#Arcane jayce | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kirammanswifey · 2 days ago

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arcane characters proposing x fem reader

characters: viktor, jinx, vi, caitlyn, jayce, ekko, silco, mel and sevika.

writer's note: it was so satisfying to have written this after so much dramaaaa. i really liked this dynamic and i'll exploit it with so much more scenarios so be prepared for a lot of fluff, btw my favorite proposal was jayce's, he was all cute and clumsy. as you already know request are open ;)

Viktor

The silence in the lab is heavy, interrupted only by the soft hum of the machines he has designed himself. You’re beside him, watching how his fingers move with skill, adjusting a piece of the contraption he holds in his hands. The dim light from the lamps reflects on his face, casting shadows that highlight the features of his face, always so serious, so focused. But in his eyes, there’s something different today. Something... softer, deeper.

You’re used to seeing him in his colder, distant side, but something has changed. There’s a strange calmness in his presence. When he looks up and meets your gaze, his lips curl slightly, a small but meaningful smile.

"Science is my life," he says in his deep, measured tone, as if evaluating each word before speaking. "And it always has been. But some time ago, something changed. Something that... has nothing to do with experiments or formulas. Something I can’t measure or control."

He looks at you with an intensity that feels almost uncomfortable, as if he were exposed, vulnerable, on ground where he doesn’t have all the answers. His voice, though firm, carries a vulnerability he rarely shows.

"You’ve given me more than I thought I needed," he continues, his eyes never leaving yours. "It’s not just what you’ve done for me in the lab. It’s... what you’ve done for me as a person. You’ve been my anchor, my reason to keep going when everything seemed lost. In a world that doesn’t have clear answers, you’re the only certainty I have."

The distance between the two of you seems to shorten. Viktor takes a step toward you, although his movements are slow, as if each one carries meaning. He stops beside you, almost as if it were a gesture of trust, of allowing himself to be vulnerable in your presence. He closes his eyes for a moment, as if preparing to say something that has taken him a long time to decide.

"What I’m about to say... doesn’t have any exact formula. No calculation that validates it," he says, and you can see his hands tremble slightly. "But I know that, with everything I’ve done, with everything I still want to do, I would never feel complete without you."

His voice is soft now, much quieter, as if what he’s about to say is a secret, one he’s revealing only to you.

"I’ve seen you beyond the brilliant mind, beyond the scientist who always challenges me. I’ve seen you as someone who, no matter how many times I shut myself off from the world, continues to be by my side, expecting nothing more than... to be with me."

He takes something from his pocket. A small metal case. He opens the lid carefully, revealing a simple ring, but with an elegance that only he could have imagined and created. The Hextech light reflects off the blue stone, casting glimmers that make your breath catch for a moment.

"My life wouldn’t be the same without you. And if there’s one thing in this world I don’t want to lose, it’s the opportunity to have you by my side forever."

Viktor looks at you deeply, waiting, more vulnerable than he’s ever been. And finally, after all the science, all the advancements, all the sacrifices... he asks you with a sincerity that cuts through the air:

"Will you marry me?"

The silence that follows is absolute. You stay motionless, unable to articulate a word. The weight of his declaration, of his vulnerability, pierces you, but instead of an immediate response, you dive into the intensity of his eyes, looking for something, any sign, any confirmation that this isn’t a dream. Viktor begins to worry, and the discomfort is reflected on his face.

"It’s a shame... I can’t do it the conventional way, kneeling..." he murmurs, his voice trembling. "But... I guess..."

You can’t let him finish the sentence. The anxiety in his eyes, the insecurity in his posture, prevents you from doing so. You move quickly, placing your lips on his with a soft kiss, but one filled with everything you can’t put into words. The world seems to fade away, and all that remains is him, the beating of your heart, and that silent connection between you two.

When you finally pull away, his gaze is still fixed on you, expectant, anxious. With a tenderness that comes from deep within, you take his face in your hands, your fingers caressing his skin as if it were the most precious thing in the world. And it was. He was the most precious thing in your world.

You look deeply into his eyes, every word that leaves your mouth filled with love, promises, and everything you haven’t said until now.

"Yes, Viktor... yes, yes, yes. Always yes."

The air between you both is filled with a new energy, one that needs no more words, because the simple fact of being together is enough.

Jinx

The night has fallen, but it’s not a peaceful one. The air is charged with electricity, as if the whole world is waiting for something, and you, trapped in the whirlwind of the city, can’t help but feel that something is about to explode. Literally.

You walk through the dark alleys of the Undercity, the neon lights flickering around you, when suddenly, a familiar laugh makes you turn. Jinx appears, her electric blue hair waving in the wind and a spark of madness in her eyes. She’s holding a large, seemingly heavy box in her hands, grinning mischievously.

“Surprise!” she says, her voice overflowing with excitement. “I’ve got something incredible to show you. It’s bigger than anything you’ve ever seen!”

Before you can say anything, she grabs your hand and drags you toward an open space, where a small platform is set up, filled with wires and explosives. The sense of danger is in the air, but it’s impossible not to feel the adrenaline she radiates. You know that with Jinx, you can’t expect anything conventional, but that’s what makes her so unpredictable. So... perfect.

“What are you doing?” you ask, although you can already imagine the kind of madness she has in mind.

“Doing what I’ve always wanted to do! A celebration of love that no one will ever forget!” she replies, her smile so wide it almost lights up the city’s darkness.

Jinx runs toward an improvised control panel and presses a button with exaggerated theatricality, as if it were a grand revelation. Suddenly, the sky lights up. A flash of colors bursts above you, as if the very chaos inside her wanted to spill over into the universe. Fireworks. A visual spectacle so dazzling that it takes your breath away. It’s as if the whole city is alive, as if life and death themselves were dancing in the sky.

While the explosions of colors fill the air, Jinx approaches you, her eyes sparkling as if she had immersed herself in her own world of madness and love. She’s not one to beat around the bush or speak sweetly, so when she takes your face in her hands, her fingers cold but full of energy, you know what she’s about to say is as unexpected as everything she does.

“Listen,” she says, looking at the colorful stars exploding above them. “What I love most about this world is the chaos. Things don’t have to be perfect or make sense! But... there’s one thing I’m absolutely sure of.”

Your heart beats faster, but you can’t help but smile at her wild declaration.

“I want you to be my chaos,” she continues, her voice full of determination. “I want you to join me in this journey of madness, to hold on to me when I explode, to keep laughing when the world falls apart, to follow me... because you and I are invincible!”

With a nearly mischievous grin, Jinx pulls something from her jacket: a ring. It’s quirky, like everything in her life, with visible gears and sparkling stones, some even crackling slightly, as if they’re about to explode.

“What I mean is... will you marry me? Tell me yes before I run out of fireworks!”

Jinx’s laughter is a little overwhelming, an echo of her own unpredictable essence. But despite all her chaos, there’s something so sincere in her eyes, something that makes you feel that, even though the world may be on the edge of destruction, this moment, this chaos, is the only thing that truly matters.

You stand there, speechless for a moment, overwhelmed by the light bombardment and the madness of the proposal, but when you see how she looks at you, waiting, you realize you have no doubts. Jinx has made it clear in her own language: love is a dangerous game, but you want to play it by her side.

With a brilliant smile, you approach her, and between the lights, amid the roar, you whisper:

“Yes, Jinx. Yes, to this chaos. Yes, always.”

You’re lying on the couch, comfortable and relaxed, with your head resting on Vi’s legs. The soft sound of the city that never sleeps drifts in from the window, but inside the house, the silence feels cozy. Vi is sitting, her muscles tense but calm, with a thoughtful expression as she plays with your hair, something that always soothes you.

The warmth of her presence surrounds you, and for a moment, everything seems perfect. But something in the air changes. Vi’s relaxed demeanor begins to feel different, as if she’s holding something back. You realize that, for the first time, she’s not being the confident Vi, the one who always has everything under control.

“Are you okay?” you ask, lifting your head from her legs to look at her directly. Vi doesn’t answer right away, and her fingers stop moving through your hair. There’s uncertainty in her eyes, something you haven’t seen before.

She shifts, crosses her legs, but doesn’t seem as comfortable as usual. “You know... I’m not really good with these things,” she says, her voice softer than usual. “I’m always the one who throws punches and solves everything my way, but now...” Her gaze drops to the floor for a moment, avoiding eye contact.

