#it sounded like circus tent music | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

c-cobweb · 8 months ago

Text

𝓑e a freak like me too ⋮ jimmy darling

ᡣ𐭩 . warnings ᯓ +18 mdni!, smut, pwp, fem!virgin!reader, make out, age gap (not specified but everyone is over 18), fingering. a/n ᯓ english is not my first lenguage!

───────── ⋆⋅🕸️⋅⋆ ─────────

Your life was monotonous and boring, with strict parents who only let you leave the house for college things and no little siblings to play with. Everything was like that until one day the circus of monstrosites arrived in the city, and your father decided to take you and your mother to see what show they could offer.

Excited, you dressed in a beautiful white dress with pink flowers that they gave you for your 18th birthday, you subtly made up with a pink eye shadow and a gloss on your lips, you were ready to go out.

. . .

You got out of your father’s car and looked around, both excited and scared of what could happen there.

“Come on, honey, or we’ll be late,” your mother warned you while she and your father were starting to walk towards the circus.

You ran after them until you reached them and got by their side. Once inside the circus you were amazed, everything was full of colours and lights, the typical circus music sounded in the background while children rode the attractions, you were fascinated.

You approached the entrance of the tent of the show, your father paid for the tickets and you sat in the front row to be able to see the spawns up close.

. . .

The show was halfway through and everything was spectacular, you were delighted with those people with deformities. Everything was going perfectly until Jimmy Darling, the lobster boy, appeared on stage.

You were damned with his beauty, so much so that you overlooked the deformity of his hands. He began his monologue as usual and at one point you clashed looks, making him wink and make you blush, you just wish your parents hadn’t realised.

. . .

At the end of the performance everyone got up from the seat and left the tent, including you and your family. You escaped for a moment saying that you would go to the bathroom to actually go in search of that handsome boy who had darned you with his charms.

After a couple of minutes looking for him, you found him about to enter his caravan and accelerated the pace until you reached him.

“Mr. Darling?” You said once you were behind him, touching his shoulder to get his attention. He turned confused about who was calling him until he saw you and smiled.

“Oh, you, you’re the girl in the front row, right? What’s your name?” He said and you nodded your head, telling him your name.

“I just wanted to tell you that I loved your show, it was wonderful” you smiled cheerfully as you put your hands behind your back.

“You’re such a sweetheart. No girl had come before after a performance to congratulate me,” he replied winking at you once again, making you blush and look the other way briefly.

“Well, just... just wanted to tell you that. I’m leaving now” you said goodbye with your hand and turned around to go back to your parents.

“Wait!” You heard Jimmy’s voice behind you and turned your head to look at him “Is it okay if we see each other someday?”

You were very excited when he asked you that, you were excited to be able to spend more time with him.

“Of course yes,” you replied with a wide smile.

“Perfect, is it okay if we meet in the ‘Coffee and Jhons’ cafeteria? It’s a good place to see each other” he suggested, shrugging his shoulders.

In your head you were already making a plan to be able to leave the house without your parents knowing that you were going to see a boy, much less could they know that that boy was a spawn.

“Okay, I’ll see you there tomorrow at 12 am?” You said this time with a small smile.

. . .

You had deceived your parents by saying that you were going to your friend Alice’s house to study when you were actually about to reach your meeting point with Jimmy.

Your stomach was full of butterflies, you had never lied to your parents before, much less to go see a boy. But it wasn’t just any boy, it was Jimmy Darling.

You entered the cafeteria and looked around you until you found Jimmy sitting on one of the stools at the bar, waiting for you. You approached him from behind and touched his shoulder making him turn around.

“Hello Jimmy” You greeted with a small smile, you were very nervous.

“Hi darling” He said grabbing your hand and leaving a kiss on it, to which in response your cheeks were coloured.

When he saw how you blushed, Jimmy smiled from ear to ear making his cheekbones stand out. You sat on the stool next to him and asked for a cherry coke to drink and a cupcake, while he asked for a beer.

You immediately realised the leather gloves that covered his hands, and you frowned confused. “Why are you wearing those gloves?” You asked delicately, without wanting to offend him.

“Well, as you know, I have lobster hands and many people could be scared to see them,” he replied while still smiling.

You took one of his hands and stroked it over the glove. “I’m not scared of your hands” you said as you looked him in the eyes with a soft smile, which warmed his heart.

. . .

It had already been several weeks since your secret meeting with Jimmy, and you did not stop running away from home to go see him at any time. This time he had rented a motel room just for the two of you. Were you nervous? Yes, and a lot.

You stalled through the window of your room and ran down the street where Jimmy was waiting for you with his motorcycle.

“Hello, darling,” he said when you rode behind him on the motorcycle and grabbed his waist so you didn’t fall. “Ready to go?”

The road to the motel was quiet, it was night so there were not many people on the street and you could enjoy a small walk before reaching your destination.

You entered the reception of the motel and Jimmy asked for the key to your room and then go to the elevator to go to your room.

“You look beautiful today, more than usual” He said while the elevator doors closed.

“Thank you very much,” you answered with a smile while blushing, his flirtatious comments always made you blush.

He approached you and placed one hand on your cheek and the other on your waist, curiously today he was not wearing his leather gloves. “Can I kiss you?” He asked in a whisper as he brought his face closer to yours, to which you nodded.

He kissed your lips gently, he knew it was your first kiss and didn’t want to scare you. You corresponded to the kiss, nervous but excited.

The elevator doors opened, this time leaving you on the floor of your room. Jimmy slowly separated from you, “Come on” said as he grabbed your hand and guided you to the room.

Once inside the room he closed the door and kissed you again, but this time with more passion. You opened your eyes surprised at his action, you didn’t expect such a hungry kiss after that sweet kiss he had given you minutes ago.

He guide you to the bed, making you both sit on it while you were still kissing. You followed the kiss shyly until you gained more confidence, that’s when Jimmy licked your lower lip to ask for permission and be able to put his tongue in your vocal cavity, which you agreed to.

Your tongues were dancing inside your mouths in a heated and exciting kiss. Jimmy grabbed your shoulders and gently pushed you until your back collided with the bed mattress, leaving you lying down.

His large fused hands walked through your body being careful not to touch any inappropriate place until it reached your waist, stopping there and separating slightly from the kiss. “Is everything okay?” He asked looking into your eyes to make sure you were comfortable.

“Yes Jimmy, I’m great” You confirmed with a smile as you rested one of your hands on his cheek and raised your head to kiss him again.

He reciprocated the kiss gladly and his hands moved around your body again, this time leaving them right on your thighs and putting them a little under your dress. His thumbs drew small figures on your inner thighs while his hands moved very slowly — so as not to alarm you — towards your centre.

When the tips of his fingers grazed your underwear you shuddered and separated from the kiss, looking at Jimmy a little scared.

“Shh, don’t worry, darling” He tried to reassure you as he lowered his kisses to your neck and hid his face there. “Can I?” He asked as he wrapped his fingers in the strip of your panties, to which you nodded.

He slowly lowered the garment down your legs, caressing them in the process. “Tell me, honey, have you ever touched yourself down there?” He asked by taking his face out of your neck to look into your eyes with a smile on his face.

“Yes, but only a couple of times” You replied embarrassed as you looked away from him, to which Jimmy laughed.

“It’s fine. Does it bother you if I touch you?” You bit your lower lip repressing a smile at how understanding and respectful he was.

“Yes, please touch me” You begged slightly as you looked at him again with big and bright eyes.

Jimmy did not hesitate to start caressing your clit with two of his fused fingers to prepare you, to which you covered your mouth with both hands to repress the sounds that threatened to come out of your throat.

“Oh, pretty girl, let those beautiful sounds come out, I want to hear you moan” He said without any qualms making you blush, but you listened to him and took your hands away from your face.

His fingers went from caressing your clit to surrounding your entrance, which made you let out a little gasp. “Jimmy...” you whispered as your breathing agitated.

“Are you ready?” He asked leaving a small kiss on your cheek, you nodded and he began to put his fused fingers through your entrance very delicately so as not to hurt you.

You closed your eyes and hissed slightly while your fists clung to the sheets. At first it hurt a little but then the pain was replaced by pleasure little by little.

Your back bent over and moans and more prominent sighs began to come out of your mouth, your hands clung to Jimmy’s biceps while your face contoured with pleasure. Jimmy looked at your face with a big smile, proud of himself for causing you so much pleasure with just his fingers.

His wide fingers caused you an indescribable pleasure, they widened your vaginal walls deliciously. You couldn’t stop moaning loudly, and you were surprised when his thumb began to caress your clit again.

“Jimmy... I- I think I’m going to come” That phrase made him smile even more, and he began to speed up his movements.

“I know honey, I can feel it,” he said as he began to kiss your jaw and leave a path of kisses up to your neck. “You just let yourself go, let it go”

It didn’t take you much longer to finish, moaning his name loudly and closing your eyes tightly. Jimmy laughs slightly when he took his fingers out of your intimacy and saw how wet they were, and then put them in his mouth and savour your juices.

“Jimmy! Don’t do that...” You said covering your face with both hands because of the shame.

“Why wouldn’t I do it? You are delicious” He let out a little laugh at your reaction and then lay down next to you, passing an arm behind your shoulders and curling up with you. “Now let’s rest for a while, it’s been a very trying moment... but don’t think I’m done with you” He said the latter giving you a small spanking.

───────── ⋆⋅🕸️⋅⋆ ─────────

mlist , bots

#american horror story #evan peters #evan peters smut #jimmy darling #evan peters x reader #evan peters x y/n #evan peters x you #evan peters x female reader #freak show #ahs freakshow #jimmy darling smut

306 notes · View notes

ilooklikeaburntchickenugget · 3 months ago

Note

helloo! idk if youre taking requests, but if you do i was thinking of revenge era gee with fem reader who is also a well know singer. like shes on tour and does some festival mcr is playing at and shes really mainstream so the guys dont have high expectations on her music but then they watch her play and they're like "fuck, she actually does know what shes doing" and somehow her and gee exchange numbers and start texting all day long bc theyre both on tour

idk if this makes any sense tbh.

i saw one picture of ts on the red tour that looks like if it was taken with a shitty flip phone and thought of this somehow

anyway, feel free to ignore this and have a good day :D

Title: Happily Ever Accident

A/N: Hey y'all I know it's been actually forever but I saw this in my inbox and thought it was cute so managed to somehow write this amidst midterms season. Idk how but it happened. It's also not thoroughly proof-read because tbh I'm tried and lazy right now. But here's some content for y'all for once. Also, side note, but as I was writing this I was visioning reader as a Sabrina Carpenter-esc figure. Just in the sense of popularity, stage presence, etc. Pairing: Gerard Way (circa mid-2005) x F!PopStar!Reader Word count: 7,978 words Warnings: Swearing, mentions of insecurity

Low expectations. The constant standard he had set for almost every single festival his band was expected to play.

It wasn’t that Gerard didn’t like other people’s music, or festivals for that matter, but considering the label had cornered them into a small handful of non-genre restrictive ones he was annoyed. The culture, the vibes, the people- this was not his place. Not his band’s place, for that matter.

But commercialism was the name of the game, he had learned that early on. He was lucky enough the label had allowed their last album to be artistically driven by him, from songs and lyrics to the artwork on the cover. But there is always a quid-pro-quo in the entertainment industry. And playing at a mainstream festival was apparently one of them.

They wouldn’t have agreed to this had their last music video not gone over budget by a significant amount, and now they were paying the price. On top of that the label had encouraged them to be in public, watch other bands play from the VIP tents. Gerard narrowly lost his shit after trying time and time again explain that they needed time to prep for their show, get in the proper mindset, and that would take all the morning into late afternoon when they were finally on. The label exec begged to differ, giving no ultimatum.

“Fucking hell, if we have to listen to another fucking basic pop artist I’m going to lose my mind.” Frank sighed walking through the festival grounds. The group was by no means blending in, as three security guards stood around them and they could easily hear and see people left and right gawking at them as if they were circus animals.

“Good fucking luck with that.” Ray replied. He was never the sarcastic type, if anything he was the most mature and level-headed. So when he had enough, everyone knew it was bad.

“We have one more.” Gerard too sighed, sticking his hands aggressively in his jean pockets. “Then we’re off the fucking hook.” The group took sighs of relief out of sync.

“Who is it?” Frank asked, seeming halfway curious.

“Uh-“ Gerard stopped, checking his phone to see what their manager had texted them. “Great. Y/F/N Y/L/N.”

“Fuck me.” Frank sighed. “My head is going to fucking explode. Listen, I like all music, but I cannot do this much commercial, manufactured pop.”

“I don’t know, her stuff doesn’t seem as bad as some of the others.” Mikey chimed in for the first time.

“How would you know? I’ve only heard her shit in Targets.” Frank speedily replied.

“Social media, I guess. Enough sound clips from her songs have blown up to make them pretty hard to miss.”

“I’m still keeping my expectations low.” Frank shrugged.

“It’s the last one, try to be somewhat positive.” Ray replied halfheartedly.

“We’re never going over budget on anything again.” Gerard quickly added, turning a corner to the next stage’s area. “I can’t fucking do this.”

She got nervous before shows. She was great at hiding it. But in the last few weeks every festival she was playing had crowds growing bigger and bigger. From what her manager had communicated to her approximately two minutes ago, she had the biggest recorded crowd so far for the second day.

Staring at herself in the mirror of the green room, she pushed every bad thought out of her mind. She even closed her eyes and imagined all the bad energy within her swooping out of her body in swirls of dust and being replaced with positive rays of sunshine. It might’ve been stupid, but it worked.

She opened her eyes, putting on her signature smile, looked herself up and down, reminded herself that she was incredibly sexy at the moment, and b-lined it for the door.

Anxiety be damned, her ambitions had gotten her this far and would get her further, she knew that much. She was happy at this point to be thrown into the group of “pop girlies” currently dominating the charts, because it meant she was catering to an already large fan base, and proving others wrong in their assumptions too.

Give a girl some platform boots, a tight outfit where the tops integrity around her chest was questionable, and a microphone- then you’ve got a pop star.

Gerard stood there amazed. He could not fucking believe it.

Three songs in and he was mesmerized. He wasn’t sure if he was more shocked with her or himself. He was trying to rack his brain for reasons to not like this, and blank answers came up time and time again.

To begin with, her songs were substantially above average for pop. They had creative instrumentals, catchy sounds, and her lyrics were truly the star of the show.

But then he took into account her as a person. She was quite attractive, sure. He had seen her enough online and in magazines to see at least that much, but he was sure most of the male population and a decent amount of the female population also saw that. But here, in this light, in that tight little outfit that showed off all the right things just enough to give a good idea, but still leave a good amount to the imagination, he was falling head over heels.

He was almost flustered with her perfection in his eyes, having to catch himself to make sure wasn’t staring like a dog at a bone. After all, there were enough people around to know him and take photos, which would lead to massive and weird speculation online that he simply didn’t want to deal with.

And her stage presence was empowering. She was confident, not selfish. She was sexy as much as she was innocent. She was clear in her intentions and messages, just as much when she left some ideas not fully complete to leave people longing and wondering.

Suddenly he understood all the teenage girls in the audience. She was fucking incredible.

“Told you.” Mikey said next to him with a smirk. It was hard for Gerard to look away from her, but he did. “Don’t always believe stereotypes man. You out of all people should know better.”

“That really wasn’t so bad after all.” Frank shrugged as the group walked back to their own green room, hidden in an array of tents set up on the edge of the festival grounds.

