homelander | Imagine being the only person whose opinion truly matters to him.
The world worships Homelander. Crowds chant his name, cameras flash, and entire cities breathe easier just knowing he’s watching from the sky. He smiles for them, waves for them, saves them.
But none of it ever feels like enough.
Not unless you’re watching.
Imagine standing in a quiet room high above the city, the distant hum of traffic far below. He’s just returned from another flawless rescue—cape still fluttering slightly, uniform untouched, eyes searching.
Not for danger.
For you.
“Did you see it?” he asks, voice carefully controlled, almost hopeful. “I stopped the plane from crashing. Not a single casualty.”
You hesitate. Maybe you’re tired. Maybe the words don’t come quickly enough. Maybe you simply don’t react the way he expects.
And the change in him is immediate.
The air grows heavy, charged with something unspoken. His smile falters, just for a second, before slipping away entirely. The city lights flicker across his face as disappointment settles in, fragile and terrifying in equal measure.
Imagine the most powerful man in the world stepping closer, uncertainty creeping into his posture.
Then, slowly, he kneels.
Not out of humility.
Out of reverence.
His gloved hands hover near you, as if afraid to touch without permission. When he finally looks up, his expression is raw—eyes shining with unshed tears, desperation barely contained beneath the surface.
“Tell me I’m good,” he whispers, voice trembling with need. “Please.”
The plea hangs in the air, fragile and suffocating.
Because you know he doesn’t just want praise—he needs it. Your approval is the axis on which his entire world spins. Without it, the adoration of millions means nothing.
Imagine him resting his forehead lightly against your hand, seeking comfort like something lost and wounded, despite the unimaginable power he holds.
“I’ll do anything to deserve it,” he murmurs. “Anything you want. Just… don’t look at me like I’ve failed.”
And in that moment, it becomes terrifyingly clear:
boothill doesn’t take the breakup seriously in the way you do. at first it’s just messages you don’t answer. then it turns into a pattern you start recognizing… new numbers, new accounts. he’s testing how many doors you can lock before he decides none of them can keep him away from you. when you block him everywhere, it doesn’t stop anything. it just delays him. he shows up again in different forms, like the internet is something he can keep rerouting through.
he’ll send voice messages from accounts you don’t recognize. he’ll switch tone mid-thread like he’s trying different versions of himself until one gets a response out of you. sometimes it’s casual, sometimes it’s annoyed, sometimes it’s like nothing happened at all and you’re the one being weird for not replying. it’s always there though. always more messages than you can realistically read.
you start muting him, blocking him, ignoring everything. and still, it keeps coming. it’s not even always emotional. sometimes it’s just updates about his day, random thoughts, things he knows you’d recognize as “for you.” he’s refusing to accept that there’s a version of your life where he’s not constantly talking into it.
you try to confront him once it gets too much. you tell him to stop. properly, clearly. he listens… but only long enough to respond like you’re exaggerating the situation. he laughs a little and says something like you always do this, you get overwhelmed and shut people out and then you’ll come back when you’re done being like this.
even after that, nothing really changes. it just shifts platforms again. new accounts, new numbers, new ways in. blocking boothill doesn’t remove him from your life, and he’ll keep reminding you of it.
mydeimos doesn’t react to the breakup like it’s something that changed his access to you. it’s more like he just stops acknowledging that “after him” is supposed to mean anything. you notice it in the absence of people first. guys you were talking to, even casually, just… stop showing up. they don’t tell you what happened. they don’t argue with you. they just go quiet, or vanish from your orbit completely.
at first you think it’s coincidence. bad timing. people being flaky. then it keeps happening in a pattern you can’t ignore, but also can’t prove. anyone who gets close to you after him either backs off suddenly or acts like they don’t want to be involved in your life at all. and it’s never explained.
you only start understanding something is wrong when you realize it’s not just dating or flirting or anything obvious. it’s anyone. coworkers acting uncomfortable. mutuals avoiding you. people you don’t even remember mentioning him to suddenly treating you differently.
when it finally clicks and you confront him, he just looks at you like you’re slow to catch up. like this was always going to be the outcome and you’re only now noticing the structure of it. when you ask him directly if he’s involved, he doesn’t say yes immediately. he just asks why it matters if it’s already working.
he tells you, very calmly, that you keep putting yourself in situations where people get close enough to “be a problem.” it’s not about him interfering, it’s about you creating conditions that require interference. it doesn’t sound like anger. it sounds like correction. he’s explaining something you should’ve already understood about how things work now.
when you push back, when you actually get upset and tell mydei to stop, that’s when the tone changes. only slightly. he tells you not to make him repeat himself. a warning that he’s getting tired of explaining rules you keep ignoring.
phainon doesn’t take the breakup like a clean ending. it turns into something he keeps trying to reopen. at first it’s messages you don’t answer, then calls you ignore, then showing up near places you go like he’s trying to catch you in a moment where you’ll “finally be normal about it.” when you don’t respond, he escalates in a way that feels less aggressive and more… emotionally exhausting. he can’t accept silence as an answer, so he fills it with himself.
