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halosdiary · 19 days ago

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West Coast Shotgun | Stoner!Choso x Reader | 呪術廻戦

a/n: sorry for the inactivity, I'll post more of my kinktober stuff later on this week, but this one in particular is for my birthday. 🎂

wc: 2.2k

contains: weed usage, kissing, stoner shenanigans.

Choso was the definition of laid-back. With his messy hair, half-lidded eyes, and a perpetual calmness that made the world seem like it was moving just a bit slower around him, he was an easy-going soul. He had a reputation around town for always being chill, always having a joint handy, and always being up for an adventure, no matter how random or ridiculous.

And that’s how you found yourself falling for him. You didn’t think much of it at first — just a friend of a friend you’d hang out with from time to time. But there was something about the way he saw the world, the way he could turn the most mundane of moments into something unforgettable, that made you want to spend more and more time with him.

One evening, the two of you were lounging at his place, the air thick with the scent of weed and incense. You’d started watching a movie, but halfway through, neither of you were paying attention. Instead, you were laughing about something stupid — maybe the way Choso had tried (and failed) to make popcorn in the microwave, resulting in a blackened, inedible mess.

He took a long drag from the joint and passed it to you, his lips curling into that familiar lopsided grin.

“What do you want to do tonight?”

You exhaled, the smoke swirling lazily in the dim light.

“I dunno, something fun? Something… random.”

Choso’s eyes lit up. “Say no more.”

In typical Choso fashion, "random" turned into an impromptu late-night grocery store trip — but not for anything practical. No, the two of you spent the next half-hour wandering the aisles, giggling as you grabbed the most absurd combinations of items you could find. Marshmallows? Check. Frozen waffles? Check. A 10-pound bag of rice for no reason whatsoever? Of course.

As you walked through the aisles, Choso pointed at a box of cereal with cartoon characters on the front and gasped dramatically.

“I used to love this stuff,” he said, grabbing the box. “We’re definitely getting it.”

You laughed, knowing full well you had no intention of eating any of it, but that wasn’t the point. This was about the experience — about the shenanigans.

Back at Choso’s place, the two of you dumped your spoils on the living room floor and set about creating the most chaotic snack spread you’d ever seen. He mixed the cereal with marshmallows and pretzels, while you tried (and failed) to make waffle sandwiches with peanut butter and bananas.

It was all a mess — an absolute disaster of mismatched flavors and weird textures — but you didn’t care. You were both sitting on the floor, surrounded by the aftermath of your culinary chaos, laughing so hard your stomach hurt. Choso had that blissed-out, carefree smile that made you feel like everything was right with the world.

At some point, between bites of a particularly awful combination of marshmallows and rice crackers, Choso leaned over and brushed a stray piece of hair out of your face. His hand lingered for a moment, his thumb gently grazing your cheek, and for the first time that night, the laughter died down.

“You’re kind of amazing, you know that?” he said, his voice low and warm.

There was a sincerity in his words that caught you off guard. Choso wasn’t usually the type to get all sentimental — he preferred to show how he felt in quieter, subtler ways. But in that moment, with his red-rimmed eyes and soft smile, you could see that he meant it.

Your heart skipped a beat as you met his gaze, feeling the warmth in his touch, the ease in the way he was with you.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” you replied, grinning as you leaned into his hand.

He leaned in, and the next thing you knew, his lips were on yours, soft and tasting faintly of the marshmallow mix you’d been snacking on. The kiss was slow and lazy, just like everything about him, but there was something more behind it — something deeper.

When he pulled away, you both sat there for a moment, a comfortable silence falling between you. The world outside could’ve been spinning out of control, but with Choso, it always felt like you had all the time in the world.

“So,” he said after a while, his voice teasing, “ready for round two of our gourmet experiment?”

You groaned, playfully swatting his arm. “Only if you promise not to make me eat any more of your weird creations.”

He laughed, pulling you into his arms. “Deal. But no promises about the next adventure.”

With Choso, you knew there would always be another adventure — another wild, unpredictable night of shenanigans. And you couldn’t wait.

The evening continued to spiral into delightful chaos as you and Choso sat cross-legged on his living room floor, surrounded by the remnants of your grocery store loot. Your snack creations had grown increasingly ridiculous, with neither of you caring about how they tasted anymore. It was more about the fun, the banter, and the easy flow of laughter that bounced between the two of you.

“Alright, hear me out,” Choso said, his eyes gleaming with mischief as he held up a frozen waffle. “What if… I dip this in chocolate milk?”

You raised an eyebrow, trying to hold back a laugh. “Choso, that’s… actually disgusting.”

“Disgustingly genius,” he corrected, dipping the waffle into the glass with zero hesitation. He took a bite, his face scrunching up immediately. “Okay, maybe not my best idea.”

You burst out laughing, clutching your stomach as Choso grimaced, chewing through the soggy waffle. He was shameless, as always, and you loved that about him. He didn’t care if things went wrong or if something was ridiculous — he just lived in the moment, fully embracing whatever madness came his way.

Still giggling, you threw a marshmallow at him. It hit his chest, bouncing off and landing in his lap. “You’re unbelievable.”

Choso smiled lazily, his eyes soft as he looked at you. “But you like it.”

You paused for a moment, your heart skipping just a little. He wasn’t wrong. In fact, he was the exact kind of unbelievable that you’d grown to adore. With Choso, everything felt lighter, easier, like life didn’t have to be so serious all the time.

“Maybe I do,” you teased back, though your voice was a little quieter, a little more sincere. You could feel the atmosphere shifting, the laughter giving way to something warmer, deeper. The comfortable silence that followed was charged with a new energy, one that made your pulse quicken in a way you hadn’t quite expected.

Choso leaned back on his hands, gazing at you with that relaxed but focused look he sometimes got when the world around him seemed to fade. “You know, I’ve never met anyone like you. You just… get me.”

You blinked, caught off guard by his words. He wasn’t usually one to talk about feelings directly, preferring to express himself in small gestures, in moments of shared silence or laughter. But now, his voice was soft, serious even, and it sent a warmth spreading through your chest.

“Well, you’re not exactly hard to understand,” you said, trying to lighten the mood, but your voice betrayed you. There was a tenderness in the air that you couldn’t deny.

Choso smiled, the corners of his lips lifting just slightly, and for a moment, neither of you said anything. You watched him, the way the dim light cast shadows across his face, the way his dark hair fell into his eyes, the way he looked at you like there was no one else in the world.

He leaned in just a little, his voice soft but teasing. “You sure about that? Because I’m kind of a mystery.”

You laughed, the tension easing, but it was still there, simmering just beneath the surface. “Oh yeah? A mystery wrapped in… what, a cloud of smoke?”

He grinned, his eyes twinkling. “Exactly.”

There was a pause then, one that stretched just a little too long, and your heart began to race. You weren’t sure who moved first — maybe it was him, maybe it was you — but suddenly the space between you felt smaller, closer. You could see the way his gaze flickered down to your lips for just a second before meeting your eyes again, a question lingering there.

The world around you seemed to blur, the silly snacks, the laughter, the mess of the evening fading into the background. All that was left was Choso, sitting so close you could feel the warmth radiating off him, the smell of incense and weed hanging in the air.

“Choso…” you began, but your voice trailed off as he leaned in, his hand reaching up to gently brush a strand of hair behind your ear. His touch was light, almost hesitant, as if testing the waters.

And then, before you could think or say anything more, his lips were on yours.

The kiss was soft, unhurried, like everything with Choso. His lips tasted faintly of chocolate and something else, something that was just him. It wasn’t rushed or intense, but it was filled with warmth, with the easygoing affection that defined him. His hand cupped the side of your face, thumb brushing lightly against your cheek as he kissed you slowly, like there was no hurry, no pressure.

You melted into it, your hands finding their way to his shoulders, feeling the tension of the moment dissolve into something entirely different — something tender, something that had been building between you for a while now, even if neither of you had spoken it aloud.

When he finally pulled away, his forehead rested against yours, and the two of you stayed like that for a moment, your breaths mingling in the quiet of the room. His eyes were still closed, and a soft smile tugged at his lips.

“Finally,” he murmured, his voice low and amused. “I’ve been wanting to do that for a while.”

Your heart was still racing, but you smiled, brushing your fingers against the back of his neck. “So have I.”

Choso chuckled, pulling you a little closer, his arms wrapping around your waist as you leaned into him, the two of you sitting there in the middle of your chaotic snack spread, tangled together in the warmth of the moment.

The two of you stayed like that for a while, wrapped in each other's arms, the chaos of the night forgotten as the warmth of the moment lingered. Choso’s fingers traced lazy circles on your back, his steady breathing lulling you into a state of blissful calm.

“You know,” he mumbled, his voice soft and a little sleepy, “I think we make a pretty good team.”

You smiled against his chest, feeling the rise and fall of his breath beneath you. “Oh yeah? You think our marshmallow-waffle disaster says something profound about us?”

He chuckled, the sound rumbling through his body. “Nah, not the food. I just mean… everything. We just work, you know?”

And he was right. Somehow, in all the randomness and ridiculousness that came with being around Choso, everything felt natural, easy. Even in the messes — both literal and figurative — there was a sense of comfort you’d never really had with anyone else.

You shifted so you could look up at him, your hand resting against his chest. His half-lidded eyes met yours, and there was something so genuine, so real in the way he looked at you. “Yeah, we do,” you agreed softly, letting the words settle between you.

For a moment, the two of you just stared at each other, the world outside irrelevant. Everything that mattered was right here, in this simple, quiet moment. Choso's hand came up to gently run through your hair, and you closed your eyes, savoring the tenderness in his touch.

Eventually, he leaned down to press a soft kiss to your forehead before resting his chin on top of your head. “Let’s do this more often,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

You smiled against him. “What, make disastrous snacks?”

He laughed quietly. “No, idiot. Just… this. You and me. Whatever happens, wherever we end up.” There was a vulnerability in his tone that caught you off guard — a rare glimpse into the part of Choso that wasn’t always so easygoing and carefree.

Your heart swelled at his words, and you snuggled closer to him, feeling a sense of peace you hadn’t even realized you’d been searching for. “Yeah,” you whispered, closing your eyes. “I’d like that.”

The rest of the night passed in a contented haze. You stayed curled up together, talking about everything and nothing at all, your hands tangled together as if you’d been holding onto each other forever.

Eventually, you both drifted off to sleep, the chaos of your snack adventure still scattered around the room, but neither of you cared. Because, in that moment, you had everything you needed.

And maybe that was the thing about Choso. Life with him wasn’t about grand gestures or perfectly planned moments. It was about the little things — the laughter, the shenanigans, the quiet moments shared between the chaos. It was messy, and unexpected, and sometimes ridiculous.

But it was real. And it was yours.

And as you fell asleep in his arms, you knew that whatever came next, you and Choso would face it together, with the same laid-back attitude and the same goofy smile that made everything feel right in the world.

TAGLIST: @ryomens-vixen @littlemochabunni @blkkizzat @buttercupblu143 @lowkeyremi @yung-notorious @arlerts-angel @honeeslust @nkogneatho @hoshigray

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #halo's writings #choso #choso kamo #呪術廻戦 #choso x you #choso x reader

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cheeseplants · 6 months ago

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Writer’s Guild Presents: The Ecstasy of Eden: Chapter two

Welcome to the 6th Century.

Things are hotting up for round two of sex pollen through the ages.

Includes: banter, bed humping, sexy armour removal, Aziraphale getting his dom on, and of course pining

CW/TW: Sex pollen (obvs), dubcon (though it’s very consensual), dom/sub dynamics, orgasm edging/control, kind of undernegotiated kink, but they do talk about it.

The incredible illustrious_slimeman made some wonderful art for this chapter! Visit their tumblr for more amazing arts here.

Read from chapter two here Or start from the beginning here

Excerpt

“I - Crowley, we’re afflicted.” He swallowed. “Shouldn’t we deal with this - ah - alone?”

“Or -” Crowley said. He grabbed Aziraphale’s knees, and pinned them in place, his yellow eyes burning with a fierce unsated hunger. “Is that what you want, angel? For me to crawl over there, and hide under the bedsheets til we’re done. We could enjoy ourselves, that was the plan, wasn’t it? Maybe a bit more physical than I was expecting, but it could be fun.”

“I’m not sure whether Heaven, would agree with -”

“Has that ever stopped you before?” Aziraphale’s mind drifted to slurping down the salty taste of oysters to drinking his first sip of wine, followed immediately by several more sips. The first time he did this, Aziraphale’s 🍆 swelled against the woollen fabric at his crotch, he swallowed and stared deep in Crowley’s yellow eyes.

“Tell me what you want, angel.”

“But-”

“Don’t play coy. You once made a wine farmer move his entire vineyard 100 meters to the left because the flavor wasn’t right.”

“The soil was far too acidic!”

“And you asked a bakery to re-bake a whole batch of sweetbreads because the texture was ‘too chewy’.”

“It was like eating leather.”

“And they all bloody do it, don’t they? Because of your sweet little angelic face.”

“I don’t know about that.”

“You call the shots. I won’t do anything you don’t want to do. Take what you want, angel. Tell me what to do."

Aziraphale’s hands tightened under the bed sheets, bunching the fabric into his palms to steady himself. Crowley stared up at him, his beautiful face caught in genuine adoration. The hold Aziraphale was keeping on everything started to waver.

“What if I just watched you?” Crowley said, letting go of his hand and drifting his fingertips along Aziraphale’s thighs. “You watched me last time. You liked it.”

“That was for research.”

“Please, angel.” Crowley held his hands in prayer, his head bowed between Aziraphale’s knees. This sight stirred something deep within him, something that seemed both akin to and at odds with his angelic nature.

@goodomensafterdark Thanks to: @adverbian, @voluptatiscausa, @malachitegrey again for the High Sex Pollen Event! And to my lovely betas: @fuzzygoblin , @yes-its-unholy, and @happynachohologram. This chap would be 10x worse without all of you.

#good omens 2 #aziracrow #aziraphale #5 times they took sex pollen #high sex pollen event #good omens fic #they were knights #sexy armour removal #crowley #bed humping #you heard me #Kingdom of Wessex #But make it sexy #good omens fanart

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adobe-outdesign · 27 days ago

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have you reviewed the techo yet? i like their big ol feet

Techo are pretty underrated pets; maybe I'm just biased because I have a deep love for geckos, but they're cute little guys with nice, simple designs. They're not technically that different from actual geckos in terms of anatomy, having the distinct sticky toes/fingers, large bugged out eyes, and big tails, but being bipedal instantly gives them a bit of flavor, and I like the way their tails stick straight up and have a naturally wiggly look to them.

Another thing that helps is their markings; they have these subtle swirls on their limbs, but they also have a few spots on their heads (typically red, though it varies when painted). There are plenty of geckos that have spots like this IRL, though the one that immediately jumps to mind is the Madagascar Giant Day Gecko:

My only issue with their basic colors is that the cream-colored underbelly feels a bit low-contrast, and doesn't always work well with the base colour. I kind of feel like something more colorful would've been better; either a lighter tint of the base colour or a yellow to match the eyes. This isn't a big deal though, as most paint brush colours change this anyway.

Conversion was sort of a mixed bag here; on the one hand, I like the anatomy of the converted version better with the better-proportioned arms, thicker tail, better-placed/bigger spots, and improved flow to the overall body. However, it also lost a lot of its personality; the customized version is just kind of there, while the unconverted version is delightfully cheerful and easy-going.

Favorite Colours:

Faerie: The UC/styled faerie Techo is amazing. I love that they didn't just slap generic butterfly wings on it, instead opting for some ruffled, folded wings vaguely reminiscent of something like a frilled-neck lizard. They fit the gecko base perfectly and the way they run all the way down the body is really cool. The light yellow body is then contrasted not only with the lighter blue wings but some darker blue spots that kind of invoke the default ones on the Techo's head, which makes it so the body isn't just a generic yellow Techo base. Beautiful stuff.

The only con is that the converted version sucks; not only did the markings change slightly for the worse, but the wings are both too light and no longer run down the tail like they used to, resulting in it looking 10x more generic. Defiantly go for the styled on this one.

