#✧ ･ ° ･↣ ❛ i am constantly haunted by someone still alive & by the memories i can’t seem to bury ❜(saved)

[hlysins]

❝ What the hell?! I nearly dropped the treasure! ❞

[hlysins]

Nami turned her attention to him, a smile spreading across her features. Truthfully, she was just passing through. Whilst she was not a dungeon capture, there were plenty of things to steal around the dungeons. ❝ Oh hello! It's quite alright, especially when it comes from a cutie like you! ❞ She responded, waving her hand at him as she spoke. In all honesty, she hadn't made up her mind as to whether or not he was someone she would steal from. ❝ So, tell me. What brings a guy like you to a place like this? ❞

“Oho.” Sinbad spoke up as he observed the young woman before him, she seemed strong, was extremely beautiful…but for some reason he couldn’t help but thought he’s seen her before. Then shook his head, thinking to himself that if he HAS seen her somewhere then it wouldn’t be possible that he’d forget her face. “Hello miss, I’d say it’s a beautiful day but something tells me you’re the type that get statements like that quite a lot.”

liked for a starter / @hlysins​

[requiemsystem]

A few days ago, I was reading someone's stories about DID. They described having alters, or voices in their head (I can't quite remember their exact wording, or even if they said voices; all I remember is I resonated with it and began to wonder if I had OSDD/DID).

I felt like a huge faker immediately. My only real exposure with it had been with the Fake Disorder Cringe comps on YouTube (such shit, god). I realized that every time I'd broken down in suicidal hysteria, attempts, the 9-1-1 phone call, etc., it was an alter. I named her Em, or Emily; it just felt right.

For context, I am in a constant dissociated state from still being stuck in an abusive environment. My memory is not divided in terms of small events and things such as clubs, schools, friendships, etc--rather, it's divided in terms of trauma and pain. January was specific. My week at the hospital was specific. February and March are specific. End of March, April, May, June, are specific.

I can recall the feelings of depression and suicidality in the months before Mid June to Now, but Mid June to Now was marked by anorexia and recovery, etc. There are no other memories than anorexia/things related to it, and my abusive friendship which triggered the eating disorder. There was also a suicide attempt (three, but I don't count two. Why don't I count two? Because they are hanging attempts, and I have tried to hang myself so many times that they do not count in my brain. Asshole shit, I know)

But you see, I cannot remember other things unless I dig deep in my brain or look at photos from that time.

Another thing is, I have only been able to piece together a timeline of my trauma and memories from the very huge fixations (which kept me alive; magical thinking) I was obsessed with at the time, and also random ass conversations I remembered. There are only two to five of these conversations--and in (nearly) all of them I am watching myself from afar, like in a movie. Other times, a traumatic memory will pop up and I'll force an age out. Ten, eleven, twelve; the memories from when I was a preteen are so fucking mixed up and weird. I only remember the trauma, not what happened elsewhere.

I do have some other memories of events which I thought about a lot, but if I hadn't constantly thought about those at the time they would've disposed of themselves. Things do that now, I have no capacity to ruminate as I used to so they slip away silently into the void.

Honestly, nothing feels real; I am always watching myself from afar, and things are wishy-washy, blurry, and other people are floaty. Even the feeling of lust, which is very prominent for those my age, seems horribly muted and dissolved into a weak "meh" most of the time. People around me talk about this and that, etc etc, but the only time it was ever really prominent was when I was younger and punished myself with extreme feelings of guilt over it, or when I decided to starve myself of it and then use it to cope during Late March to June. I do think that it is more muted from psychological religious abuse about how I was a horrible dirty person because of it definitely muted it to ten percent of those like my peers, but there's not much I can do about it other than shrug.

My memory is basically that of a traumatized Wattpad OC. I am the equivalent of a twelve year old's angsty emotions coming out through a character (I was that twelve year old once, believe me the hell I put my characters through was...yikes) and goddamn it is nothing like the movies. It's always been painful, sharp, like reopening a painful scar; nothing like the tragically pretty depressed skinny girlypop with white skin and haunting blue eyes, so I never thought I could be depressed until I was like yeah shit I actively want to kill myself ://

I wish I could describe it better, but the one word that sticks in my mind is floaty, senseless, blurry, wishy-washy, soapy, etc. I don't have the vocabulary and trauma knowledge now to fully realize my own state, nor do I have the capability to realize how painful the memories are. To do that, I would need a permanently safe space to process them; and you can't really do that while hiding your every move and thought from your mother who merely views you as an identical doll who is an extension of her.

There are a few years until I'll be able to escape, and I'm also coping with the fact that the city I built up in my head (Seattle) has been exposed as it truly is with the case of a police offer murdering an immigrant woman from my country.

I still don't know what to do with these feelings; I want to scream and rip out my guts but I am too dissociated now to truly feel it. This is where Em comes in, she holds all of the pain and memories and raw knowledge of what I'm going through so I can function throughout the day.

I used to think of her as a voice in my head, the suicidal one. The one who would spam me with relentless thoughts of "I don't want to live anymore I want to die get me out of here I hate them I hate this I can't do this anymore life sucks please kill me please please please," and her feelings are so horribly overwhelming the only solution is to shove her shards back into my chest and dissociate again.

I think Em is the only one aware of the true horrors of my life. Usually, when I tell people things, they gasp and recoil in shock; avoiding me afterwards actually.

She is 5-7 years old--a child. She is eternally stuck in 2014-2015, and will absolutely fucking flip if you try to bring her into another year. I think this is because this is the age when the horrifying suicidal thoughts and internalized racism, facial dysmorphia started.

Last night I was trying to process one of my very first traumatic incidents (I was found watching videos of people vomiting at four years old. I was beaten mercilessly while screaming, crying, and begging to stop. These videos were allowed by my mother (the one who beat me) and she even joked about letting me watch them. I am not sure why she flipped out here; I think it's because she clicked on a video herself and disliked it immensely) and I decided to bring Em out. This incident happened in 2012-2013, and she screamed.

It felt as if someone was stabbing dull knives into my chest and stomach, and I could hear her sobs coming from inside me. She begged me so much, please don't make me go back, that's too far, I want 2014 not 2012, this hurts please; so I stopped focusing on the memory and instead tried to fall asleep (it was nighttime).

I'm not a very verbal person; I get teased because of my american accent, so I try not to speak as much as I can. But while Em was there, she made a noise; not even a word, just a noise of torture, and I could tell it was torturous and cruel to make her suffer like that. There is a reason why traumatic memories are distant and tethered off in my head, and forcing her to relive the shit that is a core part of her identity was obviously very stressful.

Whenever something reminds me of the trauma (yesterday it was a video talking about a father regretting not giving his car to his son, prompting me to remember my dreams about getting my license and my dad teaching me to drive--then, when he saw me for the person I truly was, telling me that he'd never even let me borrow his car to learn driving on and I'd never get my license unless it was on my own terms) she comes out--even right now I felt her stabbing through my chest, apparently just describing the trauma (which was a conversation from some of the most traumatic and emotionally terrorizing few weeks) prompts her to come out. I often forcefully shove her down, returning back to my state of dissociation, because (due to my environment) it isn't safe to have someone as vulnerable as Em out and there. She absorbs trauma like a sponge; any minor thing said to her will cause painful suicidal ideation. She told me, "you don't know what it's like holding all of these things in, [my name]. i have to keep everything in a nice little bag for you, [while you do nothing]." The last part in brackets wasn't said outloud to me, but certainly understood. She knows everything I do, even the fact that I'm writing this right now and use her as a dump for any and all unpleasant feelings, and obviously doesn't like it (who would?).

Unrelated to her, I've always thought I had different voices in my head, and thought I was a "quirky weirdo" for that. I've only now realized that most people don't have two to three separate chains of reason in their head which argue with each other, take hold of my brain, then leave once their job is done.

I suspect I have another alter, I always called them Caroline because during periods of extreme stress and fear they'd tell me exactly what I needed to do to avoid punishment and abuse. They'd help me check for bloody tissues (sh) and tell me how to hide them; advise me on when to wash my hands after cleaning up; invent lies for me; and even help internally defend me against people who hurt me. They'd leave as quickly as they came, but it was always like a special, energy-filled person was there who knew exactly what to do. Even now, they will talk to me.

And they don't even really come out in periods of deep distress either--a lot of times, they will just randomly come in and..."take over me," I guess, because I will act incredibly different and usually when I am back to my "normal" self I will realize that I was incredibly different right then.

I've been struggling so much with denial and feelings of inadequacy and self-hatred, guilt, etc etc etc feeling of being invalid and faking it.

What do you think this could be? I was thinking of maybe OSDD-1 (B) but I just really need to hear a third party's thoughts. I posted this on my main blog too, but yeah.

i want to tell you that i took several days to think of how to reply to this, i still am not sure what the best response will be i cannot tell you if you have OSDD or not. i am not qualified to diagnose you. if you are looking for someone to tell you "yes, this sounds like OSDD and you are a system", then im not that person. what i will say is that what you are describing sounds incredibly difficult to navigate and i am sorry you are experiencing this i will also say, as someone who deals with a lot of denial, faking is a conscious decision. if you did not consciously choose to fake a disorder, you are not faking it. it is possible to be wrong and mistaken, but thats very different from intentional faking if you havent already, maybe try making some form of contact with these suspected alters and see if they reach out. thats where we started, and just talking to eachother was helpful in figuring things out i wish you luck, and if you have any further questions, feel free to send more asks or DM us! - grey

[artknifeandglue]

as shattered stars shine: DVD Commentary (part 2/12)

stopping at chapter 2 for today!

Discharge paperwork takes fucking forever to fill out, what with billing and insurance claims and unique forms of bureaucratic torment that the Devil himself must have developed on a slow day in Hell.

I am not American, and I love my country’s healthcare system, but sadly I imagine the paperwork involved in a hospital admission must be much the same everywhere.

“Next time,” he informs Harry, “try to get shot in a country where healthcare is cheaper.”

“Duly noted,” Harry answers calmly, unruffled by Merlin’s prickly demeanour, “though I’d assumed you would want me to not be shot at all.”

Merlin’s scowl only deepens. “Never stopped you, did it?”

Merlin is Done With This Man. Thirty years of dealing with Harry Hart’s bullshit will probably do that to someone.

He’s read the reports and seen the same story played out the world over: the mass casualties flooding into emergency rooms from all directions, all bearing grotesque injuries from Valentine’s attempt to recreate The Purge; patients upon patients spilling out into the hallways where hurriedly parked beds sit pushed up against the walls in an attempt to make space where there is already horrifyingly little, the wards at full capacity and then some; hundreds and thousands of bodies littering the land and gradually finding their way into mortuaries and funeral homes and crematoria alongside the onslaught of hospital deaths, coroners and morticians and public servants vainly trying to empty the constantly full fridges by tracking down identities and next-of-kin and contact details to arrange burials or cremations or something; memorials for the dead and dying amidst the spiralling numbers of both, barely making a dent in the mounting lists of names to be printed in ink or carved on stone.

