at0m-b0mb-baby

[at0m-b0mb-baby]

it’s hysterical seeing men pissing themselves over the fact there aren’t that many jinx x male reader fics boo fucking hoo!

[at0m-b0mb-baby]

Reblog to send Viktor a New Year’s kiss!! 😘

[at0m-b0mb-baby]

Sevika x Male Reader headcanons!

• She leaves you for a woman.

sf: https://www.tumblr.com/tonsillessscum/769541848758910976?source=share

[at0m-b0mb-baby]

The Administrator

[at0m-b0mb-baby]

do you have a robot f/o? (or AI, i use "robot" very loosely :P)

[at0m-b0mb-baby]

The Unspoken Truth

viktor x f!mage!reader

tag-list: @veru-boom @littleblackcatinwonderland @aise-30 @galactic-magick

part 2 of the series

part 1 here

5.5k words

The light in Viktor’s workshop seemed dimmer these days. Even the once-vivid Hextech core on his desk emitted a subdued hum, its glow a faint echo of its usual brilliance. Viktor sat at the edge of his chair, leaning heavily on his cane as his chest rose and fell in labored breaths. His amber eyes flicked to the corner where you once stood, offering him quiet company as he worked. The space felt emptier than ever.

He turned back to his desk, picking up a half-finished schematic for an adaptive prosthetic, a project he had abandoned days ago. His hands trembled as he held the paper, his strength failing him more with each passing hour.

His thoughts were consumed by you, his beloved... Memories of your laughter, the light in your eyes, and the way you challenged his rigid logic with wild, hopeful determination haunted him like a nightmare. You had always been the light to his darkness. But now, even that shine felt distant, like a star he could barely see on a foggy night.

Viktor let out a quiet sigh, his hand falling limp to his side. He wondered bitterly if you would even succeed. His logical mind told him it was impossible. No magic or science could halt the decay in his body. Yet the part of him that loved you, that fragile, human part, dared to hope, even as it hurt him to think of the toll your journey might take on you. Gods, please bring her back home to him...

The question lingered in his thoughts: What good was his brilliance if he could not share it with you?

A sudden knock at the workshop door broke his train of thought.

“Viktor?” Jayce’s voice called from outside. Without waiting for an invitation, the broad-shouldered man pushed the door open. His usual confidence was tempered by concern. He carried two mugs of tea, a small but meaningful gesture that Viktor immediately recognized as an attempt to lift his spirits.

“Jayce…” Viktor greeted, his voice raspier than usual. He set the creation down, knowing full well that Jayce would not let him return to it anytime soon.

Jayce’s imposing frame filled the doorway for a moment before he stepped inside. His eyes, usually bright with determination, now seemed heavy with worry. His presence brought an almost oppressive energy into the room, though his movements were gentle as he set a mug on Viktor’s cluttered desk. “You look terrible, Viktor. When was the last time you got some sleep?”

Viktor offered a humorless chuckle. “What need have I for sleep, when my body is wasting away regardless?” His gaunt features contorted into a faint smirk, but there was no humor behind it.

Jayce frowned, his jaw tightening. He folded his muscular arms over his chest, the slight tension in his stance betraying his frustration. “Don’t talk like that,” he said firmly. “We’ve been through worse together. You’ll figure something out. You always do.”

Viktor turned to meet his friend’s gaze, his amber eyes clouded with exhaustion and despair. The unwavering optimism in Jayce’s expression stirred something in him, a mix of frustration and gratitude. “Do you truly believe that, or is it merely easier to pretend?” His voice carried a sharp edge that had not been there before.

Jayce did not flinch. “I believe it,” he said, leaning forward with an intensity that matched his words. “You’re the smartest person I know, Viktor. And stubborn, too. You’ll push through this, just like you’ve pushed through everything else.”

Viktor shook his head, a bitter smile tugging at his lips. “Stubbornness is no match for entropy, Jayce. My mind remains sharp, but my body…” He gestured to himself, his thin, sickly frame a painful reminder of his condition. “It is no longer mine to control.”

The room fell into a heavy silence. Jayce’s eyes lingered on his friend, searching for something to say. Finally, he reached out and clasped Viktor’s shoulder.

“Then let me help,” Jayce said softly. “You don’t have to do this alone.”

Viktor’s gaze flicked to the hand on his shoulder. “You cannot carry this burden for me” he said, though his voice lacked the conviction it once held.

“Maybe not” Jayce admitted. “But I can carry it with you. You don’t have to drown in this, Viktor. Let me be your support you.”

Viktor swallowed hard, his throat tightening. He looked away, his eyes settling on the Hexcore glowing faintly on the desk. “There is no cure,” he murmured, more to himself than to Jayce. “No anchor will change that.”

Jayce sat back, his frustration evident in the way his shoulders stiffened. “And what about her?” he asked pointedly. “Are you going to give up on her too?”

The words struck Viktor like a blow. His chest ached, not from his illness but from the weight of his love for you. “She is the only reason I remain at all,” he admitted, his voice trembling. “But I fear… I fear I may never see her again.”

