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throwaway-yandere · 10 months

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𝗖𝗹𝗮𝘀𝘀𝗶𝗰𝗮𝗹 𝗖𝗼𝗻𝗱𝗶𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴 [Yandere!Dottore/Reader]

a/n: this fic is 100% dedicated to @leftdestiny-posts and they would know just how much they had inspired me in this fic once they finished reading it HAHAHAHAH. P.S.: the classical songs mentioned are actual songs. Yes, the title is half a joke. Here's the spotify playlist if you're curious.

Unreliable Synopsis: You cannot remember your past, but your doctor has been with you every step of the way— and he's more than willing to spend some time with you outside the hospital. Still... did you always have pure white hair?

CW: yandere themes, light body horror, manipulation, its dottore, c'mon LOL.

Concert II "Tristezza Di Fine Anno", performed by the Morespoke Philharmonic with their conductor, Lady Columbina, began nearly an hour ago. And you had the fortune of hearing their songs for yourself.

The well-dressed crowd filled the seats, behaving in what was appropriate for their high station. It was fully booked. The music overwhelmingly masked anyone's breaths, if they had one to start with. Her program can be felt deep in the audience's bones. Rattling them in each sforzando before it lulls down through the sound of her handpicked musicians— with Lady Columbina as the lonesome soloist when the moment calls for it.

"This piece, Symphony No. 5 in C-Sharp Minor, is not Columbina's own making, she had failed to mention that," your company hummed. "This was by another composer who hid behind the name Safed. They were a self-fulling prophecy. Do you wish to know what they said about this piece?"

You said nothing as Zandik— Lord Dottore— stroked your unnaturally "white" hair.

"They said that nobody understood the piece and that they wish they could conduct the first performance five centuries after their death."

Zandik smiled.

"What say you? Do you think those words are true?"

Your company was a tall and thin man with artificially pale-ish skin and wavy blue hair. His eyes were reportedly bloodshot crimson, although you had not received proof of that in this lifetime. But, you were drawn to his deep ocean-like colors, and that was enough to keep you mildly complacent to his strange remarks.

Zandik is surprisingly a considerate man, but he must've brought you with him for a reason. He told you himself that the reason he brought you out of your prison-like hospital room was a mere experiment on his behalf. Paradigm-shifting consequences of his strange social experiments with you are likely to occur, and he cares not for its ethical debates. He won't ask for rhetorics; these to him are tangible outcomes and no questions will be entertained.

All except his.

"I think… "

The composition had a serene, slightly asymmetrical feel to it. You were certain this was Lady Columbina's creative liberties at play. Something about it did not capture its true authenticities. The show purported to narrate three stories: the first concerned a judge who had to find a loved one guilty; the second concerned a prince who drove their beloved into despair; and the final was a tale of a knight who disregarded his obligation to defend a loved one.

But it felt incomplete. As if there was a missing piece— a secret fourth act hiding between the notes and stage.

"A person can't completely mourn for something they would never experience," you told him. "But even so, if I were Safed, I'd feel like my effort would've been a waste."

His eyes remained trained on your hair as you spoke. Zandik seems to dislike it. Unlike his cells mixed with engineered nanomaterials, yours are uniquely… "natural". His hair has a color intensity, whereas yours was the presence of every color— as physics explained it.

"Something they would never experience…" Zandik repeated, tasting the words on his tongue— a smirk etched on his face as though it tasted like bitter irony.

You continued.

"I have a hunch that Safed put everything they worked hard on all their pieces because Lady Columbina wouldn't have performed it otherwise. Since all the songs on the concert's program are marketed as underappreciated compositions, I would… um… infer that they also questioned their works and ultimately themselves if it all had worth in the end. Hopeless for the lack of attention, they probably thought there's more hope if they lived in another generation."

You wanted to say, though you're not sure where this negativity came from, that they probably despised how their well-crafted works were ignored and their sloppy yet significantly more popular compositions angered them.

But you're not Safed. You don't want to put words in their mouth.

".... Hmm, an acceptable hypothesis— a decent one, even," whatever monotonous response Zandik wished to convey, his voice betrayed his grand satisfaction. "Yet I won't give you any confirmation."

"I know."

Zandik laughed.

"The next piece is Norn's Adagio for Strings Op. 11, before the closing Symphony No. 6, better known as Pathétique Symphony, in B Minor Op. 74."

You tilted your head innocently. "Pathetic?"

"Another piece by Safed. It's a Fontaine-translated title. It's originally named pateticheskaya, which meant passionate or emotional, not at all pitiable."

He crossed his arms, insulted as though he was the one who came up with the original title.

"Roughly half a millennium past, the masses attributed Safed's demise to the strains of their final composition, the so-called Pathétique, a mere nine days preceding their exit from this mortal coil. The prevailing narrative spouts a tale of a tragic surrender to the clutches of undiagnosed clinical depression. I find such simplicity in analysis rather pedestrian, wouldn't you agree?"

You took a while to process his inquiry before hesitantly nodding.

"I… I think so."

Zandik smiled.

It's hard to tell if it's genuine, especially when such a protruding mask hides his eyes. Should its existence vanish, you aren't certain you'd see a soul within his pupils either.

"Safed hated this piece, believing it should be cast aside and forgotten. They were living in the woodlands when they wrote it— and when they decided to live with their benefactor, it was suddenly difficult to tear them away from their work."

You nodded to cue that you were still listening.

"They have an incredibly deep connection with their works. One might say they see in tunes rather than color."

You nodded again.

"Your inclination towards a perpetual affirmation of propositions, presumably to veil any potential lacunae in your cognitive purview, does not escape me. It is, if I may be so bold, your agreement that conceals your specter of unfamiliarity, right?"

You rarely understand a word he says when he is in this passionate state. You just nod as if you knew.

"Adorable," Zandik chuckled.

His voice was chillingly low yet… comforting.

"Your sincerity constitutes an enchanting facet of your comportment."

He had to be teasing you.

"Although…" Zandik grabbed a few locks of your hair as though it was slimy and unpleasant— quickly retracting them with a disapproving tilt. "You could stand to utilize more (h/c) hair dyes. How is it conceivable that it has returned to white yet again?"

You opened your mouth but Zandik raised a finger.

"No. I am the scholar here. Do not answer."

You giggled. "Understood, Doctor."

He grinned, inadvertently showing off his pointed canines.

"What a good test subject you are, my dear (Y/n)."

Whether good was a subjective or objective assessment or not was up to interpretation.

The mid-concert intermission began, allowing Lady Columbina's pressured musicians a 20-minute sigh of relief. Zandik ushered you to the back where the Lady Harbinger reposed on a white sofa, her cheek brushing a visibly soft and cloud-like pillow. The bright backstage lighting made her seem ethereal.

She looked like heaven, but Zandik would argue that "(Y/n)" is the true epitome of the word.

"Greetings. As expected, you'd initiate conversation at the earliest convenience." She cooed. "You look younger today, Doctor."

"You know very well that I do not take that as a compliment, Columbina." Zandik scoffed. "How many times will we rehearse this canned script until it is a learned lesson?"

"Perhaps it shall end on the day you refrain yourself from recreating… perspectives."

"Since my encounter with the Dendro Archon, I have not revisited that notion."

Columbina's gentle smile dropped coldly. "You know that your segments are not what I am referring to."

You looked back and forth between the two. Each of them was a distinctively unique person and it's a challenge to take your eyes away from the other.

Hence, when you felt Lady Columbina's eyes on you, you shook and straightened yourself before bowing stiffly.

"G-Greetings, Lady Columbina!!!"

Her gentle smile resurfaced.

"Greetings to you as well, dear Safed."

You blinked.

Dottore clicked his tongue, and Columbina laughed softly.

"Apologies, I meant to say (Y/n)— that is the name you go by in this era of humanity, right?"

You'd rightfully claim that between the three of you, you were the most human. Zandik has his clones, Columbina's origins are of strict secrecy, and you are a mere amnesiac patient. But the way she addressed you was sounding awful like stripping you away with that sense of humane identity.

"Yes? I guess?"

Columbina delightedly buzzed in your reply. "(Y/n)— truly a lovely name. That must mean that you're very healthy! It warms my heart to hear that name again. The other ones had terribly dull names, but if the Doctor had given you this title, then it must mean his research is finally drawing to a close."

Her remarks made little sense. You know little about yourself and trust only the Doctor's judgment. Should you trust her words, then it must mean (Y/n) isn't your real name…

But… that doesn't seem right either.

"Not quite, the name deserves no celebration," Dottore replied happily. "I merely ran out of translations. Bianco, Wit, Bái— what else is there? Ancient Natlan?"

"Scientists truly make for terrible poets— Why not try Inazuman?" Columbina offered.

Those words must have had a heavy weight to them because Zandik pondered for much longer than expected.

"Hmm. I'll keep that in mind," Zandik muttered. "Although it is preferable it does not have to reach that point."

"May I ask why did you bring them here?" Columbina asked.

"It's a bit of an unconventional experiment, but I've been exploring how to elicit positive associations with certain stimuli. Exposing them to music as I accompany them should cause them to associate the emotional response it elicits with being around me." Dottore hummed. "It would be asinine to put them in a chaotic yet controlled environment such as a theme park. While a racing heart may be effective, I shouldn't risk a (Y/n)'s well-being by subjecting them to roller coasters."

"Are you sure you're not the scared one?" You asked cheekily. Zandik rolled his eyes.

She shook her head.

"What a roundabout way of saying you're taking them out on a concert date…"

Columbina looked at you once more.

"Oh, but (Y/n), you appear unwell, my dear…" she pointed at stage left. "Why don't you fix yourself up in the nearest restroom?"

Dottore raised an eyebrow, which made you want to decline Columbina.

"I'm r-really okay, Lady Colum—"

"I insist."

Columbina smiled wider. Her laced mask cast a gloomy shade on her visage.

You had no other choice.

"O… Okay."

The halls that led to the restroom were mostly empty. Perhaps it was due to Lady Columbina's performance that made them patiently await the next song.

But there was one young man you encountered along the way. He had blonde half-way braided hair and purple-ish eyes. You paid him no mind as he circled a small rectangular paper, likely the concert's ticket, between his fingers. However, within a second, that paper vanished.

You stopped in your tracks and looked at him curiously, wondering if your eyes played tricks. He laughed, noting your attention.

"Ah! Sorry," he cheerfully gestured a small wave. "Didn't mean to practice in public."

The blonde man approached you with a smile.

"You're #9805, right?"

Immediately, you both got on the wrong foot.

Your nose scrunched, "I prefer (Y/n)."

The man flinched. "Oh, yikes! I'm not making the best first impression— nice to meet you (Y/n)! I have something for you."

You thought he was handing you his concert ticket for a moment but when you took a good look, it was a grayscale brochure.

And a white tulip…

"Um…"

"Needless to say, I'm something of a—"

"Trickster?"

"Magician, but an astute guess nonetheless!" He laughed sheepishly. "I was waiting for you, I thought you wouldn't go to the restroom."

So, did Lady Columbina plan this?

You caressed the binding and skimmed through the pages. "What's this for?"

"Father said you might be interested in its contents," the young man said. "That's all."

You blinked.

"... Are you saying you missed out most of the concert just to hand me this?"

He laughed awkwardly again. "My dear sister says I have a habit of missing a hint of romanticism when it counts, so I guess today's just one of those moments."

"Did you not like the music?" You scoffed, temper rising.

"Did you hate the composition? Did you not understand the e-emotion behind the chords? Don't you understand just how d-disrespectful that was?!"

"Woah, woah, I didn't say any of that." His eyes widened.

He didn't expect your voice to crack.

"I'm so sorry if you're offended— are you one of the original composers?"

…

You took a deep breath.

… Why were you mad?

… Why did it feel like those songs mean more to you than meets the eye?

"Sorry, I just…" You shook your head. "I guess I'm not feeling well. Oh, no, I'm so SO sorry…"

An unknown part of you thrived to hear him praise the music. That same part pitied the composer who worked day and night to perfect their piece. It's an ugly voice, but it was sincere.

… What was wrong with you? Why did you suddenly lash out? What was going on?

"Oh, well there's no need to be sorry then." The blonde man took his hat off and bowed.

"Farewell, Mx. (Y/n)!" He grinned. "The greatest magician in all Teyvat will take his leave. Thank you for your time!"

With the sway of his dark cape, he disappeared.

You entered the restroom to wash your face. It didn't do much to soothe your nerves. The lingering dread for your strange emotional mood swing remained.

To distract yourself, you read through the article.

The Enigmatic Legacy of Composer Safed

In the annals of musical history, few figures emerge as enigmatic and hauntingly captivating as the orchestral composer, Safed. Born five centuries ago amidst the ancient woodlands of Sumeru, this ethereal musician seemingly materialized from Vanarama with no familial relations.

Huh… So it's about the one who wrote the previous compositions earlier.

No wonder that blonde man asked if you were one of the composers. He was being a smartass.

A Fiery Finale: The Pathétique Symphony

Legend has it that in their final act of emotional expression, Safed penned the "Pathétique Symphony," a composition so emotionally charged that, overwhelmed with disdain for their creation, they purportedly set ablaze their woodland home. Seeking solace and escape, Safed accepted the benevolent offer of a city-dwelling benefactor.

…

Safed… burned down their house?

No…

No, that's not how you remembered that.

No.

No. No. No. No. No.

That's not what happened. "Safed" didn't burn their house down.

Suddenly, you stilled. Your thoughts ran wild, but your inner rationale tried to force them to a halt. This peak in anxiety did not make sense.

… Why would an amnesiac like you know what happened?

A Swansong: Il Dottore's Beneficence

Their benefactor, now celebrated as our Lord Harbinger, Il Dottore, welcomed Safed into the city's heart. It was here that the truth unfolded: Safed had been grappling with hearing loss for years, an affliction that fueled their artistic brilliance yet cloaked them in a muffled world. They were unaware of their disability, yet thrived in their field.

…

Wait…

Before you began to read the final paragraph in Safed's brochure, you hurriedly went back to Dottore and the composer's vintage photographed portraits.

After seeing their face, you dropped the brochure in the restroom's sink.

You saw their face.

You saw YOUR face and Zandik's.

But not quite. That was you, but at the same time, it wasn't. Zandik looked stiff in those photos with "you", likely a product of the time since Kamera photography was used only in rare formalities that required a bit of dress up. But the "you" you saw was sickly way beyond the formal costumes. They had (e/c) eyes and (h/c) hair, but yours were all white.

White…

Safed… That's the Sumeru translation for white, isn't it?

Bianco, Wit, Bái— they're all translations for "white", aren't they? And if Dottore and Columbina's earlier conversations were to go by, the one after you would be named Shiro.

…

The one… after you?

"Tut tut."

You trembled at the familiar sound.