None of which they would have found for Harry, because the same Kingsman that leaves its dead agents where they lie also covers its tracks well. Eggsy grits his teeth and keeps walking, keeps putting one foot in front of the other, stares straight ahead at the cheerful green sign pointing him towards the hospital entrance. Harry’s fine. Harry’s alive.

But he wasn’t, a small voice whispers in the back of Eggsy’s mind, the one that refuses to let go of the haunting image of an unclaimed, unknown body in an ocean of empty eyes and empty faces, cold and still and lost, soon to disappear into the earth or the sea. Eggsy shoves it to the back of his mind as he keeps walking, step after step until the sterile white lighting of the hospital gives way to sunlight that blazes down on him, an experience not unlike stepping out into the fires of hell.

Once again, the sun is not exempt from the “stars are not to be trusted” principle. Featured here also is Eggsy’s unwillingness to let Harry disappear among the innumerable dead in V-Day – too much emotional attachment to let that happen, and the only reason it did was that he couldn’t do anything about it.

He pauses, eyes scanning the shelves for a moment before he pulls a bottle of scotch from the second shelf and studies it carefully. Other than maybe two or three drinks’ worth missing, the bottle is still mostly full. “Someone’s pilfered my whisky,” Harry notes.

“That would be me,” Merlin answers from behind them, and Eggsy turns to see Merlin stepping out from behind the cockpit door. “In my defence, it seemed like fair game at the time. We did think you were dead for a while.”

“Evidently I am not, and so this is once again off-limits to you,” Harry returns smoothly, reaching for a glass and pouring a drink. Probably not for himself, Eggsy thinks.

“Ingrate,” Merlin jibes as he joins them at the bar, leaning against the counter. “I flew all the way out here to fish you out of that awful hospital, and you repay me by denying me good scotch. Bloody Galahads.”

“Oy, fuck off,” Eggsy protests. “What’re you coming at me for?”

“You have a particular talent for doing everything you shouldn’t be doing. Also, your taste in music is disgraceful.”

Manly bonding session through giving each other a hard time. Also, I think Eggsy and Merlin would actively try and get on one another’s nerves by hijacking each other’s Spotify playlists or Bluetooth speakers.

Well, since. Percival installed a fish tank in his office last month; Bors has got a new car, a sleek Aston Martin that looks amazing and handles like a dream, and no one is allowed anywhere within a hundred metres of that beauty; Ector surfaced two weeks after V-Day by stomping into the shop delirious and covered in mud and snow and blood, loudly demanding to know if anyone had bothered to water the succulents in his office (“So did anyone?” “Merlin didn’t even know he liked plants, bruv. The lot of ‘em died.”); Roxy’s got a second dog because the vet said Lady Audrey was lonely, and Lady Evie is an absolute chaos gremlin of a dog with a fondness for stealing Eggsy’s shoes and hiding them every time he stops by Roxy’s place.

Yes, that Aston Martin, the James Bond car. Hugh Grant is Ector. Lady Evie is an English Cocker Spaniel. I will not be taking questions.

“Holy shit,” Eggsy blurts out, “you’re real.”

“Of course I am.” The man from that strange dream raises an eyebrow at him. “Would you mind sitting back down? You’ll ruin the armrest.”

Eggsy just stares. “How the fuck—”

“—am I here? So predictable,” the man drawls. “Powers beyond your understanding, Eggsy Unwin. Same way I brought him—” he gestures in the direction of the bathroom where Harry is, “—back when you asked. Really, I’m a little insulted. I pull a whole human life out of the clutches of Death, and you think I can’t get onto a plane?”

If you haven’t read Goethe’s Faust, I highly recommend reading it just to encounter sassy Mephistopheles. Goethe’s character is very much the inspiration for Mephistopheles in this: mildly amused by humanity, always ready with a witty comment, endearing and offputting at the same time.

Instead, Eggsy closes his eyes and leans back in his seat, focusing on Harry’s presence opposite him, living and breathing. Harry Hart is alive, and that is enough.

That will always be enough.

One of the motifs of this fic, but also one of the core tenets: they’ll fight death because what matters most is being able to be with one another in this life, here and now, and separation is unthinkable for both of them.

Harry’s changed too, just a little. Medical predictably refuses to clear him for fieldwork until they can investigate the long-term impact of the gunshot wound, but it isn’t the crippling

bolt-from-the-blue headaches that has them in a whirlwind of activity. Instead, an offhand comment Harry makes during a walk in the garden sends everyone scrambling when he asks Merlin, “Were there always this many butterflies?” only for Merlin to glance out at a completely empty field and immediately summon every neuropsychiatrist in Kingsman’s employ.

Ha. We still get the butterflies! Much as I think we give the second movie a hard time, I liked the idea that Harry can deal with the visual hallucinations and still be a perfectly competent spy. Plus, it gives me an opening to have Mephistopheles start popping up around Harry quite a bit without raising alarm bells for Eggsy, because Harry spends a good chunk of time believing Mephisto is a hallucination too.

“Just here to see how you’re holding up. Satisfied with our bargain?”

“Yeah, about that.” Eggsy jabs a thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the door. “You said you weren’t going to cheat. What’re you playing at with the butterflies?”

“What exactly do you think it is that I do?” The arched eyebrow and folded arms only make the visitor look even more supercilious than before. Eggsy hadn’t known that was possible. “There’s only so much I can do when someone gets shot in the head, you know. You’re lucky I even got his eye back.”

And on that note, were the butterflies intentional sabotage on Mephistopheles’ part? Initially, I was going to write them that way, but then I figured Mephistopheles could read them both well enough to know how to make Harry sell his soul too. They say the Devil is an excellent salesman, and there’s already enough in Harry to manipulate/tap on without having to add something to it. Plus, the idea that even the Devil can’t do everything is fun, so I suppose this is a completely harmless form of the “came back wrong” trope.

In the end, for all the grand gestures Eggsy can think of, the truth slips out in the middle of not very much at all. It happens on the most unremarkable of Wednesday afternoons, after Eggsy has again made himself comfortable in Harry’s office all day to while away the rest of his mandatory downtime.

Up to this point, Eggsy’s love for Harry has been (to his knowledge, at least) unrequited, and he hasn’t exactly had any signs that his affections are reciprocated. In light of this, an accidental confession seems to be the right way to get them both moving. Also, I recognise one of the issues that comes up in a relationship with a large age gap (despite them both being consenting adults) is power distribution and the power dynamic, and I attempt to tackle some of that in Harry’s segment, so I’ll reserve the commentary for then. Then again, I suppose if you’ve read an entire Hartwin fic, you’re already on board with the ship and I’m preaching to the choir here, haha.

The momentary break in eye contact is enough to jolt the rest of his body into action, and his feet start carrying him towards the door, towards the most sensible path of escape.

“Eggsy.” Wood creaks. Arthur’s chair, Eggsy thinks. Harry’s gotten up. “Eggsy, wait.”

Five strides more to the door handle. The thundering of his heartbeat is all Eggsy can hear.

Man’s flight reflex kicked in lol

“Not saying anything without a lawyer,” Eggsy jokes weakly, and Harry sighs.

“Please stop talking.” Then Harry’s lips are on his, and Eggsy understands.Yay! This line will come back to bite everyone, starting with me. This I think was the first instance of a phrase as motif that I wrote, and it stays in because I like it.

[juniperberries-canisroot]

MORTAL SANCTUARY

Summary: The one year 'anniversary' of Astrid's betrayal weighs heavy on the guilty conscience of Listener and Matron, Chantilly Leice.

Content warnings: Paranoia, regret, betrayal & guilt. Canon events, violence and death. First person PoV.

Context: I know Arnbjorn is scripted to die in game. In my story CL arrives just in time to save him. Everyone else dies thou.

Fun fact there is actually in game a NightShade plant by the escape tower. It's inside Solitide by the gate of the tower if you were using it to go outside. It's near the food stalls.

@tes-summer-fest

"You're part of the Family, after all. This, as you can see, is our Sanctuary. You won't find a safer place in all of Skyrim."

"Our Family, my dearest. Our Family."

Eight years. Eight years ago you told me that after I was recruited into the Dark BrotherHood. Family, safety. For seven years I was part of your 'family'. For seven years I did as you told. I served, and I killed, and I was part of your family. In some strange twisted way, you became the closest thing I ever had to a mother figure in my life.

But just like the people who were supposed to be my parents, you sold me off. A year ago you betrayed me. You saw me as a threat to your authority, your leadership. Years of loyalty meant nothing to you. I was nothing more than leverage in the end. And I still wasn't enough. My one purpose to you, my one final use, and I failed that as well.

I couldn't save them all. I couldn't save your family. I barely had enough time to protect the ones that survived. I am forever grateful for the ones who did, but I am forever haunted by the memories I have of those who didn't. The memories I have of them are tainted, thanks to you. I lost them. They're dead. It's my fault they died.

Do you know NightShade grows in areas associated with death? Areas where dead bodies lie. Places where someone was killed. Caves and homes that undead vampires inhabit. The exit tower you told me to take after poisoning the fake Emperor.

Some grow outside both Sanctuaries. There were always a few outside the Falkreath Sanctuary, even years before that day. Now, there's five more plants. Festus Krex. Gabriella. Veezara. Lis. You.

They others are doing well. Arnbjorn, Nazir, Babette, Cicero. There's been three new recruits since then.

I'm not doing well.

When I see a flash of black and red, my blood runs cold. Fear pumps through my veins faster than any drug could take affect. I instinctively reach for a dagger and search for a shadowy corner to drag them off to and slice their throat out. It's usually not a Penitus Oculatus agent, but there have been the rare times it was. Too many times for my comfort. What a sick irony that the BrotherHood and Oculatus uniforms share a similar colour scheme.

I'm constantly terrified that I'll loose them. That I'll come back to the DawnStar Sanctuary one day to find it ablaze, or that I will arrive far after the embers have died down, and find their charred corpses. That once again I will be too late to save someone.

They are the closest thing I have to a family, and I'm terrified at the thought of that. I'm terrified that if I say it aloud, if I think about it too much, they'll die. They'll be killed. And it will be all my fault again.

You were an idiot thinking you could go against somethin more powerful than you. I was a fool thinking I could allow myself to have a family.

Now I carry the Blade. I'm the Matron and Listener. Maybe it was supposed to be this way. I knew for years the way you ran the Sanctuary was wrong. Abandoning the Tenets, disregarding the Night Mother's authority. My authority, as Listener.

But what I wouldn't give for everyone to alive today. Arnbjorn said the others were already dead by the time I arrived. But that doesn't prevent me from thinking what could have been. If I was just a little faster, if I left a bit sooner.

I'll never have a family again. I can't allow myself to have a family, to cars for someone, anyone, like that again. Not after what happened that day. Not after you.

I hope you're happy with your decisions. I know I'm not with mine.