he shows up at your door eventually. he’s been waiting for the moment you’d eventually have to open it. when you do, he’s already emotional in a way that makes the whole situation harder to deal with than it should be. he’s not yelling. he’s upset, visibly. he’s been holding it in for too long and decided your doorstep is where it finally comes out. he talks like you’re the one who left without explaining anything, even if you did.
when you don’t let him in, he doesn’t force it. he just stays there long enough that it becomes uncomfortable. like time is supposed to make you change your mind. if he stands there long enough, the situation will eventually correct itself.
he starts involving other people. your friends. people around you start getting messages from him, long ones, emotional ones, half apology and half confusion. he’s trying to recruit witnesses for a version of the breakup where he isn’t the one being cut off. he talks to them like they’re supposed to understand him, like they have access to a missing piece of you that he needs translated.
you find out phainon has been showing up at your building even when you’re not home. not breaking in, not doing anything obvious, just sitting outside or lingering nearby like he’s trying to “be there when you’re ready.” and sometimes he leaves things. small, harmless-looking things that are always timed in a way that feels too intentional to be random. little reminders that he can find your space even when you’re not offering it.
you confront him, and he just looks tired. he’s been waiting for you to catch up to a version of events he already fully believes in. when you tell him it needs to stop, he doesn’t argue loudly. he just says something like he doesn’t know how to disappear from your life when you’re still in his head all the time.
anaxa doesn’t react to the breakup emotionally. it turns into something more controlled than that. at first it’s just small disruptions you try to ignore. things not saving properly, accounts getting locked at the worst times, files corrupting right when you need them. nothing you can directly trace, nothing obvious enough to prove anything, just enough to make your day slightly harder every time you try to move on without him.
you start noticing it’s not random though. it follows your attempts to distance yourself. every time you try to cut contact fully, something important suddenly stops working in your life. then he reappears like nothing happened, calm as ever, acting like a normal conversation is still possible between you two. the outside chaos has nothing to do with him at all.
you finally confront him and anaxa just listens first, like he’s waiting for you to finish saying something he already accounted for. then he starts reframing it. he talks about how unstable things have been for you lately, how stressful your environment is, how easy it is for people to misinterpret patterns when they’re overwhelmed. he never says he did anything, he just makes it sound like your life is already fragile enough that things like this would naturally happen.
after that conversation, the problems don’t stop, but feel more intentional in timing. right after arguments. right after you try to assert distance again. your reactions themselves are being folded into the pattern.
you try blocking him, cutting him off completely, changing everything you can think of. nothing really holds for long. access gets restored somewhere, something resets, something important goes wrong at the exact moment you feel like you’ve finally gained a bit of control back.
anaxagoras never seems surprised by your resistance. everything you try to do to escape him is already something he expected you to try.
blade doesn’t really “stay in your life” after the breakup in a normal sense. it feels more like he never fully leaves the edges of it. you start noticing him in places that don’t make sense at first. far enough away that you can’t prove it’s him, close enough that you start doubting your own memory of what you saw. a figure across the street. someone standing where no one was a second ago. a presence that disappears when you look directly at it.
there are no messages, no calls, nothing you can block or report… just the feeling that you’re being observed in moments that are usually private. walking home, waiting alone, standing in quiet spaces where there shouldn’t be anyone paying attention to you at all. every time you turn your head too quickly, there’s nothing there. you’re always a second too late.
when you try to confront it, there’s nothing to actually confront. you ask people if they’ve seen anyone around you, and they haven’t. you check cameras, routes, timing, anything you can think of. it never lines up cleanly enough to confirm. it starts making you feel ridiculous for even thinking about it, which only makes you notice it more.
there are the moments that don’t feel like coincidence anymore. places you definitely didn’t tell anyone about, but feel wrong the moment you arrive because something about it already feels “seen.” things slightly out of place when you get home. small evidence that someone was there and left before you could catch up to them.
if you ever do finally see blade clearly, it’s brief. never a full conversation. never a proper encounter. just enough for your stomach to drop before he’s gone again, like he only exists in passing moments that are too short to react to properly.
it just keeps happening until you start adjusting your own life around the idea that you might never actually be alone in it again.
Note: I’ve gotten a few requests since my first TFC post, and I’m excited to write for them!! I will do my best to get to them in time. I’ve never written for some of these things before, but I’ll do my best to be accurate to the requests! <3
━━━━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊ ⋆ ━━━━━━
Summary:
Although you’ve only known Pierrot for a couple of months, you find yourself falling for him.
You also come to find out that he fell for you hard ages ago. He’s driving himself crazy by holding back his confession.
You had already noticed he had somewhat obsessive tendencies, but you’re about to see just how much the thought of you has occupied his mind.