You look at her, sensing that something important is about to come out of her mouth. On her face, that nervous grimace is a clear sign that she’s struggling with herself. Something’s going on, but she doesn’t know how to express it.

“What I mean is... I’ve never been good with words,” Vi continues, letting out a nervous laugh. “And I’m not one for grand gestures or fancy things. I’m not someone who can give you the best, like... you know, expensive jewelry or fancy places. But there’s something I know I want.”

Vi takes something from her pocket, and when you see it, a small ring appears between her fingers. It’s not shiny or flashy. It’s simple, made of metal with a rustic design, almost as if she made it herself. A small symbol of her effort and her love.

“This... isn’t much,” she says, looking at the ring with a slight embarrassment. “I got it with what I could save. It’s not perfect, but... I want it to be a symbol of who I am for you. Of everything we’ve been through together. And... I want us to be together. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, even if I’m not the best at this. Because, despite everything, I love you more than I can put into words.”

Vi looks at the ring like it’s a simple object, but in her eyes, you can see how much it means to her. Her insecurity is palpable, as if she’s waiting for the ring to not be enough. But you know that’s not what matters. You know it’s all she has to offer you, and that’s what makes this moment even more special.

You see her nervous, waiting for a response, and you can’t help but smile. You get up and stand in front of her, gently touching her hands, and when you look at her, the insecurity on her face melts away, though her voice is still a fearful whisper.

“Vi,” you say, with a sincere smile. “I don’t care about the ring, I don’t care about what you couldn’t give me. What matters is that you’ve shown me more love than I ever imagined. Yes, I want to marry you. Yes, I always want to be with you, by your side.”

Vi looks at you as if she can’t believe what she just heard. Her face lights up with a pure expression of relief and happiness. Even though the words aren’t perfect, everything this moment means is in her eyes. She lets out a nervous laugh and, without thinking, pulls you into a tight hug.

“I knew you’d say yes,” she whispers, but her voice is full of emotion. And you, amid the laughter and the embrace, know that despite everything that has happened, this moment couldn’t be more perfect.

Caitlyn

Night has fallen over Piltover, and the city lights shine with a golden glow, reflecting the majesty of the buildings and the life that has always characterized this city. Caitlyn has invited you to dinner at one of the most exclusive restaurants in town, an elegant place, tastefully decorated, where the panoramic view takes your breath away. The atmosphere is calm, yet filled with a sophisticated air. The murmurs of other diners do not interrupt the softness of the background music.

Caitlyn looks impeccable, as always, in her elegant dress that accentuates her delicate but strong features. The soft candlelight flickers on her face, highlighting the concentration in her eyes. From the moment you entered the restaurant, you could sense something in the air, but she is determined to maintain composure, even though her hands occasionally move restlessly over the table.

The dinner goes on as usual, with Caitlyn talking about her latest research advancements, her projects, and concerns about the future of Piltover. But even though the topic is important and her voice is firm, you can't help but notice the tension inside her. She drinks a bit more wine than she normally would, and from time to time, her fingers play with the glass as if she is seeking comfort.

"I've been waiting for this," she says suddenly, her eyes fixed on you, although her tone betrays her nervousness. "I don't know if I'm good at this, but I think... well, I need to be honest. I don't like hiding things, and this is important."

Your eyes meet hers, noticing how a slight blush begins to appear on her cheeks. Caitlyn, the woman who always has a logical answer for everything, now looks completely vulnerable. But it's not her nervousness that makes you smile; it's the way she looks at you, as if this moment is more important than any project or achievement.

Caitlyn sighs deeply and finally gets up from her chair, giving you a little spin around the table. You don't know if it's to calm herself or because she needs to distract her thoughts, but she approaches slowly, as if each step is a challenge. Her hands tremble slightly as she places them on the table, and you realize that something very important is about to happen.

"I know this isn't something I planned in the traditional way," she says, her voice soft but firm, "but... this is how I feel. And I want you to know." She lifts her hand, showing you a small ring, whose shine is subtle but radiant. It is a delicate ring, with a simple yet elegant design, of impeccable quality. And when you see it, you realize it's not just any jewel.

It's the ring her mother wore at her wedding, the same one Caitlyn had seen so many times, the one she had touched with so much love when she was a child. A symbol of tradition, of enduring love. A symbol of family.

"This is my mother's ring," Caitlyn says, almost whispering. "I know it's not a modern ring, nor expensive compared to what I could buy, but... it holds a very special meaning. For me, it means everything I want to offer you. My family, my love, my commitment. My promise that I'll always be by your side."

She looks at you, her eyes shining with emotion, as if it were the first time she showed something so intimate, so hers. There are no doubts in her gaze, only a deep certainty of what she's saying, but her voice remains soft, sincere.

"I love you," she says, with a clarity that reaches straight to your heart. "And I want you to be my partner in all of this, not just in the good moments, but in the difficult ones. Because, for me, there is no one else I want to be with. Only you."

Caitlyn places the ring in front of you, and for a moment, all the bustle of the restaurant disappears. Only the soft sound of her breath and the beating of your heart remain. You know what you have to do, but this moment feels so perfect, so genuine, that the words seem stuck in your throat. All you want to do is take her hand, look her in the eyes, and say yes.

Finally, your words come out with a wide smile. "Yes, Cait. Yes, I want to spend my life with you."

Caitlyn's eyes light up with a happiness that makes you feel as if everything is in its place, as if nothing else matters about what may come in the future. This moment, this commitment, is everything you both needed.

Caitlyn hugs you tightly, and the ring shines on your finger, a symbol of a pure and deep love, born from honesty, vulnerability, and sincerity from a woman who, despite her external perfection, has always been real with you.

Jayce

The day had been long and full of work, but Jayce, with his determined spirit, decided to surprise you. Instead of taking you to a fancy restaurant or preparing something sophisticated, he had a much bolder idea—a homemade dinner. That made you smile immediately, knowing that Jayce wasn’t exactly an expert chef. But you didn’t care; the idea of sharing something so personal with him excited you more than any gourmet dinner.

When you entered the kitchen, you found him with an expression of total concentration, mixing ingredients in a way that left much to be desired, but you found it charming. He had made pasta, something simple, but it had surely cost him more effort than he wanted to admit.

"Surprise!" he said as he saw you approach. Although the dish wasn’t a culinary masterpiece, you sat with him, and despite the imperfections, you enjoyed every bite. The smile on his face as he watched you eat was enough to make everything seem perfect. And when, after a while of talking and laughing, you got up to go to the bathroom, he took the opportunity to open a special bottle of wine.

When you returned, the glass was ready, and seeing the wine in it and the label on the bottle, your eyes lit up with excitement. It was your favorite wine! You couldn’t stop smiling as you smelled it and took a small sip.

But then, suddenly, something wasn’t right. A strange piece caught in your throat made you cough hard. The wine spilled from your mouth as you tried to catch your breath, and in the midst of coughing, a strange sensation made you feel as if something was stuck there. In an instant, Jayce was by your side, looking at you with panic.

"What happened?! Are you okay?!"

With a quick maneuver, almost instinctively, Jayce patted your back and, with a racing heart, helped you spit out what was stuck in your throat. To both of your surprise, what came out was not just a piece of food, but a small ring now resting in your hand.

Jayce was in shock, looking at the ring and then at you, completely red with embarrassment. "Oh no! That wasn’t part of the plan! How did that get there? Everything has gone wrong... I’m sorry, I never imagined this would happen."

You laughed, almost hysterically, as you cleaned the ring with a napkin and held it in your palm. Despite the comical situation, Jayce was clearly frustrated. He wanted everything to be perfect, but you didn’t care. It was clear that all that mattered was that he was there, in front of you, despite the fiasco.

"Are you going to ask me or not?" you asked, the smile on your lips growing as you watched his face change from despair to disbelief.

Jayce looked at you, and for a moment, he didn’t know what to say. He was nervous, completely out of place. "Really? Now…?" he asked, with a nervous laugh. But it didn’t take long for him to do what he had to do. With a shy but genuine smile, he knelt before you, somewhat clumsy but sincere, and with a nervous laugh, he said:

"Well… since it seems I can’t do anything right today, maybe this will be the one thing that goes well. Will you marry me?"