Woodland: I've already talked about this one before so I'll keep this one brief, but the woodland Techo is really neat; it's based on the leaf-tailed Gecko, which is both thematically appropriate and makes for a neat visual. The leaf tail and underbelly are integrated pretty well, and I like the more subtle color palette for this one.

Maractite: The Maractite Techo does a fantastic job of integrating the Techo's natural markings into the design; not only are the arm and leg swirls present, but also the spots on the head, all detailed and seemly integrated with the rest of the body markings. There was also a lot of though put into the intricate flow of the markings on areas like the tail, and the plain underbelly has a wonderful hard polished rock texture to it.

BONUS: The toy Techo is one of those sticky gecko toys, and like the Maractite, has a great texture to it. The concept is fun, and I like the use of neon-bright color here. My only issue with it is that the tail feels disconnected from the body; I think it being green would've solved that issue, especially because there are three colors competing here already (pink, green, and red). I'm also not a huge fan of the spots here, as they look weird with the raised texture. The rest of it is pretty delightful though.

#neopets #neotag #techo #neopet reviews

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gabessquishytum · 10 months ago

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Dream has a favorite restaurant. That's not because the food is sooo good, Dream has food issues and prefers restaurants (one restaurant) that has a static menu, where he's assured that things will taste as he expects.

His sisters (& and even Desire) forced him to find a place where he could get at least 2 meals a week, that he didn’t have to cook for himself,,,,, since he can't cook and they were all worried he would die of malnutrition! 😝 They went around to all the eateries in his neighborhood and found this small diner that had the most things on their menu Dream could eat.

Dream didn’t know his diner hired a new chef. The only way he learned of it was that his standing Tuesday order, tasted different?!? The texture was the same, so Dream could still eat it, but the flavor in his first bite was different, unexpected, good enough to try a 2nd bite..... Dream has never eaten a meal as quickly, chasing the new flavor. It was really good. Dream had never.......it had to be a fluke. The same thing happened with his standing Thursday order and when he ordered something on Saturday. It was the most extraordinary thing. "Flavor," interesting, delicious, flavor had never been something Dream thought he would get to have. The new chef is amazing.

Hob loves his new job! He's finally cooking for a restaurant, not just prepping pieces; it's a small diner, but Hob gets to cook and zhuzh up some of the plainer offerings -- not too much, because he knows that diners have regulars who like what they like,,,,but he's gotten some good feedback on the spicing up of things.

And one of the other best things about the job is the tall, goth, eye candy that seems to frequent the diner every few days. Hob isn't sure what exactly he orders (and Hob hopes he likes Hob's cooking) but lately he seems to be coming in more ?!? ☺️ He's soo pretty Hob wants to offer to cook for him forever!

Cute cute cute!!!!

Hob takes great joy in cooking for everyone, but there's something rather special about Dream. Perhaps it's the fact that he always looks at the food in a critical, suspicious sort of way before he eats. Its incredibly endearing and Hob loves watching him through the glass door of the kitchen. Dream does seem to enjoy the food, but he never quite trusts it. Hob respects that about him. Especially when the recipe is one of Hob’s jazzed up classics.

They happen to meet while Hob is taking a delivery of local fruits and veggies. Dream summons up the courage to approach and talk to him about some of the ingredients - they spend about 10 minutes chatting while Hob enthuses about asparagus and Dream nods along, smiling the whole time. Dream reveals that he is a completely incompetent cook and that he's basically living off Hob’s food at this point, both at the diner and the leftovers that he brings home. Hob is thrilled - although slightly panicked because what if he can't come into work and Dream starves?!

Obviously he needs to drag Dream into the kitchen after hours, and at LEAST show him how to boil an egg. He's convinced that Dream is going to look adorable in an apron... maybe also covered in ingredients... that Hob can lick off him 👀

#the sandman #dreamling

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kana2025 · 5 months ago

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Himbo Idol Jaehyun x Reader

Word Count: 50+

Genres: Romance, Fluff, Comfort/Hurt, Slice of Life

Synopsis: In a luxurious penthouse suite, you and your boyfriend Jaehyun, a charming and slightly clueless idol, share an intimate evening. Jaehyun surprises you with a homemade tiramisu, and his endearing clumsiness makes you smile. As you savor the dessert, the air between you becomes charged with unspoken desire. A tender kiss leads to a heartfelt exchange of "I love you"s, and Jaehyun's vulnerable request for you to stay with him. Wrapped in his embrace, the city's distant hum fades away, leaving just the two of you in a cocoon of love and intimacy.

The lights of the city cast a soft glow through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the penthouse suite, creating an intimate ambiance that contrasted with the bustling streets below. You sat on the plush sofa, a glass of wine in your hand, feeling the slight buzz of alcohol loosen your senses. The soft hum of the city life seemed a world away from the tranquil luxury of the room.

Jaehyun, your boyfriend and the nation's beloved idol, was busy preparing something in the kitchen. The sight of him, so focused and adorably clumsy, brought a smile to your lips. His broad shoulders and toned physique were accentuated by the fitted white shirt he wore, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Every so often, he would glance over at you with a boyish grin, his dimpled smile making your heart skip a beat.

"Almost done!" he called out, his deep voice resonating through the room. You couldn't help but admire how effortlessly handsome he looked, even when he was trying to navigate through a recipe.

"You sure you don't need any help?" you teased, watching as he fumbled with a jar.

"Nope! I've got it all under control," he replied, though his actions suggested otherwise. You chuckled, shaking your head at his endearing confidence.

Finally, Jaehyun emerged from the kitchen, carrying a tray with what looked like a meticulously prepared dessert. He set it down on the coffee table with a flourish, his eyes sparkling with pride. "Ta-da! I made tiramisu."

You raised an eyebrow, impressed. "Tiramisu, huh? That's ambitious."

"Only the best for you," he said, his gaze softening as he looked at you. He sat down next to you, his presence warm and comforting. The scent of coffee and cocoa from the dessert mingled with his cologne, creating an intoxicating mix.

Jaehyun handed you a fork, his fingers brushing against yours in a gentle, deliberate caress. You felt a shiver run down your spine at the contact. Taking a bite, you savored the rich, creamy texture of the tiramisu, the flavors melting together perfectly.

"This is really good," you said, surprised. "You did an amazing job."

He beamed, clearly pleased with your reaction. "I'm glad you like it."

There was a moment of comfortable silence as you both enjoyed the dessert. The room felt warmer, more intimate, the air charged with a sensual undercurrent that neither of you could ignore. Jaehyun's knee brushed against yours, a seemingly accidental touch that lingered longer than necessary.

You set your glass down, feeling the weight of his gaze on you. His eyes, dark and intense, held a promise that made your pulse quicken. You leaned closer, drawn to him like a magnet, your breath hitching as he mirrored your movement.

"Jaehyun," you whispered, your voice barely audible over the sound of your heartbeat.

He closed the remaining distance between you, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was both tender and fervent. His hand cupped your face, fingers threading through your hair as he deepened the kiss. The world outside the window faded away, leaving just the two of you in a cocoon of shared desire.

When you finally pulled apart, your foreheads resting against each other, Jaehyun's breath was ragged. "I love you," he murmured, his voice a low, velvety rumble.

"I love you too," you replied, your fingers tracing the contours of his face. The honesty in his eyes made your heart swell with emotion.

He pulled you into his arms, holding you close as if afraid to let go. The warmth of his body seeped into yours, creating a cocoon of safety and affection. You knew that moments like these were precious, stolen from the hectic whirlwind of his idol life.

"Stay with me tonight," he whispered, his lips brushing against your ear. There was a vulnerability in his voice that you rarely heard, a need that matched your own.

"Always," you promised, sealing your words with another kiss. The night stretched ahead of you, filled with the promise of shared intimacy and whispered confessions.

In that moment, surrounded by the gentle glow of the city lights and the warmth of Jaehyun's embrace, you felt truly at home.

#jaehyun #jaehyun nct #jaehyun x reader #jaehyun x reader nct #jaehyun x y/n #jaehyun x you #jaehyun scenarios #jaehyun imagines #nct fanfic #jaehyun fanfic

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clean-bubbles-aka-bubbles · 1 month ago

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UNVEIL TO NO AVAIL

Once they were back inside the tower, (Y/Cyb/N) did his best to help with the supplies, trying to keep his mind occupied and away from the troubling thoughts about his carrier's reaction. His excitement about the future remained, but he resolved to be more attentive to his creators' needs and approach the racing topic more cautiously.

"Oh! You're back soon!" (Y/Cyb/N)'s sire's helm popped out of the doorway with a smile plastered on his faceplate. "I cooked you guys some Enriched Energon Fries!" He held a tray of food.

They had a metallic appearance, with an outer layer of gold representing their delectable sweet taste and a core of silver symbolizing their firm but fluffy texture. The crispness of the fries was reflected in their sharp edges, giving a sense of crispness and crunch. Its blue energy glow symbolizes its high nutritional value and deliciousness.

(Y/Cyb/N)'s optics brightened at the sight of his sire, the familiar warmth in his spark momentarily pushing aside the lingering tension from earlier. The tray of Enriched Energon Fries gleamed enticingly in his sire's servos, their golden and silver layers reflecting the light in the room.

"[𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐇𝐔𝐒𝐈𝐀𝐒𝐌]... They look amazing, Sire!" (Y/Cyb/N) said, offering a small smile. "[𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍]... Thank you for making them!"

His sire chuckled, his faceplate beaming with pride. "Well, I figured you'd both be a bit hungry after your outing. Thought I'd treat you two!" He carefully placed the tray down on the table, gesturing for them to sit.

(Y/C/N) gave a soft smile, though (Y/Cyb/N) could still see a flicker of the earlier tension in her optics. She sat down quietly, reaching for one of the fries. "Thank you, love," she murmured, giving her sparkmate a fond glance before nibbling on the metallic fry.

(Y/Cyb/N) eagerly grabbed one, his processor momentarily distracted by the delicious snack. The outer layer crackled under his bite, releasing a rush of sweet and savory flavors, with the silver core offering a soft, energizing texture. The subtle blue glow of the Energon gave it a revitalizing kick, making (Y/Cyb/N) feel a little more recharged with each bite.

As they ate, (Y/Cyb/N)'s sire settled down next to them, optics twinkling with curiosity. "So, how was the big outing? Iacon's always an adventure! Did you see anything exciting?"

(Y/Cyb/N) hesitated for a moment, glancing at his carrier before answering. "[𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐅𝐔𝐋]... It was incredible. We saw a lot! The markets, the towers..." He trailed off, his mind flashing back to the race and his encounter with Glintstream. "[𝐂𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐒]. I also learned a bit about the Iacon 5000. It seems really interesting. I would like to go there and see the race one day..."

His sire's optics froze mid-way as he chewed on one of the fries. It was similar to the same reaction as (Y/Cyb/N)'s carrier, but it wasn't as tense to the point his sire's Algorithm (Quadirectional Keeper) would act up and probably start moving objects around the room.

Something about being at the race—seeing or participating—to his sire and carrier was a history or an event that relates to some part of their past they haven't told (Y/Cyb/N) yet.

(Y/Cyb/N) noticed the brief pause from his sire, who seemed to be processing the information. The usually lively optics dimmed slightly, and he swallowed the fry thoughtfully. It wasn't as intense as (Y/C/N)'s reaction, but there was a shift in the atmosphere.

"Ah, the Iacon 5000," his sire finally said, breaking the silence with a forced cheerfulness. "It's quite the spectacle. I'm glad you enjoyed your visit."

(Y/Cyb/N) felt a pang of uncertainty. He had hoped for a more enthusiastic response but was met with a more reserved one. "[𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐑𝐍𝐄𝐃]... Is everything alright, Sire?"

His sire glanced at him, a soft, reassuring smile returning to his faceplate. "Oh, it's nothing to worry about, (Y/Cyb/N). Just... well, it's a big event, and there are some things we prefer to keep private." He gave a light, almost apologetic chuckle. "You know how it is. Safety and all that."

(Y/C/N) nodded in agreement, though her gaze was still somewhat distant. "Your sire is right. The Iacon 5000 is impressive, but it's best not to get too involved in the spectacle. Many things aren't... always as they seem."

(Y/Cyb/N) felt a knot in his processor. He could sense there was more to their reactions than they were letting on. Safety and all... It can't be just safety and all. He was curious and wanted to know more. "[𝐈𝐍𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐑𝐘] Is there another reason why you don't like the race? Perhaps someone? An accident? The history of someone associated—"

*BLIP!*

His sire activated another Algorithm (Y/Cyb/N)'s name trained with his father, which was the Octo Hex. (Y/Cyb/N) was gently cut off, a red, floating octagon hologram pressed against their dermas, blocking his voice.

"H-How about we stop talking about the race?" His sire interrupted him gently, his right optic twitching in nervousness. His right servo was placed on his son's shoulderplate while his left servo was raised slightly, with the Octo Hex Algorithm emblem glowing and floating.

(Y/Cyb/N) paused, taken aback by the sudden activation of the Octo Hex. His sire's usually calm and jovial demeanor had a crack now—something beneath the surface, a deeper tension than he'd ever noticed before. The red octagon hovered gently against his dermas, an unmistakable sign that this conversation was veering into forbidden territory.

(Y/Cyb/N) swallowed his curiosity, his optics dimming slightly as he nodded. "[𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓]... Of course, Sire," he said quietly, his voice muffled by the soft hum of the Octo Hex.

He didn't push further, but the seed of doubt had already been planted in his spark. There was something about the Iacon 5000—something about racing or whatever it is—that deeply unsettled his creators, and it wasn't just about safety.

His sire let out a relieved sigh, lowering his servo as the Octo Hex flickered out of existence. "Good," he muttered, his voice trying to regain its usual warmth. "Let's focus on the present, alright? You're home safe, and that's what matters."

The table fell into a brief but heavy silence, the weight of unspoken words thickening the air. (Y/C/N) fidgeted with her servo, her optics flickering between her sparkmate and (Y/Cyb/N). The fries on her plate were monetarily forgotten, the once-hot food now sitting warm.

(Y/Cyb/N) felt a swirl of conflicting emotions. He wanted to press the issue, to know why something as simple as a race brought such discomfort to his family, but he also knew pushing too hard could break the delicate peace they had built.

His spark pulsed heavily, his processor running through different scenarios. "[𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐅𝐔𝐋]... I'll drop it for now," he thought to himself, "but I'll find out the truth eventually."

He focused on his sire's faceplate again, offering a more genuine smile. "[𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄]... You're right. Let's not dwell on it. The day was great, and the fries are even better!"

The change in tone seemed to lighten the mood, his sire visibly relaxing. "That's the spirit!" he said with a renewed chuckle, giving (Y/Cyb/N) a playful nudge. "We should do more outings like this, but maybe something a little less... exciting next time, eh?"

(Y/Cyb/N) smiled, but his mind was already elsewhere, his spark still heavy with lingering questions. Something about that race haunted his creators, and whether they liked it or not, he knew that sooner or later, he'd have to uncover what they were hiding.

Later that night, (Y/Cyb/N) lay peacefully on his berth, trying to catch some rest. The strange event at the dinner table left him confused and stunned. Why did they not like talking about the race? Were they once racers? Did they have a forbidden insight into the race?

"...Are you out of your processor!?"

"N-Not really—"

"(Y/S/N). We can NOT just tell him about our history...!"

"He needs to know the truth eventually, but I understand you don't want to ruin his dream."

(Y/Cyb/N)'s audio receptors perked up on his creators' conversation, discussing something. He sat up slowly, leaning against the door to hear better.

"What do you suggest? You're going to let him find out on his own?"

"Crazy as it is, (Y/C/N), it's sort of like that."

(Y/Cyb/N) heard a frustrated and exasperated sigh from his carrier.

"Honestly, I have no idea how you began coming up with these plans..."

"I've been a mechanic and inventor for my entire life before I even met you!"

"Oh... right..."

"Never mind that," a tired sigh left (Y/Cyb/N)'s dermas. "Next morning, we'll go to the Hall of Records. He never has been there before, but it might share some history about us."

"Wait—you aren't—"

"Yes, I am. We're going to find that banned book whether you like it or not."

"Are you kidding me!? You're going to get yourself caught if you screw this up! Worse, you'll get killed if the council finds out we're the last ones to be users of the Algorithms!"

