#Viktor x Platonic!Reader

[aspenmissing]

Could you do arcane characters reacting to finding abandoned baby!reader? Pls?

ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ᴏɴᴇ?

ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ | ᴊᴀʏᴠɪᴋ | ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ | ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ | ᴊɪɴx || ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ/ᴀɴɢꜱᴛ-ɪꜱʜ

7274 ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ || ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ʙᴀʙʏ ᴀʙᴀɴᴅᴏɴᴍᴇɴᴛ, ᴘᴀʀᴇɴᴛᴀʟ ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ, ᴠɪᴏʟᴇɴᴄᴇ, ꜰɪɢʜᴛɪɴɢ

ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛ ᴀɴꜱᴡᴇʀ: ʜᴇʟʟᴏ ᴅᴇᴀʀ ᴀɴᴏɴ! ɪ ᴅᴏ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴜᴘ ᴛᴏ ʏᴏᴜʀ ꜱᴛᴀɴᴅᴀʀᴅ, ᴀɴᴅ ɪ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ ɪᴛ!

ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ | ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ | ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ | ᴊɪɴx

JAYCE

Piltover was quiet on this particular night, with only the soft sounds of the wind and distant footsteps breaking the silence. The streets were blanketed in a fresh layer of snow, casting an ethereal glow over the city. Jayce had just left the workshop, his mind buzzing with thoughts of new inventions and blueprints. The weight of the day hung on his shoulders, and all he longed for was the warmth of home and the solace of a cup of tea by the fire.

His path took him through an alleyway he’d often passed by without a second thought, the path worn but familiar. Yet tonight, something was different. A faint sound cut through the quiet—a weak, heart-wrenching cry that made Jayce’s heart skip a beat.

“Is someone there?” he called, his voice breaking the stillness, but the only response was the soft, pitiful cry that seemed to echo against the stone walls of the alley.

His brow furrowed in concern. He wasn’t sure what it was, but something in the sound caught his attention. Without another thought, Jayce stepped forward, moving deeper into the alley, his boots crunching against the snow beneath him. The distant streetlights barely illuminated the narrow passage, casting long, flickering shadows that seemed to twist and shift in the dark.

Then, he saw it.

In the far corner of the alley, huddled against the cold stone of a building, was a small, fragile form—a bundle of ragged cloth, shaking violently. The faint cry came again, though softer now, almost as though the child had no strength left to keep wailing.

Jayce’s breath caught in his throat. He quickly crossed the distance between them, his pulse quickening. Kneeling beside you, he saw the tiny figure wrapped in a torn cloth that looked as though it hadn’t seen a wash in months. Your face, little more than a faint outline against the dark fabric, was flushed red from the cold, your lips trembling as another shiver wracked your tiny body.

He reached for you, instinct overriding everything else. “Hey, it’s okay,” Jayce murmured, his voice soft but firm. “I’ve got you.”

He gently scooped you into his arms, feeling the cold that had seeped deep into your skin. You whimpered in his arms, your tiny fists shaking in the air as if reaching for something. Jayce’s heart broke. Who would leave a child out here, alone and freezing? The thought sent a sharp pang of anger through him, but it was quickly drowned out by the overwhelming need to get you warm and safe.

“Don’t worry, little one,” he whispered, cradling you against his chest. His coat was thick and warm, and he wrapped it around you as best he could, pulling you close as though to shield you from the bitter wind.

Your tiny form shivered in his embrace, and Jayce’s mind raced, his heart pounding as he thought about how he could help you. He’d been cold before— he knew the sharp, biting chill that crept into your bones and the exhaustion that followed. But he’d never imagined something like this—finding a baby, alone and vulnerable in the freezing cold of night.

Without another moment’s hesitation, Jayce stood, holding you tightly against him. He moved quickly, almost running, his boots pounding against the cobblestones as he rushed towards his home. The thought of what might have happened if he hadn’t found you gnawed at him.