The scene, as clumsy as it was funny, made you laugh even more, but in the end, all that mattered was that he was there, in his own way, loving you. The ring, somewhat imperfect in all its disorder, represented more love than anyone could ask for. Without thinking any further, you took his face in your hands and kissed him tenderly, answering in the simplest yet most profound way possible:

"Yes, Jayce. I do."

Ekko

The Undercity held its own kind of magic. The faint lights of the streetlamps flickered through the mist, and the distant sounds of the markets blended with the steady flow of water running through the pipes. You were sitting on an improvised bench in a hidden corner, surrounded by the crumbling walls, but to you, this place felt like the very heart of the world. Ekko had made it a refuge for the two of you, a space where you could escape from the chaos and, for a moment, forget about everything else except the present.

There was something special about that night. The way Ekko looked at you, the spark in his eyes... it wasn’t like the times before. There was something deeper now, a sense of resolution, as if he was on the verge of making a decision that would change everything. And he did.

"You know," Ekko began, his voice more serious than usual, "I've been thinking a lot about things lately. About how everything we've lived through... everything we've overcome... has changed us." His words carried a weight they usually didn’t.

The conversation didn't seem to be heading towards a cheerful topic, but there was something in the air that told you what was coming was important. You leaned in a little closer, sensing that the atmosphere was charged with something.

He pulled a small device from his pocket, something that looked like an old piece of machinery, but upon closer inspection, you realized it was no ordinary gadget. It was a pocket watch, but not the kind you'd find in a store. This one was modified, a timepiece that seemed designed not only to measure time but also to control something else... something intangible, like destiny. It was something Ekko had built over the years, a reflection of his constant efforts to understand the flow of time.

"This watch," he said with a faint smile on his lips, "is a reminder. A reminder that even when things seem out of control, we can always find a way to move forward. Like us, always moving forward, no matter what comes our way."

He looked at you with a seriousness you’d never seen from him before, and for a moment, he fell silent, as if searching for the right words.

"And… what I’m trying to say is that, even though we don’t have control over time, even though we can’t stop what’s coming, I want you to keep walking by my side. Every second, every minute, every step."

Despite his usual relaxed demeanor, in that moment he seemed more vulnerable than ever. The watch he showed you wasn’t just a machine; it was a symbol of what he had been searching for his whole life: a way to stop time, so that the most important moments wouldn’t slip away.

"So, if at any point you feel the same way," he added, gently taking your hand, "I’d like this... what we’re living... to never end. That we can keep making memories together. I don’t know if there’s a right way to ask, but... would you like to be with me, always?"

He looked at you with a vulnerability you’d never seen before, almost as if afraid you might say something that would break the magic of the moment.

You couldn’t help but smile, at first as if you were in shock, speechless. This Ekko, the one who always had a plan, the one who had faced a thousand battles, was now asking you to be by his side forever, with a sincerity he rarely showed. It wasn’t a grand traditional gesture, but to you, it was even more meaningful.

You were silent for a few seconds, and that made Ekko feel even more unsure, his gaze beginning to fade as if he thought you had already decided not to answer. But before he could pull away or say anything more, you caught him, quickly closing the distance between you.

"Yes," you whispered, but it was a resounding yes. "Yes, Ekko, I want to be with you. Always. I don’t need a watch or a perfect plan. I just need you."

You held his hand more firmly, looking into his eyes, and his lips formed a slight smile, though his face still carried a trace of nervousness.

"Together, forever, babe," he said, pulling you close and resting your back against his chest. You smiled happily as his arms wrapped around you.

You took the watch and kissed it, feeling the cold scent of rusted metal.

"Forever," you replied, and that word felt like the beginning of something eternal.

Silco

It was another night when the soft light of candles flickered, casting shadows in the corners of the room. The atmosphere in Silco's office was charged with tension, as always, but tonight something felt different. The usual coldness of the room had transformed into something warmer. On the walls, shadows danced to the rhythm of the flames, and the scattered papers on his desk seemed to tell stories of past struggles and uncertain victories.

However, Silco wasn’t at his desk. He stood in the center of the room, silently watching you as you leaned against the door, returning his gaze. His presence was magnetic, as always, but there was something different about him tonight. Something more vulnerable in his stance, as if he had been waiting for you—or rather, waiting for you to understand what lay beneath those deep eyes.

“This is a different kind of night,” Silco spoke, his voice grave, deliberate, as if weighing each word. He motioned for you to come closer, but not to him—toward the far side of the room. A table, delicately designed, rested just beneath a window overlooking the chaotic landscape of the Undercity.

As you approached, you noticed several boxes on the table, some open, some closed. One wooden box caught your eye. Silco’s gaze hardened on it, almost as if he feared what might happen when it was opened, or perhaps what it represented. He moved toward it slowly, like someone executing a carefully planned act, and gently opened the box.

Inside lay a ring. It wasn’t the kind of ring you’d expect from someone like Silco—no extravagant jewels, no grand display of wealth. Yet, there was something profound about it. The fine, dark metalwork and the stone that caught the light in a way you couldn’t ignore seemed to tell a story. It was as if the ring itself embodied both the harshness of his life and the softness of feelings he had long kept hidden.

“This is the kind of thing I never cared for,” he said, his tone mixing toughness with an unexpected sincerity. “A symbol without meaning. But since you arrived, I’ve learned that there are things worth more than logic.”

For the first time in what seemed like forever, Silco showed a hint of insecurity. His gaze clouded for a moment, as if he feared your reaction. But instead of saying more, he stepped closer, the ring in his hand, and slowly sank to his knee before you.

“I’ve sacrificed so much, maybe that’s why I never let myself desire more. But now I know. I know because I want you. And because I don’t want to do this alone.”

There was no grand gesture, no theatrics, but the weight of sincerity in his simple act stunned you. He looked up at you, his eyes full of vulnerability, asking for something more than anyone had ever dared to ask before.

“Will you marry me?”

The silence in the room was thick, filled with everything Silco couldn’t say but what his proposal meant. It wasn’t a casual request—it was a serious commitment, as serious as everything he’d fought for in his life.

For a moment, you stood still, heart racing—not because of the surprise, but because of the sheer intensity of his words and the unexpected gesture. You had seen the calculating side of Silco, the way he controlled every aspect of his life, every decision with precision. But this—this was something entirely different. It was the purest form of vulnerability, someone willing to give it all up for love, to risk everything they’d built for someone who meant more than any achievement.

Finally, you took a deep breath and, with a soft smile, nodded. “Yes,” you said, your voice steady but full of emotion. “There is nothing I want more in this world than to be your wife.”

The air shifted instantly. Silco stood slowly, and his normally implacable face softened. It was as if he had laid down an immense weight, as if the future finally had a clear purpose.

Without another word, he pulled you into his arms. In that moment, the shadows in the room seemed lighter, less oppressive. With the promise of a future together, everything that had once seemed distant, unreachable, now felt within both your grasps.

Mel

It was a quiet night, one of those where the sounds of the city reached you muffled, as if time was willing to grant you a break. Mel's living room, as always, was a perfect display of elegance and order, but something about the atmosphere that night felt different, warmer, more intimate. The soft light from the lamps illuminated the carefully arranged furniture, and there was a rare calm in the air, something that only happened when the worries of the outside world seemed to vanish for a moment.

Mel had invited you to her house that night, but not for dinner or a formal event. Instead, she had wanted to show you something more, something personal. And seeing the invitation in her eyes, you knew this moment was special.

When you entered, the house had a more relaxed vibe than usual. The fireplace flickered softly in the background, and the air was filled with the delicate scent of incense. However, what truly caught your attention was what was in the center of the room. A large painting, a framed portrait, was leaning against the wall, carefully placed under a soft light.

"I want you to see this," Mel said with a slight smile, her usually firm voice now tinged with an unexpected sweetness. She approached you, guiding you toward the painting. Though her face didn’t give it away, there was a slight tension in her movements, as if she was waiting for your reaction.

You stepped closer to the portrait, and your breath caught as you saw the image in front of you. It was a portrait of you, painted with a level of detail that only someone like Mel could have achieved. Every line, every shadow seemed to capture something beyond your appearance: a reflection of your being, how she saw you. It wasn’t just a painting; it was an expression of how Mel perceived you, something that had been rendered with such dedication that the work itself seemed to come alive.

