at0m-b0mb-baby

[at0m-b0mb-baby]

Viktor x Reader NSFW headcanons

warnings: NSFW and afab reader

♡ Hands and fingers

Just take a look at this mans hand, call me Yoshikage Kira. Viktor knows damn well on how to use his hands and fingers. His fingers are long and dexterous, skilled from years of working with machinery and he applies this precision to you. A literal master at fingering, knows exactly where your most sensitive spots are and uses it to his advantage. He will start soft and slowly, lightly teasing/stroking, drawing out your pleasure until you’re practically begging him for more.

♡ Oral

Viktor takes an almost scientific delight in giving oral. When eating you out he will suck on your clit and say “There’s over 8,000 nerve endings in this spot, my sweet”. He loves giving more than receiving as your pleasure comes first to him, but he most certainly won’t refuse a blowjob! and I tell you this man is packing so hope you have a good gag reflex.

♡ Dynamics

While not being overly controlling in the bedroom, Viktor takes a more Soft Dominant role, taking charge in a way that makes you feel safe and cared for. He’s firm but extremely gentle, guiding you with softly-spoken commands like “stay still for me my sweet” or “I want to hear you”.

♡ Body Worship

No matter your size Viktor loves you. Big boobs? he’s putting his cock between them. Small boobs? Guess what? he’s also putting his cock between them. He’s so utterly captivated by your body no matter the size. Every curve, scar and your view of imperfection he admires, You’re a masterpiece in his eyes.

♡ Passionate Intimacy

For Viktor it’s about quality time. He loves taking time with you, ensuring every touch and movement builds anticipation. Every touch, thrust and kiss leaves you breathless.

♡ size CANON

Do I need to explain? even though he’s quite slim and lankey, his cock is above average that touches all the right spots, if you aren’t careful you’re getting a bruised cervix

[at0m-b0mb-baby]

The unspoken truth

viktor x mage!reader

| part of a series, angsty in this chapter but it will get better I promise

re-uploaded

part 2: (wip)

2.5k words

The dim glow of Hextech light flickered in Viktor’s workshop, painting the room in a soft, golden hue. You leaned against a workbench piled with scattered blueprints and tools, your gaze fixed on Viktor as he moved through the space. His cane tapped against the floor in an uneven rhythm, the sound mingling with the faint hum of machinery.

It was always mesmerizing to watch him work. His hands were steady and precise, moving with an almost mechanical efficiency. But tonight, something was different.

He seemed distracted.

You noticed the way his fingers lingered too long on the edges of the device he was repairing. The subtle tension in his shoulders. The way his eyes flicked toward you every few minutes, only to dart back to his work when he caught you looking.

“Viktor?” you asked gently, breaking the silence.

He froze for a moment, his back to you. Then, he sighed and set the tool in his hand down with more care than usual. When he turned, his amber eyes met yours, and you could see the hesitation in them—a rare sight. Viktor was a man of conviction, always sure of his thoughts, his words, his actions. But now, he looked… uncertain.

“Miláček,” he said softly, his voice laced with his thick accent, though it lacked its usual confidence. “There is something I must tell you.”

The way he said it made your heart tighten. You straightened, a faint hum of wild magic stirring under your skin in response to the unease settling in your chest. “What is it?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He hesitated again, his fingers curling around the head of his cane for support. “It is… difficult to say,” he admitted, his brows furrowing deeply. “But I have waited long enough. I owe you the truth.”

Your stomach churned, but you nodded, urging him to continue.

He exhaled sharply, like a man prepared to be shot. “I am dying.”

The words hit you like a physical force, stealing the breath from your lungs. For a moment, you could only stare at him, waiting for some sign that he was joking, that this was some cruel misunderstanding. But Viktor didn’t look away. He held your gaze, his expression resigned and heavy with the weight of his admission.

“No…” you breathed, shaking your head. “No… you can’t you’re not-” She couldn’t even get her words out properly a stammering and stuttering mess.

“I am.” His voice was quiet, but firm. He reached out, his hand brushing against yours. “I have known for some time. My condition… It has progressed beyond what science can repair.”

