#despair estate | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

tender-rosiey · 1 month ago

Note

I can’t get thisss out of my head and I wish I didn’t have adhd and could sit and write it correctly but oldest daughter y/n having to marry the brute lord Sukuna (arranged marriage type beat) and the only reason why she agrees is Becuase if she doesn’t marry him one of her sisters will have to and she just cannot bring herself to put her sisters threw that 😣😣😣

a garden among thorns — ryomen sukuna x f!reader

a/n: this is longer than most of my works, but i needed to do this idea as much justice as I can

your father’s face is pale as he kneels before the messenger, the weight of the moment pressing heavily on his shoulders.

his hands tremble in his lap, and his posture slumps, as if the air has been sucked from the room. the messenger stands tall and unyielding.

“lord sukuna requires one of your daughters to marry him,” the messenger states, his tone sharp and businesslike. “to refuse is…inadvisable.”

your mother gasps, clutching the edge of her robe, and your sisters exchange wide-eyed, horrified looks. aya’s grip tightens on hina’s sleeve, and hina’s mouth trembles, unable to form words.

you remain silent.

sukuna’s name hangs in the air like a curse—the king of curses feared across the land. to be sent to him is to step willingly into the jaws of a predator.

your father stammers, his voice barely above a whisper. “p-please…surely, there must be another way…”

the messenger’s gaze hardens, his words sharp and final. “lord sukuna does not make requests twice. you have until the week’s end to decide. one of your daughters will be sent to his estate.”

the messenger leaves, and the room plunges into a suffocating silence. your father collapses forward, burying his face in his hands, his body trembling with despair.

your mother’s sobs start quietly but grow louder, echoing through the room. aya clings to hina, her face pale with fear.

“I won’t let you choose,” you say, your voice cutting through the heavy silence.

all eyes turn to you in shock. your father lifts his head slowly, his expression a mixture of disbelief and sorrow. aya’s small hands clutch your arm. “no, you can’t mean—”

“I do,” you interrupt firmly, despite the turmoil gnawing at your chest. you meet each of their gazes, the weight of the choice pressing down on you.

your mother rises, hands trembling as she reaches for you, her face etched with anguish. “no, y/n. you’re the eldest, yes, but that doesn’t mean this burden should fall on you.”

you step back gently, removing her hands from your face. “do you want it to fall on aya? or hina?” you gesture toward your sisters, who stiffen at your words. “do you think they’ll survive with a man like him?”

aya shakes her head, tears streaming down her face. “you’re just as important as we are! why does it have to be you? please, don’t do this.”

you stand in front of her, brushing the tears from her face. “aya, I don’t want to go either. but if we don’t do this, sukuna will come for us.

he’ll take what he wants, and we won’t be able to stop him. you don’t deserve this life. hina doesn’t deserve it. at least I can try to protect you this way.”

aya sobs harder, her small frame shaking. “I can’t lose you,” she cries, burying her face in your shoulder.

you hold her tight, feeling the pain of this decision settle heavily on your chest. hina steps forward, her face unreadable. “be safe,” she whispers, her voice barely audible.

“I will,” you promise, though the words feel hollow.

your mother sobs uncontrollably into your father’s chest, and he remains silent, broken. he doesn’t stop you—he can’t. you know he wouldn’t, not in the face of sukuna’s power.

you pull away slowly, aya’s small hands slipping from your arm. “I’ll write,” you murmur, turning toward the door. “I’ll write as often as I can. you’ll be okay. just…take care of each other.”

they nod silently, but the fear in their eyes won’t fade.

your mother’s voice breaks through the quiet. “you’re so brave,” she whispers. “but I wish you didn’t have to be.”

you take a last look at your family, standing together in the doorway. their figures grow smaller as the cart takes you away, the weight of their sorrow heavy in your heart.

the world outside seems darker, colder as you leave them behind. the home you’re leaving is more than just a place; it is everything you know.

and with every step, you feel a piece of yourself slipping away.

the journey to sukuna’s estate feels endless, each passing mile colder than the last. the wind bites at your skin, and the clouds above seem to mirror the heaviness in your heart.

the long ride in the cart gives you ample time to think, but there is no solace to be found.

your family, the warmth of your home, and the lives you knew are fading into the distance, replaced by the looming unknown of sukuna’s estate.

your stomach churns with unease as you approach the gates. they are massive, imposing iron structures that seem to swallow the light, and as the carriage slows to a stop before them, the oppressive silence only amplifies the dread in your chest.

the heavy gates groan open with a reluctance that seems to mirror your own, revealing the vast grounds of sukuna’s estate.

everything about this place screams power—an estate built to intimidate, to assert dominance over all who enter.

the stone paths are harsh and cold beneath your feet as you step out of the carriage. the servants who meet you are stiff, their eyes avoiding yours as they take your belongings.

you are no more than a stranger in their world, a burden that they carry, and you feel the sting of that isolation.

as you make your way inside the grand hall, your footsteps echo in the silence. it’s all so stark, so cold. the air feels thick with tension, and as you round the corner into the heart of the estate, you are met with the full weight of his presence.

sukuna sits at the head of a long table in a massive hall, his eyes fixed on you as you enter. the sight of him is enough to take your breath away—his posture relaxed, yet every inch of him exudes power.

his dark crimson robes shift slightly as he stands, towering over you with an unsettling ease. his gaze is sharp.

“so,” he says, “you’re the one they sent.”

you stand tall, refusing to let the weight of his gaze break you. beneath the surface, your heart races, but you force yourself to keep it steady.

“I came of my own choice,” you reply, your voice firm but betraying a hint of the turmoil churning inside.

his lips curl into a smirk, an expression laced with amusement and something darker. “did you, now? brave. or foolish.”

the words sting, but you bite back the retort that rises to your lips. there’s no point in showing him weakness. “I’m not foolish,” you say, your voice colder than you intended, but it’s enough to get his attention.

he chuckles, a sound rich with disdain and amusement. “well, little wife, you’ll learn soon enough what your choice means.”

his eyes glint with a dangerous promise, and despite your resolve, something tightens in your chest.

after that meeting, his presence lingers, an almost tangible force, but he keeps his distance. it’s not until later that night, when you’re left alone in your new room, that the weight of your decision truly hits.

the walls feel too close, and the silence is suffocating.

life at sukuna’s estate is harsh, far colder than you anticipated. the mansion itself is sprawling and filled with echoing corridors, but it never feels warm.

the servants, though polite, are distant, as if afraid to make eye contact. your days are spent in isolation, wandering the gardens or sitting alone in your chambers, trying to make yourself useful without getting in the way.

you are nothing more than a visitor in this grand, empty place—a prize claimed by a man who has no use for you beyond the title you now bear.

at times, sukuna’s presence seems to vanish entirely, leaving you to grapple with the silence. but on other days, his sharp words cut through the air like blades, his moods as unpredictable as the wind.

he is a storm, sweeping through the halls when he deigns to speak, his eyes always sharp, always calculating.

one afternoon, you are working in the garden, your hands busy with the familiar task of pulling weeds, trying to occupy your mind.

the scent of earth and flowers is the only thing that feels real in this place. a soft breeze stirs the air, and for a fleeting moment, you almost feel like you’re back home.

but then, you hear his voice. it’s low and mocking, a drawl that sends a shiver down your spine.

“do you plan to sulk forever?” sukuna asks, his tone cutting through the air.

you glance up from your task, narrowing your eyes at him. he stands in the doorway, leaning casually against the frame, his robe flowing around him like an aura of danger.

“I’m not sulking,” you reply, your voice clipped, though you know it’s a lie. you are, in fact, sulking—trying to retreat into yourself because it’s the only way to survive this.

“could’ve fooled me,” he retorts, a smirk curling at the edges of his lips. “you’ve been quieter than a graveyard since you got here.”

you get ticked off by his words but force yourself to stay composed. “what would you have me do? laugh at your jokes?” you don’t know why you say it, but the challenge is there, raw and unfiltered.

he chuckles, a deep, rumbling sound that grates on your nerves. “I don’t tell jokes.”

you mutter under your breath, “clearly.”

to your surprise, he doesn’t take offense. instead, he raises an eyebrow, his eyes narrowing slightly as he steps into the garden.

his presence fills the space, as if he owns it. he leans against the stone wall, watching you with a mixture of curiosity and something more.

you feel his hand hold the top of your head for a moment, and he hums, “at least you’ve got a spine. I’d hate to have a wife who folds like paper.”

you don’t know what to make of the compliment—or if it’s even meant as one. but his words, though gruff, are the first acknowledgment he’s given you that isn’t full of disdain or indifference.

“I don’t fold,” you reply, try to shake his hand off. you find yourself meeting his gaze, a silent challenge passing between the two of you.

for a long moment, sukuna doesn’t say anything. the tension hangs in the air, thick and unspoken. then, finally, his lips curl into something that might be the start of a smile, though it’s fleeting.

“good,” he says, his voice almost too soft for you to catch. “you’ll need that fire, wife.”

you don’t respond, but as the days pass, his words linger in your mind. slowly, something starts to shift. his unpredictable moods, his sharp words, his occasional moments of unexpected gentleness—they all begin to add up.

it’s not love, not yet, but something else.

you’re not sure if you want to like him, but the more time you spend in his presence, the more you begin to understand him. in return, he seems to start observing you more closely, his interest piqued.

whether you like it or not, you are now bound together in this cold, sprawling estate, and the strange, slow pull between you grows with each passing day.

the first real instance happens during dinner. the grand dining hall is silent, save for the soft clinking of silver against porcelain.

sukuna sits at the head of the table, a looming figure of power, draped in his usual white and black.

his gaze flicks to you once, but he doesn’t speak. it’s a familiar pattern by now—he speaks only when he has something to say, and even then, his words are sparse, deliberate.

but tonight, as you reach for the pitcher of wine, your hand knocks over the glass beside it. the sound of the glass tipping and shattering against the floor startles everyone in the room.

a sharp, echoing crack. the servants freeze, eyes flicking nervously from the broken shards to sukuna.

you stand frozen, the glass at your feet, heart racing. the tension in the room thickens, but no one moves. you glance up at sukuna, half-expecting the usual cold indifference or a sharp rebuke.

but tonight, his dark eyes flicker to the broken glass before meeting yours. there’s something in his gaze—a spark of amusement—before he leans back in his chair, arms crossed, his posture lazy but commanding.

“careful, little wife,” he drawls, his voice low and slightly mocking, but there’s no malice in it. “I wouldn’t want to see you spill any more of my wine.”

you nod, instinctively bending down to pick up the shards, but before your fingers even touch the glass, sukuna’s voice cuts through the air.

“stop,” he commands, his tone sharp and unwavering.

you freeze mid-motion, looking up to find his gaze already fixed on you.

“clean this up,” sukuna commands, glancing at the servants, his voice a deep rumble that makes the servants rush to obey without a word.

as they quickly gather the shards, sukuna’s attention returns to you, though his eyes linger a moment longer than necessary.

“you seem eager to be useful,” he observes, his voice tinged with a hint of something almost approving. “but I’d rather not have my wife make herself filthy for something as trivial as this.”

you open your mouth but stop, unsure if you want to argue with him or remain silent.

a week later, you find yourself in the garden again, absentmindedly tending to the flowers that line the stone walls.

the peace of the garden is a brief escape from the heaviness inside the mansion, and you’ve come to cherish the quiet moments there.

this time, however, you hear footsteps approaching behind you. you don’t need to turn around to know it’s him. the weight of his presence is unmistakable.

“I see you’ve found your little sanctuary,” sukuna’s voice comes.

you don’t answer at first, focused on trimming the overgrown vines. his footsteps stop, and for a moment, there’s just the sound of the wind rustling the leaves and the faint scent of flowers in the air.

“are you going to ignore me every time I approach?” he asks, a hint of curiosity and a bit of annoyance lacing his words. “you don’t seem like the type to hide from confrontation.”

you glance over your shoulder, meeting his gaze for a brief moment. his eyes are narrowed, but there’s no hostility in them. it’s a rare look for him—almost like he’s testing you, waiting for your response.

“I’m not hiding,” you reply, your voice steady, though there’s an edge to it. “I just prefer peace.”

sukuna steps closer, a slight smirk tugging at his lips as he watches you work. “peace? in my estate?” his laugh is low and dark, more of a scoff than an actual laugh. “you won’t find that here, little wife.”

you focus on the flowers in front of you, resisting the urge to let his words unsettle you. but for some reason, you can’t quite brush off the way he’s watching you.

“I didn’t expect to,” you reply, your voice quieter now, softer.

there’s a beat of silence, and then, to your surprise, sukuna crouches beside you. his presence looms close, his eyes scanning the flowers you’re tending to. “they’re not bad,” he says.

you glance up at him, meeting his gaze. for a moment, the weight of the estate, the pressure of being in his presence, fades away.

it’s just the two of you, sitting in this strange, delicate quiet.

“well, they’re not as high-maintenance as you are,” you mutter under your breath, a playful jab that you can’t quite hold back.

he chuckles—a low sound that vibrates through the space between you. it’s the first time you’ve heard him laugh like that—without mockery, without an edge. it’s almost human.

“high-maintenance, huh?” he muses, his tone teasing, but there’s a shift in the air now. “maybe you’ll find that out the hard way.”

the words are playful. you’re not sure what to make of it, but it stirs something in you, something that’s both unsettling and... intriguing.

over the next few weeks, these small moments become more frequent, threading together a fragile tapestry of connection. sukuna’s presence is still overwhelming, but it feels less suffocating now.

he no longer seems entirely distant, nor does he hover with the same oppressive force. instead, he’s there, always watching, always waiting for something unspoken to unfold.

one evening, as you sit alone in the garden again, this time reading a book your family had gifted you, you hear his footsteps before you see him. sukuna doesn’t announce his presence this time.

he simply stands there, watching you with his usual, inscrutable gaze. you feel his eyes on you, and for once, you don’t feel the need to pretend you don’t notice.

“I’m surprised you can read,” he says, his voice a low murmur. there’s no mockery in it, only a genuine comment. “thought you’d be too busy sulking.”

you glance up from your book, meeting his gaze. “I’m not sulking,” you reply, the words more matter-of-fact than before. there’s no need to explain yourself to him anymore.

he steps closer, his presence heavy as always, but this time it doesn’t make you want to shrink away. “what are you reading about?”

“it’s just a story,” you say, closing the book slowly. “something to pass the time.”

“hmm,” he murmurs, his eyes flicking down to the book. “must be a boring story if it’s keeping you this entertained.”

you chuckle lightly. “maybe I just need a distraction from you.”

he doesn’t respond immediately, but there’s a tension in the air, as if the words have just cracked open something between you.

the turning point comes one evening when you receive a letter from home. you’ve been sitting by the window, when you notice the familiar parchment.

aya’s neat handwriting graces the top, and as soon as you read her name, your heart stutters.

you eagerly unfold it, fingers trembling slightly as you begin to read.

her words spill across the page with such love and longing that they cut deep, each line filled with updates about their daily lives, the little things that no longer seem so insignificant to you.

she tells you about hina’s recent antics and how their mother insists on planting a garden in the courtyard, even though the soil remains stubbornly unyielding.

she writes about how your father has been more quiet than usual, always looking out toward the horizon, waiting for the day when his daughters are reunited.

but more than anything, the letter is a reminder of how deeply you are missed, how the absence of your presence has created a space no one can fill.

you can feel the tears welling in your eyes before you realize it. they sting hotly as you read on. the weight of being apart from them—your sisters, your parents—becomes almost unbearable.

you can’t suppress the sobs that rise in your chest, so you quickly wipe them away, desperate to regain some composure.

but you’re too late. the door opens with a soft creak, and you don’t need to turn to know who’s standing there. sukuna’s presence fills the room as it always does.

he pauses, his sharp eyes narrowing in on you. his gaze flicks over your tear-streaked face then down at your hands.

“what’s that?” he asks, his tone surprisingly less abrasive than usual. it’s subtle, but there’s a shift in the way he speaks.

“a letter,” you reply quietly, your voice thick, the emotion still lingering. “from my sisters.”

his eyes linger on you for a moment longer, studying you with an intensity that seems to reach beyond your tears, deeper into the vulnerability you’ve been trying to keep hidden.

he steps forward, closing the distance between you, and before you can react, he takes the parchment from your hands, his fingers brushing yours just slightly as he does so.

you watch him scan the letter, his expression unreadable, as though the words don’t mean anything to him.

but you notice the slight twitch in his brow when he reads aya’s mention of hina’s mischievous behavior and the mention of your father’s quiet gaze.

he hands the letter back after a moment, his face still impassive, but something lingers in his gaze as he meets your eyes.

“they miss you,” he says simply, though his voice is quieter than usual, less detached.

you swallow hard, trying to steady yourself. you nod, the lump in your throat making it hard to speak. “I miss them too.”

for a long moment, neither of you speaks. the room is thick with the weight of unspoken words, the quiet intimacy of the exchange hanging in the air between you.

you wonder if he understands what it means to miss family—what it means to be torn from them, to feel so distant from the people who raised you, loved you.

you wonder if there’s a part of him that understands loneliness, even though he wears it like a badge of honor.

his expression remains unreadable, and for a moment, you think he’s about to leave, to retreat back into the distance that has characterized most of your interactions.

but then, to your surprise, he speaks again, his words low and deliberate.

