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avocad1s · 2 days

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Trial By Combat - 6

Requested By: No one. Original Work

CW: manipulation?

Summary: Arlecchino’s got a secret…

Note: You all asked and I will provide! Here’s part six <3 this chapter is a bit slow but I promise it’s leading up to something great!

Part One —> Part Five

Fontaine, for the most part, had finally begun to go back to normal. Although no trials have been held since the Creators trial, many shops have reopened their doors to the public once more. It’s as if Fontainians want to disregard the event entirely, treating it as a work of fiction like the Prophecy. However, this doesn’t stop The Steambird from posting every single update regarding the Creator, nor does it stop every copy from selling out.

Despite the lack of trials, it hasn’t prevented the Chief Justice from sending criminals to the Fortress of Meropide, and only hours from now, Paimon and Aether would be a part of the group sent there. The two were the only customers dining at Cafe Lutece this afternoon, the owner seemed almost eager to provide the gluttonous amount of food the duo had ordered.

“Oh Paimon is feeling a bunch of nerves right now and it’s just making her more hungry.” She whines while rubbing her stomach. “I’m just hoping that the food in the Fortress is actually tasty.”

Aether lets out a soft chuckle, “it’s a prison Paimon. I doubt that the food will be any good”

Paimon pouts crossing her arms. “Hopefully will be rightfully compensated for our due diligence. Oh! Maybe even something from the Creator themselves!”

The traveler gives her a look, “you shouldn’t think like that Paimon, not when they are currently missing right now.”

The travel guide immediately covers her lips, muttering out a small apology.

“Speaking of the Creator,” Paimon says, “do you really think Childe might know something? I mean, we’ve heard how he’s talked about them before.”

It was true, during their time in Liyue when they had met Childe, he had expressed how heavily he revered the Creator. Not just him, all of the harbingers they’ve met have mentioned the Creator in a positive light. Aether even recalls when the Wanderer told him that the only thing all of the harbingers could agree on was their ultimate respect for them.

“Based off our interactions with the Fatui before, they might have some respect for Their Grace. But we still have no idea why they want the Gnosis, maybe it’s connected to the Creator.”

Paimon nods in agreement. “You’re right. If the gnosis are what connect the Archons to Celestia, then maybe the Creator has something similar?”

“Hopefully if the Fatui got their hands on Their Grace, they haven’t left Fontaine yet. We should still be able to rescue them.” Aether adds.

“Paimon hopes so too! Oh I can only imagine the type of horrors they could be putting them through!”

“Are you talking about Their Grace?!”

A familiar girl with a pink bob holding a camera in her head pops out of a bush quickly approaching the table. It was Charlotte, and she had a large smile on her face.

“Do you two have any nuggets of information about Their Grace? Oh please share it with me, I’ll make it worth your while!”

Paimon and Aether share a look before looking back at the journalist.

“We don’t have any new information on The Creator.” Paimon explained, “we didn’t even know they had returned until Monsieur Neuvillette told us.”

Charlotte makes a look of surprise, “wait seriously? It was such big news! I’m sure everyone in Teyvat wrote the piece I had written.”

Charlotte places her camera on the table taking a seat across from them. “I’m just hoping for Their Grace to have a speedy recovery. I would love to interview them if they let me, it just seems like all of the big names in Fontaine never have the time for an interview. Monsieur Neuvillette and the Duke of Meropide have been on the top of my list for ages now!”

“Oh right, you’re a journalist Charlotte! ” Paimon exclaimed, “do you have an information about the Duke?”

Charlotte ponders for a moment, “not really, just the same regurgitated information I get from people who leave the Fortress. Why do you ask?”

“We actually are going to the Fortress later today.” Aether answers.

Charlotte’s eyes get as big as saucers as she’s jumping in her seat. “You two are going to the Fortress?! Will you two please get some information about the Duke for me?

Noticing the restrained looks on their face, Charlotte quickly adds, “I’ll pay for your meal! Yeah…! Let’s make it a deal, you get information on the Duke for me and this meal of yours is on me!”

Paimon grins, “it’s a deal!”

Charlotte shares Paimon’s enthusiasm as she pulls out a small bag of mora ready to pay for the meal. At that moment, the owner returns with multiple plates and bowls filled with various amounts of entrees and desserts wheeling it to the table.

“H—how much did you order…?”

———

Many journalist stood outside of the Palais Mermonia demanding answers from their Archon who had entered the building earlier that morning. Luckily, gardes stood outside preventing anyone from entering.

Inside of the chief justice’s office was him, the God of Justice, and the Champion Duelist whose hair was damp with sea water.

“I checked the surrounding area,” Clorinde says, “there is no traces of Their Grace anywhere. The only logical conclusion is that the Fatui must’ve done something with them.”

Neuvillette nods. “Thank you for looking Clorinde, your help is appreciated.”

Clorinde nods, “it’s no trouble. We all want Their Grace to be found safe and sound.”

Furina had a worried look on her face as she paces back and forth in the office. “W—what are we supposed to do now? We looked all over Fontaine and they aren’t anywhere.”

“Lady Furina.”

Furina stops pacing, turning her gaze over to Neuvillette who looked calm considering the situation. “I think it’s time to meet with the Kanve, wouldn’t you agree?”

“T—that Knave?” Furina stammers, “ha, why would we meet with her? Don’t we have more important things to worry about?”

Neuvillette clears his throat, “until we find Their Grace, we must operate like normal. If the others find out that we lost Their Grace—“

Furina lets out a breath putting on a confident stance, “yes! Right of course!” She interrupts, “I was thinking the same thing… I will prepare for the two of us to discuss relations with her as soon as possible.”

“Who said that I would be joining you?”

Focalors lets out a short gasp as she quickly approaches his desk, her gloved hands balling into fists. “Y—you expect me to attend the meeting alone! No! You must go with me!”

Neuvillette closes his eyes as he shake her head, “I must focus all my attention on the Creator, we must locate them before the rest of Fontaine and Teyvat begin asking questions. As the Archon, this is something you should be able to handle. Correct?”

Furina tenses slightly but lets out a sigh. “But… wouldn’t attending the meeting be the best thing for Their Grace?”

Neuvillette furrows his brows, “What do you mean?”

Furina’s confident flair was back just as quickly as it dissipated, “Attending the meeting will give us the chance to indirectly interrogate the harbingers before she even knows that we suspect her.”

Noticing the look on the chief justice’s face, Furina lets out a boastful laugh. “Naturally I, the God of Justice, would be the first one to think of this! Worry not Neuvillette, I believe that after this meeting, the truth shall be revealed!”

Clorinde mutters how she needed a towel and Neuvillette lets out a sigh.

“Very well... I will participate in the meeting.”

In between Fontaine’s Lumidouce Harbor and Chenyu Vale, a large ship was anchored the familiar insignia imprinted in the sail. There was a plethora of Fatui agents stationed on the ship that it was overwhelming, it would be impossible to infiltrate the ship without being spotted.

Many of the agents weren’t even aware why there was such an urgency to return to the homeland. Curious glances and whispers spread throughout the ship like wildfire, wondering what could the Knave possibly be doing in the lower deck that no one else was allowed to enter unless they brought news from Fontaine. All of them knew better than to question their harbinger, but she hadn’t been seen since the night before.

“Your Grace.”

Arlecchino’s soft voice cuts through your thoughts. Fontaine was in danger and you were the only one who could help, at least that’s what she believed. It was only a matter of time before the nation was completely wiped off the map, Lady Furina has done nothing but bury her head in the sand.

You glance at her face, despite her sharp features she still had a soft yet powerful air around her. Maybe that’s why the children from the House of the Hearth trust her so much.

“Are you hungry? I have chefs on board, they can prepare anything you desire.” Her hand rested on top of yours, her long nails rubbing against your knuckles in a comforting way.

You were famished. You knew she was capable of, but she was making you feel so welcomed. It felt as if you could trust her, tell her anything and she would understand.

You nod slowly and she smiles.

“I’ll be right back.”

She stands up from her spot next to you leaving the room. Her luscious black and white hair that was pulled into a low ponytail flowed behind her. Arlecchino returned quickly letting out a soft sigh.

“They are preparing a Snezhnayian specialty, the food is quite delicious. I hope it’s to your liking” She commented placing her hand right back on top of yours.

“We will be heading towards Snezhnaya at sunset.” She says. “Although leaving Fontaine wasn’t originally apart of my plan, but considering the circumstances, changes had to be made.”

You furrow your brows. “The circumstances?”

Arlecchino nods. “Your power…or rather, lack there of.”

“I have a colleague, I do not trust nor like him very much but I cannot deny his intelligence, I believe he may be able to figure out the answer… or even Her Majesty may know.”

So there was a colleague within the Fatui who had extreme intelligence that might be able to help you. Maybe he would even know why you were healing so quickly? Or does that tie into your “godly” abilities too?

“Is that why we are leaving so quickly? Because of my supposed amnesia?” You ask.

The Knave shakes her head, “not necessarily. It’s mainly for your safety, you don’t wish to stay in a nation that tried to kill you, right Your Grace?”

You were forced into a corner with that question. Wanting to stay in a nation that almost killed you was bad, but wanting to go to a nation that had the capability to kidnap you wasn’t any better. Yet you had to pick your poison, and in that moment you decided—

“Right.” You reply. “Leaving Fontaine is the smartest option.”

“I knew that you would see it my way,” she praises, “I only want what’s best for you and all of Teyvat.” She gives your hand a squeeze a small smile spreading on her red lips.

A small knock on the door interrupts the moment, Arlecchino looks at the door her gaze becoming icy. “You may enter.”

The door opens and a young lady whose face is obscured by a mask enters and she immediately kneels.

“Y—your Grace… Lady Harbinger.” Her voice was almost breathless, her gaze transfixed on you. “I have news from Fontaine.”

Arlecchino lets out a sigh crossing her legs. “News? What is it?”

“Focalors has agreed to have a political meeting with you. The chief justice Neuvillette will also be attending.”

The Knave doesn’t even try to hide the smirk that spreads on her face, “Very well then. Was there a time mentioned for this meeting?”

“In the next few hours Lady Harbinger. We’ve already got a boat ready to return back to Fontaine’s harbor.”

Arlecchino stands, her gaze becomes soft once more when she looks back at you. “Your Grace, I will return as soon as I can. If you have any needs anyone on the ship will be more than happy to serve you.”

She exchanges a few whispers with the agent before giving you one last smile leaving the bottom deck. The agent looks at you one last time before stuttering out.

