Break a Horn / Fantoccio X Reader

11 / The Past Returns

*** TRIGGER WARNING : TACTILE SENSORY OVERLOAD, ASSAULT ***

It was only a few nights later when you decided to drop the question that lingered constantly in the air to Fantoccio.

While putting away props after a practice session, you asked him, "when do you think I can leave?"

He froze, holding a fake bouquet of roses, then whipped around, dropping all of the flowers, "what?!"

He floated over to you, narrowing his eyes, "leave?! Shakespeare, no, you silly puppet! Never!" He laughed as if it was a known fact, not a question that even needed to be asked. A dumb question, maybe even.

"Never?!" You repeated, "I have an actual life!" Not a very happy one, but fulfillment nonetheless. "Not anymore," he growled, "you're staying here. We have a show to put on!"

You frowned, mouth agape in despair. You were exhausted, homesick, and emotionally drained. You wanted to scream, cry, or laugh all at the same time.

Your miserable expression must've been picked up on by the puppet master, as he nearly looked sympathetic, but he quickly chided you further, "you aren't even within an ace of being an actor as grand as me! You need practice!"

You so badly wanted to shout at him that you didn't care about the stupid play anymore, but you held your tongue in fear of angering him more. You've seen what he could do with his magic, you didn't want to find out what other abilities he may have.

Defeated, you lowered your head to glare hotly at your shoes. This interaction probably went as terrible as possible. Not only did it certainly damage your growing friendship with Fantoccio, it awarded you with the most distressing answer.

Once Fantoccio knew you were giving up, his peeved scowl lifted into a winning smirk, "I thought you'd be wise enough to accept your fate. Now, chop chop—it's a tragedy up here."

The mood between you two was indefinitely sour and tense as you kept to yourselves and avoided eye contact with each other.

How do I revive this relationship?

You were sent off to bed that night with less food than usual. Your stomach growled and felt as if it were eating itself from the inside, you squeezed your frame tight. Deep beneath your skin, was still a present, warm pulsing where your healed ribs were.

You drifted away despite the pangs of hunger attacking your body.

/// *** FINAL WARNING : TACTILE SENSORY OVERLOAD, ASSAULT *** ///

You awoke in an unfamiliar place. The surrounding area was dark, somewhat resembling a city layout, yet masked by a black, heavy mist. You carefully trudged onwards, mindful to avoid the loose pieces of stone brick that would surely have you fall if they broke.

An uncomfortable feeling enveloped you as you were yanked around like a ragdoll by the horn. You dug your feet into the pavement to try and keep your ground, but the pulling continued.

From the eternal darkness, you heard the booming laughter of enjoyment, somebody getting their kick off of watching you struggle.

You scratched at your horn, trying to reach the hand that was squeezed around it like a python, but the hand was impossible to grab, it was like it wasn't there.

More hands dived towards you. When one hand let go, another would take its place, groping and stroking at your horn, leaving you feeling disturbed and overstimulated. Your mind was in overdrive, trying to process where you were, who was grabbing you, at the same time as being yanked by one of your most sensitive places.

Wave after wave after wave of stimulation assaulted through your entire body, leaving nothing unattended. It surged through your arms, hands, then ended at your fingertips. You wanted to tear away at your skin, the feelings were too unbearable and unwanted.

Jumbled sentences spilled out of the darkness where the hands came from, but you couldn't make out what they were saying, you were too busy struggling against the never-ending touching.

Finally, you were picked up by the horn. Your body dangled below like a dirty, used sock. You were flung away, unwanted and of no entertainment for the crowd, your back slammed into the flimsy pavement and the bricks gave away, letting you plummet into an endless pit of nothingness.

///

This time, you jolted awake from the feeling of falling. You looked around, hyperventilating, you were in the dressing room still. You crawled desperately to the door, clawing at the doorknob as you struggled to control your breathing.

You felt like you were being strangled, attempting to suck in as much oxygen as you can.

"Get it together, Y/N! You look like a mess! Be normal! Look okay!" The little voice in your head urged. You squirmed in your place, exerting any excess energy in your body, and you were finally able to take a single, deep breath that was followed by a series of more controlled breaths.

When you could breathe normally, you squeezed your hands tight to minimize the trembling. You reassured yourself that you were fine, your experience was normal, right? Celebrities always had these types of stories.

You looked off to the side, feeling even more drained than you were before you fell asleep. Right now, you needed someone. And the only someone you had available to you currently, was Fantoccio.