Break a Horn / Fantoccio X Reader

1 / Show Biz

"Gah! There's a huge scratch right there! Are... are my horns different lengths?! ARGH! Where is my stupid scuff remover?!"

You hastily rummaged through each drawer of your vanity. In your rush, you knocked down your bottle of horn polish with one of your horns, ironically enough.

You groan and watch helplessly as the expensive substance slowly poured out onto the dark wood floor, "that was expensive too."

You stared at your reflection in the mirror. You were obsessed with keeping your horns in the upmost best shape, it was the staple of your pride, after all. They sat upon your head like a gorgeous, pearl crown.

They resembled the horns of the greater kudu, despite you being completely human otherwise.

You were a famous comedian. You often showed up as a guest on another show, where the host asks a question and the three contestants had to choose the funniest answer, which would be voted on by the audience members.

Your fans adored you for your horns, you've received trophies and awards in tournaments, most of your accomplishments involved them.

Fans... your meet-and-greet was coming up in a few hours. Remembering that made your pulse quicken, you needed to get ready! You scooped up what was left of the horn polish on the floor and applied it onto your horns.

As you were powdering your face, there came a knocking at the dressing room door.

"Ms. L/N?" Called your manager, a poodle lady, "your driver is here, be out in five minutes, yeah?"

You nodded, carefully opening one eye to glance at her without getting face powder in them, "uh-huh."

///

"Y/N? Y/N," called your driver. You jumped slightly, being taken out of your thoughts, "hm? Yes?"

They glanced at you from the rear view mirror, "you alright? You've been fidgeting a lot back there."

You waved them off, "oh, no, no, no, I'm fine. I've never been really good at these meet-and-greet events." They hummed, "I see why. Your fans treat you like a zoo animal."

You wanted to argue back, defending your fans, but deep down, you knew they were right. You sighed, "sadly," you acknowledged their remark.

"We're coming up to the building. Need a minute?" They asked, flipping on their hazards and pulling over against the curb.

You nodded, "no... I'll be fine."

They exited the luxury vehicle, walking over to your door and opening it for you. You gave a shallow bow of thanks and slid out the car. Instantly, your fans began shrieking as if it were a football game.

You smiled at the attention, only to be suddenly yanked to the right by something. You stared at the source, a fan had grabbed onto one of your horns and pulled you towards them.

They grinned brightly, ignoring their obvious rudeness, "I LOVE YOU, Y/N!"

You chuckled nervously and pulled yourself away, only for another person to start stroking your horn with awe plastered on her face, "it's soooo smooth!"

You backed away, breathing heavily out of growing rage. Suddenly, the crowd of fans ahead made your blood go cold, you weren't looking forward to being yanked around by the horns... as always.

A phone screen was shoved up to your face, and you flushed once you realized it was very (scarily) well-made art of you and another comedian you've hosted viciously making out. "Oh! I... love the art! Very skilled...!" You smiled shakily.