“Yeah, but standing in the heat for that long was exhausting.” Ray commented next, his hands stuffed deep in his pockets. He was always tense until they got all the equipment set up and knew everything was going to go right.

“I don’t know man, that last show kinda rocked.” Mikey responded. “Been trying to tell you guys that not all pop artists are that bad.”

“Well, a lot of them are.” Frank quickly rebutted. “However, you are right, that last one was incredible. I just thought having a girlfriend who obsesses over pop music had gotten to your head.” Mikey rolled his eyes.

Gerard was silent, partially because he didn’t really have anything to say, and partially because he was hanging on to the last show. He learned through years of art school and sketching under cubicle lights that some of the best art was clear as day yet still left you thinking. That was how he felt at the moment. Dwelling in the really astounding feeling he had.

She had single handedly proved a lot of his fallacies wrong. And he saw with his very eyes how she managed to go from half the crowd being into her to the master tools her voice and movement had that puppeteer the crowd like a pro. Who was he kidding though- she clearly was a pro.

Turning a corner he was so lost in his thoughts, his body in auto drive and his vision turned to the cement ground. He knew he needed to stop thinking soon, get in the right headspace for his own show- and then he bumped into something.

His body lost a bit of its control as his right arm collided with something a bit smaller than him. Suddenly he regained all his consciousness as his stabled his footing again, turning his body to see what it was.

And there, low and behold, in those damn platform boots and an oversized hoodie that went so far down her thighs it was a dress, was the very woman who had captured his mind just minutes ago. She was lingering within him, and now she was right here.

Fate works in strange ways.

“Shit, I’m so sorry-“ She began, regaining her own balance as she clearly took more of a hit than he did given that she was shorter and had boots that, despite looking like they weighed a ton, he doubted helped to ground her any more.

“No, that was my fault.” He quickly interrupted, growing embarrassed as she looked up and he realized he had managed to be rude to her in the last 30 seconds not once but twice. “I should’ve been looking out.”

“Me too.” She calmly replied with a small smile, handing this with so much grace and calmness compared to his internal panic.

This close she managed to look even better than on the screens. Photos and videos didn’t do her beauty justice. She looked almost like a doll- near perfect features, beautiful hair, and a smile that was so comforting and cute and graceful. Her makeup was almost as perfect as it was when she went on, but her mascara was ever so smeared around the corner of her eyes, her lipstick fading, and hell- his mind couldn’t help but wander to a place where he wondered what it would be like if he had put her in this state. And then he shut those thoughts up as quickly as they appeared, choosing instead to wonder how anyone could be more perfect.

“I um- I better get going and leave you guys to get to your show.” She quickly said, but froze up not even a moment later, her eyes growing wide with embarrassment of her own. “Shit that was weird wasn’t it? I don’t know you but- well I do, kinda, but like not personally. I mean knowing your music and band and-“ she stopped talking not knowing what to say, her body almost shrinking in a sense of even more embarrassment. “Fuck. I’m gonna shut up now.”

Gerard gave a chuckle and a smile of his own. He felt better now that both of them felt embarrassed.

“No, it’s okay.” He replied. “We’re just coming from your show, actually.” Somehow she froze even more. He could tell under that huge gray hoodie her muscles had tensed further.

“Oh, uh, I hope you enjoyed it.” She softly smiled, polite but seeming almost nervous. Why was he so bad about talking to women, especially pretty ones?

“It was phenomenal, actually.” He replied, nervous himself and instinctively rubbing the back of his neck with one of his hands. There was already a thin layer of sweat connecting back there from standing in the heat for so long. But he didn’t care about that nor how he would survive the heat on his stage later- all he cared about right now was not completely fucking up this interaction with the woman in front of him.

“Are you just saying that to be nice?” She asked with a pouty lip as she clearly questioned the integrity of his response. He rapidly shook his head.

“No, of course not. I don’t lie- ever. If anything I went into the show not knowing much- not in a bad way, I mean kinda in an ignorant way if I’m being honest, and you just- fuck, man, the way you controlled that crowd was so exciting and empowering. It truly was incredible.”

Her face looked like a damn puppy dog begging for a treat. If he weren’t human he would have definitely melted by that look. Big eyes and a genuine smile, her cheeks big and emphasizing her reaction.

“That’s really sweet, thank you so much.” She replied, yet again with grace that he wished he had in these moments. “I um- while I would love to talk more I need to take a shower. I feel so sticky and just- gross. But it was really nice talking to you. And thanks so much for watching me, I really appreciate the feedback.”

His heart broke just a bit.

“Yeah, of course.” He replied, and before he could think he blurted out. “You’re more than welcome to come to ours as well, I mean I’m sure you have the artist VIP tent access, but if you wanna get closer I can definitely arrange a barricade pass for you.”

Her eyes lit up and glowed in a way he wished he could see every single day.

“That’s amazing!” She replied. “Would it be selfish to ask for one more too? My best friend is here and she likes you guys too-“

“Consider it done.” He smiled as she smiled back. “I’ll have my manager send them over to your trailer.”

“Thank you, that’s very sweet of you.” She replied.

“It’s the least I can do. Returning the favor of watching your show and providing feedback.”

“Does that mean I need to take notes for yours and give them to you too?” She asked with a playful smile. Just now he noticed the water bottle in her hand with a straw as she took a sip and damn- he quickly erased all the dirty thoughts that rushed into his mind before it was too late.

“Only if you want to.” Where had this confidence in him come from? He didn’t even know. But right now it was working, and that was all that mattered. Yet again, his body thought before his mind as he said, “Give me your number and we can arrange a meetup. To, ya know, exchange notes and whatnot.”

She seemed flustered, but hid it well. However, the red blush growing on her cheeks and her face that froze yet again for a mere moment told him maybe she wasn’t all that good at this either. But hey, there was a learning opportunity for both of them, he supposed.

“Sure.” She said, as he grabbed his phone, handing it to her as she quickly typed it in.

Y/F/N Y/L/N it read on his screen, the line of numbers under it.

“It was nice meeting you, Y/F/N.” He smiled.

“You too-“ She said, but stopped herself. “I know your first name but I don’t want to say it before you do because that’s creepy.”

He let out a genuine laugh.

“Gerard.” He said.

“Gerard.” She replied. “I’ll see you later, Gerard.”

“So what you’re telling me is Gerard Way wants to fuck you?” Lacey asked her. But she supposed this is why people had best friends- to be both supportive, honest, and borderline crude all at the same time.

“I don’t know if he wants to fuck me-“

“He wants to ‘exchange notes’ on your shows? Code words for ‘come back to my trailer and let’s have sex’.” She said with confidence, sitting down and scrolling through her own phone as Y/F/N changed into a solid black hoodie and jeans to not make her presence obvious. Their show was not about her, and she hoped her presence wouldn’t make it about her.

“Well, I don’t just fuck guys. And I’ll be happy to tell him that if he tries. But he seemed very sweet, and all the interviews of him lean towards him being a very nice guy.” Y/F/N responded quickly, borderline defensive.

“Nice guys can have hookups too, ya know.” Lacey said. She wasn’t wrong, but Y/F/N swore this felt different.

“Regardless, that’s not happening with me.”

“Preach, sister.” Lacy said with a bit of pop in her voice. “If what you’re saying is true, it did sound like you have him wrapped around your finger.”

“We talked for like two minutes. I barely know him, he barely knows me.” Y/F/N rolled her eyes, expertly reapplying her lip gloss in a small mirror.

“Do you know that amount of men after your shows that would fall on their knees and beg for you?” Lacey asked, finally looking up from her phone to make eye contact in the mirror.

“Whatever.” Y/F/N sighed. “I’m just excited we have barricade to a My Chem show. How long have we been wanting to see them?”

“A solid year.” Lacey admitted, standing up to find her shoes. “I’m still not over Gerard Way wanting to fuck you, though.”

Y/F/N was sure rumors would be circulating by morning. As soon as she entered the VIP barricade area alongside Lacey, there was a sudden eruption of screams, and as she looked over a sea of phones were taking photos and videos of her. She gave a polite smile and wave before turning back around towards the stage, hoping as soon as the band got on the attention was going to divert away from her.

Damn her for thinking having a black hoodie on with the hood up would prevent this.

Within minutes though, as the lights on the stage went pitch black and screams from the entire crowd erupted she knew that finally she could just enjoy seeing a band she really liked play from right in front of her. Perks of being a pop star or whatever.

She had to admit that the in-person performance easily knocked any of the recorded ones she saw online out of the fucking park. And while Gerard Way had always been objectively attractive, and happened to be the skinny sad white boy that was her type for whatever reason, he looked really attractive in this light. Like a new skin of confidence took over him. Maybe it was the tight black skinny jeans or fake bullet proof vest with no shirt on under it that perfectly sculpted his lightly muscular arms- and damn the hands. Masculine hands were one of her weaknesses. And his very much fit into that category.

So did she have any notes after the show? No, actually. It was exactly what she had expected, but two fold. She was left amazed and energized as they walked off.

If he really wanted to compare notes with her he was going to be sorely disappointed in the lack of notes she had.

That night did not end with them sharing notes about the others show. Instead, it ended with them sitting on a grassy patch of the festival grounds when it emptied out talking about anything and everything. Gerard had quickly realized how multi-faceted of a person Y/F/N was. Every preconceived notion he had of her was torn down by her random knowledge about random things, her admissions to cringey teen phases she had, cute childhood stories, dichotomy of family and how difficult that could be to navigate.

She was fucking perfect inside and out. And he knew he couldn’t lose her.

In an assertive nature he decided to text her more through the next week. She was on tour in one town, and he was in another. But that didn’t matter. Every other day, or three days apart maximum, they would call from their hotel rooms, or from outside his bus, and talk. About everything. Their days, their histories. What they ate, what they did or didn’t like, who they saw, where they were next, what they wanted to do, asking the other about cool things to do in the city they were in for that day.

And finally, a little less than two weeks after they met, they had that talk.

“So what are we?” She asked over the phone, sitting on her bed and nervously picking at her brightly colored nails. She needed to know before she got too attached and her heart broken further down the line when she was way deeper in than she was now. Not that rejection now wouldn’t hurt- she was trying to save herself from more potential hurt later.

“Seeing each other?” He asked. “I mean, no pressure- we can always take it slower.“

“I would like for us to be ‘seeing each other’.” She replied with a smile growing on her face.

“Great, then we’re seeing each other.” He decided, she could hear the small smile in his own voice despite not seeing him.

“We have a four day break coming up.” He mentioned on a call. A few weeks had blown by, and things felt very normal between them given how abnormal their situation was.

“Okay.” She replied simply, wanting him to go on.

“I want to come see you, if that’s okay.”

“Okay.” She replied again, not hesitant- but a mixture of excited and logistically starting to play a mind puzzle about how this was going to work.

“Just okay?” He asked, now sounding more hesitant himself but equally as confused.

“No, I just mean- like, yes, please come, I really want to see you, but if people see us together again, I think it will kinda be obvious. I- it’s not that I don’t want to show you off, but I kinda like the direction we’re going in now. I don’t want public speculation or opinion to fuck that up.”

Even in a fucking baseball cap and sunglasses at her show, people would grow suspicious of that figure in the secluded family/friends area. They would equally as quickly figure out, judging by the firestorm online caused by her presence at their show the night they met, who it was. And then they would be official without actually saying anything. Just by being together.

She wouldn’t mind being official to the public, eventually. But she wanted more time to have just them to herself.

“I can stand off to the side behind the stage.” He offered.

“Your view is gonna suck.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Okay then.” She replied affirmatively.

“Okay?” He asked for clarification.

“Yes, okay.” She softly smiled with a giggle. “Come to the shows, I even have a hotel room booked one of the nights.”

“Oh fancy.” He replied with a chuckle. “Lookin’ forward to it.”

She shouldn’t have been nervous. He had seen her perform before.

Well once- the first time they met, and then twice on TV in the last few weeks since her career had managed to blow up even further. But this felt different. It was different.

She knew he could now have expectations of her. What if he didn’t like something, or got the ick from the way she danced or what if she fucked up? What if she tripped on stage for the first time or bumped into something or forgot a lyric or her voice went out-

“On in two.” She heard one of the stage techs say, peeking their head through her green room door. As if one queue, she heard a roar of screams from the direction of the stage, queueing that her little intro video had started. Despite still playing smaller venues, at least ones smaller than arenas, her label had actually been willing to put quite the production into her tour after realizing that her stage presence and personality was one of the things that charmed audiences so much.

She gave herself one final look over in the mirror. Her opening outfit was standard- a body con number decked out in black sequence with red accents and her infamous knee high boots that were plain leather, but that she had begun to notice were also being worn more commonly by fans to her shows. It was one of those trademark things that made her feel more like the pop star she was growing to be. At least the headlines called her that.

Taking her hands, she fluffed out her hair a bit more giving her light waves more volume, dropping them, closing her eyes, and reopening them in her stage persona.

She walked out of the door beginning her strut with the sense of confidence she only gained to this level when she knew she was going to be on stage. As she approached side stage, her bedazzled microphone with her initials on it in small rhinestones at the bottom was waiting for her with one of the stage assistance. She gave him a small smile and nod as a thank you, taking it delicately and wrapping her hand around it firmly.

Her in-ear monitored queued up with her sound guy, Jeremy, who gave her the 20 second warning. She allowed herself one final deep breath, realizing this was her time to shine. Even if he was here for the first time watching her as the guy she was seeing, and just generally in a new light, she recalled meeting him for the first time after a show, figuring if she could impress him once maybe she could do it again.

After all, the version of herself that managed to get his attention in the first place was the one who was about to step into the spotlight in a mere three seconds.

Sweaty, hot, tired, worn, happy. The best ways to describe how she felt almost every night coming off stage.

She felt great about this show. The crowds she was dealing with were getting better at each stop, she figured it was venues being sold out and her rapid growth as an artist that was to thank for their enthusiasm and their increased screaming of her own lyrics back to her.

But what made this show so special was seeing him in one of the boxes up and over from the crowd. He kept a low profile with a plain t-shirt and baseball cap, standing next to Lacey through the entire duration, but the occasional eye contact they made was what kept her going.

He was always at least smiling at her. If not he was beaming, or nodding, swaying to the music, and her favorite was when he was so focused on just her that she caught his lower lip being bitten, his eyes glued straight onto her. She knew she always had most if not all of the crowd in a trance- but tonight his attention was the one she really wanted.

She giggled at something her manager had said as they walked through the back hallways of the venue, sipping on her bottled water through a straw and trying to regain as much hydration and energy as possible. As the turned a corner toward the green room, she paused and gave a big toothy smile as she saw him at the end of the hallway.

There was Gerard, still in his relatively incognito outfit, and a full smile as their eyes met. As fast as she could manage to run in her boots, she made her way down the hall and collided with his torso, breaking out into a fit of giggles as he hugged her back.

“Did you like it?” She asked first, letting her chin fall on his chest as she looked up at him with big doe eyes hoping for a good answer.

“You fucking killed it.” He said affirmatively with a smile, leaning down to give her a quick kiss. “You’re absolutely insane out there. Such a natural- fuck, I wish I had half the confidence and ability you do when I’m on stage.”

“Oh stop it!” She playfully and lightly hit his shoulder as she backed away to walk back to her room with him. In the process he swiftly grabbed her hand in his, intertwining their fingers which made her smile even more. “Don’t give yourself any less credit- you’re a fucking beast on stage.” He leaned down and gave her a kiss on the head.