"It’s… incredible," you murmured, unable to articulate a more complete response. Mel watched your reaction, her eyes fixed on you, but without saying a word. You knew that, for her, this work meant far more than just a portrait. It was a piece of her soul, an extension of her deepest feelings.

"I did it because… because I wanted to capture something that could never be expressed just with words," Mel said, her tone calm but loaded with meaning. "It’s hard for me to share something so… personal, but with you, I feel like it makes sense."

You turned toward her, surprised by the vulnerability she was showing, so rare in the woman who had always kept everything under control. But there was something in her gaze, something in her posture, that made you see what she truly felt.

Mel took a step toward you, her gaze softening even further. "You are… the only person who has truly shown me what it means to let someone in so deeply. I’ve spent my whole life building walls, creating an image of control, but you… you’ve shown me something I didn’t even know I needed."

There was a softness in her words that you had never heard before. You knew her as a strong, calculating woman, always impeccable. But there, in that moment, in front of you, there was something more, something that only you had been able to awaken in her.

"And now I want you to… be part of my life. I want you not only to be part of this portrait, but of everything I’ve built. I’ve had all the power in the world, all the control I could wish for, but that doesn’t make sense without someone like you by my side."

Mel paused, almost as if she were fighting against herself, and then, with a smooth movement, extended her hand toward you. In her palm rested a small box, which she carefully opened, revealing a simple but elegant ring. It was beautiful but not ostentatious, with a unique beauty, a design that spoke of her personality: refined, but with a subtle touch of surprise. The golden ring glimmered softly under the candlelight, like a reflection of the same gentleness Mel had shown in her words.

"I want you to be my partner," Mel said, her voice a barely audible whisper, but filled with meaning. "Will you marry me?"

The moment was marked by a tense silence, loaded with emotion. Mel wasn’t seeking a grand declaration or an ostentatious proposal. She only wanted to share her life with you, in the way she knew how to do it: with a sincerity that only she could offer.

Without thinking, you stepped closer to her, took her face in your hands, and without saying another word, kissed her softly. The kiss wasn’t just a response to her proposal, but an affirmation of everything you shared, of everything that moment meant.

When you pulled away, her eyes were filled with something you had never seen before: vulnerability, hope, love. You took her hand, and with a warm smile, you said what she had been waiting to hear, what you both knew was true.

"Yes, Mel. Yes. I’ve always wanted this, to share all of this with you."

Mel smiled, her face lit by a deep emotion she had never shown before. Without saying another word, she hugged you, and in that embrace was everything she couldn’t say with words. The future, her promises, her fears, her desires. It was all there, intertwined in an embrace as warm as the painting she had created just for you.

Sevika

It had been a long and dangerous night, more than either of us had anticipated. You had gotten yourself into a mess, bigger than anyone else would have dared to handle, but there you were, beside Sevika, helping her get out of danger. There were a few of Silco's enemies, but with her strength and your ingenuity, you managed to make it all end in the blink of an eye. The tension eased, and calm washed over everything like a wave.

The air was charged with adrenaline, but also with a strange serenity when the two of you were finally away from danger. Sevika, with her impassive face and intense eyes, looked at you with a mix of gratitude and something more. You couldn’t say it was love at first sight or anything so romantic, but there was something about that moment that felt different, something raw, something real.

You stayed looking at her while both of you took a breath, your bodies still trembling slightly from the tension. She was so close you could feel her breath, as heavy and rhythmic as your own. Without warning, her eyes locked with yours, and for a moment, the outside world disappeared. There were no more enemies, no more worries, just the two of you.

Sevika didn’t speak at first. The full moon illuminated the corner where you were, but it was her silence that spoke volumes. Then, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, her low voice cut through the air:

"Do you want to marry me?"

You stopped, surprised. Had she really said that? Or was it one of her usual jokes? It couldn’t have been more unexpected, could it? You laughed lightly, thinking it must have been a joke. But when you looked into her eyes, as serious as always, a knot formed in your stomach. Sevika wasn’t joking. Not this time.

"Just like that, out of the blue?" you asked, unable to suppress a smile of disbelief. It was as if all the chaos of the night hadn’t been enough to spill over into the unpredictability of her proposal.

She didn’t flinch, her lips curving into a slight smile, but her eyes stayed fixed on you, determined. "And why not? The best things come out of nowhere, don’t they?" she said with a tone that left no room for doubt. Her voice was strong, direct, but there was a softness hidden beneath her arrogance. Sevika had never been one for too many words, but the few she spoke always carried weight. As if nothing in her was accidental, and every decision she made was calculated down to the last detail.

She looked at you for a moment, evaluating you with the same intensity she always did, then added, "So, do you want to be my little, spoiled wife? I promise to put up with your snoring and you kicking me out of bed for all eternity." She joked, a low laugh escaping her chest, and you were a little surprised by the lightness in her tone, as if, in the seriousness of the situation, Sevika also needed to soften the moment in her own way.

Your reaction was automatic, more because of the teasing tone than the content of what she said. "Hey! I don’t snore that much!" you exclaimed, pretending to be offended, but the truth was, you couldn’t really be angry. You couldn’t be upset, because there was something about her that drew you in in a very unique way.

So, you decided to raise your right hand and move your ring finger. "No ring, no wedding," you warned, then flicked your hair in the air. "I’m not a girl who settles for little, and you know that."

Sevika approached you, never losing her smile. "Believe me, sweetheart, I’ll buy you the biggest, most expensive ring in the world. Tell me how many carats you want, and I’ll get it exactly how you ask for it." Her promise was full of a confidence only she could have. Every word sounded so convincing, so solid, that there was no room for doubt. Sevika never made empty promises, and this was no exception.

Her voice was deep, playful, as if she was willing to fulfill anything asked of her. You smiled, pleased, but something in her attitude sparked a mischievous glint in your eyes. Instead of continuing the joke, you went straight to the point and leaned close to her ear, whispering with a touch of playful innuendo:

"Since the best things come out of nowhere, why don’t we fast forward to the honeymoon?"

Your whisper was soft, but with an undertone of suggestion that didn’t go unnoticed. Sevika blinked a couple of times, clearly surprised by your response. But instead of being bothered, something on her face shifted, and a sideways smile appeared on her lips, as if you had pulled the idea right out of her head.

"I like that," she said, her tone now low and filled with palpable desire. "I love that you don’t beat around the bush." Her voice was hushed, heavy with desire, accentuated by how close she was to you. "Let’s make this night something much more... memorable."

Suddenly, the environment around you both ceased to exist. Only her eyes, the heat of her body near yours, and the certainty that, despite everything, something had begun in an unexpected way remained. The best things come out of nowhere, and tonight, Sevika had shown you that her way of loving, though fierce and daring, was also the most sincere you had ever known.

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kirammanswifey · 1 day ago

Note

Would you be down to write some reverse comfort with the Arcane characters?

Basically just make them go through one of the worst days of their lives then have the reader take care of them (I mostly just wanted to see Viktor in this scenario, but if you want to write for other characters too that'd be awesome)

Either way take your time and I hope you have a wonderful day ~☁️

arcane characters reverse comfort x fem reader

characters: viktor, jinx, vi, caitlyn, jayce, ekko, silco, mel and sevika.

writer's note: i'm always down for this kind of scenarios, make me feel like a teenage girl again. as you already know request are open ;)

Viktor

It has been an exhausting day in the lab. The experiments have failed time and again, each mistake weighing heavier on Viktor’s shoulders. You can see it in his eyes when he finally gives in, letting the tools fall with a long, heavy sigh. He leans against the workbench, his slender, hunched figure casting a shadow of defeat on the walls illuminated by the flickering equipment.

"This doesn't make sense..." he murmurs, as though the words are a burden he needs to release. His fingers drum frustratedly on the metallic surface, and you feel the despair in every tap. "I’ve made mistake after mistake... Maybe this was all a mistake from the start."

His words hit you, but it’s the tone of his voice that wounds you more, filled with a self-criticism that is painfully familiar but no less difficult to hear. You know how much his work matters to him, how much of himself he has poured into these projects. And you know this failure consumes him more than he’s willing to admit. You can't just stand by and watch him spiral.

"Viktor," you say softly, stepping closer and placing a firm yet comforting hand on his arm. "You’re a genius, and even geniuses have tough days. Today was one of those days, but it doesn’t define who you are or what you do."