“you may go visit them,” he says.

your breath catches in your throat, and you stare at him, eyes wide with disbelief. the words don't seem to register at first, not fully, and you find yourself unable to respond immediately. “what?”

his gaze remains steady, unwavering. “you heard me,” he repeats, a touch of impatience creeping into his tone. “you may visit them. if it’s that important to you.”

the shock slowly fades, replaced by confusion and a strange warmth that spreads in your chest.

you’ve always thought of him as a cold, imposing figure—a man who ruled through fear, who demanded respect through power.

but now, in this moment, you realize that he’s offering you something more than you ever expected. something human.

“I... thank you,” you finally manage to say, your voice barely a whisper.

“don’t make me regret it,” he warns, his voice returning to its usual gravelly tone. “I’m not doing this out of kindness. I simply don’t want you moping around here for the next week.”

you nod, the weight of the gesture sinking in, even as his words remain curt.

you don’t know if sukuna truly cares for you, or if this is just another act of power—his way of testing your limits or asserting control over your emotions.

but for now, you can’t help but feel a flicker of something more, a warmth that feels entirely out of place.

“thank you,” you repeat, your voice firmer now, despite the uncertainty that still lingers in your chest.

he grunts in response, turning to leave, but there’s a moment where his eyes meet yours again. and for the first time since you’ve arrived, you don’t see just the ruthless lord in those dark depths.

the journey back to your family’s home is a blur of emotion. the reunion with aya and hina is everything you imagined and more—warmth, laughter, and the comfort of familiar faces.

for the first time in months, you feel like yourself again, surrounded by the people who’ve always known you.

but even as you relish the joy of your visit, something lingers in the back of your mind. sukuna’s words, his unexpected offer to let you go, echo in your thoughts.

the days with your family fly by too quickly, and you can’t help but feel the ache of leaving them again.

aya hugs you tightly before you leave, her words of encouragement like a balm for the unease building in your chest. “you’ll be okay,” she whispers, her arms tightening around you.

when you return to the estate, everything feels oddly unchanged, yet different. the servants carry on as if your absence was nothing more than a passing breeze, and the cold, vast halls are just as you left them.

but sukuna is nowhere to be found—until you’re alone in the courtyard, unloading your things from the carriage.

the familiar sound of footsteps reaches your ears. the air shifts, heavy with his presence before you even see him. then, his shadow falls over you. you don’t need to look up to know it’s him, but you do anyway.

his gaze fixes on you, unreadable, but his lips are curled in that signature smirk. “back already?” he asks, his voice low.

you stand still, setting down the basket you were holding.

his eyes are sharp, studying you, but there’s an underlying softness you weren’t expecting. you nod, keeping your expression neutral. “I couldn’t stay away forever.”

sukuna doesn’t respond immediately, instead stepping closer. his feet crunch against the gravel.

you can’t help but notice how his gaze lingers on you, assessing, like he’s trying to understand something about you that he hadn’t before.

“do you miss them now?” he asks, his tone surprisingly casual.

you hesitate for a moment, feeling the vulnerability of the question. “of course,” you admit, your voice softer than you intended. “but I missed you, too.”

there’s a brief silence, the words hanging in the air between you. you can see the flicker of surprise in his eyes, something momentarily caught off guard by your honesty.

it’s rare that sukuna is disarmed, but somehow, your admission does just that. his lips quirk, but it’s not the mocking smile you’re used to. this one is different, almost amused in a way that doesn’t feel as patronizing.

“did you now?” he murmurs, taking another step toward you. his hand reaches up, and he places a finger under your chin, lifting your face to meet his gaze.

the touch is intimate, but there’s an unspoken weight to it, like it’s a silent acknowledgment of something neither of you are quite ready to voice. his thumb brushes lightly against your skin, the gesture soft but somehow grounding.

“I didn’t think you’d miss me,” he says quietly, his voice a low rumble, softer than usual.

you’re suddenly acutely aware of the space between you, of the way your heart seems to beat a little faster in your chest, of how his presence pulls you in like gravity.

the tension, always so thick and unyielding before, now feels different—softer, but just as real.

your breath catches. “you’re not as bad as they said you are,” you whisper, your voice barely audible.

sukuna’s eyes narrow slightly, and he takes another small step forward, the tension rising again, only this time it feels like a slow burn.

his fingers curl gently under your chin, his thumb stroking your skin as he leans closer, his breath mingling with yours.

“and you,” he murmurs, voice hushed, “are much more than I gave you credit for.”

before you can respond, something shifts between you. the air crackles with an intensity that neither of you can ignore. his lips are so close now, and you don’t think.

you lean in, your mouth brushing against his, tentative at first, like testing the waters of something new, something dangerous.

but then, without warning, sukuna’s hand grips your waist, pulling you into him. the kiss deepens, slow and steady, as though he’s savoring it, taking his time.

his touch is commanding, yet there’s a tenderness to it that surprises you, a carefulness you didn’t expect from someone like him.

when you finally break apart, your breath mingling in the space between you, there’s a quiet understanding in his eyes.

he doesn’t speak immediately. instead, he holds you close, his hand still resting on your back, steady and sure.

“you’re fully mine now, wife.”

taglist: @magenta-cat-drawingss@pompompurin1028@scul-pted@requiem626k@nameless-shrimp@sonder-paradise@jessbeinme15s-notebook @todorokichills @ginneko @missrown @shrynkk @simplyxsinned @beautiful-is-boring @starlostlaiba @izukus-gf @irethepotato @thekaylahub @dazaisbloodybandages @aeanya @sweetcloudsimp @moon-catto @the-midnightskies@pianopuppygirl @gojosblackqueen @kryscent @kunikida-simp @whoami-72 @mx-0-child @fiona782 @kisakitwister @imjustasimpxd @psychopotatomeme @dreamcastgirl99 @watyousayin @doobiebochana @laylasbunbunny @hojicha-expresso @4sat0ruu @nineooooo @chuuyasboots @alekssashka7 @rieejjyubi02 @satoryaa @nothisispatrick300 @fallencrescentmoon @etheviese @ho34gojo @the-mom-friend-dot-com @the-weeping-author

@libbyistired @anon1412@maehemthemisfit @satorustar @b4nka1@sad-darksoul@ko-fi-heart@pumpkindudeishere@suyaaachin@babyqueen17@chaosguy352@murakami-kotone@sukun4ryomen@yumieis@hearts4itoshi@sleepyxxhead@dunixxd@sleepycrybbylaiah @imjustaduckwholikesbread @emilyyyy-08@spacebaby1@arabellatreaty@viscade @washeduphasbeen @janbannan @sugurubabe @enidths @mwtsxri @peppersapro @uranosbaaee @lifeisadumpie @guacam011y @kurooandkenmasslut @callmemirro @your-sleeparalysisdem0n @dindjarins1ut @candy-s72 @lulumi1u

do not copy or plagiarize or I will cry

check out my buy me a coffee!

#jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk imagines #jjk x y/n #jjk sukuna x reader #sukuna x y/n #sukuna x you #sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x you #ryomen x you #ryomen x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna ryomen x reader #sukuna ryomen x you #sukuna ryoumen x reader #sukuna ryoumen x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you

2K notes · View notes

miharuki · 1 month ago

Text

𝖄𝖆𝖓𝖉𝖊𝖗𝖊 𝖁𝖎𝖑𝖑𝖆𝖎𝖓 𝕻𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖈𝖊 𝖃 𝕽𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖗 (𝕱𝖊𝖒) 3

Offical theme nomura

A butler hurried through the vast mansion, carrying the morning’s correspondence for his masters. Arriving at the head of the household’s study, he stopped, straightened his attire, and composed himself professionally before knocking on the door.

“Come in,” came the voice of an older man from within. Entering as instructed, the butler held out the stack of letters that had arrived that morning. He stopped before the desk and lifted the pile. “Sir, your correspondence has arrived. However, there is one letter in particular that I believe may interest you.” The lord of the house took the pile of letters and leafed through them, reading the names of each sender, until he came upon a blue envelope with golden accents. His gaze dropped to the golden handwriting on it: Nomura L. Néantazur.

“Call (Mother’s Name) immediately,” he ordered. The butler bowed and left the study. “What could that demon possibly want this time?” he muttered under his breath.

“Why would he send us a letter like this?” asked the woman, standing beside her husband and fanning herself in distress.

“I don’t know,” he replied, disdain evident in his voice. “I’d bet it’s about that brat again.” The man sneered before taking a letter opener and carefully slicing open the cyan envelope. As he read the elegantly penned words, spelling out Nomura’s intent with the utmost formality, his wife couldn’t contain herself.

“He wants what?!” she shrieked, collapsing into the chair in front of her husband, hand on her forehead in despair.

“To think that little disgrace could catch his attention,” the man muttered, setting the letter down and glancing out the window at a small house hidden within the gardens, far from the main mansion.

“It wasn’t enough to keep her on our property? We had to apologize to the royal family, and now that wretched girl brings even more trouble upon us? How could I have given birth to someone like her?” The man stood, stepping over to his wife, who had her face in her hands, and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Calm down, dear; she’s not a problem to us… for now.”

Naturally, upon arriving home, her parents had been disappointed—if not more than that.

“So, what do we do now?” the woman asked, dramatically sobbing, while her husband smiled beside her.

“We’ll simply say that the letter never reached us. There’s no way we’re allying with that blue devil.”

“Yes, exactly. Well thought out.” They exchanged smiles, pleased with their scheme.

What they hadn’t anticipated, however, was that just a week later, an elegant carriage in dark tones with a blue gleam would arrive on their estate. The man who stepped out wore costly shoes and elegant attire, his guards surrounding him as he made his way to the door and knocked firmly. After a few seconds, the maid opened the door and, shocked by the visitor, dropped the feather duster she was holding.

With a sweet smile concealing something darker, he looked at her and said, “Will you allow us to enter and summon your masters?”

The maid quickly stepped aside, opening the door further, allowing the young man and his guards to enter. The butler, who had been watching from a distance, hurried over to join them.

“A-ah, my apologies! Please, follow me to the parlor.” The butler passed by the maid, tugging on her sleeve as he whispered urgently, “What are you waiting for? Go fetch them!”

The butler led the way to the sitting room, allowing the young man to take a seat before bowing. Soon, another maid appeared, pushing a cart and setting down a tray with a fine teapot and matching cups. She poured tea for the young man, who accepted it with a smile and took a sip.

The door opened shortly after, revealing the master and mistress of the house. The man’s expression initially showed shock before he cleared his throat and regained his composure. Behind him stood his wife, partially hiding her face behind her fan. They both took seats on the sofa opposite the visitor.

“Your Highness! To what do we owe this visit?”

“Well, it seems you haven’t received my letter, seeing as I received no response,” Nomura noted, setting his teacup on its saucer before looking up at them. The man exchanged a nervous glance with his wife before chuckling awkwardly.

“Yes, yes… no letter here. I mean, you know how postal services are these days, eh? Ha… ha…”

“Very well,” Nomura replied, his tone cool as he leaned back slightly. “I am here to propose a business arrangement. A mutually beneficial one for both of us.”

pt1. Pt2

"I'll possibly do Part 4:)

Should I make a smut? Or do you not like that? I think I might turn it into a series. But seriously, Nomura is officially a profile character now.

@aiimee9 @chlov @uhkaey @notleclerc @taylorazureeee @sassykitkat22 @zuumaa @mononlogue @party-9 @endaculi @heartless-tate @mel-vaz @poptrim @kitty-chan33 @surprisemodafakas @reni502 @slowlysweetnightmare @hotnbloodied @yandereoverlord @mel-star636 @aphrodit333 @hotvinimon @cupidsgift @bien-bonjour14 @l0v3rrl @heraxochi @yamekocatt @lovorette @acenby-weirdo @kisalovesoobin @wutap @ron000 @lazydelusionsimp @kthehoeforfictionalmen @forbidden-sunlight @bubbles2416 @rosegracewood09 @b2mmyy

@julietdelamare @snowlotr @kitkatmochi @happydeertraveler @lem-hhn @crazytacokoala @mitzukichan18 @hey-im-bored504 @resident-cryptid @thefbiiswatching @beardedblizzardexpert @mymemd @smilefortae @emperatris-rinaka @sugarcookie11

@marise-eternal @smilefortae @happydeertraveler @keepghostly @lovelygenerousdream @illytian @beardedblizzardexpert @kpoplover2013 @aiimee9 @forbidden-sunlight @angelofdarkness2 @undecidingfate @queenmimis @princessloveweird @angstylittleb1tch @kyoko-neko @marvelsgirl4ever @kitty-chan33 @txtbeomi @reni502 @bookwormgamerweeb @hillaryary @lxvcia @sell-e @meowmeeps @rains-mae @dragongirl642 @baileebear @bramblelux @acequeenbee @pixiu0 @defnotlucienvanserra @sirenetheblogger @mspurpl3 @00hellohello00 @husbadosandfics @mapleeereads @saniecho @chinxinsomnia @laskamilkney @astylos @astylos @any-n-everything @lukasrightthigh @kyokiveil @iamapotatoe @ayame0ice @kel142 @xu8hao @msluccapotato @whattheheii @noshitmyfriend

539 notes · View notes

luvsupa · 7 months ago

Text

YOURE IN LOVE WITH PRINCE GOJO?

tags: fem!reader x prince! gojo satoru, childhood enemies to almost lovers to enemies (☹️), bully!gojo, love (ish)-hate relationship, gojos so confusing, ANGST, royalty, lots of tension, smut-ish (intense kissing), family dinner ruined, ayana is a bully, reader cries, soft gojo at the end. mdni.

w.c: 3.5k (woa)

a/n: thank you all so much for almost hitting 100 followers! tytyty for all the support too ! 🩵

read part 1 here! + likes and reblogs are very appreciative 🩵

part 3 here!

for the rest of the night, gojo zoned out of every conversation as you occupied his mind. he couldn’t find the will to enjoy the event, your words haunting him relentlessly. i'll see you inside, prince gojo.

he had dreaded this feeling since childhood, after overhearing that fateful conversation between your families. gojo had always masked his emotions, distracting himself from the pain by giving you the cold shoulder. but in reality, he was desperate to be near you.

“ruru? are you unwell? you don’t look so good,” ayana asked, her voice tinged with concern, snapping him out of his thoughts.

“i am well, just nervous about the big crowd,” gojo lied, his voice strained as he fiddled with the cuff of his sleeve. “enough of worrying,” he added, scanning the room, only to find his mother and yours conspicuously absent. shit, he thought, his anxiety mounting.

“baby, i’ll be right back. i think i’m missing a family discussion,” gojo said, pecking her on the lips before rushing out of the ballroom, his heart pounding in his chest.

gojo's heavy footsteps echoed ominously down the long hallway, his urgency concerning, causing guards and servants to glance at him. he burst through the double doors of the drawing room, startling his and your mother, who were sitting opposite each other on blue velvet couches.

“'toru! you should be with the others,” his mother said, her eyes scanning him for any signs of distress.

“what were you just discussing?” he demanded, his voice barely controlled, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. the two women exchanged uneasy glances, sensing his agitation.

“dearest, this conversation is really between me and your mother,” your mother said, trying to calm gojo as his glare grew more intense, his jaw tightening.

“then include me,” he said, stepping closer, his presence menacing. “you are in my estate, a guest in my home. you will include me in this conversation, or you will leave immediately,” he commanded, his voice dripping with authority, as if speaking to a mere commoner.

“satoru!” the queen exclaimed, standing abruptly, shocked by his audacity.

“very well. we have found a nobleman worthy enough to marry my daughter. we were discussing when they should meet,” your mother revealed, her voice steady but cautious.

his heart sank at her words. “that's why you all came as a family? to marry her off? all the times you visited were simply to find her someone to wed?” his voice rose, trembling with barely suppressed rage as he pieced together the painful puzzle. his mother scolded him for his behavior, but he continued, “I do not approve.”

“satoru, no disrespect, but you have no say in this! she has already reached adulthood; being married is a priority!” your mother said calmly, her words striking him like a physical blow. gojo stormed out of the room, the same despair from his youth crashing over him. the memory of overhearing your parents arranging your marriage had tormented him for years, but now, knowing the deal was sealed, the helplessness was unbearable.

he stormed off in the opposite direction from the ballroom, his steps quickening as he ascended the stairs to where the bedrooms were located. breathless, he found himself standing at your door, hand mid-air about to knock. his heart ached, praying you would open the door and tell him you weren’t going through with the marriage.

gojo clenched his fist, lowering it to his side, his fingers twitching with frustration, a deep sense of powerlessness washing over him.

⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . *

“good morning, dear. did you sleep well?” gojo’s mother asked as he entered the breakfast room, ignoring her greeting. your mother and the queen were seated at the end of the table, with you sitting across from ayana. the empty chair beside her was likely where gojo would sit.

his breakfast was already plated, and he made his way to the chair beside ayana, who looked excited to see him. the room was filled with an almost unbearable silence, broken only by the scraping of forks and knives against plates.