“But nothing like you.” He replied, holding the door open for her as they entered back in so she could change.

She quickly and stealthily changed into a shirt and sweatpants, sitting down to take her makeup off, or at least that’s what she would typically do. But as she sat and looked at herself in the vanity mirror, catching a glimpse of him in the back scrolling on his phone, she wasn’t so sure she felt all that confident with him in person without all of this on.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, catching her in a trance. Damn, why did he have to be so good on picking up these things?

“Nothing.” She said with a soft smile. His body language with a raised eyebrow implied he definitely did not believe that. “I just- should I take my makeup off?” She asked turning to him. He gave her an even more confused look.

“Is it what you normally do?” He asked and she nodded. “Then yeah, take your makeup off.” She didn’t move, still staring at him. “Baby, what’s wrong- actually?” She groaned.

“It’s so stupid.” She admitted, now looking away from him. “I just- I don’t want you to like, I don’t know, not like me without this on.”

He looked a bit shocked and confused at look, but it quickly melted into sympathy.

“Sweetheart, take your makeup off.” He requited with a sweet tone. “I promise you, I will not view you any differently without makeup on. That is such a minor thing. And I’m not with you for your looks- I mean, you are fucking gorgeous- but that’s with or without makeup.”

“Fine.” She replied, grabbing some of her cotton pads and makeup remover, then going to town on delicately running them over her skin and cleaning everything off.

Once she was done, only a few minutes later, she grabbed her bag and regular shoes, slipping them on and getting up to approach him where he leaned next to the door. As soon as she was a few inches from him, he delicately took her face in his hands.

“See, just as gorgeous as always.” He softly smiled, giving her a soft and passionate kiss. She offered a sheepish smile and a growing blush on her cheeks.

“Thank you.” She nervously replied. “We gotta go though- I’m fucking starving.”

“Holy shit.” She said, taking another forkful of pasta and placing it into her mouth. “This is so fucking good.”

“Mhm.” He nodded in agreement taking a bite of his own. It was nice to have some company to actually eat with, and not just pull out her laptop to watch a show or call her parents who were halfway across the country. Now, she had her boyfriend laid across the bed sideways in front of her as she sat criss cross at the head.

“You want a bite?” She asked. He looked at her skeptical for a moment before nodding, allowing her to grab another few pieces, giving them to him.

“Well, shit.” He sighed with a smile. “That is fucking amazing.” She nodded in agreement. There was a brief moment of silence that followed.

“I hate that we have to go back to being, like- normal.” She said. It was one of those thoughts that just spilled out without her even thinking.

“Hm?” He asked, looking up with his eyebrows furrowed.

“Ya know, like being apart for so long.” She said with a tight smile. “We’ve barely spent any time together in person but every time we do I want to spend more and more- and we can’t.” He sighed, putting his fork down in his container.

“I know, baby.” He softly said, taking his now free hand and placing it on her bare thigh, rubbing small circles into the skin with his thumb. “But it’s only another month- then we’re on break and I’ll come be with you as long as you want.”

“Gee, you should get a break.” She said with a serious face. “You need to go home and settle for a few weeks and be with your family and friends there who you haven’t seen in fucking forever.” He shrugged.

“I’ve had all the time in the world to make relationships with them- I want to continue to build ours, and if that means going on tour with you than so be it.” He replied with confidence.

“Even if we do that people will speculate and- we would have to go public.” She explained.

“Is that such a bad thing?”

“No, but,” She took a moment to think, making eye contact with him again as his eyes begged hers for answers. “I don’t want to keep you or us a secret. I would love to show and brag about my super cool, super talented, super hot boyfriend to the world, but I want to keep it private.” He smiled lightly and nodded.

“Then let’s do it.” He said, affirmatively. “We’ll take it at your pace. Whenever you’re ready, I’m ready.”

He had been on tour with her for a full week. And it was becoming unbearable how many things were circulating around.

It started at the first show he came to- a solid handful of people had noticed him and put a name to the face, despite his attempt to remain to himself. A small firestorm erupted online over the alleged rumors. The headlines abusing taboos and cliches of the “pop princess and rockstar” trope that made people go crazy.

Then he actually began coming on tour. She wasn’t sure she had been happier on any other leg of it, until he was there to watch every show, and take her out when she had breaks to his favorite spots in each city, and then end the night in her queen sized “suite” on the back of her bus if you could even call it that. She had even bought more storage bins for under the bed to make room for his things.

But people didn’t need to see all the stolen and sudden kissed, or hysterical fits of laughter, or constant touching that were soft reminders of the other. They didn’t need to know about all the photos they had taken of each other, or the memories made, or the lyrics and words that began filling her songbook as she wrote almost exclusively now about him. At least yet.

But on day nine of them being on her tour together, she couldn’t take the speculation anymore. She couldn’t ignore all the photos taken of him at her shows, or the videos that replayed her not-so-obvious smiles and slow hip movements while making direct eye contact with him. In all fairness, she wasn’t trying to hide it.

People could see moments and snippets of their love. But she wouldn’t let them see the whole thing.

“What d’you think?” She asked, the back of her head leaning against his shoulder as they both looked at her phone. It was a simple story draft for her Instagram of the two of them just a few nights ago walking into a gas station. Not the most romantic thing, but her makeup artist had managed to catch it at one of their stops late at night.

The lighting was perfect and almost vintage aesthetic, offering a slight blur to the photo. It was the two of them holding hands as they walked in, both with hoodies and sweatpants on. Only half her face was shown, brightly smiling up at him, and only the back of his head was shown as a mop of slightly messy slightly put-together black hair.

“I love it.” He said with a small smile, giving her a kiss on the top of the head. In the bottom corner she had just put a small black heart, meant to be a small clue.

“Okay,” She smiled. “I think I’m gonna post it.” She said, looking up at him. “You okay with this?”

“Of course.” He genuinely smiled back. “I don’t mind at all.”

Before she could second guess she hit the post button, immediately turning off her phone and throwing it to the edge of the bed.

“It’s done.” She said with big eyes and a giddy tone. “Like, we’ve confirmed.”

“Mhm,” He nodded with a small chuckle, “We have confirmed.” He leaned down to give her a soft kiss, not even a few seconds later his phone buzzed.

He reached over to grab it, smiling at the screen, and showing her.

I was wondering when you guys were gonna post something. Mikey had sent. It’s been fucking long enough.

She should’ve stopped staring after a few seconds, but she couldn’t help it. She rarely felt this confident in herself, but just as quickly as the adrenaline boost of self love hit her, the sobering of imperfections came knocking too.

Dressed in a long green strapless dress that was built to just fit her, she looked and felt like a Barbie. Her makeup team had really done quite an impressive and good number on her face, exemplifying all her good features perfectly, and covering up or minimizing the ones she didn’t like so much. Her hair hung in a low, sleek pony tail against her back, her nails for once long with extensions that would be removed for sure in the next two to three days.

“You’re absolutely perfect, ya know that?” She heard him, turning around to find her boyfriend with a big smile as one of his hands placed itself lightly on the small of her back. She softly smiled up at him, and he swore his heart skipped a beat and nearly sent him into cardiac arrest the way her big eyes stared right into his.

“Not necessarily, but thank you.” She responded in a small voice. She always got nervous before events- he learned that quickly after having to be on text and call standby as she repeated her own self-doubts while spiraling about things going wrong. No one would have ever known- her presence on carpets, stages, and everything in between was flawless.

And now here they stood for the first time together doing this. Him in a traditional and well-fit suit, her in the dress that would put anyone else wearing the color green to shame. He gave her one good look up and down (what was realistically the dozenth already), relishing in the fact that he was merely an accessory to her- and was blessed to be one at that.

There were already rumors circulating everywhere about the potential for them to show up together tonight. It was the ideal place to hard launch, and after dating for just over six months it finally felt like a good time to let the world see them together in all their glory. She was feeling more confident in him, and he was honestly just along for the ride- a very happy passenger too.

“How do we act?” She asked next, his hand still sat on her back as she leaned more into him so their bodies were no more than two inches apart.

“Like how we normally act.” He replied confidently. “I’m not sure anyone will be genuinely surprised- people have been expecting this.”

“When people set expectations about things they don’t know, it typically doesn’t work out the way they want.” She replied quickly.

He knew better than to ruin her hair or makeup, but at this moment he couldn’t see her for that, so he leaned in without hesitation and gave her a soft kiss as an attempt to calm her nerves.

“We’re not here to appease to anyone’s wants or expectations of us.” He explained in a tone just above a whisper, as if they weren’t the only two people in the room. “We’re here to be with each other- not to explain us.”

It was a relative blur, and she thanked the blinding lights of paparazzi that overtook her vision and senses as soon as they took a single step onto the carpet together. She had never heard the two of their names meshed together so many times in such a short period of time. It felt weird to hear them coming out together from other people’s mouths- but it also felt reaffirming.

His hand had initially snuck around her back, resting itself on the other side of her waist and pulling her close to him. The slight warmth from his body made her feel okay, an emotion she typically had to forcefully place at bay here but was tamed solely by him.

They gradually moved their way down at the instruction of the event staff, and narrowly at the last stop he leaned in to whisper to her, hiding his lips behind the back of her head to not let anyone get a chance to overhear what he was going to say.

“I think I have a new appreciation for my name when it’s next to yours.” He said with a small smile, pulling away and looking down at her.

She couldn’t help herself but to break out into a bigger smile, one that wasn’t posed for the cameras but more authentic. She usually hated her full smile, the cheekiness and roundness of her face making the pictures look unbearable to her, but in that moment it didn’t matter. She playfully nudged him a bit as he resumed his position with his arm around her waist, but this time she placed her hand on his chest, angling herself towards him.

He authentically smiled, not expecting it, and had to resist the urge running deep within him to kiss her. But no one here deserved to see that part of them- no one here deserved to know her like he did.

“New album stuff?” He asked, walking over to the living room with a “new” cup of coffee in his hands (this was his third refill in the last two hours). She nodded from where she sat on the floor, back against the bottom of the vintage arm chair she fell in love with and insisted on having to decorate their new place. Their place.

Gerard had always respected her boundaries with her music. She was being incredibly secretive about her upcoming project- despite it essentially being finished from what he had gathered- but he also knew incredibly well how labels worked. And despite both of them being in the industry, her upcoming album was expected to be gigantic. Both in the reception of it and in the work itself.

“They just began pressing all the vinyls.” She smiled up at him.

“When are you gonna see it?” He asked back, sitting down on the couch and leaning over the coffee table to grab his sketch book and pencils again.

“Hopefully within two weeks.” She shrugged. “That’s if everything goes right. Not that I think it won’t- there’s just… a lot.” He looked up for his eyes to meet her, giving her a sympathetic look and nod.

“Regardless of how it goes, you have worked your ass off for this.” He explained. “Critics will always say shit because they’re jaded and subjective. Most of them haven’t even made music. And your fans are gonna love anything you put out.” She softly smiled back.

“Thanks.” She said. “I can’t wait for you to hear it.”

“Don’t you have the entire record on your computer?” He asked, eyeing the laptop that sat in her lap. She rolled her eyes.

“It’s not that simple.” She replied, closing it and getting up. “Besides, I want it to be a surprise.” She finished, walking over to him and giving him a kiss on the cheek.

“So are you flattered or what?” Their manager approached where he sat on the bus. He was so lost in the trance of finding the necklace that she had been dying to get for ages online as a surprise album release gift that he didn’t hear a thing.

“Hm?” He asked looking up at him.

“You’re the muse for the number one song on Billboard right now.” His manager replied with a small smile, arms crossed over each other.

“Right.” He awkwardly responded.

He was, indeed, the quite obvious muse for her first single, which happened to somehow skyrocket on the charts as soon as it released and within a few days was impossible not to hear. Whether it be radio, playlists, grocery stores, social media- the damn song was everywhere.

By no means was he upset, he just wasn’t expecting it. He was actively figuring out how to deal with the amount of empty and comical threats he got from fan accounts saying they were fully prepared to fight him if it meant even a shot at being with her. Also, while he had approved of the lyrics she had showed him (well, specifically the incredibly, borderline obvious, suggestive ones) it still made him feel a blush grow on his face when he heard them over and over again.

And the fucking cherry on top was the music video. At this point, he had seen her in many different ways, doing many different things (if you catch the drift) but as soon as he watched it he felt like he was falling for her all over again, ten-fold this time. It also made him begin to seriously question why the fuck you were with him, and simultaneously wonder if all the manifesting bull shit the merch girl was telling them about was something he should look into given that he needed some form of magic to get someone so out of his league.

“Good luck when the album drops, man.” His manager smiled, “Can’t wait to see all the teenage girls that want to band together and fight you.”

Gerard didn’t drink anymore and hadn’t for a while. But he did stare with a smile as she took a shot of tequila and her face immediately grew into a sour and twisted expression.

“Fuck that was worse than I remember.” She said through a small cough, grabbing the water by her and downing a chunk of it.

The low-key album release party was being held at their place. It was primarily close friends, the one producer she worked with on the record and her engineer, then the band as well as some of Gerard’s friends. Despite it being small, the place was buzzing under the dimmed lighting as there was consistently multiple conversations happening in the background, solid laughter mixed in too, and her album playing track by track in order softly in the background.

She sat on the floor, back against the couch, in a simple shirt and jeans, him right behind and next to her sat on the couch. She wasn’t drunk, but was definitely tipsy as she laid her head on his jean clad knee. He looked down at her with a smile, running a hand through her loose hair.

“I love you so much.” She smiled up at him. “Thank you for being such an incredible muse.”

He had been complimented plenty of times by critics, reporters, fans- but nothing even came remotely close to that comment.

“Baby, this is all you.” He insisted with a smile back. “We wouldn’t be here if you weren’t so damn incredible at everything you do.”

She sighed happily, closing her eyes for a moment.

“I’m so fucking glad you bumped into me.” She said. “I was so pissed at first and so tired and hot and sweaty- I thank the universe everyday for making that happen.”

“I do too, sweetheart.” He said, letting his smile melt into a sincere and content one. It only felt right. “I do too.”

#my chemical romance #gerard way #my chem #my chemical gee #my chemical gerard #gerard way x reader #gerard way fanfiction #mcr gerard #my chemical romance x reader #mcr x reader #mcr fanfiction #mcr #gee way #gerard way x you #gerard way x y/n

97 notes · View notes

harmonictechnicality · 2 years ago

Text

model!steve and voice actor!Eddie (part 2)

part 1 here | ao3 link here | the temp is up on this one so like... dni if under 18 pls

Steve spends a lot of his spare time at the gym. Comes with the territory of modeling or whatever. Gotta keep himself strong, without developing bulging muscles. Gotta keep himself toned, without becoming too lean. Somewhat of a balancing act to this media fuckery circus.

Times are changing, yeah maybe. But not for puffy-lipped preps with killer bone structure. Steve still falls under the category of stereotypical Pretty Boy, and he’s chill with that. Fucking owns it.

Most days…

He’s currently cooling down on the treadmill - brisk walk, almost a jog. It’s a good pace for multitasking some adult shit that he needs to get done. Staying hydrated, keeping his photoshoot calendar up-to-date, answering a few emails. Yada yada.

Steve takes a swig of his seaweed (more like arsenic) smoothie. Opens the top email that reads:

The Fallen King - Final Commercial Cut

Right. Steve almost forgot about this particular shoot. Well, tried to repress the thoughts of that mega-douche director who kept referring to Steve’s ass as ‘prime real estate.’ Fucking creep.