[aesrot]

an ode to the ghost of my friends

something about out of sight, out of mind, regardless of consent. i feel guilty for not thinking about you as much as i think i should, for always forgetting to send a text, but i know you have a hard time with it just as much as i do. and yet. it's a shame it ended up like this, like we're distant memories of each other, someone we shared so much of ourselves with, someone we linked our souls with, now nothing but a lost piece of our past.

its funny, isn't it, that our brains might forget but our hearts don't. i don't think of you, but i'm constantly missing you. your absence left gaps in me, i'm missing parts of myself that were yours, and i wonder if you miss what i once gave you, of what you were because of me. we live with the ghosts of ourselves, haunting the vacant spaces of our lives, that version of us only existing in our faded memories, for we are them no longer. and yet. despite my unawareness, i reach out for someone who's not there, i sense the emptiness left by something i cant name, and life feels odd, aloof, like a puzzle with a missing piece, irreplaceable but ephemeral.

you left, and i left, and the only thing remaining is the unintentional frigidity. i don't have your gaze to search for when i laugh anymore, no one knows what i'm feeling with just a quick glance like you did, there's no more late night calls, no more muffled laughs in the silence of our rooms, no more cheap drinks on the sidewalk, no more playful bickering, no more dancing in the rain, no more borrowed jackets, no more whispered references that made sense only to ourselves, no more tea shared in those cold early mornings. that place you used to buy lukewarm coffee for the both of us everyday closed, and we never got to try that pastry. i wonder if your parents ask you about me like mine ask me about you. i never finished played that game, our shared minecraft world still sits untouched, and i never trusted anyone like i trusted you again, not after we both saved each others life, quite literally, a couple times, vulnerable and weak like we've never been before.

what i am today is because of you, and it's a shame i can't share my metamorphosis with you any longer. we know, from what we've been told, we're both alive and doing as well as we can. and yet. our dms are barren, both too distant and awkward to attempt to reach out, we know each others addresses but despite how often we'd visit, it'd be weird to come over like we used to. i hope life is treating you well, i hope i can be part of it again someday, and i loved you, i still do, and i always will, despite the ever growing distance that makes us strangers.

[templebet]

i constantly compare my heartbreak to grief

and i fear myself insensitive for it

i never experienced the loss of a loved one

so i can't claim to know that pain

but i can see my own reflected in the stories they tell

the poems they write

the anger that radiates off them

i find myself in their tales

and i take their advice as my own

and when nothing else can rebuild me,

it's only when i allow myself to treat what i feel like grief that i am able to breathe

im told the worst part of grief

if watching the world move on

without your loved one

hearing as their name is mentioned less and less

the tragic thing is

when someone dies

their name is mentioned less and less over time, this is true

but when they are brought up it is with love and light, fondness and nostalgia

no one talks about you like this anymore

i can only keep your name alive

by telling all the worst stories

for people are already growing tired of those, they certainly would not take well to the remembrance of the good

so i have to hold it all in my head

have to supress the feeling of your arms around me,

ignore the memories of laughter in smoke filled cars

pretend i never chased you around the springs, kissing you everytime we came up for air

forget the mornings waking up first and watching you sleep

cover the memory of your joy and love filled eyes

hide the absolute ecstasy i felt when you finally found your passion for life

i know it was bad

it was awful

i cant stop hearing your words on repeat

i can't ever forgive you

but god i hate that that means i have to grieve you, everyday

no funeral to attend

no eulogy to give

the ghost of you still haunting the dorm

haunting my dreams

haunting me

[kimmberleeex]

is it possible to grieve someone that’s still alive?

because you’re alive and well, but you’re so far away you’re untouchable. your presence in my life is haunting me. constantly being reminded of our memories. what would i do to look into your eyes again? what wouldn’t i sacrifice to feel your warm embrace again? what wouldn’t i sell to be able to call you mine? life isn’t fair. i feel like i was standing on the edge of this tower that we built and just like that, it was all ripped away beneath me when you left. and here i am, trying to pick up the pieces alone while missing you to the deepest of my core. and now i know, there’s no real possibility you’re ever going to come back home. and i just feel like i’m frozen. i don’t know how to move on. i don’t even think i want to. i just want you to come home. i will never be ok.

[byakugoseal]

tag dump: broken & updated tags part ii

[hlysins]

How long had it been? Surely Nami's eyes were deceiving her. She knew this couldn't be true that her mother was standing before her. She had had this dream so many times before, a secret wish she kept close to her heart — their little family got to live in peace outside the reaches of Arlong. At the same time, she always feared to know what her mother would think of the woman she had become and the things she had done over the years. She always did her best to trick herself into believing that everything she had done up until now was for Cocoyashi and those she considered family though deep down, she knew that part of it was out of fear.

❝ Bell-mère— ❞ The name fell from her lips just barely a whisper, as if saying it aloud would somehow break the spell and bring her back to her cruel reality. Her brow furrowed with the weight of her confusion and far too many emotions to bear at once. It was hard for her to conceal her emotions and feign that everything was fine when it clearly wasn't.

After a moment, she found herself shaking her head. ❝ Nice try, but if you want to try and get one past me, you'll have to try a lot better than that. ❞ She stated, arms folding over her chest and her words accompanied by a tsk. It was easier to harden herself in moments like this rather than succumbing to her own emotions. At least, that was how she saw the world up until meeting the Straw Hats. They had certainly changed her outlook on the world. But what would her mother think of her knowing that she had become a pirate, and what would she think when she learned of her allegiance to Arlong? The questions raced through her mind, and as much as she wanted to learn the answers to them, she was afraid to seek them.

❝ You're another one of those freaks with devil fruit powers, right? ❞ She inquired, an accusatory finger pointing at the other. She had seen them enough to know that Luffy wasn't the only one out there. She wasn't about to let herself fall victim to such a trick. ❝ There's no way you're her because if you were, you would be angry to see who I am hanging out with! ❞ In a way, she hoped that her mother was standing before her just so she could find some semblance of normalcy in her turbulent life. Had she done right by her?

@goreburdened

[thenightmareofyourdrems]

              ˜”*°•.      Something  triggering …  Eyebrows furrowed .  The  racing   thoughts  only  growing faster .   He wanted  to  believe that  Scott  meant it  well ,  that the  implication  had been  a  part of  his  imagination . He  wanted  to join  the  FBI indeed  -  and as  much  as  anxiety  might’ve haunted  him   ever   since the  day  he was  born ,  he believed  he’d  proven to  them  that  he  could  handle  his emotions ,  handle  this town ,  handle  everything .   ❝ Look ,  we’ve  been through  hell ,  I  can’t  deny that .  But  do you  really  think I  wouldn’t  want to  return  ? ❞  His father  lived  there , his  house  was there,  his  school, his  memories .  Beacon Hills  was  the place ,  where  he’d met  Scott, Lydia,  Malia , everyone .  The  place , where  they’d  desperately tried  to  balance studies  and  heroism . The  place ,  where his  love  for  crime-solving  had  been  born . So ,  indeed ,  Beacon Hills  was  not an  easy  town to  live  in , it  was  still a  part  of  him ,  though .  But then ,  it  echoed . The  word  grief echoed,  and  he felt  his  stomach turning  a  hundred of  times .  Allison . Aidan .  Only  examples of  the  blood tainting  his  hands . That  haunting  thought following  him  ever since  the  incident  suddenly returning  hostile ,  merciless ; had  Scott  ever blamed  him  for that   ?  Had he  spent  even a  single  second thinking  it  was  his  fault  ?  

At  the other’s  question ,  he  wanted  to simply  scream .  Was he  serious  ?  Had there  ever  been  a  single moment ,  when  he hadn’t  wanted  to be  present  ?  They’d been  best  friends , brothers ,  for  longer than  he  could   even   remember . Then  why  were  they suddenly arguing  more  than ever   before  ? He  didn’t  answer . He  didn’t  answer for  if  he  opened  his  mouth ,  he feared  he  would  make  it  worse.  He wanted  to  be   present ,  he  wanted to  be  there to  support  him , but  at  the same  time ,  he was  tired  of  being  afraid .   I am  not  giving up  on  you . ❝ Well ,  no  matter what  I  say,   it’s  going to  be  wrong , right  ?  ❞  he  was trying  to  talk to  him  already .  He was  trying  to make  him  understand , see  that  he  was  scared of  losing  him . But  he  couldn’t say  it ,  couldn’t  bring himself  to  use the  right  words to  say  it .  And  yet,   if  Scott  really wanted   to  see what  was  going on  inside  his  mind ,  he could  only   show him  ,  right  ?   last year  of  highschool perhaps  adding  insult to  injury ,  but  there  was more  to  it .  More  to his  fear.    ❝ Do  you ever  regret  it ?  ❞  Voice  hesitant , quiet ,  but  at  the  same time ,  demanding .  Question long  buried ,  yet long  torturing  his mind  .  ❝ The fact  she  is not  here ,  but I  am  ?  ❞ The  fact  that if  they’d  heard Kira’s  mother ,  Allison would  be  alive ?  Possibly more  supportive  too ?    

Jealousy .  Was  it jealousy ,  though  ?  Scott talking  with  Theo … didn’t  he  have the  right  to talk  with  anyone he  wanted  ?  It’d been   a  tango they’d  danced  so  many  times  already ;  Scott trusting  someone  suspicious , them  arguing  over whether  they  deserved a  chance.  .  ❝ Look ,  I  am not  saying  you can’t  hang  out  with  people , who  are  not  me .  ❞  It’d have  been  unfair , wrong .  It’d  have been  everything  that Scott  didn’t  deserve .  It was  not  like  they were  married  for God’s  sake .  What’s  going  on  ? Oh  how  he wished  he  knew . ❝ I  don’t know .  I  really  don’t  what’s  happening . ❞ he  didn’t  know why  he  was constantly  angry ,  anxious . He  didn’t   know why  his  mind wouldn’t  leave  him alone .  He  didn’t know  why  he was  spending  every  single  day of  his  senior year  feeling  like his  heart  was about   to  explode .  ❝ But  I just  wish  it would  stop . ❞  

Good intentions of his lips didn't reached the desired results. Of course, it wasn't the first time they came each other to have that kind of conversation ! Wasn't the first neither their pack suffered crisis, for sometimes, during some moments of the year, depending of circumstances, they survived more than one crisis in a couple of weeks ! He survived all of them before, why wouldn't them surviving that one ? Nevertheless, distance was last thing he needed. Distance was last thing each one of them needed. Gratefully, his words didn't recalled current circumstances : murders, Dreads Doctors crazy experiments, another danger in the shadows … Their last school year would be troublesome. In all cases, personally, weight of responsabilities would burdened his body concerning Liam's future : because, when he will be gone, when he will have to go to college, he would have to be assured he could handling circumstances. Turmoil would be big when he had that consciousness about how many hours of study he would have to do, meanwhile found time to see rest of his pack and take news --- How even handle an discrete fight, because, even away of Beacon Hills, supernatural events could be everywhere, other packs could be everywhere and he would have to deal with all of that. Sometimes, he blamed himself mentally to be an passing presence inside people's life. He cannot remain behind their back all the time, be so much part of their existence … He was doing his best.