Jayce studied him for a long moment. “Then fight for her,” he said simply “If can’t do it for yourself, remember what you have. She’s one lucky woman to have you and you’re one hell of a lucky man!”

Viktor closed his eyes, leaning heavily against his cane. “I am tired of fighting, Jayce,” he said quietly. “But I will try… for her.”

Jayce nodded, his expression softening. “Atta boy.”

For a moment, the two sat in silence, the only sound the faint hum of machinery around them. Viktor sipped the tea Jayce had brought, the warmth of it a small comfort in the cold, unyielding grip of his reality.

As Jayce rose to leave, he paused at the door. “You’re not alone, Viktor,” he said. “Remember that, my friend.”

Viktor did not reply, but as the door closed, he let out a shaky breath. His thoughts returned to you, his beloved, and the faintest glimmer of hope flickered in the darkness.

If nothing else, he thought, he would hold on long enough to see you again.

The door clicked shut behind Jayce, leaving Viktor alone once more. The silence of the workshop wrapped around him like a heavy cloak, but his mind was far from still. The tea sat untouched on his desk, the faint steam curling upward dissipating into the cool air. His trembling hands reached for the nearest blueprint as though keeping busy might distract him from the ache in his chest, but the thin paper crumpled slightly under his grip.

His thoughts drifted away, unbidden, to you.

He could see your face as clearly as if you were standing before him. That sweet smile of yours- the one that lit up even the darkest corners of his life. It was a smile that seemed effortless, like sunlight spilling over a quiet morning. It warmed him in ways no machine or invention ever could, a balm to the chill of his ever-weakening body.

Your eyes were what held him most captive, though. They glowed with a quiet fire, as though the magic within you refused to remain dormant. Even in moments when your power was at rest, there was something radiant about them. They shimmered like sunlight dancing on water, and Viktor often found himself lost in their depths, wondering how someone like you could look at him with such tenderness.

He exhaled shakily, leaning forward and resting his forehead against his hand. He missed your laughter too, the sound bubbling up so effortlessly that it filled whatever room you were in. It was infectious, and no matter how bleak his mood, he found himself smiling whenever you laughed. It was a melody he could never forget, one that played endlessly in his memories, offering fleeting moments of solace in the face of his despair.

And your touch. Viktor’s free hand instinctively moved to his own, tracing the phantom sensation of your fingers brushing against his. He missed the way your hands, so warm and full of life, would hold his with such care, as though you were afraid he might break. Your touch was grounding, a tether that kept him from slipping into the abyss of his own thoughts. He longed for it now, more than he could ever put into words.

His lips parted as though he might speak your name, but his voice caught in his throat. He thought instead of your lips, soft and inviting, the memory of their touch against his a bittersweet echo. There was a time when your kisses had made him feel invincible, as though no sickness or weakness could ever take him. Now, he feared he might never feel them again.

The weight of that realization pressed down on him, stealing the air from his lungs. He stood, his cane trembling slightly under the strain of his grip, and crossed the room to where a small table stood against the wall. On it rested a framed photograph of you, Viktor took this while the two of you went on a beautiful nature retreat.

In the photo, you were looking as radiant as ever, you were holding a beautiful bouquet of flowers he decided to pick for you. Viktor couldn’t help but capture the moment. He traced the edge of the frame with his fingers, his chest tightening as the ache of your absence consumed him.

“Moje milá…” he murmured, the word barely audible in the stillness. “Oh how miss you.” he placed a chaste kiss upon the frame where your image appeared.

His vision blurred, and he set the frame down before his shaking hands could drop it. Slowly, he returned to his chair, lowering himself with more effort than he liked to admit. His eyes closed, and for a moment, he allowed himself to imagine you were there.

He could almost hear your voice, soft and full of conviction, telling him not to give up. He could picture you standing beside him, your hand resting on his arm, your presence a reminder of all the reasons he had to keep going.

But when he opened his eyes, the room was empty.

His heart sank, the void where you should have been feeling more oppressive than ever. He slumped forward, his cane leaning against his chair as he buried his face in his hands. “What good is my mind without you?” he whispered to himself, his voice cracking.

The loneliness was unbearable, but he knew he couldn’t let himself fall completely into despair. For you, his beloved, he would endure. He would wait. He would fight, even if every part of him screamed to give in.

Because you were worth it… You had always been worth it.

★✩———♡︎❤︎︎

The faint whisper of dawn broke across the horizon as you walked the winding path ahead, the cool air biting at your cheeks and pulling you further into wakefulness. The world around you was eerily still, the occasional rustle of leaves or snap of a twig beneath your boots the only sounds accompanying your journey. Despite the silence, your mind was far from quiet.

The dream from the night before played over and over in your thoughts, vivid and unsettlingly clear.

She had been beautiful, the woman in your dream. Her presence was striking in a way that words could never quite capture. Her hair was the color of midnight, cascading down her shoulders in soft waves that gleamed with an almost otherworldly luster. But it was her eyes that you couldn’t forget. Burning crimson, like molten rubies, they were piercing and unrelenting as they held your gaze. They weren’t cruel or cold, but alive, filled with a strange, knowing warmth that unsettled and comforted you all at once.