==

His home wasn’t far, a simple place with modest furnishings but enough to offer comfort and warmth. The fire in the hearth crackled as he rushed through the door, slamming it shut behind him to block out the cold. The familiar warmth of the room wrapped around him, and Jayce immediately moved to the nearby sofa, laying you down gently on the soft cushions. The contrast between the warmth of the room and the chill that still clung to your skin made Jayce’s heart ache.

He grabbed a thick wool blanket from a chair nearby and draped it carefully over you, but the sight of your small, trembling form still pulled at his heart. There was no time to waste—he needed to get you warm, to make sure you were going to be okay.

Jayce’s hands worked quickly, though with a careful gentleness. He pulled off his own coat, draping it over you before going to the fireplace to stoke the fire higher. He didn’t want to leave you alone for too long, so his movements were quick and purposeful.

As the fire crackled, Jayce grabbed a fresh cloth, dipping it in warm water, and began gently wiping your cheeks and brow. Your breathing had slowed, but your skin was still cold to the touch. He murmured reassurances to you as he worked, soft words meant to calm both you and himself.

“Stay with me, little one,” he whispered. “You’re safe now.”

Once he was certain you were warm enough, he turned his attention to your hunger. There was milk in his fridge, and though Jayce was inexperienced with children, he figured it would have to do. He grabbed a sippy cup bottle he had been using for an experiment, relieved he’d decided to clean it earlier. He warmed it on the stove, his mind racing with thoughts of how to care for you. His heart felt full with something he hadn’t expected—a deep, protective instinct that surged as he prepared to feed you.

When he returned to your side, you were still awake, your little eyes blinking up at him. The sight made his heart swell. Carefully, Jayce cradled you in his arms again, gently guiding the bottle to your lips. You took it eagerly, your small hands grasping at the bottle, as if you instinctively trusted him.

“Good girl,” Jayce murmured, smiling down at you. “You’re so strong.”

Once you finished, he wiped your chin with his thumb, chuckling softly at the little mess you’d made. The warmth of the fire, the milk, and Jayce’s steady presence seemed to lull you into a peaceful sleep.

As Jayce sat back, holding you close in his arms, he couldn’t help but reflect on how his life had changed in a single moment. He had been alone—focused on his work, consumed by the demands of his inventions and the weight of his ambitions. But now, with you in his arms, he realised that there was something far more important than any invention. There was this—this fragile, helpless life that needed him.

“You’re not alone anymore,” Jayce whispered, his voice full of conviction. “I’ll take care of you, no matter what. You’re family now.”

And with that promise, he held you close, the warmth of the fire and the safety of his home wrapping around you both as the snow continued to fall outside, a new chapter beginning for the two of you.

VIKTOR

The streets of Zaun were darker than usual that night, the usual hum of machines and the faint clatter of industry buzzing in the distance. Viktor, as always, found himself traversing the lower city, his mind consumed by thoughts of his latest invention, a device that could bring the promise of progress to both Piltover and Zaun. The cold air bit at his skin, but Viktor paid it no mind—he was used to the chill, as he was used to the struggle of progress in Zaun.

His cane clicked softly against the cobblestones with every step, the sound blending with the constant hum of the city. Viktor’s body bore the marks of his years of work—the brace on his leg creaked with each movement, and the support of his back brace was a necessary burden. He had built so much, but his body, strained and fragile, bore the weight of it all.

Lost in thought, he barely noticed the bundle at first. It was tucked against the wall of an old, dilapidated building, the kind that seemed to be a part of Zaun’s very bones. At first, he thought it might be just another stray animal, some forgotten debris, but then came the sound that pierced through his concentration—the faint cry of a child. Soft. Fragile.

Viktor’s steps faltered, and his gaze snapped toward the source of the noise.

A child? Here, in the heart of Zaun?