For one second, he sensed an silenced ache inside his chest. Did he blamed him to study ? Did he blamed him to pretend normality when he could ? After all, as much Stiles expressed his feelings naturally, mostly with playfulness, he noticed how his expression turned … somber … less joyful than usual … wrapped inside that ocean of anxiety he wished to appease. How overwhelming it was for him was never forgotten. Nevertheless, his words, his sentences holding no particular power. From his mouth, it can be fragile explanations, fast justifications … and this fragility could generate misinterpretations. One question remained unsaid --- how much Stiles personally worked for enter inside the FBI. If he would manage to cope with these traumatic spheres, to be accepted without problems, to emotionally handle the distance … How many support he would have to avoid reliving traumatic events he experienced in Beacon Hills ? Contradict feelings passed though his eyes. Hesitation trembled inside his lips. ❝ On your side, you want to be part of the FBI, right ? Part of me is scared that you lack emotional support. That I cannot be here where I should be here if something triggering all the terrible things we suffered in this town … I know, I know how Beacon Hills had become to you. I want still to protect this town, no matter how many grief it's brought to me … but I'm afraid … you will never want to come back once you will be away of memories of that place. I don't want regrets between us. Unsaid things remaining unsaid and it's create hurt between us in consequence … ❞

One year was honestly … nothing. Not enough time for appreciate each other presence. Not enough time for accepting how paths would diverging one more. Though, an mixture of hurt and frustration passed though his hands, as he put one of his face, towards that confirmation need. If he wasn't wanted to be present, they weren't going to have that conversation in first place ! Soon enough, as he desired keep a eye on him, he noticed how distracted his gaze had been. Assumption he might not have enough time for him still lingering in the pain, nevertheless, managed to understood what was the point of his best friend to accusing him ! ❝ I am. Do you want to be much as present that I am, Stiles ? ❞ He expressed as he removed his hands, forcing his voice not to raise regardless temptation of such thing. ❝ I can't help you if you don't … talk … with me. Tell me exactly what you have inside your mind. If you are the one distance yourself because you're scared --- of yourself, to losing more that we have … I'm not give up to you. ❞ If he wanted argue it was his werewolf scent that sensed it, right, he could take it. He cared about his best friend. Cared enough for be a long-term emotional support. He let out another frustrated sigh. ❝ What the point ? ❞ Comments over which person he was passing time with was possibly last subject he wanted to bring on. Mentally, he had still Liam would troubled his mind. He transformed his entire life without return, and have to be certain he could handle everything --- in same manner Derek had acted as a mentor concerning his powers and how to control himself, how becoming what he had becoming. ❝ You're seems annoyed I can talk with someone else than you. I thought I passed rumination of the century where I screwed up with Liam … It's a old friend. Doesn't change I have time for you. ❞ He noticed with another frustrated sound, before remained shocked by his last words. ❝ You don't distract me. No, I'm not gonna to pretend none of our conversation happened. ❞ Ah, he loathed being straightaway. ❝ We don't have to say goodbye. We don't have to put distance. As your best friend, I want all of us to be together, caring for everyone. What going on, Stiles ? Why do you think you will be left down ? Why do you think I will left you down ? ❞

[firstslashed]

@deceited​​ dialed her number: 

⟶ BASED ON IF I’M JAMES DEAN THEN YOU’RE AUDREY HEPBURN BY SLEEPING WITH SIRENS

It had been weighing on her mind for some time now, though there was part of her that suspected she already knew the answer. She had been staring at him for quite some time before her lips finally parted with the anticipation of speech. ❝ How the hell did you ever pick me? ❞ The question was not asked with anything other than genuine curiosity, her chin soon resting in the palm of her hand. She wasn’t entirely sure what compelled to her to ask this now after all these months, but it was something that she felt she needed to know. 

❝ How the hell did we end up like this? ❞ Another question born from a place of curiosity. And with this question her head tilted to the side ever so slightly as her hand fell gently into her lap. ❝ Please answer honestly. ❞ She added after a moment, though to an extent, she suspected he was always honest with her. Albeit she knew there surely had to be times in which he had kept some parts of the truth from her. 

[xifomachos]

tag dump: verses

[tired-truffle]

Můj Miláček

A Viktorxfem!reader fic

Chapter Word Count: 4.3K

Part 7/16

"I am awful. I am heartless. I am scared that these things are actually true." - John Green and David Leviathan

Masterlist

As the months flew by, time seemed to slow down within the walls of the Academy. You found solace in your room, a cozy space that had quickly built up an impressive collection of scattered books - some from the library, and others loaned by your friends. The halls of the academy had become familiar to you now, and you could navigate them with ease. After showing up too early to the lab on multiple occasions, they even entrusted you with a key to the lab, a symbol of trust and inclusion that

Frequently, you would walk with Sky to get meals, her bubbly personality and contagious laughter made the streets of Piltover feel like home. She would often offer to take you on other errands around the city, showing you all that this magnificent place had to offer. The stunning architecture and extravagant outfits worn by its inhabitants never failed to amaze you and give you and Sky something to giggle about. You cherished your friendship with her, and it wasn’t like you weren't sharing your deepest darkest secrets, but the companionship of another girl when you were almost constantly surrounded by men was not something you were taking for granted.

While Jayce and Viktor were wonderful company, it was refreshing to have someone of your own gender to talk to. Thanks to Sky's guidance, you found yourself venturing outside more often, something you were hesitant to do alone in such a busy metropolis. Viktor already did so much for you, you couldn't possibly ask him to do more, and you and Jayce got along well but the idea of strolling through the city one-on-one with him felt slightly awkward - one day you hoped to find more commonality between you two.

You spent plenty of time with Viktor still, your friendship growing steadily each day. You tried to use your magic - positive thoughts only - to very little success. In total, you'd managed to break another glass while trying to hover a piece of paper beside it and thrown a potted plant out an open window. Each time you'd found yourself overwhelming frustrated and that familiar explosion in your chest took over and ruined your attempts. You struggled to think of overwhelmingly happy thoughts, your memories were very limited memories to choose from. Your past was still shrouded in mystery, and the anxiety of not knowing began to consume you. You tried to push it aside, but the fear of potentially being a terrible person haunted you. What if being a Motus Mage here was equivalent to being a Puppy Kicker in your own world? You don't think you were, but you couldn't be sure.

As you thought of Viktor, a tingling sensation would spread through your fingertips. It felt almost like electricity, but with a hint of something more ethereal, more magical. Memories of your outings with Sky danced through your mind, fleeting and bittersweet. But despite these moments of enchantment, little came of them. The constant fear of your visions cut through your memories, diming their spark. You’d think of laughing with Sky as she pointed discreetly towards a man’s ridiculously tall hat as he weaved through the crowded streets, only to then picture her turning to ash, your fingers swiping uselessly through her decaying form. And always there was that ever-present fear that no matter what you did, no matter how hard you tried to control your limited magic, it wouldn’t be enough to stop Viktor from getting sick - to stop him from turning to darker measures to stay alive. You felt defeated, like all your efforts were in vain. The only reason you kept trying was Viktor's gentle encouragement. How could you give up when he so easily believed in you? You couldn't bear to disappoint him.

Despite not experiencing any more visions, you were plagued by unsettling dreams. Night after night, the same little girl with blue hair appeared, honing her fighting skills under the guidance of a mysterious man with a black and yellow eye - the same figure that had haunted your first nightmare. Desperate for answers, you turned to Viktor, hoping he may have some insight into their identities.

You were pretty sure they were in the Undercity, and while it was a large place, you had been hoping he may have some idea as to who they were. Unfortunately, he did not, but he promised to keep an ear out for people matching that description.

As disturbing as it was to see a child learning how to kill, she seemed well taken care of, she was fed and she looked clean, but you weren't sure how healthy it was to let a child use a gun and make bombs. You were pretty sure that wasn't going to be in a parenting book.

As the days grew colder and the sun set earlier, the bustling city of Piltover was abuzz with excitement. The Winter Solstice holiday season was approaching, bringing with it a sense of joy and anticipation. Memories of similar celebrations in your own world danced at the edges of your mind - sharing gifts and good food, gathering with loved ones. But these memories were faint, hazy, like trying to recall a dream upon waking. You longed for those happy times, but they felt distant and unattainable now.

Despite this yearning, you couldn't help but feel a tinge of sadness as you tried to use these memories to fuel your magic. It only reminded you of the life you had lost and left a bitter taste in your mouth. Did Puppy Kickers get holidays? Or were they too consumed by their ruthless ways to partake in such festivities?

By the time the Winter Solstice day arrived, the halls of the Academy were deserted. Jayce and Sky had already departed for their respective families, leaving behind an eerie quietness in the usually bustling building. You were unsure of Viktor's plans for the holiday break, as he had not mentioned them in your presence, but you assumed he would be occupied with his own festivities. As for yourself, you had no concrete plans for the week ahead, but Sky had gifted you a small present - a beginner's science kit - before her departure. The gesture was unexpected yet thoughtful, and you had shared a laugh with her as she handed it to you on your walk home one evening. She seemed relieved that you didn't take it the wrong way and instead saw it as a token of friendship

"I thought you might enjoy understanding some of the stuff we do. I know the kit is for kids but it honestly looks like a lot of fun." She'd said, smiling sweetly, a light blush tinging her cheeks.

"Thank you,” you said with watery eyes. “I love it, it means a lot."

You cradled the small kit to your chest, cherishing it as the first possession that wasn't bestowed upon you by the cold walls of the Academy. The next day, you arrived with a sketch of the two of you hand in hand, strolling through a lush grove of flowers. Your artistic abilities were lacking - much like everything else about you these days - but you wondered if art could have been your hidden talent. You couldn't fathom why all of your talents seemed to be buried deep beneath the surface, forgotten. Scrounging up some coloured pencils from the abandoned art room on campus, you poured your heart into creating something for Sky. The pure joy and uncontrollable laughter that bubbled out of her when she saw your drawing was worth every effort. With no money to buy gifts, you could at least make her happy with your meagre attempts at art. Though it was challenging to look at Sky without seeing the haunting image of her fading away before your eyes, her radiant smile banished those thoughts from your mind. It was as if she glowed with vitality so at odds with the thought of her vibrant spark being extinguished in a cloud of ash.

The first day of the break was typically filled with centuries-old traditions - giving presents and indulging in hearty, home-cooked meals. While you had none of these things, you found a sense of comfort in the Solstice-themed dishes that were to be served at the cafeteria. With your trusty science kit by your side, you were determined to distract yourself from any feelings of loneliness that may arise during this week-long break. But as the sun began to set and the emptiness of your dorm room became more apparent, doubt crept into your mind. Would you truly be fine spending the holiday alone?

You followed through with your plans, secretly revelling in the science kit far more than you would have cared to admit. The thrill of sitting on your bedroom floor and concocting various chemicals, watching them froth and burst out of a delicate glass beaker, was addictive. The pungent smell of zinc hung thick in the air, mingling with the sharp tang of vinegar and the sweet scent of baking soda. Each experiment brought a rush of excitement and satisfaction, like unlocking a secret formula or discovering a hidden world. You felt like a mad scientist, lost in your own little laboratory of wonders.