Her voice lingered in your memory, rich and sweet like honey laced with something sharper beneath the surface. Every word she spoke carried a weight far greater than their meaning alone.

“You seek to heal what is broken” she had said, her tone smooth and melodic, commanding in a way that left no room for doubt. “There is a place, forgotten by most, where the veil between life and death grows thin. There, you will find what you need. Beware, for all answers come with a price.”

You had tried to ask her more, to question what she meant, but her crimson gaze silenced you. She continued as though she could already see the questions forming in your mind.

“Follow your heart,” she had said. The words lingered in the air like a soft caress. “It will lead you to the path, as it has brought you to me. Do not falter, and do not fear. You have strength greater than you know.”

The memory of her gaze locked onto yours made you shiver now, as though her eyes still watched you from some unseen distance. Even in the waking world, her words pulsed in your chest like a heartbeat, impossible to ignore.

You hadn’t planned this journey. You had no map, no guide. When you set out, you told yourself you were following logic, searching for ancient texts or artifacts that might hold the answers Viktor needed. But now, after that dream, you knew that something else was guiding you.

Your gut churned with a mix of fear and determination. You had no proof that the dream meant anything, but your instincts, wild and unyielding as ever, told you otherwise. The woman’s words rang too clearly, her presence too vivid to be dismissed as mere fantasy.

The path you followed now was uneven and overgrown, twisting deeper into a dense forest where sunlight struggled to break through the thick canopy above. Every step felt purposeful, as though each twist and turn was drawing you closer to something unseen.

You could still feel the weight of her final words pressing against your chest.

“Remember, that not all healing mends what is broken. Some wounds must be carried, and some scars are meant to remain. Choose wisely when the time comes.”

Her voice had been softer then, tinged with an almost maternal kindness, though the weight of her warning was undeniable. It lingered in your mind now, making you question what she had meant.

What kind of price would you be asked to pay? What choices would you have to make?

You shook your head, clearing the doubt from your mind as best you could. Doubt was a luxury you couldn’t afford, not when Viktor’s life hung in the balance. Whatever lay at the end of this road, you would face it. For him, you would face anything.

Even now, the thought of him brought a bittersweet ache to your chest. You could see his face as clearly as if he were walking beside you, his amber eyes filled with warmth and pain in equal measure. The memory of his voice, soft and accented as he murmured your name, spurred you forward when your legs began to tire.

This path was uncertain, perhaps even dangerous, but it was the only one you could take.

As you stepped deeper into the forest, the air around you grew cooler, carrying with it the faintest hint of something unfamiliar. There was a scent you couldn’t quite place, like the sharp tang of ozone mingled with the earthy richness of damp soil. The world seemed to hold its breath, the quiet growing heavier with every step you took.

And so, you walked on, trusting your heart to lead you where you needed to go.

The forest seemed to thicken, the path narrowing until it felt like the trees were closing in around you. The air that had been alive with a strange, guiding energy now felt hollow and still. That feeling… the one that had tugged at your chest, pushing you forward with unshakable certainty was gone.

You stopped abruptly, frozen in place as dread seeped into your limbs. Turning slowly, you scanned the dense woods around you, searching for some sign, some direction. But the forest offered nothing. The path behind you was as indistinct as the one ahead, the faint sound of leaves rustling in the wind doing little to calm the storm brewing in your heart.

Your hand instinctively reached for the locket around your neck. You’d had it since you were a child, but for the longest time, it remained empty, waiting for something or someone worth carrying close to your heart.

It wasn’t until Viktor entered your life that you knew what belonged inside. Now, the locket held a picture of him, meticulously folded to fit within its delicate frame, and a single lock of his soft, golden-brown hair. The locket felt heavier than usual as you clutched it tightly, as though it bore the weight of your love and the fear threatening to crush you.

The silence of the forest became deafening. Without the pull of that guiding feeling, every step forward felt like a risk, every decision uncertain. The overwhelming doubt hit you like a tidal wave, and your legs gave out beneath you.

You sank to your knees on the damp earth, trembling as a flood of emotions spilled over, refusing to be contained any longer.

Viktor’s face filled your mind, so vivid it almost felt like he was standing before you. His amber eyes, sharp and calculating when he worked, would soften whenever they found yours. That softness had always undone you, as though you were glimpsing the fragile heart he so carefully guarded.

You remembered the way his hands felt against yours—cool, steady, and impossibly gentle. He had a precision to his touch, as if he knew exactly how much pressure to apply to avoid breaking something delicate. You’d never felt like anything in his life was as precious to him as you were.

His voice echoed in your thoughts, low and steady, carrying his thick accent that softened every word he spoke. You could almost hear him now, whispering sweet nothings and caressing your heart like it always had.

Tears welled in your eyes and spilled over, sliding down your cheeks as the memories kept coming. His rare, hesitant smile, the one you lived for, flickered in your mind. It was never quick or careless, it took its time, pulling at his lips in a way that made it seem like he wasn’t sure he deserved to be happy. But when he smiled at you, the world felt a little brighter, a little more bearable.