At first, he doesn’t respond. His gaze is lost, searching for answers in the shadows that stretch across the lab. But then his grey eyes meet yours, filled with doubt and exhaustion. "How can you be so sure? Every day without progress... I feel like I’m wasting time, like I’m failing everyone, even myself."

Your heart tightens at his words. You take his hand in yours, intertwining your fingers gently, feeling the coolness of his skin against yours. "Because I know you, Viktor. I’ve seen your dedication, your passion. Every mistake, every small setback is part of the process. You don't have to carry this weight alone. I’m here to help you shoulder it."

The silence that follows is thick, but instead of uncomfortable, it’s a space where words aren’t necessary. Slowly, you see his posture relax, the tension in his shoulders beginning to ease. Without letting go of his hand, you step even closer, sensing the fragility of the moment.

"Let’s step outside for a bit," you whisper, "You need to clear your mind, get some fresh air. You don’t have to do it all today, not tonight."

He looks at you again, with a mix of gratitude and weariness, and finally nods. "Alright," he says softly, as if it’s hard for him to admit he needs the break.

You walk together to the exit, your fingers still entwined with his. The night air is a balm, cool and light, carrying away some of the day's heaviness. You walk in silence through the almost deserted streets, the distant hum of the city a constant murmur.

"Thank you," he finally whispers, breaking the silence with a voice soft, almost breaking. "I don’t know what I’d do without you."

You stop, turning to face him. "You don’t have to know, because I’m not going anywhere. I’m here for you, through the good and the bad days. You don’t have to bear this burden alone."

He tilts his head, and for a moment it seems like he’s about to say more, but instead, he simply squeezes your hand tighter, a silent gesture that speaks volumes.

"Come here," you say, leading him to a nearby bench. You sit beside him, and for the first time all night, you see him take a deep breath, as if the fresh air could cleanse not just his lungs but also his mind and soul.

Viktor rests his head on your shoulder, allowing himself to close his eyes and savor the moment. You kiss his head and gently stroke his hair, cherishing these rare moments, knowing how precious they are when they happen.

"Today was a bad day," he finally says, his voice tinged with a quiet melancholy. "But, for some reason, it doesn’t feel as overwhelming with… with you here."

You smile softly, feeling warmth spread from his acceptance, from his openness. "I’ll always be here to remind you that even the worst days come to an end. And that you are stronger than you think."

He looks at you, and for an instant, the world seems to stop. His gaze, filled with gratitude and something deeper, envelops you. Before you can say anything more, you feel him leaning towards you, and in that moment, everything falls into place. His lips brush against yours with a tenderness that disarms you, a kiss soft yet laden with unspoken emotions.

When you part, just inches away, his eyes remain closed as if he wants to hold onto the moment a little longer. "Thank you," he murmurs, his voice barely a whisper.

You cradle his face in your hands, gently caressing his cheeks. "There’s no need to thank me, my love."

Jinx

The day had been chaos, even by Jinx's standards. Everything had gone wrong: a botched attack, crumbling plans, and to top it all off, an unexpected explosion that almost trapped her in her own trap. Now, she sat in her lair, surrounded by the wreckage of her shattered inventions, her breath short and pulse racing. Her mind, always a whirlwind, now felt like a hurricane of uncontrollable voices and thoughts.

The laughter of her imaginary "friends" echoed in her head, growing louder, mocking her. "Failed again, Jinx. You always fail." She pressed her hands against her temples, squeezing as if she could silence the voices. But the laughter wouldn’t stop, and the crushing weight of loneliness and failure bore down on her.

You approached cautiously, knowing that Jinx in this state was a minefield. But you also knew you couldn’t leave her alone in her internal storm. "Jinx," you called softly, keeping your voice low and calm. "I’m here, sweets."

She didn’t respond at first, her body tense like a spring about to snap. But as you drew closer, her bright blue eyes, wide and wild, met yours with a mixture of anger and desperation. "Why? Why do you keep coming back? Don’t you get it? I don’t need anyone. I don’t want anyone to see me like this."

"I’m not here to judge you," you replied gently, sitting down next to her without encroaching too much on her space. "I’m here because I care. Because I know that sometimes, even the strongest people need a breather. And there’s nothing wrong with that."

She let out a bitter laugh, dripping with sarcasm. "A breather? You think I can just... breathe and everything will be fine? That’s not how my head works. It’s... broken. Everything’s broken."

Your eyes softened at the pain in her words, the self-loathing and anger intertwining dangerously. Without much thought, you reached out, lightly touching her hand, hoping the physical contact might ground her somehow.

"Maybe you can’t fix everything right away," you said softly, "but at least you’re not alone in this boat. I’m on board with you, and I’m not getting off, even if we hit an iceberg." You joked to lighten the tense atmosphere.

She looked at your hand on hers, and for a moment, it seemed like she would pull away. But instead, her trembling fingers closed around yours, with a grip that betrayed just how desperately she needed something—someone—to understand her.

"Why do you care?" she whispered, her voice barely audible. "I’m a mess. Everything I touch... I ruin."

"Because you’re more than your mistakes," you said, squeezing her hand gently. "You’re strong, creative, and even if the world doesn’t understand you, I want to be here for you, to help you see that, even when everything gets tough."

Her eyes glistened with unshed tears, her voice breaking as she murmured, "I don’t know if I can do it... but thank you... for not giving up on me."

You smiled softly, leaning closer to her. "I’ll never give up on you. And you know what? Let’s make a deal. Today was a bad day, but just for today, we’ll do whatever you want. How about we start with some ice cream?"

Her eyes lit up slightly, though there was still a shadow of doubt in her expression. "Ice cream? Really?"

"Serious business," you said, smiling a little more. "Pick your favorite flavor. We’ll go get it, and then we can do whatever you want. You can draw, launch rockets, blow things up—whatever makes you feel better."

"Can I dye your hair blue?" she asked, her tone teasing but her eyes hopeful.

"Anything but that," you corrected, not quite understanding her obsession with wanting to dye your hair.

She burst out laughing, pressing a hard kiss to your cheek. "Just kidding, hon. I love everything about you, even your boring dark hair."

"Hey!" you playfully patted her shoulder.

Suddenly, her smile faded again, uncertainty flickering in her gaze.

"But what if everything keeps going wrong?"

"Then I’ll be here to pick up the pieces with you," you said, gently stroking her hand. "You’re not alone, sweets. Not today, not any day."

She launched herself into your arms, hugging you tightly, her body trembling slightly. "Thank you..." she whispered against your neck, clinging to you as if you were her anchor in a storm. And in that moment, you knew the only thing that mattered was her feeling your presence, your unwavering support.

Vi’s mind was still trapped in the ring, replaying the final moments of that crucial fight. She had bet everything on it—her money, her pride, her reputation. Everything hung by a thread, and she had lost. The cheers had faded, leaving only the echo of failure resonating in her head.

She limped back to her hideout, her knuckles bloodied and her jaw clenched. Dropping onto the worn-out sofa, she let out a frustrated growl, covering her face with a hand as she tried to contain the fury and humiliation. She had risked so much, and now it was all gone.

The whispers of her defeat spread like wildfire. You knew Vi wasn’t one to admit defeat easily, nor to ask for help. So, with a heart full of concern, you went to find her, worried about her state.

The door creaked open as you stepped inside. "Vi," you called gently, finding her on the couch, shoulders tense and gaze fixed on the floor. You approached cautiously and sat on the floor in front of her, your chin resting on your hands as you looked at her intently. "Are you okay?"

"I don’t need your pity," she snapped, her voice sharp but laced with vulnerability. "I’m fine. Just... need a moment."

"Vi," you said softly, "it’s just one loss. You’re incredible in the ring, babe, but you can’t expect to win every time. Besides, we learn more from our mistakes than from our victories. It’s okay."

"No, it’s not okay," she shot back, finally lifting her head to meet your gaze, her blue eyes filled with frustration. "I bet everything on that fight. Everything. And now I have nothing."

"That’s why I’m here," you responded, sitting beside her and gently taking her bloodied hand in yours, inspecting it with care. "You don’t have to carry this alone. Let me help you."

"I don’t want your help," she protested, trying to pull her hand away, but you held on firmly. "I don’t need saving. I can handle this."