He scrolls down to the attached file and slides his headphones back over his ears.

The ad opens with a wide shot of Steve draped over the throne, fog swelling around the bottom of the screen. The music is an eerie cello solo, set to a heavy bassline.

Just another oversexualized cologne campaign, he thinks. Probably will barely feature the product because they paid big money for Steve’s body. Gotta get their fill of it (ha, they fucking wish Steve would fill them up).

But then the narration rolls into his ears and the room does a somersault. Practically inverts it’s axis at the sound dripping in Steve’s ears:

‘The mighty will fall from grace…’

“Oh shit.” Steve almost wipes out on the treadmill, has to catch his fall on the side bars. His knees are tingling, calves molten and shaky. Already half hard, which is definitely going to be a problem in these flimsy, mesh gym shorts.

‘Forbidden love and public slander…’

But that voice. That tone. That sinful register set in the minor key of Holy Fuck.

‘Will bring them to their knees.’

Alright, that fucking does it. Steve pauses the video before he’s fully tenting-out in a goddamn fitness center. Packs up his shit, chucks the sludge smoothie in the trash, and finds an empty stall. Emphatically locks it.

“Agh, damnit!” Steve's thumb slips over the screen and exits out of the video. It scrolls back to the top of the email - a new message has been added to the chain.

Seriously, what obnoxious fucker does ‘Reply All’ these days?

The new message reads:

Great work, team. (Sorry for being such a vocal slut.)

(… Not that sorry though.) - Eddie Munson

That’s right - the voice artist. Almost didn’t recognize the voice, but the repressed memory of that day comes flying to the surface when Steve sees the name.

He recalls the guy being objectively cute too. Not in the California ‘sun-kissed skin’ kind of way. More in the Seattle ‘rain forces me to be a pale homebody’ kind of way. His eyes were something else though. They reminded Steve of the sepia tone filters he used in his early modeling portfolio. No way in hell Steve could ever forget knockout eyes like that.

The locker room is empty. Steve reopens the video, raises the volume high enough to mute out the thin hum from the air conditioning unit. Only wants to hear Eddie’s voice. That’s it.

He’s already touching himself when the first phrase falls out of the headphones. Can’t even help it now that he’s alone. It’s all too good. Works himself up all stuffy and sensitive by the time the new part comes up:

‘Drenched in their guilt. Soaked in their shame.’

Fucking christ.

‘Choking on worthless confessions…’

Nope. Nope. Absolutely not. Choking? Worthless? What is this, a sado hotline? Steve feels the heat spreading on his neck, flushed over in a non-exercise way. There’s a thump in his dick, has to squeeze his fingers around it. Like his body needs a reminder to calm the fuck down.

‘Until all that is left of them is desolate darkness.’

Pretty sure the raspy exhale after every phrase is going to do Steve in, saturate his last ounce of dignity with want. Eddie’s breathing is taking Steve’s breath away, and that’s an outright mindfuck. Earfuck.

Something is getting fucked, and somehow, Steve still needs more.

While the song sustains, Steve strokes himself to the percussive rhythm.

‘The Fallen King. The scent of secrets.’

The hiss on the last syllable fades into the music till everything fizzles out, going dead silent.

Well, everything goes silent except for Steve, who is utterly rattled. Can hear his dense breath and it’s way too noisy for a public space. The pulse in his neck is irregular, hitched the fuck up. His smartwatch is buzzing, alerting him that his heart rate is elevated, which duh. His whole body feels like it underwent some sexual awakening in the middle of a fitness center.

And, sure. That’s a common place for people to realize how gay and desperate they are, but not like this. Not with zero visuals of sweaty bodies.

Before he starts the video over to… finish the job, a phone call lights up his screen. Because of course it does.

He reads the name and swipes it open. “What’s up, Buckley?”

“I need coffee.” Robin whines, already pouting into the phone speaker no doubt.

“You always need coffee.”

“Yeah but like… it tastes better when you buy me coffee.”

“Oh, so you want to mooch off of your own client?” Steve teases because he can. They can annoy the shit out of each other and write it off as endearment. “Pretty unprofessional of you, Ms. Manager.”

Robin groans. Makes it a long one too - probably to show off both her annoyance and lung capacity. “Fuck all the way off, you were my friend first. Always friends first.”

“Always friends first.” Steve agrees. She’s right, usually is about most things. Robin has been his manager since his last agency went bankrupt from pouring their funds into promoting Fyre Fest. And everyone knows that turned out to be an entire fuckshow.

Honestly, it’s easier this way - Robin being his manager. They get to hang out more, he has more input on gigs that he’s interested in…

Interested in. Huh. The metaphorical lightbulb flicks on in Steve’s voice-drunk brain. Having his best friend as his manager is also convenient when Steve needs the phone number of a certain co-worker.

“Alright, fine.” Steve has a sly grin on as he talks. “I’ll bring over some coffee.”

“Thank god.”

“If!”

“Ugh.”

He huffs out a laugh. “If you can send me the cast and crew contact sheet from the Fallen King commercial.”

“Ew, why?” Robin asks, sounds totally repulsed. Valid, that shoot was Objectification Station.

But truly, Steve’s not in the mood to make up an excuse. He’s sore and sweaty and half-hard. So he just gets to the damn point. “Look, do you want coffee or not?”

“Okay okay.” That’s one way to speed up the process. Caffeine threats - works every time. “Dropping the file to you now.”

“You’re the best.” Steve sings.

“I know, I know.” And the line clicks dead.

Okay. This is not a booty call, it’s not.

Steve is just texting a semi-stranger to tell him that his voice is potentially the hottest thing he’s ever heard. Okay, he’ll definitely phrase it better than that, maybe throw a few emojis in there to normalize the tone. Soften it up to sound very un-stalkery.

Yeah. Not a booty call. And if Eddie happens to send an audio message, and Steve happens to jerk off to it… still not a booty call, right?

Pathetic, maybe. But not basic, thank fuck.

He types, then re-types the message out way too many times before settling on this:

Steve: Great work on the commercial voiceover! Got ur number from the call sheet. hope that’s cool.

Steve hits send before realizing he didn’t have the goddamn common sense to introduce himself. He’s not even a rookie at hookups, why is he suddenly so frazzled by this guy?

“This is Steve by the way…” he mumbles into an audio message. Hits send, then quickly makes another:

“The… model guy.”

The model guy? What in the flustered hell is going on with him?

A chime notification goes off maybe two minutes after Steve sends the last message. Which is like… hot. Shameless fast texters are a millennial turn-on, for sure.

It’s a voice text, so Steve takes thirty seconds to calm down whatever involuntary throb just happened in his sweatpants. He sucks in some air and presses play:

“Pretty sure all the kids these days just send a ‘u up’ message to people they wanna dick down at midnight.”

Damn. Eddie’s voice sounds totally different, but just as sexy. Like amateur porn sexy. Is amateur audio porn a thing? It should be.

Steve quickly saves the audio file and types back.

Steve: Ok pls don’t mention ‘kids’ while I’m trying to flirt with u

Eddie: Waitwaitwait So we're definitely flirting right now? I actually interpreted that correctly?

Steve: Like u said It’s midnight So… *shrug emoji*

And a phone call comes through. Eddie’s contact name flashing in a harsh light, too blinding and too unexpected. Steve’s heart is hammering at his rib cage, suddenly so fucking nervous. He waits until the last ring to answer, buys himself some time cause god knows, he needs it.

Steve takes a breath and swallows. “He-”

“Okay, so you do realize this is the sewer rat voice actor guy from the commercial shoot, right?” Eddie interrupts, sounds out of breath. “And not like… a fellow model or Timothee Chalamet’s cousin or something?”

That earns a hearty laugh and eye-roll from Steve. “He is so not my type.”

“Thought he was everyone’s type.”

“Nah.” Steve rolls onto his belly, very giddy and disarmed by the ease of the exchange. His nerves are set aside, replaced with his usual confidence. “More into sewer rat voice actor guys.”

“That… is some very specific criteria.” Eddie coughs or maybe it's just a dry laugh. He sounds pleased as hell, so laugh seems more likely. “Holy shit, I’m flirting with a model!”

“You’re cute." Steve should not be so charmed right now, but the impulsive honesty is really doing it for him. "Dorky, but cute.”

Eddie mumbles something incoherent, then clears his throat. Speaks quieter this time. “So why’d you text?”

“So why’d you call?”

“Just, uh… needed confirmation that this is real life.”

Steve lets out a ‘hmm,’ thinks of a proper response to that. “If I was there, I could pinch you. Ya know... so you’d know it’s real.” Okay. Maybe not proper, but whatever. It’s late. His brain is half scrambled from hormones and exhaustion, cut him some slack.

“Would do a lot more than pinch you if you were actually here.” And sure, Eddie might have mumbled that, but Steve clearly heard it. He heard exactly what Eddie just suggested.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Tell me about it.”

“Fuck, we’re doing this?” Eddie whispers.

Steve turns onto his back again, lets his hand wander down. “If you’re into that. Like hearing your voice, Eddie.”

“Like hearing you say my name like that.” And Eddie sounds like he means it. His tone is smoothing over, the same way it did in the narration. “You sound so worked up already.”

Steve moans, chest falling hard enough that the phone slips. Has to reposition it to get all that good vocal seduction back in his ear.

“God, wish I could see what you look like right now.” Eddie exhales, getting that nice rasp that Steve likes so much. It’s sultry and rich. Breathless at just the right moments. “Bet you’re lying down, aren’t you? Phone wedged between your neck and ear cause your hands are too busy to hold it properly. Am I right?”

“Yeah.” Steve pushes past the waistband of his sweatpants, then his boxers.

Eddie hums. Growls. “The things I’d do to you like that. Lying down, looking so eager to please. Saw how good you are at taking direction that day of the shoot. Does that apply in the bedroom too, baby?”

“It… fuck.” Steve strokes himself slowly. Can barely get the words out cause it feels like he's chewing on Eddie's voice. Swallowing every syllable. “Yeah, it does.”

“See - that’s the problem, isn’t it?”

“Problem?”

“That I don’t know what you’re into. How you like it.”

“Pretty open to… trying things.” Steve reassures, eyes closing to soak in every sensation. “Just keep talking.”

And thank all that is holy, Eddie does just that. He keeps talking. “Can’t stop thinking about that pretty neck of yours. How I’d kiss it, suck on it till your skin goes tender and soft under my lips. Till your head rolls back like it did in that video.”

Eddie's words are syrup. Heavy and tempting. “I’d let you rest it on my shoulder while I get my hands all over you. See what sweet spots drive you wild, get you to squirm for me.”

Steve's grip tightens, pumping at a pace that’s close to getting fucked. A pace that makes it easier to pretend that it’s Eddie’s hand wrapped around him, making his vision blurred and spotty - even with his eyes screwed shut.

“Eddie, you’re… oh my god.” Steve whines, knows it must be pretty fucking loud with the speaker smushed against his cheek. “You’re so good at this.”

Eddie shushes him, sounds like he’s snickering a bit. “I’d tease you like that until your thighs start to tremble. Until you beg me to go further. End the torture.”

“Fucking christ…please.” Guess Steve really is that good at taking direction. Or maybe he’s extra easy for guys that turn his brain into liquor. Too busy begging to know which one it might be. “Keep going.”

Eddie’s laugh is dark and rough. “Sounds nice hearing you beg like that. Like sin.”

Feels like sin too.

Steve’s fingers are slicked nicely with precome. The friction of his palm is making everything warmer, better. And stirring all of those feelings up with Eddie’s voice? Fucking hell, Steve is close. He’s so damn- “Okay, okay. If we don’t stop, I’m gonna-”

“I know.” Eddie purrs, sweetly mean. “Thought that was the point.”

“Cannot believe I'm about to say this, but maybe…” Steve has to dig his hand out from his boxers to complete the sentence. Knocks his head against the wall because his behavior is totally batshit right now. “Maybe I want to see you again first? Is that weird?”

His skin sort of tingles from going this long without finishing. Never solved the blue-balling issue back at the gym either, so Steve’s on the verge of climax insanity right now. Didn’t think he’d discover an edging kink at the ripe age of twenty-five, but eureka. Here it is.

“Not weird.” Eddie’s voice returns back to a calmer one. The one that doesn’t make Steve want to bend over and get fucked so hard that his organs shift around. “I mean, I’m weird, sure. But wanting to complete this in person is not weird. Very un-weird, in fact.”

“You talk a lot.”

“Yeah well… voice actor.” Eddie says, sort of deadpan. “You couldn’t see that, but I just did ‘razzle dazzle’ hands.”

Shit, Steve really likes this guy. He just used the phrase ‘razzle dazzle hands,’ and Steve is still horny for him. Wow.

“Is tomorrow too soon?” Steve manages to say before overthinking it.

“Tomorrow-tomorrow, or like today-tomorrow?” Eddie asks. “Cause it’s past midnight.”

Right. Booty call time moves at an entirely different pace than normal time does. “Today-tomorrow. If you’re free.”

“Free as a dead composer’s anthology of music.” Eddie answers happily.

Steve opens his mouth to respond, then shuts it because what? What does that even mean? Is that a yes or a no? Goddamnit, his head hurts. Too many questions, not enough orgasms.

“Most classical music is royalty-free.” Eddie clears his throat, sounds like he’s tapping on something. “… So yeah. I’m free.”

“Right.” Steve chuckles, hard to believe he’s unapologetically gushing. “Well, I’ll see you tomorrow, Eddie.”

“Great. See you today, Steve.” Eddie is still snorting at his own joke while the call ends.

They haven’t sorted out any of the details yet, but it doesn’t matter. It’s happening. It’s real.

So real, that he wants an actual date with Eddie before steamy phone sex. He wants to make Eddie laugh before making him come. That's like... unheard of for Steve. Uncharted.

Damn.

Today-tomorrow can’t come soon enough.

#steddie #steddie fic #this is inspired by the unhinged ao3 tag generator #one more part after this #hope that you like it xx

1K notes · View notes

thescarletnargacuga · 3 months ago

Note

It's Showtime!

After the events of yet another, scary adventure, the group wakes up the next day to see- wait... Caine? Hellooo? You there?

Caine is gone, and the day remains without an adventure. This isn't like him. Pomni sets out to find him while the others kick back and enjoy life without the annoying pair of dentures.

Pomni's now... Worried. Extremely worried. Her head begins to spiral... But she soon finds Caine... Sleeping? He can sleep now? And why on the floor-

A message pops over his head.

"Low Power. Charge in Progress."

After a whole day of running... Maybe she could use a nap too...

The two settle down for a nice cuddle.

