, Y/N."
My heart skips a beat at the sound of my name on his lips. "How do you know my name?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper. He laughs, a sound that's more of a chilling cackle than a cheerful giggle. "Oh, I know all about you," he says, leaning in so close that I can feel his hot breath on my face. "Every little detail that makes you who you are."
Suddenly, his hand snatches mine, pulling me towards a hidden corner behind the bathroom stalls. The plastic of the balloon still tied to my wrist scrapes against the wall, leaving a trail of paint on the metal. Panic sets in as I realize I'm trapped, my heart pounding in my chest.
"Sphere, let go!" I try to sound firm, but fear laces every syllable. He just smiles wider, his grip tightening. "You're so much more fun when you're scared, Y/N," he murmurs, his voice a chilling caress against my ear.
He starts to pull me through the twisting back corridors of the circus tent, the fabric walls billowing around us with every step. The music and laughter from the main show seem distant now, replaced by the thud of my racing heart and the scraping of my shoes against the floor. I try to resist, to pull away, but his strength is surprising, like a coiled spring beneath the floppy exterior.
As we weave through the shadows, the clowns' dressing room comes into view. The neon lights flicker, casting jagged shadows across the garish makeup and costumes hanging from hooks. The smell of greasepaint and sweat fills the air, thick and suffocating. "Where are you taking me?" I demand, but Sphere just giggles in response, the sound sending a shiver down my spine.
He stops abruptly, spinning me around to face him. His smile widens, the makeup around his mouth cracking as he leans in close, his breath hot and sweet with a hint of something rotten. "Just a little game, Y/N," he whispers, his eyes gleaming with an unsettling light. "You see, I've noticed how much you've been avoiding me today. It's making me feel a bit... neglected."
My stomach turns as I realize the full extent of his obsession. "Look, I'm sorry," I stammer, trying to keep the panic out of my voice. "I just don't like clowns, that's all."
But Sphere seems unfazed by my protests. "Oh, but I like you," he says, his grip on my hand tightening to the point of pain. "A lot." His smile twists into something that's more of a snarl than a smile. "And when I like something, I don't let it go so easily."
Before I can react, he yanks me into the dressing room and locks the door behind us with a final, echoing click. The room is a cluttered mess of oversized shoes, colorful wigs, and garish outfits. The walls are plastered with newspaper clippings and photos of past performances, all with Sphere's face at the center, his grin growing wider and more disturbing in each one.
He releases my hand and starts to circle me, his eyes never leaving mine. The floorboards creak under his weight as he steps closer, his movements deliberate and predatory. "You know, Y/N," he says, his voice low and dangerous, "I think you're playing hard to get."
I swallow hard, my eyes darting around the room for any escape route. The walls seem to close in around me, the clown paraphernalia watching with a silent, malevolent glee. "I'm not playing games," I reply, trying to sound firm despite the tremor in my voice.
Sphere stops his pacing, tilting his head to the side as if considering my words. "No?" He asks, his smile never faltering. "Well, then, let's make it interesting." In a flash, he snatches a rubber chicken from a nearby chair and tosses it into the air, catching it with ease. His eyes gleam with a sick excitement that sends a bolt of terror through my veins.
With a swift pivot on his oversized shoe, he lunges at me, the chicken held out like a weapon. I scream and stumble backward, tripping over a pile of oversized shoes. As I fall, my hand knocks over a rack of props, sending a cascade of plastic horns and confetti into the air. The sudden burst of noise and color only seems to fuel his manic energy. He starts to chase me around the small, cramped space, the rubber chicken slapping against his palm with a wet, meaty sound.
My heart thunders in my chest, the walls closing in with every step he takes. The room is a maze of clothing racks and trunks, each corner a potential dead end. I can feel his eyes on me, the unblinking stare of a predator. I dodge behind a rack of sequined outfits, hoping the fabric will shield me from his view, but his laughter echoes through the room, telling me he's closer than I think.
The rubber chicken hits the floor with a wet smack, bouncing away as he reaches for me. His fingers graze my arm, leaving trails of cold greasepaint. The chuckling turns to a full-blown cackle as he pulls me out into the open. "Why so shy?" he coos, his grin now a twisted, malicious thing. "Don't you want to play with me?"
I stumble backward, my feet entangled in a mess of fabric and props. His eyes gleam with a madness that sends ice down my spine. The cheerful exterior has crumbled away to reveal a creature of obsession and darkness. His pupils are dilated, and the makeup around his eyes has started to run, creating a grotesque contrast against the stark white of his face.