"Vi, don’t be stubborn," you chided, your voice firm yet warm. "I care about you, and I’m not going to stand by while you drown over something we can fix together."

Her gaze softened, a mix of wounded pride and unspoken gratitude in her eyes. "I can’t take your money," she muttered, looking down again. "It’s not fair to you."

"Babe, if the roles were reversed, I know you’d do the same for me," you reminded her. "This isn’t about fairness or debt. It’s about caring for someone I love."

The last word hung in the air, making Vi look up again. "You... love me?" she whispered, as if it was something she hadn’t allowed herself to hear before.

"Love you? I’m crazy about you, woman!" you admitted with a chuckle, gently squeezing her hand. "And because of that, I’m going to help you through this. Take the money, just this once. It’s not weakness to accept help, Vi. It’s strength to know when you need someone."

She let out a deep sigh, her body relaxing slightly as the tension began to ease. "Alright," she murmured finally, her voice barely a whisper. "I’ll take your help... just this once."

"That’s all I needed to hear," you said, smiling softly as you caressed her hand. "We’ll get through this, together."

Vi looked at you, and for the first time that night, a faint smile curved her lips. "Thank you," she said, leaning toward you. Her hand suddenly slid to your ass, giving it a playful squeeze.

You looked at her, a mix of confusion and amusement on your face. She just shrugged, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

"What? It’s my way of saying thanks," Vi defended, following it up with a loud slap.

Laughing, you climbed onto her lap, leaning in close to her mouth, "Well, if I’d known your gratitude was this charming, I’d hope for favors more often."

Vi leaned in and kissed you, a tender kiss that spoke of gratitude and something deeper, needing no words. "I love you," she murmured against your lips.

"And I love you," you whispered, your lips still brushing hers.

Caitlyn

Caitlyn's office was silent, the only sound breaking the stillness was the soft scratch of her pencil against paper as she reviewed the reports that had come in. It had been a particularly difficult day for her. The weight of the decisions she'd had to make hung heavily on her shoulders, and her mind couldn't stop replaying the latest case she had been handling. Even though she tried to maintain her composure, you knew Caitlyn wasn't invincible.

You approached cautiously, gently tapping on the door before stepping inside. "Cait," you called softly, seeing her immersed in her work, her eyes glued to the desk, but her rigid posture betrayed her exhaustion.

She looked up and forced a smile. "Don’t worry, everything’s under control," she said, her voice slightly tenser than usual.

Leaning against the doorframe, you watched her with concern. "I know you're working hard, Cait, but this isn’t just about work, is it?"

She didn’t respond immediately, her eyes narrowing as if fighting herself not to admit what was clearly troubling her. "It’s nothing. Just... tough cases. Nothing you need to worry about."

You knew her too well. Something wasn’t right. Caitlyn always maintained her facade of strength, never showing vulnerability, but you knew even she had limits. You decided to step closer, gently removing the papers from her hands and sitting on her desk, right in front of her, catching her off guard. Her hands instinctively found your thighs, her fingers pressing into your skin as a silent sign of her pent-up stress.

"You're not doing this alone tonight, Cait," you told her firmly. "I know you feel the pressure, but you don’t have to carry it all by yourself."

She tried to smile, but the gesture only highlighted her fatigue. "I can't afford to show weakness. Everyone expects me to have the answers."

"That’s precisely what makes you human," you replied softly, cradling her face and appreciating her delicate features. "The burden of leadership, the tough decisions... it can’t all rest on you. If you need a break, you’ll take one. If you need to talk, I’m here."

Caitlyn remained silent, her gaze now locked onto yours, as if considering your words for the first time. You could see her defenses slowly crumbling, her breathing easing into a calmer rhythm. "Sometimes I feel like no one understands... how hard it is to keep everything together, always being the one expected to know what to do."

"I understand," you said, gently holding the hand that gripped your thigh. "And you don’t always have to have all the answers, Cait. It’s okay to feel lost. You can lean on me for these things and anything else."

She didn’t speak for a long moment, simply watching you, and for once, her face displayed a vulnerability she rarely showed. Finally, she sighed, letting the tension in her face melt away.

"I know," she murmured, almost as a confession. "Sometimes it’s just hard not to feel like a burden."

"You’re never a burden to me," you assured her, leaning in and wrapping your arms around her, your fingers tenderly running through her hair. She responded with a soft sigh of relief. "You’re the strongest person I know, Cait. And that strength doesn’t make you invulnerable. Don’t be so hard on yourself. You carry so much responsibility and expectation, and you handle it as best you can. You can share that with me too, love. I’m not in your life just to enjoy your company and admire your beautiful face."

With an intense gaze, Caitlyn gently squeezed your hand, displaying a rare tenderness. "Thank you," she whispered, her tone much softer than usual. "Thank you for this. For always being there when I need it. For knowing what I need when I don’t even know myself."

You moved a little closer and, without thinking, kissed her forehead, a warm and comforting gesture. "I’ll always be here, Cait. You don’t have to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders."

She closed her eyes for a moment, allowing herself to rest in your presence. And although the day's worries wouldn't vanish immediately, there was something about that small gesture, that silent connection between you two, that made her feel less alone. She knew that, no matter what, she would always have a refuge in you.

Jayce

The door creaked open, and instantly, the tension that Jayce carried with him filled the room like an unwelcome guest. He stood in the doorway, his figure worn down as if each step of his day had chipped away at his strength. His face was a canvas of frustration and exhaustion, the lines of weariness on his forehead barely hidden by his tousled hair. The warm light of home contrasted sharply with the cold night air, but even the comforting ambiance seemed powerless against the heavy burden he bore.

Without a word, you moved towards him, your presence a sanctuary in the storm he was weathering. You gently took his cold hands in yours and led him to the couch, where he sank down with a deep, weary sigh. The weight of the day clung to him, a cloak of responsibility and fatigue. He barely acknowledged you as you spoke.

"Rough day?" Your voice was gentle, laced with concern.

Jayce exhaled sharply, his exhaustion evident as he turned his head to you. "More than you can imagine." His tone was rough, frustration simmering beneath the surface. "Viktor and I... the experiment in the lab was a disaster. Then, the Council meeting... a complete mess. I’m not even sure how I made it back here tonight." His voice cracked for a moment, followed by a bitter laugh. "And tomorrow? I have to give that damned speech to the entire city. I haven’t even started writing it."

The air felt thick, laden with everything he couldn't put into words. You squeezed his hand, holding it with a tenderness that cut through the fog of his mind. "Breathe, Jayce. You don’t have to solve everything at once. One step at a time."

Instinctively, you sat behind him, guiding him until his back rested against your chest. You began to massage his shoulders, feeling the tension slowly seep from his muscles. Each movement of your fingers seemed to ease his burdens, though his sighs suggested the thoughts still swirled in his mind.

"I’ll help you with the speech," you offered softly. "We’ll write it together. You don’t have to face it all alone."

Jayce closed his eyes briefly, as if clinging to your words to prevent drowning in his thoughts. "But... it all depends on me. If I screw this up, the consequences are massive. I can’t afford to fail." His voice broke, and he sat up abruptly, anxiety gripping him once more.

"It’s just a speech, Jayce. It doesn’t define you." You wrapped your arms around his torso, holding him from behind. "What matters most to me is that it doesn’t destroy you. The city needs you, yes. But you need yourself too."

A long sigh escaped his chest, a release of some of the weight he'd been carrying. "How do you stay so calm through all of this? How do you have the patience to listen to my problems over and over?" His tone softened, a realization of what your presence meant to him.

"Because I love you, you big lug. And because I respect you," you said without hesitation. "Now... first things first. Dinner. I made your favorite." You whispered in his ear, the warmth of your embrace surrounding him, offering a sliver of peace. "Then, I’ll draw you a bath. You need to relax, to stop thinking about everything for a while. We’ll have dinner together, and afterward, we’ll stay up as long as you need. I’ll help with the speech. And if you need to rehearse all night, we will. The important thing is you’re not facing it alone. I’m here, Jayce, because I know how much this means to you."

Jayce let the silence hang for a moment, absorbing your words, your support the anchor he desperately needed. Slowly, he turned to look at you, his face finally showing signs of easing. "I don’t deserve you," he murmured, a small pout forming on his lips.