He paused, his breath catching in his chest as he scanned the alley. The darkness seemed to stretch around him, the shadows deep and unyielding. There was no sign of anyone else—no frantic parent, no guardian, no one to claim the child as their own. Just you, wrapped in ragged cloth, your tiny body trembling in the cold.

The world around Viktor seemed to slow. His sharp eyes took in every detail: your small, vulnerable form, the way your hands clenched instinctively at the cloth, the faint red tint of your chilled cheeks. You were so small, so helpless. His heart, usually so guarded and focused solely on the pursuit of progress, tightened in his chest. The cruelty of Zaun had claimed many lives, but a baby? This was a different kind of tragedy.

Viktor took a step back, his cane tapping against the ground as he moved, his mind a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts. His life had been dedicated to progress, to building a future where suffering like this would not exist, yet here it was—raw, unrelenting, right in front of him. He had never been one to nurture or care for others, but in this moment, something stirred within him. He knew he couldn’t just walk away. Not now.

The cry of your tiny voice grew louder, more desperate, and with each sob, Viktor felt something he hadn’t expected—a deep, unexplainable sense of responsibility. A need to protect. He hesitated for a long moment, his thoughts racing. It was a risk, taking you. He had no experience with children—hell, he barely had experience caring for himself at times—but the weight of your cries, the weight of your life in his hands, made it impossible to turn away.

With a quiet sigh, Viktor muttered to himself, “It appears I have no choice.”

He approached you cautiously, his movements deliberate. As he knelt down, the sharp whir of his cane echoed in the silence of the alley, a contrast to the softness of the moment. With great care, he extended his arm, gently lifting you from the cold ground. Your eyes fluttered open at the sudden movement, wide and full of confusion. When you looked at him, your gaze seemed to hold something innocent, something trusting, and in that moment, Viktor felt a strange connection.

“You are safe now,” he whispered, though he wasn’t sure who he was trying to reassure—himself or you.

You whimpered softly, but you didn’t struggle. Your tiny body, bundled in the tattered cloth, was still cold to the touch, and Viktor couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt. He could feel the chill in his bones, but to see you, so small and frail, exposed to it—it was almost too much to bear. His legs, encumbered by the brace that supported his weakened joints, felt heavy, but he powered through the pain, moving with the kind of resolve he only ever seemed to have when faced with an impossible decision.

He straightened, using his cane to support his weight as he carefully cradled you in his arms. The brace on his leg creaked with every step, and the pressure on his back made him wince, but he ignored the discomfort. He had no choice but to keep moving forward. His thoughts were focused solely on getting you somewhere safe.

As Viktor walked, his mind wandered briefly to the name he would give you. He didn’t even know if you had one—who would leave a child here, alone, in the cold? But as he watched the steady rise and fall of your chest, the way your little hands curled slightly around his coat, he decided.

“Y/N,” he murmured softly, as though testing the name. “I think that suits you.”

He wasn’t sure why he had chosen it, or why it felt so right. Perhaps it was because he had always believed that names carried meaning, that they defined people in ways that no other word could. And for you, this name felt like a promise—one of protection, one of care. A promise Viktor wasn’t sure he could keep, but one he would try to fulfill nonetheless.

“I’ll take you somewhere safe” he whispered again, more to himself than to you, as he began walking toward Piltover. The journey was long, and the weight of your small body in his arms was a reminder of just how fragile life was. It wasn’t just the streets of Zaun that made him feel the cold; it was the knowledge that so many others had been left behind, forgotten. But not you. Not now.

JAYVIK

It was a typical afternoon for Jayce—well, as typical as life in Piltover could be. He’d just wrapped up a marathon of meetings and was on his way to the lab, eager to discuss some new ideas with Viktor. His steps were brisk, confident, his mind racing with plans for the next big breakthrough. But then, in the blink of an eye, everything changed.