He removed his wig, revealing a mop of wavy short white hair, and his true face emerged from beneath the layers of makeup. Despite the madness dancing in his eyes, there was something eerily attractive about him. The sharp angles of his cheekbones and the curve of his smile made him look like a fallen angel. But the way his eyes burned into me, the hunger in his gaze, was anything but heavenly.
"I know what you're thinking," he said, his voice dropping to a whisper. "You're wondering why I'm doing this." He stepped closer, his breath hot and sour. "It's simple, really. You see, I noticed you talking to that acrobat earlier." His smile grew colder, his eyes darker. "I don't like it when people I care about talk to other people."
The words hit me like a punch to the gut. "What? I don't even know you," I protested weakly, trying to scuttle away from him.
But Sphere was already lost in his own delusion. "You think I didn't see?" he spat, his eyes wild with rage. He grabbed a handful of my shirt and yanked me closer, his grip like a vice. "You think you can just flirt with him while I'm here, watching you?" His knuckles turned white with the effort of holding back his anger, and the room grew colder with his fury.
"I wasn't flirting!" I insisted, the panic rising in my voice. The clown's smile grew more twisted, his eyes narrowing into slits. "Liar," he hissed, and then, without warning, he slapped me hard across the face. The shock of the impact sent stars dancing in my vision, and I tasted blood on my tongue.
Tears streamed down my cheeks as I stared at him, trying to understand what had happened. The pain was a stark reminder of the reality of my situation. "I'm sorry," I whispered, my voice trembling. "I didn't mean to make you feel that way."
Sphere's grip on my shirt loosened, his expression flickering with confusion. He took a step back, his smile fading into something more human. "What did you say?" His voice was softer now, less menacing.
I swallowed the metallic taste of fear and repeated, "I said I'm sorry." The words felt foreign in my mouth, but I knew I had to play along if I wanted to survive. "I didn't mean to make you feel that way."
Sphere's eyes searched mine, the rage slowly draining from his expression, replaced by a flicker of doubt. He let go of my shirt, his hand hovering in the air as if he wasn't quite sure where to put it. "You... you're not lying?" he asked, his voice unsure.
I shook my head, keeping my eyes on his, my voice steady despite the tremble in my chest. "I swear. I wasn't flirting. I was just asking for directions to the concession stand."
Sphere's expression softened slightly, his grip on the rubber chicken loosening. He took a deep breath, his chest rising and falling with the effort of controlling his emotions. "Directions?" he repeated, his voice a whisper.
I nodded, taking a cautious step towards him. "Yes," I said, my voice shaking. "I just wanted to get some popcorn for Timmy. That's all."
Sphere's gaze searched my face, looking for any sign of deceit. His eyes narrowed, but the doubt remained. "Why would you do that?" he asked, his voice a mix of confusion and hurt. "Why would you ignore me?"
I took another step closer, placing my trembling hand on his arm. "I didn't ignore you," I whispered, trying to keep the tremor from my voice. "I just didn't know you liked me that way." His expression softened, and I felt a flicker of hope. Maybe, just maybe, I could get through to him.
He leaned in, his breath hot against my cheek. "But I do like you, Y/N," he murmured, his voice thick with longing. "I've liked you since the first time I saw you." His hand slid from my arm to my waist, his touch sending a shiver through my body. "I want to make you happy."
I knew I had to tread carefully. "I know," I said, trying to keep my voice soft and soothing. "And I appreciate it, Sphere. But I don't think this is the right way."
He looked at me, his eyes searching, and for a moment, I thought I saw a glimmer of sanity behind the madness. His hand on my waist tightened, but his gaze remained on my face, as if trying to read my thoughts. "What's the right way?" he asked, his voice a low rumble.
I took a deep breath, my heart racing. "Maybe we could talk," I suggested, trying to keep my voice calm and even. "Get to know each other without the... the games." His eyes searched mine, his smile slipping away as he considered my words.
Sphere nodded slowly, his hand moving from my waist to the small of my back, his touch sending a shiver down my spine. He leaned closer, his breath warm against my ear. "You're right," he murmured. "Let's talk." He guided me over to a chair in the corner of the room, the plush velvet upholstery a stark contrast to the cold steel frame.
He sat down, pulling me onto his lap, his arms wrapping around me like a vice. "Why are you so scared of me, Y/N?" His voice was a mix of innocence and something darker, a hint of the madness still lurking beneath the surface. "I just want to make you smile."
My heart raced as his hand began to trace circles on my back, the fabric of my shirt growing damp with my sweat. His breath was warm against my neck, sending goosebumps down my spine. "I know you're scared," he whispered, "but you don't have to be. I'll take care of you." His words were a seductive promise, a dangerous lure that I knew I couldn't trust.