You slowly turned your head around and there he was, leaning against the restroom door.

"You were in the restroom for too long. It appears my suspicions were not unfounded."

Without waiting for a response, he approached with large strides. His gloved hands seized your stressed shoulders. The grip tightened harshly as he forced you to meet his intense gaze. Blood trailed from the corner of your mouth, and your anxiety heightened. He angrily bared his sharp teeth as he watched it stain his gloves.

And yet Zandik looks…

Sad.

And distressed.

He pressed his earpiece.

"Test Subject #9805 exhibits troubling symptoms. Hematemesis suggests a severe physiological response. Persistent manifestations of albinism in ocular and follicular pigmentation indicate underlying deformities. Immediate isolation is warranted for the researcher and subject's well-being."

His hand was cold. Skin imbued with silver nanomaterials after several operations, reminiscent of the age-old philosophical question: "Is it still the same ship if you gradually replace all of its parts?"

Then Zandik did something unexpected.

He dropped his hold and you prepared yourself by shutting your eyes as he swung his arm.

To hug you.

"I'm sorry, I have failed you again, (Y/n)," Zandik muttered. "I should not have raised my expectations."

"W… What? Why are you putting me in isolation?" You asked, rattled. "What have I done?! I just— I didn't do anything wrong! What did I—"

He shifted, dragging your arm to hug him back as though you were a little girl's doll. Zandik rested his head on your shoulder, shaking slightly.

"In your innocence, no fault lies. I thought I had accomplished what I had set out to do, and met unfulfilled expectations" Zandik gritted his teeth, voice somber. "Despite centuries of refinement, it appears that I still have room for improvement in perfecting the process… I was right. This deserves no celebration."

The doctor laughed sadly.

"When will I ever be proven wrong?" He asked himself as he wiped the blood off the corner of your lips.

He pulled away, pecking your forehead.

"I'm sorry."

Those were not the words you expected from his mouth, and yet you heard it more than once. I'm sorry. It does not fit his character, nor does the tender yet cold hug he had given prior.

You're scared. You're terrified. You know what was bound to come. You know what awaits you. White walls. Silence. Separation.

Solitary.

Far from a choice. Far from negotiable.

There's no amnesty.

And yet, the words flowed from you naturally.

"... I forgive you."

You have no idea why you said what you said. There's no certainty that you believed your own words. Zandik's lip twitched downward.

"You should not," Zandik croaked. "Why? Why must you always forgive and accept my selfishness? Do you derive satisfaction in seeing me in this state?!"

You opened your mouth to answer but were stopped abruptly as he grabbed your hair.

Zandik had always favored you compared to other patients. You know this very well. He's an evil man and the list of actions he had done that had harmed you in the name of science is at least two pages long upon your awakening. Yet, you were sure he liked you enough for he told you of his new exciting experiments. He scolded you when you left his research institute for fresh air. And he would hold your hand whenever you dreaded those thick injections.

You just didn't know he had it in him to fold from his intimidating facade just to kiss you like a desperate man.

Breathless under his control, he softly pressed his lips against yours. His lips were chapped and cold, and he took you in gently as though he'd break you. Zandik, as strange as it was, still seemed to prioritize your comfort over his needs. Normally, this tension would've made him so short-tempered. But this will be your last interaction. The doctor tasted your blood in his mouth, and he was nauseous at the thought of hurting you more. But he stopped. Even though he wishes to force all his pent-up desires onto you. Even though he wanted to love you thoroughly that you'd forget your name again.

Zandik whimpered quietly as he pulled away— sounding like a dog that would not sleep that night. What was left in between was a thin disappearing line of saliva and blood that quickly broke off.

The doctor should be happy he finally got to have a proper date with you after 9805 failed attempts.

But he's not content.

He was about to lean in for the second time but stopped himself. Selfish. To think he nearly saw you two finally walking down the aisle. Why was he always so selfish when it came to you? But those rhetorics mattered not in your head.

You were silenced. You were held.

You were loved.

"No." Zandik breathed in, laughing humorlessly. "No— I am the scholar here. Don't answer."

And you will be disposed of.

"Take them away." He spoke to his men calmly. They had entered long enough to witness what he had done. The men did not hesitate to grab you, thinking Dottore thought you no more than a mere toy.

But calm was deceptive. It does not convey the distress that chokes him.

Maybe…

Maybe in the 9806's trial… he'll have you as he always wanted.

The Fatuus that escorted you in was gentle. A silent guide. The expression on her face was clear that she wanted to extend her apologies as well but mustn't.

You already have a white tulip in hand.

Arlecchino already sended her regards in advance.

When she opened the door by tapping a card against the lock, she bowed her head. You let yourself enter without a fight. The room was pure white with the rest of the furniture matching the drapes. But Dottore didn't just provide the necessities. There were books, sketch pads, and other recreational materials.

As you were about to approach the center, something was off on both sides.

You looked to your left.

Two clear mirrors divided your room from the others. There's a sign on the left wall. Code #4135.

You stood, shocked, grieving at the sight of your predecessor. They were a mirror of you but with a different name— and an even worse state.

One had made a slight sound coming off their skin— rotting slightly. There's a tube connected to their mouth and you could see yourself— you could see them dripping. They had your face. Their hair and eyes were white. The nose was gone, leaving a gaping hole. Their neck was cricked back at an unnatural angle. You don't know if they're still breathing. They're still bleeding. They must've bitten off their tongue.

There's a lone white blanket that covers the rest of them.

You think they might be dead.

You think "you" might've died more than once.

THUD!

You jolted at the sound coming from the wall behind you. Upon seeing their body, you froze.

Code #032.

They were but a head. You wish you could only focus on that aspect, but you looked lower and your hair raised. They cannot feel the same, for they were almost only a spine left. The rest of them were their skeletal frame, guided by thin lines one can barely call flesh.

Their head banged against the mirror. The thought that the sound was what made you flinch earlier made you unwell.

They seem to be telling you something. Their breath fogged up the glass and their thinned white hair splayed across your view. Their mouth said something urgently you couldn't comprehend because their tongue was paper-like in size.

#032 was shaking. Their pain grew vivid in every movement that the room was starting to spin. You sensed their turmoil.

They looked like death.

You all looked like death itself, both the pretty and ugly ends of it.

"Don't." You whispered, begging as you knelt to their level. "You don't have to speak."

You laughed deprecatingly.

"We're not the scholar here. He is."

In every syllable, you saw the outline of their esophagus strain. The nerves were blueish purple. The little skin they have left on their cheeks is sunken. Their lips were gnawed, likely as a response to the pain they'd gone through previously. Fists of bone tapped against the glass, and you quivered, imagining their pain.

You were not afraid of them. You only mourned their anguish. In fact, you feel at ease to be in the presence of yourself from the past.

It reminded you of what "Safed" had allegedly spoken years ago.

Nobody understood the pieces you made and you wished you could conduct the first performance five centuries after your first death.

And now, here you are.

Seeing two "people" who do understand you.

And they share your face.

"Pathetically", the only one that can understand you is yourself.

You're all flies trapped in a web that the predator refuses to wrap and consume out of pity. Compared to the others, you looked fine.

But your lungs were blistering.

Despite their deathly ill and mutilated bodies, you were the one bound to die soon enough.

His experiments worked.

You love him.

You love Zandik.

And how tragic it was that the person who learned how to love him was doomed to perish.

In your last minutes, you recalled something vital:

As an outsider, your body was not meant for this world, but after encountering the woodland creatures and Zandik, it became tremendously difficult to part ways with it.

You coughed up yet again with a gentle smile on your face. Maybe you're not dying…

Maybe you're just returning home, for every atom in your multiple bodies was once part of the galaxy.

You are (Y/n) (L/n).

And you were not from Teyvat.

Much like the rest of the descenders, you have a quirk about you that sets you apart from the norm. For the travelers the world reveres today, it was their distinct determination and questionable age that was remarkable. Yours slightly titters to an inhuman level.

You can "clone" yourself.

Zandik and the "original" you wouldn't phrase it in that manner, but it's the easiest way to describe your talents.

"So, it is cloning." Zandik paused. "Mind letting me in on the science behind the process?"

He was an ordinary student when you both met. Far from a doctor, but at least he was a registered scholar in the Akademiya. Zandik didn't have an eloquent tongue as he does in the present, yet his curiosity burned all the same.

Which is why, back then, you thought his questions were cute.

Not dangerous.

"It's not that I can make copies of myself without consequences," you humored with a grin. "I'm just making… fragments of myself. Segments, if you prefer to call it that. It's a common ability for the people back in my world. None of us do it excessively— especially since we're kind of an invasive species."

Zandik raised an eyebrow, "is that a commendable trait?"

"My kind says so. Whether good is a subjective or objective assessment or not is up to interpretation." You answered noncommittedly. "I don't think that's right. Our soul splits apart until we're just… empty. We lose some memories in the process."

"But functioning?"

"In a sense, yeah, but we lose a part of ourselves like memories and well, hair color, I guess." You nodded. "Why are you so curious?"

"Since you have rejected my confession, I want to try my hand at seducing a copy of yours instead," Zandik said. You couldn't tell whether he was joking with his naturally piercing red eyes. "Until then, you are not allowed to asexually reproduce without my authorization. Understood?"

You laughed. Unaware of his arsonist crimes, you willingly indulged his words.

"I owe you my ears, so it's only right that I'll listen to your commands, Zandik."

"Good." Zandik grinned, shark-like.

"What a good test subject you are, (Y/n)."

Centuries later, that closing sentence will continue to remain true.

Since then, his life has changed. Multiplied, even. Upon studying your genetic makeup, he found ways to duplicate himself as well. Despite his feats in science, Zandik remained unhappy.

Deep down, all the Harbingers pity the Doctor who cannot save his most loved one. That includes both Columbina and Arlecchino.

No one protests even when harmful orders are given; everything appears fine until the symptoms are felt. Because the organism— the astral descender— has no nerves or voice, he continues to assume that the patient is not in pain.

The patient needs peace but because they are not to speak, they remain silent, and the need persists.

The patient wants to eat and breathe fresh air, but because such desires might hurt the feelings of the doctor who thinks he has done everything needed, the patient remains quiet, contemplating desires out of fear of reprimand.

The original (Y/n) (L/n) suffers in silence. In a white room only accessible by a man who continues to nurse his unrequited love: Zandik.

No one else can enter this room.

He won't allow it. Only he can be obsessed with you.

The thought of you haunts him like a smiling reflection upon window panes— like a gift of a Trojan horse with nothing but your echoing laughter and hospital monitor beeps inside. Your thin limbs were marching clock hands with rusted gears that miraculously function till the end of time.

What is immortality for if every day was a death loop?

It is such a lonely concept…

You ought to be thankful that he's willing to be your eternal company.

"I endeavored to elicit a reciprocation of my sentiments from the latest subject. Regrettably, their discovery of my antecedent experiments transpired prematurely. Nevertheless, as asserted several times, it remains but a temporal inevitability until an iteration of yourself succumbs to having an interest towards me." Dottore hummed.

He held your feet.

He held Test Subject #01's feet.

If you spoke up, he would've bragged about how he was right. How people do love your songs. But no one knows if you can't or won't answer him. This one-sided conversation is the punishment for his hubris.

He took out a sharp knife and cut off one of your toes. You no longer feel any pain as you bleed into his hands. What a kind man the doctor is, for he blocked all your pain receptors years ago. It's a good thing you regenerate quickly.

That's what he loved and hated about you.

You only gave and gave.

But you never ran out of soul. You never ran your heart fully dry— and that left you ill. Zandik could never let you go.

You're already a part of him.

Hence, he must not make clones of exaggerated memories. He wanted your perfect yet healthy replica.

Praise be the white corpuscles extracted from your veins which had brought him new life. You were the reason for his research. You were the breath that gave his segments life. You were his muse, much like he was yours.

"Fear not, (Y/n)," he reassured with a measured tone. "Upon my mastery of the arts, I intend to reinstate your autonomy and awareness. Perhaps then, you shall find the organic inclination to reciprocate affection toward me by the 9806's trial. Until then…"

In other words, give him more time and he'll reinvent love.

He leaned his forehead against yours.

"I'm so, so sorry."

And ultimately, he'll reinvent YOU.

"Can I have another piece of your scalp?"

"No."

"Do you not understand the weight of this research or must I expound on it further in another three-hour presentation?"

"Alternatively, you could start by saying that you're sorry," you raised an eyebrow. "I'm still not over the fact you randomly cut a piece of my ear when I was asleep, doctor. You know, I heard from the aranaras that white tulips are given to someone when they ask for forgiveness."

Zandik smirked.

"Regrettably, it seems that such an occurrence is unlikely to transpire. Do not expect such words and gifts from me."

You smiled.

"We'll see, we'll see."

Taglist (pls notify if you wish to be on the taglist for the last two): @average-yandere-enjoyer @pix-stuff @sagekun @vennnnn-diagram @dilucragnidvr @tnsophiaonly @lsleepysimpl

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munsonomenon · 2 months

Text

⛧☾༺’Casual’༻☽⛧

The Masterlist

༺ His first tour, a record deal, and a ‘casual’ love affair with the girl he never should’ve let go. Eddie had everything he ever wanted. At least he thought, until you’re in the crowd of his show and he spots the wandering hands of the one person everyone knew was hopelessly in love with you, except for yourself- Steve Harrington.

༺ pairing: rockstar! eddie x alt! fem reader, steve harrington x alt! fem reader

༺ contains: love triangle, angst, jealousy, slow burn, ‘she fell first, he fell harder’ trope, fluff, comfort, implied friends to lovers, smut, smoking, drinking, idiots in love, asshole! eddie

ೃ༄ Chapter I: The Prologue | moodboard

ೃ༄ Chapter II: Call it what you want | moodboard

ೃ༄ Chapter III: Bite the hand that feeds | moodboard

ೃ༄ Chapter IV: All this time | moodboard

ೃ༄ Chapter V: Like nothing matters | coming soon!

‘causal’ the playlist

spotify

ೃ༄ track list:

casual / chappell roan

brooklyn baby / lana del ray

call it what you want / taylor swift

daylight / harry styles

eye of the night / conan gray

wild side / suki waterhouse

bite the hand / boygenius

for whom the bell rolls / metallica

summer 2019 / caroline culver

songs i can’t listen to / neon trees

making the bed / olivia rodrigo

all this time / louis tomlinson

ode to a conversation / del water gap

boyfriend / against me!

grand theft autumn / fall out boy

nothing matters / the last dinner party

we’ll never have sex / leith ross

still loving you / scorpions

nothing else matters / metallica

follow you / bring me the horizon

dress / taylor swift

perfect / one direction

smile like you mean it / the killers

when love and death embrace / him

supercut / lorde

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roxasagainst · 2 months

Text

jujutsu kaisen one-shot masterlist!