You pressed the locket to your lips, the cool metal grounding you even as your heart ached.

His laugh came next, soft and unassuming, but contagious enough to fill a room with warmth. You remembered the sound vividly, how it could light up even the darkest moments. Now, the memory of it only deepened the hollow ache in your chest.

You missed him. His voice, his touch, the way his amber eyes would glow with determination as he lost himself in his work. You missed the way his presence steadied you, like an anchor in a storm. Most of all, you missed the way he made you feel seen, as though your existence mattered to him more than anything else in the world.

The weight of it all became too much, and a sob wracked your body, shaking you to your core. You buried your face in your hands, the dampness of the earth soaking into your knees as your tears fell freely.

“I’m sorry, Viktor,” you whispered into the stillness, your voice breaking. “I’m trying. I’m trying so hard.”

The locket remained clutched tightly in your fist, a fragile reminder of the man who held your heart.

Your tears fell silently onto the earth, the cool air brushing against your skin as if to remind you that the world around you hadn’t stopped, even though your heart felt like it had shattered. You clutched the locket tighter, Viktor’s image vivid in your mind as the weight of your grief pressed down on you.

But then, you felt it again… a presence.

It wasn’t threatening, but it was powerful, unmistakable, and familiar in a way you couldn’t immediately place. The fine hairs on your arms stood on end, and you froze, your breath catching in your throat. A soft rustle behind you made you turn your head slowly, your tears momentarily forgotten.

Standing just a few feet away was a woman, a vision of haunting, almost ethereal beauty. She had long, raven-black hair that cascaded down her back in silky waves, shimmering faintly as though catching the light in ways the forest couldn’t possibly provide.

Her tall, slender frame was draped in a dark, flowing gown that swayed gently with each movement. She was effortlessly graceful, her every step seeming to float across the earth with such ease that it almost seemed like she was hovering. Her lips were full, painted in the faintest shade of crimson, and when she smiled, it was soft yet knowing, as though she was privy to secrets you had yet to understand.

She was beautiful, in a way that felt almost unreal. It wasn’t just her features but the air around her, an aura of calm, quiet power that drew you in, compelling your attention without any effort.

Your breath caught in your throat, and you instinctively took a step back, but before you could react further, she moved toward you.

Her hand reached out, and without hesitation, she placed it gently on your shoulder. The touch was warm, grounding, pulling you from the storm of your thoughts.

“You’ve so come far” she said, her voice rich and sweet, like honey. It wrapped around you, soothing and steady, yet carrying an undeniable weight.

You stared up at her, your mind spinning, trying to process what was happening. She looked familiar, her face hauntingly beautiful in a way you couldn’t fully place. Then it hit you. She was the woman from your dream, the one who had spoken to you, guiding you to this moment.

“It’s you…” you whispered, your voice trembling.

Her smile widened ever so slightly, her eyes softening. “Yes, sweetie. It’s me” she replied, her words gentle but certain. “You’ve done well to trust your heart and follow it here, but there is more yet to do.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but your throat felt dry, the words caught in your chest. She looked at you with a knowing calm, as if she could see every question you struggled to voice.

The woman looked down slightly, lowering herself to be closer to your level. Her gaze was steady, her eyes never leaving yours. “I know you carry a heavy burden, but the path ahead is not one you must walk alone. Trust your instincts, and you will find the answers you seek.”

You were silent, captivated by her presence, by the certainty in her voice. Something about her was familiar, as if you had known her for far longer than just a dream. The weight of your grief for Viktor, the uncertainty of everything you’d been searching for, seemed to fade just a little in the warmth of her gaze.

The woman’s gaze never wavered, her ruby eyes seeming to pierce through you with an understanding that felt both comforting and unsettling. A soft smile lingered on her lips as she withdrew her hand from your shoulder, her presence still radiating an almost tangible warmth.

“My name is Magnolia,” she said, her voice carrying a gentle authority, the name flowing from her lips like a melody. “And I have been waiting for you.”

The words struck a chord deep within, stirring something ancient and profound. You blinked, trying to grasp the gravity of the moment, the world around you feeling quieter, as though it were holding its breath. The mention of waiting for you, for someone like you, made your heart skip, but also set your mind racing with questions.

You took a breath, steadying yourself. There was no need to be afraid, not with this woman who felt so familiar, yet so unknown. Your instinct told you to trust her, just as you had trusted the path that led you here. Still, your voice caught in your throat as you spoke, trying to match the calm serenity that seemed to envelop her.

You introduced yourself but the words felt heavier than usual and Magnolia nodded once, a soft approval in her expression, as though she had known all along. “A beautiful name for a soul destined for great things,” she said, her voice warm and steady, grounding you in the quiet confidence of the moment.

The weight of her words settled over you, making your heart flutter slightly in your chest. Her gaze lingered on you, unwavering, as though she could see more than you were ready to reveal.