Sphere leaned in closer, his nose brushing against my ear as his hand slid up my side, the fabric of his costume brushing against my bare skin. "You're so beautiful," he murmured, his voice a sweet, deadly caress. "Don't you want to be with someone who sees that?" I could feel his breath hitch as his hand moved up to cup my face, tilting it so that I was forced to look into his eyes.
My heart hammered in my chest as his thumb traced the line of my jaw, his eyes searching mine for any sign of consent. His touch was both terrifying and oddly comforting, the warmth of his skin grounding me in the chaos of the moment. But the fear remained, a cold knot in my stomach that grew tighter with every beat of my heart. "Please," I whispered, trying to keep the tremor from my voice. "Let's just talk."
Sphere's smile grew a little wider, his eyes never leaving mine as his hand slid down to my waist, his fingers digging in slightly. "We are talking," he murmured, his breath warm and tickling against my neck. His other hand reached up to tug gently on a lock of my hair. "Don't you want to feel what it's like to be truly alive?"
I could feel the heat of his body against me, the firmness of his thighs beneath my legs. His fingers began to trace patterns on my skin, moving higher, closer to my chest. "You're so tense," he said, his voice a purr. "Let me help you relax." His hand moved up to my shoulder, his thumb brushing against the bare skin of my neck.
My breath hitched as his other hand slid down to my thigh, his fingertips skimming over the fabric of my shorts. "Sphere," I whispered, trying to keep the tremor from my voice. "Please don't." But his grip only tightened, his eyes never leaving mine. He leaned in closer, his breath warm and sweet, a stark contrast to the cold fear coiling in my stomach.
"You're so soft," he murmured, his hand moving higher, dangerously close to the hem of my shorts. His thumb traced the sensitive skin just below my ear, sending shivers down my spine. I couldn't help but lean into his touch, even as the voice in the back of my mind screamed for me to run.
"Relax," he whispered, his breath hot against my neck. "Let me show you how much fun we can have together." His hand slid further up my thigh, the fabric of his costume brushing against my skin, making me shiver. I tried to push away the feeling of revulsion, focusing instead on the warmth of his touch, the gentle way he was speaking to me.
"Sphere, I-" I began, but his mouth was suddenly on mine, cutting off my protests with a kiss that was surprisingly gentle. His tongue slid against my lips, coaxing them open. I couldn't help but respond, my body betraying me as I leaned into the kiss, his flavor a mix of candy and something darker, something that made my stomach twist.
His hands moved with a possessive hunger, one sliding up to cup the back of my head, the other continuing its slow, torturous journey up my thigh. I moaned into the kiss, the sound muffled by his mouth. He took this as an invitation, his hand moving higher, his touch growing bolder, more demanding.
The fabric of my shorts was no barrier to his seeking fingers, and before I could fully process what was happening, he had slid them underneath, his palm cupping my intimate flesh. I gasped, my body responding despite my mind's frantic protests. His grip tightened, his thumb beginning to stroke in a slow, deliberate rhythm that made my vision swim.
Sphere's other hand tangled in my hair, pulling my head back to expose my neck. He kissed along the sensitive skin, his teeth nipping gently, sending waves of pleasure and fear crashing through me. His touch was a storm of sensations, a mix of pain and pleasure that made me feel alive and terrified all at once.
His hand continued to move under my shorts, his fingers teasing and exploring with a possessive hunger that made me whimper. I tried to push his hand away, my body responding despite my mind's screaming protests. But he was too strong, too determined.
With a sudden jerk, he yanked the fabric aside, exposing me completely to his gaze. His eyes widened with excitement, and his touch grew rougher, more insistent. "You're so wet for me," he murmured, his voice thick with lust. "Do you like it when I do this?"
I whimpered, torn between the horror of the situation and the unwanted arousal his touch elicited. I tried to push his hand away, but his grip was unyielding. "Sphere, stop," I managed to say, my voice shaking. But he was beyond listening, beyond reason.
His thumb pressed harder against my clit, sending jolts of pleasure through me that I despised feeling. "You like it," he murmured, his voice a mix of satisfaction and triumph. "You can't hide from me, Y/N." His free hand reached up to grab a fistful of my hair, tilting my head back even further. He kissed me again, his teeth sinking into my bottom lip, drawing a gasp from me that he took full advantage of, deepening the kiss, his tongue invading my mouth.