Tears stung your eyes as his words sunk in. You grabbed his hand, gripping it like he’s going to fade away, as. “Viktor,” you whispered, your voice breaking. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

His gaze softened, and for the first time, you saw something you almost never saw in him—fear. “Because I did not want to burden you,” he admitted. “You are… everything to me. The thought of leaving you-” He stopped himself, shaking his head. “I could not bear with it.”

“Well, too late for that!” you snapped, though your voice cracked with emotion. “Viktor, you’re the one who’s dying, and you were worried about me? And please… please don’t call yourself a burden, you are nothing of the sort!.”

He tilted his head slightly, his lips curling into a faint, bittersweet smile. “Yes,” he said simply.

The raw honesty of his answer left you momentarily speechless.

But then, something shifted inside youaa surge of determination that burned hot and wild, like the magic in your veins. You stood straighter, letting go of his hand to wipe at your tears. “No,” you said firmly. “This isn’t over. I won’t let you just-just give up!”

His brow furrowed. “This is not something you can fix, miláček.”

“Don’t underestimate me,” you shot back. “If science can’t save you, then I’ll find something that can. Magic. I have read about ancient mages that can heal sickness. If they can do it, I can learn.”

He shook his head, his expression pained. “You cannot fix everything with magic, my love.”

“Maybe not,” you admitted. “But I can still try even if it’s the death of me.”

The next day, you ventured onward. Your path was set, even as doubt gnawed at you. If there was even the faintest hope of saving Viktor, you had to try. The thought of him—his soft voice calling you sweet names, his careful hands brushing yours in quiet moments, his unyielding determination to improve the world gave you the strength to leave. But it didn’t silence the fear that churned in your chest.

The ship was weathered and cramped, its crew brusque and disinterested in your presence. They ushered you into a small cabin that smelled of salt and mildew, barely large enough to hold the narrow bed and a rickety table pushed against the wall. The grime-streaked window offered little light, and the faint creak of the ship settling in the water was the only sound.

You dropped your bag onto the bed, your shoulders heavy. Your eyes caught on a small vase atop the table, holding what might once have been a bouquet of flowers. Their petals hung lifeless, browned and curled, the stems brittle and drooping over the rim.

Something about their frailty twisted in your chest.

You reached out, brushing a withered petal with your fingertips. It crumbled under your touch, scattering into tiny flakes.

Without thinking, your magic stirred. Purple light glimmered faintly around your hand, the energy coiling through your fingers like smoke. It flowed into the flowers, weaving through the decay and coaxing it away.

In moments, the transformation was complete. The bouquet stood tall and vibrant once more, soft pink peonies blooming as if they had just been plucked from a garden. The sight was beautiful, almost painfully so.

For a brief moment, you smiled. But the smile faltered as reality crashed back over you.

Your hand hovered above the flowers, trembling. “I can heal this,” you murmured, your voice shaking. “I can heal flowers. I can mend scratches and cuts. I can close wounds.”

The words grew louder, tumbling from your lips faster than you could stop them.

“But I can’t fix him!”

The last word broke into a sob. You stumbled back, your knees hitting the edge of the bed as your breathing hitched. Tears blurred your vision as you pressed your hands to your face.

“Why? Why can’t I fix him?”

The question echoed in your mind, over and over, growing louder with each repetition. Your breaths came in sharp, shallow gasps, your chest heaving as the room seemed to tilt and blur around you.

Your magic flared uncontrollably, sparking from your fingers and racing through the air like wild lightning. The ship groaned beneath you, the wood trembling as though responding to your anguish. The table rattled, its legs scraping against the floor, and the window shattered outward with a deafening crash.

“Stop,” you whispered, clutching your head as the sound of your own voice became too much. “Stop. Stop. Stop!”

But it wouldn’t stop. The pressure in your chest built until it felt like you couldn’t breathe, the air clawing at your lungs but refusing to fill them. Your hands trembled violently, and your magic surged, making the room ripple with an unnatural hum.

“I can’t, I-….” you choked out, the words barely audible. “I can’t do this!”

Your breath came in short, desperate gasps, each one cutting through you like a knife. The pounding of your heartbeat filled your ears, drowning out the creaks and groans of the ship.