WE AINT GOIN NOWHERE!! (update 8 • 26, adding my fav excerpts under the links :3)

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ✦ ‧₊˚ ⋅「 ✦ Satoru Gojo ✦ 」.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ✦ ‧₊˚ ⋅

⊹₊⋆ sour, then sweet (college AU) wc - 1.5k

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ — “What if I told you I bought everything at your bake sale, left a check on the living room table…and we have all the time in the world right now…would your answer still be the same?”

⊹₊⋆ sick for me (ex!boyfriend AU) wc - 4.6k

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─ “Yeah, princess? You like that? Like when I pick up the pace and Make. You. Take. It.”

⊹₊⋆ losing all sense (arranged marriage AU) wc - 7.3k

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─ And just like the cake cutting, when he comes up from between your legs he wipes the corners of his mouth with his fingers and puts them in his mouth.

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─ I. “Say something”, he pleads, his voice soft with an edge of desperation, “Please.”

⊹₊⋆ limitless [draft one], [draft two] (roommates AU) wc (all) - 9.5k

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─ II. “If you don't want this”, he mutters into your skin, “just say so, baby…”

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ✦ ‧₊˚ ⋅「 ✦ Suguru Geto ✦ 」.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ✦ ‧₊˚ ⋅

⊹₊⋆ confession (priest AU) wc - 2k

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─ Through his robe and the stupid dress your friend picked out, the Lord wasn't the only thing that was rising, and your heartbeat picked up all over again.

⊹₊⋆ you snooze, you lose (bartender AU) wc - 3.5k

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─ “Mhmm…that’s it, sweetheart, make a mess on my fingers like that…you’re doing so good.”

⊹₊⋆ tear you apart (teacher AU) wc - 4.1k

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─ “Well, you're wrong. I could hear you perfectly fine. Moaning my name like that…what were you even thinking about?”

⊹₊⋆ happy birthday, mrs. president (husband/wife AU) wc - 2.1k

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─ “G-Gonna make you a mommy, sweetheart…”

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ✦ ‧₊˚ ⋅「 ✦ Choso Kamo ✦ 」.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ✦ ‧₊˚ ⋅

⊹₊⋆ intrusive thoughts (toxic bf AU) wc - 2.8k

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─ “More, baby? C’mon, we talked about this, use your words.”

⊹₊⋆ perfect (rockstar AU) wc - 2.3k

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─ “‘M glad, babe. But next time, let's not forget to eat dinner before fucking.”

⊹₊⋆ full moons and mouths (vampire hunter AU) wc - 5.5k

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─ His hands grip your hips harder, his movements rough and demanding. Wanting more. Needing more.

⊹₊⋆ ??? (babysitter AU) wc - ???

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ✦ ‧₊˚ ⋅「 ✦ Ryomen Sukuna ✦ 」.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ✦ ‧₊˚.

⊹₊⋆ cherry waves I, II , III and IV (heian era AU) wc (all) - 9.9k

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─ I. “You like that? Yeah you do, fuckin’ slut, takin’ me so well…f-fuck…’n so tight too…”

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─ II. “And I'd be in a much better mood if you gave me a kiss, my love.”

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─ III. “Letting me fuck this pretty face of yours…shit…I love you…”

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─ IV. “Kuna…we've ruined four perfectly good kids by spoiling them all the time.”

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ✦ ‧₊˚ ⋅「 ✦ Toji Fushiguro ✦ 」.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ✦ ‧₊˚ ⋅

⊹₊⋆ sweet nothin' (neighbor AU) wc - 3.7k

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─“Name sounds good comin’ out of that pretty mouth – mhmm – wanna hear it again…”

⊹₊⋆ serpent's kiss (obsessive AU) wc - 2.5k

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─ You're the prettiest when he's in control also and especially when you moan and scream his name like it's the only thing in your vocabulary.

⊹₊⋆ don't tell mom! (stepdad AU) wc - 3.1k

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─ ...‘M givin’ you one more chance to call me ‘daddy’ and behave, or I'm gonna take care of it my way.”

⊹₊⋆ killshot (bodyguard AU) wc - ???

⊹₊⋆ companion playlist here!

⊹₊⋆ enable my shitty writing by sending a ko-fi!

⊹₊⋆ uploads might be a little slower considering I'm writing a book!

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dragonfly0808 · 1 month

Note

Please please please make the winx rewrite playlist on Spotify

Mkay so… I got way too invested and wound up making a 5 1/2 hours long way-too-detailed playlist

This is the link:

Veiled Wings and Shattered Panoramas Official Playlist

And if you want to know why I chose each song, down here is the way-too-detailed-explanation of the playlist!

First off; I chose 2 songs to represent each season

Season 1- Wings by PIXY and Faerie Soiree by Melanie Martinez

Season 2- What’s up Danger by Blackway and Black Caviar and Different World by Alan Walker and Sofia Carson

Season 3- This is War by 30 seconds to mars and Nightmares Never End by JT Music and Andrea Storm Kaden

Season 4- Tiller’s Prayer by Sabrina Jordan and Ribs by Lorde

Subsection here for the main song of each arc for s4

Arc 1- Generation Why

Arc 2- The Old Therebefore (the singing to snakes version cause it’s more dramatic)

Arc 3- What Was I Made For? By Billie Eilish

Arc 4- Spinnin by Madison Beer

Season 5 will be… Nightmares Come to Life from HSMTMTS and Long Live by Taylor Swift

Next I chose 2 songs for each member of the Winx

Bloom- Rising by Julia Lester and The Albatross by Taylor Swift

Stella- Sober II (Melodrama) by Lorde and skinny dipping by Sabrina Carpenter

Flora- Envy the Leaves by Madison Beer and Mouth of the Eden by Sabrina Jordan

Musa- Whispers by Halsey and the grudge by Olivia Rodrigo

Tecna- Invisible Chains by Lauren Jauregui and idontwannabeyouanymore by Billie Eilish

Aisha- The Tradition by Halsey and Comfort Crowd by Conan Gray

Subsection for my 3 main songs I associate with the girls:

A World Alone by Lorde

WOKE UP by XG

For Good from Wicked

Continuing with the boys

Sky- Lie by Jimin and In My Blood by Shawn Mendes

Brandon- Something Big by Shawn Mendes and Thumbs by Sabrina Carpenter

Helia- Cough Syrup (the Glee version) and Speak Out (Acoustic) from HSMTMTS

Riven- Boy in the Bubble by Alec Benjamin and BLUE by Billie Eilish (cmon ‘I thought we were the same birds of a feather now i’m ashamed’ is so Driven coded it’s not even funny. And the whole final part from ‘you were born bluer than a butterfly’ is just so perfect for him.)

Timmy- The Other Side and Summer Child by Conan Gray

Nabu- Wool by Flatland Cavalry and Die Alone by FINNEAS

Subsection for my 3 main songs I associate with the boys:

Youth by Shawn Mendes and Khalid

ON by BTS

The Story by Conan Gray

Next, songs for the couples!

Skloom: lovely by Billie Eilish and Khalid, Surrender by Natalie Taylor (and in the future) Maybe this Time by Joshua Basset and Sofia Wylie

Stella and Brandon: There’s no Way by Lauv and Julia Michaels and R.E.M by Ariana Grande

Flora and Helia: Canada by Lauv and Alessia Cara and Venus Sunrise by Lia Marie Johnson

Rivusa: Ain’t No Doubt About It from ZOMBIES 3 (partially as a joke but also cause that song is absolutely so them) Alley Rose by Conan Gray and ESPECIALLY Vermillion by Sabrina Jordan

Tecna and Timmy: Someone You Like by the girl and the dreamcatcher and Tell Em by Sabrina Carpenter

Aisha and Nabu: Tornado Warnings by Sabrina Carpenter and safety net by Ariana Grande and Ty Dolla $ign

Next, songs for different characters and a few couples!

Icy- 28 Reasons by SEULGI

Stormy- The Lighthouse by Halsey

Darcy- Partners in Crime by FINNEAS

Darcy and Riven- Getaway Car by Taylor Swift and Astronomy by Conan Gray

The Trix- Lightning by Little Mix

Daphne- Can’t Catch Me Now

Valtor- Burn the Witch by Shawn James and Castles Crumbling by Taylor Swift and Hayley Williams

Daphne and Valtor- Dynasty by MIIA

Now Roxy’s squad!

Roxy- Control by Halsey and How Villains are Made by Madalen Duke

Shirley- Matilda by Harry Styles

Naten- Kid in Love by Shawn Mendes

Alexa- Follow the White Rabbit by Madison Beer

Chimera- Wandering (Don’t Go) by Hues and Lia Marie Johnson

Chimera and Naten- The Alchemy by Taylor Swift

Roxy and Shirley- On My Way by Sabrina Carpenter and Alan Walker

The Sibling Squad- Grow by Conan Gray and Warriors by Imagine Dragons

Then I put a bunch of songs that just remind me of the Winx or help me get into a writing mood, I’ll just put the title here cause I’m getting tired

Rise

odd eye

run for roses

untouchable

ringo

s-class

thunderous

lion

secret story of the swan

panorama

centuries

voltage

flesh & bone

legends never die

lifts

Finally, I put a song for Selina and what will be the main song for season 6

For Selina: Fall Little Wendy Bird Fall by Lydia the Bard <- this is exactly the vibe future Selina will have for reals

And finally, the main song for s6:

Til Forever Falls Apart by Ashe and FINNEAS

Wow… I def put way too much thought into this.

Anyways, hope u enjoy!

#winx club #winx rewrite #winx #winx headcannon #winx fanfic #winx headcanons #veiled wings and shattered panoramas

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ginafumbless · 16 days

Text

Arson's matches - k.th

Some matches ignite more than just flames

── ⋅ ⋅ ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ✩

Genre: Dystopian au , Childhood friends to lovers, Forbidden love, Angst

Prologue: Love is supposed to fade, but not with him it never did. It clung to you like the smoke from a long dead fire lingering in every quiet moment, every breath you took. Even after all these years the warmth of him still burned beneath the surface of your heart refusing to extinguish. Your love was like the matches that were meant to burn everything in their path.

Note: hillo hillo you guyssss. This is probably my favorite fic that I've written. And lemme know your thoughts after Reading!!! Have a great timeee :)))

Playlist

↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺

"The Night We Met" – Lord Huron

"I Found" – Amber Run

"Breathe Me" – Sia

"Cherry Wine (Live)" – Hozier

"All I Want" – Kodaline

"Skinny Love" – Bon Iver

"Unsteady (Erich Lee Gravity Remix)" – X Ambassadors

"Silhouette" – Aquilo

"Poison & Wine" – The Civil Wars

"To Build A Home" – The Cinematic Orchestra

"Wait" – M83

"Youth" – Daughter

"As The World Caves In" – Matt Maltese

"Almost Lover" – A Fine Frenzy

"I Will Follow You Into the Dark" – Death Cab for Cutie

── ⋅ ⋅ ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ✩

Sylvarian kingdom despite the scars of war, retained a haunting beauty that lingered beneath the surface of its landscapes. The northern territories once adorned with snow capped peaks and crystalline lakes still held remnants of their former majesty. The icy expanses now untouched by human presence gleamed like diamonds in the sunlight reflecting a serene yet melancholic beauty.

In the southern realms where the warmth of cultural heritage once flourished ancient architecture and vibrant landscapes told tales of rich history. Citadel walls weathered by time and conflict stood as silent, reflecting the beauty of the southern cities. The scent of exotic spices once carried by the breeze in bustling marketplaces lingered as a nostalgic reminder of the vibrant trade that had defined these lands.

The night sky above adorned with constellations that had witnessed both joy and sorrow retained its beauty. The stars undiminished by the ravages of war sparkled like diamonds against the dark offering a glimmer of hope to those who dared to look up. It reminded its inhabitants that even in the darkest moments beauty could endure.

The war in Sylvaria was a relentless and devastating conflict leaving scars on both the land and its people. The once thriving lands became battlegrounds with the echoes of gunfire and the result of destruction haunting every corner. Families were torn apart, homes reduced to rubble and the air thick with the scent of despair. The reason for war was longstanding political tensions and territorial disputes between two major factions Monfort of the Northern Territories and the Dominion of the Southern Realms. These factions had a history of simmering animosities fueled by resource conflicts, ideological differences and past grievances.

The Monfort located in the colder northern regions of Sylvaria was characterized by its industrial prowess and a desire for territorial expansion to secure resources. It was Led by a coalition of ambitious leaders and it was believed to hold key advantages in trade and military strength.

On the other hand the Dominion, situated in the warmer southern realms prided itself on cultural heritage and traditions. The Dominion resisted encroachment by the Monfort viewing their expansionist goals as a threat to the identity of their territories. The clash of values and the desire to maintain sovereignty became rallying points for the Dominion's leaders.

The war erupted when diplomatic efforts to resolve these deep rooted issues failed. Both sides mobilized their forces, leading to a devastating conflict that swept across Sylvaria.

The Sylvarian kingdom was once whole and unbroken it was a playground for two children who saw no divide between the north and the south. Back then, Monfort and the Dominion were merely names spoken by adults, distant titles that had little to do with their small world.

You and Taehyung had grown up together in the borderlands of Sylvaria, where fields of wildflowers stretched out under the warm sun and the soft winds carried the scent of a peaceful melodies. The border between Monfort and the Dominion had been little more than a line on a map. But to you both, it was nothing but a line to cross for the sake of play and adventure.

"Catch me if you can!" Taehyung's voice had echoed across the flower-filled meadow, his laughter ringing out as he sprinted ahead of you his dark hair wild in the wind.

You grinned determined to catch up, "You’re not that fast Taehyung!" you yelled, your feet kicking up dirt and petals as you chased after him.

He stopped at the edge of the field just before the treeline turning to face you with a wide teasing grin. "Maybe you’re just slow!"

You finally caught up to him, out of breath but laughing. " I’m slow only because you’re always running away!"

Taehyung’s smile softened, and for a moment the world was paused in that perfect golden afternoon. "I’ll never run away from you" he promised, his voice quieter more sincere than his usual playful tone.

And he had meant it back then. When war and borders were still just distant ideas, when the only thing that mattered was the freedom to be together, to explore, to dream of the future. The two of you spent your days chasing those dreams whether it was hunting for secret hiding places in the woods or imagining what life would be like as adults.

"Do you think Sylvaria will always be like this?" you had asked him one day, as the two of you lay on your backs in the tall grass, staring up at the endless blue sky.

Taehyung had turned his head to look at you his dark eyes thoughtful. "I hope so. Maybe one day, we’ll live in a city where Monfort and the Dominion don’t matter It’ll just be us."

"Just us" you had repeated smiling at the thought. "That sounds perfect."