The sound of his clown shoes squeaking against the floor filled the room, a twisted soundtrack to the horror playing out before me. His hand worked faster now, his fingers sliding inside me with an ease that made me feel sick. I tried to pull away, but his grip on my hair tightened, keeping me in place.
"You're mine," he murmured against my neck, his breath hot and ragged. "Mine to do with as I please." His words were a cold slap in the face, bringing the reality of my situation crashing down on me like a ton of bricks.
I struggled against him, my fear turning to anger and desperation. "No," I gritted out, pushing against his chest. "Let go of me."
But Sphere was lost in his own twisted fantasy. His hand moved faster, his breath coming in short, panting bursts against my neck. "You're so tight," he whispered, his voice a dark caress. "So warm, so wet."
I squirmed in his lap, trying to break free of his iron grip. His fingers moved in a relentless rhythm, each stroke sending a bolt of unwanted pleasure through my body. "Please," I whimpered, the word barely escaping the vice of his mouth.
Sphere's eyes searched mine, his smile never wavering. He leaned back, his gaze raking over me with a possessive hunger that made me feel like a toy in his hands. "Say it," he murmured, his thumb still stroking my sensitive flesh. "Tell me you want this."
I bit my lip, the fear and arousal warring within me. His touch was wrong, but my body responded regardless, betraying me with every shiver and gasp. "I-I don't know," I managed to say, my voice trembling.
Sphere's smile grew a little softer, his eyes searching mine for any sign of willingness. "Shh," he murmured, his thumb circling my clit with a gentle pressure that made my eyes roll back in my head. "Just tell me you want this, Y/N. Just say it." His voice was a seductive whisper, his eyes filled with a desperate need for my validation.
I swallowed hard, the fear giving way to a strange mix of emotions. His touch was wrong, but the pleasure was undeniable, a siren's song that I didn't want to resist. His hand moved in a slow, steady rhythm, coaxing a response from my body that I couldn't suppress. "I... I don't know," I whispered again, my voice barely audible.
Sphere leaned in closer, his breath hot against my ear. "Say it," he urged, his voice a soft growl. "Say you want me." His thumb pressed down harder, and I couldn't help the whimper that escaped my lips. My body tensed, my breathing shallow and fast.
I stared into his eyes, the madness in them now a frenzied need for my acceptance. His hand moved in a slow, hypnotic rhythm, each stroke sending waves of conflicting emotions crashing through me. I didn't know if I wanted this, but I knew I didn't want to fight anymore. His grip on my hair loosened, his hand moving to cup my cheek instead, his thumb stroking my skin with a gentle tenderness that was at odds with the harshness of his earlier touch.
"Say it," he murmured, his breath hot and sweet, his eyes searching my face for any sign of submission. "Tell me you want me." His voice was a whisper of hope, a plea wrapped in the guise of a demand. The room spun around me, the clown's twisted world becoming my own, the line between fear and desire blurring into a haze of confusion.
My breath hitched as his thumb continued its torturous dance, the pleasure building in a crescendo that I couldn't ignore. "I..." I began, my voice barely more than a whisper. "I don't know what I want." Sphere's smile grew a fraction wider, his eyes lighting up with a dark triumph.
He leaned in closer, his nose brushing against my cheek as his hand slid down to cup my chin. "Tell me you want this," he urged, his voice a seductive purr. "Let me make you happy." His hand moved from my chin to the back of my neck, his grip firm but not painful. His thumb brushed against my bottom lip, a silent request for entrance.
And with a tremble of defeat, I parted my lips, giving him the response he craved. "I... I want you," I whispered, the words barely more than a breath. His smile grew wider, his eyes alight with a dark victory. Without a moment's hesitation, he claimed my mouth in a bruising kiss, his tongue plunging deep. His hand slid from my neck to my chest, his fingers deftly unhooking my bra.
The cool air of the dressing room hit my bare skin as he yanked the garment away, leaving me exposed to his hungry gaze. He pulled back, his eyes roaming over my breasts with a greed that sent a shiver down my spine. "So beautiful," he murmured, his voice a hoarse whisper. His hand slid up to cup one, his thumb flicking over the sensitive nipple.
Before I could process the sensation, Sphere was standing, lifting me with him, his hands never leaving my body. He laid me down on the chair, his eyes never leaving mine, the madness in them now mixed with something primal, something untamed. His costume was a mess of colors and fabric around us, a stark contrast to the cold, calculating look in his eyes.
He knelt between my legs, pushing them apart with a force that was surprisingly gentle, given his earlier aggression. His hand slid from my neck to my chest, cupping my breast in a firm grip that sent a jolt of pleasure through me despite the situation. His thumb circled my nipple, teasing it to a hard peak, while his other hand slid back down to my thigh, his fingers tracing the wetness that coated my skin.