"Look, this banned book isn't about Iacon 5000—it's about us! Our story, culture, history, and the truth of our kind—the Codexes."

(Y/Cyb/N)'s spark raced as he pressed his audio receptors closer to the door, his processors spinning with the implications of what he'd just overheard. A banned book? Codexes? A hidden history that involved his creators? And something about using the Algorithms... that was forbidden by the council?

He hadn't expected this. All he wanted was to learn more about the Iacon 5000, but now it seemed there was a much deeper story hidden beneath the surface—one that involved his own family in ways he couldn't have imagined.

The voices on the other side of the door became calmer as if his creators were aware of the sensitivity of their conversation.

His carrier's voice was softer now but strained with worry. "You're seriously going to put ourselves in danger to satisfy his curiosity?"

His sire responded unusually firmly, "If we don't, he'll go looking alone. You know how stubborn he is. He's got our spark, after all. And we both know we don't want him to draw attention, especially considering the errors he still has!"

There was a long pause, and (Y/Cyb/N) could almost feel the weight of his carrier's reluctance.

"...Fine. But I'm coming with you," she finally muttered. "I won't let you do this alone."

"Good." (Y/Cyb/N)'s sire sighed with relief. "Whatever we do, we can NOT let him find out about the truth of our clan..."

(Y/Cyb/N) shifted nervously, stepping back from the door. They were heading to the Hall of Records tomorrow—somewhere they had never taken him before.

He felt excited—the thrill of seeing and learning something new. He could learn more about the history of the Iacon 5000 race! Or he could get to know places without having to be there so he knows what to do when he's there in person.

But he also felt curiosity and caution—what did his creators want to hide? Why did it sound like they would enter a restricted area to grab something while he wandered peacefully? Why did they want to hide their turmoil from him?

"Good night, sweetspark," (Y/Cyb/N) heard his sire kissing on his carrier's forehead. "I'll check to see if (Y/Cyb/N) is sleeping." He added, his pedesteps approaching the closed door. "I wouldn't want our worry youngling either staying up all night, thinking about what I just did, or he was eavesdropping on us."

Panic jolted through (Y/Cyb/N)'s veins momentarily. He shuffled back to his berth, pulling the soft metallic covers, shutting his optics quickly, and putting up a relaxed face just as the door slid open.

*PSSSHH!!*

He did his best to steady his spark. His sire's shadow fell over the room, and the soft hum of his servos filled the silence. He could feel his spark pulsing in rhythm with the gentle steps as his sire approached the berth.

"(Y/Cyb/N)? Are you asleep, sweetspark?"

(Y/Cyb/N) kept his optics shut, his frame completely still as he pretended to be in deep recharge. His spark was racing, but he kept his breathing steady, hoping his sire wouldn't sense the tension that coursed through his circuits.

There was a long pause. (Y/Cyb/N) could almost hear the gears in his sire's processor turning as he stood there, quietly observing him. The air felt thick with unspoken thoughts.

Finally, his sire let out a quiet sigh, the sound of relief or perhaps resignation. "(Y/Cyb/N), you're so much like us... more than you realize," he murmured softly, almost to himself. "One day, I hope you'll understand why we're so protective."

(Y/Cyb/N) felt a flicker of warmth in his spark, even as his mind raced with curiosity and questions. He heard the faint sound of his sire's pedesteps retreating, followed by the soft hiss of the door closing behind him. The room became silent again, and (Y/Cyb/N) slowly opened his optics, staring up at the ceiling.

So much had been said—and yet, so much was still hidden.

The following day, (Y/Cyb/N) woke up with excitement and trepidation. His creators had mentioned taking him to the Hall of Records, a place he had only heard about in passing. If there was anywhere that could provide answers, it was there. But what his creators planned to find... that was the real question.

During breakfast, the atmosphere felt a little tenser than usual. His carrier and sire exchanged subtle glances, their optics filled with something unspoken. (Y/Cyb/N) tried not to dwell on it, instead focusing on his energon cubes and mentally preparing for the day ahead.

"Ready for an adventure today, (Y/Cyb/N)?" his sire asked, trying to keep his tone light, but there was an undercurrent of seriousness.

(Y/Cyb/N) nodded, his optics brightening. "I am! I've never been to the Hall of Records before. I've heard it's incredible."

His sire smiled, though there was a weight behind it. "It is. You'll learn a lot. But remember, some things in the past are better left alone."

(Y/Cyb/N) nodded, though his spark buzzed with anticipation. The Hall of Records wasn't just about learning—it was about uncovering the truth, a truth that his creators had been hiding for far too long.

While preparing to leave, (Y/Cyb/N) couldn't shake the feeling that today would be a turning point. He was on the verge of discovering something that could change everything—about his creators, race, and perhaps even himself.

◥✥◤°∆ ------ ••• ----- ∆°◥✥◤

"Ah! Here we are, the Hall of Records!"

(Y/Cyb/N)'s eyes sparkled in awe, looking at the large, towering structure before him. "[𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐆𝐀𝐒𝐏]... It's beautiful!" He exclaimed with a smile, his optics sparkling at the tall building before him.

The Hall of Records stood before (Y/Cyb/N), an imposing structure of sleek metallic surfaces and intricate engravings that hinted at the vast wealth of information. The grandeur of the building was matched by the high-tech security surrounding it—a large archway with holographic security protocols and a team of well-equipped guards stationed at the entrance.

His sire and carrier stood beside him, their expressions a mixture of nervousness and resolve. As they approached, the guards gave them a respectful nod and recognized them immediately. The familiar routine of scanning and access codes began, and the group was soon allowed inside the building.

Inside, the Hall of Records was a technological and architectural design marvel. Endless rows of data storage units lined the walls, each displaying information streams in glowing holographic displays. The room was bathed in a soft blue light, creating a calming atmosphere that contrasted sharply with the sense of urgency that (Y/Cyb/N) felt. There were other Cybertronians, too, reading and conversing with each other in the Iacon Library.

His sire led the way, guiding them through the maze of data terminals. "Alright, (Y/Cyb/N)," he said, trying to sound casual. "We're here to do some research, and it might take a while." He spoke, trying to hide his true intention of him and his sparkmate to go find the forbidden datapad within the place of knowledge.

Eventually, his sire and carrier stopped, turning to face (Y/Cyb/N). "Feel free to look around and explore sweetspark," (Y/Cyb/N)'s carrier smiled softly at her son. She adjusted the shawl around (Y/Cyb/N), ensuring it stayed on firmly to hide his insignia.

"Please be careful. Ensure your shawl remains on, and avoid the guards here. They're not as friendly as you think. Regardless of your situation—if you get yourself into one, do not use your powers at all. Also, please," she grabbed (Y/Cyb/N)'s shoulderplates. "Do not, under ANY circumstances, leave the library and sneak off anywhere. I understand you want to begin exploring and doing things independently..."

She had a look of guilt but with understanding. "But your sire and I are not exactly ready yet for you to go off alone. There's so much you still have to learn, and we both know how much you like to watch the Iacon 5000 race."

"[𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐏𝐈𝐒𝐇 𝐍𝐎𝐃]" (Y/Cyb/N) spoke sheepishly while nodding nervously. "I-I understand, Carrier..."

"Good, good." His sire nodded firmly. "We love you but don't get any ideas on sneaking out, young mech. Sure, you can find the fine history about the Iacon 5000 race, but don't go and see it in person—"

"Psst!" (Y/Cyb/N)'s carrier hissed quietly. "I think he has the point now!" She gently elbowed her sparkmate. "We have to go now."

As (Y/Cyb/N)'s sire and carrier exchanged a glance, their worry masked beneath the practiced smiles they offered him, (Y/Cyb/N) couldn't help but feel the gravity of their words sink in. He gazed around the towering Hall of Records, its vastness intimidating yet fascinating at the same time. This place held knowledge beyond anything he could comprehend, and it was hard not to feel small standing in its midst.

His carrier adjusted the shawl, pulling it tightly around his shoulders to conceal his insignia. "(Y/Cyb/N), I know this seems exciting, but you must stay careful." She whispered, her optics soft with concern. "We'll be back soon. Don't draw attention to yourself, okay?"

With a quick nod from (Y/Cyb/N), his parents moved away, their figures soon disappearing into the labyrinth of data terminals and hidden records.

Now alone, (Y/Cyb/N) felt the weight of their words pressing against his chest. Stay in the library. Don't get caught by the guards. And don't use the Algorithms. But as his optics drifted across the shimmering data streams and grand architecture, the temptation to explore deeper into the Hall was hard to resist. After all, what secrets were they so keen on keeping from him?

He wandered slowly, observing the other Cybertronians absorbed in their work, their optics flickering with concentration as they accessed vast swathes of data. A quiet hum of activity and a peaceful rhythm intrigued and soothed him. Yet, beneath the tranquility, a restlessness grew in (Y/Cyb/N)'s spark.

He approached one of the data terminals, eyes darting across the countless files and archives. "The Iacon 5000 race," he thought, his curiosity getting better. His spark pulsed with excitement as he pulled up a file, scrolling through the legendary race's history. He could almost hear the roar of the crowd, the hum of engines as racers pushed themselves to their limits.

But his focus wavered. The whispers of his parents' secretive behavior echoed in his processor. Why had they come here today? What were they really after? The more he thought about it, the more suspicious it seemed.

With a furtive glance around, (Y/Cyb/N) edged closer to the forbidden sections of the Hall. He knew he shouldn't, but something inside urged him forward, a pull he couldn't explain. He started to follow in the direction where they went last.

Maybe, just maybe, he could catch a glimpse of the datapad they sought—

*Clank!*

"Ow—"

"[SURPRISED YELP]"

From (Y/Cyb/N)'s view, his optics flash momentary red, indicating he was smacked by something before returning to his standard (f/c). His shawl fell slightly after he bumped into the shelf of datapads. Groaning and getting up, he looked at the Cybertronian he bumped into.

The Cybertronian was a red and blue-themed mech with a blocky chest and legs. His blue helm had tiny fins sticking out, making him look like he had cat ears.

"Oh—" The mech spoke, startled from the accidental bumping. "My apologies—miss—"

"I'm actually a guy."

(Y/Cyb/N) cut him off calmly. The blue-optic bot seemed surprised. "Sorry, sir. I didn't mean to bump into you," he replied to the odd Cybertronian.

*Creak!*

The trans-masculine mech winced a bit when his helm went lopsided. "Ouch. Damn defect. [GRUMBLE]" He muttered, grabbing ahold of his helm and picking up his shawl.

"Wait—" The red and blue bot was both amused and confused when he heard (Y/Cyb/N) say the emotion of how he felt despite feeling the emotion he felt. "Did you just—"

"[SHEEPISH CHUCKLE]" (Y/Cyb/N) chuckled sheepishly, narrating his action once more. "Apologies, it's a bug I am born with, forcing me to speak every action and emotion despite me doing it and feeling it."

The red-and-blue bot blinked, momentarily taken aback by (Y/Cyb/N)'s explanation. He tilted his helm slightly, processing what he'd just heard. "So... you narrate everything you do and feel?" His tone was a mix of curiosity and bemusement.

"[NOD OF CONFIRMATION]" (Y/Cyb/N) nodded as he gathered himself and adjusted his shawl back into place. "Yes, it's a defect I've had since I came online. Sometimes, it catches me off guard, too."

The larger bot smiled slightly, though he seemed unsure whether to laugh or feel sympathy. "Well, that's... unique. I've met a lot of bots in my day, but none quite like you."

(Y/Cyb/N) couldn't help but chuckle again, more genuinely this time. "[SMALL LAUGH] It's one of those things I've had to learn to live with. It sometimes makes conversations awkward, but what can you do?"

"Yeah, I can imagine." The mech straightened, his optics brightening. "Name's Orion Pax." He offered a servo for the trans-mech to shake. "And yours?"

(Y/Cyb/N) stared between the servo and his. "[𝐇𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐎𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐊𝐄]" He reached out his servo and gently shook Orion Pax's own. "My name is (Y/Cyb/N). [𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐎𝐔𝐒 𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐂𝐊𝐋𝐄] I-I never been here before..."

"Never? At all?" Orion seemed to be surprised by his new friend's statement. "Well... I guess you can. I've been to this place before. A lot of times." He chuckled.

"[𝐒𝐋𝐎𝐖 𝐍𝐎𝐃]" (Y/Cyb/N) nodded. "I see..." He spoke slowly. "What are you here for? [𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐒] Are you searching for something?"

"Well—" he glanced around quickly, searching for something. "I am searching for ways to get the Matrix of Leadership." He spoke proudly. "I needed to know our origins of being born from Primus to find it."

"Origins? [𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐒 𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐌 𝐓𝐈𝐋𝐓]" (Y/Cyb/N) inquired. "What's this... Matrix of Leadership?"

A surprised gasp left Orion Pax's dermas. "You never heard of it?" He was shocked to see someone—out of society—not knowing about the outside world.

"[𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐌 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐊𝐄] Never. Not at all." The (f/c)-optic mech agreed with Orion's statement.

"Not even Sentimental Prime?!" He added. "He's the leader and protector of Cybertron! He's trying to find the Matrix of Leadership! He's a great guy!" Orion's excitement grows as (Y/Cyb/N) watches with interest, confusion, and exasperation. "How have you not heard of him!?"

(Y/Cyb/N) scratched the back of his helm, feeling a bit sheepish under Orion Pax's animated response. "[𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐏𝐈𝐒𝐇 𝐒𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐄] Well... I've been... out of touch," he admitted, his optics flickering with embarrassment. "I wasn't exactly raised in the most... open environment."

Orion blinked a few times, his enthusiasm dimming slightly as he processed the confession. "Oh... I see." His optics softened. "That explains it. I didn't mean to overwhelm you. I just—" He paused, looking apologetic.

"Well, the Matrix of Leadership is... important. It's this legendary artifact that's said to hold the wisdom of the Primes, and whoever possesses it has the right to lead Cybertron."

"[𝐀𝐖𝐄-𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐃 𝐆𝐀𝐒𝐏]" (Y/Cyb/N) couldn't help but feel intrigued. "That sounds... incredible." His optics widened as he imagined the weight of such responsibility, though he couldn't help the slight unease growing within him. "[𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐎𝐔𝐒 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐅𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆] I guess that's why you're here? To find it?"

Orion nodded, his earlier enthusiasm returning but tempered by the weight of his mission. "Exactly. I've been doing a lot of research to understand our origins and what it means to be worthy of such a title. I know I might not be the one to bear the Matrix, but I want to help find it."

(Y/Cyb/N) admired Orion's determination, though some of him still felt the pull of his parents' secretive task lingering in the back of his processor. "[𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐅𝐔𝐋 𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐌 𝐍𝐎𝐃] That's really noble of you," he replied sincerely. "I'm just... trying to figure out my place here. I don't know much about Cybertron or its history."

Orion's expression softened, a gentle smile crossing his face. "Well, if you ever want to learn, I can show you around. There's so much here that's worth discovering, and who knows? Maybe you'll find something that sparks your own journey."

(Y/Cyb/N) smiled back, feeling a sense of comfort in Orion's words. "[𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐅𝐔𝐋 𝐒𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐄] Thanks, Orion. I might just take you up on that."

*Creeakk...!*

Just as the moment settled, a creak was heard behind (Y/Cyb/N). His optics darted behind, and he saw several boxes begin falling, like a domino effect. "[SURPRISED]." He quickly grabbed the screens, snatching every single one that continued falling.

Orion Pax quickly came in to help, snatching as many as possible. "Uh—(Y/Cyb/N), you might want to stop the ones up ahead!" He pointed out how several more stacks of cubes began falling, heading to knock over a bigger stack of datapads and information cubes.

"[GASP] [PANIC] Oh no." He rushed over trying to stop the quick domino effect before it hit the bigger pile. He had the urge to try and use the Quadirectional Algorithm, but he feared the consequences of going against his creators' wishes! However, the chances he'll get recognized (if he played it discreetly and carefully) or caught were low.

The domino effect of boxes and datapads threatened to escalate and (Y/Cyb/N)'s spark raced. He could hear the creaking sounds getting louder, the towering stacks teetering dangerously. His optics darted to Orion Pax, who was rushing alongside him to stop the chaos.

What do I do?!