Out of nowhere, a woman appeared, breathless and panicked. Before Jayce could say a word, she practically shoved a small bundle into his arms. “Take care of her!” she gasped, turning and bolting off into the crowd like a phantom, disappearing without a trace.

Jayce stood there, frozen, holding a tiny baby in his arms. His eyes widened as the baby blinked up at him, her face utterly serene, as if she hadn’t just been handed over to the most bewildered person in all of Piltover. Jayce glanced back at the crowd, but the woman was long gone.

“Uh… excuse me?” Jayce muttered, his voice more to himself than to anyone else. He then looked down at the baby, looking into her eyes. “Uhm... Hello?"

Still unsure of what to do, Jayce adjusted the baby in his arms, attempting to look somewhat comfortable, even though his internal panic was through the roof. The weight of her in his arms was oddly reassuring, like a grounding force. It wasn’t until he started walking toward the lab that it hit him: He had no idea how to care for a baby. Wasn’t he supposed to have training for this? Or at least some sort of basic manual?

Jayce reached the lab, pushing the door open with his elbow. Viktor was hunched over his workbench, entirely absorbed in his latest project, his cane leaning against the table nearby. Jayce walked in, trying to look nonchalant, but the baby shifted in his arms, making soft cooing noises. Viktor didn’t look up.

“Well, Viktor,” Jayce began, tone a bit more strained than he intended. “I’ve acquired a baby. Not sure if it’s permanent, but... here she is.” He shifted the bundle, clearly still getting used to the tiny form in his arms.

Viktor didn’t flinch. His mind was already too deep into his calculations, completely ignoring Jayce’s dramatic entrance. He continued working, lost in his world of gears and wires. Jayce sighed, glancing down at the baby, who was now staring up at him, as if wondering the same thing he was: What the hell just happened?

“Viktor!” Jayce raised his voice a little, just enough to get his attention. “What exactly am I supposed to do with her?”

Viktor’s hands froze. He didn’t turn around immediately, just processing the words. Then, slowly, he twisted in his chair, finally noticing the small bundle in Jayce’s arms. His brow furrowed as he took in the scene. Jayce, looking utterly unprepared, was holding a baby. Viktor blinked, his gaze widening.

“You… have a child.” Viktor’s accented voice was flat, but there was a flicker of amusement beneath it. “I didn’t realise you were that committed to your... new projects.”

Jayce, still adjusting to the reality of the situation, gave Viktor a sheepish grin. “Well, she’s not exactly my ‘project,’ but a woman just thrust her into my arms and ran away. I didn’t get much of a choice"

Viktor eyed him with mild disbelief. “And you thought to bring her here? To the lab?”

Jayce, now feeling the full weight of the absurdity of it all, chuckled awkwardly. “Well, where else was I supposed to take her? Besides, she looks like she might be your responsibility too now, right?”

Viktor stared at him for a moment, the smirk on the edge of his lips barely visible. “You’re the one who’s going to have to deal with the shrieking and dirty diapers, Jayce, not me.”

Jayce shot him a look. “Yeah, I definitely didn’t sign up for this. But now I’m here, and she’s here…” He glanced down at the baby, who was now staring up at him with wide, innocent eyes. “So... what do we do with her, Vik”

Viktor paused, running a hand through his hair, his cane resting against the bench. “I suppose we could look into some kind of care routine. For now, though, I’m not sure what kind of expertise I can offer. I’m not exactly a nanny.”

Jayce let out a deep sigh, shifting the baby yet again. “I didn’t even know I was capable of holding a baby. I feel like I might drop her at any second.”

Viktor walked over, eyes scanning the situation with a hint of concern hiding behind his sarcastic tone. “Well, she does seem to have latched on to you. Maybe you do have some hidden paternal instincts.”

Jayce rolled his eyes. “Please, Vik. This is a disaster.”

The baby made a soft noise, like a little giggle. Jayce glanced down, and to his surprise, the baby was actually smiling up at him. A tiny hand reached out and grabbed the collar of his shirt, tugging slightly.