You curled into yourself, pulling your knees to your chest and pressing your forehead against them. “Please,” you whispered, though you weren’t sure who you were begging—yourself, the universe, or some unknown force that might be listening. “Please, just let me breathe.”

The ship rocked violently beneath you, the waves slamming against its hull as if matching the storm inside you.

And then, finally, it stopped.

Your magic fizzled out, the purple light dissipating into nothingness. The shaking ceased, leaving the room eerily still. Shards of glass glittered on the floor, reflecting the dim light from the broken window.

You forced yourself to breathe—slow, measured breaths that felt like they scraped against raw wounds. The air was too thick, too heavy, but you forced it into your lungs anyway.

Tears still streamed down your face as you stared at the shattered window, the bouquet of flowers untouched amidst the wreckage.

“What good is this magic?” you whispered hoarsely, your voice shaking. “What good is it if I can’t save him?”

The words echoed in the silence, their weight sinking into your chest.

You crawled into the bed, wrapping your arms around yourself into a fetal position as the exhaustion of the day finally caught up with you. The sound of the waves outside lulled you into an uneasy sleep, but even in your dreams, the pain of your helplessness lingered.

[at0m-b0mb-baby]

Viktor x GN! reader relationship headcanons

| warnings: pure fluff and love

♡ Mornings

Viktor isn’t too much a morning person, but he loves waking up beside you. He often watches you for a few quiet moments before the day begins, soaking in the peacefulness of your shared space. Occasionally, you’ll catch him in the act and he’ll chuckle, softly murmuring something about how adorable you look when you’re still half-asleep

♡ subtile gestures of effectiom

He’s not one for grand displays of PDA but makes up for it with small, thoughtful touches. A hand on your back when you’re working, kiss on the cheek, or his fingers ghosting over yours when you sit together. These fleeting moments mean everything to him.

♡ working

Viktor often gets lost in his research, so you’ve made it your mission to ensure he doesn’t overwork himself. You bring him tea, remind him to eat, and sometimes drag him away for a break. He pretends to protest but secretly loves how much you care. On particularly long nights, you’ll join him, keeping him company with a book or light chatter, and he finds comfort in the quiet companionship.

♡ Comforting Him

When his work frustrates him or his health takes a toll, you’re his safe person. You’ll sit beside him, holding his hand and reminding him of his worth beyond his inventions. He doesn’t always respond immediately, but the way he leans into your presence says everything.

♡ humorous interactions

You tease him about his tendency to forget the world when he’s working. “Should I start sending you formal invitations just to have dinner with me?” you joke, and he responds with a smirk, “If you make them compelling enough, I’ll consider.” His dry humor often catches you off guard, and it’s one of the many things you adore about him.

♡ pet names

Viktor likes classy and not too overly sweet nicknames. He has a fondness for calling you names in his native tongue his favourite being Miláčku (darling). The words always carry a weight of affection that leaves you smiling.

♡ Unspoken Understanding

Sometimes, neither of you needs to say much. When he’s deep in thought, you’ll quietly slide a cup of tea onto his desk, and he’ll give you a soft, grateful smile. Other times, he’ll rest his hand lightly on your shoulder as he passes by, grounding you both without a word.

♡ Celebrating Achievements

When something goes right in his research, you’re the first person he tells. His eyes light up, and he stumbles over his words trying to explain it. Even if you don’t fully understand, your excitement mirrors his, and he treasures how you celebrate even his smallest victories.

♡ Playful Intimacy

Though usually serious, Viktor has a playful streak that comes out when you least expect it. He’ll lightly poke fun at you for mispronouncing a scientific term or challenge you to chess during a quiet evening, pretending to be annoyed when you win. It’s these little moments that make your bond so special.

♡ Quiet Nights

After long days, the two of you often wind down with soft candlelight, quiet music, and conversation. He loves hearing you talk about your day, your dreams, and anything else on your mind. For Viktor, these evenings are his sanctuary, where the weight of the world fades away.

♡ Sudden Passion

Though typically reserved, Viktor occasionally surprises you with bursts of affection. He’ll pull you close for an unexpected kiss or take your hands in his and tell you how much you mean to him. His words are rare but carry an intensity that makes your heart race.