The Quadirectional Algorithm pulsed within him, a power just waiting to be used—but the thought of disobeying his creators' warnings gnawed at him.

I can't risk exposing myself... but I can't let this fall apart!

In a split second, (Y/Cyb/N) found himself caught between the urge to act quickly and the fear of revealing too much. His optics darted between the cascading cubes and the larger stack that threatened to fall.

"[𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐎𝐔𝐒 𝐅𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐅 𝐎𝐏𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐒]" He muttered to himself, weighing his options. If he used his Algorithm now, it might draw attention, but letting the entire stack fall could result in a worse situation—and more eyes on him.

He glanced briefly at Orion, who was doing his best to catch the falling datapads, but there were just too many. His optics narrowed as he made a quick decision.

"[𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐎𝐋𝐕𝐄𝐃 𝐆𝐑𝐈𝐓]" (Y/Cyb/N) muttered quietly to himself, finally deciding. Without hesitation, he activated the Quadirectional Algorithm, but only just enough to slow down the collapse.

A soft hum of energy surrounded his servo as his optics glowed faintly with the power of the Algorithm. With a swift motion, (Y/Cyb/N) stretched out his right servo.

*PING!*

An insignia of a white square with four orange arrows pointing outwards appeared in thin air. One of the datapads was snatched within the boundaries of the white square.

Soon, many of the same insignia began to multiply, each datapad or archives being snatched mid-air. The arrows helped stop the falling objects at the plane it sat in.

(Y/Cyb/n) held his breath as he held falling boxes in midair, stopping the domino effect just before it reached the larger stack.

"[𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐄𝐓 𝐒𝐈𝐆𝐇 𝐎𝐅 𝐑𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐄𝐅]" (Y/Cyb/N) muttered, feeling the tension in his frame ease slightly as the boxes stabilized. With a quick flick of a digit movement, he changed the Algorithm's insignias.

Four red-orange triangles appeared at the empty corners, sitting between the four orange arrows, pointing inwardly. The four triangles allowed him to rotate the position, whether it was the X, Y, Z plane, or 360° around.

*Swoosh. Swoosh. Fwoosh.*

(Y/Cyb/N) began swiping the air with his servos. The gentle sounds of air swipes was a mere whisper or low wind in the Hall of Records, nothing too suspicious or bothering as the trans-mech neatly stacked the archives and datapad.

They all shuffled through the air, sliding back into the slots almost perfectly. When they were back in their place, the insignia disappeared quickly, acting as if nothing ever initially touched them.

Once he was finished, (Y/Cyb/n) quickly looked around to see if anyone noticed his brief use of the Algorithm. Thankfully, most of the other Cybertronians in the Hall of Records were too absorbed in their tasks to pay attention.

Orion Pax, however, stared at (Y/Cyb/N) with wide optics. He had clearly seen the scene briefly, though he didn't seem entirely sure what had happened.

To him, all he saw was weird orange-colored holographic-like insignias floating in the air. He thought he was seeing things, but he was shocked to find some robot with that strange ability! Then, the rest was magic; he saw the way (Y/Cyb/n) worked smoothly with the ability.

"Wow... that was... impressive," he said, his voice of awe and confusion. "How did you manage to do that?"

(Y/Cyb/n)'s optics widened, now realizing Orion must have watched the entire scene play out before his optics.

"[𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐎𝐔𝐒 𝐋𝐀𝐔𝐆𝐇] Oh, uh... just quick reflexes!" He replied with a nervous chuckle, trying to downplay the moment. "Guess I've got a knack for catching things."

Orion raised an optic ridge but didn't press further, though he still seemed curious. "Well, good thing you were here. That could've been a disaster." He offered a grateful smile, bending down to help (Y/Cyb/N) gather the rest of the fallen datapads.

"[𝐑𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐃 𝐍𝐎𝐃]" (Y/Cyb/N) nodded, thankful the situation hadn't escalated further. They finished gathering the pads, but he couldn't shake the lingering feeling of unease. If Orion—or anyone else—had truly seen what he'd done, things could get complicated fast.

"Let's, uh, put these back before anyone notices," Orion suggested, giving (Y/Cyb/N) a knowing grin. "I don't think the Hall of Records staff would appreciate us messing up their collection."

"[𝐀𝐖𝐊𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐃 𝐍𝐎𝐃] Y-Yeah, good idea," (Y/Cyb/N) agreed, feeling a mixture of relief and anxiety. They carefully replaced the datapads on the shelves, and he tried to calm his racing thoughts. He had to be more careful from now on. One slip-up and everything could unravel.

Just as they finished tidying up, a pair of guards passed by, their optics scanning the area. "[𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐅𝐅𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐃 𝐅𝐑𝐀𝐌𝐄]" (Y/Cyb/N) tensed but kept his shawl pulled tightly around his frame, hiding his insignia as they walked by.

Orion noticed his tension and gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "Don't worry, you're doing fine. Just stick with me, and you'll be okay."

"[𝐒𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐒𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍]" (Y/Cyb/N) offered a small smile in return, grateful for the new friendship he'd stumbled into. "Thanks, Orion. I think I'm going to need it."

He adjusted his shawl, ensuring his insignia remained hidden. It was like a security blanket to him. His optics glanced around, scanning the area for any sign of curious onlookers or more guards.

But before either of them could fully relax, a figure approached from one of the hallways. Their optics narrowed as they took in the sight of (Y/Cyb/N) and Orion standing amidst the stacks of saved datapads.

"What's going on here?" The figure asked sternly, their voice commanding.

(Y/Cyb/N) stiffened, instinctively tugging his shawl tighter. Orion, ever the calm presence, stepped forward. "Just a little... mishap. Nothing serious," he explained, smiling disarmingly. "We got it all under control, no harm done."

The figure's optics scanned them both, lingering on (Y/Cyb/N) for a moment longer before they finally nodded. "Alright, but be careful next time. This is the Hall of Records, not a training ground." With a final glance, the figure turned and walked away.

Once they were gone, (Y/Cyb/N) let out a deep sigh of relief. "[𝐑𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐃 𝐒𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐄] That was too close..." His helm tilted as he glanced at Orion. "Thanks for helping out."

Orion grinned, patting (Y/Cyb/N) on the shoulder. "Anytime. Just try not to knock over any more stacks, alright?"

"[𝐀𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐍𝐎𝐃] Got it," (Y/Cyb/N) replied, feeling a bit more at ease now that the crisis was over.

Something was reassuring about having a bot like Orion Pax around—someone who genuinely cared without asking too many questions.

They continued walking down the vast corridors of the Hall of Records. (Y/Cyb/N) couldn't help but glance around, taking in the monumental archives and ancient records that stretched far beyond his sight. He felt a sense of wonder mixed with the ever-present feeling of being an outsider in this world.

Orion caught the look on his face and smiled. "Pretty impressive, isn't it? All the history and knowledge of Cybertron, right here."

(Y/Cyb/N) nodded, though his mind wandered back to the Matrix of Leadership Orion had mentioned earlier.

The weight of such responsibility seemed overwhelming, and though he admired Orion's determination, the thought of someone like himself being involved in such grand destinies felt almost too much to consider.

But the algorithms he possessed... they were a part of him, and deep down, he knew they might be connected to something larger. His creators had always warned him to keep his powers hidden, but for how long could he keep running from who he was?

"[𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐅𝐔𝐋 𝐒𝐈𝐆𝐇]," (Y/Cyb/N) muttered under his breath, causing Orion to glance over.

"You alright?" Orion asked, his optics full of concern.

"[𝐒𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐍𝐎𝐃] Yeah, just... thinking," (Y/Cyb/N) replied, giving a half-hearted smile. "I guess... there's a lot more to this world than I ever imagined."

Orion chuckled softly. "You're right about that. But you've got time to figure it all out. We all do." His tone was encouraging, and it made (Y/Cyb/N) feel a little less overwhelmed.

They approached another section of the archives. There were still so many unanswered questions about his past, abilities, and place in this world.

But with allies like Orion Pax, maybe—just maybe—he could uncover the truth without losing himself in the process.

"[𝐃𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐃 𝐆𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄] Yeah," (Y/Cyb/N) murmured to himself. "I'll figure it out."

*Ping!*

The trans-mech got a personal message pop-up to him. He looked behind him, hearing the quiet shuffling noise from the restricted area. He realized his creators were done with their 'research' they were doing.

"[𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐄𝐓 𝐒𝐈𝐆𝐇] I should go..." (Y/Cyb/N) muttered under his breath. He looked at Orion one last time before turning back. "It was great meeting you, though."

"Hey, wait—" Orion called out, stepping forward. "If you ever need help or want to talk, I'll be around."

"[𝐍𝐎𝐃 𝐎𝐅 𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍] Thanks. I might take you up on that, too." With a final glance, (Y/Cyb/N) quickly adjusted his shawl and hurried off, heading toward the forbidden sections. He could only hope his creators hadn't gotten into trouble yet.

"Sire? Carrier?"

(Y/Cyb/n) inquired with worry, seeing his sire clutching his left shoulder in pain. Energon was leaking out from what seemed to be a deep gash wound. "[CONCERNED] Why are you bleeding?"

"No time to explain. He's got a deep wound on his shoulder and right leg." His carrier quickly dismissed her son's inquiry. "We need to go. Help me carry (Y/S/N)." She promptly let her charge help (Y/S/N) and guided the two Cybertronians through the quiet sections of the library.

"Sire? Carrier? Did you get what you need?" (Y/Cyb/n) inquired, carefully dragging his sire. He was confused, intrigued, and worried about his creators' situation. But he also wanted to know why they were so focused on getting this "banned book" from the Hall of Records.

Orion Pax watched as (Y/Cyb/N) quickly left the Hall of Records, his own curiosity and concern piqued by the mysterious bot's sudden departure. The scene had been chaotic, but the intervention by (Y/Cyb/N) had managed to avert a potential disaster. Orion's thoughts were interrupted by the appearance of the guards and the stern figure who had approached them.

As (Y/Cyb/N) made his way through the restricted sections, he was filled with anxiety and urgency. His creators' situation seemed dire, and the secrecy surrounding their task only added to his concern. He could hear their hurried footsteps and strained voices echoing through the quiet library as they navigated the labyrinthine corridors.

Eventually, they reached a secluded, dimly lit area where the restricted texts were stored. The deep gash on his sire's shoulder was still bleeding, and (Y/Cyb/N) carefully helped him settle against a nearby wall. His carrier worked quickly, applying a makeshift bandage to staunch the bleeding.

"What happened?" (Y/Cyb/N) asked, his voice trembling with worry. "Why were you hurt? And why is this book so important?"

His sire grimaced, trying to steady his voice despite the pain. "We... We were attacked." He replied.

"By who?" His son inquired.

"By a couple of guards." He coughed weakly, wincing from the force (Y/C/N) used when fixing his wounds. "It contains sensitive information about the origins of the true power of the Algorithms... but also us."

"[IRRITATED] [CONFUSED]" (Y/Cyb/n) frowned, crossing his arms. "Why would you go and steal a book? You're going to get hurt if you tried—or punished!"

"They were trying to protect crucial information from the public." (Y/C/N) spoke sternly. "It's something you would get a better understanding of rather than us explaining it."

(Y/Cyb/N) could see the urgency in his sire's optics. His carrier glanced at the book with anxiety and relief. "We can't be here. The guards will come back." She muttered, helping (Y/S/N) stand to his pedes. "Let's go—"

She paused, her voice dropping quickly as she saw a security drone hovering past them. (Y/S/N)'s optics widened, covering his sparkmate's intake to prevent her from panicking. (Y/Cyb/n) leaned forward, curious to get a better look at the drone.

*PING!*

However, the drone was ensnared in the Quadirectinal Keeper's primary insignia, stopping it from moving in mid-air. His sire held out a right servo, which had the soft glow of the complete Algorithm. He winced due to his injury, but with a flick of his wrist, he swiped the air, controlling the drone.

*ZIP!*

The drone was flicked through the air, smacking against a wall before it clattered to the ground, sparking and fizzing before it shut down.

"Come on. We can't be in this restricted area for too long... That dammed book isn't here; it must've been removed or deleted." (Y/C/N) muttered. She helped (Y/S/N) move throughout the restricted section, (Y/Cyb/n) lagging slightly and having many questions racing in his thoughts.

"[IRRITATED INQUIRY] Carrier, Sire, what are you hiding from me? Why can't you just tell me?" The (f/c)-optic trans-mech demanded, careful not to trip over datapads and crates while walking. "We're family, aren't we? If you don't tell me, you know I'll find it myself."

(Y/Cyb/N)'s voice carried a tone of frustration, his optics flashing with a mix of confusion and determination. His creators, looking weary and wounded, exchanged glances, knowing they couldn't keep their secrets much longer.

(Y/S/N) let out a resigned sigh, his grip on his injured shoulder tightening while his carrier shifted uncomfortably, avoiding her son's intense gaze. "You're right... we are family," his sire finally said, his voice strained but firm. "And that's exactly why we haven't told you everything. It's to protect you."

"[ANGRY] Protect me?" (Y/Cyb/N) shot back, his frustration growing as he reflexively narrated his emotion. "From what? I've been hidden from danger countless times already. How is hiding me more this helping?"

His carrier stepped closer, placing a gentle servo on his shoulder. "You have no idea how dangerous the truth is, (Y/Cyb/N)." She spoke softly. "What we're hiding... it's not just some secret about the Algorithms. It's about you—about your culture and why you have the abilities you do. You were never supposed to find out like this."

(Y/Cyb/N) felt a pit forming in his spark as the weight of her words sank in. He backed away slightly, the enormity of the situation dawning on him. "[CONFUSED] Me? What do you mean, 'about me'?"

His sire struggled to stay upright, but his voice remained steady. "We've tried to keep you safe, keep your past buried... because if the wrong bots find out who you really are, what you have, they won't stop until they control you. They won't care about who you are—only about the power you hold."

"[SHOCKED AND SCARED]" (Y/Cyb/N)'s optics flickered as he processed this. "So all of this... the secrecy, the stealing of the book—it's all about me? About the Algorithms I have?"

His carrier nodded, her optics filled with sorrow. "Well... not entirely about you." She winced slightly. "It's... All of us have a story untold to the world. The higher-ups were determined to keep the history hidden or erased."

"[FLABBERGASTED] E-Erased?" (Y/Cyb/N) continued stepping back. "B-But... why?"

His sire sighed. "Our history before you were born is... complicated. Complicated with the higher-ups and some parts of society. Your carrier and I used to live in a clan away from this society in the wonder of exploration. However, they were wiped out."

"Wiped out?" (Y/Cyb/n) was getting more curious, confused, and scared.

"It's because we're meant to be—"

"HEY!"

An authoritative voice called out, making (Y/Cyb/n) snap his helm behind, wincing when two lights hit his faceplate. His carrier and sire looked horrified as if they were criminals getting caught on their long streak of committing crimes.

(Y/Cyb/n) found himself facing two towering Cybertronian mechs, holding flashlights at him. Both look the same, with pink visors and gray battle masks over their intakes. "You're not supposed to be here." One of them spoke his voice deep and baritone with authority.

He froze in place as the guards' bright lights blinded him momentarily. His carrier and sire shifted anxiously, their bodies tense with the fear of being caught. The looming presence of the two guards was palpable, and (Y/Cyb/N) could feel the weight of the situation pressing down on him.

"[STERN STATEMENT] We're leaving," (Y/Cyb/N) said quickly, stepping in front of his injured sire and weary carrier, trying to shield them. He could hear his spark pounding in his chestplate, wanting to instinctively activate the Quadirectional Keeper, preparing to use it again if necessary.

"Not so fast," one of the guards barked, stepping closer. "You're in a restricted section. State your identification codes and your purpose here—now."

(Y/Cyb/N) hesitated, glancing back at his creators. His carrier shook her helm slightly, silently pleading with him not to reveal too much. His sire, wincing from his injury, tried to stand taller, his optics burning with defiance despite the pain.

"[CALM] I don't think we owe you an explanation," (Y/Cyb/N) muttered, his tone defiant. His servo twitched, ready to summon the Algorithm's power if things escalated. "We just stumble in here on accident—"

The second guard narrowed his optics behind the visor, his battle mask giving nothing away. "You bots don't belong here," he said coldly, "and judging by the state of your companions, you've been involved in something you're not supposed to. I suggest you cooperate before we drag all of you to the holding cells."