“You have questions,” she said, her voice dropping into a soft, knowing cadence. “Questions that I will answer, but first, you must understand this: you are not alone in this journey. There are forces greater than what you can see at play, and it is your heart that will guide you to the truth.”

Her eyes softened, watching you with something akin to compassion, as if she understood the turmoil within. You opened your mouth to speak, but she raised her hand in gentle command, quieting you without a word.

“Patience, please.” Magnolia whispered, her tone both soothing and firm. “The answers will come when you are ready.”

The days that followed were a blur of learning and practice. Magnolia took you under her wing, patiently guiding you through the basics of healing magic. She taught you to feel the pulse of life energy that ran through all things, how it flowed through the earth, the plants, and even the air itself. You learned how to connect with that flow, drawing upon it to mend the broken, the injured, and the weary.

It was challenging at first, as you struggled to focus and control the energy that surged within you. But with each passing day, you began to grasp the fundamentals, feeling the energy settle within your hands before channeling it into whatever needed healing. At first, it was small things: a scratch on your hand, a wilting flower. But then, Magnolia guided you to greater feats, showing you how to close deeper wounds, how to ease pain with a touch, how to coax life back into the fragile stems of dying plants.

The sensation was unlike anything you had ever felt before. Each time you healed, it was as though your own body hummed with the power of the world itself, the magic flowing through you with a strength that left you breathless. It was a strange, heady feeling—this connection to something larger, more ancient than you could comprehend.

Magnolia was impressed by your progress. She watched as you healed a small cut on your arm one afternoon, her gaze thoughtful as she observed the ease with which you manipulated the energy.

“You learn quickly,” she remarked, her tone filled with quiet admiration. “The magic seems to come naturally to you. It is rare to see someone with such raw talent.”

You smiled, feeling a sense of pride at her praise, but it was clear that she had seen something in you that went beyond mere skill. She had always been kind, guiding you with patience, but now, there was a flicker of something more—a deep respect, even awe. She seemed to recognize the potential within you before you did.

As you continued to train, you discovered a new aspect of your magic that seemed to surface on its own. You had always felt a strange connection to plants, as if they whispered to you when you were near them. Now, you realized it was more than just a passing intuition—it was magic. It came from the earth itself, and you could manipulate it in ways that were both powerful and delicate.

One afternoon, as you practiced with a small patch of withered vines, you reached out, your hands hovering just above the brittle stems. Your magic responded almost instinctively, a wave of energy that pulsed through your fingertips and into the ground below. The vines trembled for a moment, then began to stir. Slowly, they lifted, their leaves unfurling, vibrant and green, as though brought back to life.

Magnolia stood a few paces away, her eyes wide as she watched the transformation unfold. There was a flicker of surprise in her gaze before she gave a small nod of approval.

“Remarkable,” she said softly, her voice filled with awe. “You have a gift for plant magic—a connection to nature that I have not seen in good while. Your abilities go beyond just healing. You can command the life force of the earth itself. Remember that.”

You could hardly believe it. The plants had always felt alive to you, but to see them respond to your touch, to feel the energy flowing through them as you healed them, was something altogether different. It was a power unlike any you had ever known, a bond with the earth that was deep and unbreakable.

Magnolia smiled, a proud and knowing smile. “You are more than ready for what lies ahead,” she said. “The journey you are on will demand all of this—your strength, your connection to the world around you. It will not be easy, but you are capable of more than you know.”

Her words filled you with a sense of calm determination. You had come so far in such a short time, and now, it seemed that the path before you was clearer than ever. With Magnolia’s guidance, you were ready to face whatever trials awaited you, knowing that the magic within you was stronger than you had ever realized.

But there was still one thing that weighed heavily on your heart: Viktor. Every moment spent away from him felt like an eternity. Your magic had grown, but you knew that it wasn’t enough yet. You needed to find the cure. You needed to save him.

And with the newfound strength and knowledge you had gained, you would..

[at0m-b0mb-baby]

“I love you.” — Arcane

how the main cast say “I love you” ft, Jinx, Vi, Caitlyn, Jayce, Viktor, Ekko and Sevika.

Jinx

♡ Jinx would confess her love impulsively, likely in the middle of one of her chaotic activities. She’d blurt it out without much thought, then immediately try to brush it off as if it wasn’t a big deal.

♡ It would happen in a moment of manic excitement—maybe while building a new weapon or causing destruction together.

♡ “You know I… uh… I love you or whatever, okay?! Don’t make it weird!”

♡ After saying it, she’d pretend it didn’t happen, avoiding eye contact. Deep down, though, she’d be terrified of your reaction but desperately want you to feel the same.

Vi

♡ Vi would say “I love you” after a significant or intense moment, like after a fight or while patching you up. She’d want it to feel real and grounded, not just something she throws around casually.

♡ She’d keep it straightforward but genuine, her voice softening in a way that shows her tough exterior is cracking.

♡ “Look, I’m not great at this, but I love you. You’ve got my back, and I’ve got yours. Always.”

♡ She’d look a little nervous but would quickly recover, smirking or teasing to lighten the mood if things felt too vulnerable.