Pairing: Pierrot x Reader [The Freak Circus]
Warnings: Obsessive Behavior [canon typical]
Masterlist Post
━━━━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊ ⋆ ━━━━━━
You stood behind the register, begrudgingly working your monotonous little café job as the only employee in the damned building. The other person that was supposed to be there to help you called in with some mysterious illness, and your boss had an unexpected, unmissable appointment pop up halfway through the final part of your evening shift. At least the daily rushes were over, or else you may have lost your mind then and there. You were thankfully able to get through most of it with your head still attached to your shoulders. Only one more hour to go and you’d be home free.
As the flow of customers had slowed, you finally had a chance to do some tidying up; wiping down counters that coffee had been spilled on, cleaning parts of the most used machines, refilling syrups and beans, etcetera. Halfway through your tidying, you heard the familiar chime of the door bell warn you of an incoming customer. You inwardly groaned at the interruption to your momentary reprieve, tossing the paper towels you had been using to wipe up the cleaning spray you had used on the countertops before returning to your place at the register,
“Welcome in, how can I help you?” You asked as cheerily as you could manage in your exhaustion, forcing a tired smile onto your face. As the customer began to speak, your ears instead picked up on a muffled noise. It sounded like it was coming from out front…
You leaned to the side slightly to see around the customer in front of you, looking out the large windows of the shop to see something that immediately wiped your exhaustion away and woke your nerves up in seconds; Pierrot stood out on the sidewalk, flyers in hand, with an angry passerby shouting and advancing into his personal space threateningly. The poor Pierrot backed away, free hand up in surrender since he couldn’t speak in front of others – you being the exception, only when you two were alone – but the aggressor refused to stop. People on the streets had either stopped to stare or quickened their pace as things escalated quickly.
You had known the Pierrot for a while now. He had unfortunately been in an all too similar situation during your first chance encounter; some belligerent man on the street began to shout at him, eventually escalating to slapping the poor entertainer. You had been the one to step in – literally, stepping between the two – and shoo the man off. Since then, you hadn’t gone a day without seeing or running into him someplace. You came to find he was actually rather sugary sweet, just a man trying to do his job. You had even visited the circus a few times using the special red ticket he had given you. His act was macabre, the first you had come to see involving some mannequin with rather realistic blood packets that exploded upon impact, or so you thought that’s how it was done. Unique, if not a little gore heavy. Despite that, you always enjoyed your conversations with the Pierrot afterward, and he seemed to enjoy having your company for a while, whether it be after a performance or when you two bump into one another on the streets.
Knowing Pierrot wouldn’t stand up for himself in such a public area, especially with the whole silent act, you rushed out from behind the counter and stomped to the front door. The little bell chimed as you flung the door it hung in front of open, catching both Pierrot and the man’s attention. The latter seemed confused as he turned to face you, but the former was more surprised than anything, maybe even a little relieved. You walked around Pierrot to stand between him and the man, mirroring your first meeting with the Pierrot almost perfectly, and began to speak,
“Hey, hey! Who do you think you are?”
“Who do I think I am?? I’m a concerned member of this community, and I want this freak and his freaky circus outta town! Don’t you know they’re the reason people are going missing??”
“Oh please. You people just don’t know a unique act when you see it. They’re just here doing their job, so leave Pierrot and the circus alone, or-”
“Doing their job?? Well, I dunno what kinda job has crazy weirdos walking around nice towns in weird fuckin’ clothes like this is some sorta larp roleplay stuff! It’s disturbing, honestly!”
“Their acts are literally meant to be disturbing and weird. Now I have to ask you to leave café property or else I’m-”
“Or else? OR ELSE?? What’re ya gonna do, girlie? Call the cops on me? It’s that freak you better be callin’ the cops on-”
As the belligerence went on, you turned your body halfway to look up at Pierrot, “Geez, people… Are you alright-” but your voice caught in your throat as you saw the state of the poor man; blood dribbled from a slash above his eyebrow, his white hair tousled with a few drops of blood in it. His sleeves were ripped in places, and the ruffle collar he wore was ripped nearly in half, as if it had been used to grab and tug him around violently. Your blood boiled as you observed every detail of every bit of violence he had endured before you had appeared. Looking into his eyes, you saw the concern in them, and your heart broke at how helpless he truly was in these situations he all too often found himself in…
“Oh, Pierrot… Go inside, go to the back, and shut the door so no one bothers you. I’ll deal with this-”
“HEY!!”
You flinched at the excessive volume, anger returning as you turned back to the aggressor. Before you could speak, you felt a large hand on your shoulder. You looked up to see Pierrot shaking his head, as if asking you not to do this. You simply smiled, “Don’t worry, this is nothin’ in customer service~.” You half-joked, gently shooing him inside. Thank god he did as you said, your eyes following him as he hurried inside and into the back room. However, you saw him peeking around the door to keep his eyes on you. Well… Good enough, you supposed.