“I—I’ll go get your meal immediately Your Grace!” She rushes out of the door leaving you alone once more.

The Fortress of Meropide was more grand than Aether had anticipated. Surrounded by Fontaine’s sea, there was no escape from this prison besides the path they embarked, which was at the rear of the Opera Epiclese.

After heaving their mugshots taken, Aether and Paimon are escorted onto a ship where they meet their tour guide, who is also just another prisoner within the Fortress. The entire tour he was standoffish and dry only giving the required amount of information. If the two asked for more information about credit coupons, secret rules, or about the Creator, he would say they’d have to pay for that.

The prisoner leads the two down the large hallway of the Fortress when multiple gardemeks came around the corner. The traveler immediately takes a stance ready for a fight when a voice eases his worries coming around the corner with the machinery.

“Welcome to the Fortress of Meropide,” the man greets. He had dark clothing and dark hair with a scar under his eye.

“Y—your Grace!” The tour guide quickly says, his standoffish nature immediately disappears. “Lovely weather we’re having!”

The man glances over at the tour guide, “Hm? Oh yes, I guess the weather is nice. If we could see it.”

The prisoner lets out an awkward laugh as the Duke looks back at Paimon and Aether. “I’m Wriothesley, but you can call me Your Grace.”

“You’re the Duke of Meropide?” Paimon asks in a shocked tone. Wriothesley nods.

“So, how was your tour?” He asks, “was everything up to standard?”

Aether glances as the tour guide for a moment before giving Wriothesley a firm nod. “Yep. No complaints here.”

“Wonderful.” Wriothesley smiles, “I think we should be able to reward you with more credit coupons then?”

“T—thank you Your Grace! Thank you!” The tour guide says. He then looks over at the traveler, “and thank you for such kind words! If you ever need anything! Anything at all! Please come find me!”

Once he rushes off, the Duke turns his attention back onto the newcomers.

“So, is it normal for you to greet all newbies in person like this?” Paimon asks.

Wriothesley lets out a soft laugh. “No it’s not. I just heard that you two were friends with Neuvillette so I figured I finish the tour myself.”

“Wait, how do you know that?” Aether questions.

“The Fortress might look like it’s cut off from the rest of the world but word still travels fast. Just like what happened to Their Eminence.”

Paimon glances at the traveler briefly. Wriothesley continues, “Many people in the Fortress were ready to leave just for a chance at seeing the Creator. But since they are still in the hospital recovering, I managed to keep them under control.”

“What else do you know about the Creator?” Aether asks.

“Nothing really.” He responds, “I haven’t had the time to leave the Fortress and go visit them myself. Unless you’re talking about the basic information, there’s books all around the Fortress that can tell you that.”

Wriothesley continues on with the tour, showing the where the so-called cafeteria was, the Pankration Ring, and where they would report to work everyday. He also mentions Sigewinne, the nurse who looks after anyone who gets hurt or sick.

Lastly, he shows them where they’ll be sleeping. As he explains the procedures for their room, Aether gazes falls onto someone walking nearby. An oddly familiar magician.

Lyney stops walking and looks back at him, but once Wriothesley notices, Lyney lets out a soft laugh doing a dramatic bow.

“Well hello there Your Grace! It’s lovely to see you out of your office!”

Wriothesley crosses his arms, “it’s good to see you too, but shouldn’t you be reporting to work?”

The magician gives him a cheeky smile as he stands back up, “of course! That’s where I was heading right now! But these two must be very important to get a personal tour from the Duke himself.”

Wriothesley says nothing in response but Lyney quickly excuses himself, his gaze falling onto Aether once more before walking out of sight.

“Come on,” Wriothesley says, “there’s one last stop I’d like to make.”

———

The three sit at one of the tables in the cafeteria, the chef bringing over three welfare meals. They remove the lids revealing the delectable meals inside causing Paimons mouth to water.

“Oh is this what the food is like in the Fortress?” She rubes her hands together, “Paimon could get used to this!”

“Actually, I managed to pull a few strings to get this meal, after today, you might not get another meal like this.”

The fairy didn’t seem to be paying attention as she keeps shoving more food into her mouth. The traveler rolls his eyes at his companion, looking back at the Duke.

“So you said there was books in the Fortress about the Creator?” Aether asks, his fork pushing around his meal mindlessly.

Wriothesley nods. “There are groups within the Fortress to make people feel more welcome or comfortable. There’s quite a few revolved around Their Eminence. Prayer groups, wanting a stronger relationship, or just normal worship in general, they’re actually pretty popular.”

Paimon swallows the food in her mouth, “How do you feel about them?”

Wriothesley ponders for a second, “I don’t know anyone who has a negative view on Their Eminence, including myself. I would be honored to go up to the surface soon and share a cup of tea with them.”

Aether didn’t say anything in response, but he had a feeling that Wriothesley knew more about the Creator than he let on. He did say word travels fast from the surface, is it possible he already knows the Creator is missing?

“Anyways,” Wriothesley says, “I have other things to attend to, enjoy your time in the Fortress and try not to cause any trouble.”

The Duke gives one last farewell, leaving the table without another word. Aether and Paimon continue eating their welfare meals preparing themselves to adjust to their new situation and figure what exactly Childe may know about the Creator.

———

“You were right.”

In a dark corner of the Fortress, the twins from the House of the Hearth spoke in quiet whispers.

“Paimon and the Traveler, I just saw them.” Lyney explained.

Lynette’s ear lay flat on her head, her tail swaying slightly. “Monsieur Neuvillette must’ve told them and they’re here to investigate.”

“We have to do what Father told us to do.“ Lyney adds, “although playing ignorant to figure what they know won’t hurt either.”

Lynette lets out a sigh. “…and what about Tartaglia?”

Lyney shrugs, “what about him? He’s not here. We have to focus on the Creator. Without Their Grace, the Fatui won’t be able to—“

“I know.” Lynette interrupts. “Let’s just focus on the traveler for now.

“I must say, the timing of this meeting seems almost convient…” Arlecchino narrows her gaze as she brings her teacup up to her lips.

“I’ll just cut straight to the chase. I’m here about my colleague, Childe and of course, Their Grace.”

The table inside of Neuvillette’s office was covered in sweets from Snezhnaya, something the Kanve brought to ease the tensions within the meeting. Yet, it doesn’t seem to be working.

“Childe was declared innocent by you, the Iudex, yet was still given a guilty verdict by the Oratrice…” Arlecchino explains, “and only days after that, you declare that Their Grace is an imposter and almost kill them.”

Furina shifts uncomfortably in her seat, “Y-yes… we are aware of our… transgressions. The Creator is being well looked after and is healing quite quickly.”

Arlecchino perks up, “Oh? They are? So is it possible for me to see them for myself?”

“That won’t be possible at the moment, I apologize.” Neuvillette quickly adds in.

Arlecchino brings a forkful of cake up to her mouth as she lets out a scoff. “An outright refusal? I must say, I am surprised…”

Neuvillette crosses his arms, “this meeting wasn’t called to talk about Their Grace, but rather Mr. Tartaglia, correct?”

“That is correct. Then am I able to enter the Fortress to check on the wellbeing of my colleague?”

“That also won’t be possible.”

Arlecchino sighs, “so I cannot see Their Grace and I cannot see Childe. What exactly will this meeting accomplish?”

“We already have a course of action for Their Grace.” Focalors adds, “but we cannot share it with you or any other nations for now. This meeting was just a… common courtesy”

“And as for Mr. Tartaglia I am investigating matter.” The chief justice adds.

“A common courtesy?” The Knave questions, “everyone in Teyvat is wondering just what exactly will Fontaine do after committing the biggest sin known to man… and all you can say is that it’s confidential? Not to mention the prophecy you refuse to address.”

Furina shoves another bite of cake into her mouth, scooting her chair closer to Neuvillette.

“As long as Their Grace is in our nation, they are under our jurisdiction.” Neuvillette explains.

Arlecchino clicks her tongue. “A disappointing outcome indeed… but I cannot say I am shocked.”

Arlecchino finished her tea, “the Fatui is willing to extend our help if you need it. You all seem to have a lot on your plate at the moment. Maybe it’s best to pass some of the responsibility onto someone else?”

“That won’t be necessary.” Neuvillette states.

The Knave stands from her seat, brushing her bangs out of the way, revealing her red X eyes. “I think it’s safe to say this meeting is concluded, I have to return back to Snezhnaya immediately.”

Furina raises a brow, “returing so soon? W—why such a rush to leave?”

It falls silent in the room for a few seconds.

“Her Majesty cares very dearly about the Creator, I am expected to report any and all news directly to her.” Arlecchino explains, her back facing the two.

“Snezhnaya as a whole cares deeply about Their Grace, and once they heal completely we will welcome them with open arms… not a trial.”

Focalors looks down at her lap as Arlecchino leaves the office returning to her ship anchored near the border of Fontaine and Liyue. A sinister smile spread on her lips while Neuvillette and Furina sit in the office in silence, a sour taste lingering in their mouth even with the baked goods in front of them.

Note: Good luck to all my Arlecchino wanters! I got her and her sig weapon so I give all my luck to you <3

Tagging: @bittersweetorpheus @esthelily @tempestlart @angelofdarkness2 @mmeatt @dxprived4-starboys @Itm-acct @honey-lemonz @ymechi @nervouseaglelover @livelaughlovekuni @vianitry @vvyeislazzy @kbar1013 @ichiraku-verse @chaoticfivesworld @mabvo @noahrandom @haunts-gh0st @pix-stuff @riiriin @emmbny @shiki-jin @ra404 @leekingsman @ash1 @mahi-does-some-art @bitchyfanfics-posts @emilymikado @sarah22447 @swagbucksjester @nex-crowley @iruiji @cloise @scalyalpaca @game-savvy @dreamlessnight @myluckymoon @luxie963 @spffldlbrnf @missnella-nova

I know it’s been a while so if you want to be removed let me know!!

#genshin cult au #sagau #genshin impact sagau #genshin sagau #sagau x reader #self aware genshin

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remediesremedy · 16 hours

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hazbin hotel characters with a partner with mental health problems

GENDER NEUTRAL READER

WARNINGS: depictions of harm to self, drugs, alcohol, depression, anxiety, burns, crying, self deprecation, sad stuff but there’s lots of comfort and love.

features: lucifer, alastor, vox

comments, reblogs and likes are greatly appreciated <3

LUCIFER

“and then she hugged me! Charlie actually hugged me, oh it felt so nice to see her smile and she was happy to see me. it was so awesome you should’ve been there to see it, and then there was this pesky radio dem-“ Lucifer paused mid sentence, the words that were about to spout from him abruptly stopped. the door he had just opened, inhabited a lump under the covers who hadn’t yet moved.

their shared bedroom had always had happy memories, but it seemed your mind had followed you home this time, and refused to let up on tormenting you behind the closed doors of your’s and lucifer’s residence.