Jayce looked at Viktor, wide-eyed. “Did she just—?”

Viktor, trying to hold back a chuckle, said, “It seems she has chosen you, Jayce. You’re her new father now.”

Jayce sighed, defeated. “Well, looks like I’m not getting out of this one. Great.”

Viktor’s lips twitched into a rare smile. “Perhaps I should offer a little guidance, then. We could make a few adjustments to her care routine... Maybe even design a more efficient formula dispenser.”

Jayce shot Viktor an incredulous look. “You just don’t know when to quit, do you?”

Viktor, now fully enjoying the moment, shrugged nonchalantly. “What can I say? I’m always looking for improvements.”

Jayce chuckled in spite of himself. The lab, with its machinery and gadgets, suddenly felt warmer, more alive. As the baby cooed softly in his arms, he couldn’t help but think that, maybe, this wasn’t so bad. And perhaps, just perhaps, Viktor’s teasing wasn’t so unwelcome after all.

“Guess we’ll figure it out together,” Jayce muttered, glancing down at the tiny bundle in his arms with a soft smile.

Viktor’s expression softened as he leans against the workbench, his cane resting against the table. He looked at Jayce, who was now leaning against the workbench besides him, still holding the tiny baby in his arms. There was a quiet tension between them, the weight of the situation still settling in.

“I suppose so,” Viktor said with a sigh, his lips curling into a faint smirk. “Just don’t expect me to change any diapers, Jayce. You’re on your own with that.”

Jayce smirked back, the corners of his mouth twitching into a rare grin. “Well, I didn’t exactly sign up for this, either. But I think I can manage.”

For a moment, the two of them stood in a comfortable silence, both adjusting to the strange reality of their new situation. Jayce glanced down at the baby, her small form so fragile in his arms, her calm presence oddly comforting. She was looking up at him, her eyes wide with curiosity, as if trying to make sense of her surroundings.

“What should we name her?” Jayce asked quietly, glancing over at Viktor for some input.

Viktor raised an eyebrow, clearly taken aback by the question. “You’re asking me to name a child?”

Jayce shrugged, still holding the baby gently. “Well, she didn’t exactly come with instructions.”

Viktor let out a small sigh, his lips curling into a slight, amused smirk. “I suppose… Y/N. It’s simple, but it suits her. Strong, gentle.”

Jayce looked down at the baby once more, his eyes softening as he tested the name. “Y/N…” he murmured, almost to himself. It felt right—simple but meaningful, a name that carried both strength and tenderness.

“Y/N,” Jayce repeated, his voice taking on a rare warmth. He looked down at the tiny bundle in his arms again, feeling a sense of responsibility settle in. “Alright, Y/N. I guess we’re in this together.”

Viktor stood beside him, his gaze lingering on the baby. He gently reached out with a finger, brushing it lightly against Y/N’s cheek. The touch was soft, almost tender, as if he, too, was coming to terms with the new reality.

As Viktor’s finger lingered against Y/N’s skin, Jayce’s expression softened. For the first time in a long while, the lab felt less like a place of intense work and more like a home—a place where something new was beginning.

And in that quiet moment, with both men standing side by side, the strange chaos of the day seemed to settle into a surprising sense of calm. Jayce, Viktor, and little Y/N—a new chapter in their lives had just begun.

VANDER

The streets of Zaun had always been unpredictable. One moment they were alive with the energy of its people, and the next, they were smothered in the oppressive silence after a failed rebellion. Vander, a man who had seen it all in this crumbling city, was no stranger to the aftermath of violence, but this time, something was different.

The sounds of chaos had barely faded when Vander stumbled upon the wreckage of a collapsed building. The air was thick with the scent of smoke and blood, but there, amongst the rubble, something caught his eye. A soft cry, faint but unmistakable, echoed from the twisted remains. His heart skipped a beat as he pushed through the debris, his hands trembling as they reached for the small figure beneath the rubble.