- 🪿

SLEEP MODE

A SHOWTIME ONESHOT

WARNING: none

~~~

"WATCH OUT!" Ragatha called out to Pomni as she dodged the flying bouncy ball. The ball bounced and nearly hit the jester in the face, but she managed to suck just in time.

The ball ricocheted off of a wall and smacked Gangle in the face, breaking her comedy mask. "Ow..." She held her non-existent nose with a whimper. "I don't wanna play this game anymore."

"Too bad, Gangle! Caine is taking forever and I'm bored!" Jax tossed another extremely bouncy ball. It bounced wildly all over the open space, knocking Kinger over, and flew at Zooble.

Zooble held out their clawed hand, stopping the ball dead on the sharp tips. It's slowly deflated and flopped to the floor. "At least this is more entertaining than whatever Caine comes up with. I could watch you idiots knock each other around all day."

Pomni got up from the floor. "None of you find it weird that he hasn't shown up yet? I mean, it's kind of hard to tell how much time has passed but... it's felt like a lot."

Ragatha picked up a bouncy ball. "I'm sure It's nothing to worry about. He's never done this before, but Caine is always trying to surprise us with something new." She gives a forced laugh. "It's fine. Everything is fine. Right guys?"

No one answered her. This was a weird situation, but denial was the first course of action for many of them. Kinger sat up, his eyes rolling from getting hit. "Did someone say something about an insect collection?"

"No Kinger, but I did say HEADS UP!" Jax launched a ball at full speed at Ragatha. She brought her arms up, still holding her own ball, out of reflex. The two balls collided, sending Jax's back at him and slamming him in the face. Ragatha was pushed back, but not hard.

The ball bounced off of every wall at blinding speed. Pomni had enough and ran from the chaos as the others sought cover. She ran all the way out of the circus tent. Taking a deep breath of the "fresher" air, she looked around. Nothing seems different or out of place. The sky was still half day and half night, the digital lake was undisturbed, and the carnival played inviting music.

The sun and moon stared back down at her, but said nothing. She felt awkward so she walked around avoiding eye contact with the celestial bodies. "Caine..? Hey, Caine? You out here? Uh... Everyone's getting pretty antsy, and I- uh, we were just wondering if you're okay?"

With no answer, she walked a bit faster. "Caine!? Caaaaaine?? Ca-"

A snore caught her attention. She stopped in her tracks and listened. Another snore sounded from the digital tree next to her. "Caine?" She looked up, unable to see the top of the branches. Determined to see if it was him, she climbed. The fluffy green top of the tree felt oddly solid, she could grip it like an overfilled bean bag.

At the top, she found Caine lounging on his back. His teeth were closed and he cradled the back of his head with his hands. Cartoonish Z's lazily floated off of him. His chest rose and fell as though he were breathing.

Pomni scooted closer to him on her knees. "Caine?" She said softly, gently nudging him. A red loading bar of some kind popped up, it indicated something was low.

"Huh...guess even AIs need sleep." She looked at the circus tent where the others were still likely trying to end each other with bouncy balls. She didn't feel like going back to that. "Mind if I join you?"

She laid down next to him and closed her eyes. This was a rather nice napping spot. The tree was comfortable and the grounds were surprisingly peaceful when Caine wasn't blaring thematic music. She scooted herself just a little closer, feeling his relaxed weight press down the leaves on his side. There was a comfort to it.

The bar reached green, making a light ding sound, and the Z's over Caine's head popped out of existence like balloons. Caine yawned and stretched. He hasn't had a recharge that nice in a while. He felt rested and ready to make another adventure!

Just as he was about to summon his cane, his hand touched an unexpected texture next to him. He startled and flew away a few feet, making all kinds of surprised garble. Seeing a still sleeping Pomni silenced him real quick.

He slowly flew back down to her, his eyes taking in her peaceful disposition. He's never seen her so relaxed. Resting down on the tree top again, he carefully reached out to tuck away the hair that fell in front of her face. "Wow..."

Maybe the next adventure could wait just a little longer. Pomni wasn't done recharging. He took off his tux coat and draped it over her. She couldn't be cold, but it felt like the thing to do.

Pomni stirred lightly, and he was afraid he accidentally woke her up, but she rolled into him and buried her face into his chest.

It took very ounce of willpower for him to not have an over-the-top reaction. He managed to keep it to a blush on the outside, but on the inside he was doing backflips amongst fireworks while singing Ode to Joy.

Caine snapped quietly and shooed the sun away. Humans preferred night, he'd been told. Nighttime ambiance played a soft symphony of crickets and frogs. He smiled and cuddled Pomni. This felt so nice. He hoped it would last. "Sleep well, my dear. I will wait for you."

#he eepy #the amazing digital circus #tadc #tadc caine #tadc fanfiction #tadc pomni #tadc showtime #showtime fanfic #showtime #showtime shipping #caine x pomni

82 notes · View notes

covetyou · 1 year ago

Text

send in the clown

ao3 ⋆ main masterlist ⋆ series masterlist

pairing: Dieter Bravo x f!reader rating: Explicit (18+ only!) warnings: clowns, dubcon, unprotected P in V, anal play, grinding, titty play (clown motorboating), drug use, hotboxing, the shoes stay on, unconventional use of grease paint word count: 4.1k summary: You lose your scarf on a visit to the carnival. Send in Dieter Bravo - washed up actor turned circus clown.

A/N: Happy Halloweekend, friends! Originally this was going to be some dark evil fic with a murderous clown and some non-con, but basically I can't do that. So here you have washed up actor clown Dieter instead, and he's going to rock your world. You're welcome.

This is not inherently scary, but probably something to avoid if you really hate clowns. It's essentially just clown porn. I'm not sorry.

10 points to anyone who can spot the Oscar.

follow @covetedfics and turn notifications on for updates on future work

Want Dieter at the carnival, but don't want the clowns? Check out Candy by @secretelephanttattoo

Loud noises and knives and fire and bodies bent into strange shapes.

It sounded more like a horror movie down on paper, but the lights and music were dazzling, amazing, turning something terrifying into something beautiful.

You sipped too sweet drinks and munched on overpriced snacks as you watched on with your friends, laughing and gasping with them as the sights before you unfolded. A tiny woman bending herself over backwards, shooting apples off of people's heads with a bow and arrow clenched in her delicate feet. A couple swinging through the air, no wire in sight, fabric fluttering along behind them as they flew. Sword swallowers, fire breathers, acrobats, magicians, clowns.

Clowns.

You were mesmerized by it all, taken in so completely, that when you all stumbled out after several hours and made your way home, you didn't even notice you'd left your scarf until you moved to pull it off as you stepped in your front door. They weren't in town for long, things like this never were, so you turn around and head back to your car, driving back the way you came until the big top comes back into view.

It had been almost an hour since you left and the parking lot was mostly empty now, save for a few cars closer to the entrance. The sign was no longer illuminated, but lights shone brightly from inside the gate as a handful of people bustled around, packing up for the night.

You make your way to the ticket booth, spotting a grizzly old man with a toothpick between his teeth closing up, pulling a small box filled with ticket stubs and loose change out from the desk.

"We're closed," he grumbles, not bothering to look at you as he turns the key, locking the booth, and stomps away.

"I know," you shout, feet squelching in a wet patch of grass as you stumble after him. "I lost something, left it here. Do you have a lost and found?"

He stops, eyes you up, then sends you inside, directing you to an open sided tent. You walk in semi-darkness, listening out for the shouts and jokes of the cast and crew ending their day.

Two people sit there, feet up on a box and cards in hand. One has a threadbare sweater thrown on over a skimpy lyrca outfit adorned in sequins, the other looks like he could have been in the audience if it wasn't for the peak of tattoos from the top of his hoodie and across his hands.

They don't notice you standing there, so you clear your throat. Sequins is just about to play a card, but halts mid way through the movement and looks up, raising his painted on eyebrows at you.

"We're closed," Tattoos repeats, not bothering to turn to look your way.

"I lost a scarf. Was told to come here," you explain. You just want your scarf back.

Sequins slaps the card down on the box then sits back, eyeing you up and down just as the grizzled old man did, crossing his toned arms over his chest. "What's it look like?"

"Woolen, red and brown kind of checks. It's pretty big, almost like a blanket?"

Tattoos scoffs, finally turning to look at you. "Oh yeah, that one. Bravo the Clown took it. No one ever comes back for shit they lose at the circus, toots. If you want it back you're gonna have to go ask him."

"Okay, and where can I find this Bravo the Clown."

They send you off to a trailer on the other side of the camp. You hear their laughter as you turn your back and walk away, squelching back through patches of wet grass that hadn't been boarded over.

The trailer is worn and old, a colorful tarp covering the front window and stapled into the ground. "Bravo" is scrawled on the door in sharpie, scribbles of other color around it so it looks like the name has exploded from the door. There's a faint light from inside, and you can hear music playing, but there's no answer when you knock.

You try the handle, the door opening a crack before jamming. You tug harder, and the door swings open, nearly knocking you down onto the wet ground.

Smoke billows out. You almost think there's a fire when you smell something earthy and herbal. Definitely not a fire.

You call out over the music, a repetitive carnival jingle, and when there's no response, you climb up the few steps and step foot into the trailer of Bravo the Clown.

It's dark inside, the smoke barely cleared and the tarp masking any light from outside in a red haze. The herbal stench in the air is thicker inside, covering the stale musky smell of sweat and dust.

When your eyes adjust to the dark through the haze of smoke, you see the place is a mess. Wigs of all shapes and colors are thrown haphazardly onto a crooked shelf on the wall, something shiny hidden behind a puff of rainbows. Shoes litter the walkway, and clothes and costume pieces are strewn over a bench seat. There's a patch where it looks like someone has been sitting, and next to it, your scarf, screwed tight into a messy ball and pushed down into the rest of the clothing.

You approach, going to grab your scarf and leave, when you're distracted by a long mirror sitting to one side, a worn chair in front of it. There's a vanity where brushes and pallettes are thrown, pots of grease paint left open and discarded.

You drag your fingers across the worn wooden vanity. Picking up one pot of paint - a vibrant white - you are moments from swiping your finger across the pristine surface when a gruff voice startles you.

"What the fuck?!"

You spin, paint falling from your hand and clattering to the ground. Stood there is a half man, half clown, joint perched between his lips, makeup smudged over his face. His hair is sweaty, sticking up at all angles, wig nowhere to be seen. You cast your eyes down him. An oversized striped shirt is pulled open, graying undershirt beneath on show, sweat stains at the armpits and a wet patch on the hem. His red pants are unbuttoned, slung low on his hips, his suspenders unclipped at the front and hanging down low behind him. Large shoes jut out from the bottoms, bulbous and curving slightly upward.

"What the fuck are you doin' in here," he says from around the joint, throwing his hands up in the air.

You stumble over your words, stuttering a few times before you can spit it out. He looks at you like you're stupid, like you're the one with paint smeared over your face.

"I- I lost my scarf. They said you had it, I'm sorry, I-"

"What? Do you think breaking and entering is okay because I'm a fuckin' clown," he yells, pulling the door closed and slamming it hard when it gets jammed again.

He stalks toward you, blowing a puff of smoke into your face, making your eyes water, before he flops down into the worn chair in front of the vanity. It creaks as he stretches back, the tip of one of his too big shoes running up your leg.

"Do you think stealing is okay because you're a clown?" you retort, hands on your hips, shaking your head in disbelief. You never pictured your evening ending in an argument with a half-dressed clown.

More smoke puffs from his mouth as he laughs at you, face contorting strangely as he smiles with a down turned red mouth smeared across his own.

"What're you going to give me," he says, pulling his shirt off and throwing it onto the pile on the bench.

"What?"

He takes another long drag on his joint, and lets the smoke billow from his lungs before he sits back and replies. "For the scarf. What's it worth to you."

You watch his hand stroke down his belly, past the wet patch on his t-shirt and down to the front of his pants. He adjusts himself, rolling his hips as he palms his cock through the fabric.

You swallow a lump in your throat. Maybe it's the smoke going to your head, the haze of the room making you feel stuffy and floaty, clouding your judgement. Or maybe you've always had a fucking thing for clowns, you flithy b-

"Anything," you say, before you can stop yourself. He laughs, throwing his head back as he flicks ash onto the floor.

"Then take that coat off and come here. Show me them pretty tits."

You unbutton your coat, throwing it onto the bench with your scarf. You look down, thick sweater obstructing any view he'd have of your chest, and decide to yank that off too, pulling it over your head and discarding it with your coat. You take a deep breath, lungs filling with smoke and the sweaty smell of Bravo the Clown, before you pull down your tank top and bra, pushing your tits out of their cups and exposing them to the cold air.

"Can I have my scarf back now?"

"No! I want a closer look," he pats his lap, visible tent now forming in his red pants. "Come sit down on Bravo the Clowns lap, sugar tits," he says with husky laugh.

You shuffle forward trying not to trip over his shoes as you wonder how you'll perch on his lap with his knees spread so wide. You don't have long to think when he grabs you by the hand and pulls you onto him, your knees straddling either side of his thighs on the chair. It creaks and groans, and you shift on him, terrified the old chair is going to collapse with the weight of you.

He takes a final long drag from his joint, before snuffing it on the vanity and blowing the rest of the smoke into your face. You cough and splutter, blinking back watering eyes, when two large hands come up and grab your tits, massaging them as your chest heaves.

"Nice."

You blink again and look down to see him smiling at your tits, nodding as he massages them. He squeezes them together, watching as the skin squishes and puckers under his fingers. His hands are rough, fingernails painted with chipped polish that glitters in the dim lighting of his trailer. The grimace painted onto his face a stark contrast to the man underneath having the time of his life.

He's entranced, looking at your tits as he squeezes them. Painted fingertips come and pinch your nipples, pulling at them and making you gasp. Your back arches as he tugs, jiggling both as he pinches and laughing as they ripple with the movement. Your hips shift forward, nudging the hardness in his pants, and you fight to still yourself and not grind against him.

Before you know it, he's mashing your tits together again and shoving his face between them, rubbing the scruff of his jaw across your delicate skin, smearing paint all over your chest. He breathes in, and you feel him start to nip and suckle at your flesh as he rubs from side to side, burying his face in you as you push your hips down hard onto his cock.

As quick as he started, he flops back with a sigh, letting your tits fall heavy from his grasp. He smiles serenely as he looks at his handiwork, white and red and blue smeared into a mess of lavender across your tits.

"Think you liked that as much as I did," he taunts, gesturing to where your crotch sits flush against his stiff cock. "Shame you're in so many fuckin' layers." He runs a hand up your thigh, pinging the thickness of your tights against your leg before fingers play with the edge of your skirt where it's bunched around your thighs. He tugs it higher, pulling it to your waist.

He slides his hands back down, thumbs tracing down the front of your tights, teasing the apex of your thighs. One hand holds you there, stopping you from rocking into him again, whilst the other slides between you, rubbing broadly over your damp, covered crotch.

You close your eyes, letting him massage your pussy with his large hand, the sensation muted by so many layers. You rock into his palm as you float along on his lap, lost in his heavy breathing and the monotonous music still jingling along in the background.

He starts muttering, playing with the waistband of your tights, looking for a better way in, a way to get to your cunt that means you don't have to get off his lap. Your eyes snap open, you watch as he shrugs, a wicked smile pulling smeared makeup across his face. He pulls at your tights, gripping in both hands, tearing the fabric and exposing your inner thighs and panties to him. You can't help but moan as you feel his hand find your bare skin, and push against the wet front of your panties.

He lets out a low whistle, he'd barely touched you and you're dripping, grinding against his hand. "I can do one better than my hand," he says, waggling his eyebrows and looking down to his crotch. He's fully hard now, tent more impressive than the big tops outside.

Before he can say another word, you're reaching for his pants, pulling the zipper down and fishing out his rock hard length. He pulls both his arms back holding them up in mock surrender.