After a long day, the thought of a lonely meal in an empty cafeteria was enough to bring you down. So you decided to take dinner back to your room, where at least you could find some consolation in the familiar surroundings. But as you got up to leave, throwing your door open, you had to stop yourself from running into Viktor where he stood on the threshold, his hand balled into a fist and poised to knock.

You startled back, hand flying to your chest to calm your racing heart. What was he doing here? Wasn’t everyone supposed to be gone? "Viktor,” you said breathlessly. “I didn't expect to see you here."

"My apologies, Mila, I should have said something earlier this week, but I got a little uh-" His eyes darted behind you, catching sight of the beakers foaming with various coloured liquids. You could feel your cheeks burn and you cursed yourself for having left them out. Of course, he caught you playing with a kid's toy. "Is that a children's science kit?"

You sighed as you covered your face with your hand, feeling the flush of embarrassment travel down your neck. "Sky got it for me. It was meant to be a joke, but I can't lie and say I wasn't having fun."

"I'm glad you've been enjoying yourself." Viktor had a teasing smirk on his face, jerk. "I was going to offer to attend the cafeteria Solstice dinner with you, but seeing as you are very busy with your research I should probably leave you to it."

Your forehead pinched. "Wait, you aren't leaving for the holiday?"

Viktor shrugged, the corners of his lips pulling down in an indifferent sort of frown. "I don't have anywhere to leave to."

You winced internally, pursing your lips to keep it from showing on your face. He'd never talked about his family and you hadn't tried to pry, but if he wasn't going to see them then that probably did not bode well. Either they were not on speaking terms, or they were dead. "Look at us, twins!” You nudged his arm with your elbow, earning yourself a lopsided grin that sent butterflies scattering through your stomach. “If you let me clean up I would love to join you for dinner."

"Best to properly dispose of chemicals lest they explode in your bedroom," he said with mock seriousness.

You rolled your eyes and hastily stashed your belongings in a nearby drawer. It was far from secure, but it would have to suffice for the time being. Viktor, leaning casually against the door frame, wasted no time in teasing you about one day taking over his job.

"Keep going and your favourite water glass will be my next victim." You threatened, trying to look menacing.

He gasped in sarcastic surprise, clutching his hand to his chest. "You wouldn’t."

You lifted your nose in the air, failing to keep the mirth off your face. "I'd consider it."

Despite your efforts to dismiss it, your mind kept revisiting the invitation from Viktor for dinner. It was just a kind gesture from a friend who knew you would be alone during the holiday season and wanted to lift your spirits. Or perhaps it was simply a case of two friends not wanting to spend the evening alone, seeking each other's company instead.

Your heart hammered as Viktor suggested the two of you eat in his apartment after securing your food. His reasoning echoed your own thoughts when you contemplated spending the night alone in the deserted cafeteria. As you followed him up to the staff quarters, you couldn't help but feel a flutter of excitement mixed with nerves.

Viktor's apartment was much larger than yours and exuded a sense of warmth and comfort. You caught glimpses of plush brown leather furniture in the living room and an inviting eat-in kitchen with a small table for two tucked into the corner. You couldn't see beyond closed doors that led to his bedroom and bathroom, but you could imagine their coziness from the rest of his well-furnished home.

Viktor strode off towards the kitchen, leaving you to take in more of his interior decorating. The air was filled with the scent of old books and polished wood, giving the room a rich, scholarly atmosphere. Dark Academia is the term that came to mind as you gazed at the dark wooden bookshelves lining the walls, adorned with an array of different types of books and trinkets. Most seemed to be science-related, but there was a section that caught your eye - clearly designated as Viktor's "for fun" area by the eclectic mix of fantasy novels on display. The trinkets themselves were a curious assortment - intricate puzzles and mechanical contraptions that sparked a sense of wonder within you. Your gaze lingered on an old metal boat, its edges rusted from time and neglect. A strange feeling tugged at your memory, as if this boat held some significance. Shaking off the odd sensation, you reasoned that it must be reminiscent of a similar childhood toy from your world.

From your vantage point in the living room, you could see into the kitchen which appeared rather plain and unremarkable. The countertops were bare, except for a few scattered utensils and a half-empty coffee mug. The walls were painted a dull beige colour, and the cabinets were faded white. It was evident that he didn't spend much time in this room, as there were no signs of cooking or baking. The only indication of life was a faint light coming from the open fridge, revealing a sparse selection of food inside. Compared to the cozy and lived-in living room, the kitchen seemed like an afterthought, neglected and forgotten.

"I hope you do not mind that I did not make a homemade meal. I am afraid that it would likely have ended up burnt to a crisp." Viktor came back out carrying plates and cutlery for you both.

You waved him off. "I'm just happy to have the company."

"I am as well." With a gentle smile, he eased himself onto the plush couch and transferred his food from the takeout container onto his plate. You mirrored his actions, leaving a respectable space between you two. However, you made sure not to perch on the far end of the couch, not wanting to make him think you found him disgusting. In fact, you found yourself quite drawn to him in this intimate setting. The soft glow of the lamp lit up his handsome features, casting alluring shadows across his face. It was impossible not to steal glances at him as you both enjoyed your meal together.

The food was far beyond what you were expecting - cooked to perfection with the freshest ingredients. You could almost taste the love and effort that went into its preparation. It was only after savouring the first few bites that you felt a fog lifting from your mind, making room for memories to resurface. Though their faces were still a bit fuzzy, you could hear your family's voices clearly as they chattered around the dinner table, sharing stories and laughter - even though you could not make out the exact words.

You nearly choked on your meal, it was the most you'd remembered of your past life so far. Your throat constricted with emotion and your hands trembled as you set your plate down in your lap. The taste of nostalgia was bittersweet, like a forgotten melody playing on a distant radio station. That didn't seem like the kind of holiday a horrible person would have, right?

"Is the food truly that bad?" Viktor's curved lips formed a genuine smile, though his dark eyes held a glint of concern.

You shook your head with a small laugh, willing your hands into stillness. "No, I just had a memory…well, most of one anyway."

"A good one?"

"I think so. It was one from a holiday back home, we were around a dinner table, they were swapping stories, and I was…happy." You trailed off, replaying the memory in your head, fearing that if you didn't you would lose it. “I can't see their faces, and it's patchy at times but I think we were opening gifts too."

"That's wonderful, Miláček. A holiday gift itself." His hand twitched with an uncertain longing, as if he wanted to reach out to you but was holding himself back. He hesitated for a moment, his fingers hovering in the air before finally grasping onto his cane to help him stand up. "Speaking of gifts, I have something for you."

You felt a wave of embarrassment and guilt wash over you as realized that you hadn’t gotten him anything in return. Granted, you hadn’t thought that you were going to be celebrating the Solstice together, but you should have gotten something anyway. Would he enjoy a drawing that looked like it was done by an eight-year-old? You could feel your cheeks heating up and wanted nothing more than to hide your face in your hands. How could you have been so thoughtless?

"Oh, Viktor, you don't have to-"

He spoke over her. "I know, but I wanted to."

There wasn't much you could say to argue that. With a quick, determined stride, he made his way to the nearest bookshelf and snatched up a small red and gold-wrapped box that had gone unnoticed until now. The wrapping paper was shiny and crisp, tied with a delicate ribbon.

Sitting back down beside you, he carefully placed the small box in your hand. Your heart fluttered with excitement as you smiled shyly at him and began to unwrap it, taking care not to ruin the delicate paper and ribbon. You could feel his eyes on you, watching with anticipation as you revealed the contents of the box.

Your eyes met his and he gave a slight nod, permitting you to open the lid. Your fingers trembled with both delight and nerves as you lifted the lid and peeked inside. And then, in an instant, your hand flew to your mouth as you gazed upon the object nestled within the box's velvet lining.

A delicate bracelet made of shining silver lay before you, its simple design holding a captivating beauty. The thin band of silver was intricately attached to a delicate chain that would latch it onto your wrist, but it was the engraved word that caused a rush of emotions in your chest - too many to name. The word Miláček adorned the bracelet, but it wasn't written in the language of Runeterra English. Instead, it was written in your own language, adding a special touch to the already beautiful piece. You gently lifted the bracelet, marvelling at its craftsmanship and the meaning behind its inscription. With a grateful smile, you turned to Viktor, at a loss for words.

He watched you with a mix of expectation and nervousness. "Is it spelled correctly? I was going off some of the notes you left at the lab."

"It's perfect." You felt like your smile was going rip off your face. "Thank you, Viktor. I…I love it."

"Here," he said, crooking his fingers toward your wrist, motioning for you to move it closer. "Allow me."

You extended your arm, offering your wrist to him. The cool touch of his fingers had goosebumps rising to your flesh, but you tried to remain calm as he delicately clasped the bracelet in place. With a satisfied smile, you gently pulled your wrist back and admired how the shiny metal caught the light, perfectly positioned on your skin.

"I'm sorry I don't have anything for you," you said, smile falling from your face. "Unless you'd accept a crappy hand-drawn picture tomorrow," you tacked on with a timid laugh.

"Not having to spend another Solstice alone is gift enough." Viktor's voice was like a gentle caress against your skin, sending a tingle down your spine. As you felt your cheeks flush with heat, you couldn't help but look away and fiddle with the bracelet on your wrist to hide your reaction. But inside, a warmth spread through your chest and up your throat, threatening to spill over in a wave of emotions. Spending time with Viktor always brought you happiness, but being able to get away from work, and simply spend time as friends was a memory you would always cherish.

A sudden surge of need overtook you and without thinking, you threw your arms around Viktor's neck, pulling him into a warm, tight embrace. He seemed momentarily stunned, his body stiffening in his seat. For a moment, you feared that you had crossed a boundary and ruined your friendship. But as soon as the shock wore off, Viktor's arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer to him, his chin resting on your shoulder, the spiced smell of his cologne lingering in your nose.

"Happy Solstice, Miláček," he whispered in your ear. His voice was like a warm caress, saying your name as if it were the most valuable treasure in the world. The fluttering of butterflies in your stomach only intensified at his touch, making it difficult for you to maintain composure.

You tightened your arms around his neck. "Happy Solstice, Viktor."

Without warning, a jolt of familiar electricity coursed through your body, sending you hurtling into a different time. Heart pounding in your throat, you took in your surroundings. You were in the kitchen of a quaint and cozy house, its walls adorned with peeling paint and worn wooden cabinets that exuded a sense of charm and history. Despite its wear and tear, it was clear that this place was well-loved and cherished as a home. In the kitchen stood a woman you did not recognize, pouring a glass of milk. She was petite with long, wavy dark brown hair cascading down her back, and her light blue dress and patched tights gave off a humble yet endearing vibe. But it was her bright amber eyes that captured your attention, for they shone with warmth and familiarity, instantly revealing her identity to you.