But as you both grew older, the world began to change. The war crept closer inch by inch, and with it the innocence of your childhood began to slip away. Borders were no longer invisible lines but heavily guarded walls. The fields that had once been your playgrounds became battlefield and the laughter that had once filled the air was replaced by the sound of marching soldiers and whispered fears of what was to come.

Taehyung’s visits became less frequent, though he never stopped coming. Even as the tensions between Monfort and the Dominion escalated, even as it became dangerous for him to cross into your territory, he would find a way.

One night, long after curfew you heard the familiar tap on your window. You rushed to open it, finding Taehyung crouched on the windowsill his dark cloak blending into the night. His face was covered but you could see the weariness in his eyes.

"You’re crazy for coming here" you whispered though you couldn’t hide the relief in your voice.

He smiled though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. "I’d be crazier if I stayed away."

You stepped aside to let him in, your heart racing. It had been weeks since you had last seen him and each time he visited, you feared it would be the last.

"How are things on your side?" you asked as you handed him a glass of water sitting beside him on your bed.

Taehyung’s expression darkened. "Worse. The Monfort leaders are pushing for full control over the borderlands. They’ve started recruiting… boys our age. They want soldiers."

Your stomach twisted at the thought. "But you’re not a soldier" you said your voice tight. "You don’t want this war."

He looked down at his hands the weight of the world settling on his shoulders. "It doesn’t matter what I want anymore."

You reached out taking his hand in yours. "You don’t have to do what they say. You can stay here with me. We can leave Sylvaria go somewhere they can’t find us."

Taehyung shook his head a sad smile pulling at the corners of his lips. "I wish it were that simple. But they’re not giving us a choice. My family… they need me. And if I don’t fight they’ll be marked as traitors. I won’t let that happen."

The realization hit you like a punch to the chest. "They’re forcing you into this."you say

"I thought I could stay out of it, that I could protect my family without getting involved. But the more I resist the harder they push. I’ve started training Y/N. They’re grooming me to be something worse than a soldier." His voice was strained and for the first time you saw the fear in those eyes

"What do you mean?" you asked dread pooling in your stomach.

Taehyung’s gaze met yours and his next words sent a chill down your spine. "An assassin. They want me to be their assassin."

You stared at him disbelief flooding your mind. "No... they can't make you do this."

His hand gripped yours tighter desperation flickering in his eyes. "I have no choice. If I don’t become what they want, they’ll destroy my family Y/N. My father, my mother... they'll pay for my disobedience."

Tears welled in your eyes, your throat tightening. "Taehyung, there has to be another way. You can’t... you can’t become what they want you to be."

"I don’t want this" he whispered, his voice breaking. "But if it’s the only way to keep them alove... I’ll do it. I’ll become what they need me to be."

You couldn’t breathe the weight of his words crushing your chest. The boy you had grown up with the one who had promised you forever was slipping away, replaced by the assassin Monfort was molding him into.

"But you’ll lose yourself, Taehyung" you choked out. "The person I know the person who’s always cared about others... you’ll lose him."

He looked away his jaw clenched. "Maybe I already have."

From that day on the visits became fewer and far between. Each time he came there was more distance in his eyes more weariness in his movements. The boy you had known was disappearing consumed by the war and the expectations placed on him.

He became Monfort’s weapon, a shadow in the night carrying out orders that left him hollow. And yet, he always returned to you no matter the danger, no matter how deep he sank into the darkness.

"I still see you"

You whispered to him that night, as he sat on your windowsill "You’re still Taehyung. You’re still the boy I grew up with."

He had turned to you his eyes filled with a sadness that broke your heart. "Maybe to you, y/n. But to the rest of the world I’m just a monster."

And even then, you couldn’t bring yourself to believe it. To you, Taehyung would always be the boy who chased fireflies with you, the boy who promised you forever even when the world tore itself apart around you.

But you both knew that forever was slipping through your fingers, like sand in an hourglass running out too fast.

The cold wind swept through the abandoned streets, bringing with it the scent of ash and iron. In the distance you could hear the steady march of soldiers boots pounding against the broken cobblestones. And you knew. You knew before anyone said a word.

He had been captured.

Your feet moved on their own, carrying you toward the source of the growing crowd. The air buzzed with tension Dominion swelling like a storm. They had him. They had Taehyung. You pushed through the crowd, people shouting with anger and the venom in their voices blending into a blur. None of it mattered. Nothing mattered but him.

And there he was standing in the center of the square, hands tied in front of him, his once sharp calculating gaze now weary and resigned. He didn’t fight. There was no escape left for him.

The crowd surged and cries of hatred filled the air. “Murderer!” they screamed. “Assassin!”

But you couldn’t see what they saw. You saw him Taehyung the one who had been forced into a life of death, the one who had once told you that his heart still ached for the Sylvaria you both used to dream of. And he found you in the crowd, his eyes searching until they met yours.

In that moment everything else disappeared. The hatred, the violence, the bloodlust it all vanished. There was only him and the memories of what could have been.

“You shouldn’t be here” Taehyung’s voice was rough, but there was no anger in it. Only sadness.

You stepped forward, the crowd too focused on their chants to notice you slip between them. “And neither should you” you whispered your heart breaking as you took in the state of him. His once proud stance had crumbled, his clothes torn and stained his face battered and bruised. Yet, he was still Taehyung, even now.

“I told you this isn’t over” he murmured his gaze never leaving yours, though his words were as hollow as the promises he had once made.

Tears blurred your vision and you shook your head, unable to find the words to express the pain clawing at your heart. "I can’t lose you" you whispered though you knew it was already too late.

“They’ll never stop, Y/N. Not until the blood they crave is spilled” he said, but you saw the fear in his eyes fear not for himself, but for you.

You wanted to argue you wanted to to tell him that you would save him, that there had to be another way. But when you looked at the executioner standing nearby their hands gripping the sword with practiced ease your words failed you. The crowd was baying for his blood and no amount of pleading could change what was about to happen.

“Please…” Your voice cracked and you stepped forward until the soldiers blocked your path. “He’s not ...he’s not just an assassin. You don’t understand.”

Taehyung’s gaze softened and he shook his head gently. “Let it go, Y/N. It’s better this way.”

“No!” you cried your hands fisting at your sides as you fought against the soldiers who held you back. “I can’t let you go, Taehyung. I can’t watch them—”

His eyes were glassy as he smiled that small broken smile. “You’re the only thing I’ll remember, even in the end.”

The crowd grew louder, the jeering became unbearable. You could see the fury in their faces, the desire for revenge against a man they didn’t even know. To them Taehyung wasn’t a person. He was a symbol of everything they hated.

And yet, to you… he was everything.

The executioner stepped forward and time seemed to slow. The metallic gleam of the blade reflected the setting sun and your heart clenched painfully as the distance between it and Taehyung closed.

“No, no, no,” you sobbed, fighting harder against the soldiers your body trembling as the weight of what was about to happen crushed you.

Taehyung’s gaze never wavered from yours even as the blade was raised above his head.

“I love you” he mouthed, though the words were swallowed by the roar of the crowd.

And then the sword fell.

It was swift merciless. The sickening sound of metal meeting flesh echoed through the square and the world around you seemed to shatter.

The crowd cheered.

But you didn’t hear them.

You didn’t see the faces of those who celebrated the death of the man you loved. All you saw was Taehyung, his body crumpling to the ground in a lifeless heap his blood staining the earth beneath him.

You screamed the sound ripped from your throat as you broke free from the soldiers’ grasp and ran toward him. Your knees hit the ground and your hands trembled as you cradled his face, tears streaming down your cheeks.

“Taehyung” you whispered, your voice broken and raw. “Please… please come back.”

But he didn’t. He couldn’t. His once bright eyes were dull the life that had burned so fiercely in them now extinguished.

You pressed your forehead to his your sobs shaking your entire body as the weight of the loss settled deep into your soul.

“I love you” you whispered through your tears, though you knew he would never hear it.

Around you, the crowd dispersed, their bloodlust sated. To them, the war had claimed another victim. But to you, it had taken everything.

You stayed there holding his lifeless body as the sun set on the broken kingdom. The stars began to appear in the sky, glimmering like distant promises of hope but for you there was no light left.

All that remained was the silence, the cold and the memory of the him who had once loved you since forever.

#bts #bts fanfic #bts imagines #bts smut #namjoon #park jimin #kim seokjin #min yoongi #jung hoseok #kim taehyung #jeon jungkook #taehyung #bts bangtan boys #dystopian #angst #forbidden love

33 notes · View notes

the-peak-tmnt · 5 months

Note

Sorry if this has been asked before, but do you have a playlist for Reciprocity?

It hasn't been asked!

Uhhh this answer is yes and no lol. I'm not a huge music person and haven't listened to very much new music since I was in college 😅 Most of the songs are very cringe and angsty screamo/emo from the 2000s lol. Here are a select few from my personal Reciprocity playlist:

(made a playlist on Spotify here)

"Car Underwater" by Armor for Sleep

"Medicating" by Boys Night Out

"Animal I Have Become" (lol) by Three Days Grace

"Failure By Design" by Brand New

"Brother" by Lord Huron

"Video Tapez" by AmpLive feat. Del the Funky Homosapien

I also have songs for two specific chapters that have yet to come out. I guess you could consider it a little preview 😉

Chapter 17: The Parade - Part II

"Welcome to Bangkok" by Brand New

Chapter 18: The Parade - Part III

"Staying Alive" by Cursive

#reciprocity asks #reciprocity fic #reciprocity tmnt #reciprocity

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sweetandgentlecreature · 1 year

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First Light

Author’s Note: Hey, y’all! Me again! In this installation of Somethin’ Sweet, we’re back to Sy’s point of view. Grab some tissues and join me in my sad girl era. As always, thanks for stopping by!

Summary: Sy’s up early prepping for deployment and can’t help but relive the events from the night before.

Pairing: Captain Syverson x Female OC

Warnings: sexual content; nipple play, p-in-v intercourse, descriptions of male and female anatomy, explicit language, and adult themes. I am an adult, and due to the nature of this content, all works created by me will be rated for those 18 years and older. Minors, DNI.

Playlist

It never rains in Texas, but it did on the morning of Sy’s inevitable departure. Heavy clouds hung low in the sky as an early morning fog rolled in through the treeline. Bright, angry streaks of lightning raced across the sky and casted shadows through the room. A loud crash of thunder shook the old tin roof and startled him awake. In his moment of panic, Sy sat up straight and knocked the headboard into the wall behind the bed with a loud crack. It took him a second to recognize his surroundings in the dark, but once he did, he breathed a sigh of relief. A quick glance at the alarm clock on the nightstand beside him made his shoulders drop. 4:45am. Sy reached out and turned it off, as not to disturb his lover tucked so sweetly beneath the quilt beside him. That girl could sleep through a hurricane. A little fall of rain wouldn’t bother her much. Leaving over, he kissed the top of her head and lingered there, but only for a moment. Long enough to memorize the way she smelled. Honeysuckle and vanilla. Fuck, he’ll miss her.

Sy moved to plant his feet on the floor and ran a hand down his tired face. The last two weeks have been…a little less than ideal. It was his fault, really. He’d gotten the orders to ship out almost a month ago, but waited a while to tell her about them. He didn’t know what to say or how to say it. Things were just getting good here. Things were still so fun and new, but as always, Uncle Sam had other plans for him.

The first person he told was his mama. When he did, she barely flinched. Sy made the third generation of Syverson men who’d stormed courageously into war. His daddy served in Vietnam, his papaw in World War II. When duty called, they answered. It wasn’t easy, watching him walk out the door, never knowing if he’ll make it home again, but she’d made peace with it by now. “What good does it do fer me ta’ worry? Either you’ll come back, or ya wont. It’s in the Lord’s hands now.”

Sy trod lightly off to the bathroom to start the shower. The room filled with steam, just enough to fog the mirror as stood beneath the steady stream and let it run over his head. Staring down at his feet, he let the water consume him. Heavy drops clung to his lashes, but he didn’t bother to blink them away. His mind was somewhere else. With someone else.

Sy had always been a steak-and-potatoes kinda guy, but he’d barely touched his plate. Every bite felt too heavy in his stomach, like he’d traded out his ribeye for a hunk of lead instead. She’d spent so much time cooking for him, springing for only the best of meat and the freshest produce the grocery store had to offer. The least he could do was clear his plate. Lord knew when he’d get another meal like this again.

Once he’d managed to choke it down, he stood and started grabbing dishes to take to the sink, but she stopped him quickly. She’d barely said a word all night, and her interjection almost startled him. “No, baby,” she whispered, taking the plate from his hands. “Let me get those.”

Merrin kept her back to him as she filled the kitchen sink with hot, soapy water. Steam fogged the window above as she drifted off in thought. She was a million miles away from here, swimming in regret and longing for just a little more time. There was so much to do, so much to say, but the words never came out right. She hadn’t even realized she was crying until the tears began to blur her vision. Closing her eyes, she gave in and let them spill down her face. She’d fought so hard to keep her distance. To brace herself for the inevitable. In the end, she’d fallen hard. Harder than she’d ever expected to; head over heels and still tumbling. She braced herself against the sink and let her head hang low, covering her mouth to muffle the sobs that bubbled up from her trembling chest.

When a hand reached out to touch her shoulder, she gasped. Looking up again, Merrin stared into the reflection of his eyes in the pane of glass before them. Calloused fingertips brushed her hair to the side, then traced along the side of her delicate throat. His voice was low and deep, a rumbling baritone pressed against her back as he broke the silence.

“I’m not gone yet. Gimme one more night. Just one more night, alone with you.”

Merrin sniffled softly, wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and nodded. From there, Sy wasted no time. Most of the dishes made it into the sink, but a broken glass was the last thing on his mind when he placed her onto the countertop. Shoving his way between her open knees, his lips were hot and harsh as they crashed into hers. If she didn’t know any better, she might think he was angry with her. In truth, Sy was angry; angry at their situation, angry at the world, but not at her. Never at her.

He grabbed her up, one hand on the back of the neck and the other wrapped around her thigh, squeezing with a force hard enough to leave a bruise. The pain turned into pleasure, the aggression turned to lust, and Merrin returned the favor with shared fervor. She wasn’t scared of him. On the contrary, she relished in his smothering presence, digging perfectly manicured nails into the meat of his shoulder as she drew him in just as close. Her mouth worked with his in a haphazard clash of teeth and tongue. Even in the mess, there was still beauty to be found. She was soft and sweet where he was rough and hungry. A yin to a yang, souls intertwined as one.

His shirt hit the floor first, and her sundress followed soon after. Merrin grabbed him by the belt and yanked until his hips pressed sharply into her own. They worked together to loosen the buckle and pop the button beneath it, ripping it from the loops and tossing it away to clatter to the floor. Rough hands came up to cup her breasts, bare and warm, a perfect fit for each palm. He squeezed gently and smirked against her neck, relishing in her pleads for more.