Sphere's eyes never left mine, his smile a twisted mockery of the cheerful facade he had worn earlier. He leaned down, his mouth closing around my nipple, his tongue flicking and teasing the sensitive flesh. I couldn't help the moan that escaped me, my body responding to his touch despite the fear that still held me captive. His teeth grazed the sensitive skin, a hint of pain that only served to heighten the pleasure.
His hand slid down to my center, his fingers pushing aside the fabric of my shorts and underwear. I felt his thumb slide over my clit, the pressure building, the anticipation of what was to come making me squirm. He looked up at me, his eyes wild with need, his smile a twisted mockery of the gentle lover he had once pretended to be. "You're mine now," he murmured, his voice a mix of triumph and insanity.
And then he was over me, his clown costume a blur of colors and the smell of greasepaint and sweat. He shoved my shorts and underwear down to my ankles, leaving me bare and vulnerable. His own costume was pushed aside, revealing his arousal, long and thick, standing at attention as he positioned himself between my legs. The room spun around me, the clown's laughter echoing in my ears as I stared up at him, my heart racing with a mix of fear and a twisted excitement that I didn't want to acknowledge.
With a single, brutal thrust, he filled me, his cock stretching me in a way that brought tears to my eyes. I bit back a scream, my nails digging into the chair's velvet armrests. His eyes never left mine, his smile never wavering as he began to move, his hips a blur as he fucked me with a ferocity that was both terrifying and exhilarating. The pain was a stark reminder of the reality of the situation, but the pleasure that followed was like nothing I had ever felt before.
Sphere's movements grew more erratic, his breathing ragged as he claimed my body with an intensity that was almost animalistic. I could feel every inch of him, his girth stretching me to the point of pain, his length hitting deep within me in a way that had me crying out with each thrust. His eyes searched mine, the madness in them now a wild, primal hunger that seemed to devour everything in its path.
The pain grew with every stroke, each thrust hitting a spot that had me seeing stars. My cries grew louder, my body shaking with the effort of holding on to my sanity. I could feel the tears streaming down my cheeks, my nails digging deep into the chair's armrests. And yet, amidst the pain, there was a twisted pleasure that grew with every beat of my racing heart.
Sphere's rhythm grew erratic, his movements more frenzied as he approached his peak. His eyes remained locked on mine, the madness in them swirling like a vortex, threatening to pull me under. And then, with a final, powerful thrust, he came inside me, his eyes rolling back in his head as he released a guttural growl. The sensation sent me over the edge as well, my body spasming around his, my own climax ripping through me like a tornado, leaving me gasping for air.
As the aftershocks of pleasure subsided, the pain grew more pronounced, the reality of what had just happened crashing down on me like a ton of bricks. I tried to push him off, my voice a hoarse whisper of protest, but he was too heavy, his weight pinning me to the chair.
Sphere's eyes rolled back in his head, a low moan escaping his lips as he collapsed against me, his chest heaving with the effort of his climax. For a brief moment, the madness receded, and I saw a glimpse of something almost human, something vulnerable. But it was gone as quickly as it had come, replaced by a cold, calculating stare that sent a shiver down my spine.
He leaned in closer, his mouth hovering just above mine. "You're mine," he murmured, his voice thick with satisfaction. "Mine to do with as I please." His hand slid up to my neck, his thumb pressing against my pulse, a silent reminder of his power over me. I tried to push him away, my strength drained from the intensity of what had just transpired, but his grip was unyielding.
With a sudden, brutal force, he pushed his hand over my mouth, stifling my screams as he climbed off the chair. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a handkerchief, a sinister grin playing at his lips as he moved to tie it around my eyes. The fabric was cold and rough against my skin, the darkness enveloping me like a second layer of fear.
"Sleep, Y/N"
My vision turns black, the handkerchief tight around my eyes, the fabric scratchy against my skin. I can feel Sphere's breath against my neck, his grip on my wrists tightening as he secures them behind my back. My heart races, the reality of what's happening setting in, my fear turning into a cold, hard knot in my stomach.
He stands me up, his hand guiding me to the center of the room. The floor feels cold and unforgiving beneath my bare feet, a stark contrast to the warmth of the chair. His voice is a low murmur in my ear, the words lost in the cacophony of my panic-filled thoughts.