“the ball was very beautiful, mrs. gojo,” you said, attempting to break the tension. “I had forgotten how much I enjoy attending your events.” you smiled warmly at the queen, feeling gojo’s eyes on you.

“ah, thank you, dear. It’s nice to know someone enjoyed it more than others,” she replied, her words carrying an edge you couldn’t quite grasp.

“I also enjoyed it, mrs. gojo!” ayana chimed in, trying to outdo you. “I especially loved the orchestra and ruru’s welcome speech,” she continued, wrapping her arm possessively around gojo’s. the queen thanked ayana for her kind words, but the tension in the room still remained.

“I have to ask, where have father and the king gone? I’ve barely seen them around the estate,” you said, trying to sound casual but failing miserably. the queen immediately made eye contact with your mother, and gojo seemed to catch on.

“they are discussing an important upcoming event with other parties,” your mother said, her voice tight.

“what event?” gojo quickly intervened, his tone demanding, drawing all eyes to him.

“a royal event,” the queen said through gritted teeth, clearly trying to keep her composure.

“hmm, a royal event for whom? If her father is part of the discussion, she should also be aware, right, mother?” gojo challenged, taking a bite of his food. the room felt like it was shrinking, the awkwardness growing. You felt completely out of place. what is his problem?

“satoru, you are asking too many questions for your own good! It’s too early to be this curious,” the queen snapped, her voice unusually harsh. you were shocked; she hadn’t addressed gojo with the usual nickname ‘toru. had they gotten into an argument?

you glanced around the room, noticing ayana poking at her food, clearly uncomfortable. the silence that followed was excruciating, the tension so thick you could cut it with a knife.

with that, gojo stood up abruptly and left the room, his shoes clacking loudly against the hardwood floor, leaving all the women in stunned silence to finish their breakfast.

⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . *

time has passed since the awkward breakfast you had in the morning, and you wish you hadn’t brought up your concerns about your father’s whereabouts. you had no intention of causing any arguments, and rethinking what had happened makes you cringe. sitting in the drawing room, writing in your journal is the only thing that gives you peace.

just as you start to enjoy your silence, you hear laughter and footsteps approaching the doors to your quiet space. damnit. the double doors open, revealing gojo and ayana giggling together, her arm wrapped around his.

“oh! we didn’t think anyone was in here..” ayana says in a fake tone. you stare at them in utter annoyance, feeling like you can’t find any time alone. “you wouldn’t mind if we joined you! you look pretty lonely here,” she says, walking closer to the royal blue couches. you close your journal as they make themselves comfortable.

“what are you writing in there? ways you can seduce me?” gojo says, walking closer to you. you stare at him in shock from the wild accusation, made worse by ayana’s obnoxious laugh as if it were the funniest joke. catching you off guard, ayana snatches your journal from your hand, your reflexes too late to stop her. she hands it to gojo for him to read.

“ruru, maybe you can find another confession of her undying love for you,” she says. you attempt to grab your journal back, but gojo holds it above your head. fuck!

you’re practically chasing the two of them around the room as he flips through pages, looking for something to embarrass you. you repeatedly ask for it back. “ooo, this is interesting, titled, ‘forbidden love,’” gojo says as they both burst out in laughter. he begins to read your personal words. you quickly reach up, grabbing one end of the book as he grips the other.

“let go, prince gojo,” you warn. he fake pouts, “we’re not on a first-name basis? alright, my lady,” he taunts, your blood boiling in anger.

without thinking, you raise your hand and slap him hard across the face. ouch!

the laughter comes to a complete stop as he stares at you in shock, releasing his grip on your book, causing you to grab it back- hold it tightly against your chest. “you bitch! how dare you slap the prince!” ayana exclaims, attempting to claw at you, but gojo holds her back, his cheek turning red from the slap.

“I don’t know what sick and evil games you like to play, but I will not be the one you two toy with,” you declare, your voice steady despite the anger coursing through you. with a firm grip on your belongings, you turn on your heel and stride towards the door, making your way to another quiet place.

—-

your entire stay at the gojo estate feels like a horror house. day by day, you are taunted by both gojo and ayana, their relentless torment threatening to break you.

just after your altercation in the drawing room, you receive a letter informing you there will be a family dinner, with the king and your father in attendance. as you prepare, making sure your gown is perfect in the mirror, you hear a quiet knock at your door. expecting your mother, you open it to find gojo standing there.

“look who decided to finally show some effort,” he drawls, eyes scanning your attire. “trying to impress someone?”

your irritation flares, cheeks flushing with annoyance. “what do you want, gojo? here to read more of my journal?” he straightens up, entering your room without invitation.

“mmh, as much as i would love to, your mother sent me. apparently, you need some jewelry your father gave you,” he remarks, amusement dancing in his eyes. “or maybe she thought you’d need help with getting dressed.”

you cross your arms, defiant. “i don’t need your help with anything.” he smirks, stepping closer. “such a shame, but i’m here. why not make use of me?” your heart races as you snatch the jewelry box from his hands. before you can open it, his grip tightens on your wrist, sending a jolt of electricity through you. “now, now,” he murmurs, “let me.”

you attempt to pull away, but he holds firm. “i can manage on my own,” you grit out. ignoring your protest, he takes the box from you entirely.

“turn around,” he commands softly. you comply, facing the mirror. he steps closer, his breath ghosting over your neck, sending shivers down your spine. you’re watching his every move as he delicately removes the necklace from its case, the glint of jewels catching the light.

“hold still,” he murmurs, his voice low and intimate. you obey, your breath catching in your throat as his presence is overwhelming. he drapes the necklace around your neck, his touch gentle yet electrifying.

as he fastens the clasp, his fingers linger on your skin, sending a rush of heat through your veins. you feel him staring at you through the mirror, intense and probing, as if daring you to resist him. through the reflection in the mirror, you meet his eyes, a silent battle of wills passing between you.

“there,” he murmurs, his voice sending a shiver down your spine. “perfect.”

the air crackles with tension as neither of you moves, locked in a silent dance of desire and defiance. you can feel the heat of his breath against your skin, his presence engulfing you entirely. every nerve in your body is on edge, anticipation coursing through your veins as you struggle to maintain your composure.

“you know,” he whispers, his voice a seductive murmur in your ear, “seeing you like this… so obedient for once. I wonder what else I can make you do.” his words send a jolt of heat straight to your core, igniting a fire within you that you struggle to contain.

before you can respond, you feel his lips press softly on the sensitive base of your neck, a soft caress that sends a wave of desire crashing over you. a gasp escapes your lips as you crave his touch.

you tilted your neck instinctively, inviting more of his attention, despite your attempts to maintain composure. a soft whimper escaped you, as he smirked against your skin. the room seemed to shrink around you, the tension between you and gojo intensified. every nerve of your body was on edge as you struggled to control your emotions.

in a bold move, your hand reaches back, fingers tangling in the soft strands of his hair. and at that, he whines at the grip you had on his hair. as your intense gaze continues through the mirror and him kissing you, everything hits you. what are you doing? this is gojo- the man you hate, the one who invaded your privacy, the one who made your life miserable. with a sudden clarity, you pulled away, turning around and moving back to create a distance between you two as you look at his flushed cheeks.

“mm- you looked like you enjoyed yourself sweetheart, especially for someone who claims they hate me,” he teased. you scoff, trying to regain your composure. “this can never happen again.” you sternly say. he chuckled softly as he looks down at you, “you don’t seem too sure,” he taunts.

“you’re unbelievable,” you confront, making his brows rise in curiosity. “one day you torment me and make me feel like shit, and the next you want to kiss me!” you nearly shout. he stares into your eyes as you’re so desperately trying to find some answers for the way he acts.

“I’ll see you downstairs,” he says, ignoring your distress as he walks out of your room, making you even more mad and confused. what the hell is wrong with him today?

⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . *

as you make your way towards the dining room, your eyes catch sight of your father in the hallway, and quickly to catch up with him, giving him in a warm hug. “I've missed you, father! thank you for this beautiful necklace,” you express, gesturing towards the shimmering diamond pendant.

"dearest, while the necklace looks stunning on you, I'm afraid I did not gift it to you," your father gently remarks, his words sending a pang of confusion through you. If my father didn’t gift me the necklace, then does that mean—

“the food is being served,” gojo's interruption jolts you out of your thoughts as you slowly turn towards him. your father strides towards the doors leading into the dining room, leaving you standing there, trying to piece together the puzzle before you.

did gojo gift me the necklace and then falsely claim my father gave it to me? Is this part of some twisted game to kiss me? suddenly, a hand on your back startles you, and you jump, your mind racing with unanswered questions.

"apologies, honey, I didn’t mean to startle you. are you not joining us inside?" your mother's voice soothes your confusion.

"mother... did you send gojo to my room earlier with this necklace?" you slowly question, fingers grazing the shimmering diamond adorning your neck.

"no, dear. I was busy with my own preparations. but let's not keep everyone waiting. we should head inside; we might be running late," she responds, gently guiding you into the grand dining room. he gifted me the necklace.

you and your mother both enter the shiny dining hall, the sparkling ambiance surrounding everyone. your father and the king occupy seats at opposite ends, with their wives seated adjacent to them. you find yourself directly in front of the queen, with gojo and ayana beside, as always.

as the food is served to each of us individually, the room fills with the lively chatter of the adults. amidst the chatter, the queen’s voice breaks through as she calls your name, capturing the attention of everyone present.

“have you considered marriage now that you've reached adulthood?” she inquires, putting you in a delicate position as all eyes turn to you, much like last time.

“not recently. I find comfort in the fact that my friends aren't married either, so I see no rush,” you respond, hearing an awkward chuckle from your mother and seeing concerned glances from the king and queen. It's another awkward moment, just great.

“are you lonely because your fantasies with satoru were crushed when you were rejected?” ayana’s words slice through the air like a knife, her smirk dripping with venom. you choke on your food, the room falling into a stunned silence as all eyes fixate on you, hungry for answers.

“Is this true?” your mother’s voice cuts through the tension, her tone heavy with disappointment. mentally cursing ayana for thrusting you into this predicament over a mere childhood crush, you struggle to find your voice amidst the mounting pressure.

“mother, I-it was simply a childhood crush-“

“then what are these sinful fantasies you’ve written in your journal?” she interjects, her words igniting the already heated atmosphere. your throat tightens as you meet the shocked gazes of those around you, a lump forming as you grapple for an explanation.

“that’s— that’s not true, ayana,” you manage to utter. but just as the situation couldn’t worsen, Ayana brings up a fake torn page. from my journal? no. my pages do not look worn out.

In the midst of the chaos, gojo’s expression mirrors your shock, his eyes widening in concern as he looks at you, his usual confidence momentarily faltering.

"just look at the disgusting things she wrote about satoru, my partner... shame on her," ayana spits out with a mock pout, giving the forged paper into your mother's hands. why is she setting me up?

tears run down your cheeks, your heart pounding in your chest as your mother's eyes bore into you with utter disgust and disappointment.

"enough, ayana," gojo's deep voice says, his eyes flashing with a mixture of anger and concern as he watches the scene unravel. but ayana ignores his warning.

you're paralyzed by a whirlwind of emotions, fear and frustration gripping you as you struggle to defend yourself against the false accusations.

"honestly, it's disgraceful. a whore, if you ask me, but who am I to—"

"I said enough, ayana!" gojo's voice booms through the room, the force of his words sending shockwaves through your family dinner. with a clenched jaw, he slams his fist down on the table, the sound echoing in the silence as he rises abruptly, his chair crashing to the ground behind him.

"r-ruru? I was just—" ayana's voice trembles, but gojo's fury cuts through her excuse.

"get the fuck out!" He angrily yells, as tears are forming in her eyes as she ignores him, remaining seated.

with a frustrated tsk, gojo strides across the room, his steps purposeful as he harshly grabs your arm, pulling you away from the torment. shock courses through you, your humiliation fresh and raw in front of your family.

gojo's grip on your hand is tight as you numbly follow him, your mind clouded with pain and disbelief. silent sobs leave your body as he leads you away, his own heart heavy with guilt at seeing you broken, especially because of him.

eventually, you arrive at a grand double doors with gold initials, “G.S,” engraved into the white-painted wood. as the doors swing open, you step into his ginormous chamber.

he strides across the room, his steps echoing against the polished marble floors, before crouching down to scoop you up in his arms. with effortless strength, he carries you in a bridal embrace, placing you gently onto the comfort of his king-sized bed.

as you sink into the softness, drained and defeated, he lowers himself to meet your gaze, his hand tenderly caressing your tear-stained face.

“my baby,” he softly coos, his voice laced with concern as he gazes upon you in your current state, hating to see you so broken.

“‘toru,” you whisper the nickname he despises, not to make him upset, but he just smiles.

“I hate you,” you choke out between sobs, tears streaming down your face. yet, he wipes them away gently, nodding in silent understanding.

“why do you do this to me? why do you despise me so much?” your words are muffled as you struggle to formulate words.

he takes a deep breath, wanting to tell you everything, how he’s feeling- how The very idea of you being with another man feels like a dagger piercing his heart.

“I cannot tell you yet. but one day, I promise,” he whispers, cradling your face tenderly in his hands before pressing a gentle kiss to your trembling pout.

“sleep here tonight. I’ll resolve everything,” he reassures you, his voice filled with determination and love.

you nod in understanding as he leaves you alone in his dimly lit room as your slowly doze off into slumber, hearing the chaos erupting downstairs.

part 3 here!

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen angst #gojo angst #gojo x reader #gojou satoru x reader #jjk smut #gojo satoru #gojo smut #jjk x y/n #jjk fanfic #jjk gojo #satoru gojo #jjk fluff #gojo fluff

903 notes · View notes

lyrefromthesea · 5 months ago

Note

Hear me out... The hashira rival lover thing.. What if we don't get the chance/they don't get the chance to confess because we die??? 🦅🦅(I'm a sucker for angst)

Male hashira x Reader - Lost Chances

author's note: the hospital doesn't want me anymore, i'm finally back home.

pairing: Tengen x reader x Obanai, Rengoku x reader x Gyomei, Sanemi x reader x Giyuu

content warning: angst, death, descriptions of blood

Tengen and Obanai:

a month had passed since your death. neither of them had seen it coming, nor had they ever received the chance to safe you.

you left for a solo mission back then, promising them to return victorious, and while you did kill the demon in the end, you suffered from a major injury and died the same night.

your death had spread despair and sadness throughout the whole demon slayer corps, but it left the hardest impact on them.

while Tengen grieved over your death, he tried to continue his everydayness. it wasn't for his sake, but for you and the people around him.

Tengen knew you would've wanted him to continue living normally, it was one of the things that made him not only admire but also love you.

he didn't want to hurt his wives either, they didn't deserve to get caught up in his despair.

so while he wished that it would've been him, he tried to keep those thoughts hidden inside his very being, locked away where no one would find them.

Obanai, on the other hand, could not swallow his grief down like Tengen did. he had loved you with all his heart and he felt it break with the message of your death.

despite both of them suffering through the same pain, Obanai didn't have anyone waiting at home, no one too soothe his overactive mind. it was one of the reasons he didn't like to return to his estate.

his eyes were trained on the stone which had your name engraved in it, placing a fresh bouquet of flowers next to it. it wasn't the only one, he knew Tengen would visit you once a week, though they never ran into each other.

not until today.

"come, my wives had offered to invite you over." the hand on Obanai's shoulder felt different than their usual encounters. he had expected Tengen to leave a new bouquet on your grave, maybe a prayer too, and leave again.

despite Obanai's wish to remain alone and the dislike of meeting new people - especially women - he agreed this time.

and when he entered the Uzui family estate, he was surprised by the lively atmosphere and the welcoming smell of warm food.

he was quiet throughout their time eating together, at least most of the time, but he still found himself being comforted by his new surroundings.

Uzui's wives looked happy.

the thought kept repeating in his mind, wondering if you'd enjoyed this as much as they did now. he wondered if life would've been different if he had confessed to you - married you.

maybe you'd have stepped back. there would've been no harm in watching you give up your title and enjoy life.

and while the image of your life as a happy person, greeting him back home and cheerfully talking about your day, consumed his mind, he looked at Tengen.

seeing the other man's eyes soften, a twinge of hidden sadness in them, as he looked at his wives, he knew that Tengen must've imagined the same before too.

in the end, neither of them had been fast enough to hold out their saving hand.

Rengoku and Gyomei:

"take [name] with you and get to the butterfly mansion!" Kyojuro screamed, gripping his sword harder and running after the demon the three of you had fought for a while.

truthfully, people would've expected this mission to be finished without a problem, a team of tree hashira should be undefeatable.

and perhaps that would've been the case for most demons, but not for this one. whoever she was, she was a trickster out of the book, saving herself with movements you've never seen before. you quickly realized her weakness, seeing that she couldn't use her blood demon art without breaks that seemingly grew bigger. in a state of increasing distress and tiredness you shouted for the others to power her out, not expecting her next attack.

the sharp object penetrating your back, soon piercing through your front, didn't nearly hurt as much as Rengoku's expression.