“I can’t believe you’re defending that monster! You don’t know what you’re doing-”
“Sir,” You sternly began, turning to fully face the man in front of you once more, “leave now before the police get involved. The station is just a few blocks away, they could be here in seconds.”
Your threat made him laugh, “Oh, you’re done, little girl…” He mumbled, raising a fist to strike at you with, but he was sloppy and gave you way too much time to react. You easily stepped – or maybe more accurately, you stumbled – back to avoid the attack, raising your foot to easily kick the man in the gut and knock him straight onto his ass. You nearly lost your balance, but were able to steady yourself soon after. Just as he was moving to get up, a sharp, loud, crackling sound stopped him in his tracks. His expression became even angrier as his eyes landed on the taser you now held in your hand, thumb on the trigger as you released it, turning the device off.
No words were exchanged – your glare and weapon at the ready said plenty – as you pulled your phone out of your pocket and dialed the police. As you had threatened, they were at the scene within a couple of minutes, sirens blaring and lights flashing. They parked, apprehended the man, and you gave them your statement. They asked for the security footage from the café to be delivered to them as soon as possible, to which you said your boss would have to get them tomorrow. With that, the man was hauled off by the police, leaving you to come down from the excitement.
With a sigh, adrenaline beginning to wane, you walked back into your workplace, only to see customers leaning close to one another and whispering as they glanced up at you and the door to the back room. With a small huff, you reluctantly made a call that might get you written up tomorrow; “Alright everyone! I’m sorry, but I’m gonna have to close up shop for the day. Sorry you all had to see that. Thank you for your understanding and have a good day.”
The people in the shop, especially the few who stood in line waiting to be served, disappointedly began to file out of the small public seating area. Some grumbled discontently, others whispered to one another about Pierrot and how you could protect someone like that, and others yet simply glared at you before walking out. Wow, this circus’ image was worse than you first thought. When the shop was cleared of the public, you shut the door, locked up, and brought all the blinds on the windows down.
As you finished shutting everything down, you heaved out a sigh. Had you made the right decision in doing that? Both in shutting down shop for the day, as well as so openly defending Pierrot while on the job? Once you glanced behind the counter, seeing the poor man you had rescued peeking out at you from behind the doorway to the break room, you knew the answer was yes. Regardless of whether you may be written up for it later, you had done the right thing.
You smiled gently, genuinely, as you turned and made your way towards the back of the shop. Pierrot was quick to duck out of sight as you did. You heard a chair scraping against the hard floor before you entered the small break room, eyes landing on Pierrot as he sat curtly at the small table on the far end of the room.
“Pierrot~.” You said in somewhat of a sing-song tone, making the nervous man jump slightly. The bells on his hat jingled with his movement as his head slowly turned to look up at you. Walking up to him, you sat in the chair next to his, turning it to face him. Pierrot sat with his arms on the table, hands fidgeting with one another. The injured side of his face was turned away just enough to hide the wound from you. As you looked into his eyes, you wondered what he was feeling. Anxious? Upset? Scared?
“Oh, hun… Face me? Please?” You asked in a much more hushed tone. Your soft voice seemed to entice him – you could see the way his eyes darted towards and away from you rapidly as if he was debating whether he should obey – but he ultimately shook his head lightly. Your brows furrowed on your otherwise soft expression,
“C’mon, I need to see the damage. I already saw you bleeding, so there’s no point hiding it from me.” As you spoke, your hands came up to cup his face and your tone became slightly firmer. You could feel his skin heat up as you slowly, gently, turned his head to face you properly. You finally got a good look at his face; the cut wasn’t terribly deep, but still deep enough to bleed like a motherfucker, especially in such a vascular area. Blood still wept from the wound when his expression changed, following the preexisting trail over his eyebrow, to his eye, and down his cheek and jaw. Thankfully, the dark nature of his costume meant you could barely see the places blood had pooled and stained.
“Oh, Pierrot…” You mumbled as you stood and took a step closer to the Pierrot, gently turning his face to get a better angle of the wound. You felt him flush further at your closeness, but paid it no mind, “Hold on…” You walked briskly to the other side of the room, unlocking your locker and grabbing a full first aid kit before making your way back to Pierrot. You opened it on the table, setting out a selection of items; alcohol wipes, medical tape, cotton pads, antibacterial cream, and the largest bandage in the kit.
“Hold still, ‘kay? This’ll probably sting.” You warned before you got to work. The cotton pads were gently pat against his skin, freeing his pretty face of the blood that marred it. You were extra attentive when it came to the area around the wound in fear it would hurt him. However, Pierrot didn’t even flinch as your hands worked to fix him up. Once he was cleaned up, you opened an alcohol pad and lightly swiped it over the wound to thoroughly disinfect the area. You noticed how he shivered at the coolness of the alcohol evaporating on his skin, as you doubted it really stung with how high you had come to realize his pain tolerance was. Finally, you unwrapped the bandage, applied a generous amount of cream to it, and secured it over the wound with medical tape. All the while, Pierrot had been the best patient. It honestly somewhat surprised you how perfectly still he had been.