[at0m-b0mb-baby]

☆ navigation ☆

an enjoyer of many medias and simpler things. i sometimes write and feel free to request things! other pleasures include collecting sylvanian families and vintage dolls. also a lover of musical theatre and fashion.

fandoms i write for: lol/arcane, overwatch, fallout, team fortress 2, cuphead, detroit become human and hetalia.

requests are currently: open

recent works:

unspoken truth machine

herald viktor x reader

blind betrayal paladin danse x reader

[at0m-b0mb-baby]

Reference

[at0m-b0mb-baby]

The unspoken truth

Machine herold Viktor x mage! reader

a mix of LOL and Arcane lore.

part 2 (wip)

tw: angst

2.5k words

The dim glow of Hextech light flickered in Viktor’s workshop, painting the room in a soft, golden hue. You leaned against a workbench piled with scattered blueprints and tools, your gaze fixed on Viktor as he moved through the space. His cane tapped against the floor in an uneven rhythm, the sound mingling with the faint hum of machinery.

It was always mesmerizing to watch him work. His hands were steady and precise, moving with an almost mechanical efficiency. But tonight, something was different.

He seemed distracted.

You noticed the way his fingers lingered too long on the edges of the device he was repairing. The subtle tension in his shoulders. The way his eyes flicked toward you every few minutes, only to dart back to his work when he caught you looking.

“Viktor?” you asked gently, breaking the silence.

He froze for a moment, his back to you. Then, he sighed and set the tool in his hand down with more care than usual. When he turned, his amber eyes met yours, and you could see the hesitation in them—a rare sight. Viktor was a man of conviction, always sure of his thoughts, his words, his actions. But now, he looked… uncertain.

“Miláček,” he said softly, his voice laced with his thick accent, though it lacked its usual confidence. “There is something I must tell you.”

The way he said it made your heart tighten. You straightened, a faint hum of wild magic stirring under your skin in response to the unease settling in your chest. “What is it?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He hesitated again, his fingers curling around the head of his cane for support. “It is… difficult to say,” he admitted, his brows furrowing deeply. “But I have waited long enough. I owe you the truth.”

Your stomach churned, but you nodded, urging him to continue.

He exhaled sharply, like a man prepared to be shot. “I am dying.”

The words hit you like a physical force, stealing the breath from your lungs. For a moment, you could only stare at him, waiting for some sign that he was joking, that this was some cruel misunderstanding. But Viktor didn’t look away. He held your gaze, his expression resigned and heavy with the weight of his admission.

“No…” you breathed, shaking your head. “No… you can’t you’re not-” She couldn’t even get her words out properly a stammering and stuttering mess.

“I am.” His voice was quiet, but firm. He reached out, his hand brushing against yours. “I have known for some time. My condition… It has progressed beyond what science can repair.”

Tears stung your eyes as his words sunk in. You grabbed his hand, gripping it like he’s going to fade away, as. “Viktor,” you whispered, your voice breaking. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

His gaze softened, and for the first time, you saw something you almost never saw in him—fear. “Because I did not want to burden you,” he admitted. “You are… everything to me. The thought of leaving you-” He stopped himself, shaking his head. “I could not bear with it.”

“Well, too late for that!” you snapped, though your voice cracked with emotion. “Viktor, you’re the one who’s dying, and you were worried about me? And please… please don’t call yourself a burden, you are nothing of the sort!.”

He tilted his head slightly, his lips curling into a faint, bittersweet smile. “Yes,” he said simply.

The raw honesty of his answer left you momentarily speechless.

But then, something shifted inside youaa surge of determination that burned hot and wild, like the magic in your veins. You stood straighter, letting go of his hand to wipe at your tears. “No,” you said firmly. “This isn’t over. I won’t let you just-just give up!”

His brow furrowed. “This is not something you can fix, miláček.”

“Don’t underestimate me,” you shot back. “If science can’t save you, then I’ll find something that can. Magic. I have read about ancient mages that can heal sickness. If they can do it, I can learn.”

He shook his head, his expression pained. “You cannot fix everything with magic, my love.”

“Maybe not,” you admitted. “But I can still try even if it’s the death of me.”