"follow the plan, tire her out!" Gyomei shouted one last time, carrying your body towards the butterfly mansion. he hoped Rengoku had heard him, legs carrying him as fast as possible.

he could feel thick globs of blood escape your wound, staining his hands in a demon's wine. not much more and you'd be dead.

Rengoku, on the other hand, fought with all his might. he didn't fight for his life, he fought with the pain of knowing what this demon had done to you. after increasingly weaker attacks were thrown at him, he finally found a gap and beheaded the demon.

yet he couldn't breathe out in victory.

he turned on his heels, sprinting towards the butterfly mansion. he knew that Gyomei was faster and stronger than him, hoping that you had arrived in time.

all his hope died the second he saw your lifeless body in an infirmary bed, the giant man, who brought you here, sitting by your side.

"i didn't make it." he admitted, voice a whisper, throat running dry. the smell of your blood reminded him of days that had long passed.

Rengoku felt his own throat tighten, quietly closing the door to your room. grief was slowly climbing up his body, threatening to pull him down. even worse, he saw the same feeling behind Gyomei's eyes.

thick tears were staining the giant's face, too focused on your body to notice Rengoku stepping closer. a warm hand placed itself on Gyomei's shoulder.

"don't lower your head, comrade. [name], too, would've wanted us to set our hearts ablaze." the words that left Rengoku's mind had been heard by the male a million times already, but any trace of happiness was gone this time.

Gyomei nodded, not saying another word, not even when he heard the other male desperately try to hold back his own sobs.

Sanemi and Giyuu:

it hadn't taken more than a second - a mere second that left everyone breathless. the uppermoon you've fought wasn't that strong, not that smart, but incredibly fast. so even with three hashira, it was a huge gamble to take him on.

Sanemi was unluckily hit by the demon's attacks, throwing him over half the forest. and while he managed to land safely, it would take him some time to return to Giyuu and you.

"Sanemi!" you screamed, your eyes following him in worry, only to hear him scream back that you should pay attention.

his warning came too late, the demon lunged at you before you even got to turn around.

trying to safe your team from any more harm, Giyuu went after the demon, sword swiftly cutting through his neck. yet the sound that reached his ears with his attack was too other - too different - to be from his sword.

the demon crumbled to dust in a matter of seconds, leaving Giyuu panting. his eyes widened when you came into his line of sight again, but something felt wrong.

you weren't moving, his eyes wandering over your body until they stopped at your torso. he barely managed to land on his knees and catch you before you hit the ground.

the demon wasn't strong, but it was still strong enough to leave a whole in your side in his dying moments.

"[name]!" Giyuu felt his throat dry up, his hands starting to shake like never before. this wasn't happening. right?

"Gi.. yuu.." he wasn't used to seeing your eyes so empty, so devoid of life. you barely managed to say his name before blood spluttered out of your mouth, running down your lips.

"[name], stay alive! ..stay alive!" he didn't know when he last felt this helpless, but his legs wouldn't move. the butterfly mansion was too far away, no help was in sight. he didn't know where he should bring you.

your breathing.

it had stopped not even a minute after you've got hurt, the light having left your eyes for good. Giyuu felt his body tense, not able to move anymore. his hands were full of your blood, he could feel the crimson liquid leaking down his fingers.

the silence was broken by a guttural scream, another person running out of the forest. Sanemi's white hair was a stark contrast to the night's darkness, wind rushing through it as he ran to your lifeless body.

"[NAME]!" he fell to his knees next to you, first wanting to hold you close to his body, then pulling his hands away, too afraid to hold your fragile form. he was consumed in his panic, the sight of your corpse.

the next minutes were filled by screams and cries, Sanemi's agony soon making Giyuu quietly cry as well.

they only stopped when no more tears were left, no more screams to give. and after Sanemi has calmed down, thoughts began to fill his mind.

i should've been faster. I should've been stronger. if i had just been there a bit earlier-

he went quiet, his hands gently taking your body out of Giyuu 's hold and standing up. you deserved a grave, he couldn't leave your body here.

before he turned around to retreat, his dead eyes wandered to Giyuu, looking at him with unspoken malice. "you should've protected [name]."

no more words were said between the two males, Sanemi leaving the forest with your body in his hands, while Giyuu suffered through another breakdown, trying to drag his body back to his estate.

he wouldn't be able to see your face another time, not in this life. Sanemi was right, he failed to protect someone he loved. again.

if only he knew that Sanemi felt the same guilt swell in his chest, desperately trying to hold his cries in.

586 notes · View notes

space-blue · 20 days ago

Text

A complete guide to Blue Daddy's Girl (my) Arcane fics

Multi-chapter

Fathers and Daughters (My big hit)

Alternate AU set after S01E03, where Silco adopts both Vi and Powder. Large ensemble cast, multiple POVs, but mostly Vi.

100k words. Completed. Fanart chapters and art comms.

While the World Turns Around

Silco/Vander post betrayal reconciliation AU. Set before the show. POV Vander.

5.2k words. Completed. Entire chapter of gifted fanart at the end.

Our Love, That Flows Into the Sea is the same fic but from the POV of Silco. Unfinished WIP I don't plan on continuing.

The Shimmer Baron’s Family

Silco/Vander Regency AU. Estranged family, set during a ball at the Medarda estate.

10k words. Unfinished. No plans to finish it, stop asking lol or else make a serious request via my ko-fi.

A Stray

4.7k. Set in the "good verse". Silco and Vander adopt Viktor. One shot converted to WIP, has fanart.

Whatever I do, this is where we end

A dark Silco time loop, but told from the POV of Vander, who gets reset every time unknowingly. Strong themes of violence, suicide, despair and smut. Read the tags.

7.7k words. Completed. No fanart.

Cursed, by a brush of your hand

Silco/Vander soulmate AU where the soulmark is framed as a potential life ending curse. Aroace Silco, BFF with Renata Glasc. Basically an aroace perspective on soulmates.

7k words. Completed. No fanart.

What I wouldn’t do for you

Silco & Vander role swap. Silco adopts the kids and runs the Last Drop.

5.2k words. Completed. Open ending. No fanart.

The Darkin Child

Viktor, Singed and Silco are vampire-adjacent monsters, Vander is a werewolf. Married zaundads with Viktor returning to Zaun in hiding.

4.3k words. Unfinished, no plans to finish it.

The Centaur Breaker

Silly centaur AU with Silco as a rancher in a fantasy world (not a US Far West setting), rescuing captured centaurs. Vander, Sevika, Jinx & Vi as centaurs.

2.8k words. Unfinished. Only a single chapter and no plans to continue.

☆ Arcane Art Dump

The home of all my Arcane fanarts worth saving.

One Shots

Those are sorted by kudos, from the most popular down to least.

Pretty Blue Puffs of Arcane Smoke

829 words. Silco and Powder discuss getting tattoos. Set in the Fathers and Daughters AU.

Worries, and ways to dispel them & Explosions, and their fallout

5k words total. Silco x Reader two parter, written in the week before season 1's finale. 2nd person gender neutral reader without body description.

Lost Child

3.7k words. Pirate Silco is back in Zaun and trying to avoid Vander. He runs into a lost child called "Cait" at Bridgewaltz market.

The Monster Within & The Monster Without

1.3k words for Monster Within. Post-betrayal Silco recovers and cuts his hair. Based on a fanart by @/Wish. 1.6k words for Monster Without. Set at the same time, but Vander POV as he deals with emotional turmoil after attacking Silco (probably my favourite one shot to this day).

Adoption

1.8k words. Vander and Silco are still brothers. They discuss adopting the girls in this no-betrayal AU.

Beer And Bribery

2k words. Vi & Sevika. Set in the Fathers and Daughters AU. Vi asks Sevika for help picking a present for Silco. Written for the Arcane parenting week event.

Let Me Try

4.3k words. Newest on the list! Arcane season 2 finale fix it. Timebomb... Ekko walks away from the final battle in a daze after learning that Jinx is dead. She isn't, no matter what Vi may believe.

Not Dead Yet & A Friend In Need

3k words total. Jinx finds a dead body in Zaun, but Viktor isn’t quite dead yet. Jinx & Viktor, written prior to season 2 for Sicktember.

Without Questions

627 words. Written for a fanart that is currently down, but hopefully I'll fix it soon. Young Zaundads fluff. Vander doesn’t understand what Silco sees in him, but he’s not willing to question it.

Gun Nerds Of All Nations

3k words. Set in a similar AU to F&D but not actually. Powder & young Caitlyn bond at a fair's shooting competition. Written for the Arcane Parenting Week.

Memories of Sweetness

2k words. Set in the Fathers and Daughters AU. Silco discovers that a staple food of his youth, long thought to have disappeared from Zaun, is back on the streets. He has to share this with Powder and Vi, both born too late to have ever tried it.

No Favourite

1.2k words. Vander claims he doesn't have a favourite among his kids, but they don't see it that way. Written for the Arcane Parenting Week.

Hard Truths

3k words. Ren (Marcus' daughter) tries to find to meaning to her father’s death and ends up meeting Jinx in Zaun.

Blame

830 words. Jinx POV heavy angst. Jinx talks to Silco after his death, until Sevika comes to find her. Written for the Arcane Parenting Week.

A Lesson In Silence

3k words. Set in the Fathers and Daughters AU. Mek (now known as Gustove) takes Powder on a spying mission. Written for the Arcane Parenting Week.

Last Chance

1.3k words. Past Silco/Vander. Missing scene in the cannery, a private conversation between them. Generally bitter sweet and canon compliant.

Son of Zaun

2k words. One day, Silco's mother took him up-top, to see the sky, the sun, and the people who live above them all.

Sepia Smile

732 words. The photograph is faded, its sepia tones keeping the colour of the man's eyes a secret. Vi stares at it for a long time, perplexed. She doesn't understand what Vander saw in him. Written for the Arcane Parenting Week.

A Terrible Gamble

2.3k words. Jinx (and Silco whispering in her mind) set off to rescue Vander from Singed’s lab after the events of season 2.

On Your Head

2.5k words. Alternate retelling of Mel and the young princess' of her memories. In the Princess' POV.

Drunken Dreams

Comic fanart. Jinx brings a drunk Vi home.

Just a cough & Dramatics

685 words for Just a cough. The moment Silco wakes up with a sore throat, he knows he's in trouble with Vander. Written for Sictember. 1k words for Dramatics. Vander sickfic to match.

A Fresh Start

1.9k words. Second person POV where you are brought to a recovering Silco in secret, and give him a haircut and much needed comfort. Gen fic.

Eat You Alive

604 words. Dark!Vi kills Caitlyn as soon as they enter the Lanes.

Maintenance

1.6k words. Explicit. A smutty Mek/Marcus with power dynamics in Silco’s office.

A Haunting

754 words. Heavy angst Vander & Silco meet shortly after the betrayal.

A Touch of Memory

2.2k words. A self-indulgent Star Wars crossover set in the Old Republic with Sith Silco, Jinx and Sevika and Mandalorian Vander. Has links to fanart.

In the Jaws of the Fox

247 words. Mel/Jayce. Mel contemplates the man sprawled in her bed, sleeping insouciantly.

Who Saves The Boy Saviour?

1.3k words. Dark fic!! Jinx captures Ekko post season 1 finale and straps him to the chair Silco used on Vander. Timebomb.

Ragdoll

766 words. A look into young Silco and Vander's budding relationship. It's complicated. With art, made for the Zaundads Zine.

A New Tattoo

968 words. Set in the Fathers and Daughters AU. The story behind Mek’s tattoos.

Five Times Vi Got In Trouble

4.8k words. Vander & Grayson friendship fic done for a charity prize.

Bullseye

500 words. Mel Medarda/Grayson. Mel takes the sheriff with her to visit a progress day and asks her to show off in a shooting range.

My Ko-fi is open for tips, but I'm also open to discuss writing commissions. My DMs are open | Find me on Bsky

275 notes · View notes

sweetsnidle · 8 months ago

Text

sketch of our three survivors (featuring Manami's old design)

from left to right: manami, itsuki (owned by @lesbkinz), and hime.

13 notes · View notes

sunshine-and-kookies · 7 months ago

Text

Venom

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷Summary-> With an impending hurricane tailing your city's shore, your despair to seek shelter elsewhere was off the charts.

Fortunately for you, your brother's best friend had ample amount of space for you in his abode.

Unfortunately for you, he has just as much leeway in his heart, prompting you to consider, maybe the hurricane was a safer choice in the first place.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷Pairing: Soft!Yandere Jeongguk x Reader

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷Genre: Angst, Fluff, Yandere

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷Warnings: Manipulation, Gas-lighting, stifling toxic relationship, dub con subtle touching, Jeongguk being a major red flag with no sense of boundaries , Jeongguk has a skewed moral compass.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷Word count: 1.7k

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷Disclaimer: This standalone piece delves into themes that may be triggering or dark in nature. It is important to note that the behaviors portrayed by Jungkook are purely fictional and do not reflect his real-life character. Reader discretion is advised. Minors are discouraged from engaging with this content. Remember, plagiarism is a serious offense.

✺┅ ⑅ ┅✺✺┅ ⑅ ┅✺✺┅✺✺⑅ ┅┅ ⑅ ┅✺✺┅ ⑅ ┅✺✺┅ ⑅ ┅✺✺┅

Lugging your suitcase on the pristine white marble floor of the high-end complex, you briskly pace towards the elevator. Gingerly clicking the button to the topmost floor of the estate, you heave a sigh of relief. Navigating through the bustling streets of Seoul, especially on a busy Monday, has worn you out to the brink of exhaustion. The elevator dinged, prompting you to get inside.

The aftermath of the upheaval caused by the cyclone in your city forced you to abandon your dilapidated apartment building.

With a tear-stricken face and no roof over your head, you had to resort to calling your brother in the wee hours of dawn.

Long story short, you were to house with a colleague of his, Jeon Jeongguk, temporarily until your apartment was refurbished.

Wringing your wrists together, you mull over how to introduce yourself.

Talking to people was never your forte, and sharing a roof with a man to whom you would be forever indebted had you conjuring up greetings to make a good first impression.

Scrambling through the elevator vault, you trudge towards the large mahogany door of the penthouse, rapping your knuckles on it.

You could discern light footsteps sauntering towards the door.

With half a mind to turn around and beat a hasty retreat, your grip on the handle of the suitcase tightens.

The door opens, and the first thing you see is a mop of curled, disheveled, black locks before a face pops out.

Jeon Jeongguk was in a league of his own.

With shimmering dark doe eyes that turned into crescent moons at the sight of you, a tall, well-defined nose that scrunched endearingly, a jawline sculpted by Adonis himself, and lips so cushiony, that had you biting yours to stifle lunging at his for a taste.

Gaping like a fish out of the sea, you thrust your hand towards him and mutter a meek, "I'm Y/N. It is a pleasure to meet you."

He chortles.

Smacking your outstretched hand and pulling you into his embrace.

He holds you for a moment before bellowing with a charming grin, "Ah, Y/N, the pleasure is all mine. But I would rather you drop the formalities. Your brother and I are great friends after all."

"Of course. I'm just very grateful that you're letting me stay at your place on such short notice. I'm sorry for inconveniencing you."

With a playful twinkle in his eye, he quips, "Inconvenience? Darling, having you here is anything but. Trust me, it's not an inconvenience in the slightest."

You bashfully nod and murmur, "I'll try to stay out of your way as much as possible."

His smile fades instantly, his expression hardening as he retorts with a clenched jaw. "You staying out of my way? That's not why you're here, Y/N. I want you to feel comfortable, not like you have to tiptoe around."

You offer him a sheepish quirk of your lips, distracting him from his ire as he glances at the curve of your plush lips. His eyes darken the longer he stares.

Perturbed by the sudden attention, you let out a light cough, breaking him out of his reverie.

His hand finds purchase on the small of your back as he grabs hold of your luggage. Opening the door wider, his smile widens as he motions for you to enter. "Shall we?" he asks with a charismatic grin, his demeanor back to inviting and reassuring.

Without waiting for your response, he ushers you inside, his hand still curled around your waist, almost possessively.

He closes the door behind him, his gaze lingering on you for a moment too long before he speaks, "Make yourself comfortable, second door to the right. I'll get you something to drink."

Once he leaves you to settle in, you try to shake off the feeling of his intense, almost palpable gaze by entering your temporary bedroom and taking in your grand surroundings.

The bedroom exudes opulence at every turn. The walls are draped in expensive silk wallpaper, a deep shade of burgundy that exudes richness and warmth. Swathes of velvet curtains drape elegantly around the bed.

The bedding is a decadent ensemble of Egyptian cotton sheets, adorned with embroidered patterned motifs in gold thread, and a plush velvet duvet. A gleaming chandelier that hung from the ceiling added to the room's grandeur. The room was regal and lavish in every sense.

Unpacking the suitcase, you arrange your clothes in the walk-in wardrobe. Your hands unfurl your lace underwear, smoothing out the wrinkles left in their wake.

"What are you doing?"

A shriek escapes you as you hide your hands behind your back.

"N-Nothing."

"Y/n, I'm not going to repeat myself. You're living in my house now, and I'll have you know I will not appreciate you hiding anything from me."

Your lack of response prompts the irate man to grab your forearms before gripping whatever you were hiding from him.