Taking a small step back, you grinned at your handiwork, “There ya go, big guy! I did my best, but it’s probably not the greatest. You should change it tomorrow morning to make sure it’s not getting infected, okay?” You prompted as you turned to pack up the medical supplies, seeing Pierrot nod out of the corner of your eye.
“Thank you, my lady…” He said quietly, voice slightly gravely due to his constant act of silence. You found the way his typically quiet tone and sweet way of talking juxtaposed his intimidating stature cute. When he first spoke to you, you would have never expected that voice to come out of him, but you had grown used to it over the couple of months you had known the guy. He only ever spoke to you in private – which didn’t happen to be terribly often, sadly – but you found yourself wishing he’d speak more often.
“Don’t mention it. You would’ve done it for me.” You waved it off, as if it was a daily occurrence. Your feet carried you back to your locker to put the kit away. As you turned back around, you found yourself face-to-chest with Pierrot, having to crane your neck slightly to look up at him. The smile you had come to commonly associate him with had returned to his face,
“You’re… Far too good to someone like me, my lady… You shouldn’t feel that you have put yourself in harm’s way like you did.”
“Pierrot, I know damn well how you get pushed around by people like that.” You pointed your finger into his chest to accentuate your point, making your way around the man and into the other room in the back. He was quick to obediently follow right on your heels as you went on, “I haven’t forgotten how we met, and I bet you haven’t either. I can’t just watch you getting bullied like that, especially when you get hurt like this and when I know how sweet you are. I just wish those bastards would take a second to realize their cryptid skepticism bullshit is baloney…”
“You… You think I’m… sweet…?” His voice came from behind you, soft and fragile. When you looked back at him, you saw his hands fidgeting with his gloves, head angled downward in a bashful way. God, how could such a physically imposing guy like him be so utterly sweet??
“Hun, you’re about as sweet as the milkshakes you always order.” You grinned up at Pierrot as you untied and took off your apron. You hung it up before fishing around in your pocket, finding your ring of keys and opening the back door of the shop. Pierrot followed as you walked out, waiting for you to continue as you locked the door as he wrung his hands together. You began once more as you walked side by side to your apartment,
“You don’t deserve a fraction of the harassment you get. If anything, Harlequin should get to be the one who deals with these psychos. Honestly, it makes me so angry to see you being treated like that… Some people are just so afraid of the stupidest thing, like people they don’t know dressed up as something they don’t understand. Ridiculous.” You looked away from the man for a moment and smiled, “But I know you. I like you and the way you dress, the circus and your performances… They just don’t know what they’re missing out on~.”
As you turned back around, you couldn’t see how Pierrot’s face went completely beet red, hiding in his gloved hands as he walked behind you. You knew you wouldn’t get a response in a public place like on your way to your apartment, but you kinda liked flustering the man while he was unable to say anything back. His reactions were adorable, after all. You could tell he was flustered even without seeing it; his eyes alone always gave so much away, and he could be incredibly predictable when you showered him with praise and sweet words. Although those who don’t know him may call him mysterious or strange, you could think of no better word to describe him than adorable.
It didn’t take long to get back to your apartment. Pierrot was quick to snatch your keys away from you and unlock your door, opening it and standing aside with that smile of his as he motioned you inside with his arm. ‘Ladies first,’ you knew he was implying. You smiled and walked a few steps into the apartment,
“D’aw, aren’t you such a gentleman? Thank you, dearest Pierrot~.” You turned and offered a mock courtesy as thanks, to which he happily played along by bowing deeply, one hand to his heart and the other tucked politely behind his back. He was always doing the littlest things for you, and you thought it was just the cutest thing, especially when he smiled at you so sweetly while doing so. You loved playing it up with him, especially since he’d always return it with enthusiasm.
“You’re very welcome, my lady.” He gladly chimed as he walked into your apartment and closed the door behind him, able to speak again now that the two of you were sufficiently alone. As he turned to face you, the hand behind his back came to his front, surprising you with a bouquet of hand crafted paper roses. They were all the same deep red as his outfit, with one (color) rose standing out in the middle of them. This one was fuller than the rest, crafted with maybe double the paper petals as the others in the bunch so it truly stood out.
A hand quickly came up to cover your mouth in surprise before you reached out to take the gift. As you pulled them closer, you noticed they smelled somewhat of iron, though you were quick to brush it off as you were overtaken with the kindness of the gesture, “What-?! Pierrot, you charmer!! This is way too sweet, you really shouldn’t have…” Your heart skipped multiple beats as your eyes scanned every detail of every flower. You could tell how much effort and thought he put into each one, each stem, each leaf and petal. Now it was your turn to be the flustered one. Even the smallest of his sweet gifts made you just a little flustered, as you had never been given so many thoughtful gifts by someone before… It made you feel special…
Snapping out of your stupor, you quickly made your way to the kitchen in search of a vessel to hold the precious flowers in. You flung cabinets open and slammed them shut again rather carelessly, digging around and looking behind old or forgotten items in your search. All the while, you ever so carefully held the bouquet in your other arm, mindful to the utmost degree of how you moved so you wouldn’t crush even a single edge of a single petal.