“Love? has something happened?” The fallen angel whispered gently, moving forward to your side of the bed, peeling away the covers from your face to reveal dull eyes.

depression had followed you all throughout your time of being alive, and even with death it had stuck to you like glue, chains bound to you for eternity. As if being in hell wasn’t enough.

“Honey? can you look at me f’me please?” He rasped, a clawed hand cupping the full cheeks of your face, feeling the lack of warmth that rested beneath your skin. Lifeless eyes dragged themselves to gaze upon the king of hell, and they almost phased straight through him. “Oh sweetie.” his heart ached, he had been aware of everything about you when you were living, never bringing up how you died or what you suffered with. and he had no reason to, you hadn’t showed any signs of falling back into depression or struggling mentally, until now.

“I’m here, i’m here for you.” Lucifer mumbled as he scooted forward to place a tender kiss on your forehead, then the bridge of your nose, then both your cheeks. “can i come into bed with you?”

a small nod, devoid of any energy.

Lucifer scrambled under the covers, immediately going to scoop his lover into his arms, his strength made it easy to manhandle you as tenderly as he could into a position where your head laid softly on his broad chest. “y’know.” the devil hummed, opting to stroke his partner’s hair, “out of the billions of years of being alive. i have never, ever met someone like you.”

as if by reflex, you had scoffed, almost turning your head away from him.

a part of him panicked, his hand stilling and dipping down until it cupped your chin. “i’m serious.” he had mumbled, quieter than before, before regaining his confidence. “after i fell, i found it hard to love things around me anymore. a part of me was lost in that garden, i- the point is, i met you and my heart.” he breathed a little laugh.

“oh my dear, my heart, it has never been fuller.” he admitted honestly, his hand moving once again to caress your skin, his fingers touched you like you were porcelain. a doll, precious and fragile, but he’d have you no other way. “you are the most wonderful being i have ever met, nothing could compare to you.”

tears that had been welling up began to shed, to unashamedly trickle down his face. “nothing.”

the hands that were drawn into your body to almost cradle yourself moved swiftly, they snaked around whatever they could get their fingers on and squeezed thrice, a simple indication of ‘i love you.’

things would be alright after all.

-is very caring during episodes, finds himself almost sick with worry the more you get worse or if you don’t get better

-helps you with cleaning yourself, brings you meals if you haven’t eaten for a while, cradles you at night.

-will hide away with you until you’re ready to go out anywhere. will chaperone you everywhere if he can, stick to you like glue, always has to be touching you in some sort of way to let you know he’s there

-tries to stay awake with you when insomnia hits you, reads to you, will even sing.

-if you can’t take care of your hygiene, he takes his time washing your hair, hands massaging your scalp, humming as he drags the faucet over your head to get the shampoo and conditioner out. puts on face masks with you, showers with you, even if he has to haul you up (it’s not much effort to carry you). he lathers you up and caresses every part of you, you are his everything. will just smother you in his deodorant, you smelling like him always eases his little protective brain for some reason.

-celebrates every good day with you, a part of him breaks when good days get fewer and far between. he fears losing you, or that you’ll never get better. but he doesn’t know that being with him grounds you more than he could ever know.

ALASTOR

“hey alastor!” Charlie itched to talk to the demon, something in her eyes gave him the impression that it was urgent. Her pale hands waved at him a little too aggressively for his liking.

something was up.

he did not like that one bit.

“Charlie! what can i do for you?” His smile stretched impossibly larger, an arm sweeping to courteously gesture for the princess of hell to continue talking. he fought the urge to grit and ground his teeth, anxiety was never one of his favourite emotions to experience, for others it was.

“Alastor! Hi! Hi.” Charlie jogged to him, standing in front of the demon with a little nervousness in her step. she cleared her throat before sighing, “look i just, i noticed something off about your partner today. i don’t think they’re doing okay, and i was worried and i thought you should know so that you would have a heads up-“

“thank you Charlie.” Alastor’s words came out borderline grateful, softer than his normally charring static voice. “is that all?”

“yes! i- uh, i hope they’re okay!” She beamed, lingering for a second longer than alastor liked before getting the message to leave. As soon as Charlie’s back was turned, Alastor phased through the floor, becoming one with the shadows, after a moment of plunging into an abyss, he rose back up from the depth into his room. Nothing seemed awry, until he picked up on the sound of the shower running, the water spewed out rhythmically.

and then the radio demon noticed the noise behind the water hitting the shower floor.

crying.

The buck’s whole body froze at the foreign sound, the sobs that wracked through the air caused his smile to instantly drop. Worry clouded his senses and without feeling it, his form expanded, antlers growing larger and sharper and his eyes shone bright as he all but busted through the bathroom door, scouring the place for you. “Dear?” his voice cracked, frenzied state shrinking to his normal size as he found you curled into a ball while water hit your back.

his hands itched to scoop you up and take you to bed, but he didn’t want to make you more upset.

you had looked at him with wobbly lips and swollen eyes, “don’t look at me.” you whimpered, a fresh set of tears crashing down your red face, “i’m disgusting, i’m ugly, i’m fucking putrid to see.” you had humourlessly laughed, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth before another sob was pulled from the depths of your chest.

for a second time, Alastor felt himself froze, conflicted with you insulting yourself. insulting his perfect partner. disgusting? absolutely not. ugly? what a lie. putrid? how far from the truth could you be?

his claws reached to envelop your body, he almost hissed at the temperature of the water, boiling hot, enough to burn. you had been sitting there, getting sprayed by alarmingly warm water. “come now.” he started, an unusually soft tone coming from him, “you’ll get hurt if you stay under that water my love.”

“that’s the point.” you mumbled, “maybe if i’m damaged enough on the outside you’ll see how ugly i am on the inside too.”

“nonsense.” Alastor cut through your speech with an edge of anger, without another word, the demon’s hands wrapped around you, dragging your sore body from the wrath of the water. “we are going to bed, yes? and you will tell me why you think this so horribly about yourself my dear.”

“what? why aren’t you yelling at me? why aren’t you telling me i’m right?” your voice began to raise, and your face, already branded with a waterfall of tears, housed some more, fat globs of tears raced down your cheeks. “why won’t you hate me like i hate me?”

“i could never see anything apart from perfection in you my darling.” the deer murmured honestly, shimmying a towel up and down your body as quickly as possible, he wanted to cradle you as soon as he could. “you are more than i deserve. i would do anything for you.” he finished drying your body, swiftly changing you into dry and warm clothes. “and doing anything for you, entails loving you when you can’t find it in yourself to do the same. my love for you will never simmer, or dull, or lose its intensity. it will never falter, not even for a second.” something cold was applied to the raw and sore skin that was affected by the water, a paste for healing supposedly.

“the moment i laid eyes on you, i promised to protect you.” the radio demon whispered, finally able to hold you properly. he pulled the covers up before sliding both of you in, absentmindedly he undid his suit buttons, letting the fluff of his chest puff out from under his dress shirt. he laid your head on his fur, content to have you smothered by him. “so let me protect you, let me help you fight these cruel thoughts.”

“i’m sorry Alastor, i’ll try be better.” you had mumbled guiltily, nudging into his fur defeatedly.

“no no darling, no apologies, no being ‘better’. be as you are, and let me fight these thoughts with you.” his head dipped down, a smile coating his features as he softly nipped at your neck.

an airy, wet laugh left you, “okay Alastor, okay okay! no apologies.” you had agreed, hands tightening around him in thanks.

but you didn’t need to thank him.

Alastor would do anything for you.

literally.

-unused to caring for someone, unused to love and relationships as a whole. had never had any interest until he had seen you, it had opened a casket full of emotions he wasn’t prepared for.

-when it comes to your hygiene and taking care of you when you can’t, he’s very methodical, brushing your teeth for exactly two minutes, washing your body and hair stiffly. overtime he does try and show his affection through touch more, enjoys cradling you, kisses anywhere he can get his mouth on, mostly chaste kisses, not fully comfortable with long kisses of any sort.

-enjoys massaging your scalp with his claws, how you’ll finally be able to sleep while he caters to you by caressing and stroking your skin or hair. if you wander outside of your shared room, he tries to be around as much as possible, always a hand on the small of your back or a watchful eye on you.

-gets his shadow forms to take care of you and check on you when he’s in the studio or busy. cooks for you everyday, will spoon feed you, even in bed (he’ll change the sheets the day after).

-sneakily gets you to do affirmations with him, makes you stand in front of a mirror with him and says what a great couple you guys look like. tells you that he loves you in front of the mirror while holding or stroking a different part of you each time. will begrudgingly do skin care and make you do it with him, after a while you begin to enjoy it and start just doing each other’s skin care in the mirror.

-sees you nothing short as perfect, even when you can’t get up or cry for hours or don’t want to eat, even when you give up and refuse to try anymore. he finds a way to motivate you and want to try again.

VOX

(disclaimer: getting tired around this point so writing from here on in may deteriorate or lessen in quality)

meetings had been long lately, plans for vox security were kickstarting. he was so busy and it was exhausting, news commercial here, press conference there, meeting here, new tv show there. Vox was tired and he missed you.

between all his schedule and stalking the radio demon unhealthily, it seemed he had almost forgotten about you, even though you flooded his mind at every instance.

he just hadn’t done a very good job at showing how much he had missed you these past few weeks. it left you in a state of loneliness you weren’t quite used to, eyes always trailing to the cameras around the building and in your room, but familiar light of Vox watching the cameras wasn’t there. he hadn’t been checking on in, maybe he didn’t even want to look at you.

self worth was at an all time low, and your anxiety had sky rocketed out of its temporary dormancy, coming back in tenfold. insecurities were on display more than ever, and Vox was nowhere to be seen, falling asleep at his desk or at Val’s and or Velvette’s place.

it was hard not to feel so utterly unwanted.

so you did what every other sinner would do, drink, go crazy on the town and snort some things you shouldn’t have. and at the end of the night, feverish and cold, shaky and nauseous, as you looked into a camera that belonged to vox security, the light didn’t flash on.

he wasn’t there. would he ever be again?

all the substances in your system caught up to you, your stomach began to bubble with pain and you no longer had it within you to keep up the charade that you were fine. you willed yourself to cry, to do something other than rot on the floor of an alleyway street, but no tears came.

instead blood trickled from out of your nose, a telltale sign that you had outdone yourself with whatever atrocities of chemicals you had put in your body. you threw your head back, an expression between a grimace and a smile graced your face, maybe if you fucked yourself up enough Vox would finally come back to you.

needles lay on the ground, no longer sterile but it did not matter. with already shaky hands you grasped one of them, putting it at an angle to inject, you brought it down and the moment it pierced your skin, a familiar hand pulled it straight out of you with a frenzied cry.