"Woah, woah!" he laughs.

You start to stroke his cock, pumping up and down, drawing the precum dripping from his tip over your palm and down his length with each stroke. He's watching you as you play with him, teasing his tip, reaching down into his red pants with your other hand to stroke his balls. They're heavy in your hand and sticky with sweat, but you squeeze them as you jerk him, making him groan, throw his head back and grip the arms of his chair.

Your pussy is cold without his hand, neglected. You don't want to let go of the weight of him, so you rub his tip over the front of your soaked panties, dragging it over your clit and applying pressure as you circle it with his head. You need more, more friction, so you hold him against you, rocking your hips against one side of him as your palm holds him to you in the other.

"Oh, hell yeah. Are you gonna come just from grinding on me?!" he says in disbelief, listening to your desperate moans as you jerk him against your pussy.

"No," you gasp, watching a bead of sweat trickle down the side of his face over the layer of greasy paint. The look of him alone is almost sending you stratospheric - the hair, the paint, the sweat - but the friction against your pussy isn't enough. "I want to put it in me."

He looks like he's won the lottery, wide eyes and thrilled face covered in paint nodding back at you, gesturing down to his dick as if to say help yourself.

You yank your panties to the side as you rock your hips into his cock, still holding him tight to you. Your slick pussy glides up and down his length, his head rubbing directly over your clit with each cant of your hips. You're moaning, wiggling on him as he watches straight down at his cock gliding against your bare cunt.

"Do you have a...?" you say, looking around the room for anywhere where he might stash a condom.

"Nope," he says, popping the P. "If you want it, you gotta take it like this."

You don't even consider any other option, you simply plunge your two middle fingers deep inside you, gathering your slick before smearing it around yourself and down the other side of Bravo the Clown's cock. You raise up on your knees, the chair creaking again as you move, and tease him against your entrance before taking him inside you.

"Oh, Bravo," you moan as you sink down onto his cock.

"Thank you, I'm here 'til Tuesday," he jokes, miming a bow from where he's seated. You bet he uses that on everyone. You soon wipe the smug grin off his face when you lift up and slam back down onto him, moaning his name once again before you begin fucking yourself on him in earnest. "Fuck."

"Dieter," he whines as you bounce on him, chasing a high that seems so out of reach with the high already muffling your head, "Name's Dieter."

"Dieter," you groan, bottoming out and groaning as you rock your hips over him, his cock seated deep in you.

"Fuck yeah, that's it," he grunts, clown shoes planted flat on the floor giving him leverage to pound up into you as you meet his every thrust. The chair is creaking, the trailer shaking, your lavender colored tits bouncing with each pound. His glazed over eyes watch them bounce in front of his face, a frown knitting his brows together and creasing the paint slathered on his skin as he tries to focus on your jiggling breasts. You think you see him go cross eyed as he tries to look at both of your nipples at once.

You're about to reach your hand down, circle your clit and bring yourself over the edge when arms wrap around you pulling you toward him, face falling into his neck. You can smell him more strongly here, the smell of sweat and weed clinging to him like a second skin. He holds onto your ass as he pounds up into you, pulling your cheeks apart. From this angle you can feel the grind of his hair against your clit with every thrust, and you muffle your moan into his neck.

"Ohhhhh."

"Gonna have to give me more than that, ain't been long since I last came," he huffs into your ear as he pulls you apart. You can feel the slick smear of grease paint on the side of your face.

There's another loud rip, your tights being torn again, this time from behind to expose more of your ass. He slows down the roll of his hips into yours as he pulls you deeper, and deeper, letting you grind down onto him even easier, the rub of him against your clit almost perfect now. The feel of his throbbing cock deep in your pussy, rough hands pulling your ass open and the scratch of his pubic hair on your clit feel so good, but you can't quite get there, whatever end you're trying to reach chased away by the fuzz in your head.

You whine from his neck, shifting your hips, trying to see if another spot would work better. Bravo - Dieter catches on and you hear his voice rumble from his chest as you rock on his lap.

"What's your favorite color?"

Now hardly seems like the time to get to know each other, but you humor him. "Blue," you breathe, rubbing your nose against his cheek, the smell of grease paint strong.

"Blue it is."

One arm lets go of you and you hear something on the vanity. You keep rocking your hips, still so close but not close enough. He brings his hand back and you gasp at a foreign sensation between your cheeks.

It's thick and slick, swiping smoothly across your asshole. You moan and gasp against his face, halting your movements and lifting off him a fraction. He laughs, swiping his slicked finger back and forth over your ass, circling the tight ring before dipping a fingertip in just as he pulls you back down flush onto his cock.

It's intense, and you moan so loud Tattoos and Sequins can probably hear you.

"And that's improv," he says, grunting as he picks up the pace of his thrusts again.

"Fuck, more," you beg, as he slips more of his fingertip into your ass, fucking you hard now as you grip his neck and bring your face in line with his.

He laughs at you, panting with the effort of fucking you. "Oh you're freaky, I like it."

"Watch who you're calling a freak, clown." Your grip his neck, holding on for dear life, unphased by the spread of his face paint onto your own skin.

Both arms are wrapped around you, one feeling at your entrance where he pounds into you, creamy slick coating his fingers with each thrust, the other between your cheeks, finger hooked into your tight hole. His finger tugs at you with each bounce onto his cock, stretching you and making you feel fuller than you are. You tilt your hips again, clit colliding with his thick hair, gridning against you, and you see stars glitter around your vision. They're so close now, the haze in your brain diffusing the light as it draws closer and closer.

"Hnnnng, I'm so close," you groan, rubbing your nose against his.

"Fuck," he mumbles as you pull his mouth onto yours. You kiss him, moaning and grinding against his lap, his tongue flicking against the seam of your lips just as the stars align and burst in your vision.

You come with a deep groan into his mouth, clenching tight around his cock as he frantically pounds up into you, hips stuttering as sweat drips down his face. You feel him start to twitch and then his cock is slipping from you, the remnants of your own orgasm fading as his cock slides against the outside of your cunt and spurts thick ropes of cum up against his belly, catching the already damp hem of his t-shirt.

You sit, faces together, panting for a moment, kissing him again just before he slides his finger from your ass, wiping the slick onto your exposed skin. When he looks down at his spent cock, he groans and huffs.

"Not again. I like this shirt."

He tuts at himself, flopping his arms down and looking around for something to tidy up with. He gives up, instead grabbing a tin from the vanity, popping it open, and starts to roll another joint on his chest.

You take that moment to climb off him, covering your pussy with the scrap of fabric of your panties, tugging your skirt down and your tank top up to cover as much of you as you can. The paint on your chest will stain, but you'll think about that later.

You throw your coat back on, not bothering with your sweater or the mess on your face, when Dieter addresses you again.

"Don't forget your scarf."

You roll your eyes, casting an exasperated look at him only to see him looking up at you with a mischievous glint in his eye.

You take your scarf, unbunching it and immediately sticking your hand in something wet and sticky. Even in the darkness, you can tell it's almost definitely cum. You look over to Dieter, disgusted look on your face as he shrugs his shoulders.

"If I'd known you'd come here begging for some of this," he gestures down his slouched body, "I never would've done that sweet cheeks. That one's on you."

"You're an ass."

"I'm not an ass, I'm the one and only Bravo the Clown." He spreads his arms wide, looking obscene with his flaccid cock hanging out of his bright red pants, belly covered in cum and face paint smeared all over his face. He places the unlit joint between his lips and you walk past him, pushing open the door to his trailer and stepping outside into the clear air. You take a deep breath, head already feeling clearer when you turn back, a question on your lips.

He's stood at the door of his trailer, tucking his cock back in, looking even crazier now that your head is clearer.

"The music?" you ask. It'd been playing this whole time, the same tune over and over.

"It's called method acting, sweet cheeks," he says with a wink, lighting his new joint and tilting his head back to expel a plume of smoke into the night sky.

You laugh, you can't help it, the man is a caricature even of himself, but there's something so intoxicating about it.

"Goodnight, Dieter."

You walk back to your car to the tinkling of fairground music and Bravo the Clown's raspy laughter.

tag list: @jupiter-soups @wannab-urs @bean-is-reading @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @youandmeand5bucks-blog @noisynightmarepoetry @bbyanarchist @vickywallace @kamcrazy123 @valkyreally @ashhlsstuff @a-literal-goblin

follow @covetedfics and turn notifications on for updates on future work

#dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo smut #dieter bravo fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #the bubble fanfiction #dieter bravo #cw clowns #fic: carnal-val #coveted fics

240 notes · View notes

spectreofgreengables · 25 days ago

Text

My First Actual Post And of Course It's Stolitz Fanfic

Anyway here's the beginning of the Stolitz fic that came to me in a dream :)

Synopsis:

17-year-old Blitz is one of the top circus performers in Hell, and that should come as no surprise, since he’s spent his entire life performing with his father’s circus. Behind the facade of dazzling glitter and daring feats of strength, however, the circus was no place for a young imp dealing with deteriorating mental health after the loss of his mother. Blitz’ father is determined to hide his son’s worsening mental health and confines Blitz to solitude when his panic attacks manifest.

Meanwhile, as Stolas approaches the date of his preordained marriage, he begins sneaking into the circus to spend his last moments of freedom watching his one and only friend shine on stage. One night, he notices that one performer fails to make it on stage during the second act, and decides to find out what has happened to his childhood friend. On discovering Cash's cruelty to his friend, he helps Blitz escape his dangerous home life.

...

Fifty feet in the air, suspended by nothing but a hoop on a wire and his own strength, Blitz was in his element. His entire life had been spent swinging from ropes, scaling daunting poles, and diving into open air to the uproarious cheers of the circus audience. He’d been able to suspend his own body weight from his arms before he’d learned to walk, and for the past decade he’d been drawing crowds every night to witness the Amazing Blitzo fly through blazing lights illuminating the vast drapery of his father’s big top.

Why then, was he now filled with dread as he prepared to execute an acrobatic routine that he could have performed in his sleep? Blitz took a shaky breath and offered a coy smirk to the crowd below, though from this height he could only see vague circles indicating the hundreds of heads gazing up at him, rapt by the bold imp’s performance.

“Two minutes and thirteen seconds of music,” the boy reminded himself, “and it’s not like you’ve ever missed the hoop,” he added, muttering under his breath.

Blitz wiped his sweaty hands on his jumpsuit, covering his anxious habit with a flourish of his arms, and swung himself under and around the hoop, preparing to execute a complicated maneuver that required splitting his legs and letting go of the hoop, using his momentum to fling his body around before catching himself back on the cold metal ring. He exhaled as he released the hoop, timing his momentum with his breath, but as he reached to take hold of the metal once more, his breath caught in his throat. His vision danced. The sounds around him faded as though he had been submerged in deep water. Suddenly he couldn’t focus on the hoop. His music was gone. A flare of panic seared through his body, all at once hot and red and undefinable.

Then it was over.

His hands reached to grab the hoop, just as they had done hundreds of times before, but never before had he been so shaky, palms coated in a sheen of sweat. He grasped for the ring, but his left hand slipped, unable to find purchase on the unforgiving metal, and he was left suspended, dangling from one arm high in the air for all to see.

“Dammit, Blitzo,” he chided himself, the gravity of his predicament setting in. His body swung wildly until he was able to reach the hoop with his tail and swing himself back into the relative safety of the ring. From there, he just had to finish the routine. Once he was back on the floor, he could worry about his father’s outrage.

He spun himself, twisted, swung, and dove to catch onto his partner’s arms before swinging safely back to his platform at the top of the tent. From there, it was time for the girls below, dancing on horses in sequined leotards, to draw the audience’s attention back to the floor and away from Blitz, who now sat, chest heaving, against the pole at the top of the tent.

“You absolute idiot,” he thought to himself, “If Papa saw that, you'll have to find a new costume to wear to cover the lashes on your back.” His stomach dropped, dread coiling its frozen tendrils through his skin. It had been months since he’d messed up badly enough for his father to take off the belt, but Blitz knew from experience that messing up during a performance could mean sleeping on his stomach for a week.

Since his mother had died, the beatings had become more frequent, and Blitz had less and less control over the manifestations of his own anxiety. It was easy enough to keep himself out of his father’s scornful eye during the day, but mid-performance, with all eyes on him, Blitz couldn't hide the fact that his panic attacks were becoming frighteningly consistent. The last time he’d broken down in public, his father hadn’t let him back on stage for a week, until he’d sworn he could stop “freaking out,” and Blitz fully intended to keep his promise. Embarrassing his father was the last thing he wanted to do, if not out of hope for gaining his father’s approval, at least because his mother would want him to be strong.

This time, however, his freak out hadn’t just impacted his performance; it had nearly led to a fatal accident in the middle of a show.

The cold, hard reality of the very tangible fear of his father dissolved the remaining effects of the panic attack and Blitz scurried down to the circus floor and readjusted his costume, ready to make his final bow at the end of the show with the rest of the performers.

Safely back on the ground, he dazzled the crowd with a roguish grin and flick of his tail, making young imps blush at his posturing. Blitz’s mind wasn’t in it at all, though. The panic from the trapeze had wiped his energy, and he felt as though he was floating behind his own body, watching the world go on around him, watching his own body perform without him. As he followed his showmates backstage, he dug his fingernails into his palms so hard he felt blood begin to prickle from his skin. Good. It was much better to be firmly grounded in this reality than floating along in a haze of some unspoken worry.

“Boy!” The summons came from the corner; gruff, unwavering, and sent a pang of dread through Blitz’s exhausted body.

“Here. Now.”

Blitz obliged, rubbing his hands together to disguise the gore that he’d sliced into his own hands as he made his way over to his father.

“The fuck was that, huh?” Cash Buckzo growled under his breath. Blitz flared his nostrils, but fought to keep his nose from scrunching. The words were unmistakably laced with the reek of booze.

“According to the posters, we call it a circus,” he retorted, not sure exactly how much of his blunder had been seen by his father, not wanting to admit aloud how perilous his situation had been.

“Think you’re being clever, huh?” Cash growled under his breath, and Blitz tensed. “You certainly didn’t look so clever when you fucked up that aerial act tonight. Nearly dropped to the floor, you did. And with a fuckin sold out audience, too”

“I didn't -” Blitz began, but his father held up a fist. Blitz immediately quieted.

“I don’t know what kind of shit you’ve got goin’ on in that idiotic head of yours, but I swear to Lucifer if you don’t straighten up and get over your pathetic ass, Fizarolli is in for a hell of a raise.”

“I -” but the words were gone from his throat, gone with the breath and and the world around him again.

No no no. Not now. Blitz fought to keep his composure, but his father’s face was swimming through an inky whirlpool. His hearing was pulsing from distant and heavy to loud and sharp and biting. Somehow the stitching on his costume was digging into his skin and simultaneously pushing him out of his own head all at once.

“No boy of mine is going to embarrass me like that in front of my live audience.” A hand grabbed his forearm and suddenly he was pitched headlong into an empty stable. Had they been walking outside all this time?

He was falling, and just had time to fling out his arms before he collapsed into the rough concrete, skinning his knees and palms.

“What do you want from me?” He screamed, voice pitching in his throat as the coldness, hardness, and sharpness of the world refocused in his mind all at once.

“You’re embarrassing me.” His father replied, shortly. “If you’re going to act like a fucking addict to your own selfish woes, then you’ll sit in here alone until you can behave.”