“Clay,” she whispered, clinging to him as he dropped his head to nuzzle against one hardened nipple, then the other. Always one to please, he licked his lips and welcomed one into his mouth. He took his time, gazing up through thick lashes as he moved from one breast to the other. She looked like an angel, basking in the glow of the sunset that poured in around her. But Merrin was no saint, far from it, and couldn’t stand his temptation for long. She let a hand fall between them to meet the bulge in his jeans and palmed it gently. She could almost feel the ache beneath the distressed denim; a steady, throbbing need that seeked relief that only she could provide. The words came before she could stop them. “Fuck me, Clay.”

Sy mumbled a gruff “Yes ma’am” into the flesh of her breasts and tugged himself free from his boxers. Never one to keep his lady waiting, he hooked a finger into the gusset of her panties and pulled them to the side. The sight of her wet heat made his mouth water. Any other time, he’d drop to his knees right then and there to have his fill, but it wasn’t what they needed the most right now. Right now, he needed to be inside of her, just as much as she needed to feel him there. He held the base of his erection and traced the swollen head through her folds, mouth agape and almost drooling as his eyes rolled to the back of his head in ecstasy.

“Fuck, honey. So wet for me.”

She gasped when the tip of his cock caught at her slick opening. The delicious burn from the stretch she felt as he pushed forward inside of her stole the breath from her lungs. They both watched as he crossed the threshold and buried himself deep inside of her. Breathy moans and whimpers of lust echoed through the room, and Sy took a moment to let her catch her breath again.

“Fuck, baby…”

She met his gaze once more, eyes wide and full of fire as she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down for another kiss. Sy tangled his fingers in the hair at the nape of her neck, choosing to indulge her for a while, until he just couldn’t take it anymore. His retreat was nice and slow, but he didn’t pull out all of the way. Tugging her head back roughly, he buried his face in the crook of her neck and relished in the way she tensed around him. Nipping at her throat, he growled against her pulse and smirked. “So tight, honey. I’m not gonna last long.”

She answered with the rake of her nails down his back, leaving tender, pink lines in their wake, then dug them into the flesh of his bare ass. Shoving herself back onto his cock, she groaned loudly.

“Don’t tease me, Clay. I need you.”

That was all the encouragement he needed. With a harsh thrust of his hips, he bottomed out completely. Sy held her down by the waist as he took what he wanted from her. In and out, over and over, he pounded into her with a fervor she’d never seen before. Their lust was wild and sinful as he stood there at the counter and fucked her into a mindless mess. A familiar tightness built somewhere deep in her gut, and before she could warn him, she was coming undone. Her eyes filled with tears, filled with so much emotion, then spilled down her cheeks in hot, furious streams.

It didn’t stop there. He had her again on the couch, and again against the front door, then once more upstairs in their room. The bed creaked under their shifting weight. Sweat poured from his face as he held one of her legs over his shoulder. Merrin clung to the sheets beneath her as he approached another climax. Just when she thought she couldn’t handle any more, he proved her wrong.

“Come on, sugar,” he begged, wiped his brow with the back of his hand and picked up the pace. “Gimme one more. Just one more.”

He’d been saying that for hours, but this time, he was telling the truth. His muscles ached and cramped, his body pleaded with him to give it up, but he was determined to make this a night to remember. He’d be gone for God knows how long; he wanted to make sure she’d had her fill before he left. Sy kept his promise and within seconds, he crashed over the edge of climax right along with her. Chests heaving and voices hoarse, they rode out their highs together and collapsed into a heap of tangled limbs. Sy stared up at the ceiling as he fought to regain composure and felt her curl up against his side. “Shit.”

“Yeah. Me too.”

Merrin held up a hand up and they smacked palms, victorious in their conquest. All qualms were forgotten, at least for a little while.

“High five.”

“Good sex.”

Standing at the sink, a towel wrapped around his waist, Sy stared at himself in the mirror. He scratched at his chin and turned his head from side to side, then flipped the switch on the side of the clippers. The first pass up the underside of his chin took off most of the length. He dusted a tuft of fuzz from the guards and let it fall into the basin before him. Sy made quick work of taking it all off, then grabbed the shaving cream to smooth over the stubble left behind. He moved with a surgeon's precision, each drag of the razor taking away the foam and leaving baby-smooth skin behind. Once he was finished, he bent down and filled his hands with warm water to wash his face. Just as he reached for the aftershave in the medicine cabinet, two delicate arms wrapped around his middle and squeezed gently. He brought one of them up and pressed her knuckles to his lips, kissing them as he spoke.

“What’re you doin’ up?”

Merrin yawned against his back and nuzzled her face there. Her eyes were heavy with the sleep that she just couldn’t shake. He reached back to run his fingers through her hair, twirling and twisting strands of amber around calloused fingertips as they stood in a shared silence. She raked her nails through the hair on his chest and dug them into hardened flesh, putting up a weak fight to keep him there for just a little while longer. “Couldn’t sleep,” was all she said as another roll of thunder echoed somewhere off in the distance. Sy glanced back at her from over his shoulder and found her staring up at him. She traced his cheekbone and down to the line of his jaw, mesmerized by the clean-shaven stranger who stood before her now.

“Most men grow a beard to hide their faces. You, though…” she pressed her thumb into the dimple on his chin. “You’ve got nothing to hide.”

She left him there with a gentle pat to the chest, then turned to head back into the bedroom. He watched her as she went, wearing nothing but the cheeky little splash of ink that was tatted across the dimples on her lower back and the panties that rested beneath them. A drunken mistake from Spring Breaks of old, left to peak from beneath low-rise jeans as a reminder of wilder days. Sy chuckled to himself and shook his head. He could hardly handle her now; if they’d met back then, he could only imagine the trouble she’d get him into. She’d have eaten him alive.

To his dismay, traffic was fairly light on their way to the airport. The skies above were a dusty shade of blue, vast and empty as the rising sun chased away the rain. Fields of wheat and grain blurred past on either side as they left their sleepy little town in the rear view. Sy drove with one hand on the wheel and the other resting in her lap. Every now and then he’d hold her thigh, knead and squeeze, then cut his eyes from the road and over to her in silent reassurance. Every radio station from here to Houston seemed to play nothing but love songs, and each one salted the wound just a little bit more. Merrin tried to surf from station to station, genre to genre, but eventually gave up, so they rode in silence instead.

Sy didn’t mind the quiet. It felt more honest than anything he could say now. “It’ll be alright, honey.” “We’ll write every day.” “I’ll be home before you know it.” He couldn’t guarantee anything, and they both knew that.

Once they’d made it past security, Sy found a bench to sit on and dropped his bag at his feet. When he looked over to her, she was staring off somewhere in the distance, a million miles away again. To her, this felt like punishment. Like the universe had nothing better to do than shit on the best relationship she’d ever had. Karma had finally caught up to her, and this was how she was meant to pay for her transgressions.

“This isn’t fair.”

Clayton sighed and took her hand into his. “I’m sorry, darlin’. Life isn’t–” She cut him off.

“Don’t you dare tell me that life isn’t fair. I know life isn’t fair. This is…” Merrin shook her head. “This is cruel.”

He tried to smile, to crack a joke, to lighten the mood, but one look at her shut it all down. She was right. He’d been on the verge of hanging it up, of finally giving in and taking that cushy desk job at base to be closer to his mama, but his pride had gotten in the way. He knew he had at least one more deployment in him. One more, and he’d give it up for good. He just wasn’t expecting it to be so soon.

Everything had changed, now that he had Merrin. She was everything that he wasn’t. Gentle, but not easy to mislead; Stubborn, but only when necessary; Kind-hearted to those in need; and so fucking sweet. Now, he fought for her. If this it took to keep her safe, he’d do it in a heartbeat. Now, he had someone worth fighting for.

Wrapping her up tightly, Sy held her to his chest and buried his face in her hair. He pressed a fierce kiss to the top of her head and let his eyes close for a moment. They held each other just like that until his flight was called. Then they walked the Green Mile all the way down to the gate, where he pulled her aside and took her hands into both of his. His eyes searched hers desperately in a last ditch effort to commit them to memory. Shades of blue and green, specks of gold around the iris, as wild as the tide and as vast as the sea. When he kissed her, it was deep and lascivious. He didn’t care who saw. Fuck ‘em. Let them look. Sy broke his kiss and pressed his forehead to hers, dug the end of his crooked nose into her cheek and breathed her in for as long as he could.

“I love you, Merrin Paige. More than you’ll ever know.”

His words stole the breath from her chest. Three little words she never expected to hear him say. Three little words that paralyzed her, right where she stood. He kissed her cheek one last time, grabbed his bags, and headed off to catch his flight. Merrin watched from the window as the plane taxied at the end of the runway. A light drizzle began to sputter outside, just enough to blur her vision as the plane disappeared high into the clouds. Just like that, he was gone.

It never rains in Texas, but it did on the morning of Sy’s inevitable departure. It never rains in Texas, and today, Merrin hated the rain.

Far from home, Sy checked his watch as he waited for the line to ring. Static crackled in his ear as he cradled the phone between his head and his shoulder. 2pm in Baqubah; 10pm in Houston. If he was right, she’d still be up. Probably curled up in bed with a book, one of those dirty little romances she liked so much. Leaning back in his chair, he stretched and moaned. If Texas was hot, then this was hell.

Then, a click. The old desk chair groaned when he sat up straight. He listened for a moment, waiting for someone to answer, then checked the signal to make sure that the call had gone through. Fuck. Don’t let it be the answering machine.

“Sy?” a sweet voice chirped over the static. He sighed, relieved, and smiled widely at the sound of his name.

“Yeah, baby,” he breathed. “It's me. How’s it–”

She cut him off. What she had to say couldn’t wait.

“I love you too.”

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hellinistical · 5 days

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fem! reader x rafayel. royal! au. sea horror! au. heavy angst. minor and major character death. slow burn. romance. fluff. explicit smut. trauma. religious themes. gore; hinted torture, cannibalism, decapitation, self-cannibalism. violence. wc: 4796 | status: on-going

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II: GOLD STRUCK

The wagon wheels were obviously wobbly, the axles needing immediate tightening, not that anyone would care to repair them, though. The rainy season was in full effect, and the roads were the sky’s first victim. A dog chased after a squirrel, it’s barking annoying the merchant nearby. He cursed the dog and his bloodline.

“To hell with Linkon! To hell with this damned town!” His broom thwacked at the wood sign on his stall. “When I catch you, you damned dog, why, you’ll be roasted with your litter!”

“Oh Mr. Heggins, relax! It’s just a dog!” “Just a dog? Why you- you let him out, didn’t you, Caleb? I should get you fired from the mines for this!”

Caleb laughed, crow's feet forming by his eyes as he smiled big. His hands held orchids. He had picked them from his mother's garden earlier that morning, meticulously picking the best ones without her knowing. In his pocket, a small box rested.

Mr. Heggins eyes note the flowers and the small lump in his pocket.

“Today's the day, eh?”

Caleb nodded, his cheeks tinging with red.

“Yes, sir. I plan to ask tonight.”

“Ah, before the king's carriages come? Bad timing, no?”

“No, sir.”

It's quiet for a moment before the old man speaks up.

“And out of everyone you could have, you chose the L/n's daughter.” He lets out a pitiful chuckle. “I won't question it, but to each their own.”

As the old man walked off, Caleb hummed, his hand going to his pocket, patting it affectionately as he walked on through the streets.

He grabbed some pumpkin bread, the honey, and roasted almonds on it making it smell heavenly.

He collected some gifts. A doll, a kite, perfumes, and a watch.

And then he headed off towards Linkon's hill village.

*** Hot water splashed onto the weathered wood floorboards, the basin full to the brim. Sprigs of lavender, rosemary, and orange slices floated on the water, and Mrs. L/n poured fresh milk into the tub.

“Is this really necessary?” Y/n huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. “I’m not getting in there- I won’t even be selected.” “Yes, you are. And I’m tired of you not listening to me.” “Mother- owowowowowowow!”

The older woman grabbed her ear, pinching it lightly as she pulled her daughter towards the tub. Y/n held onto the wall, protesting. “I’m not going in there you; put milk in there! It’ll feel weird!” “Take the damn bath, child! Eva! Call your sisters and come here!”

“Coming, Mother!”

In moments, Y/n’s sisters came into the room. Eva smiled cheekily. “Today’s the day~!” “Like hell it is.” She shot back, wriggling in her mother’s grip. “You all act like you want me to get picked! Does Gran even know what you’re doing? Ma?” Her mother looked away, her hands going to the clasp on the back of Y/n’s dress. She undid it quickly, and the fabric pooled at her feet, ignoring her question.

“Strip out of your garments- Gods, you reek- is this wool? Y/n! You messed with the sheep again!” “I did not! I was with the ram- hey!” She placed her hand on the back of her head, the sting from her mother’s popping strong.

Lucy laughed, her chubby hands taking the stripped clothes to the wash.

“You’ve all gone mad. I hope you know that.” It comes out as a grumble, but she goes into the tub. But as soon as she stepped in, she complained. “The water’s freezing!” “That’s what you get for talking so long.” Her mother quipped. Her face sours as an orange slice touches her knee.

Raising her leg, Eva takes it, scrubbing it down as her mother starts to work on her hair. She hisses, her scalp tender as it gets scrubbed as well.

“The weather is lovely, isn’t it?” “Just dandy.”

“What time is it?” “Half after 12, mother.” “Lord! We need to hurry then.” “Did you always have such a strawberry complexion, sister?” Y/n kicks water at her sister. “Quiet, you-”

She’s interrupted by her mother pouring a bucket of water over her head. Her hair gets thrown in her face, and she swallows some soapy, milky water, sputtering and coughing.

“Both of you, quiet. I’ll be damned if our good name is tarnished because you both decide to act like Neanderthals.

Y/n coughed out some more water. “I think calling me a Neanderthal isn’t fair- but Eva on the other hand- Oh my fucki- can you stop getting soap in my eyes?!”

“Language!”

***

Y/n shivers as she steps out of the basin, her arms crossed, knees turned, and locked.

Some of the rosemary was tangled in her hair, but she paid it no mind.

Wrapping a towel around her body, Eva grabbed a comb, getting to work on untangling the knots and rosemary in her hair.

“This is ridiculous.”

“You would still get picked if you were covered in cow shit, so cease your bitching,” her mother shot back, not missing a beat as she scrubbed her daughter’s hair with renewed vigor.

Y/n's mouth dropped open, and she groaned. “You’re impossible!”

But her mother only raised an eyebrow. “And yet, here you are, complaining like always.”