“what the fuck were you doing?!” Vox huffed, anger and concern battling to show through his words. worry etched into his features, but you didn’t manage to spot that, only the anger.

“i-i.” no words could come out, the blood from your nose congealed and dripped down onto your shirt, and the injection site pooled with crimson blood too. how could you explain to your partner that you had planned to completely self destruct in hopes he would care for you again?

“are you a fucking idiot? oh my fucking god you’re bleeding.” his palms glided across the blood on your nose and thigh, wiping it away on his skin, his lower lip trembled as he swore at you thoughtlessly. “do you have any idea how dangerous this is?” he bit back the yell, a sigh falling from his lips as he watched your expression morph from embarrassed to complete self hatred.

“i’m sorry, im so sorry.” you whispered, wanting nothing more than to be out of the way, “im sorry that im not good enough, ill be better, i promise, don’t leave me, don’t leave me-“

Vox’s heart, what was left of it, had shattered entirely at your words. regret punched him in the stomach, weeks of little attention and this is what he says in your darkest hour? “shh, shh, of course not, no, no, i would NEVER, never leave you.” his thumbs alternated between rubbing away your forming tears and beading blood.

“c’mere baby.” his voice cracked, he offered you his embrace silently. the look you gave him was utterly heartbreaking, doubtful that he would still love you, god, as if he could ever stop loving you. wordlessly you sank into him, trying to greedily cozy up into him as much as you could, to remember every inch of him. “please, forgive me.”

the words wouldn’t formulate, too drugged up and drunk to even respond, you slumped in his arms, barely able to blink. Suddenly fingers were pinching your cheeks, “hey, hey, don’t fall asleep, i need to make sure you’ll be alright.” he spoke softly, a complete contrast to before. “i’m so sorry, i should be the one saying sorry baby. i’m so stupid, mistreating my whole world.”

the more worked up and upset he got, the more static seeped into his voice. “i’m so sorry. so sorry babe. i haven’t been around and that’s unfair on you, ill book a few days off work okay? just me and you, and i promise ill make it up to you.” his head bowed down, nuzzling against you affectionately, “just stay awake f’me, we’ll get what’s out of your system, and ill make it all up to you, i promise.”

hearing his voice, feeling his touch was pure euphoria for you, a safe haven you had missed beyond anything. “anything for you Vox.”

-is a complete sweetheart, just struggles at first if you’ve done something harmful or destructive to yourself. anything he says in the moment is not thought about and is him panicking.

-makes it up to you every time, bubble baths, washing you and taking care of you like you’re his god. keeps a first aid kit on standby, one is in your room, other first aid kits in other areas of the building too. makes sure from then on in to reassure you, to let you know of his schedule, to bring you with him as much as he can. sometimes comes back from a meeting and just naps with you until he has another thing to do.

-cannot keep his hands off you, super touchy in public now, in meetings you’re new seat is his lap. will try to lessen his schedule more, will spend a lot of his time sleeping with you when you sleep a lot, you two fall asleep spooning or just completely intertwined.

-makes meals for you when he can, hires a personal chef to keep you fed when he’s working. makes a habit of checking his cameras in your shared room a lot more, doesn’t spend as much time infatuated with stalking the radio demon anymore, he’s better at figuring out his priorities now.

-kisses your knuckles when he comes back from work, and then kisses you properly, an intimate lip locking that won’t end until you get the point that he very much wants you. tries to work more remotely, practices affirmations with you and tries to work on his reactions to stressful scenarios so he doesn’t make you feel worse.

-work is important, power is important, but you are above them both, cherishes like you are the only thing to ever exist when you’re both together.

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Barón Tovar Takes a Wife

First Movement (Adagio sostenuto)

5.5K / Bridgerton AU Regency!Pero Tovar x fem!reader, a childhood best friends to lovers story

Summary: About to make your society debut and enter London's marriage mart, you don't expect an old friend whom you haven't seen in over 10 years to make a surprise appearance at the first ball of the season.

Warnings: None! Fluff! B, C, D, E, F Bridgerton make appearances. It's me so there's a cute nickname (won't spoil). The masterlist includes a few words about how this reader insert is written - essentially, no reader description other than having hair and wearing dresses in the style of this era, reader has a backstory; much of this part is exposition (so maybe a little slow but we'll get there!😊)

A/N: My plan is to post the entire series before Season 3 of Bridgerton airs, because the story is intended to take place in the background of the same season and if things don't make sense after the show comes out then oh well 🤭 I'm also only 2/3 of the way through Julia Quinn's books, so please forgive me if some of my characterizations of the Bridgertons are not wholly correct 🙏🏻

Wonderful Bridgerton inspired dividers by @saradika-graphics 🥰

Series Masterlist

The Duchess of Hastings stands behind you, admiring the reflection in the mirror of the two of you together, “I dare say, if you had debuted with me during my season, there is a good chance that I may not have been the Diamond.”

“Oh, shush, your Grace,” you make a funny face at her in the mirror, to which she laughs and pokes you in the ribs, “Don’t you start with this ‘Your Grace’ business with me.”

That Daphne Bridgerton is your dearest and oldest friend in England is something you consider to be one of the great fortunes of your life, of which, as the daughter of a Count, you have many. Violet Bridgerton and your mother, the Countess, had been dear friends and as such, much of your early childhood in England had been spent at Bridgerton House, running around with not only the same aged Daphne, but her elder and younger siblings as well. The Bridgertons are one of the most beloved families of the ton, their good natured and spirited personalities recommending themselves to everyone, and accordingly, your memories of when your two families would gather remain some of the most joyous of your childhood.

Sadly, your dear mother passed away from illness when you were only seven years of age and your beloved father, who loved her more than life itself, could not bear to stay in England much without her. The Count was one of several nobles charged with governance of Her Majesty’s Royal Naval Fleet; a gentle man, his purview was primarily diplomatic (as opposed to militaristic) and he thus travelled widely, often and always for long periods of time.

Though he did not wish to remain where so many of his memories dwelled, the Count could not bear to leave his only child behind, and consequently, you had joined your father on his travels. He proudly raised a cheerful, spirited daughter who loved the seas and adventure as much as she did reading and music. Your father found that exposing you to and requiring you to immerse yourself in so many foreign cultures at a young age led you to be the most sympathetic and kind hearted child, one who others found easy to converse with and befriend on account of your good humoured nature and open minded heart. Unencumbered by the rigid etiquette requirements (and dress code!) of British high society, you happily embraced many freedoms that other young ladies of your age and breeding did not have the opportunity to enjoy. Your father taught you much about the ships and business of the naval fleet, subjects to which you took a great interest; to this day, you know your way around most ships better than some sailors. The Count was especially proud of your affinity for diplomacy, understanding the importance of fairness and tough negotiation both in foreign matters and managing fleets. You loved all of it – spending countless hours pouring over maps and letters of diplomatic matters with your father and absorbing all you could; as you got older, you took great pride in the way your father would sometimes seek your opinion and advice on business matters and delighting when he would praise you on your ideas.

While he was unorthodox, your father could not be accused of being neglectful; he would not forgo your formal and societal education, knowing that one day, you would have to return to live in England. Hiring only the most adventurous and brave governesses to accompany your travels, the Count ensured that your literary, numerical, musical and artistic accomplishments and pursuits could rival those of your peers back home. You learned to dance the dances of grand balls, though you had only the few foreign dignitary hosted events to practice. Your only other occasion to practice came when you would return for your infrequent visits to England, reuniting with your beloved Bridgertons to spend nearly all your time catching up and laughing with Daphne and her siblings, and take in what you could of British society before once again being swept away on another ship. Though brief, these reunions with your friends, coupled with your frequent letters were enough to ensure your friendships remained strong and cherished over the years.

Two years ago, Daphne had made her societal debut, meeting and marrying her love, the Duke, during the marriage season and you could not have been more delighted for your friend. That season should have also been your debut season, except that you and your father were in the Far East and would not have been able to complete the Count’s business and return in time. Since you had postponed one year, what was two? If you had your way, you would have made it three, not eager to give up the life of travel and leisure that you’ve grown accustomed to. However, when the Queen wrote to ask why the daughter of one of her esteemed Counts has not yet been presented, both you and your father had to regretfully concede that your life as a carefree sea farer was over.

And thus, you find yourself in your present circumstance: in a luxurious silk gown the colour of swan feathers, wearing what might actually be swan feathers in your hair, about to be presented to the Queen before embarking on your first social season. To be honest, you’re not terribly nervous, save for whatever nerves one always has whenever attempting something new, and you have good reasons not to be.

The first being that you are in the very capable hands of your great friend, the Duchess. The now Dowager Viscountess had promised your mother that when the time for your debut came, it would be the Bridgerton family’s honour to sponsor you. If anything, you felt that the honour was all yours – not only were you to have the support and backing of one of the most respected and revered families during your season, you would also be blessed with their company. As fortune would have it, due to the timing of your debut, Violet had prepared herself to take on the duty of presenting not one but two girls: yourself and her third eldest daughter, Francesca.

Fearing it was far too much work and pressure, you had assured Violet, whom you loved as a second mother, that she need not fret too much over you; you’re a woman of twenty-three with more world experience than most men twice your age, and encouraged her to focus her attentions on her own daughter. Violet had been aghast at the implication that she didn’t think of you as one of her daughters, and you were about to be on the receiving end of a scolding that only a mother could dispense when Daphne came to your rescue. As the Duchess of Hastings, she herself had the right to present young ladies at court, and she declared herself delighted to be your patroness this season. This was decidedly a win-win; not only could Violet concentrate on Francesca’s prospects, you could now look forward to spending the season with your dear friend by your side.

The second reason you’re not overly anxious is that despite being older than most of the girls debuting at the same time, you know you have plenty to recommend you to potential suitors. No, you are not terribly conceited nor do you hold your own attributes in such high esteem, but rather, very practically, you know most suitors will not let a small thing such as age deter them from the handsome fortune your father has bestowed upon you.