"Viktor, come and get your sweet milk!" His mother called, voice warm and full of love as she stared past you with a fond softness to her features.

The unmistakable thump of a cane clacked against the ground, drawing your attention to the figure approaching from behind. You turned to see a little boy, barely reaching up to your waist, making his way into the kitchen. At first glance, you knew it had to be Viktor - his face was rounder and his cane looked like it had been crudely carved from a tree branch - a metal handle at the top. But as he limped closer, his eyes mirrored those of his mother's, filled with warmth and kindness, and his wide smile lit up the room. You’d never seen him so open, so unreserved. What had happened to that little boy to make him so…sad?

"Thank you, mama!" he cheered, eagerly reaching for the glass in her hand. He pulled a seat up at the dining table, his back now turned to you, his feet swinging happily below him as he chugged the drink back.

"Don't drink it so fast!" his mother scolded with no true irritation.

With bated breath, you observed Viktor in a state of pure fascination. His youth radiated with an infectious joy, a refreshing change from the prior haunting visions that plagued you. But just as your attention was fully captured, your shoe squeaked against the floor, causing his mother's seemingly unobservant gaze to snap towards you. It felt like her piercing eyes could see right through you, as if she knew all your secrets and fears. Startled, you instinctively took a step back as her form flickered and shifted, becoming translucent before your very eyes. The once vibrant woman now appeared ghostly and pale, with sunken eyes and shrivelled hair.

"Please," she begged, raspy and doleful, "you have to save him."

"I-I'm trying," you stammered, taking another step back. You'd never interacted with a vision before and it left you feeling disoriented and off-balance.

"Save my boy," she continued, reaching a skeletal hand toward you. "You have to save him."

The world around you blurred and twisted, the colours blending together before your eyes. You blinked in confusion, trying to make sense of the sudden shift. Slowly, the scene melted away, revealing the present moment once again. Viktor's hands were on your shoulders, his grip gentle yet firm, concern etched into the lines of his face.

"Mila, are you alright?"

You blinked rapidly, centering yourself. "I...I'm okay," you said shakily.

"Another vision?" he asked. You nodded, taking a deep breath to calm your nerves. Viktor's expression was difficult to read, his eyes shadowed.

"What did you see?"

You hesitated. Should you tell him the truth? That you'd seen him as a child, so happy and carefree? That his mother had seemed so warm and loving? The pleading look in her ghostly eyes felt private, not yours to share.

"Do you still love sweet milk?" you said without thinking.

Viktor frowned, that had not been what he had expected you to say. "Pardon?"

A soft smile took over your features, washing away the fear that had accompanied the end of your vision. "I saw you as a kid. You were with your mom in the kitchen and she gave you sweet milk. Why didn’t you ever say you were such a cute kid?"

Viktor chuckled, his cheeks flushing a rosy pink as he tried to shake off his mild embarrassment. "I must admit, I have always had a bit of a sweet tooth," he admitted with a sheepish smile. He reached for a warm cinnamon roll from his plate and took a large bite as if to emphasize his point.

You chuckled, a wistful tilt to the corners of your mouth. “It was nice to see something good for a change.”

"What were you feeling before it happened?" Viktor savoured the last bites of his cinnamon roll before reaching across the table for yours. You playfully slapped his hand away, snatching up the pastry and cramming it into your mouth before he could steal a bite. The sweet, doughy treat melted in your mouth, leaving behind a lingering taste of warmth and comfort.

He looked at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Rude."

You rolled your eyes before bringing the conversation back to the topic at hand. "I was just…really happy."

"Do you think my theory that you can use positive emotions may have worked?" he asked, excitement creeping into his voice. Even when he wasn't working he was still a scientist, he couldn't help but be intrigued.

"It would make sense, given the circumstances." Except for when the apparition of his deceased mother had spoken to you. But you didn’t wish to upset him with such things when you still had no idea if that was truly here and not some sort of…cosmic warning.

"Then we will simply have to keep testing it," Viktor said, his voice filled with determination. You nodded in agreement, if you could use your magic for good, you'd take any chance you could get.

As the night stretched on, the weight of the world seemed to melt away, leaving you at ease and nestled comfortably by his side. The soft glow of the moon cast a serene ambiance over everything as if time itself had slowed down just for this moment. You breathed in and let out a contented sigh, wondering why every night couldn't be just like this one.

* * *

Your back was stiff and achy as your muscles warped in a direction not meant for long-term positioning. Your bed wasn’t anything special, but it wasn’t so terrible as to have your whole body screaming at you to move. And your neck…the angle of your pillow was doing nothing to help - you were mildly concerned that it would snap in half if you tried to put it back in place.

At least you were warm, cocooned beneath a soft blanket, softly laid over your curled-up form. The comforting scent of spiced cologne mingled with the faint smell of ink, creating a unique aroma that was uniquely Viktor's. You sighed wistfully, imagining his arms around you, his calming presence filling the space around you. How you longed to be snuggled up together, your face pressed against his broad shoulders and his soft hair tickling your cheek.

As your eyelids fluttered open, the room slowly came into focus. A soft glow somewhere off to the side illuminated the space, casting dancing shadows across the walls and floor. Your bleary eyes took in the unfamiliar surroundings, and it didn't take long for you to realize that this wasn't your bedroom.

On the coffee table, remnants of your evening snacks had been cleared away, leaving no trace behind. As foggy memories floated back to you, you pieced together what must have happened. You had dozed off on Viktor's comfortable couch, lulled to sleep by the warmth of his company and the comfort of his home.

A sudden surge of adrenaline jolted through your body, immediately dispelling any traces of sleepiness like a rogue wave had swept it out to sea. You frantically checked yourself for any signs of embarrassment - had you drooled? Or perhaps made strange noises or, God forbid, talked in your sleep?

Your hand brushed across your cheek, wiping away a small patch of crusted drool. You cursed your sleeping self for its lack of decorum and hoped that it had happened after Viktor had left. Your mind raced as you wondered where he might be. Was he in his bedroom? It seemed likely, but then again, where else would he have gone? The sound of scratching pen against paper interrupted your thoughts, causing them to come to a screeching halt. You turned your head towards the source of the noise and saw Viktor hunched over his desk, surrounded by crumpled balls of paper spilling onto the ground. The dim light from a small lamp on the corner of the desk cast shadows across the room, creating an eerie atmosphere. Despite the familiarity of the setting, it also reminded you of your vision - minus the Shimmer, glowing orb, and decay of Viktor's body.

And how were you supposed to stop that future if your magic was so damned useless?

And did that mean that you…were useless?

No, that was a bad path to go down, it would lead to nothing healthy. Pushing the insecurity to the back of your mind, you propped yourself up on your elbow, watching as Viktor muttered to himself, entirely lost in his thoughts.

“Working on the Winter Solstice,” you rasped, your voice thick with sleep. “I’m pretty sure that’s the exact opposite point of a holiday.”

“The meaning of holidays is to enjoy oneself, is it not?” Viktor turned in his chair, arm resting casually over the backrest, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Given that I enjoy my work, I see no issue.”

With a shake of your head, you sat up and stretched your arms above your head. The satisfying crack of your joints echoed through the quiet room as you released the built-up tension. As the blanket slipped off your shoulders, a rush of cold air hit the sliver of exposed skin on your stomach, causing you to gasp in surprise. Quickly bundling yourself back up in the warm fabric, you tucked it snugly under your chin, seeking refuge from the chill.

Viktor chuckled, his hair tousled and falling onto his forehead in an effortlessly charming way. It was entirely unhelpful when it came to calming yourself.

A blush crept up your cheeks as you smiled bashfully. “You keep it very cold in here.”

He bobbed his head in an indifferent motion. “It was what I grew up with. Most Undercity homes do not have the luxury of central heating.”

You nodded, the wheels turning in your mind as you processed this new piece of information. It was no surprise, really, given all the stories you had heard of the lower levels and their impoverished conditions. Memories of your childhood were fleeting and hazy, unable to provide any insight into your social status. But one thing you did know for sure - your world was filled with people who lived just like those in the Undercity. Toxic air, crumbling homes, rampant crime, and drugs used to keep them oppressed and give those in power an excuse to imprison or kill them.

It was a harsh reality to face - even a place like Piltover, with access to advanced technology beyond your wildest dreams - and possibly even magic, if they chose to embrace it - was no better than the world you had grown up in. Greed was a universal issue that plagued every corner of society and it never failed to spark rage within your chest.

You stood up from the leather couch and pulled the warm, knit blanket tighter around your shoulders. As you made your way over to the large mahogany desk, your footsteps echoed against the hardwood floor. You leaned over his shoulder, catching a glimpse of the intricate drawings he had been working on. Your eyes scanned over the dozens of crumpled papers scattered across the desk, your eyebrow raising in curiosity.

“I am unable to get it right,” Viktor answered your unasked question. “It is…missing something, I can feel it. But I have no idea what.”

You were of little help, all this advanced technology wasn’t your area of expertise.

Even if, by some unlikely chance, you had been an astrophysicist in your world, Viktor's work would have still been beyond your understanding. The calculations were a jumble of numbers and symbols in his scratchy handwriting, and the diagram itself resembled a convoluted maze. It was as if you were trying to decipher a code from a different language, with no guide or key to assist you.

“A little bow at the top would do it wonders,” you teased, grinning at how clever you were.

He returned your grin, wagging his pen at you. “You may be on to something. I will have to conduct further research to confirm, but you will, of course, be credited.”

Your responding giggle may have been more of a chortle, but who could blame you, you’d only just woken up and it was still the middle of the night.

“I should let you get on that then, we can’t keep your patrons waiting. They must know whether or not your…thing will have a bow or not.”

“It is of the utmost importance.” He put his pen down on the table, his grin slipping into a softer smile. “But in all seriousness, thank you for spending the Solstice with me, Mila. I enjoyed our time together.”

Your heart melted into a soup of gooey mush at the earnestness which shone in his eyes. Why did he have to do these things to you?

“Thank you for inviting me, Viktor. I had a lovely evening, though if you find drool on your couch, I swear it wasn’t me.”

His eyes crinkled at the corners. “It must be the invisible Poros again. I will have to find an exterminator.”

“Those poor Poros,” you said, fiddling with the edges of the warm blanket, reluctant to remove it. But an idea sparked in your mind, and with one fluid motion, you removed the blanket and draped it over Viktor's slim shoulders. You adjusted the corners, pulling them taut at the center of his chest, ensuring he was enveloped in its warmth. As you wrapped him up, you couldn't help but admire the way the blanket brought out the colour of his eyes and highlighted the sharp lines of his jaw. He looked like a king draped in regal robes.

His eyebrows shot up in surprise, his thin lips parting slightly as he tilted his head and ran his long, graceful fingers along the edges of the soft fabric.

You smiled and patted his shoulder. “Pre-heated,” you said in lieu of a real explanation.

“How…considerate,” he said carefully, though he did not appear to dislike it nor did he attempt to remove it.

“My services are available at any time.”

“I will keep that in mind.”