Caitlyn

♡ Caitlyn’s confession would be deliberate and heartfelt, happening in a quiet, intimate moment. She’d want you to know she means it fully.

♡ It would likely happen during a calm evening, after she’s had time to gather her thoughts and find the right moment to say it.

♡ “I’ve been meaning to tell you… I love you. Truly. You’ve brought so much light into my life, and I can’t imagine it without you.”

♡ She’d watch you closely, her composure hiding subtle nerves. When you say it back, she’d smile warmly, radiating quiet confidence as she holds your hand.

Jayce

♡ Jayce’s confession would be grand and emotional, delivered with the same passion he pours into everything he does.

♡ He’d say it in a moment of triumph or vulnerability, possibly after a victory or while doubting himself and finding comfort in you.

♡ “You’re everything I didn’t know I needed. I love you, and I don’t want to go another day without you knowing that.”

♡ He’d look at you with loving eyes, his heart on his sleeve. Once you reciprocate, he’d pull you into a tight embrace, relieved and overjoyed.

Viktor

♡ Viktor’s confession would be quiet, understated, and deeply sincere. He wouldn’t make a grand gesture but would choose a private moment where his words would carry weight.

♡ It would likely happen late at night while he’s working, and you’re nearby keeping him company. He’d pause for a moment, realizing how much you mean to him.

♡ “I never expected to find someone who sees me… and accepts me as you do. I love you. I hope you know that.”

♡ He’d glance at you, his expression guarded but hopeful. If you say it back, he’d let out a soft, relieved sigh, his lips curling into a rare smile as he continues his work with renewed focus.

Ekko

♡ Ekko’s confession would be sweet and playful, with a touch of hesitation as he tries to gauge your reaction.

♡ It would likely happen during a casual moment, like while exploring the Lanes together or sharing a quiet conversation about your lives.

♡ “You know… you’re kinda my favorite person. Okay, scratch that—you are my favorite person. I love you. There, I said it.”

♡ He’d grin nervously, rubbing the back of his neck or looking away until you respond. Once you say it back, he’d laugh, relieved, and tease you lightly to mask how much it meant to him.

Sevika

♡ Sevika’s confession would be gruff, direct, and tinged with vulnerability she’d rather not show.

♡ It would happen in an emotionally charged moment, like after you’ve been in danger or during a rare quiet evening when the mood feels right.

♡ “I don’t say stuff like this. But… I love you. So don’t make me regret telling you, alright?”

♡ She’d watch you carefully, her eyes sharp but betraying a hint of nervousness. When you say it back, she’d exhale slightly, offer a small smirk, and likely distract herself with a drink to mask how much she cares.

[at0m-b0mb-baby]

jinx x f!reader, isha's sister

jinx asks for isha's blessing.

--------

"hey, so," jinx starts, hesitates before continuing. "i like your sister. like...like like her and i was wondering if you'd be cool with me...i dunno, asking her out?"

isha looks up from where their beetles are battling, her expression one of confusion.

"oh sorry, i forgot you're just a kid and don't know anything," jinx teases, laughing when isha looks at her, unimpressed. "hey, calm it down with the attitude, missy. i was just making an honest observation."

she snickers when isha rolls her eyes, turning her focus back to the beetles.

"anyway," jinx tries again, after a few moments. "your sister is really cool and really awesome. she kicks ass and takes shit from no one. she's also super pretty, like suuuuper pretty and—"

isha sighs loudly before looking at jinx with eyes that say please get to the point.

jinx huffs a laugh and raises her hands up.

"okay, okay, i'll get to it, sheesh," she says before taking a deep breath. "you like me, right?"

isha nods.

"and you love your sister."

isha nods again.

"so...would you mind me...loving your sister too?" jinx says slowly, carefully. "not in the way you love her, obviously, but like in a romantic kind of sense because i love her more than family and—"

isha raises up a hand, motioning for jinx to stop her rambling. then she pretends to think for a minute—jinx can tell she's pretending, the little twerp—before she's nodding at her, beaming.

jinx's breath leaves her, relief flooding her like a tidal wave.

"okay...okay, cool," jinx mumbles, fighting the too-wide smile that threatens to split her face in half. "cool, that's awesome."

[at0m-b0mb-baby]

When the chronic fatigue is chronic

[at0m-b0mb-baby]

“I love you.” — Arcane

how the main cast say “I love you” ft, Jinx, Vi, Caitlyn, Jayce, Viktor, Ekko and Sevika.

Jinx

♡ Jinx would confess her love impulsively, likely in the middle of one of her chaotic activities. She’d blurt it out without much thought, then immediately try to brush it off as if it wasn’t a big deal.

♡ It would happen in a moment of manic excitement—maybe while building a new weapon or causing destruction together.

♡ “You know I… uh… I love you or whatever, okay?! Don’t make it weird!”

♡ After saying it, she’d pretend it didn’t happen, avoiding eye contact. Deep down, though, she’d be terrified of your reaction but desperately want you to feel the same.