The Count was forever exasperated with the shortcomings of the laws of inheritance and how they prevented his one child from inheriting his estate, but he made up for it the best he could with the legal avenues available to him. First, he set aside a healthy dowry for you, so that you would be sure to attract a similarly healthy crop of high society gentlemen from which to choose a husband. Second, via his will, you would be provided for for the remainder of your life with a generous per annum allowance that rivaled the income of many estates; you were to want for nothing even if you never married.

And finally, known only to a select few, your father had a vast investment in an international fleet separate from the naval fleet of the queen; a beloved exploration and trade business venture that was the Count’s passion project - you and him spending many enjoyable hours pouring over the plans and movements of this fleet. The dividends from your father’s shares went directly into a trust of which you (and any future children of yours) are the sole beneficiary, though the capital had to be held by a man. It was the Count’s thinking that in addition to the income, it was only fair that you benefitted from a venture that you had invested much of your own heart and time into. Naturally, being a part of your father’s estate, this investment could be passed down to the next Count (a distant relative), but your father had other plans. If the intended recipient was willing, you father wanted to sell his shares to his future son-in-law, allowing for the dividends to continue flowing to you and so that you may remain close to the business via your husband’s involvement.

In other words, there are plenty of reasons that potential suitors who might otherwise be dismissive of your age and lack of societal presence, may find you attractive (the least of which were probably your charm and wit); you can afford to be choosy and you fully intend to be. And while you’re not quite so hopeful to wish for a great love like that of your parents, or even Daphne and her beloved Simon, you dearly wish for a husband that will understand and respect you; one who will celebrate you for your mind, experience, opinions and all the reasons why you’re different due to having grown up the way you did.

Daphne seems to have high hopes that there will be many potential suitors who will live up to your expectations. You’re less confident than she, but still more optimistic than not.

Flopping yourself down on the chaise next to Eloise, the two of you heave heavy sighs in unison. After the nerve-racking presentation to the queen earlier this week, the following days have been a non-stop flurry of ribbons, fittings, etiquette lessons and teas with the express purpose of study in the who’s who of the ton. In just a few hours, all of Violet and Daphne’s hard work and preparations will be put on display when your contingent attends the first event of the season: the Danbury Ball.

Eloise passes a box of candy to you and you select a treat gratefully. Though Daphne is your closest friend, you’ve sometimes found yourself having a fair amount in common with Eloise and know her to be a trustworthy confidant; this is one of those times. While you don’t think you have it in you to hate anything as much as Eloise despises the marriage mart, the both of you at least have the good fortune of being able to be picky with your suitors and moreover, wish to exercise that particular privilege. For Eloise, marriage is a cage. For you, it’s the not marriage itself, but a union with an imprudent match that you wish to avoid. If you can no longer be free to sail the seas and wander through the valleys and streets of the foreign lands that call your name, you must insist that the home you’re being called home to roost is at the very least, pleasant.

“I beg of you,” murmurs Eloise, “Please let all the fashionable young men fill up your dance card so that there shall be none left for me.”

You steal another piece of candy, “I’m afraid there’s more than enough young men to go around, El. Plus, you really ought to beseech Franny for your request, my dance card may struggle for applicants on account of me being such an old maid,” you giggle.

“None of that negativity now,” chimes in Daphne from the open door, “tonight is full of possibilities.”

During the season, you’re staying at Bridgerton House so to be close to all the finery of dresses, jewels, shoes, ladies’ maids and moral support that you may need. Your father is staying nearby in another house on Grosvenor Square, and comes by most days to see his daughter and dear family friends for breakfast at the very least. You have loved your life with your father, but at times like these, when you are laughing at and listening to the loving snipes and bickering of the Bridgerton siblings, you often wonder what it would have been like to have a more traditional upbringing. Pushing that thought out of your mind, you stand and pull Eloise up with you so that the two of you can follow the Duchess to the next room where you’re expected to choose from the glittering selection of dresses laid out for tonight.

As you lean towards selecting a pretty lavender gown, Daphne fills you in on the processional arrangements for your entrances tonight, “Mama, Franny, Anthony and Kate will take the first carriage, then you, Eloise and I will follow in the second. We will enter the ball in that order as well.”

“What about Colin and Ben?”

“They’re meeting with some friend from Colin’s travels whom he met in… I want to say Greece? They will make their own way and meet us at the ball.” You nod agreeably; as long as everyone is together at some point or another, your first season event will feel a lot less daunting.

---

As you walk into the Danbury estate, you cannot but feel a bit overwhelmed by all the elegance and glamour on display. Though no stranger to luxury and finer things, it’s not very often that you find yourself amidst so much opulence. Eyes shining as you take in the finery, your voice is full of excitement and genuine awe as you compliment Lady Danbury and thank her for hosting tonight’s soiree. Hand clasped tight in Daphne and Eloise’s as you make your way down the main hall to the ballroom, you see Colin further down on the right side of the hallway, waving alongside Benedict. Waiting by the wall with the Bridgerton brothers is a third gentleman, tall and broad shouldered with soft, curly brown hair who currently has his back to you; Colin has on a mischievous grin and he’s speaking to the stranger quietly, eyes flitting back to you and his sisters periodically as you approach. This can’t be good, you think with suspicion. When you’re a few steps away from meeting with the brothers, Colin gives the stranger a slight nod and he turns around; before you even have a chance to look upon the newcomer’s face, you hear a familiar sweet baritone voice say, “Hello, Dulce.”

At first, you’re in shock; the Spanish word for candy is not a nickname people commonly call you and it’s one you haven’t heard in over ten years. Then joy of recognition and realization overtake you and you completely forget where you are, crying out, “Pero!!!” Your arms behave of their own accord and fly open to wrap around his neck as you launch yourself into the handsome man’s arms.

He hugs you back firmly and whispers low in your ear, “Happy to see you, too” before releasing you, the both of you immediately stepping apart and drop your hands to your sides, remembering where you are and that the eyes of the ton are always watching. But you can’t help but beam; nor can you look away from Pero’s face.

Pero Tovar had been your most constant and beloved friend for many of your happiest childhood years spent abroad. Pero’s father, a Barón of Spain, was in charge of naval governance for his country in a similar capacity as your father was for England and accordingly, their paths crossed regularly in foreign countries. Both men of gentlemanly dispositions, the Count and the Barón had forged a deep and lasting friendship as they conducted their business. Another thing that they had bonded over was the fact that they were both widows who uncharacteristically chose to bring and raise their children with them on their travels.

So, although Pero is eight years your elder and already in his early teens when you first met, being the only two children of sea loving foreign diplomats in the strange lands you found yourselves in readily recommended you to each other and you had become happy and frequent playmates. Pero devoted hours and hours to your amusement, allowing himself to play more juvenile games of pretend that he may not otherwise with compatriots of his own age, and with his encouragement you grew to be brave and curious, always wishing to keep up with the older boy. He helped you with your studies, and you played music for him, learning and mastering the pieces he enjoyed the most. The two of you shared a love of literature and it became your special version of a traditional hunt in each new country you landed in to find foreign language versions of the other’s favourite books so that you could read the translations alongside your worn English copies. Some of the most cherished copies of your favourite books, ones you carry with you from country to country still, were gifts from Pero.

As you got older, your shared adventures expanded to include exploring the streets of new cities, trying local cuisines and frolicking on the beaches of the coasts of Italy, Portugal and even India. The last time you had seen him, he was a strapping young man of twenty and you had been twelve. His father was returning to Spain for an undetermined amount of time to deal with affairs of his estate, and Pero would be entering university, having postponed his acceptance for two years already. Although you had each promised to write, the letters were far and few between and eventually you lost track of Pero – you can hardly blame either of you; you were travelling with your father and not always easy to find, and you didn’t really expect a young man concentrating on his studies to have the time to write to a young girl despite having been her very best friend for so many years.

But now he’s standing right in front of you and you can hardly believe your eyes. He’s impossibly tall and wide, a far cry from the lanky boy with whom you scrambled over rocks on the beaches of Portugal, but he’s still tanned, leading you to surmise that he must still sail or at least get a healthy amount of sun regularly. And while his face is older, devastatingly handsome with a cutting jawline partially hidden by untamed facial scruff, he’s completely recognizable to you. An easy clue is the scar that runs from above his left eyebrow down past his eye, though faded from when you saw it last, but it’s the indulgent smile he’s giving you right now that gives him away to you.

“What are you doing at this ball? Did you know I would be here?” you can’t help but continue to stare at Pero wide-eyed, grinning like a fool.

“Oh! We made the connection earlier this week at dinner,” chimes in Colin, “We were going to bring him over to the house but thought this would be more fun.”

You make to swat at Colin’s arm. “How did you meet this scoundrel?” you jest, with absolutely no malice in your voice, pointing your thumb at the still laughing Bridgerton brother. As your group starts to move towards the ballroom, Pero falls into an easy step by your side, “We met when Colin was taking in the crisp sea air of Mykonos, and then again last year in the vineyards of Tuscany. He made for excellent company after a long day of helping the locals prune grape vines. Naturally, when I arrived in London for business this month, I had to look him up.”

Daphne is now tugging you towards the ballroom by your hand, and in turn, you’ve grabbed onto and are practically dragging Eloise down the hall with you. You shout back to Pero, “I want to hear everything!” and can’t help the smile that spreads across your excited face when he nods after you.

“Oh!” you breathe, invigorated from the surprise of seeing Pero, as you come to a stop right before the entrance way. Daphne smiles over at you, “It was so hard keeping it a secret from you!”

You’re astonished, “You knew about Pero as well?”

“Yes, I thought it might give you an additional boost of confidence to have another friend’s support during your first event.”

You smile at your sweet friend and squeeze her hand affectionately, “Thank you! It does and I’m delighted to see Pero again. But in truth, my confidence could never be lacking when I have a friend like you next to me.”

Daphne gives you her biggest smile and squeezes your hand right back. A moment later, the three of you step into the ballroom and meet the gazes of the other attendees as you’re announced.

---

The ball is a whirlwind. It seems you hardly have a moment to even catch your breath, never mind catch up with Pero. From the moment you walked in to the grand hall, you were pulled in this direction and then that, introduced to new person after new person, some of whose names were familiar from your visits home over the years, and others only from the copious amounts of study you’ve done on the ton over the past week. You’ve certainly forgotten all their names by now.

Then it’s dance after dance after dance with the young gentleman that Daphne parades in front of you. The dancing itself is quite pleasant and a lovely way to shake out some of your jitters, but you find the small talk hardly enough to get to know your partners, and when the dance is over and you’re once again being whisked away to another introduction or meeting that the Duchess has lined up for you. The few opportunities you’ve had to take a breather and indulge in a glass of lemonade, you’ve been happy to retreat back to Pero and your small familiar group; but just when you’ve started to entreat your old friend to open up about his adventures since you saw him last, another potential suitor will be introduced and the entire cycle starts over again.