(Y/Cyb/N) felt the tension rise and his creators' fear became more tangible. He knew they couldn't fight their way out of this, not without risking everything they were trying to protect. His sire, struggling to stay conscious, spoke up despite his injury.

"Listen... We... we didn't come here to cause trouble," his sire said, his voice strained. "But there are things we know... things you and the Council won't understand. We've been keeping this knowledge hidden for a reason. Please, just let us go."

The first guard tilted his helm, clearly unimpressed. "That's not how this works. You think a sob story will get you out of this? Hand over whatever you've stolen, or things will get ugly."

The words hit (Y/Cyb/N) like a blow. They were cornered; there was no way out without risking a confrontation, and they might not survive. His thoughts raced—could he use the Algorithms to disable the guards? Could he teleport them all away? But before he could act, his carrier grabbed his arm tightly.

"Don't," she whispered, her voice trembling but firm. "We can't afford to make more enemies, (Y/Cyb/N). Not here."

But the guards were growing impatient. "Last chance," the second one said, his servos tightening around his blaster. "Hand over whatever you have stolen and step aside, or we'll do this the hard way."

"[CONFUSED AND ANGRY]" (Y/Cyb/n) addressed his emotions, frowning."We don't have anything. We did not steal anything from you—"

The guard interrupted with a stern glare. "Important information or not, this area is restricted. Unauthorized access is punishable."

The other guard, a little more imposing, added, "And you've already caused quite a commotion. We can't just let this slide."

"We were just—" (Y/Cyb/N) began, but his sire cut him off.

"Just a misunderstanding," his sire said quickly, trying to buy time. "We were leaving, but we have important information to—"

"Enough talking! You're all under arrest!"

The first guard lunged forward.

Startled, (Y/Cyb/N) reeled his servos, ready to activate his Algorithms..

*FWISH!*

"Wha—"

He gasped, his carrier and sire yanking him back simultaneously.

(Y/S/N) held up his servo, the 4th Algorithm surging through him.

*PING!*

The Quadirectional Keeper snapped into action, stopping the guard mid-leap. "W-What the—!?" He stuttered, his right wrist caught by an emblem of a white square with four orange arrows pointing outwards. "H-Hey!" He protested, trying to free his wrist. "You're the—"

"Not today!"

With a twist of his digits, he changed the insignia and added four red-orange triangles pointing inwardly. He flicked his wrist quickly and hurled the guard across the room with precise force.

*ZOOM!*

*THUD!*

The guard crashed into a stack of crates, knocking them over in a clatter of metal.

The second guard reacted immediately, drawing a blaster at (Y/Cyb/N).

*PING!*

(Y/C/N) reflexes kicked in, and she summoned the Cynatcher Algorithm, the blue holographic emblem glowing on her palm.

*Ping!*

The blaster was grabbed in a white hexagon of three arrows, varying shades of blue. "Break!" (Y/Cyb/n)'s carrier flicked her servo upward.

*SNAP!*

The barrel of the blaster snapped upward, completely disabling the weapon from the strong bent.

(Y/Cyb/N) watched in awe as his carrier quickly disarmed the second guard, the Cynatcher Algorithm crackling with blue energy in her servo. The disabled blaster clattered to the floor, leaving the guard defenseless. He staggered backward, clearly taken aback by the sudden display of power.

"Move!" (Y/Cyb/N)'s carrier shouted, grabbing his arm and pulling him forward. His injured sire limped behind them, clutching his wounded shoulder but still managing to summon the strength to keep up.

"[FRUSTRATED] We can't keep running like this!" (Y/Cyb/N) muttered, his optics darting between the guards and the exit. "They'll call for reinforcements!"

"We don't have a choice," his sire said between pained breaths, "We need to get out of here before more guards show up. Even if it's not here, that book is too dangerous for them to have. If they catch us now..."

His voice trailed off, but the implication was clear. (Y/S/N) and (Y/C/N) couldn't let the knowledge about the Algorithms or their past life fall into the wrong servos—espeically involving the higher-ups and council!

They bolted through the maze of the restricted section. Alarms blared throughout the Hall of Records. Red lights flashed overhead, casting ominous shadows on the walls as security drones began to swarm the area. (Y/Cyb/N)'s spark pounded in his chassis, his processors racing to figure out a way to escape.

"Can you use the Cerulean Warp?" He asked, glancing at his carrier.

She shook her helm. "Not enough time to stabilize a portal! We're too close to the drones—they'll track the warp signature."

(Y/Cyb/N) cursed under his breath, his servos flexing as the power of the Algorithms surged through him. His mind was reeling from the revelations about his origins, about the dangerous truth his creators had been hiding from him all this time. But right now, survival was all that mattered.

They neared an exit. And two more guards appeared, blocking their path. "Halt! You're under arrest!" one of them shouted, drawing their blasters.

Irritated, (Y/Cyb/n) was ready to protect his creators, but they were still insistent despite their exhaustion. "Get out of the way!" (Y/S/N) growled, his optics flashing with red determination.

*Crackle!*

Without hesitation, he summoned the Octo Hex, his left servo glowing with destructive energy.

*CRACK!*

*ZRRT—BOOM!*

With a sharp flick of his wrist, he unleashed the algorithm's power, causing the guards' weapons to malfunction and explode in their hands.

"Go!" he shouted to (Y/Cyb/n) and (Y/C/N), signaling them toward the now-clear exit.

They didn't waste any time rushing through the doors as the guards stumbled and shouted in confusion behind them. When they left the door, (Y/Cyb/n) paused, looking back at the place. He eyed the door, and several guards headed to the front, determined to chase them down. An idea popped into his head; it was risky, but he had to try.

"(Y/Cyb/n)! What are you doing!? We have to go!" (Y/C/N) shouted, helping (Y/S/N) with walking due to his injuries.

Running at the door, he activated his fifth Algorithm, Saboteur Catalyst. His servos sparked pink, and a holographic emblem of a white gear with rotating pink squares hovered above the space's width. "[DETERMINED] Close!"

*BAM!*

*THUD!*

He slammed his palm against the door, which the door immediately slammed shut.

*Bang! Bang!*

"Hey! Let us out!"

"Open up, door!"

The two guards trapped behind the door exclaimed, banging on the door.

(Y/Cyb/N) let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding as the door sealed with a satisfying clunk, cutting off the guards' pursuit. He could hear their frustrated voices and the pounding on the door from the other side, but it wouldn't open—not with his Saboteur Catalyst keeping it under his control. The pink glow of the algorithm faded from his servos, and the emblem disappeared as he took a step back.

"[RELIEVED] That should buy us some time," he muttered, glancing at his creators. His sire was leaning heavily against his carrier, his wound taking its toll. Even his usual stubbornness couldn't hide the exhaustion in his frame.

"Good work," his carrier said, her optics softening for a moment, though her face still held the tense lines of someone who knew they were far from safe. "But we can't stop here. We need to find a way off this place before they break through."

(Y/Cyb/N) nodded, though his thoughts were already racing ahead. He had barely scratched the surface of the Algorithms he could wield, and each use took a toll on his system. But there wasn't time to worry about that now. They had to get out fast.

They hurried down a narrow corridor, the sound of approaching drones echoing from behind. His carrier glanced at him, her optics flickering with concern. "Can you still use the Space Surfer? We need to put some distance between us and the drones."

(Y/Cyb/N) grimaced, feeling the strain in his circuits from using the Saboteur Catalyst, but he nodded. "[DETERMINED] I can manage." With a flick of his wrist, he activated the ninth Algorithm. A surge of limelight coalesced beneath his feet, forming a sleek platform that hovered just above the ground.

"[URGE] Get on!" he shouted to his creators, who quickly scrambled onto the hovering surface. (Y/Cyb/N) adjusted his stance, and with a quick burst of energy, the Space Surfer surged forward, carrying them through the winding corridors at incredible speed.

The blaring alarms gradually faded behind them as they zipped past security cameras and locked doors. They emerged from the restricted section into a massive, open atrium filled with towering archives and more guards rushing in from every direction.

"[FRUSTRATED] Scrap!" (Y/Cyb/N) growled under his breath, guiding the Space Surfer toward an upper level where they could lose themselves among the archives. But the moment they reached the platform, a squadron of drones appeared ahead, their weapons locked onto them.

"Not today," (Y/Cyb/N)'s carrier muttered steely, her servo crackling again with the Cynatcher Algorithm. With a swift motion, she tore a section of the metal railing free and hurled it toward the drones. The metal twisted in mid-air, striking several down in a shower of sparks.

"We need to keep moving!" his sire grimaced and urged, clutching his injured shoulder as they veered sharply to avoid the falling debris.

(Y/Cyb/N)'s optics scanned the atrium, searching for any possible escape route. His spark raced as he spotted an emergency exit high above. "[DETERMINED] There!" he shouted, angling the Space Surfer upward toward the distant hatch. It was their last chance.

But even as they neared the exit, the sounds of pursuit grew louder. More drones, more guards—they were closing in fast.

"[GRITTING DENTAS] Hang on!" (Y/Cyb/N) yelled, pushing the Space Surfer to its limits. The platform vibrated under the strain, its energy fluctuating dangerously. But they were so close now—just a few more meters...

And then they burst through the emergency hatch, the cool afternoon air of Cybertron hitting them like a wave. They had made it outside.

For now, at least, they were free.

But (Y/Cyb/N) knew this wasn't over. Not yet. He had a lot of questions. "[STERN] Carrier, Sire, when we get home," (Y/Cyb/n) turned to face his creators, following them quickly.

"You two have a lot of explaining to do."

The escape was intense, and (Y/Cyb/N) had indeed shown he was more than capable under pressure. The escape plan was executed with a combination of quick thinking and impressive use of his Algorithms, showcasing both his resourcefulness and the gravity of the situation.

They reached the safety of their home and the towering structure where his creators worked, and the gravity of their situation settled heavily on (Y/Cyb/N). His face was etched with concern, but his posture was resolute. The questions bubbling in his mind were only overshadowed by the immediate need to understand what had happened and what it meant for their future.

His carrier and sire exchanged glances, knowing full well that the revelations and the strain of the escape had left (Y/Cyb/N) in no mood for delays. They moved quickly through the tower's corridors, each step echoing the moment's urgency. The tower's interior was stark and utilitarian, designed more for function than comfort, reflecting their high-stakes world.

They arrived at their hidden room, one that had been a sanctuary in their previous lives but now seemed to hold the weight of countless unanswered questions. As they settled inside, (Y/Cyb/N) crossed his arms, his optics locking onto his creators.

"[STERN] Alright, start talking," (Y/Cyb/N) demanded. "What are these Codexes? What is this "banned book" you've been trying to steal?"

His carrier took a deep breath, her servo still crackling faintly with the remnants of her Cynatcher Algorithm. She glanced at (Y/S/N), who was still wincing from his injuries but nodded in support.

"First, let us explain the Codexes," his carrier began, her tone steady despite the gravity of their situation. "The Codexes are the First Generation of Cybertronians when they traveled to the surface. Before Codexes were... well, Codexes, they were once Cybertronians."

"[INQUIRY] The surface?" (Y/Cyb/n) inquired.

"It's an area that no one adventures there." (Y/S/N) chimed in. "Well... that's at least what the social norms say..." He exchanged a knowing glance at (Y/C/N).

"Continuing, upon reaching the surface. They have acquired a special power, making them the first users to hold the Algorithmic Command—otherwise known as the 12 Algorithms, which are sources of incredible power and knowledge." His carrier proceeded to continue speaking about history.

"The twelve Algorithms were meant to be shared to guide Cybertron's evolution... but the council did not allow it." She held herself back from telling the whole truth about the history of the Codexes.

"(Y/Cyb/N)," his sire added, his voice strained but firm. "Your existence is tied to these Algorithms. When you were born, you had a lot of... defects. So we thought downloading all the 12 Algorithms could cure you... but it led you to where you are today. Your defects—which you need to wear a lopsided helm to keep your shawl upright and have to narrate your actions and emotions reflexively despite displaying both elements."

(Y/Cyb/N) absorbed the information, his optics narrowing as he processed what his creators had just revealed. The weight of his origins, the Codexes, and the Algorithms bore down on him like never before.

"So, the council knew about the Algorithms," he muttered, piecing it together. "[DETERMINED] And they've kept them secret all this time? Why? What's so dangerous about them?"

His carrier sighed, her optics flickering with regret and resolve. "The council feared the power the Algorithms could give Cybertronians. They believed controlling that power would lead to chaos, rebellion—even war. So, they restricted access to the Codexes, labeling them as dangerous Cybertronians. The book we tried to take... it holds our history and the full potential of the Algorithms, including the ones you haven't been able to access."

"But why not tell me if you're a user of it too?" (Y/Cyb/n) inquired.

His sire winced again, leaning against the wall as he continued, "We wanted to protect you. But now that the council knows we're involved, they'll come after us—and you. We didn't just try and take the book for power. We did it to protect you and let you know the truth."

(Y/Cyb/N)'s optics flickered with disbelief and anger. "[ANGUISHED] So... is that why I'm not allowed to use my powers and have to always hide my insignia?"

His carrier stepped forward, placing a servo gently on his arm. "We never wanted you to be part of this. We tried to shield you from the truth for as long as we could... but now we dragged you into a fight we didn't want you to be in. You deserve to know everything. We're... sorry..."

There was a moment of tense silence between the family, with the carrier and sire waiting for their son's reaction while (Y/Cyb/n) was processing the information that was kept from him for a long time.

"...Carrier, Sire, I forgive you."

The trans-mech exhaled slowly. "Although I am still mad you've kept things from me, it's important we have learned from our mistakes and ensure it never happens again." (Y/Cyb/n) sighed softly.

His sire and carrier looked at each other with surprise, blinking as they processed their son's words. (Y/Cyb/n) walked up to them, hugging them. "I love you guys... but don't do something so dangerous if you're trying to protect me."

(Y/Cyb/N) held his creators tightly, the warmth of the embrace contrasting with the icy shock still rippling through his frame. His optics flickered between frustration and relief as he stood between the two beings who had shaped his life, now facing a reality that had been hidden from him for so long.

His carrier's grip on his arm tightened, her optics dim with guilt. "We were never meant to involve you in this... not like this." Her voice trembled, but there was a steely determination beneath her words. "But the council, they'll stop at nothing to destroy the Codexes' legacy. If they find out you carry the Algorithms—"

"They'll come for me," (Y/Cyb/N) finished the thought, stepping back slightly. "[RESOLUTE] But I'm not afraid of them. I've already survived in hiding, and now that I know the truth, I'm not going to hide anymore."

His sire, leaning heavily against the wall, let out a strained sigh. "You're brave, but this is bigger than you realize. The council has control over Cybertron. They won't just target you—they'll wipe out anyone connected to the Codexes. That's why we had to act. The banned book... it's more than just history. It contains the blueprint for unlocking the true potential of the 12 Algorithms. They don't want anyone to access that power."

"Then why try to keep it from me for so long?" (Y/Cyb/N)'s voice was sharper now, a blend of betrayal and sadness lacing his words. "I could've helped! I could've been ready!"

His carrier glanced down, her spark aching at the sight of her son's pain. "Because we didn't want you to become a weapon," she admitted quietly. "We were scared that if you knew, you'd be consumed by the same war that destroyed the Codexes. The same power that gave them their abilities also led to their downfall. We didn't want that for you."

The weight of her words settled over (Y/Cyb/N) like a heavy shroud. He glanced between them, his thoughts swirling. His life—his very existence—was tied to something ancient, something far beyond the mere Algorithms he wielded. And now, he was being pulled into a battle he hadn't chosen, but one that had chosen him from the moment he was born.

For a moment, the room was silent, the hum of the tower's mechanisms the only sound. Then (Y/Cyb/N) spoke, his voice low but filled with determination. "[RESOLVED] I understand why you did it. But from now on, no more secrets. We face this together. I won't let the council control my life or my future. Whatever they're hiding in that book... we'll find it, and we'll stop them."

His sire managed a small smile despite the tension. "We'll stand with you, son. Whatever comes next, we face it as a family."