Blitz registered the irony of the accusation, but the words stung nonetheless. His father was cruel, yes, but had always taken out his anger with a bout of violence. A few lashes, a blow to the leg, a smack on the cheek if he was really drunk. But then it was over.

Not this time.

“Something is up with you. Don’t think I haven’t noticed. I let the fits slide when your mother first passed, but it’s been months. This is ridiculous. If you’re going to keep having these… episodes,” he spat the word out like a wad of stale gum “then you’ll have to sit here and work out how to stop them. Man up, or get out.”

Blitz looked into his father’s face, searching the cold eyes for so much as a hint of empathy, compassion, parental worry, anything. Instead, he was met with a face of stony sobriety that would haunt his mind until the day he died.

“You’ll get over this bullshit, or you’ll go to the streets. Either way, I’m done looking after your pathetic ass. My employee you may be, but you certainly aren’t worth calling my son.”

The wooden door of the stable slammed into place, iron bars rattling in place, a mocking grin against the lamplight from the street outside. Blitz sat on the ground, unmoving, until the light flickered out and his legs had gone numb from the unforgiving concrete beneath him. Then he backed himself into the corner of the stall and held his breath, feeling silent sobs wrack his insides while hot tears slid down his face.

“I will do better.” he whispered to no one when the crying finally relented. Then he faded into a fitful sleep.

…

“Three months left,” Stolas whispered to himself as he crossed out another day on the calendar pinned to his wall. He wondered vaguely if any other boy had ever dreaded his 18th birthday with as much apprehension as himself. As he sat on the side of his bed, staring drearily at the makeshift countdown he’d created to his own wedding, Stolas felt his eyes begin to sting. He didn’t want to be a prince. He didn’t care about performing some kind of grotesque masquerade of royalty for the other Goetia. He wanted to read; to learn about the world around him. To experience life without the shroud of upholding some ephemeral ideal of wealth or class or prestige. He wanted to feel alive again like he hadn’t felt since the day he’d learned of his betrothal to some frightful, indistinct princess.

He wanted to feel alive like the circus imps.

Stolas still remembered his first visit to the circus, all those years ago. The way he had felt watching the actors dance, flip, twist, and contort like nothing he’d ever seen before. The raw energy of pure excitement had been intoxicating to the young prince, and he’d spent most of his teen years searching for something that could replicate the feeling of elation he’d felt with the swell of the music, the dazzle of the costumes, and the aura of the performers all those years ago.

He’d tried running away, but he was never quite able to feel confident on his own outside of the safety of the palace walls.

He’d tried to make friends, but nobody was interested in listening to him prattle on about his lessons, and he could never quite bring himself to care about anything the other kids around him were interested in. He wasn’t excited about girls, or planning camping trips, or bragging about how much he could knick from convenience store shelves.

Sighing, Stolas slid from the edge of his bed to the floor, crashing rather more abruptly to the ground than he had intended.

Somewhere on the other side of his bed, he heard a thump and the tinkle of breaking glass. Stolas stood to find whatever he had broken in his moment of melodrama. He stepped around the corner of the bed to find that a small crystal pendant had fallen to the floor from where it had been suspended on the wall. He bent down to pick it up, and realized with a pang of nostalgia that it was one of the decorations he’d gathered from around the castle on the day he’d spent playing pirate games with the imp boy from the circus.

“Blitzo,” he whispered, the name equally as foreign to his lips as it was familiar to his heart.

Stolas straightened up with a start. Blitzo had been his friend for an entire day, and he hadn’t been boring at all. The imp from the circus had been crude, to be sure, but they’d had fun together — a real, silly, honest, and authentic kind of fun that he hadn’t experienced since.

When his father discovered that Blitzo had convinced Stolas to help him steal from the castle, he’d had the imp thrown out and grounded Stolas for a month, but Stolas hadn’t minded. He already spent his days locked in the library whether he was allowed out of the castle or not. It was the fact that, for the first time in his life, he’d actually had fun with another kid that had been the most exciting part of his birthday. For a while, calling Blitzo his friend had been enough to keep him going, hoping that one day he’d be able to reunite with his childhood friend.

But as the lonely weeks turned into months and then years and his funny, brazen friend never returned for more mischief, Stolas resigned himself to the fact that he was never going to see the imp again.

Now he sat alone on the floor of his room, counting down the last days of freedom before his wedding to Princess Stella, grasping for memories with any trace of genuine joy or connection he could hold onto in the days to come. He allowed himself a moment to imagine his once-friend performing outrageously daring tricks in his father’s circus as crowds watched in awe, dazzled by the imp’s talent. He knew Blitzo would have grown up by then, just as he had, but could only picture him as the young boy he had been as they raced, giggling through the palace on that one lovely afternoon.

“Stolas!” came the shout of the butler from the hall, breaking him from his reverie. “Your father is waiting for you in the sitting room, and I believe you’d find it prudent to not keep him waiting.” Stolas listened for a brief moment more, waiting for the sound of footsteps to recede down the passage, away from his room, but he could only hear the thumping of his own heart inside his chest. He groaned, not caring to stifle the sounds of his annoyance. Then he pulled on a shirt, heading into the hallway to face whatever incessant, performative task his father had for him today.

When Stolas entered the sitting room, he found no one. He glanced over his shoulder at the butler, who just nodded and indicated that he should take a seat on the sofa facing a rather large mirror on the opposite wall. As he did so, the mirror shimmered and his father’s face appeared, wearing an expression that could only be described as utter apathy.

“Oh good,” came the voice from the mirror, all at once booming and eerily flat. “Glad you could make it, ah, son.”

“Stolas, Dad,” came the muttered correction from the sofa. Stolas did not meet his fathers gaze.

“Right, right. Stelis, of course.” The king glanced down at something not shown on the mirror’s surface. Notecards, maybe.

“Well, as you know, your engagement period is soon ending, and it’s my job to make sure that you are well prepared for your new responsibilities.”

Stolas continued to look down at his lap, determined not to make eye contact.

“ I just wanted to make sure you’d finished reading that book we gave you, and a reminder that you are obligated to produce at least one heir in this marriage. Stella assures us that she is excited as ever for your union.”

Stolas huffed, letting out a puff of air from his beak so strong that it ruffled the feathers on his leg.

“Hm. right. Well, I believe that is all I’m legally obligated to say. I will be in attendance at the wedding next week and —”

“Next week?” Stolas nearly choked out his surprise. “No, Dad. I don't turn eighteen for another three months.”

“Right, right, and we know that. But Stella is eighteen next week, and it’s really only the bride’s age that matters in things like this, so I will in fact see you at the wedding next week.”

There was a distinct Shhhtikk as the king tapped his notecards on the desk in front of him, and the mirror went blank once more. Stolas was left staring into his own reflection, realizing with a start that the face in the mirror looked far too young to be getting married. The round face before him belonged to a scared little boy. Stolas shook his head, ruffling the feathers around his face as he did so, which only accentuated his juvenile appearance.

He stood abruptly and ran from the mirror, racing through the entryway, past the courtyard, and through the gate at the end of the driveway.

Stolas ran down the street, ignoring the ache in his side until his legs were jello. He stumbled into the first business he found with an open door.

It was still early in the morning, but the cafe smelled like warm cinnamon toast and roasted espresso. Stolas drifted up to the counter, ignoring the stares from the cafe patrons around him.

“Good morning!” came the cheery albeit well-rehearsed greeting from the barista. “What can I get started for you?”

“I..I don’t like coffee.” Stolas admitted quietly. The girl behind the counter looked him up and down.

“No worries! I have just the thing.” She smiled. She turned away from him and started pouring, steaming, and mixing away behind the bar. Stolas just stared blankly out of the windows, looking through posters from local businesses taped to the windows to the street beyond.

“Here ya go!” The bright voice brought the prince back to the present.

“No coffee. I promise.” she pushed a cup into his hands and turned to help the next customer.

Stolas found a seat in a corner of the shop near the bathrooms and collapsed into the booth. One week. Why hadn’t anyone told him? Nobody had said anything to him about his marriage since the first time his father had brought it up on his tenth birthday all those years ago, and now, they had decided to change the entire timeline of his youth without so much as pretending to consider his feelings.

Not that anyone ever gave him a choice. His entire life had been prescribed for him, and he was just expected to go along with it. Constantly. Not to mention the fact that his own father couldn't even do him the decency of remembering his name.

Well, if he was going to be married in the next week, then the next six days were going to have to be entirely his own. Stolas took a tentative sip of the drink in his hands, and instantly felt warmth seep through his body, reinvigorating him.

“Hot chocolate!” He tittered to himself, and looked up to give the barista a grateful smile. As he finished sipping his drink, Stolas found himself absentmindedly looking over the posters taped to the window in front of him. One in particular stood out to him amongst the clutter. A poster with alternating red and grey stripes arranged at an angle, fanning out from the center of the ad like a sunburst. “The Greatest Circus in all of Hell!” the text proclaimed, displaying a location and series of showtimes in smaller text near the bottom of the ad. Stolas smiled and pulled down the poster, pocketing it before anyone noticed it was gone. One of the times was listed for that very evening.

#helluva boss #blitz #stolas #stolitz #fanfic #vivziepop #hellaverse #hurt/comfort #no smut i swear they are CHILDREN in this #mostly canon compliant #myfirstpostsopleasebekind #no beta we feel our feelings like fizzarolli

27 notes · View notes

loquaciousquark · 20 days ago

Text

[Fic] Keep Me From a Thief [1/1]

Rating: T Characters/Pairings: Astarion/Tav, Gale, Lae'zel Fandom: Baldur's Gate 3 Word Count: 6k Notes: The last of the prompt fills from Tumblr, combining a number of suggestions. From @compels, Tav getting stuck in Chult alone; from @athousandotherfaces, "love lies bleeding" for hopelessness; and from @cheesiestart-redux, "Queen of the Meadows" for uselessness. Summary: After foiling the djinni's plan to cheat them at the circus, Tav is whisked away to parts unknown. Astarion, as always, manages the worry with perfect grace and aplomb—right up until he starts bleeding. An exploration of the Warding Bond rings when worn by two people with completely unhealthy relationships to pain.

—

“You absolute wanker,” Tav said, incensed, and with a sudden sound like a joint popping, she disappeared in a puff of violet smoke.

For a moment Astarion could hardly understand what had happened. Mere seconds ago he’d been happily watching Tav lift every item not nailed down from the shelves, the tent, and the djinn’s own silken pockets. Now, with a snap of the djinn’s oversized purple fingers, Tav was simply gone. More than gone. Vanished as if she’d never existed, Lae’zel and Gale staring back at him across the empty space, violet smoke dissipating between them with a smell of rain. Automatically he reached for Tav with the worm, only to find a yawning void where her mind had been. The sounds of the circus floated over them: laughter, cheers, strains of music, all undisturbed by this feat of hocus-pocus from a sideshow djinn and his cursed, rigged wheel.

A djinn, Astarion realized, who was looking smug as a cat in the cream.

—

Links: FF.net, AO3

#quark writes #baldur's gate 3 #astarion #tav #tavstarion #and huge huge huge thanks to #jadesabre301 #for the extremely excellent beta #she had to do a lot for this one and i'm so grateful

22 notes · View notes

acehazbin1 · 2 months ago

Text

Newcomer 🌸

Summary: The GN reader is a new comer and Caine is showing them around but the reader gets overstimulated; Caine tries to figure out how to calm them down while the reader is frazzled.

………………….………………….………………….

“Welcome to the Amazing Digital Circus!” A strong voice says as teeth with a ringmaster suit fly in. “My name is Caine! I'm your ringmaster, and I'm here to show you, the most jaw-dropping, heart-stopping, mind-bending paraphernalia you've ever laid your eyes upon!” He went on his introduction as something slowly, well not slowly… fell from the sky. The voice was getting louder and louder but so was the theme song.

“Ragatha, Jax, and there's Kaufmo-” A person at full speed fell into the cardboard cut of Kaufmo, words popped up on the screen but the theme song suddenly stopped as the person who landed on the cardboard was a newbie. “Fuck my back” The person blinked their eyes a couple of times as their eyes readjusted to the bright colourful background.

“Now, now, now, my dear.” The giant teeth flew down beside, “We can't have any of that foul language around here.” The person jolted back, they were still on the ground scrunched up into a near ball. “What's wrong with them?” A lanky purple bunny asked with no concern in his voice. “They just landed here, give them a break, Jax.” The red-headed doll pushed past Jax and walked towards them.

“What is happening? Where am I?” The person, or were they even a person at this point asked frantically looking around at the weird people. The doll opened her mouth but was cut off by the ringmaster grabbing the person's hand and dragging them up. “You are at the Amazing Digital circus, a place to be enjoyed by all ages!”

The teeth pulled them close to his side as he pointed with his cane to the ‘people’ “That Jax, Ragatha, Zooble, Gangle, Pomni, inside that pillow tent that's Kinger, I’m Caine and this is bubble!” He pulled them away and looked at the others. The bunny called Jax walked up to Caine pushing the ribbon out of the way, making her comedy mask fall onto the floor. “So Caine, We are having a new adventure today for the newbie, or what?”

Caine tapped his cane against his teeth, as he thought for a second. “I'd like to give our new member a tour of the circus grounds!” He twirled his cane around and grabbed the person's wrist. “Off we go!” The person's face twisted uncomfortably as he grabbed them.

At light speed, Caine dragged the person out of the circus tent. “Here we have the TENT” Big bold letters appear making their eyes not focus right, as Caine continued. “This is where your living quarters are! as well as all sorts of other activities! These activities may include..” A dial-up tone blares as the sound makes their ears feel like they're burning, they push their hands against their ears to try to make the sound quieter. Their eyes still couldn't focus with all the colours and their ears couldn't focus with the music in the background plus the dial-up tones blaring in their ear.

“Ball pits, mini golf, and more!” Caine kept moving close to their face and away making their body tense, Caine grabbed their arm once again and dragged them forward making them feel like their insides were about to come up. “Here we have the GROUNDS” the yellow writing appeared again. “Drown yourself in the digital lake or-” “Stop.” They cut him off as they sank to their knees putting their hands on their ears once again, “Please stop.” Caine looked confused as they slowly lowered them, “Are you alright, human?”

“Im- I-” Tears swelled in their eyes. “Eh- take your time” Caine awkwardly tapped their back waiting for them to say something. “I just don't know who I am, no matter how hard I think I can't remember my name or life before this-” Caine jumped to the front of them. “Dont worry my dear everyone feels this way as they enter the amazing digital circus!” They looked down again. “It's not just that…” Caine looked confused again using his cane to scratch his head. “Then what is it? Do you need a new name?” He clicked and a name generator appeared in the air. He spun it, and it landed on “Y/N, what do you think of it?”

“Caine it-” “You alright it is horrible, terrible even let SPIN again!” He twirled around as he was just about to spin again when Y/N stopped him. “Caine, no it's not my name it's… everything my eyes can't focus, my head is spinning and my ears feel like they are bleeding.” Caine appeared by their side and looked into their ear. “Well Y/N your ear is not bleeding-” “No it feels like it, it- just-” Y/N started to get frustrated with Caine not hearing her. “It feels like it, just please, lower your voice.” Caine's face went oh, “Oh, I mean oh, alright y/n, do you need anything else to make you feel better.”

“Could you bring me to my room, so I can lie down for a bit.” Caine nodded as he slowly took y/n hand and again quickly brought them down. “Caine, could you go slower?” He stopped at their voice. “Oh yes, sorry about that.” he brought them down slower and landed in their room. “This should be your room, call me if you need anything.” He floated off, “Caine.”

“Yes?” Caine looked back, “Could you give me a hug?” Y/n looked hopefully as Caine floated down next to them. “Im legally able to do that,” Y/n and Caine hugged awkwardly but it was nice nonetheless. Y/n rests their head on his shoulder making her eyes focus on the door on the other side of hers. “Thank you,”