It was a baby. A tiny girl, barely old enough to be away from her mother’s care, and yet here she was, alone. Her mother lay lifeless beside her, a victim of the violence that had taken so many lives. Vander’s stomach turned, but he didn’t hesitate. Carefully, he scooped the baby up in his arms, her small form looking so fragile against his broad chest.

He didn’t know what to do. He wasn’t a father. He had his own responsibilities, his own battles to fight, but this child... she didn’t deserve to be alone. The weight of the decision pressed heavily on him. What kind of life would she have in Zaun, with the city falling apart around them?

As he made his way back to the house, cradling the baby in his arms, his thoughts were a storm of confusion and concern. Felicia had always been the one to take the reins when it came to caring for children. Vi, barely a year old, was still young and needed constant care. Vander couldn't help but wonder how they would adjust to the new addition. How could he care for this girl when his own life felt so uncertain?

Felicia was busy at the stove when he walked in, her eyes immediately narrowing as she saw the bundle in his arms.

“Vander?” she asked softly, her voice laced with surprise. “What’s this?”

He hesitated, looking down at the baby, whose eyes were wide with innocence, unaware of the violence that had just claimed her mother’s life. He sighed heavily, rubbing his brow. “I found her, Felicia. After the fight. Her mother didn’t make it.” He paused for a moment, unsure of how to explain. “I... I don’t know what to do with her.”

Felicia, ever the practical one, took in the situation with a quiet assessment. Her gaze softened as she approached, her hands instinctively reaching out to take the baby from Vander’s arms.

“We’ll figure it out,” she said, her voice calm and reassuring. “You’ve got a good heart, Vander. She’s lucky you found her.”

Vander watched as Felicia adjusted the baby in her arms with practiced ease, the same gentle movements she had used when handling Vi when she was a baby. He felt a pang in his chest. He wasn’t sure he was cut out for this. He wasn’t a father, not really. He was a protector, a fighter, but this was a new challenge. How could he take care of a child who had already lost so much?

Felicia glanced up at him, noticing his uncertainty. “You’re going to be fine. Don’t worry about it too much.” She began to rock the baby gently in her arms, offering Vander a reassuring smile. “The first thing you need to know is that she’ll need feeding. Don’t forget that, or you’ll be in for a rough night.”

Vander nodded, his brow furrowing in concentration as he listened. Felicia was always the voice of reason, the calm to his storm. “I’ll figure it out,” he said, though he wasn’t entirely convinced.

As Felicia spoke more about feeding and settling the baby, Vander couldn’t help but steal glances at her. There was something so delicate, so helpless about the tiny girl in Felicia’s arms. The idea that he was now responsible for another life, one so vulnerable in this cruel world, unsettled him. But the more he watched Felicia, the more confident he became in his ability to do this.

He could protect her. He could provide a safe place for her, just as he had always done for the people in his life.

Vi’s tiny voice echoed from the other room, the sound of her giggling as she tried to walk, still unsteady on her feet. Vander turned to look at her through the open door, his heart swelling with love for the little girl who had been a part of his life since her birth. She was still so young, her wide eyes full of wonder as she explored the world around her. He had always been her protector, but now, this new child needed him too.

Felicia handed the baby back to him, and this time, he took her with a bit more confidence. The little one squirmed in his arms, making small cooing noises, and Vander’s heart melted. He hadn’t realised it before, but the connection he felt for this child was already beginning to form, even if it was just the beginning.

“What’s her name?” Felicia asked, breaking his thoughts.

Vander hesitated again, looking down at the tiny face in his arms. He hadn’t even thought about that yet. “I... don’t know. She doesn’t have anyone left, Felicia. It doesn’t feel right naming her after someone who’s gone.”

Felicia smiled softly, her eyes warm. “Then you name her, Vander. She’s yours now, too. Give her a name that means something to you.”