His carrier gently pulled him back into the embrace, her voice soft. "We love you, (Y/Cyb/N). We always have. And we'll fight to protect you—just as you're ready to protect us."

(Y/Cyb/N) nodded, feeling the weight of responsibility settle on his shoulders. But there was also a spark of hope.

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matchalovertrait · 8 months ago

Text

Uh oh, it wasn't Dulce, was it? She is known for being.. well, Dulce. Find out in the next segment.

Previous / Next (Transcript under the cut)

(1.) [Carlo] This is...

[Mia] Dulce-

(2.) [Sofia] It's amazing! And with the added bacon bits? There's added flavor and crunch. I like these a lot.

(3.) [Mia] Yes, and somehow everything altogether isn't overwhelming. Every ingredient shines in harmony.

[Carlo] Delicious, but personally, I feel like the bacon bits make these a bit heavy for an appetizer.

(4.) [Dulce] Thank you, judges.

[Andrea] Next, here's Rubiya's appetizer!

(5.) [Rubiya] Okayy, Dulce! I see you. She's setting the bar high and I'm older than her. Well, we're the same age right now, but I'm in a grade above her at school. Anyway, my goal is to impress all three judges. Let's do this.

(6.) [Rubiya] Judges, I present to you: Spaghetti with merguez sausage meatballs and shakshuka sauce with a side of garlic flatbread with pea shoots.

(7.) [Carlo] The meatballs are a bit dry... but I suppose if you put enough of the sauce on them they're not so bad.

(8.) [Mia] Oh hush now, Carlo. That's what the sauce is there for.

[Carlo] It's good, though. It's good.

[Mia] Rubiya, let me add that I thoroughly enjoy the texture of your pasta as well.

(9.) [Rubiya] Thank you, judges. I appreciate the feedback.

[Andrea] Lastly, we have Chef Alex's appetizer.

(10.) [Alex] It's time.

(11.) [Alex] Judges, I give you a raclette with merguez sausage, pea shoots, vegetable flatbread, and a side of shakshuka sauce.

(12.) [Sofia] Lovely presentation, Chef Alex.

[Carlo] It seems lazy to me, but at least you didn't try to replace marinara sauce with shakshuka sauce and call it a day.

[Mia] I can't wait to try everything.

(13.) [Mia] I was a bit hesitant about the sauce being used as a side, but whatever you added to it really made it more complex. Everything is delicious.

(14.) [Sofia] The type of cheese you chose too... it's interesting.

(15.) [Carlo] I wish you did more with the pea shoots, but the dish itself works.

(16.) [Alex] Thank you, judges.

[Andrea] Thank you, chefs! Please proceed to the room next door so that the judges can begin their discussion.

(17.) *Muffled voices*

(18.) [Lewis] Well, it was nice meeting everyone. Do you guys want to share phone numbers to keep in contact with each other?

[Rubiya] Lewis! Don't say that! It's not certain that you're the one who's diced.

(19.) [Dulce] For sure it's not you, Rubiya. Chef Mia stood up for you and this is basically her show. That spaghetti did look awesome in every way.

[Rubiya] Thank you! So did your pizza wedges.

(20.) [Alex] Yeah, everyone here has talent and technique... and make company. It would be cool to get everyone's number.

[Lewis] Yes! Let's do it.

[Rubiya] Yay!!!

(21.) [Alex] Well, I'm not some heartless monster. I do feel bad for Lewis, I guess.

(22.) [Andrea] Welcome back to the judges' table, chefs. Our judges have made their decision.

(23.) N/A

(24.) [Mia] Chefs, thank you for the appetizers you have prepared for us. The various dishes we had were splendid.

[Carlo] We had much to discuss, both good and bad things despite there being an obvious choice regarding who should be diced.

(25.) [Sofia] However, we discovered something... turns out, we have a bigger issue than burnt croutons.

(26.) [Mia] Somebody here did not fully follow the rules of Diced Junior.

#posting two parts today cuz i don't like how very little was covered in the last part!!#now i feel comfortable leaving it off here 😌😌😈#dang how many times have i typed “burnt” and “croutons” in all these posts combined #dulce alegria #rubiya jabal #alex marino #lewis mack #tjolc gen 1 #tjolc #alegria legacy #matchalovertrait #carlo mancini #mia d'angelo ramirez #sofia bjergsen #sims 4 #ts4 #sims #sims 4 legacy #ts4 simblr

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wonies-cheeks · 6 months ago

Text

Mint Choco | k.sn

Genre: fluff

W/C: 1.4k

⭑*•̩̩͙⊱••••✩••••̩̩͙⊰•*⭑*•̩̩͙⊱••••✩••••̩̩͙⊰•*⭑*•̩̩͙⊱••••✩••••̩̩͙⊰•*

The sun was shining brightly as you and your boyfriend, Sunoo, strolled down the bustling streets of your favorite neighborhood. It was the perfect day for a sweet treat, and both of you had agreed that ice cream was the way to go. You couldn't help but smile as you walked hand in hand, the warm breeze ruffling your hair and the sound of laughter filling the air.

Sunoo's excitement was palpable as you approached the charming little ice cream parlor. It was one of those old-fashioned places with a striped awning and a cheerful sign that read "Sweet Treats." Sunoo had been talking about getting ice cream all day, and you knew exactly why. He had a particular fondness for mint chocolate chip, a flavor you weren't too keen on.

As you entered the parlor, the cool air and the sweet scent of freshly made waffle cones greeted you. The walls were lined with colorful tubs of ice cream, each one more tempting than the last. Sunoo's eyes lit up as he scanned the options, and you could already see him zeroing in on his beloved mint choco.

"Come on, you have to try it this time," Sunoo said, his voice filled with determination as he pulled you towards the counter. "I promise you'll like it."

You sighed, knowing how stubborn he could be when it came to his favorite things. "Sunoo, you know I'm not a fan of mint choco. It tastes like toothpaste."

He pouted, giving you those puppy dog eyes that always melted your resolve. "Please, just one bite. For me?"

You couldn't resist him when he looked at you like that. Reluctantly, you nodded. "Fine, one bite. But if I don't like it, you're getting me something else."

Sunoo's face lit up with a triumphant smile. "Deal!"

He quickly ordered a scoop of mint chocolate chip in a waffle cone and a scoop of your favorite flavor, strawberry, in a cup. As you waited for your orders, Sunoo's excitement was contagious, and you found yourself looking forward to trying the ice cream, if only to see him so happy.

When the ice cream was ready, Sunoo handed you the cup of strawberry and held up his cone of mint choco triumphantly. "Ready for the best ice cream experience of your life?"

You rolled your eyes playfully but couldn't help but smile. "Let's see about that."

Sunoo scooped up a generous bite of his mint choco and held it out to you. "Open wide!"

With a mix of reluctance and curiosity, you opened your mouth and let him feed you the spoonful. The cold, creamy texture hit your tongue first, followed by the refreshing mint flavor and the rich chocolate chips. To your surprise, it wasn't as bad as you remembered. In fact, it was quite enjoyable.

You chewed thoughtfully and then swallowed, looking at Sunoo with raised eyebrows. "Okay, it's not bad."

Sunoo's eyes sparkled with delight. "See? I knew you'd like it!"

Before you could respond, he leaned in and planted a sweet, tender kiss on your lips. It was a kiss filled with happiness and affection, and it made your heart flutter. His lips were cool from the ice cream, and you tasted the faint hint of mint and chocolate, which made the kiss all the more memorable.

When he pulled back, you were both smiling, your faces inches apart. "You always know how to make things better," you said softly.

"And you make everything worth it," he replied, his voice just as gentle.

As you continued enjoying your ice cream, Sunoo couldn’t help but tease you. "I told you mint choco was amazing. Maybe next time you'll trust my impeccable taste."

You chuckled and nudged him playfully. "Impeccable taste? Let's not get ahead of ourselves. One good flavor doesn't make you an ice cream connoisseur."

Sunoo gasped dramatically, placing a hand over his heart. "How dare you question my refined palate! I'll have you know I have an excellent track record with ice cream."

"Sure, sure," you teased back. "But remember the time you insisted that vanilla with ketchup was a gourmet combo?"

He winced, recalling the failed experiment. "Okay, I'll admit that was a misstep. But mint choco is different, and you liked it!"

"I did, didn't I?" you admitted with a smile, taking another bite of your strawberry ice cream. "But don't think that means I'll be switching my favorite flavor anytime soon."

Sunoo grinned mischievously. "We'll see about that. Maybe I'll convert you to mint choco one scoop at a time."

"You're welcome to try," you replied, matching his playful tone. "But don't get too confident."

The two of you continued to banter back and forth, the conversation filled with laughter and light-hearted teasing. You felt a warm sense of contentment as you shared these moments with Sunoo, enjoying the simple pleasure of each other's company.

After finishing your ice cream, you decided to take a leisurely walk through the nearby park. The path was lined with blooming flowers, and the gentle rustling of leaves created a soothing backdrop. Sunoo held your hand as you strolled, occasionally swinging your intertwined fingers and pointing out interesting sights along the way.

"Look at that squirrel," he said, nodding towards a fluffy-tailed creature darting up a tree. "It's probably searching for more mint choco lovers to join its secret squirrel ice cream club."

You giggled, shaking your head. "You and your mint choco obsession. I wouldn't be surprised if you started a club yourself."

"Not a bad idea," he mused, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "But you'd be my first recruit. We could have matching mint choco uniforms and everything."

"Oh no, count me out," you laughed. "I'm sticking to strawberry."

As the sun began to set, casting a golden glow over the park, you found a cozy bench overlooking a serene pond. You both sat down, and Sunoo wrapped his arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. The world seemed to slow down as you watched the ducks glide across the water, and you felt a deep sense of peace.

"You know," Sunoo said softly, breaking the comfortable silence. "I'm really glad we did this today. It's been perfect."

You looked up at him, your heart swelling with affection. "Me too, Sunoo. Thank you for making it special."

He leaned down and pressed another sweet kiss to your lips, this one lingering a bit longer, filled with tenderness and warmth. When he pulled back, his eyes held a soft, loving gaze that made your heart flutter.

"Let's make a promise," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "To always find time for moments like these, no matter how busy life gets."

You smiled, your heart brimming with love and happiness. "I promise."

As the sky darkened and the stars began to twinkle above, you sat there in each other's arms, savoring the magic of the evening. The memory of the ice cream parlor, the playful banter, and the sweet kisses would stay with you, a cherished reminder of the love and joy you shared with Sunoo. And while you might not become a full-fledged mint choco convert, you knew that trying new things with him by your side made every experience sweeter.

⭑*•̩̩͙⊱••••✩••••̩̩͙⊰•*⭑*•̩̩͙⊱••••✩••••̩̩͙⊰•*⭑*•̩̩͙⊱••••✩••••̩̩͙⊰•*

#kim sunoo #enhypen x reader #enhypen fluff #enhypen imagines #enha sunoo #enhypen sunoo #sunoo #sunoo kim #enhypen

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ccraccz · 6 months ago

Text

CLARY SAGE

┏━°⌜防風鈴 ⌟°━┓

Chapter 3

┗━°⌜防風鈴 ⌟°━┛

┌──❀*̥˚───❀*̥˚─┐

30 minutes after

└───❀*̥˚───❀*̥˚┘

Having taken off his blazer, Ryuu and the rest of the group painted the over graffiti that was on the wall, rolling on coat after coat to be able to cover the both amazing and vulgar arts. Finishing his part, he walks back and behind Hiragi. “Hey, Owner! We got this side taken care of!”

“Aaah, thank you so much!” The owner comes up to them, holding a box of freshly cooked taiyaki. Walking behind the Sugishita, Ryuu looked at Suo and Nirei from the corner of his eye, who were nomming on their taiyaki. The treat was still warm in his hand, getting cooler and cooler every second he avoided eating it. It seemed that Suo felt his stare, turning towards him with a smile.

“Yes, Osamu?”

“Uhm… What is this?” Ryuu held out the treat towards Suo, who stared at him bewildered, Nirei peeking from beside him, also taken off guard by the question.

“It’s called Taiyaki, a fish-shaped cake filled with sweet red bean paste,” Suo smiles at Ryuu, encouraging him to take a bite of the treat. Bringing it to his lips, he opens his mouth to take a small bite of the warm fish cake treat. Both Suo and Nirei looked at him expectantly, hoping that he would like the sweet, though they would understand if he didn’t. Ryuu smiled as the flavor and texture of the sweet invaded his taste buds, walking slowing down as he focused on eating.

KA-TUNK KA-TUNK KA-TUNK KA-TUNK KA-TUNK KA-TUNK KA-TUNK KA-TUNK KA-TUNK KA-TUNK KA-TUNK KA-TUNK KA-TUNK KA-TUNK KA-TUNK KA-TUNK GWOOOOO

The group walks closer to the tunnel under the train, a weird looking lion drawing atop of the entrance. Ryuu takes another bite from the taiyaki as Nirei starts to scold Sakura.

“We’re right at the border between Bofurin and Another team’s turf. We can’t, under any circumstance, cause any trouble past this train track!”

“Just like how every country has their own laws… our rules don’t mean crap over there.”

“The team that controls that turf are… The Devotees of Power.” “That’sh a shick name…” Ryuu mumbles with his mouth full, having taken his last bite of taiyaki, Suo chuckling beside him at his pronunciation.

Getting ready to turn around, a voice cuts through their conversation.

“STOP RIGHT THERE!”

Everyone’s heads turned back to the tunnel, a boy with bruises running towards the tunnel from the other side catching their eye.

Hiragi stiffened, rushing forwards to see if it was true.

“THAT’S SAN MIDDLE SCHOOL’S UNIFORM?!”

“WHAT THE HELL ARE YA DOIN’ OVER THERE?! HURRY AND GET BACK HERE!!” Hiragi calls out, worried for the kid.

“AAAH!” Nirei yells “BEHIND HIM…! THEY’RE WEARING ORANGE BASEBALL JACKETS…”

“IT’S SHISHITOREN!!”

Ryuu sucks in a breath as he gets ready to throw his bag off of him and fight, but the kid who’s running, trips and falls. The predator from shishitoren gets knocked back, the middle schooler landing in the arms of Ryuu, who decided to run over and catch the falling boy instead of fighting. Both Sakura and Sugishita land in front of Ryuu and the middle schooler, having kicked away a member of the so-called lions.

"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!” Nirei yells out in fear, his voice trembling as he continues. “W-We took the first swing… in another team’s turf…” “Nirei…”

“What are you on about?” “If the kid is one of us…” “Then they’re the ones who struck first.”

All three of them spoke, but Ryuu moved quickly and efficiently, making the middle schooler face him. “Let me check injuries please.”

“Ah… Y-Yes…” Ryuu smiled slightly, taking out the first aid kit he carries, opening it and putting on some gloves. He starts disinfecting the wound the kid got on the side of his face before putting some ointment and placing a white bandage on it.

“There, you could be doing gr- better in about three to five days.” “Umh…? Thank you so much…” Standing up and picking up the middle schooler, pushing him back towards Hiragi, Suo, and Nirei before looking at the backs of the two tanks of first years. The two members of Shishitoren who weren’t with the other guy poke and prod at the injured male.

“Aaah… shit. Welp, he’s completely knocked out.” “He went down with just one kick.” Ryuu frowns, nose scrunching at the sight. ‘Aren’t those two on the same side? Why are they picking at him and not helping him out?’

“PATHETIC…” Ryuu takes a breath at the word, eye widening as he clenches his fists and bites his lip. He never liked that word, it was degrading and just purely disgusting in his vocabulary.

Ka-clack ka-clack Ka-clack ka-clack Ka-clack ka-clack Ka-clack ka-clack

“Well?” The new figure says “What’s all this, now?”

His voice was low and slow, he was wearing a monk working outfit, and some lifted sandals that Ryuu didn’t remember the name of. The two males who were picking at the fallen dude quickly made way for the new guy, who’s attitude and way of talking made him quite irritated. “I was wondering what was happening there…” He spoke “When I saw one of our guys zoomin’ by…”

Ryuu takes off his bag and holds it behind him, keeping the first aid kit in his other hand, and waves it slightly, signaling for one of the group members to grab it from his hands. It gets taken by Suo, who gives it to Nirei to hold.