It’s only when you’re halfway through the evening that the frenzy has died down enough that you can observe and be amused by Pero’s behaviour at the ball. While you’re constantly twirling around the dancefloor, you notice that he never leaves his position against the wall and doesn’t dance at all; he mainly scowls and looks displeased, hardly speaking to anyone other than the Bridgertons or you when you have a free moment. You feel his eyes follow you as you glide across the dance floor with the young men that have asked you to dance, and even when you’re making your way through the room on Daphne’s arm, meeting and making small talk with the other families of the ton. When you do happen to look up and search for him, you often find him glowering and looking dissatisfied, though if you catch his eye, his expression will soften slightly.

Once while you were dancing with Lord Whitfield, you had caught Pero’s eye mid-turn and made a silly quizzical face at him, as if to ask What’s going on with you? and you think you see him laugh briefly before the steps of the dance require you to turn away from him. You wonder why frowns so fearsomely and if there’s a reason for him to be so stoic and curt with the rest of the ton. It’s so odd to you as you’ve never had so much as a cross word from him in all the time you’ve known him, not even when you had snuck out of the compound in Singapore when you were nine so you could watch the fireworks display. Pero had come looking for you, his face serious and eyes panicked when he finally found you in the busy square, but he never once got mad. Instead, he swore not to tell your father, and promised that if you had wanted to see the fireworks up close, he would accompany you. And then he did just that the next night and the night after that. But here, when not engaging the company of his friends, Pero’s countenance is positively sour. Any hopes harboured by the mamas of the ton for snagging a Spanish nobility son-in-law this season are quickly dashed. Barón Tovar is decidedly not here to find a wife.

With the evening more than half over, you realize that unless you make the point to do so, an opportunity to speak more than a few minutes with Pero will surely not present itself. And while you are having fun meeting potential suitors, your mind consistently wanders to Pero throughout the evening. Aside from simply wishing to catch up with him and be in his comforting presence, you do have something important you feel compelled to speak to him on.

After a particularly spirited quadrille, you curtsey your gratitude for the dance to Mr. Sedgewick, and before any of the young men you spy hovering nearby can approach you, you hurry as elegantly as you can toward where Pero is standing awkwardly pressed to the wall.

Pero, having seen the look of determination on your face when seeking him out, asks with concern when you come up to him, “Is everything okay, Dulce?”

There he is, you smile when you see the kind, gentle expression of the boy that you knew for so many years, “Everything is fine, Pero. Although I must admit to needing a respite from all the endless socializing. Do you think we could get some lemonade?”

“Of course. I would be happy to accompany you in fetching a glass.”

With Pero by your side, any person who previously had designs on engaging you during this brief break between dances now thinks better of it; you chuckle to yourself as his fearsome expression comically paves a clear path for you to the refreshments table. Once having secured your drink, you ask Pero if you can speak to him privately.

Careful not to lead you from view of other people lest it incite a scandal, Pero finds a quiet place in the entrance hallway and turns to find you looking up at him rather seriously.

When you’re certain you have his attention, you launch into your confession, “Pero, please allow me to tell you how sorry I was to hear of your father’s passing. I remember him as such a kind, generous man, and such a wonderful friend to my father and by extension, me. I will always think of him with tremendous fondness.”

“Thank you, Dulce. I know he thought very highly of both you and your father and forever treasured your friendships.”

But you’re not done and start to shake your head, eyes filling with tears, “And I’m so very sorry that I did not write to you at the time. I didn't know where you were, but I should have been more diligent in my efforts to find you. I deeply regret not being there for you if you needed someone. I hope you were not alone during that difficult time.”

You hang your head in shame. Pero feels a deep affection for you blossoming in his chest; before him is the same sweet and compassionate girl he knew when he was a boy. Tender-hearted and endlessly considerate of the feelings of others, you always had more empathy than you knew what to do with; he himself had been on the receiving end of your care and concern more times than he could count. Pero gently tips you chin up with his gloved finger, “It was a tough time and I miss him a great deal. But he was an incredible man and I strive to follow the example he set for me everyday. So, in many ways, he is still with me. No need for any apologies.” He gives you what he hopes is a soft and reassuring smile.

In return, you grin, “Who are you and what have you done with my friend? The boy I knew would have made me pay dearly for even the slightest offense - my portion of dessert for a week, at the very least.”

Unable to hold back his own grin, Pero is finding it easy to slip back into this familiar type of playful banter with you, “Well, I was trying to be a gentleman, but since you think me nothing more than a brute, I shall have no trouble devising an appropriate punishment. For your transgression against me, I demand… a dance.”

You laugh whole-heartedly and it feels wonderful to laugh loudly at something genuinely funny rather than the quiet polite laughter you’ve been making most of the evening. “A dance? Well, that is hardly a concession for me! One dance with you means one less spot on my dance card for some lord I don’t know but who Daphne thinks I might find charming,” you joke.

“Are you finding your potential suitors so far to be villains or are they all just very boring?” smirks Pero.

Giving him a little punch in the arm to show him you’re not really complaining, “I am not so terribly unfeeling. They are for the most part fine enough gentlemen. The particular circumstance we find ourselves in just makes them so very eager. It can feel terribly awkward.”

“None of them are good enough for you anyway.”

“Oh, and you are?” you jest, eyes full of mirth.

“Dulce, I’m the worst of the bunch,” counters Pero, leaning in close.

“I don’t doubt it,” you haven’t smiled this wide all evening.

“Be that as it may, the price you must pay to regain my favour remains the same. Shall we?” Pero holds out his arm, waiting for you to accept his dance invitation; you hold on to him gratefully and head back into the main ballroom, realizing this is the first dance of the ball that you’ve truly looked forward to.

When Pero takes his place across from you, the tittering from the crowd that the Barón has finally taken to the dance floor can be heard over the opening notes of the music. You can’t help but giggle, and Pero beams back at you – your light laughter more melodic than any music he’s ever heard.

Hand firmly curling around your waist, Pero sways you to the beat and the two of you carry out the steps of the dance comfortably together. You hadn’t realized how much stress you’ve been under or how much tension you’ve been holding in until now, when you find yourself actually relaxing in Pero’s strong hold. For the first time this evening, you’re dancing without nerves or the pressure of having to make polite conversation or a good first impression; you can simply be. You sigh in contentment.

“What is it, Dulce? Are my dance skills not to the standard set by your other partners this evening?”

“Hardly,” you chuckle, “I know for a fact that you dance remarkably well. And if I were to have any complaints, the blame would rest squarely on my shoulders since we learned these dances together.”

“That’s true, we can only be as good as the partners we practice with.”

“Exactly. At least that’s what Madam used to say, right before she would rap you on your shoulders with her rhythm baton,” you muse, nostalgic.

“That weapon had a name? I have not thought of Madam for many years now, but upon my word if I did not straighten up and stiffen my arms just now.”

You share another chortle as only two close friends with a long history of fond memories and inside jokes between them can. When you sigh again, Pero cocks his scarred eyebrow at you.

“Do not think me dissatisfied, my Lord. It is simply just so comfortable dancing with you, as if it has not been over ten years since we last did so.”

“I feel the same way, Dulce.”

You smile sincerely at Pero; although you could explain yourself further, you somehow know that he understands your meaning without you having to do so. Feeling content, both heart and mood light in the safety of Pero’s closed frame, you find yourself wishing that you could spend the rest of the ball dancing with only him.

I've never done a tag list before so please let me know if it doesn't work, or you don't/do want to be on it, or it sets your phone on fire 😅 @drewharrisonwriter @inept-the-magnificent @tuquoquebrute @titabel

#pero tovar #regency!pero tovar #pero tovar fic #pero tovar fanfiction #bridgerton au #pero tovar x you #pero tovar x f!reader #pero tovar x reader #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #no y/n

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nightgoodomens · 2 days

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God I really can't with people on X 😭 No No let it be, shit is too funny tbf🤣🤣 what got me wheezing is the fact that "good fans" feel the urgent NEED to include " besties, work husbands, friendship goals" on the pic they're posting like somehow it makes it less gay😭😂 bro we know and we know that you know too, who are you putting up the show for? come off it pleasesss🤭 THE gayest thing you can do is to wear a " totally not homo" shirt with your bestie and walk down the street😂 istg, if I had 0 idea of who those dudes are and just bumped into one of their usual pics with those captions, I'd confidently bet my life on " 💯 homo"

It’s hilarious how it always works with them, isn’t it? Ladies will post a PR pic where the man looks like he is having a mental breakdown and they scream how much love and devotion they see and oh my god mom and dad and omg couple goals and omg this and that.

DT/MS appear being genuinely fucking sweet - oh haha. WORK husbands. They love each other PLATONICALLY. Such FRIENDSHIP. Besties! It’s like a disclaimer at this point that just means “please don’t hate me”. I have never witnessed a fandom who’d have the celebs tell them they’re in love, love each other, compliment each other constantly, call each other partner, boyfriend, husband… never said anything about being just friends etc etc… and the fandom would hetero-wash them. Fucking incredible.

At this stage things are so obvious that people choosing to not see them and instead lash out and shove them in a closet… they really should ask themselves why they’re doing it.

#NightGoodOmens talks PR

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vestaclinicpod · 13 hours

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Audio Drama Sunday - 28th April ✨

Happy Audio Drama Sunday! I started two new shows this week and fell in love with both of them!!

👻 @tellnotalespod (S2E8.5) ohhhhhh I’m so emotional. The end of this series is going to make me cry so many happy tears, I can just feel it.

🌲 @hellofromthehallowoods (149) With the description this week, I think I truly realised just how scary-looking the pig man is 😰 Things are looking decidedly down for Shelby and Clem. Eek. God, Valerie!!! She’s such an interesting character because you can literally connect the dots of her trauma but still be slightly disappointed by the consequences on her behaviour! And the poor Mr Greenstreets ☹️ Raj is very Syrensyr coded?? Vincent as a grief counsellor makes me wonder… about who or what Voltaire is….

Also, I want the Auditor to be Polly so bad and I want Nikignik to get out of the interrogation by bargaining to reunite him with Yaretzi and Mort - PLEASE.

🧳 Travelling Light by @monstrousproductions (19) I loved seeing our Traveller stand up for themself!! It’s always so fun to see characters who are usually soft gain a backbone of steel because their core values are tested. And the discussion of the nanobots was so interesting!! The laws on nanobots elsewhere when they are literally required for survival makes the entire person illegal. And we all know that’s not right!!!