Sphere's hand moves from my waist to the back of my neck, his grip firm and unyielding. I feel his other hand lift, the air around me charged with the anticipation of impact. And then, with a swift, brutal motion, he slams the palm of his hand against the side of my head, the sound echoing through the room like a gunshot.
Darling masturbating not realizing Pyrok is in the room watching her.
Cw: NSFW MDNI 18+
If you didn’t see him before, you sure do now since he’s sitting right on top of the headboard perched to watch you work your magic. Don’t worry he’ll assist with cleanup duty like the darling doll he is. After you cum, in a flash he’s between your legs to reap the fruits of your labor.
Though he may go overboard and eat you out repeatedly, after all he’s a glutton at heart. Plus he’s an overachiever who thinks one orgasm isn’t enough to please his mate. His feelers would be thrashing inside your juicy hole till you’re drenched n boneless. Without so much of a thought inside that pretty head of yours.
jester x gn!reader this has been a wip for monthssss. i'm not sure what i want to do with this character but here is my boy!! jingle miserably across the floor boy</3
———
CW: mentions of death, yandere themes, kinda angst because the jester is sooo sad and so starved of attention, no use of y/n, excuse all the historical inaccuracies i am not versed in jesters;_;
Standing in the corner the room, unsure of what to do with himself, he looked on. Currently, boldness wasn't an option and his passion for bringing joy was steadily atrophying. Still, he observed innocently, curiously— not with intent. He wasn't a threat.
Sometimes, only sometimes, when the darkness shrouded his thoughts, he wished you would decide to see him. You would look him in the eyes and see the affection he could give you, you'd gorge yourself on it until you were satiated and even then, he'd give you more.
'Look. Look at me.' He pleaded quietly, barely letting out a squeak. 'Look. Look and don't be afraid.' A broken whimper. 'Please.'
A shadow flickered in your peripheral vision. You snapped your head around, a surge of adrenaline coursing through your veins.
Nothing.
You were just tired. How silly of you to worry. A chuckle followed your sigh of relief, the belief of being alone letting you come back to your previous duties, undisturbed. He stood mere inches from your face, his bent over body staring into your eyes. The frenzied grin on his face growing impossibly wide. You looked.
While wandering through a small antique shop, amongst the colourful vases and books far beyond their prime, you spotted a painting. Its frame was covered in dust and the price was comically small for the amount of work that it took to create the piece of art.
You asked the owner about it and he began to spin a story of a jester, pining for the king's daughter, that was rejected by the princess. For fear of being forgotten by others, like he had been forgotten by his love, he began performing for a pittance just to get himself out there.
Unfortunately, he received no recognition. At this point he was living off of scraps, so to survive, he decided to borrow money and fell into debt, so severe that with his last savings he bought painting supplies and after finishing the self portrait, as the final attempt at securing his remembrance, was murdered by con-men he'd borrowed the money from. Unfortunately for him, the soul he possessed was transferred into the art work you were looking at.
Spooky.
When you hauled the painting into your apartment you weren't sure where to put it and so you rested it against the wardrobe in your bedroom, making hanging it, a problem for future you.
And so, months passed. Whenever you would remember that it still hadn't been hung you would make a mental note to come up with an idea for where to put it and then promptly you'd forget about its existence. The jester wasn't too pleased by your decision to completely ignore him. He was sure that all these years of being ignored and effectively forgotten, were a punishment for his pathological need for recognition. After you saw him, he knew, you were the salvation, he deserved to be revered and you were the one the one destined for him.
He didn't have much experience as an active ghost and there wasn't anyone who could explain to him the whole being-dead-and-haunting-an-object thing so he tried to manage on his own. When he was being displayed in the museum all these years ago, he discovered that being hung up gave him a visible form. After scaring the guard half to death he would only get out of the painting at night to stretch his legs and return to it at dawn.
…
You were admiring your work, standing proudly in front of the somewhat crooked painting hanging on the wall, you picked the wall least subject to the sun as you weren't sure what its effect would be on the piece of art. When you bent over to pick up the tools you were just using a strangely melodic voice greeted you. You shot up and was suddenly standing face to face with a man that looked to be of the years gone by. He tilted his head and the bells on his jester hat jingled— jester hat!?
"Oh I'm so glad to meet you my liege!" He clasped his hands together stepping closer towards you. The darkness in his eyes making you back off instinctively, colliding with the wall, the hammer still in your hand. Feeling the thrill of seeing the fear in your eyes, he curtsied. "I—" he emphasised "am the royal court jester of your estate. Always—" he put his hand out with a theatrical flare "at your disposal." Finishing off his introduction he gave a bow. While you were still mortified he began wandering around your apartment.