Hiragi grits his teeth, grinding them together as he mumbles “Of all the people to show… It just HAD to be him…”

“Shishitoren’s second in command,” Ryuu listened in, feeling like something worse was going to happen. “Jo Togame.”

“Oh, Whu? Furin? Over on this side?” Jo pushes down his orange shades, before looking down at his fallen underling, “WHat The?! Saruwatari?! What Happened to YOU?!” The brunette glares at the situation, before being pushed back by Hiragi, who walks at an angle and speaks up. “That punk a yours chasin’ one of our own around.” Second in command looks up in shock at the entrance of Hiragi. “Why, if it isn’t Hiragi! Yoooo!” He slowly speaks, waving around his Ramune before pointing down at the knocked out member.

“So, was THIS… Your work of art?” He grins, bringing the Ramune up and pointing at them. The creepy grin makes them all shudder. Ryuu bites his bottom lip with his canine, before letting it go as the Saru-whatever picks himself up.

“YOU LITTLE SHITS! THIS AIN’T NO GODDAMN GAME! WE’VE GOT RULES HERE! WE DON’T MESS AROUND WITH YOUR TURF, AND YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO STAY OUTTA OURS!!” It seems like he didn’t notice that their higher up was behind him as he spoke, the two that were with him cringing at the sight of the male talking back. “PAST THE DAMN TRAIN TRACKS IS SHISHITOREN’S DOMAIN!! DON’T GO STRUTTIN’ INTO OUR TURF… LIKE YOU OWN THE GODDAMN… place”

KA CRASH

Jo strikes the dude with the Ramune bottle that was in his hand.

Everyone stares in shock, confused at the situation that’s happening. Ryuu’s mouth is open, wanting to say something, but his voice is stuck in his throat. “OUR turf?” Jo yanks up the male by the hair, bringing his fist back before punching him.

THWAK THWAK THWAK THWAK

Looking at the two other members, one was giggling and the other stared at the attack, nonchalant.

“Didn’t you get your face beat in? THAT MAKES YOU WEAK!”

“-THAT MAKES YOU WEAK RYUU.”

Weak, his gramps favorite word. Pathetic, what he used as a description. His grandfather has an amazing ability to be able to get under Ryuu’s skin, it was sickening, and borderline abusive. Ryuu was on the floor, holding his tummy, nose bleeding from the amount of stress his seven year old body has been going through. He’s lucky that Gramps wasn’t physically training him. Or he would have been dead.

“STOP!!” Hiragi steps up, taking action and attracting the attention towards him. It breaks Ryuu out of his trance, breathing heavily at the memory. “What?” “Isn’t he one of your guys?!” Hiragi scolds him, though Jo just tilts his head in fake confusion.

“Who’re you talkin’ about?”

Ryuu slowly walks forwards, quietly and sneakily walking, more than silent as he steps forward. He doesn’t dare touch Jo Togame, eyes wide and focused, hand clutching the first aid kit hard enough that his knuckles are turning white. Jo Togame takes off the male’s jacket in a flash. Ryuu quickly grabs the bloodied male and drags him over to a wall, sitting him up and opening the first aid kit beside him.

Ryuu ignored what was happening behind him, quickly working on bandaging the male’s face and head up. He breathed in, the smell of blood seeping into his nose and taking over his taste buds, the metal taste not bothering him.

The brunette quickly works on getting the bigger chinks of glass out of the dudes head, gently pulling at them and throwing them to the floor before cleaning up the wound. He huffs, not being giving up on getting the other, smaller but holdable chunks of glass as one of them pierces his skin.

Ryuu cleans off his hands, disinfecting them before efficiently wrapping the dude’s head with a white bandage, and placing some gauze in his nose.

Standing up, Ryuu turns around as Jo starts walking away. “Hey…” He calls out from the side, both groups looking towards him. “Bring him to the nearest hospital, or urgent care, or something, I don’t care.” Ryuu points to the guy on the floor, having been bandaged up and taken care of. “You guys wouldn’t want a charge on your names wouldn’t ya?”

Everyone was staring at him with wide eyes, shocked that he was able to treat the dude in such a short time. “He has glass impaled on his head, and he most likely has a broken nose and jaw due to the kicks and punches he got,” Ryuu crouches and grabs his first aid kit, and then gets back up and walks towards his group. “The last thing you could do is take him somewhere to get taken care of, then you won’t have to ever see him again.”

Jo Togame shrugs with a smirk, grabbing the bloodied teen and dragging him around as Ryuu turns his head to the side to look at the taller male over his shoulder. “Pick him up correctly please, you wouldn’t want the pieces of glass to impale him through his skull and kill him would you?” He asks loudly, “Then you would have a murder charge on yours and Shishitoren’s name.”

Ryuu smiles and turns around, taking his bag out of Nirei’s hands and putting the, now messy and bloodied, kit inside. Everything is silent as the Shishitoren gang walks away, the second in command’s sandals clanking against the floor every step he takes.

“HOOOOOLD UP! WHAT HAVE YOU TWO DONE?!??!”

“YOU’VE…” Nirei sobs, “YOU’VE DECLARED TOTAL WAR AGAINST THEM!!!”

“All right, that’s enough. Calm down, Nirei-kun,” Suo walks over, Ryuu’s sleeve in one hand and patting Nirei’s back with the other. “Sooo, I know I kinda missed my cue to interrupt you guys, but…”

Ryuu stares at the third year, who is about to overdose on Gaskun 10’s.

“Looking at THAT MESS, I assume not saying anything was the right choice.” “Hiragi-san, it would be for the best that you follow the dose needed for intake on the instructions in the back of the box,” Ryuu raised his hand, sweat dripping due to the over exaggeration of the male “You wouldn’t want to overdose.”

“SAKURA-SAN!” Nirei turns around and starts scolding again, “THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT!” “IF YOU DIDN’T EDGE HIM ON AT THE END THERE, THEN IT SOUNDED LIKE WE COULD’VE GOTTEN AWAY SCOTT-FREE!!”

“Togame…” Hiragi butts in, popping one of the pills in his mouth “He ain’t that easygoing, y’know?”

That makes Ryuu pay attention. “Among the guys in Shishitoren, He’s extra particular ‘bout their territory. He wouldn’t have let us go that easily.” “Is that so…?” Nirei slumps forward a bit in defeat. “What’s done is done.”

“Besides…” Hiragi looks down, making Ryuu stand up straighter, eyebrows furrowing closer together. “I should’ve been the one to step in first… Sorry.” Hiragi apologizes quickly , making everyone stare at him in shock, though the tension quickly breaks as he walks forward towards the middle schooler.

“Let's head back to the school.”

“You, from San Middle…” “I-I’m Sasaki…” “Great. Sakaki, Come with us.” Walking away, Ryuu is quick to walk over and pick up the kid by his armpits, like a cat, and placing him back on his feet.

“We gotta report everything… To Umemiya.”

┌──❀*̥˚───❀*̥˚─┐

At the school

└───❀*̥˚───❀*̥˚┘

Walking up the stairs, all that could be heard were the steps of the group and Hiragi’s groans. Ryuu was walking beside the middle schooler, making sure he was fine and was able to walk up the stairs without falling. Though he could feel the nervousness radiating from the kid.

Reaching the door at the top of the stairs, Hiragi grips the knob and turns it, pushing the door open and letting the light inside the stairway. Ryuu smiled at the state of the roof of the school. It seemed to be quite cozy and comfortable up there. The smell of mulch, dirt, and wet grass invades their senses, the color green surrounding them.

On the roof, on one side of the entrance, are two beach chairs, a volleyball court, a ping pong table, and a couch. On the other side, there is an amazingly large tree, roots growing out and around the school, there being a path to be able to get to the other side of the school roof above its protruding roots. Under the tree, there is a gazebo and farther off, there are some garden beds laying about. The freshmen looked around in amazement, minus Sugishita. “Wh…What in the…” Sakura mumbled in shock, having expected everything but this.

Hiragi walked away, calling out to the leader. “Umemiya!” That brought the attention back to the main reason as to why they are there. To meet the rep and tell him what happened at the border of the town.

“Yo, Hiragi! Some take a look at this!” The crouching male turns around with a large smile, two potted plants in his hands. “The eggplants and green peppers are growing strong!!” “We can have a full-on barbecue with everyone in summer!!”

If Ryuu wasn’t blinded by the sun, he was now blinded by the smile that Umemiya has shown them. Ryuu chuckles, blocking his eyes from the brightness of the white haired male’s smile and sura.

“Umemiya.” “We’ve got trouble.”

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yoonavii · 1 year ago

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𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐃 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐒

Regency Era! Law x F! reader

Description: Lady Y/N defies societal norms with her down-to-earth nature, setting her apart from other noble ladies. During her debut, she captures the attention of numerous suitors, but her heart is unexpectedly drawn to Lord Trafalgar Law, a brooding and mysterious Duke known for his coldness towards women. As their relationship develops, they face the challenges of unraveling Lord Trafalgar’s enigmatic nature and navigating their contrasting personalities amidst societal expectations. Will their connection withstand the obstacles they encounter? or will it crumble?

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄

As the day of the grand gala finally dawns, anticipation courses through your veins, filling you with a mix of excitement and nervousness. Sneaking into the bustling kitchen, you marvel at the scene before you—the skilled chefs working their culinary magic, the intoxicating aromas that waft through the air, and the meticulous organization orchestrated by the lady housekeeper. Your eyes dance around the room, taking in the sight of the maids and male servants lined up, awaiting their instructions. Among them, you catch sight of Emily, who meets your gaze and smiles, a flicker of camaraderie passing between you. But before you can exchange words, the housekeeper’s sharp voice pierces the air, reprimanding Emily for a momentary lapse in attention. A stifled laugh escapes you at the sight, but you quickly quieten, not wanting to draw unwanted attention.

Amidst the flurry of activity, your attention is captured by the figure of Crosby Pine, the head chef. His family has faithfully served your family for generations, their loyalty and culinary expertise intertwined with the very fabric of your estate. Crosby, a man both kind and professional, occasionally reveals his down-to-earth nature, making him a cherished presence in the kitchen. Spotting you amidst the commotion, Crosby’s eyes light up, and he greets you warmly. “Ah, Lady Y/n, it’s a pleasure to see you,” he says with genuine warmth. His offer to be his taste tester for a moment piques your interest, and without hesitation, you agree, eager to explore the culinary delights created for the gala.

Following Crosby to a table laden with an array of dishes, he begins listing them off, his voice laced with pride and excitement. You listen intently, your senses enlivened by the descriptions of flavors and ingredients. And then, your eyes settle on a pot dish that exudes an unfamiliar yet enticing richness of color. Intrigued, you interrupt Crosby, your curiosity getting the better of you. “What is this dish?” you inquire, your voice tinged with anticipation. Crosby’s face lights up as he replies, “Ah, that’s the Albondigas, a Spanish delicacy. It’s a hearty meatball stew that’s quite popular in the town of Dressrosa.” He goes on to describe the ingredients he used, painting a vivid picture of the dish’s complex flavors.

He adds, a note of significance in his voice, “And you know, Lady Y/n, I made it because it happens to be the Duke’s favorite.” Your heart skips a beat, your mind racing to process this unexpected revelation. The Duke, whose encounter you had on the countryside ride, would be attending the gala. The realization leaves you flabbergasted, a mix of emotions swirling within you. As if sensing your astonishment, Crosby dips a spoon into the Albondigas and lifts it to your lips. You take a tentative taste, and the explosion of flavors dances across your palate, leaving you utterly amazed. The dish is a symphony of savory notes, a perfect blend of spices and textures. “Magnificent,” you breathe, a spark of delight igniting in your eyes. The Duke’s favorite dish has captivated your taste buds, further heightening the intrigue surrounding his presence at the upcoming event.

As you savor the Albondigas, its exquisite flavors lingering on your tongue, you can’t help but wonder what the gala holds in store. The path ahead seems entwined with the unexpected, promising a night of revelry, secrets, and the unfolding of potential destinies. With each bite, you become even more captivated by the tantalizing mysteries that await you at the grand gala.

———

As your stepmother awakens in her lover’s estate, a soft smile dances upon her lips as she gazes at her paramour’s peaceful slumber. She rises from the bed, the sheets cascading around her graceful figure, and with a sense of quiet satisfaction, she summons the maids of the estate. The maids, well-versed in attending to your stepmother’s every need, promptly respond to her summons. They enter the room, their presence a mix of deference and efficiency, ready to assist her in preparing for the day. With meticulous care, the maids select a selection of garments befitting the stepmother’s elevated status. They delicately dress her in elegant attire, the fabrics cascading around her form, accentuating her grace and sophistication.

As the stepmother’s transformation unfolds, she exudes an air of confidence and allure. Each touch of the maids’ hands serves to enhance her natural beauty, highlighting her features and ensuring that she radiates a regal presence. Once she is fully dressed, your stepmother casts a final glance at her lover, the hint of a secret shared between them lingering in the air. Her smile deepens as she appreciates the moment, knowing that the world beyond this private sanctuary awaits her return. With her preparations complete, the stepmother bids farewell to her lover’s estate, her steps marked by a mix of satisfaction and anticipation. The maids, their duty fulfilled, quietly retreat, leaving her to navigate the complexities of her double life with poise and discretion. As she departs, she carries with her the memories of stolen moments and whispered promises, bound by the intoxicating allure of her clandestine affair. The weight of her secrets and the thrill of her hidden desires fuel her journey back to her own home, where the façade of a dutiful wife and stepmother awaits her return.

As the stepmother settles into the plush carriage, the soft rustle of her gown accompanies her every move. With an air of authority, she turns to her trusted head maid, a beacon of loyalty and discretion. “Tell me, has everything been prepared for Y/n’s social debut?” she inquires, her voice tinged with a blend of curiosity and satisfaction.

The head maid nods, her expression displaying a mix of respect and competence. “Yes, my Lady,” she replies, her tone filled with confidence. “All the necessary arrangements have been made, ensuring that Lady Y/n will be presented in the most favorable light.” A small smile curves the stepmother’s lips, her eyes glinting with a hint of intrigue. She delicately unfolds a hand-held fan, using it to gently alleviate the heat of the day as she contemplates her next move. “Excellent,” she murmurs, her voice carrying a note of satisfaction. “Now, my dear, I want you to spread a particular rumor throughout the social circles.” The head maid’s eyes widened slightly, her attention fully captured by her stepmother’s command. “What rumor would that be, my Lady?” she inquires, her voice a whisper of anticipation.

The stepmother leans in closer, her words laced with a calculated determination. “Spread the word that Lady Y/n is now available for courting,” she instructs, her tone betraying a touch of mischief. “Let it be known that she is ready to embark on the path of courtship and find a suitable match among the eligible gentlemen of our society.” The head maid’s brows furrow slightly, a momentary pause reflecting the weight of the task at hand. But with a nod of understanding, she acquiesces. “Consider it done, my Lady,” she replies, her voice a whisper of commitment. “I shall discreetly disseminate the rumor, ensuring that Lady Y/n’s availability becomes the talk of the town.”

A sense of satisfaction settles over your stepmother as she gazes out the window, her mind already weaving the web of possibilities that this newfound rumor will bring. She envisions the social events, the whispered conversations, and the eager suitors vying for your attention. It is a strategic move, a means to further the family’s interests and solidify their standing within the intricate dance of high society. As the carriage glides through the streets, your stepmother’s plans unfold, a carefully orchestrated symphony of ambition and manipulation. She is poised and ready to navigate the treacherous waters of courtship, her every move guided by calculated intent.

Little does she know, however, that the seeds she sows may yield unexpected consequences, intertwining the fates of those involved in ways she cannot foresee. The realm of romance and courtship holds both promise and peril, and as the rumor spreads, it sets in motion a chain of events that will shape the destinies of all involved.

——-

The Viscount’s brows furrow deeply as he listens to the maid’s words, his heart sinking with each revelation. His voice trembles slightly as he struggles to process the weight of the news. “How could she? How could the Viscountess betray our family in such a way?” he exclaims, a mix of shock and anguish coloring his tone. “Tell me, Margaret, where is she? What is the meaning of this?”