Your smile was beginning to hurt your cheeks, and you had already stayed long enough. However, that didn’t make it any less difficult to leave. “Goodnight, Viktor.”

He was silent for a moment, his gaze searching yours - for what, you did not know, but a blush dusted your cheeks nonetheless.

When you weren’t sure if you could take the tension anymore without bolting, he sat back in his chair, smiling softly once more. “Goodnight, Miláček.”

With a longing tugging at your gut, you reluctantly tore yourself away from him and left his room, the door creaking shut behind you like one last goodbye.

The vision of child Viktor was the only one you would get for the rest of the week. Time flew by as you and Viktor spent countless hours in the library, searching for a quiet corner to practice in. The smell of old books and the sound of turning pages filled the air as you poured over texts that promised to assist in your endeavours.

You had enjoyed your time, just you and Viktor tucked away in the cozy library. The soft glow of the fireplace danced across his face as he spoke, his lilting voice filled with excitement and determination as he explained their progress on applying Gemstones to mechanical devices. You hung onto every word, marvelling at the brilliance of his mind and the potential of their discovery. But in between discussions of science and magic, Viktor opened up about his childhood, hoping to trigger some memories of your own. Though unsuccessful, you were captivated by his stories of tinkering with his first inventions and the cherished moments spent with his mother. As the hours passed by, you couldn't imagine a more perfect way to spend your time.

But despite your diligent efforts, the week ended with nothing to show for it. You couldn't seem to capture that same sense of elation that you experienced on the first night of the Winter Solstice. Every day, you wore the bracelet gifted to you by Viktor, hoping it would grant you some insight into your magic. But no matter how many times you tried, it simply wouldn't work and you were left wondering why.

The final day of the holiday before everyone was expected to return, you were so overwhelmed with frustration that you inadvertently caused a shelf of books to go flying. The sound of pages rustling and spines cracking filled the air as the books tumbled to the ground, their colourful covers scattered haphazardly. Angry tears welled up in your eyes as you realized the repercussions of your outburst and you were both promptly kicked out of the library.

"I'm so sorry Viktor," you said, shoulders hanging in defeat.

He clapped you on the shoulder and gave you an encouraging smile. "You did magic, even if it was not exactly what we were aiming for. That counts for something."

You smiled weakly back, you didn't know how he managed to keep such a positive outlook, but you were thankful for it.

Stepping into the lab after the holiday break felt like returning to a familiar, yet slightly foreign world. The sterile white walls and humming machines surrounded you, and the smell of chemicals lingered in the air. But most of all, it was the presence of your friends that made you feel at home again. Sky pulled you into a big hug as soon as she saw you, and she eagerly asked about your science kit. You couldn't help but smile sheepishly as you recounted all the experiments and discoveries you had made. You were rather proud of yourself for not blowing anything up.

You returned to your usual spot, picking up a book on magic that you had been reading before the break. While these books weren't entirely useful in terms of your powers, you'd found some interesting tidbits about magic that the scientist had used to help with Hextech. It helped you feel like you were contributing instead of using up all their resources.

Jayce's sudden approach caught you off guard. Though you were cordial with each other in group settings, you rarely had personal conversations. As he strode towards you, he slapped a thick stack of papers onto the desk with a wide grin on his face, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

"Since you're here all the time anyway, we thought it was about time to make it official."

As your eyes scanned the stack of papers, a sense of foreboding settled in the pit of your stomach. The top page was neatly typed and labelled with bold letters: "Employment Contract for Lab Assistant." You couldn't believe it - they were offering you a job? You turned to Jayce, your mouth dropping open in shock. "Seriously?" you blurted out, unable to contain your surprise. "I mean, I'm grateful for the opportunity, but...I don't know how much use I'll be," you admitted nervously, feeling inadequate in the face of this daunting new responsibility.

"You've been plenty helpful,” Jayce insisted, “and as we get Hextech up and running we’re going to need an extra pair of hands around here." With a sly grin, he leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "It was Viktor's idea, but don’t tell him I said that. He’d never let me live it down."

Your gaze shifted to where Viktor sat, his posture tense as he made a poor attempt at hiding the fact that he was eavesdropping on your conversation. Your attention returned to Jayce, who shot you a playful wink before straightening back up to his full height.

"Take a read through it. It's totally up to you, but it would come with pay and an upgraded room," he said, shooting finger guns at you as he stepped back in a way you were sure he meant to be enticing.

A swell of warmth bloomed in your chest as you perused the contract, solidifying your place in Piltover. Despite still feeling like an outsider in this unfamiliar city, the reassurance of a job and a stable living arrangement made you feel one step closer to truly belonging. A soft smile graced your lips as you turned to look at Viktor, the man who had captured your heart and made it his own in this strange world. You would have it no other way.

Next Chapter

A/N: Have a mild rant about classism, as a treat

I am disabled, my preference is to use ‘disabled person’, not person-first language like ‘person with a disability’. It's my personal preference and I’ll just say that you wouldn’t say ‘person with gayness’ you’d say ‘gay person’ cause it’s not shameful to be gay, sure it’s super stigmatized but it’s a part of you, and it's not bad. So that’s the short version of why I use identity-first language.

Tag list: @im-just-a-simp-le-whore

[stuckybarton]

Sucker For Pain i

SUMMARY: You were new to the team, but what everyone didn't know was you weren't so new to the God of Mischief. CHARACTERS: Loki Laufeyson x Ex!Reader [Ex to Lovers again?] WARNINGS: Profanities. Suggestive Themes. Slight Angst and horrible self-image. Grammar Mistakes. English not being my first language. [Not Beta’d tho] WORDS: 2,956 CHAPTERS: [1/3] A/N; Life happened and yeah, didn’t have much time to write. Not my best work for this mini-series, but I’m fighting through for this. Hope you guys enjoy~

PART TWO | PART THREE

MASTERLIST || Join the Taglist

"Agent Y/N Y/L/N." You introduced yourself the first moment you were escorted into the compound by Director Nick Fury. Multiple sets of faces both new and old had come to greet you. For a moment you wouldn't even believe that this is was the new life you would find yourself to be a part of from now on.

Years in the job for SHIELD before disappearing off the grid to get as much information about HYDRA, everyone had thought you had betrayed them and you had accepted that they would think so lowly of you after all the near-deaths you had to endure on the job. Even with the mission becoming more of a death wish, you had accepted the role Nick had given you all those years ago and now you were rewarded, immensely. A spot on the Avengers as part of the Earth's Mightiest Heroes.

The familiar face of Nat was the first to greet you with a hug. A fiercely tight one, it had been so long since you've seen a friend. Then your eyes fell towards the rest of the team; Bucky Barnes, who you had a few close encounters with during your time with HYDRA. You had witness everything they had done to him and stood on trail to clean his name. Steve Rogers, who, with Sharon Carter, had assisted in guarding Steve while SHIELD was still under HYDRA's control. But among the familiar faces, one stood out the most.

Loki Laufeyson.

To many, the man was a snake, a God that had once brought death and destruction in New York. But to you, he was different, this was the man that you had spent your lonely nights with while under the guise of a traitor. It had once just been a physically thing between the two of you, neither wanting to know about each other's lives. You knew he was a God, a man that had wronged the world, but he had never known about you, the woman that had painted yourself as a traitor for the better of the world. The one that had been called every name on the book for the sake of making sure you did your part right.

Then it got serious between the two of you. Admission of love was told between both of your lips. But it was dangerous for you two to be together especially when you were already told by Fury that you can come back to the surface. You didn't know what side he was on, and you did not have the heart to make him choose if the time would come.

So you two parted. A month ago. The pain still throbbing you like an unattended bullet hole right through your heart. It was still so painful to look at him and not remember him crumbling on his knees begging you to stay. The first sob that escaped his lips and forever haunted your dreams. A never-ending loop in the back of your head as your demons screamed at you for breaking an already broken man.

"I for one am happy you're finally here. Another woman to add to an already Man's Man world in the compound." Nat teased glancing towards the other individuals that had come to know the new face. "With introductions out of the way, you've got a lot of explaining to do for the past few years."

You could only smile at your friend. You did have so much to explain to her, things had been murky between you and Clint, but after everything, Nat had refused to believe you would betray them, betray her, and it was finally a relief to be able to return back home, seeing the people that mean the most to you.

"Tell me about it." You muttered allowing Nat to quickly pull your away from the crowd, but it missed your eyes how he was still looking. Ice blue eyes a contract to the burning gaze he had towards you.

Forget about him. Forget about him. You were here for a new opportunity. No him. Never him.

For the next few weeks, everyone had grown to accept you in your new role as part of the Avengers. You kept up with Steve, Bucky, and Sam during their runs. Sam more than happy to finally have someone that had the same pace as him, but only for you to laugh and out run him just to get a reaction out of the high flier. Tony and Bruce had also found a kinship in you, having provided them enough information about HYDRA's experiments and location made most of their missions easier. Then there was Nat and Clint, your confidant in this new life. Every single moment that was not dedicated to a mission was spent with them; may it be movie night or a simple get together outside the compound, often times bringing Wanda and Vision along just to mess with you and call you a 5th wheel of the group.

But among number of members on the team, everyone had noticed you constantly avoided one Thor Odinson and one Loki Laufeyson. The only real time you would even dare talk to either of the brothers would be during training--other than that, you tried your best to avoid them, Loki most especially. Every single moment that would force the two of you to be in the same room, Loki had a glare while you tried your best to avoid his gaze.

Everyone noticed, everyone didn't seem to worry too much. It comes with having a former-villain part of the team. They thought you would eventually get used to the God's presence just as much as they did.

"You ever gonna tell me what's going on between you and Loki?" Nat inquired avoiding your punch.

What you hated the most about sparring with Nat was her capability of multitasking. Talking and snooping about someone else's business while also kicking their ass in the process--this was the predicament you were in right in this very moment.

"Nothing is going on." You muttered landing back first on the mat after being thrown like a rag doll by Nat. Eyes looking at the ceiling, you wondered if it was a good idea to actually come clean to her about her past with the God of Mischief. "I know what he's done to New York and I think you can't blame me for taking precaution when it comes to him."

Nat now comes hovering on top of you, the narrowed eyes and gentle smirk was all you needed to know--she knew it was bullshit. But when she had stopped pushing you for more information, it was enough for you to just change the subject.

"They found Dominic?" You inquired. One of the first big missions that everyone was focusing on was one of the leading Scientist for HYDRA. With the exposure of HYDRA to the world, some of them had moved away and found themselves in much shadier company, much to everyone's radar now spiking.

Dominic Wagner was, in part, partially responsible for the Winter Soldier program in the modern era. One of the pioneers in moving the project into a much younger sets of test subjects. You lost contact with the man as soon as your got back into the surface, but it had also meant a target was on your back when they found out you were a double agent.

"He's in Russia. Wasting away all the funding for the program with parties" Nat points out. "Still a better way to spend the money that abducting kids everywhere."

You nodded, memories of files upon files for the prospects still haunted you to this day.