👁️ @malevolentcast (41) I’m thinking that maybe Rafters was an exception that proves the rule… Alexander the owl was creepy as anything and I hated the way he seemed to be guiding them towards the crack in the wall. Now we’re in a possible parallel universe, it feels like all bets are off and I’m scared to even consider what might happen to John and Arthur now!

⚔️ @camlannpod (8) OUGH. Oh my god. Can’t they just have FIVE MINUTES to RELAX?? I actually snorted out loud at: ‘you’re good with an axe, right’. Pere is a little shit and I love that for them. Morgan!!! 🫨 And Dai!!! I’m so hopeful that starting down this path will lead to good (or, at least, a whole load of shenanigans for S2!)

🖥️ The Magnus Protocol (13) It’s very interesting to me that we were able to listen in on Sam and Cecilia’s date… how did that work? There’s something here about gambling and chance with this story and the previous one about the dice rolling?? I’m connecting the dots (I’m not connecting shit).

🌞 Small Victories by @wgc-productions is so good, I wish I’d started listening years ago. I love the 90s sitcom vibe and the intro/outro are so unique. I absolutely love shows that centre around character studies. Marisol’s story is so gripping and I love how the writing takes us right inside her brain as she justifies every decision (good or bad). It’s so clear how loveable she is and how much people around her want her to be okay (mostly), but don’t know *how* to get her to that place given the shit they’re dealing with themselves! I got up to 1.09 so . . . bit of a cliffhanger there!! I’m very excited to see how the story progresses. I’m rooting for you, Tiny!!

🧋 I started @hinaypod and it’s safe to say that I’m in love already! Listening has given me the same amazing feeling of listening to Desperado - the sensation that the creators have opened up a door to a brand new world and I’m so happy to be in it! I adore Mari. Even from episode one, she has this quiet self-confidence in herself and her skills which is so refreshing. I also really like the horror writing here and I’m really looking forward to delving deeper into this story!

Hope everyone has a good week! 💙

#audiodramasunday #tell no tales #hfth spoilers #travelling light #malevolent spoilers #camlann #tmagp spoilers #small victories #hi nay

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haru-natsuka · 21 hours

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Second Male Leads Are all Yanderes but I Won't Rest Until I Win My Love Back (Female Reader x OCs)

CHAPTER 4

Story will start after the synopsis

Every second male lead who appeared in this world had a hidden yandere side that can emerge at any moment and turn them into a twisted and obsessive villain.

As someone with a severe case of the "second male lead syndrome", you are determined to pursue your love for the second male lead, leaving the original male lead to become the second.

While you were busy chasing after the second male lead, the original male lead kept on bothering you and trying to get you to choose him instead.

"Don't you dare to come any closer!" You snap at the original male lead, your tone sharp and firm.

"Oh, and who's going to stop me? You?" The yandere stares at you, a menacing look in their eyes, as their body slowly moves closer.

"Too close! Step back!"

"Your words mean nothing to me. You can't control me. I will come as close as I please, you can't stop me."

As if a yandere was not enough, when you chose to ignore the original male lead, another second male lead suddenly entered your life, further complicating the situation.

The yandere and the upcoming second male lead both seem determined to have you for themselves, and they were both very possessive and pushy in their approaches to you.

You just wanted to be happy with your true love. Yandere or not, you would stick with your crush!

CHAPTER 1 << CHAPTER 2 << CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4: THE LADIES

What was the meaning of happiness in your life? To you, it was when you had gotten to go out with your lovely Adrian, hands wrapped around his arm in a secure lock and the most important thing was, Adrian allowed you! Just seeing the envious looks on other ladies faces at the town was enough to make your smile even brighter.

'Yes! Adrian is mine! Back off'

"I'm doing you a favour, Adrian. I'm saving you from being ambush by all these predatory ladies" That was just an excuse as you tightened your hold on him, laid your head on his shoulder and acted as his protector and savior.

"Oh, you are? I am in debt to you then." Although you did not look at his face as you were busy laying your head on his shoulder but you could tell he was looking at your direction.

"Do you think they would've been able to lure me away from you?" His question sounded so playful but coming from Adrian, it was just out of pure curiosity. An angel who just wanted to know more about your thoughts.

"Will you?" You chose to withhold your answer for this one question and used his curiosity for this opportunity instead.

"If these ladies tried to lure you away from me, would you fall for their antics?" You asked, wanting to see how he would answer that question.

"I don't think so. I rather feel more comfortable being with you, out of everyone. You spend a lot of your time with me and I can't be more than thankful or..." Adrian's tone changed from his usual calm one into the one he would used whenever he would tease you for fun.

"or maybe it was the fact that you held onto me too tightly that I cannot escape to anywhere" You could feel his hot breath hit your face as he brought his face closer to you as he whispered.

'Too cute! Can I just pinch those cheeks.'

"Your words does not synchronies with your expression, Adrian. You had fun teasing me a lot these days"

As you were about to behave more respectful to Adrian's boundary by releasing your grip on his arm, as if he disliked the idea, Adrian placed a hand over yours. Your focus was back at him in question. When you looked into his eyes, they were glistening warmly and looking at you, giving you chills and a hint of excitement.

"This is the payment for my debt so do as you like"

'Do as I like? I-I ba-bad thoughts go away!'

"Look at these two undeclared young couple. Flirting with each other early in the morning" Suddenly, an old voice rang out, calling attention to you and Adrian from a fruit store. You immediately glanced over your shoulder to look at the source of the voice.

The person who spoke was none other than your dear madam, who smiled sheepishly at you with joy and rejoice. Your mood brightened when you saw her expression, as it was a reminder of her support of this relationship. She seemed overjoyed with your happiness and satisfaction, and this made you feel more grateful to her for her kindness and love towards you.

"You're mistaken, madam. We are not a couple yet," you clarified, politely explaining to her that you and Adrian were not a couple at this point in time.

"But pray for my success please. When we are together, madam would be the first person I told to."

Upon hearing your words, the madam's eyes widened and she displayed an expression that held a hint of disappointment. It was apparent that she had hoped for a different outcome, with the two of you already being a couple. That was why she was now feeling disappointed, after realizing that you still not success in pursuing your love for Adrian.

"Adrian still rejecting you?" The madam shifted her focus on Adrian.

"Young man, you should not let a beautiful flower alone when it's dazzlingly shine in front of you. You should treasure it before it flies away. As the flower blown by the wind, it would be hard for you to get it back"

Adrian remained silent and did not reply, his expression changing to one that you found difficult to fathom. You choose to be the one who continued the conversation. Mentally, questioning the meaning of his expression. He must felt uncomfortable with the old lady's words.

"Madam, I will never go away. I will never give up but I dont want to force Adrian to accept my feeling." You reassured the older lady, who was now actively supporting and rooting for you and yet failed miserably.

"That's the same answer you keep on repeating. I'm rooting for you, Y/N and do remember my warning young man."

Adrian remained silent all the way until both of you reached a bookstore, seemingly deep in thought. He did not seem to have much to say, and kept his thoughts to himself. You chose not to enter the bookstore with him to give him some space, and instead, simply waited outside while he went in.

As you waited outside the bookstore, you did not have much else to do except to inspect the stores around you in detail. You closely studied the signs, decorations, and interiors, as if they were the most interesting things you had ever seen. You took in all the various colors and designs of each store, and soaked it all in with great care and detail.

As you continued to inspect the stores around you, a sudden burst of noise and a crowd of people caught your attention. The crowd was gathered and concentrated in one spot, which caught your curiosity. So, you tiptoed closer in order to see what it was that had piqued their interest. When you eventually managed to get a glimpse of the source, you were shaken by what you saw.

As you were watching the scene unfold from your vantage point, you suddenly saw a familiar face that you recognized from your college days. It was the most hated man from your list, someone you absolutely despised. The man locked eyes with you, and immediately began approaching you at a rapid pace.

'No no he does not walking here right or he might wants to buy something from the store too. Yeah yeah that must be it. We had never even talked before'

You quickly scooted to the side, attempting to evade his path by moving out of the way. However, he continued to approach you, as if he had his sights set on you and had no intention of backing down. Without awaiting your consent, he abruptly grabbed your wrist and pulled you close to him, seeming insistent in engaging in a direct interaction with you.

'The hand that only meant for Adrian! What with this bastard with his unrespectful behavior?! He just walks to me perfectly fine but still need to pull me? That's not important right now. The thing is, don't you dare disturbing my outing with my man!'

@d3sperate-enuf @sirenetheblogger @orinnie @aoiyx @chin-chii

This time, I want to focus on the growth of the interaction for Adrian and Y/N. Are the dialogues too much though? But I do enjoy writing it this way. Isn't it too fluffy and cute?! Enjoy your weekend while accompanied by this story.

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clubdionysus · 3 days

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[THE FIRST BAD DECISION] Prologue

warnings: alcohol, partying, kissing strangers

wc: 2.4k

bd total wc: 540k (on-going)

minors dni | AO3 | series masterlist

FOUR YEARS EARLIER

Jeon Jeongguk looks devastatingly pretty with cherry-red lips. Smudged and a little faded, they leave the faintest mark on the end of his cigarette—a bad habit, he knows, but one that he picked up as an excuse to flirt with a girl whose lips are far more crimson than his.

Of course they are, though. How else would she stain him in evidence of her existence if they weren't?

Even when he's tarnished in her, there's no evidence of him on her. Nothing to tell new acquaintances to stay away—and Hayun loves making new friends.

A bottle of Jack rests by his feet. Neat. A little lukewarm. Ass perched on the curb outside a house just off campus, he's in no mood to get himself embroiled in the debauchery he knows his friends are partaking in. Just wants to clear his head.

Foolishly hopes she'll do the same. That she'll notice his absence. That her heart will ache like his currently is.

In their final year of studies, his friends are all letting loose for the final time before they have to cram for finals. It's a night of celebration. Of last-chances. Of opportunities that won't present themselves again for a good few lunar orbits.

And so while he may not have the same restrictions, having started his studies a little later than scheduled, he's been making the most of it with them.

Quiet kisses hidden from his friends are fun. He likes them. Loves them, even.

But to then watch her very publicly let a guy make moves on her? To make moves back?

Feels fuckin' awful.

"Oh, you know what?" A voice echoes from the porch of the house behind him. "You can take her violin and shove it up your ass, you ostentatious, pseudo-intellectual prick."