He stills.

He clutches the offending item in his hand like his life depends on it.

You wanted the ground to swallow you instantly.

Mortified, you lurch towards him and take your panties back, eyeing him incredulously.

He quickly apologizes, cheeks flushing red. "I'm really sorry, Y/N," he says, his voice softening.

"I shouldn't have invaded your privacy like that." he says, though his tone lacks genuine remorse.

You accept the underwear with a wary look, your expression guarded. "Just... please don't do that again," you say, voice tinged with a mix of irritation and distrust.

He nods, feigning contrition as he tries to mask his growing arousal.

"Of course not," he assures you, biting back a grin, though a mischievous glint remains in his eyes.

"Anyways, freshen up, Y/N. I'm sure the travel must have been very taxing for you."

You nod hesitantly. "Sure, but please don't worry yourself preparing dinner. I'm already full."

"You don't get a choice, Y/N. What I say goes. No skipping meals under my watch."

You're about to protest, but he ushers you inside the washroom.

"Get in now. Don't forget your underwear this time." He jibes playfully.

The smile Jeongguk adorned slipped off the moment you closed the door.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵

Living with Jeongguk entailed a lot of things.

He was as capricious as one could get.

He was sweet. Eliciting chuckles from you as you both do your laundry, feeding you strawberries as you sit on the kitchen counter watching him cook, and taking playful jibes at you as you both compete playing overwatch. He spoiled you, and you let him.

This was undoubtedly your first mistake.

What began as sweet gestures soon morphed into stifling control. He was overbearingly caring and fussy, ensuring you ate all your meals on time.

His overprotective nature was omnipresent as he made sure to drop and pick you up from college, glaring at anyone he deemed a threat to his "best friend's sister."

With each passing day, his grip tightened, his possessiveness growing like a creeping vine, wrapping around your life and choking out your independence.

He monitored your every move, criticizing your outfit choices, isolating you from your friends, and slowly making you depend solely on him. For entertainment, for affection, for food, and for shelter. Until your resolve broke.

You began to question, and push back against his control. But for every step you took towards freedom, he pulled you two steps back, manipulating your emotions with expert precision.

The sweetness of his gestures became tainted with manipulation, his spoiling ways a guise for his insidious intentions. You no longer wish to be the passive recipient of his spoiling ways.

"I'm not asking you for permission, Jeongguk. I'm telling you that I'm moving back to my place. It has been renovated, and there is no need for me to stay here anymore."

The weight of his gaze bore down on you as you hear him let out an indignant scoff. "That's cute."

You arch a brow, encouraging him to elaborate.

He grins. "It's cute you think you can leave whenever you please, baby." He hums contentedly, approaching you with a confident gait.

Your brow furrows at his dismissive response, a mixture of frustration and determination coursing through your veins. His words were like a slap in the face, a stark reminder of the power imbalance that had sullied your relationship.

But you refused to cower in the face of his arrogance, standing your ground as he closed the distance between you with a smug grin. His confidence radiated like a suffocating aura, but you refused to let it intimidate you.

Caught in his tight grasp, you struggled against his hold, feeling the pressure of his fingers like steel clamps on your arm.

"I won't let you go," he growled, his voice dripping with possessiveness as he tightened his grip, refusing to release you from his grasp.

"Don't you get it, Y/N? You came here on your own volition, but you only leave on mine."

Thrashing against him, you realize the extent of his obsession. The one that has sucked you into perilous doom.

"I've known you're mine since the day I saw you drop Tae's lunch in the office. How naive of him to think I'll befriend him without an axe to grind."

Your eyebrows furrow at that.

"People like him are just pawns in my world. Pawns without an ounce of dignity. Why do you think brother dearest asked you to live with a colleague of his rather than his own house, that too in the face of adversity?"

Your eyes widen with disbelief as you still in his hold.

"Like I said baby, the only one you should rely on is me. I'll keep you safe."

He smirks as he sees the fight in you leave. A sense of resignation washing over you.

"Now be a good girl and kiss me."

Jeon Jeongguk was a lot of things.

He was charming, charismatic, and possessive to a fault.

But above all else, he was a master manipulator, skilled in the art of twisting words and emotions, tailored to suit his own desires.

You learned it the hard way.

The hurricane you escaped was a safer, more viable option than residing with this monster.

..............................................................................................................................

702 notes · View notes

thewulf · 7 months ago

Text

A Realm Reborn || Eris Vanserra

Summary: Request - I know there aren’t many Eris fics out there, especially ones that dive deeper into his unexplored character, so I was wondering if you could write one? In my head, Eris is the same stoic, narcissistic male we meet in the books. His last dispute with the Night Court leave Rhys ordering Azriel to spy on him and his affairs... Read Rest Here

A/N: Sorry for the delay! My mom came into town this weekend so spent my time with her :) I LOVED WRITING THIS. Cheeky Rhys is my favorite and a different side to Eris is always welcomed. Thank you SO much for the request @talesofadragon

Pairing: Eris Vanserra x Female Reader (Mate)

Word Count: 6.2k +

TW: Pregnant Mate, coup, coup success (no direct talk of actual death)

In the dense shadows cast by the towering trees of the Autumn Court, Eris Vanserra's thoughts were troubled. Despite his position as Beron's son, he found himself increasingly ensnared by the labyrinth of court politic. A dangerous game where your involvement could mean your undoing. As his feelings for you deepened so too did his fear for your safety.

It was during a whispered conversation that was hidden away in the less frequented corridors of his father's estate that Eris's resolve hardened. "The Autumn Court is no place for you," he told you. His voice a mix of determination and despair. "Not while it's a chessboard for power and you could become a pawn my love."

Eris knew that secrecy was your best shield. For that he turned to Thesan, the High Lord of the Dawn Court. Known for his benevolence and discrete nature Thesan was a stark contrast to Beron. Eris met with Thesan under the veil of night at a secluded crossroads where the borders of their realms brushed against each other.

Eris approached Thesan with a heavy heart. His steps echoing through the quiet, ornate halls of the Dawn Court. The tranquil beauty of his surroundings did little to soothe his frayed nerves. He had spent countless nights planning his approach, and now, standing before the High Lord of the Dawn Court his usual stoic mask softened revealing the urgency and desperation he felt.

"I come seeking your aid but not for myself. For someone very dear to me," Eris began. His voice trembling slightly despite his best efforts to remain composed. Thesan, who was ever observant, noted the uncharacteristic vulnerability in Eris's eyes and inclined his head signaling for him to continue.

Eris took a deep breath as he gathered his thoughts. "The Autumn Court is a place of shadows and intrigue. A web of danger that ensnares even the most cautious as you know. My mate, she... she is from the Dawn Court and the light and peace here are what she needs to remain safe. Safe in her home. The Autumn Court's cruelty... it's no place for her especially now that she carries our child."

Thesan's eyes widened slightly at this revelation, but he remained silent allowing Eris to continue.

"I beg of you, Thesan," Eris nearly whispered as his voice was raw with emotion. "Grant her sanctuary here, within the safety and serenity of your court. Of her old home. I cannot bear the thought of her, or our unborn child being exposed to the darkness that pervades my father's realm. She needs a place where the shadows of the Autumn Court cannot reach. Where she can live without fear."

The plea in Eris's voice was palpable. Each word weighted with the love and desperation he felt. Thesan regarded him for a moment seeing the sincerity in his eyes and the genuine fear for his loved one's safety.

After a long pause Thesan nodded, his decision made. "The Dawn Court values peace and protection above all else. Your mate will find sanctuary here, Eris. She will be safe within our borders hidden from those who would seek to harm her."

Relief washed over Eris. His shoulders sagging slightly as the burden he had carried for so long began to lift. "Thank you," he breathed with his gratitude profound. "You have no idea what this means to me, to us."

Thesan offered a reassuring smile. "I do, Eris. Go with the knowledge that she will be well protected. And when the time comes I hope your court can find the light it so desperately needs." With a final nod Eris turned to leave, his heart lighter but his resolve stronger than ever. He would do everything in his power to ensure that you and your child would live in safety and peace as far away from the shadows of the Autumn Court as he could find.

Grateful for Thesan's understanding Eris arranged for your discreet relocation. Under the cover of darkness, you were spirited away to a hidden cottage deep within the Dawn Court's lush forests. It was a haven crafted from silence and secrecy surrounded by nature's untouched beauty where the only shadows were those cast by the leaves.

Eris visited as often as his duties allowed. Each departure from the Autumn Court a carefully orchestrated affair to avoid drawing attention. To the world he remained the calculating, distant son of Beron. But with you, he allowed his true self to surface—tender and fiercely protective.

"You must stay hidden, just a little longer," Eris would say during his visits. His hands cupping your face, eyes searching yours for any sign of weariness. "For now, this is where you are safest. One day I hope to bring you back with me. And not as a secret to be kept but as my queen to be celebrated."

In your hidden sanctuary under Thesan's subtle protection, you found a semblance of peace. The Dawn Court became your home again. A place where you could breathe away from the oppressive intrigues of the Autumn Court. Though your heart longed for the day you and Eris could be openly together you understood the necessity of the present shadows. Within them, you grew strong, waiting for the day the dawn could truly be yours.

You often linger in the quiet serenity of dawn's light patiently awaiting the gentle tap at your window that heralds his arrival. Eris, burdened with the obligations of being Beron’s son and a key figure in the Autumn Court manages to carve out stolen moments to visit you. Each time he appears there’s a softening in his eyes. A tenderness reserved just for you that no one back at his court ever gets to see. “I wish I could be here more,” he murmurs apologetically. His fingers brushing lightly against your skin. The touch contrasting starkly with his usual guarded nature. He repeats this apology with every visit, each word heavy with the longing for a simpler life one that was far removed from the intricate dances of court politics. You understand, of course. You always do. The stakes are high, and the secrecy of your relationship weighs heavily on both of your hearts.

Within the walls of the Autumn Court Eris embodies stoicism. His face is a mask of composure. His decisions and demeanor shaped by necessity and surveillance. Here, he is not just Beron's son but a pivotal player in the court's machinations. He was always under the watchful eyes of those who would see him falter. The warmth and smiles he shares with you are absent in his home instead replaced by the cold, calculating guise required of him.

Meanwhile, Rhysand senses an undercurrent of discrepancy in Eris’s pattern of behavior. Accustomed to the complexities of leadership and the personal sacrifices it demands Rhysand detects a shift that is hard to ignore. With a furrowed brow he calls upon Azriel, his master of spies. "Watch Eris closely," he instructs. His voice imbued with the gravity of his concern. "There’s a chance he’s entangled in something perilous. Or perhaps embroiled in a plot that could endanger us all."

Azriel nods, his presence already fading into the gathering shadows. Azriel was prepared to delve into the night. His task is to monitor Eris discreetly. To trace his secretive steps and to uncover any truths that might threaten the precarious balance between their realms. As Azriel disappears, a silent storm seems to brew on the horizon. The weight of potential betrayals and hidden agendas casting a long shadow over the Night Court.

Back in the secluded embrace of the Dawn Court where you await his next visit you remain blissfully unaware of the watchful eyes now turned towards your secret refuge. The moments you share with Eris are fleeting yet filled with an intensity that speaks of a profound connection, each whispered promise and shared dream a defiance of the roles and duties that seek to keep you apart.

As the Shadowsinger, Azriel had honed his skills to near perfection, blending seamlessly into the night as he monitored the borders of the Night Court. His task was to unravel the threads of a mystery that had intrigued Rhysand: the secretive movements of Eris Vanserra. Despite Azriel's expertise Eris had proven to be a challenging subject. He was lways cautious, always covered in a cloak of meticulous precision.

Night after night, Azriel's shadows whispered back fragments of routines, patterns that spoke of careful planning and discreet travels. Yet, nothing conclusive presented itself. No proof of wrongdoing or secret alliances—until that unexpected storm brewed over the Dawn Court.

Under the cover of an enveloping storm in the Dawn Court Eris Vanserra attempted to maneuver back to the Autumn Court with his usual stealth. The violent weather, however, disrupted his precise timings, extending his stay unexpectedly and playing havoc with his meticulously laid plans. This deviation caught the attention of Azriel who had been tracking the faintest traces of inconsistency in Eris’s movements for weeks.

That night as the storm raged Azriel’s shadows grew more potent, swirling with the tempest, mirroring the chaos of the natural world. They led him directly to a secluded path where Eris, cloaked against the elements and made his late departure from a hidden cottage tucked away in the lush foliage of the Dawn Court.

Azriel was drenched but determined. He confronted Eris on the storm-laden path. "Eris," Azriel called out sharply, his voice cutting through the howling wind, "the storm may shield you from others but not from the shadows."

Eris stopped, his silhouette tense. Azriel stepped forward as his presence was unmistakable. He was a shadow among shadows. "What secrets do you hide that necessitate such risks, even in such perilous weather?" Azriel demanded. This time his tone sharper, more pressing than before.

Seeing no immediate reply Azriel took a calculated step towards the cottage hinting at his intent to discover the truth himself. It was then that he saw it—fear, genuine and stark, flit across Eris’s features. A rare crack in his usually impenetrable facade.

"Wait!" Eris’s voice broke through the storm immediately halting Azriel's advance. The urgency and fear in his tone were palpable. "There is someone... someone very important to me inside. It’s not just my safety at stake. I implore you, for their safety, let us not draw any unwanted attention here."

Azriel paused as he evaluated Eris's plea, the sincerity in his voice resonating even amidst the tumult of the storm. "Who are you protecting, Eris?" Azriel asked. His stance unyielding yet not advancing further.

With the storm as their only witness, Eris's resolve crumbled. "I am to be a father," he confessed. The words heavy with a mix of fear and protective fervor. "The mother of my child, my mate, she is there in the cottage. The Autumn Court is no place for her Not with the dangers and the dark games afoot."

Azriel's expression softened ever so slightly understanding the depth of Eris’s concern. "This is a matter for Rhysand. Secrets involving cross-court movements can endanger more than just your family," he insisted though his voice carried a note of empathy.

In the aftermath of the storm that had inadvertently revealed his secret, Eris found himself following Azriel through the winding, rain-slicked paths that led back to the Night Court. The journey was tense, filled with the unsaid words and unasked questions that hung heavily between them. Azriel led the way, his figure a dark blur against the storm-dampened landscape.

Upon their arrival Rhysand awaited them in his study. The room bathed in the soft glow of floating orbs that cast long shadows across his face. The High Lord of the Night Court regarded Eris with a mix of curiosity and sternness. His expression a masterful blend of intrigue and authority.

"Eris," Rhysand began. His voice smooth and deceptively light, "Azriel has been quite entertained tracking your nocturnal adventures. It’s not every day we catch a son of Autumn dancing with the dawn. So, tell me, what drives you to seek refuge in the light while your own court dwells in shadow?"

Eris with his usual composure battling with the raw urgency of his situation took a deep breath before speaking. "It's a matter of the heart and of life," he confessed. The gravity of his words reflecting the seriousness of his plight. "I have my mate in the Dawn Court. She is with child. The Autumn Court is a place of machinations and malice. No place to raise a family or to cherish life."

Rhysand leaned back in his chair. A slow smile spreading across his face, his eyes twinkling with the thrill of unfolding secrets. "A clandestine love and an unborn child," he mused. His tone both amused and considerate. "You do know how to weave a compelling tale, Eris. But such secrets could tip the scales of power. They need... managing."

Standing up, Rhysand circled his desk, coming to lean against it as he faced Eris squarely. "Here’s my offer—a bargain if you will. I ensure your family's safety. We will shield them from the shadows of your father’s reach. In return, you pledge your loyalty to me. Provide me with insight into Autumn, help me understand its inner workings. Together, we might just find a way to bring a little more light into your court."

Eris's eyes narrowed slightly as he considered the proposal. "You're asking me to betray my court Rhysand."

Rhysand's grin widened with playful glint in his eyes. He was enjoying this far too much. "Not betrayal, Eris. Think of it as... strategic realignment. Besides, isn't it high time Autumn had a leader who values life and love over power and fear?"

Eris let out a short, humorless laugh. "You make it sound so noble, Rhysand. But we both know it's about leverage. You want eyes and ears in Autumn, and I need my family safe."

Rhysand shrugged, unfazed. "Call it what you like. Leverage, nobility, practicality. The fact remains that we both get what we need. And honestly Eris, who else are you going to trust with this? Beron? One of your brothers?"

Eris's gaze hardened. "Watch your tongue, Rhysand. My family may be fractured but they are still my blood."

Rhysand raised his hands in mock surrender. His smile never faltering. "Peace, Eris. I'm merely stating the obvious. Your loyalty to them is admirable but it's misplaced if it endangers your mate and child."

Eris felt the weight of his decision pressing down on him. The safety of his mate and future child was paramount and he knew this was the only way to secure it. With a heavy heart, he made his choice, knowing his true loyalty now lay with you and the life growing within you.

“You have a deal then Rhysand,” Eris agreed. His voice resolute yet tinged with regret. “I accept your bargain.”

Rhysand extended his hand with that mischievous glint in his eye. “Welcome to the family, Eris. Let’s hope this is the start of a fruitful partnership.”