"When are you taking him out?" You inquired. In your time with the SHIELD, the red in both of your ledger had made you two a hot commodity if the situation present itself as shoot to kill. Neither of you would hesitate. You knew you would now, after everything, but if it means one less bad people in this earth, you would swallow your new morals.

"Fury wants him alive." She pointed out finally standing back up to her own two feet, leaving you on your back, staring at the ceiling in deep thought. "I know as much as you do, we want him dead for everything he has done, but we need him alive so we can get the others."

You nodded, this was one of the few things you had to get used to as part of the team. Death was best solution in SHIELD--at least in your team, not here. As long as you were part of Steve's team, you would need to choose whether or not killing would be the best option. Hope that you weren't so blessed to be given in your time under.

"I get a first shot when we don''t have any use of him anymore." You muttered finally standing back up with Nat's help. Steps faltering at the sight of the God of Mischief, training with the likes of Peter Parker, Sam Wilson, and Bucky Barnes. A weird mix up, but wasn't hard to understand why.

"Why don't you shoot your shots with him for now." Nat teased, finally making you break from staring at the plain black shirt and green sweatshort-clad Loki Laufeyson. "If we try to ignore the death count during his attack, he is sort-of your type in men." Nat wiggled her brows. quick to avoid you as you attempted to swat her in the ass, eyes now turned away from God and his training partners.

"By type, you mean psychotic with possible Daddy-issue? Then you might just be right." You snort.

"I'm offended you think of me as such, Darling"

Jerking your head to the owner of the voice, how the hell did he sneak up behind you without you noticing. You glanced at Nat in panic and like the traitor that she was, made a terrible excuse of being needed in Bruce's lab. Now being left in the man's presence, you could all but remember the last time you had been this close to the man.

Heartbreaks.

Words that you didn't mean.

Words that he didn't mean.

It still hurt you, and you were sure it hurts him just as much, if not more now, finally realizing why there had been a need for a breakup between the two of them all those weeks ago.

"Here I thought I would have someone to trust. You mortals continue to disappoint me." He hissed.

Your eyes glanced at the other training trio, noticing all three of them were in their own little world to even noticed what was going on between the two of them.

"Tell me, Darling..." He whispered, head leaning towards the shell of your ears. The familiar shiver run through your skin as just his voice. Memories of the very things his silver tongue had whispered had you flustered and breathless, more than from your earlier training with Nat. "Was it satisfying to play with a God?"

Before you could even mutter a word, his constantly gentle hand now covered your jaw, emitting a squeak from your lips and stopping you from saying a word. He was never this forceful, nor did he do anything that would hurt you. Was this the true nature of the man you had finally thought you have been the best part of you. To have loved a man that everyone was right to stay away from?

"Or is it shame finally coming to you, to be ever involved with someone like me?"

You tried to pry his hand away from you, but he was too strong--stronger than you could ever think of being.

"Or is this you taking your opportunity to move from one bed to another? Who will it be this time, Y/N? My oaf of a brother or will it be Soldier out of time? Who will you whore this time?"

And you finally snapped. With a resounding slap, all three individuals had heard your attack on the man and Loki finally releasing his hold on your jaws. A chuckle escaped his lips and only brought the first line of tears to fall from your eyes. You never wanted to believe him to be a monster, but here he was, proving her wrong.

"I am in doubt of the foundation of our relationship for the past years, Y/N. I am the God of Mischief and Lies and the only mortal I had ever truly opened to had done this to me. Lied to me for such a long time, lied about the entirety of our relationship."

"You will never understand."

"Oh no," he chuckled darkly, eyes glaring straight into your own. "I understand well enough to know, you would never love someone like me and I deserve every lie and heartache I am enduring because of everything I have ever done in my past."

Before you could defend yourself and the genuinity of your relationship with the God, he had made his excuse. Leaving you to ponder of the true damage of your breakup with Loki, and the aftermath it had now held for the both of you. He was right, you had lied, and either way, their relationship will fall apart because of those lies.

He was the God of Mischief and Lies.

Yet, he did not expect for this biggest lie to break him the most. The separation had been painful, he had always hoped for a better life with you. Then a month passed since your breakup, he sees you, it hits him like a sharp knife to the chest all over again. He experience the pain of a stab to the chest, but it would never compare to the pain of seeing you in this very compound with the truth of your life that you refused to ever open to him.

This was karma coming to haunt him it seems.

It had been well over a week now since the first time he had actually confronted you about everything. It wasn't how he planned for things to go through. He never wanted to hurt you, but he was a monster after all. A monster that his own father had told his people to avoid. A bedtime story to scare mischievous kids into submission.

He had always thought after everything he had to endure, had to do, had to escape, he could finally live a peaceful life. A life to finally start anew. A life where he could finally change for the best. A mortal woman had made him make those ideas come into reality, you had always became the reason why he would never have his redemption in life.

A bitter idea with no possible resolution.

How could he have ever believed that anyone would ever love someone like him? After everything he had ever done, he was never allowed to be loved. You had proved that somehow.

'Mr. Laufeyson, you are needed for a meeting with the team'

Breaking from his little bubble. He sighed finally returning back to reality, into the little comforts the library could give him. The week had been gruelling for him, three individual witnessed the altercation between himself and you. It had spread like wildfire, but thanking the Gods that no one was able to listen to the conversation.

He had to endure most of the questioning. In everyone's eyes, he was, after all, still under everyone's constant scrutiny. A man that no one could trust. But he refused to say a single word knowing you did the same thing. It was better to keep your mouth shut instead of letting people know exactly what had happened. Somehow that brought a smile on his face. He might not share a future with you, but might as well make the most out of making your life a living hell, as much you did it to him.

Shutting the book he was barely even reading, he placed the book back into the shelf before walking his way towards the meeting room.

He could easily teleport, but he preferred to enjoy his moments of peace without his oaf of a brother breathing down his neck or Stark constantly testing his patience with his quips. It also gave him a moment to school his features, he knew well enough about the mission to know you would also be in attendance. Be more invested in this mission than anyone else.

It was a few things he was relearning about you now that you were out in the open as everyone claims you to be. You were a free spirited being that could meld with anyone you were in the area with. He had watched you throw relentless jabs at Tony during your first few days that had the man surprisingly raise a white flag. But the most dangerous thing he had to learn was the familial relationship you had with one Natasha Romanoff and Clint Burton, two people that he kept his distance with the most.

"Professor Snape has finally graced us with his presence."

Loki has learned since joining the team to choose his battle when it comes to Tony. This was one of those moment. Finding a vacant chair besides his brother, he had taken his seat. A big mistake on his part as he finds from across the table, you sat. In between a glaring Romanoff and Barton.

Wearing a smirk, just to get on the two super spies' nerve, he turned his attention right back into the meeting. He begins formulating a few little schemes to not only get on the two's nerved, but most especially yours.

[kdramabrainrotstation]

Can i have your thoughts on Yohan having suicidal tendencies? I have never seen him that way but some people do. For me Yohan has always wanted to live, although he's not afraid of dying. Man has back up plan after back up plan to come out alive and on top. Am I missing something?

i don't suppose i've ever seen anything about this before. i'm surprised, honestly. i never once considered that yohan might have suicidal tendencies.

obvious cw for the topic of suicide here guys--you have been warned.

the short answer here is that i agree with you one hundred percent, and i have a lot of reasons for that. but i'll start with the other viewpoint first.

i imagine there could be a couple of different reasons for it. the first, and i'm guessing the most obvious, is the amount of trauma he's been through and the lack of faith he has in humanity. leaving gaon with an assignment that basically says 'your job isn't over, the system still hasn't been corrected' makes that much clear. yohan made his point but he already knew it was going to be recognized as a heinous form of retaliation rather than a message.

i'll definitely agree that because of everything he's gone through, he lives in a perpetual state of suffering. the kang mansion is a swirling vortex of bad memories, and he's constantly haunted by remembering his upbringing there. being in the study and all-but reliving the abuse he suffered as a child. in the bedroom, he dreams of his brother and the fire at the church. every time he sees minister cha or president heo or any of the other chaebols, he's reminded of how greedy and disgusting they have always been. while i personally don't think that would push him to suicide, i can see why it might be perceived that way.

another reason might be how self-sacrificing his behavior has looked at times. kang yohan is by no means reckless or impulsive, but he gives off that energy sometimes. racing alongside youngmin and then cutting him off under the blind assumption he wouldn't be hit. faking his death when he was arrested. most notably, the big scene he puts on at the end about blowing himself up with all the other rich people...definitely gives off the energy of someone who doesn't really care if they die.

maybe there are other reasons, but these are the only possibilities i could imagine.

personally, i don't think yohan has suicidal tendencies. i think that he has a darker outlook on life, but i also think yohan would see suicide as illogical. more importantly, the biggest reason i feel he wouldn't actually do anything suicidal:

elijah.

whether or not she shows it outright, elijah loves Yohan dearly. It's understandable why she found him suspicious at the beginning of the show, but he was obviously good to her before the fire--good enough that she went running for him to try and talk him into joining them in the church. that she lit up like a damn christmas tree every time he smiled at her. it's obvious he adores her. not only is she incredibly bright and intelligent for her age, but there isn't a doubt in my mind that isaac kept yohan very involved in her life up until his death. on top of that, she's like an extension of isaac in both blood and personality, and isaac had truly been the ray of light shining down upon him through the dark clouds encircling his life.

he has to stay alive for her. his whole plan at the end of the show was to fake his death for real and disappear to another country where he and elijah could focus just on her. where he could finally give her all the attention she both needs and deserves, and to start making up for years of time he'd made her feel alone following her father's death.

yohan is all she has left of her family.

second, gaon. whether you ship gahan or not, you can't deny that gaon quickly became a vital part of yohan's existence, and the other way around. gaon imported warmth and kindness into a home that had been bitterly cold for far too long. he set aside the opinions of others (the priest he visited at the beginning, often soohyun and jungho as well) in favor of trying to understand yohan. he taught yohan the importance of shared meals and all-but embraced elijah as a part of his life. he included ms. ji and made nights in that mansion bearable. on top of that, he learned to love yohan with all of his heart.

i find it difficult to imagine he would purposefully leave all of that behind.

kang yohan is very logic-driven, too. i can't imagine he would see the point in giving up like that. after all he's done over the years, it would feel like throwing all of that away. things are supposed to get better once he and elijah run away. he's very clearly looking forward to spending time with her in switzerland. he's also very clearly looking forward to seeing what gaon can do with the crumbs he left behind. both very good reasons to stay alive.

and lastly but certainly not least, yohan killing himself would greatly disappoint isaac, and even following his death, yohan very heavily considers his brother's viewpoint on things. isaac, even as a young boy, had fought for yohan to survive. ending all of that in a suicide would be a slap in the face. or at the very least, yohan would interpret it that way.

in conclusion, i definitely don't see yohan as having suicidal tendencies. he has suffered a great deal of trauma, has ptsd, and doesn't exactly has a glass-half-full impression on things, but he's not suicidal.