It's a little twisted, but it brings Jeongguk comfort to know he isn't the only one with a shitty excuse for a love life. Knows he shouldn't listen in—but fuck it.

"Where does she keep her violin, huh? In your trousers? 'Cause that's the only way that what I just saw and what you're saying could even possibly correlate," the girl continues, unrelenting in the way she dictates her speech. Barely lets her partner get a word in edge-ways. "No? She not a tiny violin specialist? The rooms aren't that dark, dickhead."

He thinks the tirade is over, but finds himself laughing when he hears, "And not to brag, but my last eye exam went exceptionally well, so don't you dare try and tell me I was seeing shit. Twenty-twenty vision, baby."

It's easy to tell whoever is speaking is deliberating adding a little dramatic flare to their words. Is definitely drunk. Is also definitely not afraid of standing her ground.

Glancing over his shoulder as he stubs out his cigarette, he's surprised to see the girl—you—on the phone instead of confronting someone in person.

In a pretty little party dress, you're just the right combination of hot mess. Even from a fair distance away, he can notice the glitter all over your skin. Not really his type—so different from Hayun—but there's something about you. Something that intrigues him. Makes it hard to look away.

"She could be fuckin' Vivaldi for all I care!" You seethe into your phone. "Does it sound like I give a shit if she's the best in her class? You want me to give her a gold medal or something? Don't piss me off. Prick."

Jeongguk would argue that you're already pissed off. With a tone of voice like that, you must be.

There's a final curse, and then your phone is almost thrown across the front lawn. Almost. You know better. Know that you can't afford to replace the screen if you shatter it. Instead, you have to grit your teeth and scream.

It's only once you finish your venting of frustration that you notice a pair of starry eyes on you.

Raising your brows, you shake your head in his direction. "Can I help?"

And then he fucking laughs. Shrugs. Is pleased to see it makes you smile, too.

"Really hate violin, don't you?"

Shaking your head, far kinder this time, you sigh. "Don't have much of an opinion on them. Not unless it's the strings in the intro of Untouched by The Veronicas. In that case, the violin is the greatest instrument known to man."

"Untouched? The Veronicas?" he laughs, suddenly reminded of a song he hasn't heard in years. "Didn't realise it was still 2005."

"Hey, don't be judgy," you say as you walk towards him, perching down on the curbside, too. "It's a classic."

"Never said it wasn't," he defends, reaching down for his bottle of Jack and offering it over to you. "Boyfriend trouble?"

Shaking your head, you decide that unloading your problems onto a stranger is exactly what this night calls for.

"Girl I've been seeing. Wasn't that serious." Nodding towards the bottle you add, "You first."

"Seemed pretty serious," he mumbles, before swigging down his whiskey. Jack is shit, in his opinion, but it's cheap and it gets the job done. Clearing his throat with a small 'ah', he holds it back over for you to take. "Satisfied?"

You don't vocalise a response—but you do take the bottle from him and ignore the burn as it races down your throat. Of everything you'd choose to drink, Jack Daniels would not be it. You like fruity things. Had been on vodka cranberry juice all night.

"Wasn't serious," you double down, then shrug. "Can't let people think they can get away with bad behaviour, though. Let them do it once, and they'll do it again and again."

It's something you're adamant about. Something you'll do well to remember.

"Anyway, you know why I'm out here like a miserable bitch," you continue as you pass the bottle back. "What brings you here?"

"Something similar."

It's only now that you really take him in for all that he is.

Same age as you, you think, judging by his build. Though his shoulders are broad, he hasn't properly filled out yet—he's trying, though. You can see the definition in his arms. His shoulders. Clearly is trying to shape himself into a man. No longer a teenager, but not really an adult. With eyes like that, though, he'll always look a little younger than he is. His dark hair waves around his features, so casually undone you know he must have put a lot of effort into it. It's sweet.

He tries, and that's more than can be said for most of the boys at the party.

"It doesn't suit you," you tell him.

"Hm?"

"The red lipstick," you nod towards the sheen on his lips. There's a little on his neck, too. His T-shirt is black, but you imagine there's some there, as well. "You'd look better without it."

"It's not mine."

"Guessed as much," you softly smile. "So what, then? Your girlie pissed all over her territory? So no one else would approach you? Then decided she wanted to play elsewhere?"

"Something like that."

"Girlfriend?"

Jeongguk just shrugs. Tells the truth, even if it feels like a lie. "Just friends."

"You kiss all your friends?"

"Just one."

"Ouch," you wince. Friends-with-benefits situations are dumb, you think. Wouldn't ever wanna end up in one. Know they end in unbearable heartbreak. "That's rough."

He nods. Knows how it'll end, too, even if he's been trying to tell himself otherwise.

"Well, we're friends, now," you declare, definitely too drunk to be making good decisions. "You and me. Have bonded over terrible people doing terrible things."

He wants to tell you that Hayun isn't terrible.

Instead, he raises a brow at your fledgling—and fleeting—friendship.

"If she's off making new friends, then maybe you should consider kissing your other friends," you playfully shrug, knowing better than to get involved in a situation like this. "Y'know... make it even."

And Jeongguk is well aware he shouldn't indulge in your flirt, but he's hurting. Wants to feel wanted—and the way you're looking at him? He can't remember the last time Hayun looked at him like that.

The way you see it, you'll never see this man again. You could both do with a little pick-me-up. Confirmation that life goes on, even if the people you date are awful.

A kiss is just a kiss.

Or at least, for now, it is. One day, you'll develop a complex. Blame Seokjin.

But you're yet to meet him. Yet to unlearn all your rules and make far feebler, more pathetic ones in their place.

"Y'know, you're kinda cute," you whisper, edging closer ever so slightly.

"Kinda?" He tweaks a brow, eyes not on yours, but on your lips. There's a little glitter in your gloss. Think maybe it'll suit him better.

"Mhmm," you hum, reaching up to lightly trace your thumb across his bottom lip, ridding him of a little bit of his very own red flag. "Kinda. Never kissed a guy with a lip piercing."

Just a stud, he's only had it a little while. Was trying to make himself look a little older. Sharper. Light from the house catches in it as your thumb pulls back - but Jeongguk pulls closer. Nudges his nose against yours. Holds it there for a second.

"Maybe I should take one for the team," he husks, lips brushing yours. "Just so you know what it's like."

Nodding, you let your nose stroke against his. "You'd be such a good friend if you did."

Lips parted, the end of your sentence grants him permission to sink his lips between yours. Slow as he does so, Jeongguk's scared of fucking it up.

Hasn't kissed anyone that isn't Hayun for months, now. Isn't even sure he knows how to.

And yet as soon as you press down into the kiss, his mind is void of her. Totally blank. Pitch black, until the faintest of stars begin to appear. Sparkle. Shine.

There's a sweetness to you, even despite the whiskey. Maybe it's the cranberry juice. Maybe it's your lip gloss. Jeongguk doesn't have the mental capacity to decipher it, for he can feel your tongue stroking across his bottom lip—and then he's granting permission. Inviting you into his mouth. Stroking his tongue against yours, as if he's in the privacy of the party bathroom—not out front for everyone to see.

Shamelessly, he almost wants Hayun to see—but as quickly as a thought of her intrudes, it's replaced by the way you feel. It makes him pull you closer. Gets him whining into your mouth. Makes you smile.

It's confirmation that there's nothing wrong with you; that the girl you were seeing really was just a dickhead.

Pressing your hand to his chest, you slowly push him away. Are reluctant to finish kissing him. In fact, even as you push him back, your body follows, until you force yourself to pull back.

"There," you smile, a little infatuated with how sparkly his eyes appear. "Now you're even."

"We can make it odd, again, if you want," Jeongguk offers, far bolder than even he realises. Just doesn't wanna stop kissing you. Maybe it's just the whiskey. Yeah. He'll blame it on that.

"That's a bad decision waiting to happen," you laugh, getting to your feet, because you don't trust yourself to stay. "My purpose is served. Friends don't fuck you over. Stop wasting your kisses on people who are gonna fuck you over."

Your message is clear: she's not your friend.

It's a lesson he'll learn far too late in life.

"But you're ditching me?" He says as you begin to walk away. "That's not friendly!"

For a girl who should really be wallowing in self-pity, you're surprisingly chirpy. Jeongguk envies it. Wishes he could stop caring in the way that he does —he just doesn't realise your situationship really was as simple as they're supposed to be. The feelings were yet to fully develop.

If love is a choice—which you think, to a degree, it is—then before it can develop, choices have to be made. Your partner is supposed to choose you. The girl you'd been seeing has just demonstrated that she wouldn't choose you, and so why should you choose her?

Life is simpler before Seokjin; before you really know what it is to love.

Or, to love, and to not be chosen.

To choose, even when you're never chosen.

Sort of like how Jeongguk is, now.

"I'm doing you a favour!" You call back, tipsy smile just as radiant as you seem to be. You're jovial in your tone, and the attitude rubs off on him. Gets him smiling, too. "Saving you from yourself. If I kiss you again, you'll fall in love, baby. They always do!"

The way you jet off is spritely. Happy. Abundantly clear that you're yet to know what heartbreak really feels like.

The girl getting a little too friendly with the star violinist will be long forgotten by the time you meet Jeongguk once again, and so will he. In fact, the scar left by Seokjin manages to mangle just about all of your romantic memories prior to him.

You'll become folklore; a girl Jeongguk doesn't know the name of, but who Hayun is pretty sure is legally named 'Desperate Skank'. Someone they argue about on a few too many occasions. A memory he barely remembers, but in the heat of their drunken fight later that evening became a permanent sticking spot in their situationship.

'Cause while Hayun was off making friends, that's all she was doing. Getting numbers. Getting a little touchy-feely. Getting her ego stroked. Getting zero kisses, because she had been reserving them for him.

Why she was only making friends with six-foot-something muscle pigs with more protein powder in their system than common sense is another thing they'll argue about—but he's the one in the wrong this time, or so she makes sure to tell him.

He'll think of you sometimes. The memory will be hazy. Blurry, like driving down a midnight highway with astigmatism.

He'll think of you, and he'll see stars.

And when he sees you again in the dark of Dionysus a few years later, with no recollection of who you are, his brain will scream at him. Beg him to remember.

He won't.

But he will, inevitably, see stars once more.

AO3 | MASTERLIST | NEXT

#by holly #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fanfiction #jungkook angst #jungkook smut #jungkook ff #jk #jungkook x reader #jeongguk fanfic #bangtan #jungkook fluff #bartender!jungkook #non idol au #bts fanfic #jeongguk fic #bad decisions #dappleddaisies

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