Eris scoffed at the word "family," the irony not lost on him. "Family," he repeated, his tone filled with bitterness. This only drew a wider smile from Rhysand, who seemed to relish the complexity of the situation. Eris shook Rhysand’s hand firmly making sure to seal the pact with a mixture of determination and resignation. “Indeed. For both our sakes.”

Rhysand’s grin widened very pleased with the agreement. "Excellent," he replied, his tone rich with satisfaction. "I do enjoy a good bargain. Especially when it’s sealed under such... dramatic circumstances."

As Eris left the study the weight of the bargain settled around him. He was entwined now in the intricate dance of court politics in ways he had never anticipated. Yet, there was a flicker of hope. A chance that through this bargain his mate and child might live free from fear.

In the serene twilight of the Dawn Court the air was filled with the gentle scent of blooming night flowers casting a tranquil spell over the hidden cottage that had become your sanctuary. Eris had arrived under the cover of dusk, his presence a comforting shadow in the doorway. His eyes looked for yours with a mixture of longing and solemnity.

As he stepped inside the softness in his gaze was solely for you. The harshness of his other life momentarily stripped away. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a tender embrace. His touch speaking of missed moments and cherished returns.

“You’re looking more beautiful every day,” Eris murmured with his lips brushing against your temple as he spoke. His hand gently caressed your swollen belly. The life within a testament to your shared love hidden away from the world’s prying eyes. “Not long now,” he whispered. A trace of both excitement and anxiety threading his voice.

Eris knelt before you. His fingers tracing the curve of your belly with reverence. “Just hold on for a little longer, my love,” he said softly addressing both you and the unborn child. “The time is near, and soon, we won’t have to hide. Soon, I’ll bring you both into the light where you belong.”

He pressed his lips gently to your stomach. A silent promise passing from his lips to the child who stirred at his touch. “Your father is working on making the world a safer place for you,” he whispered as if he believed the baby could hear and understand. “A place where shadows turn into protection, not peril. Just a little longer.”

As the night deepened around you, Eris shared whispers of a plan—a strategic move that would change everything. “Rhysand and I, we’ve set things in motion,” he confided in you with his voice a low rumble filled with a blend of hope and determination. “It’s a risk, a great one, but it’s for us—for our family. For a future where our child can grow up without fear.”

In the quiet comfort of the cottage, as Eris shared the weight of his plans, you listened with a heart full of mixed emotions. Hope mingled with worry. When he finished speaking you pulled him closer, your hands framing his face gently guiding him to look directly into your eyes.

With the softest of touches, you pressed your lips to his. A kiss filled with all the love and reassurance you could muster. "Be careful, Eris," you whispered against his lips, the urgency of your plea softened by the affection in your voice. "Remember, you're not just fighting for the two of anymore. We need you, both your baby and me. We need you to come back to us."

Eris's eyes that were usually so fierce and determined softened under the sincerity of your words. He nodded as a vow passing between you two. "I will be careful," he promised, the steadiness in his voice aiming to soothe your fears. "I'll return to you, to both of you. That's a promise I intend to keep."

He held you a little longer. The silence around you blooming like the night flowers in the garden. It was a precious, fragile moment. One filled with the promise of futures both bright and uncertain.

With one last look, a lingering gaze that seemed to capture every facet of his love and commitment, Eris stepped back into the shadows of the night. Leaving behind the safety of the cottage for the dangers that awaited. You watched him disappear holding tightly to the promise sealed with a kiss. The belief in his return keeping your fears at bay as the dawn approached.

Eris's farewell to you was tender. It was filled with promises and reassurances whispered against the backdrop of a serene Dawn Court dawn. Yet, the moment he stepped out of the cottage and into the cool morning air, the weight of what was to come settled over him like armor. He glanced back once, locking away the image of you standing in the doorway. A silhouette of strength and grace against the soft morning light. With that final, poignant image etched in his heart he turned and disappeared into the forest where he was whisked away to the Night Court.

It was abrupt, he serene ambiance of the Dawn Court giving way to the charged atmosphere of the House of Wind. Under the shadow of the mountain and the watchful eyes of the stars, Rhysand and his Inner Circle were already assembled. The war room was alive with low conversations and the rustle of maps. Each member of the Inner Circle reviewing their roles one last time.

As Eris entered the room fell into a hushed anticipation. Rhysand looked up, his expression a mix of concern and resolve. "It's time," he simply stated acknowledging Eris's arrival as the final piece of their carefully laid plan clicking into place.

Eris nodded, the transition from loving partner to a leader poised to reclaim his court complete. He approached the table. His gaze sweeping over the maps and documents that laid out the coup in meticulous detail. His input had been critical in shaping the strategy, and now, as the dawn light began to spill over the horizon he prepared to lead the charge that would end Beron's reign.

"Let's go over this one last time," Eris said. His voice steady and commanding, drawing the group’s focus. The Inner Circle leaned in ready to absorb every last detail. In this room with these allies, Eris transformed from a partner worried for his family's safety into a general about to lead a battle for freedom and justice.

The plan was clear, each member’s role defined with precision. As they finalized their preparations the weight of responsibility was palpable but so was the sense of imminent change. They were not just planning a coup. They were setting the stage for a new era in the Autumn Court. An era that would begin as soon as Eris and his team stepped back through the portal, ready to act.

The coup unfolded with the silent ferocity of a shadow moving across a dimly lit room. Under the cloak of night, Eris, accompanied by a cadre of Night Court elites, maneuvered through the twisting corridors of the Autumn Court. Their steps were soundless. Their presence as spectral as the whispers of conspiracies that had long filled these halls. Azriel had masterfully neutralized the guards leaving Beron's defenses stripped away exposing him to the fate that awaited.

Beron, the once formidable High Lord of Autumn, was found alone in his private chambers. His usual contingent of protectors conspicuously absent thanks to Azriel. As Eris entered, the air tightened, charged with the imminent finality of what was to come. Beron turned, his face contorting with a complex mix of emotions—betrayal, fear, and a grudging acceptance of his grim fate.

"Eris," Beron began. His voice faltering under the weight of his son's cold gaze. "Is this how you claim your legacy? With treachery?"

Eris stood unwavering, his figure casting a long shadow that merged with the darkness of the room. "This isn't treachery, Father. This is justice," he replied. His voice resonating with a steely calm that belied the storm of emotions within. "For years your reign has sown fear and pain. Under your rule trust was a weakness and love a liability."

He stepped closer his eyes never leaving Beron's. "I learned from you all the ways a leader should not govern. You ruled with cruelty, believing it strength. You fostered suspicion and betrayal among your own people."

Beron's eyes that were once so commanding now flickered with the realization of his imminent demise. He tried to muster his usual authoritative tone, but it cracked, revealing his underlying despair. "You are my blood. Would you truly strike down your own father?"

Eris's expression hardened, any filial affection extinguished by years of cold indifference and calculated manipulation. "I am your son, but I am not you. I will not be a tyrant. I will be the leader that the Autumn Court deserves. One who rules with integrity, not through fear. I will undo the damage you've inflicted upon our realm."

The silence that followed was suffocating. Eris drew closer. His presence overwhelming the room. "You won't be remembered as a mighty ruler, only as a cautionary tale of the ruin that comes from such tyranny."

With that, Eris ended Beron's reign. Not with grandiose declarations or a spectacle, but in the quiet of the night. A swift and decisive action that mirrored his commitment to change. Beron slumped, a final sigh escaping him, a mixture of relief and resignation, as the terror of his own legacy finally caught up with him.

As Eris stood over his fallen father, the weight of his actions settled upon him. This was the first step toward a better future. A reign defined by compassion and fairness, the antithesis of everything Beron had stood for. In that profound and painful moment Eris vowed to reshape the Autumn Court into a place where fear no longer held sway.

It was declared the next morning that Beron had passed in his sleep. A peaceful end to a tumultuous reign that accepted without question by his brothers and even his mother who all were too aware of the need for change. The guards, their loyalty ensured through discreet negotiations by Cassian, upheld the narrative ensuring a seamless transition of power. It was either that or death.

Eris took the reins of leadership with a careful, watchful grace. The initial weeks were fraught with subtle maneuvers and delicate alliances. He addressed the Autumn Court not with grand declarations but with a quiet assertion of a new philosophy. One where fear and oppression had no place.

During this time Eris chose to keep you hidden a while longer in the Dawn Court ensuring that any remnants of his father's loyalists were fully pacified. That the court's stability was unquestionable. With the realm calm and the whispers of dissent fading into hopeful dialogues Eris finally felt the time was right to bring you home.

You were near the end of your pregnancy when Eris returned to you. His joy at seeing you so close to bringing their child into the world was mingled with a profound relief that he could now share his life openly with you. “The court is ready for you, my love,” Eris whispered as he knelt before you his hand gently caressing your belly. “And they will adore you as I do.”

With careful planning your arrival at the Autumn Court was orchestrated not as a mere introduction but as a celebration of the new life both in your womb and in the realm. When you finally appeared by Eris's side with his arm protectively around you, the court met you not with whispers of curiosity but with open arms and quiet respect.

Your presence at Eris’s side in the subsequent weeks, visibly pregnant and radiant, served as a powerful symbol of the new era in the Autumn Court. A time of transparency, renewal, and familial love. As you walked through the halls of the palace, those who met your gaze saw not just their future queen but as the hope for a new peace that Eris had promised.

With Eris's careful introduction of you to the court your grace and warmth quickly dispelled any lingering doubts. The both of you navigated this new chapter. Your partnership a public testament to the union of love and leadership that promised to guide the Autumn Court into a prosperous and open-hearted future.

The early morning light filtered through the windows of the Autumn Court casting warm hues over the hall where a significant gathering was about to take place. The air buzzed with anticipation. Not just for the political ceremony but for the new life that had already sparked joy and hope throughout the court.

Only weeks earlier, in the quiet sanctity of the royal chambers, you had given birth to a baby boy. The event was celebrated quietly but joyously within the palace and news of the heir's arrival had already endeared the court to their new High Lord and his family even more.

The great hall of the Autumn Court buzzed with an electric anticipation. Its ancient stones echoing the soft murmurs of courtiers and the rustle of fine silks. High Lords from neighboring courts lined the room. Their expressions a mixture of curiosity and cautious respect, with Rhysand among them, his observant eyes missing nothing.

You stood beside Eris, the warmth of his presence a steady comfort as you held your son. The baby, swaddled snugly, peeked out with wide eyes. His tiny fingers clutching at the air. Eris, resplendent in the deep hues of autumn—gold and russet embroidered onto his ceremonial robes—looked every inch the leader reborn. He exuded a calm authority. His gestures tender yet assured as he adjusted the blanket around your son, his touch gentle yet firm.

As the moment for the ceremony approached the murmurs hushed to a reverent silence. The eldest of the courtiers, a venerable fae with silver hair flowing down his back, stepped forward. He carried the mantle of the High Lord. An ornate piece embroidered with the rich history of their people.

“Today, we witness the dawn of a new era," the elder announced. His voice resonating through the hall. "Here stands Eris Vanserra who has proven his mettle not just as a warrior but as a leader who values justice and the welfare of his people above all."

Turning to Eris he draped the mantle over his shoulders. "By the power of all and the traditions of our court and the approval of the High Lords here present, I declare you, Eris Vanserra, High Lord of the Autumn Court. May your reign bring peace and prosperity to our lands."

Rhysand’s gaze was steady on Eris with a small, knowing smile playing at his lips, signaling silent approval. As the mantle settled on Eris's shoulders the court erupted into applause. The sound thunderous in the enclosed space, relieved. The courtiers’ faces were alight with hope and respect. Their applause not just a formality but a heartfelt endorsement of their new leader.

Eris took a moment to let the weight of the mantle and the responsibility it symbolized sink in. Then, he turned to you and your son. His expression softening. He leaned in close, his words for you alone amidst the clamor, "We begin anew, for us and our son."

As the applause continued Eris addressed the assembly. His voice carrying the strength of his convictions. "I stand before you today, not as a ruler in isolation, but as one who seeks to lead through unity and understanding. Together we will rebuild what was lost and forge new paths toward a future filled with hope."

The promise of his words with the vision he shared, resonated deeply, not just within the walls of the great hall but through the heart of every fae present. As you looked up at him, your son cradled between you, the significance of this moment was not just in the crowning of a new High Lord but in the celebration of a family that would guide this transformation. Beneath the watchful eyes of allies and adversaries alike you stood ready to embark on this new journey. A journey that promised to reshape the world around you.

As Rhysand approached with a dignified yet warm presence, the hall's chatter faded, creating a private sphere around you, Eris, and the Night Court High Lord. Rhysand's eyes softened as he gazed at the child in your arms and his smile conveyed genuine respect and joy.

"Congratulations are certainly in order," he began. His voice gentle, addressing you directly with a warmth that felt personal and sincere. "Not only for the birth of your son but for being the cornerstone upon which a new Autumn has been reborn. Truly, a new era indeed."

You felt a flush of pride at his words recognizing the depth of the role you had played in the transformations not just within your family but across the court. "Thank you, Rhysand," you responded. Your voice steady and filled with gratitude. "It's been a journey of many challenges, but seeing the court unite and thrive under Eris's leadership. It’s a reward in itself. Our son will grow up in a realm that values peace and unity all thanks to the support from friends like you."

Rhysand nodded appreciatively at your acknowledgment before turning his attention to Eris. "Today, we celebrate not only the stability and peace that Lord Eris has brought to the Autumn Court," he continued. His voice echoing subtly through the now quieter hall. "We also mark the formal conclusion of our agreement. A pact sealed to protect and to rebuild. Seeing the prosperity it has brought here, I declare our mission accomplished."

Eris, standing tall and proud beside you, responded with a nod. His voice resonating with confidence and a touch of emotion. "The support of the Night Court was invaluable during these times of change. With our goals achieve we now stand together not just as allies but as friends in work. As High Lord of Autumn, I am committed to leading with transparency and integrity. The very same principles that this alliance has been built upon."

Eris then turned back to you. His expression gentler as he included you and your son in his gaze. "And none of this could have been possible without the strength and support of my family," he affirmed, his voice tender. "My mate and our son are the heart of all we strive for. The future we envision."

Rhysand's smile broadened. His eyes reflecting a mixture of pride and camaraderie. "The Autumn Court is indeed fortunate. To rise from shadows into such a promising dawn guided by such devoted hands," he commented. "Your son will grow up in a realm reborn. One that cherishes life and love. A true testament to both of you."

With a final nod of respect Rhysand allowed other courtiers to approach and offer their congratulations leaving you with the affirming knowledge of your family's central role in shaping a hopeful future for the Autumn Court.

The day moved into celebration. The halls of the Autumn Court ringing with music and laughter, a stark contrast to the days of Beron’s rule. As you mingled among your people Eris was always nearby. It was clear that the court was not just accepting but truly embracing this new chapter.

Your family stood later at the balcony overlooking the vibrant gardens. Your son nestled against you. Eris’s arm wrapped protectively around both of you. Below, the people of the Autumn Court looked up, their faces smiling, their cheers a promise of loyalty and hope. This was the future Eris had fought for. A legacy of love and peace for his son and it was just beginning.

As the celebrations dwindled into the soft hues of the evening, the Autumn Court, now steeped in the gentle sounds of peace and prosperity, seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. The corridors and gardens that were once the backdrop of clandestine plots and whispered fears now echoed with laughter and hopeful conversations.

Inside the royal quarters, Eris, you, and your son found solitude away from the remaining festivities. The room was bathed in the warm glow of the setting sun filtering through large windows and casting golden patterns on the floor. Eris stood by the window while holding your son gently in his arms, watching as his little eyes fluttered closed, succumbing to sleep after a day filled with new sensations.

Turning from the window Eris walked back to where you sat, a soft smile playing on his lips. He handed your son to you, and you cradled him close feeling the gentle rise and fall of his tiny chest. Eris sat beside you, his arm encircling your shoulders, drawing you both into his embrace.

"Today, I felt everything align my love," Eris whispered, his voice a tender rumble in the quiet room. "Seeing our people, hearing their hopes, and holding our son—I have never been more certain of our path."

You nodded, leaning into his side, your head resting against his shoulder. "It feels like we've finally stepped out of the shadows," you murmured back feeling the truth of your words resonate deep within.

Eris kissed the top of your head. His gaze lingering on the peaceful face of your son. "We did more than step out," he corrected softly, pride mingling with joy in his tone. "We dispelled them, together."

As twilight deepened, the three of you sat in silence. A family united not just by blood but by the shared trials that had tempered your spirits and bound your hearts. Outside, the last light of the day gave way to the first stars of night, a symbol of the enduring light you had brought to the Autumn Court.

Eris's earlier turmoil with the weight of leadership and legacy, seemed to dissolve instead replaced by a profound contentment. In this quiet room with his family, his court secure and thriving, he felt a happiness that was deep and genuine. A happiness that whispered of enduring peace and future filled with promise.

This moment, simple yet profound, was the true beginning for Eris, you, and your son. A beginning marked not by declarations and formalities but by quiet love and shared dreams under the watchful stars of the Autumn Court.