Margaret, the maid who had once been a trusted member of the household, lowers her gaze, a mix of guilt and trepidation etched upon her features. “I… I’m sorry, my Lord,” she stammers, her voice quivering with unease. “I have witnessed the Viscountess in the company of another man. They have been meeting in secret, and I felt it was my duty to inform you.” The Viscount’s heart clenches as the weight of his wife’s betrayal settles upon him. The foundation of trust upon which their marriage was built crumbles in an instant, leaving behind a void of hurt and confusion. “Where is she now?” he demands, his voice sharp with a mixture of anger and pain. “Tell me, Margaret. Do not hide anything from me.”

Margaret’s eyes meet the Viscount’s gaze, and in that moment, she recognizes the depths of his anguish. “She is at her lover’s estate, my Lord,” she reveals, her voice laden with remorse. “I have witnessed her depart several times to meet him there.” The Viscount’s jaw tightens as the reality of his wife’s infidelity settles upon him. Anguish and betrayal intertwine within him, threatening to engulf him in a storm of emotions. He paces the room, his mind racing with questions, trying to make sense of the shattered illusion of marital fidelity. “How could I have been so blind?” he mutters, his voice filled with a mix of self-doubt and frustration. “I loved her, and Yet she chose to deceive me.” Margaret watches as the Viscount struggles to come to terms with the truth, her heart aching for the pain he must endure. She can only offer a sympathetic gaze, silently acknowledging the depth of his hurt. With a heavy sigh, the Viscount gathers his composure, steeling himself for the difficult conversations and decisions that lie ahead. He must confront his wife, face the painful truth, and determine the course of action that will safeguard his family’s reputation and future.

“Thank you, Margaret,” he says quietly, his voice tinged with a mix of gratitude and resignation. “You have done your duty by informing me. Please continue to keep a watchful eye, but let this be our secret for now. I need time to contemplate my next steps.” Margaret nods, her expression filled with empathy and understanding. She retreats, leaving the Viscount to grapple with the weight of his wife’s betrayal. As he sinks into a chair, his mind churns with conflicting emotions and the realization that his somewhat blissful marriage has been shattered by the painful truth of infidelity.

———-

As the Viscountess steps through the threshold of her home, the familiar embrace of its walls fails to offer solace or comfort. The maids, ever diligent in their duties, attempt to greet her with their customary deference, only to be met with a dismissive wave of her hand. “Where is she?” the Viscountess demands, her voice dripping with impatience and frustration. Her eyes dart around the room, searching for any sign of her daughter, her impatience growing with each passing moment.

The maids exchange uneasy glances, their trepidation palpable in the air. They are slow to respond, their hesitation borne from fear of their mistress’s sharp temper. With a gulp, one of the maids musters the courage to step forward. “Milady, Lady Y/n is currently in the kitchen,” the maid stammers, her voice trembling slightly. “She is assisting with the preparations for the gala this evening.”

The Viscountess’s eyes narrow, her disappointment mingled with a tinge of annoyance. “Why was I not informed of this?” she snaps, her tone laced with frustration. “Is it too much to ask for a timely update on the whereabouts of my own daughter?” The maid shrinks back, her eyes downcast, feeling the sting of the Viscountess’s reproach. “Forgive us, Milady,” she murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper. “We did not anticipate your return at this exact moment. We are doing our best to attend to our duties.”

A flicker of anger passes over the Viscountess’s face as she considers the maid’s response. She takes a deep breath, attempting to regain her composure, but the frustration simmers beneath the surface. “Ensure that Lady Y/n is summoned immediately,” she declares, her voice now tinged with a hint of command. “I have matters to discuss with her, and I will not be kept waiting any longer.” The maids scurry to fulfill their mistress’s order, their steps quickened by a sense of urgency and the desire to avoid further reprimand. With each step, the Viscountess’s presence looms over the maids, sending ripples of unease through their ranks. Her swift and purposeful stride resonates with a hint of authority, evoking a sense of trepidation among those who cross her path. The mere sight of her sends shivers down their spines, a silent reminder of her formidable presence.

As she passes each maid, a wave of tension fills the air. Their gazes instinctively drop to the floor, their movements cautious and measured, as they strive to avoid any misstep that might draw her attention. The Viscountess, lost in her own thoughts, seems oblivious to the palpable discomfort she instills in those around her.

The maids exchange wary glances as she proceeds, a shared understanding passing between them. Each knows the consequences of arousing the Viscountess’s wrath, and they hasten to complete their tasks with meticulous precision, hoping to avoid any unnecessary encounters. Whispers of her footsteps reverberate through the corridors, amplifying the tension that accompanies her progress. The once-familiar hallways seem to shrink in her presence, their walls closing in as the maids take care to remain unseen, blending into the backdrop of the estate.

Finally, the Viscountess reaches the tea room, the anticipation of her arrival preceding her. The maids who had been preparing the room for her entrance now stand at attention, their expressions a careful mask of servitude. With an imperious air, the Viscountess enters the room, her gaze sweeping across the surroundings with a sharp intensity. The tension in the air is palpable, as if the very atmosphere holds its breath, awaiting her next move.

As she settles into her seat, the maids silently arrange themselves nearby, their eyes averted, not daring to meet her gaze. The room becomes a tableau of subservience, each maid acutely aware of the formidable presence before them. In this atmosphere of trepidation, the Viscountess exudes a power that commands attention, her every action laden with an unspoken expectation. As she awaits the arrival of her daughter, her mind teems with thoughts of control, consequence, and the determination to maintain her influence over the unfolding events.

As you emerge from the bustling kitchen, your mind still intoxicated by the tantalizing flavors, you notice an unusual unease among the maids who approach you. Their anxious expressions raise your concern, prompting you to inquire about the matter. “What’s wrong?” you ask, your voice filled with genuine curiosity. “Why do you all seem so troubled?”

The maids exchange nervous glances, their eyes darting anxiously before one of them gathers the courage to speak. Her voice trembles slightly as she delivers the news.

“Lady Y/n, the Viscountess has summoned you to the tea room,” she whispers, her words tinged with apprehension. “There is a sense of urgency, and we fear that something important awaits you.” Your heart skips a beat at the unexpected summons, and a mixture of anticipation and apprehension fills your being. What could have transpired in your absence? What pressing matters could your mother wish to discuss? Offering the maids a reassuring smile, you express your gratitude for their concern. “Thank you for informing me,” you reply, your voice steady despite the flutter of nerves within you. “I will make my way to the tea room as requested.”

The maids disperse, their worried glances lingering for a moment before they return to their tasks. Taking a deep breath, you mentally prepare yourself for the forthcoming encounter, aware that this summons may hold significant implications for your future.

As you navigate the hallways, each step feels heavier, and your thoughts race with uncertainty. Questions swirl in your mind, demanding answers that remain elusive. What could your mother want to discuss? How might this conversation shape your aspirations and desires? With determination and a touch of apprehension, you enter the tea room, locking eyes with your resolute mother. The atmosphere crackles with unspoken tension, setting the stage for a pivotal conversation that may redefine your relationship and steer the course of your future. The door closes behind you, enveloping you in a confined space with your mother, as if the weight of the world rests upon this encounter. You brace yourself, steeling your nerves, ready to face the challenges and revelations that await you in the tea room. It is here, in this moment, that the trajectory of your life may be forever altered, as you stand on the precipice of transformation and uncertainty.

As you settle into your seat, the delicate porcelain cup cradled in your hands, a maid swiftly approaches, pouring steaming tea into the delicate china. The aroma of the warm brew wafts through the air, momentarily soothing your nerves as you prepare yourself for the conversation ahead. Your mother’s voice cuts through the silence, her tone a mixture of curiosity and reproach. “Where did you go last night?” she asks, her eyes narrowing slightly, searching for any signs of deception. Without missing a beat, you respond, a hint of defiance in your voice, “Nowhere, Mother. I simply stayed within the estate.”

However, your attempt to deflect her inquiry falls flat, and your mother’s gaze hardens, her eyes brimming with suspicion. “Do not take me for a fool, Y/n,” she retorts sharply, her words dripping with disappointment and frustration. “I am well aware of the truth. Do not think you can deceive me so easily.” You swallow hard, the weight of her disapproval pressing upon you. In a brave yet futile attempt, you summon the courage to defend yourself. “Mother, I assure you, I went nowhere of consequence. I simply sought solace in the gardens,” you explain, your voice tinged with frustration and a desire to be understood.

But your words only seem to fuel her ire, and she dismisses your explanation with a wave of her hand. “Solace in the gardens?” she scoffs, her voice laced with disdain. “Do you think I am blind to your antics, Y/n? Your restlessness and desire for independence are no secret to me.” You bristle at her words, the sting of her accusations piercing your heart. You long for the chance to express yourself, to make her understand your aspirations and dreams. Yet, you find your voice muffled by the weight of tradition and societal expectations.

The conversation takes a sudden turn as your mother transitions to another topic, her tone shifting to one of business and practicality. She informs you that two modistes have been arranged to dress you for the upcoming gala at the Claydall estate. Her words are filled with an air of authority, as if the matter has already been decided. Your eyes roll involuntarily, a gesture of silent dissent, as you ponder the extravagance and the waste of resources. You find it difficult to reconcile the frivolousness of such decisions with the realities of the world beyond the opulent walls of the estate.

Internally, you wrestle with a myriad of emotions – frustration, longing, and a growing sense of rebellion. Your desires and aspirations remain obscured, overshadowed by the expectations placed upon you. The Claydall estate, with its grandeur and lavishness, becomes a symbol of the constraints that confine you. Silently, you sip your tea, the bitterness of disappointment mingling with the warmth of the liquid. The conversation with your mother serves as a stark reminder of the delicate balancing act you must perform, navigating the expectations of society while yearning for personal fulfillment.

In this moment, you contemplate the choices that lie before you, seeking a way to carve out your own path amidst the constraints of tradition and duty. The forthcoming gala at the Claydall estate becomes a metaphor for the complex dance you must navigate, as you strive to find your own sense of purpose and identity amidst the opulence and expectations that surround you. “I will find a suitable gentleman to court you,” your mother declares, her tone firm and unyielding. As you watch your mother then take a sip of her tea, the delicate porcelain cup quivering slightly in her grip, a surge of determination courses through your veins. You know that your defiance will likely ignite her anger, but you cannot stand idly by, surrendering your right to choose your own path.

“No, Mother,” you assert, your voice steady and unwavering. “I will not allow you to choose my partner for me. I deserve the freedom to make my own decisions and follow my own heart.” The words hang in the air, a palpable tension radiating between you. Your mother’s eyes narrow, her face contorting with an amalgamation of fury and disbelief.

“How dare you defy me!” she erupts, her voice booming with a mix of anger and frustration. “You are my daughter, and it is my duty to ensure your future is secure. I will not let you jeopardize it with your foolish whims!” The fire within you burns brightly, fueling your courage as you stand your ground. “Mother, I respect your concern for my future,” you reply, your voice steady but tinged with a hint of defiance. “But I believe in my own ability to make the right choices for myself. I deserve a partner who truly understands and values me, and I will not settle for anything less.”

Your mother’s face turns a shade of crimson, her voice trembling with anger as she lashes out, hurling insults and accusations at you. But you refuse to cower beneath the weight of her words. Instead, you summon every ounce of strength within you, defending your right to choose your own path. “I am not a pawn to be moved at your will, Mother.” you retort, your voice cutting through the tension-filled air. “I am an individual with my own dreams, desires, and aspirations. I will not let them be silenced or suppressed.”

The maids, who have been witness to this unprecedented confrontation, look on with wide-eyed astonishment. The air crackles with an electricity they have rarely seen, as you assert your agency in the face of authority.

With your head held high, you rise from your seat, your gaze locking definitely with your mother’s. Her tirade continues, but you have made your choice. You turn away, determined to leave behind the suffocating walls of her control. As you walk out of the room, the resounding slam of the door echoes your determination. The sound reverberates through the halls, a powerful punctuation to your declaration of independence. Your heart pounds with a mix of uncertainty and liberation, knowing that you have taken the first step towards carving out your own destiny.

The echoes of your mother’s anger fade into the background, drowned out by the resolute beat of your own heart. In this moment, you embrace the newfound strength that courses through your veins, ready to face the challenges that lie ahead and to shape your own future on your own terms.

———-

As you step out of the carriage, you are swiftly guided into the grand halls of the Claydall estate. The anticipation in the air is palpable, as the bustling of staff and the murmurs of guests create a vibrant energy. Inside the estate, you are greeted by the two modistes, who are revealed to be twins. They stand side by side, their eyes filled with a keen sense of professionalism and artistic flair. The sight of their identical features creates a sense of intrigue and fascination.

wasting a moment, the modistes spring into action, their nimble fingers deftly working to enhance your natural beauty. They assess your figure, your complexion, and your unique features, determining the perfect ensemble to accentuate your elegance and grace. As they begin their work, maids scurry around you, carefully styling your hair with intricate braids and delicate curls. The gentle touch of their hands and the sound of their whispers create a soothing ambiance amidst the flurry of activity.

The modistes skilled hands glide over your gown, carefully fitting and adjusting each detail with precision. The fabric cascades around you, enhancing your silhouette and capturing the essence of regal refinement. Throughout the process, the modistes and maids exchange whispers and small nods of approval, each contributing to the transformative journey. Their collective efforts converge, harmonizing to create a stunning portrayal of your inner radiance and strength.

As the final touches are added, you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. The reflection that stares back at you is a vision of elegance and confidence, a testament to the artistry and craftsmanship of the modistes and maids who have worked tirelessly to bring your beauty to life. With a newfound sense of poise, you take a moment to absorb the transformation. The soft glow of the chandeliers illuminates the room, casting a mesmerizing aura upon your ethereal appearance. You are now ready to step into the gala, radiating a captivating presence that mirrors the grace and beauty of the Claydall estate itself.

———-

As the carriage glides along the winding road, the duke finds himself lost in the beauty of the setting sun. The vibrant hues of orange and gold paint the sky, casting a warm glow over the world below. Dressed in the finest garments befitting his noble status, the duke exudes an air of regal elegance.

Seated across from him is his childhood friend, Ace, the son of a baron. Clad in his own distinguished attire, adorned with military accouterments, Ace radiates an aura of confidence and charm. The camaraderie between the two is evident, a bond forged through shared experiences and a deep understanding. With a mischievous glint in his eyes, Ace turns his attention to the duke, a playful grin spreading across his face. “So, my dear friend, have you been smitten by a fair lady?” he teases, his voice tinged with amusement.

The duke’s expression remains stoic, yet a hint of a smile plays at the corners of his lips. “You know better than to pry into such matters, Ace,” he retorts, a note of warning lacing his voice. But Ace, undeterred by the duke’s attempt to deflect the conversation, leans closer, his voice filled with mock excitement. “Come on, you can’t keep it a secret forever. We’ve been friends long enough for me to know when you’ve met someone who has captured your attention.” The duke’s gaze softens for a moment as he recalls the encounter with the spirited lady during his ride. “She is an intriguing young woman,” he concedes, his tone betraying a hint of admiration. “But that is all I will say for now.”

Ace grins triumphantly, relishing in the small victory. “Ah, the Duke of Dressrosa, taken aback by a lady’s charms. Who would have thought?” he jests, the playful banter bringing a lightheartedness to their conversation. The duke chuckles, a rare sound that escapes his lips. “Rest assured, Ace, I am not easily swayed,” he asserts, his voice laced with a mixture of pride and conviction. “But I will admit, there is something captivating about her.” Their playful exchange continues as the carriage continues its journey towards the gala, the lighthearted banter offering a reprieve from the weight of their responsibilities. The duke, despite his stoic demeanor, finds solace in the presence of his childhood friend, knowing that amidst the grandeur and expectations of the evening, their bond remains unbreakable.

As the sun dips below the horizon, casting the world into twilight, the duke and Ace find comfort in the camaraderie they share, ready to face the gala and all the possibilities it holds. With a shared smile and a final jest, they brace themselves for the night ahead, where the mysteries of the heart and the allure of the unknown await them both.

©𝐘𝐀𝐘𝐎𝐎𝐍𝐀— Any sign/evidence of plagiarism made from outside this name will be dealt with by whatever means necessary. Legal action may occur if non fanfiction works are plagiarized.

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