Lucy waddled into the room, her small arms bundled up with a light blue chemise gown, the fabric soft and worn from years of storage. The short sleeves were cuffed, and though the dress had once been elegant, it was now out of date- the gaudy stitching showing the era it was from. Y/n’s eyes widened in horror as she realized what Lucy was holding.

“You can’t seriously expect me to—” Y/n began, her voice rising in protest.

But before she could finish, her mother yanked the towel off her body with practiced efficiency. “Of course not,” Mrs. L/n replied, her tone calm and unwavering. “Not until you’ve been plucked.”

Eva stepped forward, smirking as she handed her mother a razor, her grin mischievous. Y/n stared at it, her lips parting in disbelief. “Oh, come on...”

Mrs. L/n motioned for the sisters to leave. Eva, Lucy, and the others filed out, whispering and giggling amongst themselves as they shut the door behind them, leaving the room unusually still. The bright daylight streaming through the window seemed too cheerful for what was about to happen.

Y/n sighed heavily and sat on the small stool, arms wrapped around herself in half-hearted defiance. Her mother wordlessly knelt beside her, taking the razor and beginning the task of smoothing over her skin with slow, deliberate strokes.

For a few moments, the only sound in the room was the quiet scrape of the blade against her skin, the soft splash of water, and the occasional sigh from Y/n. It was a silence filled with things left unsaid, the weight of what was coming pressing on both of them.

Y/n looked down at her hands, picking at a loose thread on the towel. "I still don't think this is going to work. They'll want someone else," she murmured, not meeting her mother's eyes.

Her mother didn't respond immediately, her hands steady as she worked. Finally, she spoke, her voice softer than before. "It’s not about what they want, Y/n. It’s about what you’re worth. Remember, the better you do, the better we all do."

“Why do you want me to get picked so badly?” Y/n asked quietly, her voice trembling despite her attempts to sound nonchalant. “You know I’ll mess up.”

Mrs. L/n paused mid-stroke, her hands hovering for a moment before continuing, the razor gently gliding over her daughter's skin. She didn't meet Y/n’s gaze, but her words were firm.

“I don’t want you to go. What gave you that idea?”

Y/n blinked, caught off guard by the blunt response. Her throat tightened, but she said nothing, the silence suddenly heavy between them.

Her mother’s eyes were fixed on her task, but the strain in her voice betrayed her emotions. “You think I want to see you paraded around like livestock? Gods know I don’t.” She set the razor aside for a moment, finally looking up at Y/n. “But if you’re chosen… at least you’ll be safe.”

Y/n swallowed hard, not knowing what to say. For once, she had no sharp retort.

"...They'll smell the farm on me," Y/n tried to joke, a small smirk tugging at her lips. "And it's not like the town doesn't have a reputation for me."

Mrs. L/n froze, her brow furrowing before she snapped, "Y/n M/n L/n. You will stop talking this instant!" She threw her hands up in exasperation, the razor clattering against the basin. “Ugh, by the Gods, you will jinx yourself, and no amount of rosemary will be able to fix it!”

Y/n bit her lip, stifling a laugh despite the tension in the air. She knew her mother meant well, but the whole situation still felt so surreal—so out of place for someone like her.

There was a knock on the door. Y/n's head snapped toward it, her brows knitting in confusion. Her father’s voice called through the wooden frame, calm and warm as always.

“The boy is here, my loves.”

Y/n frowned. "Caleb? What’s he doing here?"

Mrs. L/n didn’t answer, her focus entirely on finishing the task at hand. She ignored Y/n’s questioning gaze and continued to move the razor carefully, finishing her legs before working up to her cunt.

"Never mind that," her mother finally said, her tone clipped. "We need to finish."

She turned toward the door, calling out in her usual brisk, commanding voice, “There’s a roast in the oven! Check it for me, please!”

“Aye, I will,” her father replied, the sound of his footsteps retreating down the hall.

Y/n slouched slightly on the stool, still puzzled. “He does know today is the collection, right?” Y/n asked, a hint of uncertainty creeping into her voice.

“Perhaps he’s wishing to bid you good luck. But it will have to wait,” her mother replied, still focused on her work.

“Oh.”

Y/n sighed, the thought lingering in her mind. It made sense enough. They had talked about their plans—what they would do if she didn’t get picked. Caleb would take his father’s horse, and they’d ride out of Linkon together. A smile tugged at her lips as she recalled the silly memory of him telling her the same thing every year.

But she hadn’t seen him lately; he was always busy with family matters, tending to the farm, or preparing for whatever life awaited him.

Once Y/n was dressed, she stood stiffly, adjusting the light blue gown that felt foreign against her skin. “I can feel every stitch, Mama.”

“It’s because your skin’s bare. It’s a good feeling. A good thing,” her mother replied, a hint of pride in her voice.

“I’ll get cold easier.”

“Oh please. You weren’t even furry,” her mother teased.

Y/n let out an unexpected laugh, the tension breaking for just a moment. But then the door swung open, and her father stepped in, whistling a cheerful tune.

“There she is. My darlings!” He kissed his wife and then pressed a warm kiss to Y/n’s cheek. He pauses. “You smell like the farm.”

Y/n shot a look at her mother. “Told you so.”

“He's messing with you,” her mother said, rolling her eyes.

Just then, Caleb ducked his head under the doorframe, a bright smile on his face. “Good evening, Mrs. L/n. I’ve brought gifts.”

“Gifts? You shouldn’t have!” her mother exclaimed, a warm smile spreading across her face.

“I wanted to,” Caleb said, his tone sincere.

“Oh, you sweet boy. Come, let’s go talk.” Mrs. L/n took Caleb’s hand, pulling him out of the washroom.

As their eyes met, Caleb’s purple gaze sparkled with a kind of mischief that made Y/n’s heart race. She felt her cheeks heat up but managed to wave, a shy smile breaking through her earlier worries.

Once they left, Y/n found herself alone with her father in the warm, sunlit room. The air was thick with the lingering scents of lavender and rosemary, remnants of her mother’s frantic preparations. Mr. L/n glanced out the door, ensuring it was securely closed before turning to face her, his expression suddenly serious.

“Are you nervous, child?” he asked, his voice low and steady, a contrast to the bustling energy that had just filled the space.

“Nervous?” Y/n echoed, furrowing her brow in confusion. “About today?”

“Hm... no, can’t say I am.” She crossed her arms, trying to project confidence, but the truth was a tangle of emotions lay beneath her surface.

He studied her for a moment, the lines on his face deepening with concern. “You’re a horrible liar. That’s my fault. Should have taught you better.”

“Papa—”

“Listen. You’re no fool. You’ve got a good head on you,” he said, placing a hand on his chin, his thumb tracing the stubble there as he exhaled slowly, the weight of his thoughts pressing down like a storm cloud.

Y/n felt a knot tighten in her stomach, her heart racing as he continued. “That boy is going to propose. And you need to accept.”

Her eyes widened in shock, disbelief flashing across her face. “Huh?”

“That's how you don’t get picked,” he insisted, his tone firm yet gentle, as if trying to shield her from the harsh realities of their world.

“But—”

“Listen to me, child. You need to accept—today. Before it’s too late. Once you’re engaged, they can’t collect you.”

“To Caleb?” she asked, her voice trembling with a mix of hope and uncertainty. The idea danced in her mind like a flickering flame, both enticing and frightening. Would it truly save her?

“Yes!” he affirmed, leaning closer, his eyes locking onto hers with a fervent intensity. “You think we have luck when it comes to this sort of thing? We don’t,” Mr. L/n continued, his voice lowering even further as he leaned closer. “We should have married you to him months ago, but there was never an opportunity. We have the papers. You just need to have some witnesses—”

“You cheated the system?!” Y/n whisper-yelled, her eyes wide with a mix of disbelief and indignation.

“Of course I did!” he replied, a hint of pride breaking through his urgency. “I did it to protect you. You have no idea what they do to the girls they collect. We have to outsmart them.”

“I can’t marry Caleb! Are you crazy? I don’t even want to get married—” Y/n protested, her voice rising in disbelief.

“This isn’t about what you want! You love the boy; he loves you!” Mr. L/n countered, his frustration simmering beneath the surface.

“Yeah, but—” she started, her mind racing as she tried to find the right words.

“Listen to me,” he urged, his voice softening as he stepped closer. “This is about survival. The kingdom doesn’t care about your dreams or desires; they only see you as another name on a list. But if you’re engaged, they can’t touch you.”

Y/n took a deep breath, the reality of her situation weighing heavily on her chest. “What if Caleb doesn’t want this? What if he thinks I’m just using him?”

“Caleb knows—he's been helping orchestrate this!” Mr. L/n interjected, a mix of urgency and relief washing over him.

Y/n’s eyes widened in disbelief. “What do you mean he knows? How could you—?”

“I spoke to him. He understands the situation, Y/n. He’s been looking out for you, and he wants to keep you safe.” Her father’s voice softened, but the intensity of his words remained.

“Caleb is in on this?” she asked, her mind racing. The idea that Caleb had been part of this plan, that he had considered her fate alongside his own, sent her heart racing.

“Yes! He cares for you deeply, and he’s willing to do whatever it takes to protect you,” Mr. L/n explained, a hint of pride- and something else- in his voice.

She closed her eyes for a moment, envisioning Caleb’s kind smile and the playful banter they shared. Could he really be ready for something so serious? The thought of it both terrified and thrilled her.

***

Caleb sat in the dingy dining room of the L/n household, his hand absently resting in his pocket. The scent of roasted meat wafted through the air, mingling with the musty smell of the worn furniture. Truthfully, the L/n farmland was rich and fruitful, bursting with potential, but the home itself felt shabby and neglected.

“Once we’re married, I can fix this place up…” he mumbled to himself, envisioning the changes he could make. The walls painted fresh, new furniture, perhaps even a small garden where Y/n could grow flowers. His heart swelled at the thought.

In the corner of the room, her sisters and mother were clustered together, giggling and gushing over the gifts he had brought—colorful ribbons, handmade trinkets, and sweets. Their excitement filled the air, but Caleb was lost in his own thoughts, barely noticing their chatter.

It wasn’t until Y/n emerged from the washroom, her father beside her, that he realized she was near. His heart skipped a beat as she stepped into the room, her vibrant orange hair catching the light. She looked radiant, even in the simple gown she wore, and a smile spread across his face as their eyes met.

“Good evenin', Y/n,” he greeted, warmth flooding his voice. “You look lovely.”

Y/n’s cheeks flushed as she returned his smile, but there was an uncertainty in her gaze that made him wonder what was going through her mind. He wanted to ask about the selection ceremony, about her feelings, but for now, he simply stood there, hoping the moment would allow for the words to come.

“Er, hello, Caleb,” Y/n replied, her voice slightly shaky but warm.

He chuckled, a playful glint in his purple eyes. “You look like a strawberry.”

Eva snorted from the corner, unable to stifle her laughter. Y/n cleared her throat, determined to hold her ground. “Yes, well, thank you. They’re in season.”

“Are they now?” Caleb’s tone was teasing, and Y/n couldn’t help but smile despite the slight embarrassment. Strawberries weren’t in season, but he enjoyed the banter.

“They are,” she insisted, a spark lighting up her eyes.

“Then I trust you know where the ripe one is?” His gaze was warm, his smile contagious.

Y/n felt her cheeks flush deeper, but before she could respond, he gently took her hand, intertwining his fingers with hers. The touch sent a pleasant shiver down her spine. Together, they walked out of the house, the chatter of her family fading behind them.

As they stepped into the sunlit yard, the gentle breeze carried the scent of the sea, mingling with the earthy aromas of the farm. Caleb turned to her, his expression shifting to something more serious. “I’ve been thinking about what’s happening today…”

Y/n’s heart raced. She knew this was the moment to speak up, to share her fears and her father’s plan. But for now, she let the warmth of his hand and the softness of the afternoon settle around them, hoping to find the right words as they moved further from the house and deeper into the lush fields.

“Listen... I wanna marry you—” Caleb began, his tone earnest.

“Yes,” Y/n interrupted, her heart racing.

“What?” His expression shifted, surprise flashing across his face.

“Yes! I’ll marry you,” she declared, her excitement bubbling over.

“Let me finish,” he said, his brow furrowing slightly.

Y/n looked at him, confusion evident in her eyes.

Caleb’s smile faded, replaced by a serious expression. “Y/n. Don’t get me wrong. You’re a beautiful woman. And we’re good friends. But really, it’d be more of an exchange. I’ll marry you. But I want your father’s farm.”

Her eyes widened in disbelief. “Excuse me?”

“I mean it,” he pressed, his voice steady but tinged with urgency. “If we’re going to make this work, we need to secure the land. The L/n farm is rich, and with your hand in marriage, I’d have both a partner and a stake in something that could thrive.”

Y/n felt her heart drop. The warmth of the moment had evaporated, replaced by a chill of realization. “You want to marry me for the farm?” she asked, hurt creeping into her voice.

Caleb’s expression hardened, his jaw set. “You thought this wouldn’t have an exchange? Marriage is a contract. I keep you safe, I get the land.”

“I can’t give you what isn’t mine,” Y/n shot back, her voice rising in disbelief.

“Look, you’re inheriting the farm. Your father is old. When I marry you, I inherit the farm instead. You’ll still have your sheep and goats, but I want you to stay in the gardens with the flowers.” He stepped closer, his eyes earnest. “Think about it. I’ll spruce the place up, combine our land. We can make a name for ourselves!”

Y/n stared at him, the weight of his words settling heavily on her shoulders. “You’re talking about my life as if it’s just an asset, Caleb! What if I don’t want to be tied to the farm? What if I want to travel, to explore beyond Linkon?”

He paused, the intensity in his eyes faltering. “But this is our home! This is where our lives are. We can make it better together.”

Caleb’s expression softened momentarily, but he quickly masked it with determination. “I’m not trying to control you! I just see potential—”

“Potential for what? For you to fulfill your dreams at the expense of mine?” Y/n felt anger bubbling inside her. “You’re reducing our relationship to a business deal!”

“I’m trying to think practically!” he insisted, frustration creeping into his voice. “We live in a harsh world, Y/n. If you get chosen today, it could be the end of everything for us. I just want to protect you!.... I care about you. But this isn’t just about us. It’s about doing what’ll be best.”

Silence hung between them, heavy with unspoken words and emotions. Y/n looked at him.

...Why did it feel scripted?

She ignores the brief thought, letting it slip just as quickly as it had arrived. “I need time to think,” she said, her voice barely a whisper.

“You don’t have time to think,” Caleb said suddenly, pulling a small box from his pocket. He opened it to reveal a simple yet elegant ring. “I got the ring. Just wear it.”

“You’re kidding,” Y/n replied, disbelief flooding her voice.

“I’m not,” he insisted, his gaze steady.

“Caleb—” she started, but he interrupted her.

“That farm is precious, and your family doesn’t even see it. Just marry me and let me help you.”