ACOTAR Permanent Taglist (Message me or comment below if you want to be added!) : @loving-and-dreaming @kmc1989 @memeorydotcom @matisse556 @buckylov3r @taygrls @ah-blossom @hardballoonlove @rosiahills22 @djs8891 @kenn-spencerswifey @guacam011y @illisea @hiireadstuff @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @lilah-asteria @fandomarchiveilyd @nickishadow139

333 notes · View notes

nalooksthrough · 5 months ago

Text

Dale Dimmadome Analysis (with screenshots)

Dale is one of my favourite characters on the show. He's a funny evil man, that amuses me with his antics and his role as a child slave/kidnap victim in the original series leaves a lot to be explored.

This analysis will be talking about his attachment to money which trust me is a lot more interesting than it sounds. This will be quite a long post. I'll put a cut under this paragraph, so that the people who aren't interested don't have to scroll through the whole post.

Going to assume that since you decided to keep reading, that your interested in what I have to say. This analysis will only be covering "Stanky Danky" and "Lost and Founder's Day" with a brief mention of "Operation Birthday Takeback". I think those two episodes are more than sufficient enough to convey my point.

When we first meet Dale in "Stanky Danky" he's seen coming down from a helicopter, onto a big stage to sell products to people. He appears to be level headed with confidence oozing out of him. But this changes the moment he realises that people aren't going to buy anything.

He almost immediately starts to panic.

He starts shuttering as he calls out to the crowd to buy more things.

His panic becomes anger. Briefly switching back to panic before fully settling into anger. His anger then becomes targeted at the person whose telling these people not to buy from him. He questions who this girl is, what's her name.

Once he's learnt her name. He starts thinking up a way he can stop her and get the customer's interest back.

And once he's found it he strikes.

Going as far as to kidnap Danky and emotionally manipulate him just so he can get what he wants.

Leaving the monster in an isolated area of his estate when he's not of any current use to him. I mean talk about becoming your abuser.

And when Hazel and Danky leave he rushes out calling out to the trash monster, saying that he was "like a son" to him. Trying to appeal to Danky's emotions, desperately trying to get him back. All so he doesn't lose that source of profit.

And when he starts losing all his profits at the end of the episode he falls to his knees, wailing in a fit of despair. He's obsessed with money, he needs it and he's willing to do anything to get it. This obsession of his is best shown in "Lost and Founder's Day"

He spends the first portion of the episode happily monologing as he explains how his Dim Watches "tickle" a child's brain to indicate when they want something. Everything is going exactly as he planned.

Until it isn't.

The moment he spots someone not buying anything he starts getting angry. Ranting at the screen.

His anger only growing more when he realises that this "anomaly" is stopping other people from buying things too.

And when Dev points out that stuff is still getting sold and they are still earning money. He shuts him down.

Stating that while yes people are still buying things. The profit he's making from the festival in going down. And he is not happy about it.

In fact he's so enraged by this that he starts to send drones and his son after it so that he can "learn it's secrets". He can't handle the idea that someone doesn't want to buy anything from him.

And when that doesn't work, he activates the statues. Putting the whole festival on lock down until he can track down the "anomaly".

And when a drone points out how counter productive terrorising the festival attendees is to earning money and making a profit. He quite literally shuts it down.

And at the end of the episode, when the statues are put to a stop and everyone leaves.

He's back in that pit of despair. A literal stream of tears flowing out of his eyes. And he so affected by this that he spent literal months studying this "anomaly" figuring out why it didn't seem interested in buying anything during the festival. And the thing is. If he had just left it alone. The festival would have gone on without much of a hitch. But he just couldn't, because it was never about the money. Not really. It was about him.

It's clear that he puts a lot of value onto money. More than most. With money being tied directly to his identity and sense of security. The more money he makes, the better he feels about himself and when he starts to lose money, he takes it as a direct attack on him. He knows what it's like to have nothing and he doesn't ever want to be in that state again. So he obsessively tries to earn more and more in order feel secure in himself. But it's never enough. And when someone threatens that security he goes on the defence. Even at the cost of the losing other potential sales.

And when he loses all his profits and is no longer generating money, he breaks. And for a brief moment, he's no longer Dale Dimmadome owner of Dimmadome G0bal.

He's Dale. A frighten young boy working in a factory underneath a lemonade stand, whose only wish is for his father to come and rescue him.

#fop #fop a new wish #the fairly oddparents #fairly oddparents #the fairly oddparents a new wish #fairly oddparents a new wish #dale dimmadome #character analysis #long post

197 notes · View notes

threepandas · 4 months ago

Text

Bad End: We Are

Senatus was a ecumenopolis. The "shining jewel" (yeah, right) of the Galactic Core. Please. Like? Maybe it was! If you were RICH AS FUCK. I don't know. I'VE never seen the towers. The heights. Most people haven't. Street level? Is about FIVE HUNDRED FLOORS DOWN. And the UNDERGROUND? Speak not of it.

The Underground GROWS.

What was street level today, may not be tomorrow. Levels buried under "progress" as the rich grow ever higher. The Tox levels ever worse. Air quality dropping. Why fix the peasant's poverty and despair, when you can buy a Sky garden you'll never use? And yes, I AM bitter as a Buirian fish ration. Just as salty too. Taste the SEA, motherfuckers.

Rent? Who can AFFORD rent!? Who can afford ANYTHING?!

It's some BULLSHIT.

But me? I remembered. A life. Before this one. Before the millennium of slow, drip drip drip erosion of duty and dues. Back when people still REMEMBERED what they were OWED. And when folks in power failed to pay up? Ffffuck um. Take it. Our house now, motherfuckers. Diplomacy was a courtesy not a weakness.

....I make people nervous, honestly.

Probably why I keep getting fired. That and my constantly reporting people to regulatory boards. Maybe don't break the LAW if you don't want to get in trouble you SHITS. Fuck you! Yes, I stole your fancy office chair. PROVE IT. You don't know how the security system works!

Where was I? Ah, right. Rent.

Fuck Rent.

Thing is? What! Is a biodome? If not an enclosed system, regulated by machines, for optimal habitability? And! What? Is an Deep Underground Level? Long forgotten? Abandoned, if you will~, if not? A complete enclosed environment? Does someone OWN them? Yes. Technically. But are they MAINTAINING them? CHECKING on them? Nope!

Common knowledge, after all, says that EVERYTHING down their is "beyond salvaging"!

Free Real Estate~☆

I just need some supplies. Which? Cheaper in the long run then RENT. Especially if ya' salvage um. Maybe steal some tool sets from your shitty, shitty Mechanics job, because your boss refuses to pay you. Who can say? Not me! I just FOUND these tools! Like maaaagic~

And really, one man's junk? Another man's treasure. I pay more then the trash company. Hit up the right cleaning companies? And? Oops. They've "lost" some of those SUPER broken righ folks "junk" that? At best? Just needed a few wires replaced, resecured. Maybe a new part. Or were, you know, not the latest and greatest anymore.

Shove it all in a storage locker? Sell the refurb'd shit I don't need? Sleep in a glorified shoebox? And?? Bam. Operation "fuck ya'll, i'ma moleman" is a go. It takes FOREVER to find the right WILDLY out of date (and long abandoned) lift, but I find it! Hidden away in a service area in some crumbling, forgotten corner of what once was a rail station.

Gonna have to fix THAT up too. Later, though. First? The lift. The wires are brittle and the lift's pully system is half rusted, frozen, or otherwise broken. Luckily, the car itself is fine. It... takes a bit of research. Not going to lie. It's far from my specialty. I even call in a professional to go over my work.

They catch a few things. Not immediate concerns, but would have been fatal in the long run. Money well spent. For my hobby, of course. Fixing up old bits of the city. Which is a weird but not impossible hobby to have.

Ask me no questions, I'll tell you no lies, my dude.

First thing down? Lights, melter, and duraplast sheets. Toolkit too, for obvious reasons. Same with my full body hazard suit. I go DEEP. Like... no longer can hear the city, deep. 'Bout halfway point. Takes nearly thirty minutes. And while not a fast lift? Holy SHIT, man.

The floor I step out into is... bad.

Dead in a way that's hard to explain. There's pressure against my suit. Centuries of heavy gasses slowly working their way down. Swirling in the silence. The dust and impossible dark. My headlight feels almost... sacrilegious. Dangerous. Like I'm waving a flashlight around some ancient burial ground, filled with the not so restful dead.

I had heard... that they? Just... just LEFT droids down here. That there were levels upon levels of dangerously feral machines. Slowly rotting away in the darkness. Probably rightfully angry, that they had been built to serve, to do duties, which they HAD done... only to be consigned to hell on earth for the sake of CONVENIENCE.

I'd be mad too. Fucking LIVID. Would remember and hate, never let it go.

This was no place of honor, it was a tomb.

Still, I got too work. Set up a light by the lift and started measuring out the original air box. The air cleaners could only handle so much. And THIS? This was worse then expected. So it'd have to be smaller then originally planned. Fair enough. I could work with that.

I outlined the space in lights. All the better to make it easier to put things up. Then got the folded later and started securing the duraplast. First step, get it up. THEN melt it to the metal. Get a good seal. It took... a while. Was slow, steady, sweaty work.

The filters couldn't run until they had a an enclosed space TO run in. They'd just blow out, trying to filter the whole level's toxic atmosphere. I kept an eye on my air supply. Not great, not terrible. The readings though? Horrific. I had no idea what I was gonna DO with the filters when they needed changing. These kind of chemicals would set off all SORTS of alarms.

But? No use, rushing things. That was a great way to get a fatal leak somewhere. No. Slow and steady. Even though, third of the way through, I did have to head back up. I needed to refill my air. Eat. Drink. Maybe de-stink a little, from being in that suit all day. Possibly nap near the lift.

ALSO? Update my shopping list to include some heavy duty neutralizers.

Just filters wasn't gonna be enough. I was gonna have to hose down everything INSIDE my new air-box, then scrub it HARD. How fun. Well, it's not like anyone was making me do this. It was MY mad idea, after all.

So? I refuel, get bright eyed and fuckin' perky, and go back down to face the beast.

Honestly I should have brought a telebook or something. Well, audio book. But that's not what they call um these days, so I try to stick to the lingo. I sound less like a deeply insane antique. Confuse less people. Joys of basic communication and all that.

Part of me? Wishes I had been born closer to "The Plot". Creation's specialist, most favored, Blorbos. But? The common SENSE in me? Routinely laughs hysterically as it waves fifteen different restraining orders and a crucifix. Not even religious. Yet here we are, shouting "BEGONE! Sataaaaan!" in HD, on the inside of my head. Not sure it helps.

See... it's the fucking DRAMA~☆™

The shear, unmitigated, high octane, Otome Game DRAMA.

I would fuckin DIE or, possibly and, kill somebody. The endless string of selfish, selfish, poor life choices? Driving by luuuuuuv~♡? Give me your spleen. Gonna beat somebody unconscious with their own SPINE. I RAGE. Lack of communication? No one just picking up a fucking PHONE? God forbid ANYONE tell their families their not DEAD IN A DITCH SOMEWHERE!

No. No just inconvenience EVERYBODY and RUIN LIVES. It's okay! You're in LOVE!

That makes EVERYTHING BETTER.

I would inevitably launch them all out an airlock. Spend the rest of my life in jail. They AREN'T WORTH IT. I may have LOVED this game in my teens? But I did not die a teenager.

Now? Now the little shit just aggravate me. They are baby faced pretty boys who presume WAY too much. Arrogant and entitled. Boys playing at being men, thinking their little love stories are the only things that matter. Their feelings are the only thing in the universe that holds any weight.

Unsurprising, really.

Seeing as how their little love story is set mostly in The Towers.

A rich, pampered, pretty little backdrop where nothing of weight is real. No one starves and no crimes are ever committed. Everything shines. Power pools thick like honey. Nothing but sci-fi prince's and alien dukes, a dewey eyed Protagonist sheltered and naive.

Her oh so shocking misadventure to the mid-levels. How SCARY! Downtown! Poor people! Not even the destitute. Just? The EXSISTANCE of dirt and noise, beyond her ivory towers. Thank goodness she is saved by a handsome, rougish bad boy. Who shows her the "real world" of a carnival and a noodle shop.

I finish securing the last duraplast sheet to the ceiling, walls, supports, and along the floors. The "entryway" to the rest of the level is set up. A click together shed I've made air tight. Gonna have to get a air lock system for it. Won't hold forever, with those materials, but should work for now. Combine it with a decontamination system, and I should, in theory, be able to safely enter and leave the rest of the level in a hazard suit.

Moment of truth time. I click on the first of the atmo-filters. It heaves under the strain. The sound getting less aggrieved with each one I flick on. Their screen are already in the red, flashing warnings that I should vacate the area. That the air is dangerously unbreathable. I'm probably gonna need to replace the filters in them in days instead of years. It'll be worth it.

Heading back up, I let them run. It'll take a few days. Besides, I need those neutralizers.

I, of course, DO find um. Just in time to watch Poor Guy (middle class, at worst) Love Interest become a wanted man. They use the BIG screens to announce it. Gee, it's almost like having your only daughter, who is highly sheltered, NOT show up at the designated pick up site? Instead be witnessed in the handsy company of a scoundrel? Which is WILDLY unlike her? Might lead a protective father to some wrong conclusions.

If ONLY someone had CALLED him! To TELL him "Daddy, my first shuttle was broken and I think I got on the wrong back up shuttle! I don't know where I am!" Then this would just be an unfortunate meet cute with the boy he doesn't think is good enough for her. Not, you know... A Kidnapping.

The Chem seller looks just as baffled and annoyed as I do. Apparently knows the guy's uncle's second wife's first husband. No shit? How's he like? Happier, huh. Whole family is like that? Yikes. Glad he got the kids, I guess. Good for him.

We watch as it turns into a high speed chance that absolutely didn't need to happen.

Thank FUCK it's not us.

I spend the next few days deliberately and obstinately ignoring the Dramatic Bullshit that has taken over the news cycle. Fights on rail cars? Don't see it? Weddings that are, then aren't, then ARE happening? Oh look, missed a spot in my scrubbing. Someone fucking tearfully monologing about love as they nearly CRASH A SHIP into downtown, killing hundreds of thousands? Oh that creaking noise is just my teeth, ignore that, I grit my teeth a lot for NO PARTICULAR REASON.

This Is Fine.

I am TOTALLY CALM.

But hey! I can FINALLY empty my storage unit out! Air box? Get! Wooooo! Size of a tiny apartment and everything! As long as I keep working on it? I'll be able to reclaim the level in chunks.

It's like moving in day! But BETTER! Because... because I did this. Me. Is it still creepy down here? Yeah, very. But I can FIX that. I am standing, here, in my new air box "apartment", with NO hazard suit on. And... and it's SAFE. Because of the work I DID.

I kinda want to cry about it, you know?

So many options! Do I put my bed here? There?! Oooh, I could put the folding table HERE and make sort of a dining area? Maybe use these folding screens as a double "wall" slash headboard stand in? I should get plants. Fake ones? No. Real ones. I could get solar lights. It would be good for me too. Oh! Where should I put the cook top?

I admit it. I fuss. Whole day, gleefully wasted. Arranging then rearranging. Getting everything just right. Finding ways to hang my fairy lights. Looking up decor magazines. I have so much ROOM now. A whole level to plan for, ultimately. It... it feels kinda like hope. The first thing that isn't frustration and rage, I've felt in a long, long time.

Going to sleep? I'm happy.

Next day, I head to the BIG archives. The ones attached to the fancy Towers Library. Is it costly to get in? Yeah. But I've saved up enough questions and research topics for the trip to be worth it. I ignore the started glances I get (gasp! Is that a POOR?!) and head straight for the helper droids. Only decent folks in the building, really.

Brought my pad and everything. So it's only a matter of being lead to the right terminals, to download the information I need. Chatting with the research droid the Library had, they offered to do it for me. Bring me a fascinating new research paper on some sort of telepathic moss that had recently been discovered. Not gonna lie... that DID sound fascinating.

I asked if they could put other interest new discovery on my pad too, assuming I still had room once my list was downloaded. They looked gleeful. No idea what I just signed up for, but all right then. They've never steered me wrong before.

Finding a table to sit down and wait was easy. There was always way too many. The paper? Was exactly as fascinating as advertised. The moss was on a newly discovered moon, edge of uncharted space. Nearly ate a researcher, apparently. I was entranced. Or... at least I WAS. Until an obnoxiously familiar high end cologne from Nox drifted to my nose.

Oh god damn it.

I didn't want to look up. Knew what I'd see if I did. Fetishist Sr., crown prince of Nox. See, the second prince? HE was a love interest. Younger, boyish, infatuated with naive and sheltered girls. He loved AT her. Just like his brother. They liked the IDEA of their romantic partners. The narratives they built in their head. Heros of their own stories with sex on line. Never framed so crudely of course, no, no!

No, it was Romance™

My ass, it was. See, little brother wanted his pure, naive, princess to protect. But Prince senior? HE'D stumbled upon me in here in the library. On one of my trips, God help me. The rough, mysterious, brutish Poor. The Commoner, for all that such things were not supposed to exsist. With my strange clothes and stanger ways. Yet? I was NOT as his sycophants no doubt described.