"Don’t be ridiculous. You’re my spoiled giant baby," you teased with a soft laugh, cupping his face with care.

Jayce chuckled, a low, grateful sound that was music to your ears, and you hugged him tighter, feeling the anxiety that had gripped him start to dissipate. "Can we stay like this a little longer?" he asked quietly, his tone vulnerable, more human than ever.

"Of course, love," you whispered. "There’s no rush tonight."

And there, between tender laughs and promises of unwavering support, time seemed to pause. In that moment, there was only the two of you, the warmth of home, and the certainty that, no matter what the next day brought, you would face it together.

Ekko

The sound of gears grinding and tools sparking filled Ekko's workshop, a familiar symphony that usually brought him a sense of calm. But today, the rhythm was frantic, almost as if he believed that focusing on the intricate mechanical details could help him outrun the weight pressing down on his heart. It wasn’t working.

"Ekko, what’s wrong?" Your voice was soft, almost a whisper, yet it cut through the tension hanging thick in the air. You could sense something was off, not just from the hurried way he moved but from the pallor that had taken over his face in the past few hours.

He didn’t answer right away. His fingers continued their precise dance over the wires and components, but there was a distant look in his eyes, a clear sign that his mind was far from the task at hand. Finally, he looked up, and though he tried to hide it, you could see the frustration and pain etched into his features.

"Things are... out of control," he admitted, his voice heavy. "The people of Zaun keep dying, and we can’t do anything about it. The illnesses are spreading, the air is becoming unbreathable, and the solutions... they seem further away than ever. How am I supposed to lead them when I have nothing to offer?"

His question lingered in the air, a cry of desperation in the stillness. Ekko had borne the weight of leading the Firelights since their inception. It was his strength, his refuge, yet also his greatest burden. Every day, he witnessed more of his people falling victim to the oppression and the harsh realities of Zaun, the toxic air swallowing those he cared about, and the seeming futility of their efforts gnawed at his resolve. What could one do when everything seemed stacked against them?

"Ekko," you approached him, gently taking his hands in yours. "Listen to me. I know what you're thinking. I know it feels like everything is collapsing, like there’s no way out. But you're not alone in this. You have the Firelights, and you have me. Caitlyn Kiramman might be able to help with this problem."

Ekko raised an eyebrow, confused. He knew Caitlyn, as an Enforcer, symbolized the oppressive system that had kept Zaun in misery, but he also knew you didn’t speak lightly. You must have had a plan.

"I don’t trust Piltover," Ekko muttered, his tone firm. "Or their damn Enforcers. How am I supposed to ask someone like Caitlyn for help? After everything they’ve done to us?"

"I know," you said, gently stroking his hands to calm him, "but hear me out. You're not just asking Caitlyn for help. You’re asking the person who owes me a few favors. Trust me. I think we can secure some supplies, maybe some of the medicines we need, at least to keep us going for a while. Something to help the Firelights keep fighting. Don’t see it as surrendering, Ekko; it’s a step towards giving us a real chance to make our voices heard."

For a moment, Ekko stared at the ground, lost in thought. It was clear he struggled to trust anyone outside his circle, especially someone like Caitlyn, who embodied Piltover’s oppressive power. But your words resonated with him, and for the first time that day, something inside him eased slightly.

"Maybe you’re right," he finally said, his voice low, as if only partially convinced. "But this... it can’t just be words. We need to do something real, something that actually makes a difference."

"We will," you assured him with a soft smile, trying to instill a bit of hope. "Together, step by step. Let’s start by talking to Caitlyn and see what we can secure. I don’t know how, but I believe we’ll make it happen."

Ekko looked at you, and for a moment, everything in his expression changed. The usual anger gave way to a mixture of gratitude and, perhaps, a hint of relief. He was exhausted, but the idea that not everything was lost gave him a tiny spark of hope.

"Thank you, babe," he murmured, his voice softer than before. "I don’t know how you do it. You always know what to say."

"That’s because I’ve learned how to deal with your stubborn, grumpy self," you said with a light laugh. "Now, how about we take a stroll through the city? Maybe a few hours of disconnecting will help."

A trace of a smile appeared on his face, though still tinged with fatigue. "What? Are you planning to make me forget all this by tagging the walls with graffiti?"

"Exactly," you responded with a mischievous grin. "That way, at least for a while, we can forget the world and do whatever we want."

Ekko finally gave in, his soft laugh filling the air as he grabbed his hoverboard. "You know, that sounds like a great idea. Let’s go before I change my mind."

And as you wandered the streets of Zaun, the weight on his shoulders didn’t entirely vanish, but for a while, Ekko could relax, paint his frustrations on the walls, and most importantly, remember that he wasn’t alone. Sometimes, all it took was stepping back and breathing, even if just for a moment.

Silco

The air in Silco's office was heavy, thick with the unmistakable scent of Zaun: metal, sweat, and burnt chemicals. Yet beyond those familiar odors, the room was saturated with the tension of recent events. The sting of failure clung to him, unsettling the usually composed mastermind. His meticulously laid plans had unraveled, and while his followers proclaimed loyalty, cracks in their devotion were becoming apparent. Zaun teetered on the brink of internal rebellion. The Firelights, the Enforcers, even the streets themselves seemed to be slipping through his fingers.

But what truly unsettled him, what gnawed at his very core, was the ever-present specter of betrayal, the fear of losing those who mattered most. In these moments, when chaos felt imminent, you chose to enter.

Silco stood with his back to you, staring out at the city’s dim lights through the window. You could sense the disquiet within him. His silhouette was somber, almost ghostly, with one hand resting on the glass. He seemed like a man who had lost faith in everything around him. Without hesitation, you approached him with a calmness that contrasted starkly with the storm raging within him.

"Silco," you began, your voice gentle but resolute. You refused to let his fragility consume him, not now. "We've faced this before. You don’t have to bear it all alone."

At first, he remained silent. The tension in his frame was palpable, and you could tell he was fighting a battle he wasn’t ready to share. Yet, you knew that struggle all too well. Beneath his layers of hatred and ambition lay a man as broken and vulnerable as any other.

Finally, he turned toward you, his eyes, usually burning with disdain, now dulled. "You don’t understand," he said, his voice low, roughened by a restrained fury. "This isn’t like before. It’s not just about winning anymore. It’s about maintaining control, about not losing everything. If I fail now, all we’ve built will be for nothing. What’s looming isn’t just a challenge—it’s war, and I need to be ready."

You stepped closer, studying the exhaustion etched into his face. His words were a glimpse into the turmoil that consumed him. "You will be ready. We will be ready. But isolating yourself in this downward spiral won’t help."

Silco’s gaze met yours, and for a fleeting moment, vulnerability surfaced. He appeared more human, less the monster Zaun feared. But his pride fought to keep that part of him hidden.

"I don’t need your pity," he said, though his words lacked conviction, a feeble defense against the truth you were unveiling. "Spare me the empty reassurances."

"They’re not empty," you replied, your voice steady. "I know what you’re feeling. This isn’t just about controlling Zaun. This is about you."

A heavy silence followed, thick with unspoken truths. Silco’s brow furrowed, not in anger but in contemplation. "It’s a war I can’t win. The city hates me, even my own daughter—"

"Don’t speak of her as if you’re some monster," you interrupted gently but firmly. "Jinx needs you, and you need her. This war isn’t just against Piltover, Silco. It’s against yourself. And if you keep fighting it alone, you will lose."

The room was still, the weight of your words settling in the air. Silco’s expression softened, touched by a realization he couldn’t deny. He wasn’t accustomed to being seen so clearly, to having his inner battles laid bare.

You took another step forward and, without allowing him time to withdraw, you took his hand. "You don’t have to do this alone," you whispered. "Not now, not ever."

For a brief moment, conflict flickered across his features, but then it happened—he relented. It wasn’t the surrender of a defeated man but of someone willing to trust, if only for a moment, that there was more to life than his solitary fight.

"I don’t know why you persist in keeping me upright," he murmured, his voice softer, laced with weariness. "Sometimes… sometimes it feels like too much."

"It’s not," you assured him without hesitation. "We’ll face it together. I won’t let you fall."

Silco said nothing more, but he didn’t pull away as you held his hand more firmly, a silent acceptance of your comfort. And for the first time in a long while, the cold steel of his demeanor cracked, if only for a fleeting second.