The next day, you ventured onward. Your path was set, even as doubt gnawed at you. If there was even the faintest hope of saving Viktor, you had to try. The thought of him—his soft voice calling you sweet names, his careful hands brushing yours in quiet moments, his unyielding determination to improve the world gave you the strength to leave. But it didn’t silence the fear that churned in your chest.

The ship was weathered and cramped, its crew brusque and disinterested in your presence. They ushered you into a small cabin that smelled of salt and mildew, barely large enough to hold the narrow bed and a rickety table pushed against the wall. The grime-streaked window offered little light, and the faint creak of the ship settling in the water was the only sound.

You dropped your bag onto the bed, your shoulders heavy. Your eyes caught on a small vase atop the table, holding what might once have been a bouquet of flowers. Their petals hung lifeless, browned and curled, the stems brittle and drooping over the rim.

Something about their frailty twisted in your chest.

You reached out, brushing a withered petal with your fingertips. It crumbled under your touch, scattering into tiny flakes.

Without thinking, your magic stirred. Purple light glimmered faintly around your hand, the energy coiling through your fingers like smoke. It flowed into the flowers, weaving through the decay and coaxing it away.

In moments, the transformation was complete. The bouquet stood tall and vibrant once more, soft pink peonies blooming as if they had just been plucked from a garden. The sight was beautiful, almost painfully so.

For a brief moment, you smiled. But the smile faltered as reality crashed back over you.

Your hand hovered above the flowers, trembling. “I can heal this,” you murmured, your voice shaking. “I can heal flowers. I can mend scratches and cuts. I can close wounds.”

The words grew louder, tumbling from your lips faster than you could stop them.

“But I can’t fix him!”

The last word broke into a sob. You stumbled back, your knees hitting the edge of the bed as your breathing hitched. Tears blurred your vision as you pressed your hands to your face.

“Why? Why can’t I fix him?”

The question echoed in your mind, over and over, growing louder with each repetition. Your breaths came in sharp, shallow gasps, your chest heaving as the room seemed to tilt and blur around you.

Your magic flared uncontrollably, sparking from your fingers and racing through the air like wild lightning. The ship groaned beneath you, the wood trembling as though responding to your anguish. The table rattled, its legs scraping against the floor, and the window shattered outward with a deafening crash.

“Stop,” you whispered, clutching your head as the sound of your own voice became too much. “Stop. Stop. Stop!”

But it wouldn’t stop. The pressure in your chest built until it felt like you couldn’t breathe, the air clawing at your lungs but refusing to fill them. Your hands trembled violently, and your magic surged, making the room ripple with an unnatural hum.

“I can’t, I-….” you choked out, the words barely audible. “I can’t do this!”

Your breath came in short, desperate gasps, each one cutting through you like a knife. The pounding of your heartbeat filled your ears, drowning out the creaks and groans of the ship.

You curled into yourself, pulling your knees to your chest and pressing your forehead against them. “Please,” you whispered, though you weren’t sure who you were begging—yourself, the universe, or some unknown force that might be listening. “Please, just let me breathe.”

The ship rocked violently beneath you, the waves slamming against its hull as if matching the storm inside you.

And then, finally, it stopped.

Your magic fizzled out, the purple light dissipating into nothingness. The shaking ceased, leaving the room eerily still. Shards of glass glittered on the floor, reflecting the dim light from the broken window.

You forced yourself to breathe—slow, measured breaths that felt like they scraped against raw wounds. The air was too thick, too heavy, but you forced it into your lungs anyway.

Tears still streamed down your face as you stared at the shattered window, the bouquet of flowers untouched amidst the wreckage.

“What good is this magic?” you whispered hoarsely, your voice shaking. “What good is it if I can’t save him?”

The words echoed in the silence, their weight sinking into your chest.

You crawled into the bed, wrapping your arms around yourself into a fetal position as the exhaustion of the day finally caught up with you. The sound of the waves outside lulled you into an uneasy sleep, but even in your dreams, the pain of your helplessness lingered.

[at0m-b0mb-baby]

Blind Betrayal

| Paladin Danse x gn Sole Survivor!reader

warnings: slight angst since it follows danse’s storyline and also some fluff!