You snapped out of your stupor and went after him. He was looking out of your kitchen window, admiring the view of the world he was completely foreign to. With the wonder you've only seen in children, he looked on and in that moment you felt as if it would be cruel (or rather, impossible) to just kick him to the streets.
He looked back at you, his semi-transparent form letting a few rays of sun pass through his body. The radiance made him look like an angel and when he smiled, your knees almost buckled and for the first time— you really saw him.
The Young Pirate Apprentice is Bewitched by the Local!
Eventual Romance!Buggy x Reader
Summary: Y/n is a local girl who ends up joining the Roger Pirates.
A/n: This is a set up for a slow burn romance between Buggy and Y/n. CW, no romance just yet
Part I • Series Masterlist
Sitting at the cliffs edge, leaning back onto your palms, you watched the twilight view plunge into the ocean horizon. The dark night sky, beginning to drape over the sky. Despite the strong breezes, the humid summer air seems to dwell.
You lay flat on your back, looking up to the starry sky as you submerge into nature, listening to the cicadas and frogs sing songs. Before you could really take it all in, the loud ringing of the Tavern bell has you sighing in resignation as you slowly sat up, reluctantly pulling yourself away from the comfort of the earth to help your grandfather work.
You steadily walk the familiar path back towards the village where the small shabby Tavern sat. Normally the Tavern was slow paced with vacant stools excluding a couple of regulars that keel over the bar surface.
But before the building even comes into view, you can hear the wildly loud and rambunctious crowd that has seemed to take refuge within the humble business. Sea shanty’s being sung loudly with drunken jolly.
You walked passed a few interesting characters, especially a young boy dressed as a clown. The sight was amusing in its self, but you kept a straight face to avoid any unintended offence. Especially since they look like a bunch of pirates.
Walking right passed the bar you enter the back room where your grandfather rummaged the stock with greater haste and energy than you have seen in a long time.
“My darling girl, I knew buying all this alcohol would come in handy! The towns people called me crazy spending the last of the money for stock, but here we are, a Tavern full with thirsty young men!” Your grandfather cheers in excitement, grabbing more packaged goods from its dusty boxes.
“Grandpa… i thought you bought this for the Marine crew… unlike pirates, they actually pay. Can they even pay?” You press your questions to which your grandfather refuses to look you in the eye. “Grandpa… you can’t take their word for it, you must take an advanced payment.”
“They’re good boys darling, i can tell.” You frail grandfather declares which only makes your resolve harden. Pirate or not, you won’t let anyone push your grandfather around.
Stepping away quickly you exit the back rooms and into the main bar area. “Another pint.” One of the men ordered but you ignore the request and walk straight to the man with a large mustash leaning back casually and comfortably as if he owned the place.
You look down your nose at the man seated before you silently demanding his attention. His curious eyes breaking away from his entourage and setting it on you.
“Captain,” You greet to which the man juts one brow up. “We are grateful that your crew has chosen to celebrate at our humble establishment tonight- but I’m sure you can appreciate that we will require an upfront payment before you drink us dry and stick us with an unpaid bill.
An amused smirk tugs at the corners of the man’s lips. “Aye’ promise ya’ we won’t leave a bill unsettled.” The captain promised, holding a pint up as the crew roared in cheers.
“Oh? And if the Marines were to appear right now you would take the time to settle the bill?” You question making the man hum in thought. “I should think you would sooner run away and leave us, yes?” The man nods along with your reasoning.
“A fine point young one, Rayleigh, be sure to make advance payment would ya?” The man orders, turning his attention back to his entourage, leaving the man you presume is Rayleigh to guide you back to the bar with a heavy sack in tow.
“Here’s an upfront payment of 2 million berries.” Your mouth drops seeing the heavy sack hitting the table. It was far more money than most would ever see in a life time, and far too generous for drinking just one night in the Tavern.
“Sir… that’s… that’s more money than all of our products.” The man smirks, a sense of bemusement tugging at his features.
“You’re an honest girl- take it as an extra reward. It’s rare someone could just waltz up to Captain Roger and reason with him so easily.” Rayleigh compliments making your features grow warm with pride. “And to do it so gracefully too.” A chair goes flying across the room and smashes against the wall. “And I can only hope it will also compensate the damage.” Rayleigh states, quickly leaving the large money sack behind before you changed your mind and demanded more.
You stumble your way back to your grandfather who shakily takes the sack of money. “My word! I knew my granddaughter was impressive, but regardless!” He pulls you in for a one armed hug, excitedly shaking the life changing goldmine.