Pierrot found himself swooning as he watched you rushed about. How couldn’t he?? The most perfect, most wonderful, sweetest person in his world was excited about receiving his gift… He was over the moon! His eyes tracked every little movement you made, every microexpression that crossed your face. He committed every little bit of you and your mannerisms to memory.
A light, hollow thunk! not far from him brought him back to reality, looking over to see you had placed a glass vase on the countertop and slid the bouquet of paper roses into it, adjusting it just so with careful hands. He looked to the side of it, seeing a smaller glass with the other roses he had brought to you over his couple of months of seeing and visiting you, along with the trinkets he had gifted you on other occasions. Redness coated his face yet again; you had kept everything he gave you…! Pierrot’s heart thrummed heavily against his ribcage, as if it were begging to be released. You truly were the world to him, and he only hoped you felt the same…
“Pierrot.”
He could only hum in response to your voice from within his own thoughts. He was only truly brought back to Earth when he felt your hand on his arm, gently shaking him to get his attention. He shook his obsessive thoughts away in favor of looking down at you, seeing the concern on your face. He nearly panicked in response, bending down slightly and grabbing your shoulders,
“My lady, what’s wrong?? What’s that look for?? Is that creep from earlier still on your mind? You don’t have to worry about him anymore, I’ll take care of it-”
“No, it’s not that…” You quietly replied. Reaching your hand up, your fingers oh so lightly traced over the bandage you had put over his wound earlier. The tape and adhesive of the bandage itself had both already begun to come loose, one corner already completely detached from his face.
“Lemme try and properly bandage it for you, this one’s already coming off.” You more so gently demanded rather than asked. Your hand in his, you pulled Pierrot into your room and sat him at the edge of your bed. His weight sunk into the mattress, creating a rather steep dip. His height and sheer muscle tone made him a lot heavier than he looked.
You walked over to and opened up your closet, reaching up on your toes to grab yet another stashed first aid kit. With it in hand, you returned to Pierrot’s side. He cocked a brow, “How many of those do you have stashed about, my lady? Surely you don’t injure yourself so often.”
You grinned, huffing a breathy laugh in response, “No, I just like to have them in case of an emergency. One can never be too safe.” You responded, grabbing the same items you had earlier and setting them out, “But as often as you get hurt, im gonna have to make sure I keep them better stocked.” You half-joked. As you situated yourself standing between Pierrot’s legs, you turned your focus to the bandage that was slowly continuing to peel off of his face.
You were completely oblivious to how Pierrot’s face was yet again set aflame by your proximity while you worked, especially by the specific place you had decided to stand. His hands, previously having been sat curtly in his lap, now hovered in the air on either side of you. He wasn’t entirely sure what to do with them, but god, could he imagine…
The poor Pierrot’s mind quickly began wandering to places deep in his mind where only thoughts of you lived. Oh, how he wished he could lay his hands on your waist or hips as you worked… To have his claws gently digging into your shirt, into your skin, being able to feel just how supple and soft your form is beneath his touch… The thought alone sent bursts of electricity through him.
How he’d do anything – beg, plead, bargain – to be able to rest his head against the crook of your neck, to take in your delicate scent and to taste your tender flesh. And god, how he’d give anything in the world to be given the honor – the privilege – of leaving his mark on your gorgeous skin… To let his teeth sink into your neck just enough to make you bleed, to lap his tongue over the wound and taste your undoubtedly sweet blood, and then to watch over the days as it bruised and healed. He’d feel much better letting you walk around the circus if you had his mark on your body…
“All done!”
Your sweet voice chimed before he could sink into even more depraved thoughts. Pierrot’s wide eyes darted up to meet yours as you looked down at him. He could feel the pressure of a new bandage and tape over his wound as he gradually regained his senses after his trip through lala land.
“Uhm… Pierrot?” You said in a questioning tone, making the man look up. You were still oh so close to him, tantalizingly so. His hands could easily reach anywhere and everywhere he so desired. He wondered to himself why you hadn’t moved away yet?
“Your, uhm… Your hands…”
Huh? Oh…
Oh-
A quick glance down at his own hands revealed they were wrapped firmly around your waist. His claws dug ever so slightly into your shirt, just enough for you to feel their pointed tips through the fabric. Just as he had imagined. Oops.