Y/n’s heart raced as she stared at the ring. “You can’t just expect me to decide everything right now! This is my life we’re talking about!”

“I know it is! But we’re out of time. If you don’t make a choice before the selection, you could end up as one of those girls, the ones that don't get anything good!”

The gravity of his words settled in her chest like a stone. She thought of the stories her grandmother had told her, the dark legends woven through the village about the gathering and the sacrifices. The idea of becoming one of those girls made her stomach churn.

“Caleb, this isn’t the way,” she said, shaking her head. “I don’t want to feel like I’m being sold off or bartered for land.”

“But you wouldn’t be! You’d be marrying someone who loves you, who wants to protect you!” He took a step closer, desperation flickering in his eyes. “Please, just wear the ring. We can figure everything else out together.”

Scripted. It felt so scripted. But why?

Y/n felt torn, her heart battling against her mind. The prospect of safety and partnership clashed with her desire for freedom and choice. “I… I need to think about it,” she said, her voice trembling.

“Look, if you’re not gonna marry me, I can wait for Eva. Or I’ll marry Lorraine—”

“Eva? Lorraine? Excuse me? Them of all people?” Y/n shot back, incredulous. The idea felt like a slap. Lorraine was the village gossip, always getting into trouble and never taking anything seriously. And her sister? Absolutely.

Caleb shrugged, a smirk playing on his lips. “I’m just saying, she wouldn’t mind. If you don’t want me, someone else will step in.”

“Right, because that’s how love works,” Y/n snapped, her frustration boiling over. “You can’t just jump from one sister to another like we’re some kind of game to you!”

“It’s not a game!” he argued, stepping closer, the tension thickening the air between them. “This is about survival, Y/n! Don’t you see? You can either have me fighting for you or risk being taken away, offered to the sea. I don’t want to lose you!”

Y/n’s heart raced as she considered his words again, the weight of the impending selection pressing down on her. The fear of the Dark Sea loomed larger than ever. “But I don’t want to feel trapped,” she said, her voice quieter now, almost pleading.

Caleb softened, his expression earnest. “You won’t be trapped with me. We can make it work, and build a life together. Just think about it—before it’s too late.”

As she looked into his eyes, Y/n felt a swirl of emotions—fear, anger, and- disgust? But the thought of marrying him out of desperation gnawed at her conscience. “I need more time- stop saying we don't have it."

“Time is the one thing we don’t have,” he replied, frustration creeping back into his voice. “Please, just wear the ring. Show me you’ll consider this. I can’t bear the thought of you being chosen—”

“Y/n! Come on, we’re waiting for you!” Eva’s voice called from the house, pulling her back to reality.

Caleb took her hand, his grip firm but gentle, as he slid the ring onto her finger. “Insurance. Just in case,” he said, his voice steady despite the uncertainty swirling around them.

Y/n blinked, her heart racing, but before she could respond, laughter echoed from inside the house. Her family had gathered, and when they saw Caleb placing the ring on her finger, their cheers erupted like a sudden storm.

“Oh, look at that!” her mother exclaimed, beaming. “My darling Y/n is engaged!”

Y/n’s eyes widened in shock. “No! Wait!” But the joyous noise drowned out her protests. Eva clapped her hands, and Lucy jumped up and down, her chubby cheeks flushed with excitement.

“Caleb! You clever boy!” Eva gushed. “We knew you’d come through!”

“But you don’t understand—” Y/n started, but her voice was lost in the commotion.

“Come here, you two!” Mrs. L/n pulled Y/n into a tight embrace, tears of joy glimmering in her eyes. “I’m so proud of you, my sweet girl. You’re all grown up!”

Y/n felt the weight of her mother’s affection, but dread settled heavily in her chest. She glanced at Caleb, searching for a flicker of understanding, but he was caught up in the whirlwind of celebration, a victorious grin plastered across his face.

“Now we can start planning the wedding!” her mother continued, clapping her hands together. “This is wonderful news! The whole village will be thrilled!”

Y/n’s heart sank. The idea of a wedding felt like a chain, tightening around her, and the implications of her father’s words crashed over her again. Marrying Caleb was supposed to be a lifeline, a way to escape the selection—but something was off.

“Are you really happy about this?” she whispered to Caleb, who was now being congratulated by her father.

He turned, his expression earnest. “Of course I am. This is our chance. You’ll see.”

But Y/n could only nod, a forced smile on her lips, as the celebration continued around her.

And in the distance, carriages were coming, adorned with the rain clouds.

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physalian · 1 month

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List of “I need to calm the fuck down” music

(please reblog your own)

Most Trance Music if this list is intimidating- Usually not something you dance to, doesn’t have a lot of percussion and erratic noise. It’s supposed to entrance you.

This list spans the following genres: Pop, folk, grunge, cinematic, and rock.

Maybe I’ll make a Spotify playlist or something with all of them, idk. These are not in alphabetical order but I tried to keep multiple artist entries grouped.

I had the whole thing color-coded but Tumblr didn't like that so here's it in boring text (I still have the colored one if anyone wants it)

WITH LYRICS

Good for Me - Above & Beyond

On a Good Day - Above & Beyond

Blue Sky Action - Above & Beyond

The Hollywood Bowl Show - Above & Beyond

I Love You Always Forever - Donna Lewis

I Will Follow You Into the Dark - Death Cab for Cutie

Through the Eyes of a Child - AURORA

Retrograde - Pearl Jam

Run Boy Run - Woodkid

The Night We Met - Lord Huron

Would That I - Hozier

After All These Years- Journey

Let it All Go - Birdy

Holocene - Bon Iver

Home I/II - Dotan

Outro - M83

Flares - The Script

O - Coldplay

Fly On - Coldplay

Strawberry Swing - Coldplay

Midnight - Coldplay

Lovers in Japan (Acoustic) - Coldplay

Clocks - Coldplay

Every Teardrop is a Waterfall - Coldplay

Up & Up - Coldplay

Fix You - Coldplay

Oceans - Seafret

Dice - Finley Quaye

Medicine - Daughter

Wash Away - Joe Purdy

Upside Down - Jack Johnson

Heartbeats - Jose Gonzales

Teardrop - Massive Attack

I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For - U2

Where the Streets Have No Name - U2

Beyond the Sea - Bobby Darin

Life is a Highway - Rascal Flatts

Something I Need - OneRepublic

Dead in the Water - Ellie Goulding

Mr. Brightside - The Killers

Morning Elvis - Florence + The Machine

End of Love - Florence + The Machine

What the Water Gave Me - Florence + The Machine

Sky Full of Song - Florence + The Machine

Free - Florence + The Machine

Choreomania - Florence + The Machine

Walls - Kings of Leon

While My Guitar Gently Weeps - Tom Petty/Prince

Silver Spring - Fleetwood Mac

Big Love - Fleetwood Mac

Landslide - Fleetwood Mac

Everywhere - Fleetwood Mac

Don’t Look Back in Anger - Oasis

The Albatross - Taylor Swift

The Archer - Taylor Swift

You’re On Your Own Kid - Taylor Swift

Clean - Taylor Swift

On My Way - Phil Collins

Hoppipolla - Sigur Ros

I Shall Not Walk Alone - The Blind Boys of Alabama

Send Me On My Way - Rusted Root

Manic - Cloves

Dorian - Agnes Obel

Down to Earth - Peter Gabriel

Shine On You Crazy Diamond I-IV - Pink Floyd

On the Turning Away - Pink Floyd

High Hopes - Pink Floyd

Wish You Were Here - Pink Floyd

Comfortably Numb - Pink Floyd

Take it Back - Pink Floyd

November Rain - Guns n’ Roses

Breathe Me - Sia

They’ll Soon Discover - The Shins

Just a Kid - Wilco

Evenstar - Howard Shore

Just Like Heaven - The Cure

Angela - The Lumineers

Scotland - The Lumineers

Nobody Knows - The Lumineers

Sleep on the Floor - The Lumineers

The Ink from Books - Sleeping at Last

Lightning Crashes - Live

Disarm - The Smashing Pumpkins

Glitter in the Air - P!nk

Silhouette - Aquilo

Water Under the Bridge - Adele

Golden Hour Album - Kygo

Stole the Show - Kygo

Wake Me Up - Avicii

Heaven - Avicii

Hope There’s Someone - Avicii

Fade Into You - Mazzy Star

WITHOUT LYRICS

Flow State (Continuous Mix) - Above & Beyond

Memory Gospel - Moby

Immanuel - Tony Anderson

Define Dancing - Thomas Newman

Haiku/Nemo Egg - Thomas Newman

American Beauty - Thomas Newman

Chasing Ice - J. Ralph

One Day - Hans Zimmer

Thunderbird/The Decision - Hans Zimmer

1917 - Thomas Newman

The Mighty Rio Grande - This Will Destroy You

The Minecraft OST - C418

The World of Goo OST - Kyle Gabler

Tessa - Imagine Dragons

Forbidden Friendship - John Powell

Experience - Ludovico Einaudi

The Aviators - Helen Jane Long

Once There Was A Hush Puppy - Benh Zeitlin

On the Nature of Daylight - Max Richter

The Beginning - Factor 8

End of An Era - Zach Hemsey

I Walk With Ghosts - Scott Buckley

The Chasing Coral OST - Dan Romer

The Luca OST - Dan Romer

Arrival to Earth - Steve Jablonsky

Tower of Joy - Ramin Djawadi

Light of the Seven - Ramin Djawadi

Into a Nighttime Sky - Jeremy Zuckerman

Greatest Change - Jeremy Zuckerman

Your Hand in Mine/Home - Explosions in the Sky

Ori, Lost in the Storm - Gareth Coker

Arrival of the Birds - Cinematic Orchestra

Fireflies - Mychael & Jeff Danna

Across the Stars - John Williams

The Soul OST - Trent Reznor & Atticus Ross

The Queen’s Gambit OST - Carlos Rafael Rivera

#music #study music #writing music #reblog to save a life

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delicatebarness · 3 months

Text

winters widow | chapter ii

Summary: A small gesture of concern from Lord James suggests a possible change in the dynamic.

Warning: Arranged Marriage. Emotional Distress.

Word Count: 1390

Spotify Playlist | Pinterest Board | Support: Ko-FI

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A/N: I was going to post this earlier but everyone asked for Cry Baby so you're getting both. - Please feel free to leave feedback or let me know where and how you want the story to continue, this is just as much yours as mine. - B

Winter’s Widow: @lanabuckybarnes | @sapphirebarnes | @sebastians-love

Everything: @hallecarey1 | @pattiemac1 | @uhmellamoanna | @scraftsku35 | @ozwriterchick

The following days were as cold and unforgiving as the walls of Winter’s Reach. Every morning, you’d wake early, hoping to catch a slight glimpse of Bucky and perhaps try to engage in conversation. He remained elusive, seen only from a distance. His stern demeanor and closed-off nature seemed impenetrable as he trained in the yard or discussed with his men.

Soughting ways to familiarize yourself with your new home, you were determined not to be deterred. The Reach staff had initially been distant, yet they gradually warmed to your kind and gentle nature. Taking it upon yourself to learn the names of the servants, you wanted to understand the daily workings of the House. And, bring a touch of warmth to the cold stone.

Wandering through the dimly lit corridors, one evening, you found yourself drawn to the library. Towering shelves filled with ancient tomes and scrolls in the vast room, a fire crackled in the hearth which cast warm glows over the worn furniture. You marveled at the wealth of knowledge contained within these walls as your fingers ran along the spines of the books.

Lost in thought, you didn’t hear the heavy door open behind you. It wasn’t until a shadow fell across the floor, startling you, that you turned. Bucky stood in the doorway, his expression was hard, annoyance etched in his features.

“My Lord–”

“What are you doing in here?” his sharp tone cut you off as he demanded.

You took a step back, his hostility wasn’t surprising. “I was admiring the collection. It’s a beautiful room.”

His gaze trailed down to your hands as a particular old book lays in them. “This isn’t a tour you're on,” he snapped. “You don’t belong here, meddling with things you don’t understand.”

“I’m sorry,” your voice was soft as you tried to keep it steady. “I didn’t mean to intrude. I thought–”

“You thought wrong,” he interrupted, stepping closer. “This place is filled with history you know nothing about. It is not your place.”

You swallowed hard, trying not to look up at his looming figure. “I’m just trying to understand, connect with you in some way.”

Bucky scoffed, tension evident in his posture. “This isn’t some fairy tale, Lady Romanoff. You’re here because of duty, nothing more, no happily ever after.”

His words cut deep, a dagger twisting in the pit of your stomach. Yet, you refused to back down. “Fairy tales are all I know, Lord James. I know this isn’t one of them. Yet, we’re both here, and we have to make the best of it. I am willing to try, even if you are not.”

For a moment, you could have sworn his expression softened as you finally met his gaze. A flicker of something unreadable passed through his eyes. But his walls built back up just as quickly. “Do what you want,” he said curtly. “But don’t expect any warmth from me.”

The chill that settled in your bones as he turned and left, leaving you standing alone in the library, made the fire suddenly feel insufficient. Sighing, you gently placed the book back on the shelf.

You resolved to continue your efforts to make Winter’s Reach feel like home. Focus on exploring the grounds once more, familiarizing yourself with lands that now surround you, covered in frost and snow.

Walking through the courtyard, you saw Bucky training with his men. His movements, precise and powerful, halted you. They reflected his years of discipline and experience. You admired him, and his skill.

Granting him space, you turned your attention to the stables, where your horse was being kept along with the Reach’s.

The stable master greeted you warmly. “Lady Romanoff, it’s a pleasure to see you here,” he said with a genuine smile weathering his face.

“Thank you,” you replied, returning his smile. “I thought I might get to see Honeybreeze, it could do her good to ride around the Reach.”

The man nodded, gesturing toward your beautiful, chestnut mere. “Here she is, gentle and sure-footed, perfect for riding.”

As you patted Honeybreeze’s neck, the sound of approaching footsteps caught your attention. Another unreadable expression greeted you as you turned, coming face to face with Bucky. He paused when he saw your smaller frame, irritation etched his face in an instant.

“Taking up riding now, are we?” he asked, his tone clipped.

You met his gaze, refusing to let his hostility deter you. “I’ve always rode, my lord. I thought it would be a good way for us both,” you gestured toward your horse, stroking your hand down her mane. “To familiarize ourselves with Winter’s Reach.”

His eyes narrowed, however, they weren’t aimed at you. His gaze moved toward the stable master. “Make sure the lady is properly equipped for her ride,” he ordered the man before turning back to you. “The terrain can be treacherous, especially for outsiders. Be careful.”

“I will,” you replied softly, you tried to keep your voice steady, not to show the pain his words caused. “Thank you for your concern.”