Vander looked down at the baby once more, feeling the weight of the moment. He could hear the sounds of Vi’s laughter in the next room, her tiny feet pattering against the floor, and the occasional soft squeal of a toy being thrown to the side. This little girl would grow up alongside her and he would do everything in his power to give her a life filled with love and safety.

His mind drifted for a moment, and then he spoke softly, the name feeling right as it left his lips. “Y/N. She’s Y/N.”

Felicia’s eyes softened with approval. “Y/N it is. A good name.”

Vander gently rocked the baby, her soft breaths filling the silence of the room. As the first rays of light filtered through the windows, he felt something shift inside him. He wasn’t just Vander the enforcer, the protector of the Undercity. Now, he was a father, and this child—this little girl—his little girl—would be his to care for, his to protect.

And with that, Vander silently vowed to give Y/N the life she deserved, to raise her as one of his own, with love and protection in a world that had taken so much from so many.

SILCO

In the heart of Zaun, the air was thick with tension as Silco and his men faced off against a rival faction in the dimly lit alleyways of the undercity. The deal, once promising, had rapidly spiralled into chaos, with gunfire ricocheting off the grimy walls and explosions shaking the very foundation of the city. Silco’s gaze never wavered from the task at hand. His mind was a steel trap, calculating, assessing. He barked orders to his henchmen, directing them to hold their ground.

"We can't afford to lose this," he snarled, voice edged with irritation as his men worked tirelessly to push back the ambush. His hands clenched at his sides, not from fear or panic, but from the growing frustration that this wasn’t going according to plan. Explosions rattled the nearby buildings, sending bits of debris raining down, but Silco stayed focused, a storm of calculations swirling behind his steely eyes.

Then, as the violence unfolded, Silco’s sharp ears caught something unexpected—a faint sound, so soft at first, it seemed like an illusion. The high-pitched cry of an infant.

For a heartbeat, Silco thought he had misheard. But the cry rang out again, unmistakable. A baby.

His eyes snapped toward the source of the sound, his usual cold expression betraying an emotion that was far more vulnerable—surprise, maybe even something softer. He had no time for innocence. No time for the helpless. He had a city to control, power to grasp. And yet, this sound, this fragile call for help, resonated somewhere deep within him.

Without thinking, he ordered his closest men to continue fighting.

"Hold them off. I'll be back. Keep them distracted, do whatever you must," Silco commanded, his tone firm but sharp, leaving no room for questioning. His men hesitated for a moment, confusion flickering in their eyes.

"Boss, what about—?"

"No questions," Silco interrupted, his voice steady, commanding. "Get to work."

His body was a blur of movement as he darted through the crumbling building, dodging debris and stepping carefully over shattered glass. The sounds of distant gunfire and shouting barely registered as his mind zeroed in on the cries, growing louder with each step. The building around him was unstable, shaking with every explosion. Yet Silco pressed on, his every movement deliberate and purposeful.

At the far end of the room, amidst the wreckage, he saw it—a small crib, overturned in the chaos. A bundle of old, frayed fabric sat next to it, the sound of the child’s cries filling the room. He knelt carefully, his heart inexplicably stilling at the sight of the tiny, trembling infant. The baby’s face was scrunched with distress, its small body shaking as it cried for someone to help.

For a moment, Silco stood frozen. He had no use for softness, no room for care when it came to the world of Zaun. Yet, in this moment, he couldn’t look away. There was something about this fragile life, so delicate, that made his usual ruthless exterior crack, just slightly.

His heart, an organ he thought he had long since abandoned, stirred with an unfamiliar sensation. He couldn’t explain it, nor did he want to. Silco was a man of control, but this was something that defied control.

He moved quickly, scooping the baby up in his arms, holding her close as if he could protect her from the crumbling world around them. The cries lessened as his presence seemed to calm her. It was unsettling, the way she responded to him, but he didn’t dwell on it. The building was collapsing, and he needed to get out.