Vi

♡ Vi would say “I love you” after a significant or intense moment, like after a fight or while patching you up. She’d want it to feel real and grounded, not just something she throws around casually.

♡ She’d keep it straightforward but genuine, her voice softening in a way that shows her tough exterior is cracking.

♡ “Look, I’m not great at this, but I love you. You’ve got my back, and I’ve got yours. Always.”

♡ She’d look a little nervous but would quickly recover, smirking or teasing to lighten the mood if things felt too vulnerable.

Caitlyn

♡ Caitlyn’s confession would be deliberate and heartfelt, happening in a quiet, intimate moment. She’d want you to know she means it fully.

♡ It would likely happen during a calm evening, after she’s had time to gather her thoughts and find the right moment to say it.

♡ “I’ve been meaning to tell you… I love you. Truly. You’ve brought so much light into my life, and I can’t imagine it without you.”

♡ She’d watch you closely, her composure hiding subtle nerves. When you say it back, she’d smile warmly, radiating quiet confidence as she holds your hand.

Jayce

♡ Jayce’s confession would be grand and emotional, delivered with the same passion he pours into everything he does.

♡ He’d say it in a moment of triumph or vulnerability, possibly after a victory or while doubting himself and finding comfort in you.

♡ “You’re everything I didn’t know I needed. I love you, and I don’t want to go another day without you knowing that.”

♡ He’d look at you with loving eyes, his heart on his sleeve. Once you reciprocate, he’d pull you into a tight embrace, relieved and overjoyed.

Viktor

♡ Viktor’s confession would be quiet, understated, and deeply sincere. He wouldn’t make a grand gesture but would choose a private moment where his words would carry weight.

♡ It would likely happen late at night while he’s working, and you’re nearby keeping him company. He’d pause for a moment, realizing how much you mean to him.

♡ “I never expected to find someone who sees me… and accepts me as you do. I love you. I hope you know that.”

♡ He’d glance at you, his expression guarded but hopeful. If you say it back, he’d let out a soft, relieved sigh, his lips curling into a rare smile as he continues his work with renewed focus.

Ekko

♡ Ekko’s confession would be sweet and playful, with a touch of hesitation as he tries to gauge your reaction.

♡ It would likely happen during a casual moment, like while exploring the Lanes together or sharing a quiet conversation about your lives.

♡ “You know… you’re kinda my favorite person. Okay, scratch that—you are my favorite person. I love you. There, I said it.”

♡ He’d grin nervously, rubbing the back of his neck or looking away until you respond. Once you say it back, he’d laugh, relieved, and tease you lightly to mask how much it meant to him.

Sevika

♡ Sevika’s confession would be gruff, direct, and tinged with vulnerability she’d rather not show.

♡ It would happen in an emotionally charged moment, like after you’ve been in danger or during a rare quiet evening when the mood feels right.

♡ “I don’t say stuff like this. But… I love you. So don’t make me regret telling you, alright?”

♡ She’d watch you carefully, her eyes sharp but betraying a hint of nervousness. When you say it back, she’d exhale slightly, offer a small smirk, and likely distract herself with a drink to mask how much she cares.

[at0m-b0mb-baby]

NSFW question….

so i’m writing machine herald viktor smut… does his still have his vikstick and valls or no? do i need to involve the hexstrap???? if there’s a hole there’s a goal ig

[at0m-b0mb-baby]

I Love You, I'm Sorry: Viktor x Reader

Based off of this reply on my last Viktor fic:

@lillycore : Duddee, imagine after the final scene between Viktor and Jayce they just disappear (I refuse to believe they both died, I’m just going believe, until it’s confirmed, that they simply teleported somewhere else), leaving reader alone without a chance to confront Viktor and believing they both died. So now, reader is left to pick up the pieces of her closest friend and love of her life gone, while believing Viktor no longer loves her (he does though, he was just a little confused with everything, but he still loves her)

Words: 1.2k

Author's Notes: Thank you all so much for the notes and kind words on my last Viktor fic, it truly means the world to me as a writer to see so many people touched by my writing. I hope you enjoy this equally devastating part 2.

They’re gone. They’re really gone.

No family, no friends, not a single loved one of yours survived this damn war. All this world has done is take, take, take.

You’re haunted by the last time you saw your beloved Viktor—completely unrecognizable. He had turned himself into a monster, disappearing with Jayce trying to save him. You didn’t even get to say goodbye, you didn’t even get to tell him you still love him.

Or ask if he still loved you.

You don’t know what would hurt less, believing he stopped loving you, or believing he did everything he did while loving you.

-

“Why can’t she hear me?” Viktor shouts into the void. He’s been calling your name for what feels like an eternity, his voice no longer carrying to your world.

Jayce puts a comforting hand on his shoulder, “You don’t have vessels to speak through anymore. She probably thinks we’re dead. Well, maybe we are…”

“No, no, this can’t be the end,” Viktor shakes his head vigorously. “I have to get back to her. She...she needs to know I love her. She needs to know I’m sorry.”