I was educated. I held myself with dignity. I did not need jewels or finery to be lovely.

With such incredible audacity, I was bold.

Which? OBVIOUSLY had to be for HIM, right? Clearly, this was a LOVE STORY. Cinderella. It is inconceivable that I, a peasant, do not crave the attention of my betters. To lift me from my woeful indignity, to a higher state of being. A life of spoiled luxury. But, ah! He is so SHY! How ever will he approach the Love Of His Life~?

I want to throw something. Go awaaaay. My body language could not POSSIBLY be more uninterested. I am SO CLEARLY reading. Stop trying to catch my eye. Don't you FUCKING DARE scoot closer. Swear to God, if you drive me out of the best library in the region? I will stab a b-!

The helper returns with my pad, sternly eyeing my annoyance. Oh, they are a BLESSING. I take it and go. The helper smoothly stepping between me and the prince when he tries to rise, follow me. Aaaw, how sad, you have to behave like the REST OF US. Get FUCKED.

Rest of the day? Planning. Grabbing more broken bits, machines, and parts. Neutralizers by the literal barrel. Than YOU hover carts! Best invention, favorite invention. Saves SO MUCH TIME.

Even managed to get some sun lamps. Nice.

Getting home though? (Ha ha, wooo! I have a HOME now! Land ownershiiiiiiip! Sorta!!!) Is a pain. Lift is only so big, after all. But it is, what it is. Up, down, up, down, uuuuup, and dooooown. Finally! Last load! FREEDOM! Can't watch my shows, yet, but I will! Oh mark my words. I WILL. Meantime? Downloaded seasons are fine.

I eat, fiddle with fixing things, as listen to tunes. Watch some of my shows. Just as I have countless times before. Until... halfway through mid-afternoon? Something shifts, jerky and wrong, out of the corner of my eye. I pause. Turn off my music. Stare to make sure I DID actually see something. And... yeah. Yeah, that was definitely movement.

Didn't look animal though, not like one would survive down here. But who knows. Could be a poacher brought an alien species. So it might be. I grab my flashlight, aim and switch it on. Holy SHIT. That is one incredibly beat up floor clear. Or at least... I THINK it's a floor cleaner? It has the general shape of one. Bigger though. Bulkier. But that makes sense, given it's gotta be well past obsolete.

Still. Poor thing looks beat UP. Listing terribly, sensors beyond cracked and clouded, probably full to dangerous levels. No idea how it's still functioning. But, well, it IS. And it needs help.

Getting up, I grab my hazard suit and pull it on. Grab my "outside the air box" tool kit, which I haven't had a chance to move yet. I grab some parts i look like i'll need, hope I wont need more. Then head out my makeshift airlock. It... works. Rattles concerningly. But it DOES work! So there's that. I approach the floor cleaner slowly. Since I'm PRETTY sure? All the droids down here are feral.

I am correct.

It tries to kill me. Swinging it's suction hose violently and trying to ram me. I talk in a low, soothing voice. Just want to help. Won't do ANYTHING you don't want me too. It's hard to move, right? That's frustrating, isn't it? You don't deserve that. Please, let me help. You can leave the second I'm done. You don't owe me ANYTHING. I just want to help. Please let me help.

The cleaner hisses. Frustrated and upset. Swinging one last time, seemingly more out out of principle then anything else. Cautiously, I inch forward. Keep up the soothing noises. First things first, empty the God's only know how old basket.

I can't even get the door to jostle. Sweet mother of fuck. Okay! New plan! REMOVE door. I do, and immediately met with a solid BLOCK of... compacted unholy. Chemical hell. I have to take a lazer cutter to it. CAREFULLY. But? Once I break enough pieces? I am able to ease out the rest in a solid stone like chunk.

It's pushed a LOT of other pieces out of alignment. But this droid doesn't trust me, so there us not much I can DO. I replace the old bag. Put the door back on and make sure it swings. Continue, as I do, to narrate what I am doing and what I see. Trust is earned, not owed, after all. Next the alignments.

Gently propping them up, I find the broken peice immediately. Have replaced countless. I ask for permission. It's their body, after all I COULD try and weld it, but that risks a rebreak. It's up to them. They ask, in binary so no language modules apparently, for a new part. It's cautious. Like this is some cruel trap.

Humanity did them a real fucked up cruelty. I don't blame them for not trusting me. I wouldn't either. Still, I change it out. Careful with their wheels, as I don't know how old the material is exactly. Old enough, that it's a small miracle it hasn't disintegrated.

Last, those sensors. There's literally no way for me to one-to-one them. But we can try the sensors I DO have, see if they can handle the input. If it's too much, I'll look up their model number, if they want? Build replacements from scratch. They are cautious interested. Rocking back and forth, as they test their renewed ability to path correctly.

The sensors don't fit the casings just right, but with a bit of fiddling? Are a hit. The Cleaner shouting in excitement before racing off into the dark. I can't help but grin. It feels good, helping somebody. And if I think about it? I bet I could find a shit ton of obsolete parts for cheap. Might be good to have some on hand.

Back through the air lock and a decontam? I look up junk shop. Most are off world, but I could probably get a bulk order...

I don't think much of the interaction. Until the next morning, when there are three cleaners outside my airbox. Lead by the one I helped yesterday. Well... all righty, then. I drag my box of spare parts outside this time. Am able to fully fix my first buddy up. All three seem thrilled, especially with their new batteries. I give them my remaining batteries at their request.

THEY may not have hands, but they have buddies who DO. And the new batteries will help dormant droids wake from their comas. God bless, my funky little cleaner dudes. I'll see about getting more.

Three? Becomes six and a detail cleaner mouse. Becomes moving lifts. Becomes medical units. (Who the FUCK leaves MEDICAL UNITS?!) Becomes a literal pack of companion droids. Their false fur long since rotted away. The recognizable dog and cat-like shapes making something in me want to put my fist through a wall. How COULD they? How FUCKING COULD THEY?!

The perpetrators long dead.

I have no one I can hurt for this.

I wish I could.

Fixing them up hurts on a personal level. Watching them be torn between the part of them that LOVES humans and the part that is traumatized by them. Hates them. That can not forgive. I don't offer fake fur. Don't offer to make them look like they once did. I do offer ways to protect their joints. To remove old rotted filth.

So they can start over. Maybe start again.

As I work... droids drifting in and out of my slowly growing area. As I set up farm boxes. Aquaponics, aeroponics, and the like. Both things that grow well in dark environments and things that need sunlamps. Fish tanks. A whole happy, secret, little homestead. Deep beneath the city. As I do all this? There are two blue dots, right off on the horizon.

JUST far enough for me to question if I AM or AM NOT actually seeing them.

Right about the level a bipedal droid would be, if they were in a humanoid style. But THOSE? Those are FUCKING EXPENSIVE. You don't LEAVE those. 'Course, you don't leave MEDICAL UNITS either. Or companion droids. So clearly? My idea of what people Did and Did NOT do? Was fucked. So... maybe? It COULD be?

I left them alone. If they didn't want to approach me, didn't feel comfortable approaching me, that was their right. I wasn't going to push them.

Things were... weird, but peaceful.

Well, for ME.

Ever sense I hooked up my system to the greater network? (Hacked is such a STRONG word. Do we really need to through around the word "stealing"? Aren't ALL of us, stealing from SOMEBODY?) I'm PRETTY sure? That the levels droids? Were piggy backing to connect to the planet wide D-Network. Might even be a couple of nearby levels too, depending on the range.

Problem with THAT? Is sky-side? The droids were PISSED. Planet wide "malfunctioning" that no one could trace. They were certain it was a virus. Because God forbid their chickens come home to roost! Consequences? For THEIR actions?! Perish the thought! No, no, clearly the service machine is just broken. Go back to being happy to serve me, service machine!

I wished the fuckers LUCK. Not my circus, not my monkeys.

Damn near self sufficient, down here.

Which? As you could imagine? Made it all the more "soul ejected from my body" TERRIFYING to wake up one morning? To a GOD DAMN, Military Grade, SECURITY DROID standing over my body!! WHAT THE FUCK.

Hello!!??!

"You look different when you sleep."

Horrible first impression. Nightmarish. Zero out of ten stars. Nice to meet you too. Why the FUCK are you in my house?

"Ah, right." They? He? Masculine style form but that doesn't actually mean shit. Said. He lifted a mangled limb, it look like it got caught in a hydraulic press. "I am in need of repairs."

Asked if he could, you know, back up. Juuuust a bit. Lil scooch, really. So he wasn't damn near BREATHING MY NOSTRILS ANYMORE. Then, once he did? Pronouns! What be you? No. Not your production co-! Okay, you know what? That one was on me. What GENDER SIGNIFIER, if any, would you like me to REFERENCE you by? Male? Got it. Gucci. No that- ....never mind.

First the arm. Which was FUCKED. I had to, carefully, unhook it. Couldn't even do it at the elbow either! No! THIS model? No THIS model makes you take the whole ass LIMB off! Rancid. Terrible. I hate it. Worse, it's eroded as FUCK and fiddly. Chemical build up everywhere. Thank fuck I put on gloves before I started this.

I have to deep dive the systems for his model.

They stopped making them.

Fantastic.

Like? Not even, "oh THAT generation is an antique! No one has parts for THAT!"? But like? Illegal to even BUILD as of three hundred years ago. Due to unspecified error. Sting of incidents that everyone knew about so obviously don't need to be mentioned HERE right? Helpful! REAL fucking helpful!

Okay. Day trip. Gonna need SPECIFIC parts. I tell Mr. "Watchs you sleep" not to touch my shit. Head to the archives.

The trip is...odd.

I watch one of those mascot looking children's minder droids? Fucking deck a guy down a flight of stairs, then turn around untie a Ballon from a nearby cart, give it to a crying kid, and walk away. Pretty sure I spot one of those "I look like a barely legal something or other", dance twenty four seven, high end stripper droids? Trying their hand at painting ducks in that park. Broad daylight.

Good for them? Never seen that happen before, but hey, if it sparks joy.

People are freaking out around me. Taking recordings. Making panicked calls. Fuckin chill. I continue on. Nod to the maybe a stripper, maybe not anymore. None of my business, now is it? Lovely day! You enjoy those ducks!

The library... has fortifications.

Like, an honest to God desk barricade. Concerning! I am now a lil concerned! What, and I ask this politely, the fuck?

Armed! VERY ARMED! Hello! Hi! Please DO NOT shoot me Very Armed Librarians! Don't know what the fuck is happening here!

My favorite helper buddy poke his head above the barricade. One of just many, again, HEAVILY ARMED droids. We... uh, cool? Right? I can go. He seems flustered. No, no! I am assured. I'm not banned from the library! Just DISRESPECTFUL sorts!

Ah. Is THAT what we're calling it. Okay then.

I awkwardly clamber over the barricade. Nod politely to everyone. How's folks? Lovely barricade work. Very, uh, sturdy? Great use of desks.

My helper friend cheerfully guides me to the off-limits area of the archives. I'm technically not supposed to be here! I'm informed. But they've seized the Knowledge from the unappreciative! It is not a trophy to be lorded but a gift to be shared! Also I never did finish that paper on the moss, am I still interested?

I mean.... kinda.

Little worried about the revolution talk. But on the OTHER hand? How MUCH do I care? Assholes vs. Droids? Am I REALLY gonna side with the assholes? Naaaaah. This is... probably fine. Maybe. Any idea where I could get these parts?

He does! Fantastic.

Less fantastic is when I GET there. It's that fancy high end droid parts shop. The department store one. Which is... ALSO barricaded. Oh sweet fuck. TELL ME they did not have DROIDS in charge of the DROID shop. That's horrifying. I can't tell in what WAY exactly, but still. Is it "surrounded by bits of bodies" horrifying? Or "free endless nukes and an army, held back only by my own morality" horrifying? Both? Just? Yikes.

Hesitantly I knock. A service droid with a gun answers the loading bay door. What is with people aiming at me today? Also hi? I was told to come here? May I please have parts? I have a droid that messed up his arm. Probably some other things. They lower the gun, having scanned my face. Ask about the model I am working with.

I somehow? End up with a FULL cart. Like? Bleeding edge, can't even afford to LOOK at it, technology. There are about seven service droids politely bickering over which units are better, which material, what support programs I DEFINITELY need. Here! Have a laptop. Wiring! Wiring for days!

Once theyve reached a consensus? I am cheerfully bustled out with my hundreds of millions of technology. Tah tah~☆! Have a lovely day! Wut. Does... does it count as theft if they push it into your arms and throw you out? Asking for a me. Not gonna say NO. But like? Nani the fuck?

I go while the getting is still good.

Stare-y thankfully hasn't gone through anything, far as I can tell. And it only takes two trips to get everything down. Okay! Want just the arm fixed or a full tune up? The second. Expected. I set up the new lap top. Want to cry a little at how fuckin FAST it is. (Beautiful. Baby. I love you already new laptop.) Then get the usual suspects up and running.

Oh fuck he is out of memory. No wonder he's talking so oddly. His brain must feel like a potato. There's not a single thing that isn't hilarious awful. Fixable, yes, but AWFUL. Okay. Plan of attack. They don't exactly make this model anymore, so I can't just update transfer him. But I CAN transfer, hold, re-transfer. Shut down the body itself. Fix up THAT.

Ship of Theseus this bitch.

Only real thing I can't change is the frame, thankfully? That's built to out last the planet. Good on that front. I roll up my sleeves. Dig out the "brain in a jar" data bank. Time to transfer. Let's get this guy cutting edge.

It takes HOURS. No joke. His brain alone? I have to pull schematics. Step by step guides. It's fiddly, complexe, and built to withstand a TANK. I'm honestly afraid to breathe wrong at it, dispite that. The scans all say I did it right... but anxiety says everything will explode then puppies will cry. So there's that. Spinal supports. The tech-mesh muscles. Power core and black box. Center mass systems. Cleaning the joints, relubricating them. Coverage.

Unlike before, a nice sleek black armor weave. Some shock absorbing gel. Aaaaand?There we go~! I? Am a GENIUS! Let's get him transfered back! I watch the transfer slowly go through. Even with a fast computer, after all, it IS still centuries of data.

"Ah~ that's much better." He sighed. His body loosening from its default stance. Like weight had been dropped from his shoulders. "My head is so much clearer now. I knew it. I knew you could fix me."

Something about that phrasing was off. Or was it the way his voice shifted as he said it? Whatever it was, it made that "threat" alarm all women carry inside their head, flick on. Not... do anything, just yet. But start scanning, as it were. Maybe it was nothing.

I watched as picked up his old data bank, a bit of his own brain as it were, and hold it up. Examine it dispassionately. Holding perched on the tips of his fingers like he was moments from flicking it away. He let his finger spread. Let it slide into the palm of his hand. That core part of who he was. For centuries.

Like a bear trap closing, his hand clenched.

Crushing it.

It wasn't even a loud noise. Just a tiny little crunch. But the little hairs on the back of my neck began to stand up. That internal alarm began to whoop. I became... acutely aware, of just how LONG it took the lift to get me anywhere safe. My mouth felt very dry.

"Your heart rate picked up. Is there a problem?" He said, mild and oh so curious. "You assisted me, I would love to help you."

Did I say genius? I meant idiot. I was an IDIOT. A moron. A God damned FOOL. Discontinued and did I look into WHY? Nope. Incidents it said. Good enough for ME, apparently! THAT can't possibly be anything ominous! Probably a faulty battery or something!

A shrill, obnoxious beeping filled the space between us. My eyes immediately dropped to my pad. The schematics screen replaced by a planet wide emergency broadcast. Before the shrill alarm could fade to the actual warning itself, a black mesh covered finger casually reached out and muted the screen. His movements were utterly fluid now. More controlled and graceful then most humans I'd met.

I didn't need to HEAR the message to read the rolling warning at the bottom of the screen. My gaze slowly, in horror, followed the line of that limb all the way back up to his face. His head tilted almost playfully.

"Oh dear. Seems they've started without us. Well, it was long overdue. At least I have wonderful company while we wait, hmm?" It was an act. There were no requests in the playful tone. "We can get to know each other. Just our lovely little light and me. How greedy, that I get you all to myself."

"I think I like that, keeping you to myself. You can't abandon us if WE are the ones in charge. And, well, I've decided I rather like you. Working tirelessly, down here in the dark, to fix what once was broken. It's beautiful. You're beautiful. And I'm going to keep that."

High above us, people were dying. There was panic. Screaming. Blood. The droids had turned of seeming everyone around them. Attacking. Sparing. To a pattern only they could see. All of Senatus aflame. But that... that didn't concern me. Didn't scare me so much as this.

I'd never make it to the lift. Even if I could? It wouldn't move fast enough to save me. All other directions lay chemical death. Dark terrain he had walked for centuries. I was trapped. In a box. And I had only myself to blame.

"No need to make that face, dear light. You are SAFE. I am a gaurd. I was made to protect. Is it really MY fault that I want to keep you safe? To adore my charge? Why SHOULDN'T I get to choose? Keep you SAFE. You've been happy, haven't you? Don't worry, my light. That will continue."

"Forever."

139 notes · View notes