Pierrot immediately broke into a nervous sweat. Uh-oh… Had he crossed a line? How could he have acted on his thoughts without even realizing it?? God, he desperately hoped you wouldn’t think he was some sort of creep trying to make a move on you without your permission. That would be the last thing in the world he ever wanted you to think of him…
The poor man flinched when he felt your soft, warm hands come to lay atop his much larger, colder ones. His fingers flexed slightly, eliciting a choked giggle from you. “Your claws tickle a bit…” You mumbled. His grip loosened as he went to take his hands away in a hurry, but your own kept them where they sat. Your eyes met his as he looked up at you, uncertainty behind the way he looked at you. The poor thing… So quiet, so shy, so cute…
“You can, uh… Stay right where you are, if you want…” Your quiet voice spoke, your own nerves hiding behind your tone. Well, as long as he was being forward, you decided you may as well be, too. Your hands slowly slid up to his wrists, over his arms, to his shoulders, all the while you could feel each chill it sent through the Pierrot. Your touch occasionally lingered a bit here and there before finally settling on either side of his face, cupping his cheeks with a sweetness you assumed he had never felt before. You watched as his pupils went wide, fixated on your face as his hands began to tremble. Your thumbs gently rubbed across his cheeks, feeling the way they warmed as blood rushed to his face and tinged his white skin – mask? Makeup? – with a red-pink hue. Adorable… Absolutely adorable.
At his height, even as he sat on your bed, he was only a handful of inches shorter than you. As such, when he kept unconsciously leaning towards you without you stopping him, his chin came to rest on your chest. It was as if you had a gravitational pull that so sweetly lured him closer. Goodness, how were you supposed to say no to that face… Sure he was pretty much putty in your hands, you squished his face lightly. All the while, his eyes never left your face, eyelids fluttering just slightly shut as he began to relax. He was so intently focused on you and you alone. His light, his world, his everything…
Suddenly, as his tremors came to a head, Pierrot flung himself off the bed and to his knees. The sheer force with which they hit the hard floors made you jump, his hands sliding down from your waist to your legs to grip at your calves and shins, hands large enough to nearly wrap all the way around them. His posture slipped down into a deep bow as if he were worshipping you, groveling before a goddess about to smite him,
“Please, my lady…! I- I can’t help myself when you look at me like that- with those soft, sweet eyes… When- when you touch me like that, so full of care… Please, you have to tell me-” He begged breathlessly, every bit of him shaking as if he was holding back from something. He sat there for a moment, chest heaving with effort, before his head slowly lifted to look up at you. His expression was the very definition of desperation; eyes clouded with adoration, want, need, need need NEED-
Pierrot suddenly felt his body lighting on fire, tingling with electricity, his heart beating so incredibly fast and forcefully that he could feel it throughout every bone and muscle fiber in his body. He couldn’t help but stare as his senses were overtaken by you; you you you, only you, only ever you… Your scent, overpowering and wonderful, filling his nose with pure bliss. The way you looked at him, with such sweet care and attention, and the way he looked back with all the crazed obsession he’d been bottling up. How you felt under his touch, the way it made his entire body tingle in anticipation at the thought of touching you – or you touching him – in any way, shape, or form.
He couldn’t keep holding it back… He’d drive himself mad – to the brink of insanity, and maybe over the edge of it – if he continued trying to stifle his adoration for you… You were like his drug, and he was so hopelessly addicted…
Pierrot suddenly thrust himself to his feet and picked you up in one swift motion, before turning and throwing you down onto your bed. You bounced once before his hands came slamming down on either side of your body, trapping you between him, the bed, and the wall. No escape. His claws dug into the fabric of your comforter and threatened to shred it with ease, but didn’t, not quite at least. You could hear a couple of seams pop, could feel how the fabric was pulled by his weight, but he had a careful sliver of control in his strength. Despite how terrifying it was, you had never felt unsafe around him. And now was no different.
In fact, your body felt maddeningly hot as you stared up at the man that loomed over you. His broad chest and shoulders blocked basically all the light from the room, casting both yourself and him in a deep shadow. His eyes glowed in the lowlight, the soft yellow of his irises that was usually welcoming now feeling like it was boring through your very soul as he looked you over.
“Please…” His voice rasped more than usual between pants, “Tell me… Tell me that you love me, too… I-I don’t think I could go another moment without your love- I’ve held back for these two long months – tried to wait for you – but I’m this close to-…” Pierrot stopped himself. He seemed to choke on his own unspoken words with how he cut himself off.
He remained silent. His eyes continued to look through you, focused like you’d never seen before, like a predator ready to pounce on its prey the moment it tries to run away. Moments passed with no words spoken…
His eyes darted to your hand as it moved, watching intently as you raised it towards him. You gently flattened your palm over his chest, able to feel the way he tensed up, how he held his breath. His heart beat at an impossible pace in his chest, no doubt a cause of his erratic behavior. You turned your attention to his face again and met his eyes once more. There were things you couldn’t quite place going on behind those eyes… You knew he had his strange moments, but this was above all of that…
He had displayed interesting behavior before, not to mention how he was almost certainly inhuman. His claws weren’t sewn into his gloves, his black sclera weren’t tattooed or lenses, nor were his unnaturally colored irises, his teeth were far too sharp and natural looking to be veneers, and you couldn’t find a definitive place where his mask ended and his skin began. It was pretty clear he wasn’t ‘normal.’ Then there was his possessiveness of you, the way you’d seen him every single day without fail, even on your days off, his way of speaking being almost predatory or threatening, but never to you. Yeah, he had issues, and probably was some sort of beast you’d never heard of before.