He shuffles off to the back room, no doubt racing to place his loot into the safe. “Oi! Gimme a beer!” The clown boy demands only making you wrinkle your nose at his poor manners.
“Aren’t you a little young to be drinking?” You question, bemused by the clown boys seething expression.
“I ain’t much younger than you! Just give me the drink damnit!” Before you could even respond, a mature gentleman with a pink headband and a yellow crown came up behind the clown boy and slapped him upside the head.
“You best have some better manners Buggy.” He demands, snatching a half drunken pint from the bar. “Ask the girl properly.”
“I ain’t gonna!” He spits childishly crossing his arms in defiance. “Give me my damn drink!” He demands again which only makes you giggle at his antics.
“Well if you ain’t gonna, then I ain’t gonna neither.” You tease back, darting away from the bar to serve other thirsty pirates around the Tavern, leaving the boy behind with an a gaped mouth and the older gentleman in stitches.
Fascinating. A pretty, elegant girl like you had no problems stooping low to put someone back in their place.
It wasn’t before long that Buggy jumped up on the bar table performing silly entertaining acts which had the crew hooting and hollering in howling laughter. But the real sense of satisfaction set in once he saw your stoic expression contort to a mild smirk at Buggy’s antics. A rush running through Buggy, he felt greater motivation to see you smile.
He so desperately wanted to hear what you laughter sounded like. Was it airy and angelic? Did it match your demeanour? Or was it jarring like a witches cackle, opposing your enamouring appearance?
After a few more rounds of his circus like acts, Buggy sprawled out on the grass where he let the night breeze cool down his overheated figure. His head lulled back, taking in the starry night sky.
“Care for a pint?” You offer, holding out a large wooden cup filled with frothy malt.
“I ain’t thanking’ ya since you took so damn long to serve my drink.” Buggy rasps, snatching the cup and taking a slugging swig of the malty drink only to choke and sputter on the bitter flavour. “Ugh— delicious— my favourite!” He sputters in embarrassment, the tips of his ears pinching in red which has you booming with a loud hearty laughter. Buggy’s stomach fluttered at the sound of your laugh. It was oddly satisfying to hear such boisterous joy coming from someone so prim. He wanted to hear it again. “You have a beautiful laugh…” mutters, his cheeks reddening at the unintentional admission. “Uh- I mean for someone for a face like yours!” His scrambling only makes you laugh more.
It’s been a while since you had a good laugh.
Being stuck in a small town with only adults and old people can make a young girl feel isolated. You never did get to act like a silly child, only ever behaving like a proper young woman, much like the other ladies in your village. But the crew you served tonight acted so young and lively. Their shenanigans were hilarious and endearing. You wished you could be like them. Having wild outrageous adventures, acting silly and having a jolly good time. You especially admired Buggy for being his authentic, unapologetic self. He showed no shame, and no embarrassment in how he looks and acts. You really enjoy the unpredictable excitement that comes with being around him.
“Can I ask why you became a pirate?” Your graceful gaze locks onto Buggy. Your genuine curiosity made Buggy feel nervous to give a good answer, but right now, he didn’t really know why he wanted to become a pirate.
“I wanted to and so I did.” Buggy answered, taking another swig on the ale, his face pinching together in dislike. “Money, power, to be worshiped by all!” He adds theatrically make you smile in humour. He looks back at you, expecting your mockery, or denial but you only nod in understanding. Your cool and composed demeanour sets shivers up his spine.
“I’m jealous of you.” You state plainly making Buggy’s head spin, comparative to you, he doesn’t believe he’s enviable. “I wish I could travel the world like you, eat and drink, party, see sceneries that aren’t the same every night… have fun with people like you…” You whisper, making Buggy’s cheeks warm.
“Yeah? It’s a good thing you’re coming with us.” Buggy rasps, taking a huge gulp from his cup, screwing up his face.
“What?” You ask, confused with Buggy’s statement.
“…That’s why we’re here… to pick you up.” Buggy said, his eyebrow raised.
“I-…. What are you talking about? Are you drunk on 3 sips?”
“No- your grandfather is an old friend of Captains, asked him to take you on as an apprentice. Said his time is coming to an end and wanted to make sure his Granddaughter saw the world, and was looked after.” Buggy states plainly, unsure why he had to explain your life story to you.
“That crazy old man… he was going to ship me off without saying anything?” You question more so to yourself.
“Now that you know- what’re you going to do?”
Standing at the rear deck you wave off to your frail grandfather who only continues to stand on the dock, waving back with unmatched enthusiasm. He continues to wave at you until the Oro Jackson sinks into the horizon.