Mel

Mel's balcony was as sleek and cold, a testament to her meticulous nature. The soft glow of lanterns cast a gentle light over the cityscape, illuminating the endless sea of Piltover's lights below. Yet, amidst the serenity of the night, an unseen storm brewed within her. Tonight, her mind wasn't consumed with political maneuvers or strategic plans. Something far deeper gnawed at her: the weight of her ambitions had begun to manifest in ways she hadn't anticipated, threatening to fracture the carefully constructed facade of her life.

She stood by the railing, gazing out at the city that never slept, as if the twinkling lights could somehow chase away the growing void in her heart. You could see it—the tension in her shoulders, the way her fingers gripped the railing a little too tightly. She was a picture of composed authority, yet the subtle cracks in her armor betrayed the turmoil within.

"Mel..." Your voice, soft yet firm, broke the silence. You approached from behind, your footsteps light but deliberate. You didn't need to be loud; she had always been attuned to your presence, as if you existed in a part of her consciousness she couldn't ignore.

Mel turned slowly, her face a mask of unyielding calm, but her eyes... her eyes told a different story. They held a flicker of vulnerability, a silent plea she wasn't ready to voice. "What is it?" Her voice was cool, almost detached, but you knew better. The detachment was a shield, one she had crafted over years of political warfare.

"What’s wrong?" you asked again, your gaze unwavering as you closed the distance between you. You could sense her struggle, her reluctance to admit that something was amiss. "I can see it, Mel. You're not okay."

She sighed—a sound so heavy it seemed to carry the weight of the city. It wasn't frustration; it was the exhaustion of someone who had carried too much for too long. "It’s Piltover. My role in the Council... I can't keep up with it all," she admitted, her words slow, measured, as if each one was a reluctant confession. "I’ve been playing this game for so long, but the pieces are moving in directions I can’t control. And..."

Her voice faltered, and she didn't need to continue. You understood. This wasn't about Piltover alone. It was about her, about the toll her ambitions had taken on her soul. Here, on this balcony, she wasn't the indomitable Mel Medarda. She was a woman, weary and yearning for something she couldn't quite name.

"Mel, not everything needs to be under control. Not everything needs to be perfect," you said gently, stepping closer. "You can handle what’s happening in Piltover, but you don’t have to carry it all on your own."

Her eyes darted away, as if looking at you would make her break. She was so used to being the one in control, to bearing the burdens without complaint. "And if I fail... what then? What’s left after all of this? I've given everything to Piltover… everything."

Her voice trembled with a sadness that cut through you. Despite her steely exterior, you knew there was a part of her that longed for something more—connection, peace, perhaps even love. But the world she had built around herself left little room for such indulgences.

"If you fail, Mel, you’ll have the chance to start over. You don’t have to keep fighting for something that's slipping through your fingers," you said, your voice steady as you reached for her. "Sometimes, letting go of what we fear losing the most is what sets us free."

Mel's eyes met yours, and in them, you saw a vulnerability she rarely showed. She wasn’t used to conversations like this, to empathy. But in your gaze, she found something she hadn’t seen in a long time: safety, support, and perhaps... the promise of something different. Something better.

"I know it’s not easy," you continued, your hand gently brushing her arm. "But you don’t have to carry the weight of Piltover alone. You have people who respect you, who admire you. There are other ways to move forward without losing yourself in the process."

The silence that followed was thick, but not oppressive. It was as if the night itself was holding its breath, waiting for her response. For a moment, Mel said nothing. Then, her lips, always so carefully set in lines of authority, softened. "And if I fail… what happens to you?"

"You won’t fail," you said with a conviction that only you could have. "But even if you did, I’d be right here, helping you rebuild. Because what really matters isn’t the power or the control. What really matters is you, Mel."

For a second, she looked at you as if seeing you for the first time. The iron-willed woman everyone knew, the strategist, the leader, was now gazing at you with a newfound sense of recognition. And in that moment, she allowed herself a rare indulgence: she let her guard down.

"Maybe... maybe it’s not always about winning," she murmured, more to herself than to you. "Maybe you're right."

You smiled softly, knowing that Mel had just taken a step towards something beyond ambition—towards her humanity.

Sevika

The night had fallen with an oppressive stillness, but Sevika couldn’t find peace. The hours had dragged her into a whirlwind of stress and frustration. Each minute felt heavier than the last, and the air around her seemed thick, as if the city itself was pressing down on her chest. The decisions she had to make, the moves she had to plan, the constant need to watch over and protect her people… all of it had left her exhausted. But what weighed her down the most was the lack of control over her own life.

The shadows of the streets seemed to stretch out, enveloping her with an invisible pressure. Silco, as if things weren’t bad enough, was more erratic than ever, his paranoia brushing the edges of madness. To top it off, Jinx had played one of her twisted jokes: locking her in a room with a bomb that looked ready to explode. Sevika had been on the brink of death, only to discover that the bomb was a cruel joke, the kind only Jinx could conjure. If she had the time, she would have made sure the girl paid for it. She despised feeling vulnerable. But there was more. She had to deal with some of Silco’s men, and her day culminated with a direct punch to the face, leaving a visible mark on her otherwise stoic features.

On any other day, Sevika might have sought solace or at least retreated into the quiet of solitude, but today was different. No matter what she did, the sense of losing control gnawed at her insides. She needed to see you. She needed your presence, your calm way of looking at her and making her feel that everything, even if just for a while, would be okay.

Finally, the door creaked open. The sound of your footsteps was a balm to her weary spirit, and Sevika lifted her gaze. The damp night air lent a melancholic intensity to her eyes, now etched with fatigue and disdain. Though she tried to maintain her tough exterior, you quickly noticed the bruise marking her face.

“What happened?” Your voice, soft yet filled with concern, echoed in the room. Sevika tried to muster a smile, but it was futile.

“Just another day, you know?” she rasped, moving to lean against the table. She wasn’t about to crumble in front of you, but the exasperation in her tone was unmistakable. “Silco’s paranoid as ever. Jinx pulled one of her idiotic pranks… locked me in a room with a fake bomb about to explode. I thought I’d die there, amidst confetti and laughter. And if that wasn’t enough, one of Silco’s guys managed to land a punch on me.”

Your gaze, laced with worry and tenderness, softened instantly. You stepped forward, cupping her face gently, trying to ease the storm swirling inside her. Sevika stood still, unresponsive at first, but the hard lines of her face began to relax, even if only slightly.

“Why didn’t you call me?” you asked, your eyes never leaving hers, your words carrying a silent concern. You knew she hated appearing weak, but it didn’t matter; you would never see her that way. Sevika closed her eyes for a moment, letting out a long sigh.

“You know I don’t like to worry you.” Her tone was sharp, but softer than before. She could feel how your warmth affected her in ways she wasn’t ready to admit, but needed more than she was willing to acknowledge.

Without missing a beat, you acted. With a small smile, you stepped back a little, creating some space to prepare something that might bring her some comfort.

“Tonight, I’m making something special for my strong and sexy warrior,” you said, a mix of tenderness and teasing in your voice. “It’s not much, but I know you’ll like it.” You headed to the kitchen, and instead of a typical meal, you decided on something you knew would make Sevika smile: a homemade chocolate cupcake, with a hint of vanilla and a soft cream topping. While the sweet treat took shape, you thought about how this small gesture might lighten the night. The smell of freshly baked chocolate began to fill the air.

Sevika raised an eyebrow, unable to suppress a slight smile. “A cupcake?” she asked, almost playfully, though her voice held a softness rarely heard. “Am I a child needing comfort now?”

“Maybe,” you replied, smiling as you set the table. “Sometimes we all need something simple and sweet.” You playfully tapped her nose.

With the cupcake served and a cup of aromatic tea, the two of you sat together, letting the calm settle for a moment. As she savored the cupcake, your fingers brushed hers gently, as if that simple touch could convey something deeper. Sevika’s gaze, usually so hard and closed off, softened as it met yours.

“Thank you,” she whispered, almost with a humility that was unlike her. “I needed this more than I thought.”

“That’s what I’m here for,” you said with a gentle smile, intertwining your fingers with hers.

And in that moment, it didn’t matter what was happening in the outside world. For an instant, everything else faded away. Only that small space between the two of you existed, where love and understanding felt like the answer to all the burdens Sevika carried within.

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