“It’s not concern,” he scoffed, once more. The sound filled the air between you with bitterness. “Just practicality. We don’t need any unnecessary accidents.”

With that, he left you again. The stable master gave you a sympathetic look as he handed you the reins. “Forgive me, my lady,” he said quietly. “But, my lord wasn’t always like this. The war changed him.”

You nodded, “I understand, thank you.”

Mounting Honeybreeze, you guided her out of the stables, making your way toward the open fields surrounding Winter’s Reach. The air was crisp, and the expansive landscapes offered a sense of freedom. A brief moment of peace, away from the tension within Reach’s walls.

Thoughts of your future husband returned to your mind as you rode. Despite his harsh exterior, you couldn’t help but wonder who the man was beneath the black and gold armor.

Hours passed as you explored, and the cold air bit at your cheeks. Finally returning to the stables, dusk had almost settled over Winter’s Reach. Dismounting the horse, you handed her reins back to the waiting stable master. Thanking him, he nodded appreciatively and led your horse away, leaving you standing alone.

Your mind reflected on the day's events as you made your way back toward the Reach. The hostility and bitterness from Bucky had been palpable, but you couldn’t help but feel sympathy for him. It was clear the way had left its mark on him, you wondered what had happened to transform him into the hardened man you were to marry.

As you approached the entrance, you were surprised by Bucky standing there, waiting. His usual stern expression across his face. However, there was a hint of something softer in his eyes.

“Did you enjoy your ride?” his voice gruff.

You nodded, taken aback by his question. “I did, my lord. The land around your home is beautiful.”

Looking away, his jaw tightened. “The Reach has its own kind of beauty,” he admitted.

“I would love to understand more of it,” you spoke softly. “And, to understand my future husband.”

Bucky’s expression hardened again, his gaze meeting yours as a flicker of something else– perhaps vulnerability passed over his eyes. “There’s not much to understand. I’m a soldier, nothing more.”

“I don’t believe that,” you replied gently, offering a small smile. “I think there’s more to you, more than you want to show.”

For a second, he looked as though he might argue. Then, he sighed, his shoulders sagging slightly. “Maybe… if so, it’s buried deep.”

You took a small step closer, daring to place your hand gently on his arm. “I’m willing to find it if you’ll let me.”

He glanced down at your hand on his arm, another unreadable look passed through his eyes. Then, he stepped back, offering you a small nod. “Just… be careful,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I will, my lord,” you promised, watching him walk away. For the first time, you felt like you had hope as you saw a glimpse of the man beneath the armor.

Taking a deep breath, you continued on your way through The Reach, feeling a renewed sense of determination. You silently vowed to break through his defenses and uncover a heart worth loving and understanding.

---

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romaritimeharbor · 6 months

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MORAL INJURY — a non-romance genshin impact series. ♫

act i, chapter ii "motherland."

➤ CHAPTER SYNOPSIS :: it is always cold in snezhnaya.

➤ CONTENT WARNINGS :: implied murder, implied violence/cruelty towards a child, implied kidnapping.

➤ WORD COUNT :: 2.8k.

➤ AUTHOR'S THOUGHTS :: CHAPTER 2 HELL YEAH 🗣🗣🗣🗣 sorry it took forever to publish this, please forgive me moral injury fans 😔🙏 a little note, be sure to click around on the words and symbols that are underlined at the top of this post! the word MORAL INJURY will take you to the series masterlist/navigation post, and the music note will take you to the spotify playlist.

➤ TAGLIST :: @zeldadou, @umgatochamadopercyval, @starryshinyskies, @www-brontide, @pookiebearcave, @lesanyanyas, @francisnyx. contact me through messages/asks/etc non-anonymously to be added.

The Motherland was always cold—that much was a given. It was the northernmost region of Teyvat, after all, always with multiple feet's worth of freshly-fallen snow blanketing the ground in the mornings and subzero temperatures—at the eternal winter's very worst—at night. Snezhnaya was always cold.

Carriage rides across the nation could be... mildly unpleasant for that very reason.

They had some privilege, so they got to sit inside of one rather than walk alongside it or drive it, but they did not have enough prestige to warrant one of the carriages with heaters. Those, very few in stock, were generally reserved for Harbingers.

The thought made them pout a bit. Surely being the direct assistant to one was enough to warrant at least some kind of comfort in their journeys? It wasn't like they were Tartaglia's assistant; that person surely had less privilege than they did. Though... now that they thought about it, that person probably got treated better than they did. Tartaglia was exceedingly more human than Dottore was, after all. Surely he didn't treat his agents like victims-to-be? Though, it was debatable how much of a "victim" he really viewed them as.

(They were once again reminded that they really should have transferred out of the Doctor's division. However, a mentally subhuman assistant was surely suited to a physically and mentally subhuman Harbinger. Perhaps that was why they've survived for as long as they have.)

Their situation was complicated; they would gladly be the first to admit that. Somehow, they were simultaneously the most at risk employee and the least at risk employee.

On one hand, Dottore would not kill them himself unless it was truly necessary. Wounding them? Sure. It happened... sometimes. Not often, but sometimes. It was more common for the younger segments to hurt them somehow (gods, they hoped they didn't run into Lord Beta today; they were far too preoccupied to entertain him). Experimenting on them? That was even less common, but it had happened. In recent years, though, there had not been another such significant incident.

In the past, it may have been worth transferring—they thought that, had their life gone in a different direction, they would have thrived under someone like Pantalone or Pierro, where most of their work would be in an office; boring, but easy—but nowadays, it was better that they didn't give up their position... largely for the sakes of their coworkers.

(Deep down, they knew that in their current state of being, they would be bored to death working under anyone else, but they preferred not to dig too deeply into that frightening truth.

A mind such as theirs was not designed for the menial, mindless work that the lowest ranked agents did—Il Dottore himself had said this to them a multiplicity of times. They don't like to think about it, for under what conditions might Dottore feel the need to say something like that?

...They don't like to think about it.)

Maybe they were just never destined to be Tartaglia's or anyone else's assistant.

It was still cold; their lamenting changed nothing, but they sincerely wished it had. The chill settled in their bones reminded them of their lack of privilege. Maybe if they just gathered up their courage and asked, they would be able to secure a heated carriage...

They couldn't linger too much on those thoughts as their transport pulled to a stop. Absentmindedly, they tugged their coat closer to their body to block out the chill as they were escorted out and into Haeresys.

They nodded in polite acknowledgement to the agents who'd escorted them, wordlessly dismissing them once their task had been completed.

Now, they stood face-to-face with one of their older coworkers. He'd been around for a while. Sometimes they morbidly wondered who between the two of them would die first—someone was bound to.

It probably wouldn't be them, as arrogant as that may have sounded.

"Krupp."

Krupp was a man prone to error. It was a wonder how he'd lived so long, anyway. Could they really be blamed for thinking about such morbid things? It was common for the Second's employees to die or go "missing." It was only natural, then, for them to wonder what would eventually come of Krupp's life. Would he live? Would they live? Even they could admit that it was genuinely anyone's guess.

"[Surname]."

They only stared blankly at him for a moment, before groaning. "Ugh... okay. What did you do this time? Is it something I need to cover up?"

He raised his arms defensively at their blatant accusation. "Nothing this time, I swear."

""This time,' he says. Right. Good that you're self-aware. Well, then..." they prompted, eyebrow twitching in vague annoyance when he didn't get the hint. "What is it? I don't have all day. I have to do routine maintenance on Lord Sixth soon."

"Yeesh, good luck."

"You know, I hope you become Lord Beta's next experiment."

He frowned. "That's not funny, [Surname]."

"...Yeah, okay. You're right. That was kind of... yeah. Sorry," they admitted apologetically, hand raking through their hair habitually. A deep sigh left their lips. "Sorry. I didn't mean that, I've just gotten really desensitized to these things. I'm surprised you haven't. Anyway, what is it that you needed from me?"

"Hmph, fine. Apology accepted." Their eyes were practically about to roll out of their skull at his smugness. He quickly changed topics: "They brought in someone from Sumeru. A girl with Eleazar."

"So I heard. Lord Dottore was muttering to himself about something like that, but I didn't ask."

"Right. Well, she's uncooperative, so they called for you since... you know, the test subjects all seem to like you. You're nice. She's also supposed to transfer under your care after she leaves this place."

"I wouldn't call myself nice, but thanks, I guess," they muttered, peering into the one-sided glass window that displayed the inside of the confined room she was in.

A little girl was in there, cowering in the corner.

A little girl.

That was a child.

Immediately, they tensed up. "How old is she?"

They've seen children be brought into this horrid, ugly part of the world many times before... but their reaction never changed.

"I don't see why that's important. She's going to be taken back to the main lab regardless."

Something in their chest snapped at his nonchalance. The glare they then shot him was one of the sharpest he'd seen in his time—he immediately recoiled, stammering and stumbling over his words. He was fawning. They had seen him do it a few times with other higher-ups, including Lord Beta.

It wasn't as if they were going to tear his throat out. It just annoyed them how vague he was, how nonchalant he was, but perhaps he no longer could tell the difference between mild annoyance and murderous intent.

Understandable, they supposed. The line did tend to blur after a few years under Dottore's employmemt.

"How old is she?" they asked again after taking a deep breath and gathering their composure. This time, their tone came out far more calm and collected than it had before.

It was not his fault. He did not bring her to Haeresys, so there was no point in snapping at him for it.

The shift in their tone seemed to reduce some of the tension in their coworker's shoulders. "Pretty sure she's eight, or around that age, at least."

"Archons above..." They cursed under their breath. "She's so young, what— what the hell is she doing here?"

'Where are her parents?' they wanted to ask, but bit their tongue. Knowing how the Fatui worked... they were probably dead.

In a way, they also knew the answer to why she was here; children were known to recover far faster than adults. They'd observed that phenomenon over and over and over again within the years of their employment. If any test subject ever caused trouble, it was probably someone under the age of twelve or someone who was brought in when they were that young. The older the subjects got, the weaker they grew.

"How should I know?" he scoffed, drawing their drifting attention back to him with a wave directly in front of their face. If it had been anyone else, they might have been annoyed, but they were unfortunately used to his behavior. "I don't know, [Name]. Why would I? You think Lord Beta trusts me like that? I'm not as high-ranked as you are. If anyone would know, it should be you. All I know is that she's going to be under your care."

A deep sigh left through their nose, but the more that they thought about it...

"You said she's an Eleazar patient?"

"Yep. Her scars are bad, too."

"Oh..." They pondered for a moment. "...Hmm. Now that I think about it, I do have an idea about what she's here for." They tapped their fingers on their thigh briefly in a nervous fidget, before sighing once again. "Well? Are you planning on letting me in?"

"Well, since you asked so nicely." Despite his blatant sarcasm, he obliged and fidgeted with the locks for a moment. When they released with a hiss, he backed off, but not before handing them a small medical kit. They took it from him, absently noting that she must have been wounded and refused to be treated. "Go ahead."

"Thanks."

When they stepped in, the door slammed shut behind them. It wasn't unexpected, but it was unsettling nonetheless. They were a bit morbidly grateful that the girl was such a small child; they wouldn't have to fight tooth and nail with her like they had done so many times before with taller and stronger subjects.

Upon their entry, she immediately shuffled impossibly further into the corner, eyes blown wide with terror.

"G— go away! Don't touch me!"

"Hey, hey... shh, it's alright. I won't touch you if that isn't what you want," they soothed, settling on situating themselves on the floor a few feet away from the trembling girl. They offered a kind smile to her.

She sobbed into her hands. "Please leave me alone... get out of here!"

A bit of blood was soaking through her tattered clothes. They stifled a scowl—any negative expression they made would only scare her more, but... Archons above, would it kill their coworkers to be at least a little gentle with her? They made a mental note to... discuss their carelessness with them.

After all, if they hurt her badly enough, she'd die.

That would inconvenience Dottore, so... technically, it was within their area of concern. Surely they couldn't be written up for aggression towards and potential violence against their allies—after all, they would only have been doing their job!

For now, though, they needed to focus on this poor girl and her evident wound.

"Honey, you're bleeding."

"I don't care! Go away!"

"Please let me look. I promise I won't hurt you. I just want to see."

"No, no," she cried, trembling furiously like a leaf in the wind. "Please, please just leave me alone..."

A deep silence settled momentarily, only filled by the girl's weak cries and sniffles. She was the first to break it.

"I don't want to die."

"That won't happen," they reassured. It was... more or less of a lie.

It went quiet again. The girl wordlessly shifted, moving a bit out of the corner. They took that as their sign to approach her. Any movements they made were gentle and purposeful as to not frighten her further or rile her up again.

When they finally got close enough to her, their fingers moved skillfully and quickly, rolling her shirt up just enough to expose the wound on her side. She winced when the cool air hit it.

"Shh, you're okay... what's your name?"

"It's... um— my name is Collei."

They smiled kindly, taking out a small tube of antibacterial ointment from the kit handed to them by their coworker and lathering her cut with it. "Hi, Collei. I'm [Name], okay? I'm going to be responsible for you from here on out."

Now that they were closer to her, they could see the tears glistening in her eyes.

Despite her fear, she nodded. The kindness in their face soothed her. It was as if they were an angel descended from the heavens specifically to protect her. It was so, so impossibly hard not to trust such a compassionate face.

"Okay."

After wrapping her wound in gauze tight enough so that it would not unravel but loose enough to nor cause her any discomfort, they allowed her shirt to fall back into place.

Their hand dared to gingerly reach towards her face; it was not particularly surprising when she flinched back with the smallest, hardly perceptible whimper. Any movement halted. They simply waited to see if she would initiate the contact that they had attempted or if she would continue to reject it.

Then, she slowly—hesitantly—relaxed, some of the tension leaving her body as she leaned forward.

The smile they had offered her remained, it even grew a bit, as their fingers softly brushed some of the hair away from her face. It was perhaps akin to what a parent might do to soothe their frightened child. A hint of melancholia could be seen in their expression, but Collei was quite possibly too young to properly understand the wistful sadness they held.

She did recognize that they were sad in some way. Maybe that was why she was so inclined to trust them—their emotions were tangible.

"I have to leave, alright?" they murmured to her. "Some people are going to come later and take you somewhere else. Please let them. They won't hurt you if you listen, okay? And if they do, you tell me, because they absolutely are not permitted to use unnecessary force."

"An— and I'll see you again?"

"Yeah, of course. I'm very busy, so it might be a few days until you do, but you will. Try to be patient, okay?"

"...Okay."

please consider reblogging, it helps me out quite a lot! written by aphelion & banner by @www-brontide. do not plagiarize, copy, ai train, or otherwise use my work -☆

#✧— aphe's creations.#divider by @/cafekitsune ♡#genshin x reader #platonic genshin x reader #platonic genshin #platonic genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #collei x reader #platonic collei x reader #genshin series

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