The walls of the Prydwen’s command deck were suffocating, the air heavy with tension and judgment. SS stood in front of Elder Maxson, their heart pounding in their chest as they tried to process the words that had just left his mouth.

“Paladin Danse is a synth,” Maxson said, his voice a steely blade cutting through the silence. “A product of the Institute, hiding among us as a spy, a traitor.”

They couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak. The words felt like a bullet to the chest, each one more impossible to believe than the last. Danse, a synth? It didn’t make sense. It couldn’t make sense. Danse had been their steadfast companion since the beginning, a man of unwavering loyalty and conviction. He was the embodiment of everything the Brotherhood stood for, wasn’t he?

Elder Maxson’s gaze didn’t waver as he continued. “This is a betrayal of the highest order. The Institute has manipulated us, infiltrated us, and Danse—whether knowingly or not—has been a part of that. He must be eliminated.”

SS finally found their voice, though it felt weak and unsteady. “You’re ordering me to… to kill him?”

Maxson leaned forward, his expression unrelenting. “Do not think of this as a personal matter, Knight. This is about the survival of the Brotherhood. Danse is a danger to us all. He must be dealt with immediately.”

Their mind raced, a thousand questions and emotions colliding at once. “And if I refuse?”

Maxson’s lip curled, his patience thinning. “You swore an oath to the Brotherhood. If you refuse, you will be considered complicit in his treachery and will be dealt with accordingly. Am I clear?”

The room felt as though it were spinning, the cold metal walls closing in around them. They swallowed hard and nodded, the motion automatic and detached. “Yes, Elder Maxson. Understood.”

The air outside the Prydwen was harsh and biting, the wind whipping against their face as they descended the ramp. They clutched their laser rifle tightly, though their grip was more out of habit than necessity. Each step felt heavier than the last, the enormity of what they’d been ordered to do pressing down on them like a physical weight.

Danse was hiding in a remote bunker, his location shared with them by one of Maxson’s operatives. It wasn’t far—a short vertibird ride to the wilderness just outside Listening Post Bravo. The journey passed in a blur, the thrum of the engines doing little to drown out the storm in their mind.

When they arrived, they disembarked alone, their boots crunching against the frost-covered ground. The bunker was nondescript, a squat building nestled against the side of a rocky hill. Its entrance was marked only by a rusting steel door, faintly lit by the pale glow of the overhead lamps.

Taking a deep breath, they approached, their fingers trembling as they punched in the access code Maxson had provided. The door creaked open, revealing a dimly lit interior. The air inside was damp and stale, and the faint hum of a generator echoed through the narrow corridor.

Danse was waiting for them in the main chamber. He stood without his power armor, his broad frame towering in the low light. Without the imposing bulk of the T-60 plates, he looked more vulnerable, though no less commanding. His muscular form was clad in a simple Brotherhood jumpsuit, the snug fabric showing the strength of his build—broad shoulders, powerful arms, and a chest that rose and fell heavily as he watched them approach.

He looked impossibly tired, dark shadows under his brown eyes. His jaw was clean-shaven, revealing the sharp, chiseled angles of his face. His short, dark hair was slightly tousled, no longer perfectly groomed as it had always been in the field. For all his weariness, his posture was still straight, his bearing still noble, even in the face of what awaited him.

When he saw them, his expression hardened, though there was no hostility in his gaze. Only resignation.

“You’ve come,” he said, his deep voice steady despite the circumstances. “I knew Maxson would send someone. I didn’t expect it to be you.”

They froze, unsure of how to respond. The sight of him, so raw and unguarded, made their heart ache. This was Danse, the man who had been their anchor through the chaos of the wasteland. How could he be anything else?

“I…” They hesitated, their voice faltering. “Danse, is it true? Are you…?”

He nodded solemnly, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. “I am. A synth. An abomination created by the Institute.” He spoke the words as though they were poison on his tongue. “Elder Maxson’s orders are clear. I am to be terminated.”

“Stop,” they interrupted, their voice trembling. “Just… stop.”

He frowned, his brows furrowing deeply. “You don’t have to sugarcoat it for my sake, Knight. I know what I am, and I know what must be done. I only ask that you make it quick.”