“No problem my dear.” y/n walked into their room closing the door behind them. Caine watched them and used his cane to lower the music in the background. “Rest well.”

#tadc caine #caine #the amazing digital circus caine #the amazing digital circus #tadc jax #jax #the amazing digital circus jax #the amazing digital circus x reader #tadc pomni #the amazing digital circus pomni #pomni #tadc zooble #tadc kinger #tadc #tadc ragatha

25 notes · View notes

defectivefanboy · 2 years ago

Note

Hello, hello my dear!

I really would like to request something, since you asked for it and hell yes the last episode was a banger. I love your Crimson HCs and I think you captured him really well. But I would like to read some nice HCs about the loveliest Prince of Hell, Stolas himself maybe got a little love interest in a Singer Succubus he met at Ozzies? Maybe she got something alluring to caught his eyes. (I don't mind if there are some nsfw parts)

Best regards

Ciel ♡

yall got me fucked up for saying this again, but still making me want to write the story (especially this request, it's like holding a carrot in front of the horse rn) but I will say my piece. I hope it was just a slip of the mind BUT I DO NOT WRITE FEMALE READER fuck I care if you read my writing, but the more it happens the more I'm pushed to write a cock onto the reader. I did ask for request so im not gonna complain anymore.

I would like to read some nice HCs about the loveliest Prince of Hell, Stolas himself maybe got a little love interest in a Singer Succubus he met at Ozzies? Maybe [REDACTED] got something alluring to caught his eyes. (I don't mind if there are some nsfw parts)

Overall Notes: Stories written on this blog are GN until specified. While this story uses they/them pronouns, and I don't mind female readers on my blog, I do not write for y'all, and if you are a fetishizer fuck off????????????????? ew.

C/W: SFW - NSFW(suggested/mentioned), Lots of song quotes, Suggestive behavior, mentions of alcohol/smoking, platonic flirting from Ozzie/Fizz, reader serves cunt /positive, low-key himbo reader, special guests Ozzie's other faces, I love them,

Notes: All music used and referenced too will be noted at the bottom. I realize I take so long on writing its like bad. I can either do it for hours on end or I have to split it up. Never in-between. Also tell me why I found myself at 1 in the morning listening to bird sounds to try and be accurate.

Sip the Gossip...

Giggles

Hoot hoot boy

my dear beloved

My dear Icarus

Anyways...

Ahem...

He never saw himself coming back to the lust ring after the first time.

Truth be told he hoped it was the last time as well.

But alas he found himself wondering around the ring once more

Stolas wasn't looking for anything when he came to the Lust Ring

Well,,. he was looking for something, more so someone

And that was a meeting with Prince Asmodeus himself

Truth be told, it's not too hard to find the bright and extravagant circus tent like building.

Flashing lights drawing a demon in like a moth to a flame.

Matched with the loud music that reverberated across the ring

Yet, it was a hassle to find the damned three faced demon prince, an even bigger challenge to get a moment with him alone.

And the moment he finally got to talk to him. Just as he was about to ask him to take this somewhere private. Just as he was about to get the words out. Just as he was about to ask for a crysta-

A voice rang out behind him, taking Asmodeus's attention away from a now annoyed owl.

Stolas turned around with a huff, his tail feathers ruffling in irritation, as his entire body puffed up in anger and mock intimidation.

Only to be stopped in his tracks once again as soon as he peered down below.

The soft flick of a heart shaped tail and pointed blacks horns with soft cracks of red running through them entered his view.

A mischievous succubus made their way past him and stood in front of Asmodeus.

The cheeky smile on their face caught Stolas by the tongue as they interacted with the prince of lust.

"Quite popular tonight huh, Oz? It's not too often you work the floor." A snicker came from the succubus as they passed by the goetia without a second glance. Stolas watched as they did a little handshake with the other, before Asmodeus softly placed a hand on their back. "My, my, you're here early~ Looking for some private time with your favorite prince~?" Asmodeus said, his two other faces cooing at the succubus.

A soft blush rose to Stolas's face at the lewd comment as he looked between the two. "You need to pay the dancers before you touch them, big guy." They said with emphasis on their words as they gently pushed his hand off them before turning and looking up to Stolas with a mischievous smile.

"Right, Feathers?"

They left right after their jest

And Stolas was left lapping at his tongue

Asmodeus continued on with their conversation as if nothing happened

Like he didn't just forget what he came here for.

But god. did he know what was gonna make him keep coming back.

And it certainly didn't go unnoticed by Ozzie, who swiftly invited him to tonights show.

Gotta be a good host at the end of the night right?

Residing in a balcony seat, Stolas was left on his own while Asmodeus went backstage to settle some issues.

Stolas fiddled with his phone as he watched the countless tables of couples from up above.

Maybe it was stupid to accept the offer to stay. Maybe he should just go home-

"Bartender~ I really did it the time! Need a couple shots for a good time!"

Oh. He remembers why he's here now.

Soft curious hoots came form him as he peered over the railing watching you talk to guest and other dancers.

You wore a simple black outfit as you leaned against the bar.

He had to stop himself from taking a photo of you covering your face when you laughed at a patron's comment.

The playful smile on your face as you took the drinks brought a small one to his face as well.

It soon took a full on blush when you peered up at him, raising your glass in a cheers to him.

Poor thing didn't know what to do with himself as his brain became a literal bird brain.

Shooting back in his seat he raised a hand raised to cover his face as he broke out into a soft fit of giggles and coo's

you gave a soft smile before walking back behind stage, waving bye to others as you passed by.

Maybe he really did have a thing for red~

Sitting up in his seat he fixed his clothing and feathers as the lights dimmed

"Hello perverts, pervettes, and the freaks who like everything in between~ I hope you are all ready for the show tonight! We have something very special for everyone, me included~"

Stolas remembered him from the last time he was here

The clown's vibrant color scheme and loud persona was hard to forget

As he pranced around the stage announcing tonights agenda, a figure emerged from the curtain behind him

Gaining a bit of courage back he straightened his back and cleared his throat

"Asmodeus, I wanted to ask about that succubus from before if that was alright?"

"I hope it's not to make a formal complaint now. I was just starting to like ya' feathers." A playful voice rang out form behind him

His eyes widened as he softly gulped and turned around in his chair

Stolas was met with a familiar smile that held the same playful tone as their comment.

Instead of the black outfit you had on earlier it looked as if you were there to hang out with him

A pair of comfy pants and oversized hoodie to match, he had to restrain himself from squeezing your face in his hands

With a soft ruffle of his feathers he softly leaned into you with an awkward smile

Making himself smaller, he peered down at the figure before him as he stuttered over his words

"Satans No! No nothing like that. I- uh, I, wanted to ask if you were a worker here?"

"Ooh! You wanted to buy a dance? Well~ you'll have to wait until after the show, but I'll find you after, yeah?"

With the flash of a smile they left as quick as they came and Stolas is left with one thought...

"Oh, I have got to fuck them"

Not too long after they left, the curtains behind him pushed over once again. This time revealing Asmodeus, who had a cheeky grin on his face as he pulled his seat out.

"I hope I didnt keep you waiting too long, now. I had to deal with a few things out back stage." He said as he made himself comfortable next to Stolas. Quick to shake his head Stolas sat up in his chair, dusting himself off a bit as the lights faded to black around them. Spotlights circled around the stage as music slowly built up around them.

The lights slowed and focused on the middle of the curtains that hung at the back of the stage. The curtains flung open and revealed the succubus in a black and red outfit that didn't leave much for Imagination, not that Stolas was complaining. A chorus of la's came from their lips as the lights dimmed around them to a single spotlight.

"Oh baby, baby, have you seen Amy tonight? Is she in the bathroom, is she smoking up outside?" The slowly made their way down the stage, looking at the crowd as they sang the song and made small gestures with their hands.

They made their way to the end the stage, leaning down closer to the guest in the front row. "Oh, baby, baby, does she take a piece of lime for the drink that I'mma buy her? Do you know just what he likes?" Before they said their last line they gave a sly look up to the balcony with a quick wink for walking back down.

"Oh, tell me, have you seen her? 'Cause I'm so, oh I can't get her off of my brain." Each note was staccato at the end, they're danced following along with the words. "I just wanna go to the party she gon' go. Can somebody take me home? Ha, ha, he, he, ha, ha, ho" With a mischievous glint in their eyes they looked at Stolas once more with their words. Whether it be just in jest or in all seriousness, his feathers ruffled at the shiver that made its way down to each of his nerve endings, if demons have them.

"Love me, hate me, say what you want about me But all of the boys and all of the girls are begging to if you seek Amy" More lights faded in as dancers in cages lowered from the ceiling. More dancers filed through the sea of tables and patrons as the succubus sang the along with the chorus. Each one performing their own dance with another as guest threw money their way.

The extra dancers disappeared once the second verse began, a few male succubus remaining on stage. The ones that remained interacted and touched the succubus as they danced along the stage, pushing them out of their way. Which was a little very enjoyed by Stolas as small hoots of laughter escaped him. "They seem to be livelier tonight, I wonder why~" Asmodeus commented slyly to the another prince while not looking his way. Though his other faces gave him dead away as they stared Stolas dead on, giggling.

With a choked hoot Stolas looked at Asmodeus as he tried to catch his breath. "Oh! Is that so? Well they are quite the... performer?" Stolas said questioning himself at the end, all while Asmodeus laughed at his confusion. "They are, aren't they? Seems they've taken a liking to you. Someones lucky tonight or better yet, getting lucky~" Asmodeus cooed softly leaning towards stolas playfully nudging him with his elbow. Only to laugh when he turned his head and was greeted with stammering and very flustered owl.

Safe to say Ozzie just found the story of the night for Fizzy when he finds him. Such gossip queens.

The song only continued on for a few more moments before the lights fully turned off and the crowd applauded as the dancers exited the stage.

Giving just enough time for Stolas to regain his composure

Or well at least a bit of it

Because the remaining minutes Asmodeus was there

He made it a mission to tease the prince before he had to return to his duties behind stage.

But thank satans Ozzie was called back stage quickly

Stolas didn't think he could take anymore of it

His feathers puffed up and face beat red he was pulled out o this thoughts by a knock

"Hope I didn't make you wait long. Wanted to wash up a bit before I came~."

Stolas let out a high pitched chirp his face flushed once again as he lapped his tongue for words

With a soft laugh you waved him off with your hand as you tried to form words through your giggles.

"I'm kidding! Ozzie said it's fun teasing you, but I think he's probably done enough already."

Before he could say anything you gestured for him to follow you

With a prominent blush on his face Stolas straightened his clothes and quickly got into step with you.

Walking down the hall Stolas thought of what to say as he followed behind you

'Would casual conversation be good? Or maybe a talk over a drink?'

Poor boy was a bit nervous

And it didn't help with each moment you got stopped by a worker or a fan.

Though most were quick small talk, some fans had gained enough courage to ask for a date.

Better yet, they would hop to the point and ask of your number.

Each time they got the same response, each given the same number.

"XXX - 867 - 5309"

With a smile and a wink, you waved them off each time.

'Maybe this was a bad idea' He thought to himself as he watched each demon walk away feeling giddier then the last

With only a few more twist and turns he found himself back stage passing by the other performers dressing rooms.

He took one glance away from you and the moment he turned back you were gone

Stolas only found you when you grabbed his hand and pulled him into a dressing room.

The room seemed still as the bass of the music became dulled behind the walls.

Clothing racks and dressers were scattered around the room as a vanity sat on one end of the room while a couch, a few chairs, and a table sat on the other end.

Knickknacks where randomly placed along the room, making it feel a bit less like the work place and a bit more cozy.

"Sooo, uhm- Was that really your number?" Even Stolas winced at himself for asking.

But it was quickly wiped away with a light laugh from you

you quickly made your way to radio and shuffled through the songs and pressed play

When the music started playing you made your way over to Stolas and quickly grabbed his hands. Pulling him into the middle of the room you danced with him to the music as you started singing along.

"Jenny Jenny who can I turn to? You give me something I can hold on to. I know you'll think I'm like the others before. Who saw your name and number on the wall" Letting go of his hand you twirled around before pointing at him and pretending to sing into a microphone.

"Jenny I've got your number. I need to make you mine. Jenny don't change your number. 867 - 5 3 0 9" As you continued to sing and dance around the room it finally clicked for him. It's a song. You've been quoting a song. A smile broke out on his face when he finally realized.

"You've been giving them a fake number! Won't they notice? They might even know the song-" His rambling was cut off by a hand waving in his face. With a gentle pull of his hand you lead him to the couch in the room. "Are you a cop? Or do you always ask these many questions, feathers?"

"What! Heaven's no I would never-" He was cut off once again, but this time, by a hand cupping his face and leaning closer to him. Enough to ghost your mouth against his as you spoke.

"Good, because I might not be able to justify my next actions~"

Then he never came back after that (im fucking wit yall)

While he doesn't make it to every show and performance.

He CAN be found in your dressing room right after each one.

Well you can honestly find him there most nights your on or in the building.

It' what a good boyfriend does <3

Yes, he was the one to ask what you two 'were' relationship wise

Bby didn't want another game of cat and mouse :(

But that was quickly cleared up with your answer

"Wait, are we not? dating? right now? Would you? like too? date?"

Be glad you're cute. He was ready to make a new ring in hell.

He was very possessive at the start of the relationship.

"Fizzie baby, when did we start ordering stone statues?"

They make wonderful coat and drying racks for the dancers though, so Ozzie doesn't have much to say about it.

"Just don't do it to any high bidders okay~"

stolas did apologize though, hes too much of a good boy not too

But there's always one thing he's glad about.

Stolas's day is filled with tedious and idiotic duties and task he has to complete.

But as soon as night begins to set in Hell, a new energy fills him as he runs around his room getting ready.

The one thing he is glad about is that he can always find you in the same place every night.

Be it the fact you're a dancer within the prestigious club, it was basically your job in a sense, you were always able to catch his eye off first glance.

Never more then a few glances away, soon only a few steps as he was the one now to pull you back stage.

What? Asmodeus said he was allowed too, as long as he put money in his pockets.

Make his pockets hurt, and make them hurt good - Ozzie, 2023

Your biggest supporter ever. It started off with simple five, tens, and twenties. Then it escalated to fifties and one hundreds. Soon he was throwing hand fulls of diamonds on the stage.

Which he was promptly yelled at for by Ozzie.

But after each set he's right back stage giving you hugs and kisses.

Not that your complaining much

Having your demon prince waiting for you, watching over you, and only you was an amazing gift after each performance.

He also helps ward off creeps from interacting with you often.

Were you a bit surprised when you saw his true form? Yes. Did you also fuck him in it after? Also yes, a few times. Never knew how much tension that form has. No worries his pretty little succubus is there to help him through it all~

But to be honest, I think he's always more soft than horny.

He's always bundled up in your dressing room, all cozied up on the couch as he has a movie or show paused.

Such a cuddle bug he is <3

And for the fact he comes here so often. bro might as well just work there

That the balcony seat he first sat in with Asmodeus was now a personal booth for him whenever he came

Nothing but the best for his beloved~

Only the best for his canary <3

･::｡･: ･ﾟ･: :｡･: ･:: ･ :･ﾟ･::｡ ::･ﾟ･:: ｡･ :｡:･ﾟ : ･ :｡･ﾟ･::｡･: :･ﾟ･

Songs used in the story ╮

Bartender song (Sittin' at a Bar) - You favorite martian covee | If U seek Amy - Brittany Spears | 867 - 5309 (Jenny's number) - Tommy Tutone

#foolish writing #request open #helluva boss #helluva boss stolas #stolas #stolas goetia #helluva boss x reader #stolas x reader #stolas x male reader #stolas x gn reader #helluva boss stolas x reader #request

229 notes · View notes