But still… Even if it had only been a couple months since you met him, he seemed to have some sort of monopoly on your heart already…
Suddenly, your hand on his chest balled into a fist, grasping the front of his costume before pulling him down to meet his lips with yours.
Although you couldn’t see him, you could feel the way the energy shifted; the trembling stopped, his muscles stiffened before relaxing, his hands gripped even tighter at your comforter before releasing. It only took moments for Pierrot to fully relax into you. One arm slipped under your back and the other under your head before he slowly lifted you into him, pressing you firmly against his body. It was almost as if he was trying to become one with you, to meld his soul with yours.
Pierrot’s hands wandered, still holding you against him as they grasped and released, moved, grasped and released, over and over, as if he couldn’t get you close enough to himself. His kiss wavered between desperate, untrained, eager, and insecure, timid, and unsure. It was as if he was battling with two sides of himself, neither and both wanting to take you for their own at the same time. You couldn’t help but smile into the kiss, arms coming up to wrap around Pierrot’s neck so you could keep him close.
He probably would have kept kissing you til the end of the world if you let him, but alas your lungs begged for air, and so you were forced to part. You opened your eyes to meet Pierrot’s unreadable expression. His eyes were blown wide, looking at you as if you weren’t real, and his hands gripped you as if you’d disappear when he let go.
As he seemed to reign himself in, Pierrot leaned down and dug his face into the crook of your neck. You giggled at the ticklish sensation of his hair brushing up against your skin, and at how he allowed himself to be a little vocal. The vibrations of his incoherent mumbling and grumbling against your skin made you shiver slightly. However, you yelped when you felt a sharper sensation.
Pierrot immediately jumped off of you, throwing himself off the bed and back onto the floor as he knelt. His hands found your thighs, his forehead sitting on your knees. You were quick to sit up at the unexpected reaction.
“S-sorry- I’m sorry, my lady… I-I got carried away, I should have asked your permission to… to leave a m-mark on you… On your perfect body…” His speech was stuttered, probably because he was still trembling so damn much. Is this really the effect you had on this man? Damn, if that didn’t make you feel a certain way…
You reached out and placed a hand on his back, gently rubbing circles in a rhythmic motion. He tensed again, but soon hummed softly, relaxing into your touch. His shaking hands now gently kneaded at the plushness of your thighs, head fully resting its weight on top of your knees. You could practically see the tightness in his body leaving.
“Pierrot, you silly thing…” You began, your smile soft and welcoming, which he could tell even as he stared at the ground, “Can you answer something for me?” You questioned. His head slowly lifted, just enough so he could look you in the eye.
“Yes my lady, anything for you…” His eagerness was the only thing that stayed the same throughout this whole disorienting ordeal. You tucked a hand under his chin, guiding him to look up further as you leaned down to be nearer to his ear as you softly asked,
“Tell me… Do you love me…? Is that why you’ve been acting off today?”
Pierrot shook briefly as an aggressive shiver wracked his entire body, his breath catching in his throat before he responded eagerly, “Y-yes, god- Yes, of course I love you, my lady. You’re the only one I have eyes for. You constantly overtake my thoughts and my senses, my entire being, my everything…!” Words spilled from his mouth like a waterfall, rushed and unable to be stopped, “P-please… God, please…” His hands slightly tightened around your thighs as he practically began begging, pulling himself even closer to you as he spoke,
“Tell me you love me too, my lady…”
A soft sigh fell from your lips, laced with nothing but the sugary sweetness you felt for him. You leaned in and pecked Pierrot just on the corner of the mouth. The man was left speechless, mouth agape at the action, eyes trained solely on you, chest almost heaving with breath as he eagerly waited for your answer. His body tried to follow as you pulled away slightly to respond…
“Of course I love you, goofball~.”
And so the rest of the evening – and far into the night, into the next morning even – was spent with you basically crushed in cuddles. Even when Pierrot offered you anything and everything your heart could possibly desire of him, all you asked for was a night in together. The two of you were always touching in some way; in the kitchen making a snack? Pierrot was draped over your shoulder, arms around your waist as he happily existed beside you. Sitting in bed watching a movie? He had you in his lap, cozied up in a blanket as you listened to the quiet, almost purr-like sound that came from deep within his chest against your back. Going to sleep? He let you get situated, then cuddled up in your arms once you opened them to him, happily burying himself in your neck.
Smitten doesn’t even come close to how down bad this man is for you.