He falls to his knees amongst the stars, cursing himself for everything. How could he choose the hexcore over you? Why didn’t he seek you out when he survived the explosion? How did he let himself descend so far into madness that he forgot about your importance to him?

He’s now desperate for you to hear him, pleading the forces that bind his consciousness to this astral plane for another chance. He searches this dimension he’s come to know so well, looking for a loophole or tear in the fabric, but it’s no use. Everything has been closed—his supposed eternal consequence for his abuse of power.

Jayce saved him from himself, a feat he will forever be indebted to him for, but what is the point of redemption if he cannot live it out in his own flesh?

Would there have been a body left for him anyway? Would you still have loved him as the monstrosity he became?

Why must he still be cursed with the full vision of the universe? He sees you continue your life so clearly, but he can’t touch you, can’t speak to you. Your form shines the brightest light he’s ever seem in this dimension, an achievement that is not easily matched. He wonders if you can feel him reaching out to you, some sort of spiritual pull back to him. He will do anything to find a way to talk to you again.

-

You’ve been having dreams—dreams you can’t explain. Ever since Viktor’s disappearance, he’s tormented you day and night, constantly occupying your thoughts without mercy. You can hear his voice, but it sounds so far away you can never make out the words. You just wish it would all stop. You wish you could just erase him and all of the pain from your memory.

Sometimes you still feel a presence, the feeling you used to feel when he was in the same vicinity with you, admiring you from across a room. It’s a familiar warmth that used to wash you with peace, whereas now it makes your heart ache. You suppose it’s a normal symptom of grief, subconsciously denying that he’s really gone.

You start to go through his things he left at your house, beginning with his various textbooks and notebooks he would bring over for studying. Seeing his scribbles and handwriting again brings tears to your eyes, a single drop falling onto the paper as you read.

You blink a few times, seeing a couple of letters on the page start to glow. You must be seeing things, hallucinating from sleep deprivation. You close the journal and open it again, but the glowing letters are still there.

You grab a separate piece of paper and write down each glowing letter, finding fifteen total.

“I - L-O-V-E - Y-O-U - I-M - S-O-R-R-Y”

This isn’t happening. It can’t be.

-

“It’s working! She got my message!” Viktor exclaims.

“How...how are you doing that?” Jayce asks.

“Tiny rips in space—not big enough for either of us to escape through—but certainly big enough to briefly touch that reality,” Viktor pauses, still waiting for a response from you, but it doesn’t come.

-

You close the journal and sob, praying for an end to this misery. Your mind is playing tricks on you, deceiving you to a level you never thought possible. Must you be haunted by this forever? Must you endure the aftermath of this trauma?

You open it once again, the letters still glowing, but they start to fade right in front of your eyes. A new set of letters begin to glow, so you write those down as well.

“I-T-S - M-E - D-A-R-L-I-N-G”

And then another set of letters.

“P-L-E-A-S-E - T-A-L-K - T-O - M-E”

Maybe you’re not imagining.

You’ve heard of magicians who can converse with the dead, and the possibility of other dimensional planes and universes. Viktor himself had some theories about it, although he never pursued proving them. Could it really be possible that your beloved was speaking to you?

“Viktor?” you say out loud. “Are you...are you alive?”

“I - D-O-N-T - K-N-O-W”

The pencil drops from your hand again as your head falls to the table. His consciousness is somehow alive, clearly, but there’s no way he can explain to you where he is and how to get him out one letter at a time. You’re nowhere near his level of intellect—even if he explained how to rescue him like you’re five years old—you fear you still would mess something up.

“Viktor...I can’t do this. You can’t do this to me,” you sigh, daring to look at the words again. “You abandoned me, and now my life is a living hell because of the destruction you helped cause. I want nothing to do with your war and stupid glorious evolution. So if you’re not here to take me away from this life, please go away.”

The same original words start glowing again, brighter each time they sequence:

I love you, I’m sorry.

I love you, I’m sorry.

I love you, I’m sorry.

“Love doesn’t do what you did. Love doesn’t abandon its humanity for power.”

Please forgive me.

“I do forgive you for everything, Viktor. That’s exactly why I need to forget about you, because I will never stop loving you and hurting for it if I don’t.”

With blurry eyes, you close the journal and throw it into the fireplace, regretting it almost immediately. You grab a stick and pull it out, your tears falling onto the soot-stained cover.

“Please, just...find a way back to me.”

I will.

[at0m-b0mb-baby]

Hi! I've been reading you for a while, but I'm an idiot and I just started following you. I need more Viktor fanfics, anything, I accept breadcrumbs 😭😭

me too soldier, me too 🫡 there will be more in the future!!

[at0m-b0mb-baby]

My Masterlist!!!

Arcane/LOL:

Viktor NSFW headcanons

Viktor SFW relationship headcanons

Arcane cast saying “I love you”

The Unspoken Truth (Viktor x Mage reader)

Fallout:

Blind Betrayal (Paladin Danse)

[at0m-b0mb-baby]

Blind Betrayal

| Paladin Danse x SS!reader

warning: slight angst with some fluff as it follows his storyline!

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.

[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: DONEEE

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.