“Danse, I—” They faltered, the weight of the moment pressing down on their chest. “I don’t understand. You didn’t know you were a synth, did you?”

“No,” he admitted, his voice heavy with shame. “I didn’t. My memories… my convictions… they all felt real. I believed in the Brotherhood, in our mission, with every fiber of my being. But now I see it was all a lie. A machine can’t believe in anything. A machine can’t feel.” He shook his head, his jaw tightening. “I betrayed the Brotherhood just by existing. And I betrayed you.”

“You didn’t betray me,” they said fiercely, stepping closer. Their hands trembled at their sides, but they didn’t dare reach for him. Not yet. “Danse, you didn’t ask for this. None of this is your fault.”

He turned away, his shoulders slumping. Without the armor, he seemed smaller, the weight of his self-loathing bearing down on him. “Fault doesn’t matter. I am what I am. And what I am is a threat to everything we stand for.”

They took another step forward, their voice softening. “What about what we’ve been through? Everything we’ve done together—was that a lie too?”

His head snapped up, his eyes meeting theirs. For a moment, he seemed to falter, the carefully constructed walls around him cracking. “No,” he said hoarsely. “None of it was a lie. Every battle, every mission… every moment we spent together was real to me. But that doesn’t change what I am.”

They felt a lump rise in their throat. “And what are you, Danse? Tell me.”

He hesitated, his gaze dropping to the floor. “I am a machine,” he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. “A soulless construct built to mimic humanity.”

They shook their head, their voice rising with emotion. “No. You’re more than that. You’re Danse. The man who’s fought by my side, who’s risked his life for mine, who’s always put others before himself. That’s who you are.”

“Why are you saying this?” he asked, his voice breaking. “Why are you defending me? I don’t deserve it.”

“Because I love you,” they said, the words spilling out before they could stop them.

Danse froze, his eyes wide with shock. For a moment, it seemed as though the world had stopped, the silence between them deafening.

“You… what?” he finally managed, his voice unsteady.

“I love you,” they repeated, their voice trembling but resolute. “I don’t care what the Brotherhood says, or what Maxson thinks, or even what you think you are. To me, you’re not a machine. You’re the man I trust with my life. The man I—” They broke off, their voice catching on a sob. “The man I can’t lose.”

He stared at them, his expression unreadable. Then, slowly, he stepped forward, his broad hands lifting to cup their face with a surprising gentleness. His touch was warm, his calloused fingers trembling slightly.

“You… love me?” he whispered, as if the words were too foreign to comprehend.

They nodded, tears streaming down their face. “Yes. I love you, Danse. I always have.”

His eyes softened, and for a moment, he simply stared at them, his gaze filled with a mixture of awe and disbelief. Then, before either of them could second-guess it, he leaned down and kissed them.

The kiss was tentative at first, his lips brushing against theirs as if afraid they might break. But when they didn’t pull away, he deepened it, his arms wrapping around them as though he never wanted to let go. They melted into him, their hands clutching at the fabric of his jumpsuit as they poured everything they couldn’t say into the kiss.

When they finally pulled apart, both of them were breathless, their foreheads resting together.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “But I swear, I will spend the rest of my life proving that I am worthy of your love.”

They smiled, their fingers brushing against his cheek. “You don’t have to prove anything, Danse. You already are.”

In that moment, the rest of the world faded away, leaving only the two of them there together.

[at0m-b0mb-baby]

THE GLORIOUS OVULATION

the chokehold this man has on me

[at0m-b0mb-baby]

that one april fools interaction they have with winston

[at0m-b0mb-baby]

Venture getting paired up with a new hero every 2 weeks

[at0m-b0mb-baby]

Y’all I don’t ship JayVik cause I want Viktor 🙂‍↕️

[at0m-b0mb-baby]

just finished the new episodes of arcane season 2...

cant wait for the 23rd

[at0m-b0mb-baby]

Flopping on tt so here

I love him sm

[at0m-b0mb-baby]

[at0m-b0mb-baby]

Any day now, Venture nation stay strong

[at0m-b0mb-baby]

Worth it 🪨 🍴

[at0m-b0mb-baby]

why did my fanfic flop