With the infant cradled securely in his arms, Silco made his way back into the fray. The sound of gunfire rang out once more, but he paid no mind. His men moved to form a protective barrier around him as they made their way towards the alley, ensuring no harm would come to their boss or the child in his arms.

As they moved swiftly through the maze of ruined streets, Silco glanced down at the baby. Her tiny hand gripped his finger tightly, her soft skin warm against his cold, calloused hand. His expression softened for a split second—his gaze lingering on her face, something akin to protectiveness flickering in his eyes before he quickly masked it. The weight of the child, so small, seemed to add a new layer of responsibility he wasn’t used to.

==

They arrived at the Last Drop, and Silco’s men ushered him inside, and as he walked through the door, his eyes caught sight of Powder sitting on the far side of the room, her eyes wide and curious. She had been waiting for his return, the explosion of the earlier chaos still reverberating in the air.

Powder’s gaze flicked immediately to the baby in Silco’s arms, her brow furrowing as she watched them carefully, questioning, uncertain.

"Who’s this?" Powder’s voice was small but filled with confusion, her eyes darting between Silco and the baby.

Silco paused for a moment, his hand tightening around the baby, almost protectively. “She’s… someone I need to look after,” he said, his voice softer than usual, more reluctant than he intended.

The room was silent for a long moment, Powder staring at the baby with wide, curious eyes, her brow furrowed in confusion. She tilted her head, taking in the small bundle Silco was cradling with an intensity that seemed to grow with every passing second. The silence stretched, and then Powder’s voice broke through.

She frowned slightly, her expression thoughtful. “She doesn’t have a name, does she?”

Silco’s gaze flicked briefly to the baby, his eyes narrowing slightly, as if the thought had never crossed his mind. Names weren’t important to him—not in the way Powder seemed to imply. People were tools, pawns in his game for control, not individuals deserving of such personal things.

But the way Powder spoke, the way her eyes held a softness he hadn’t seen before, made him pause. Something tugged at him, a fleeting emotion that was hard to pinpoint, but it lingered in the air between them.

“She’s just a baby," Silco muttered, as if it should be obvious, yet the doubt in his voice betrayed his uncertainty.

Powder’s frown deepened. “She needs a name," she said, the quiet certainty in her voice almost like a gentle reprimand. She took a few steps closer, her tiny hands reaching out towards the baby, and her gaze softened. “She can’t just be… nobody.”

For a long moment, Silco watched her. He didn’t quite understand it, but he couldn’t ignore the weight of her words. After a long silence, he exhaled, the sharp edges of his usual coldness dulling just a little.

“Fine," Silco said with a slight shrug, trying to brush off the moment as if it were unimportant. “What would you name her, then?”

Powder considered the baby for a moment, her eyes thoughtful, then she glanced up at Silco, a small, tentative smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

“Y/N,” Powder said softly, her voice warm, as though the name itself was a declaration. "Y/N sounds like she’s... meant to be."

Silco didn’t respond at first. He just stood there, staring at the baby in his arms, the weight of her smallness grounding him in a way he didn’t expect. Then, almost imperceptibly, he nodded.

“Y/N,” he echoed, the name settling in his mind. It was strange. Foreign. But it felt... right, in a way he couldn’t explain. Something about it felt final, like it belonged to the fragile life in his arms. Something he hadn’t known he needed.

“Y/N,” he repeated again, this time with the faintest trace of a promise lingering in his voice.

POWDER/JINX

Jinx was skipping through the streets of Zaun, her wild hair bouncing with every step as she hummed a tune only she seemed to know. The city was her playground, and today, just like every other day, she had a dozen schemes brewing in her mind, each one more chaotic than the last. Explosions, pranks, and a little bit of mayhem were the order of the day, and she was loving every minute of it.

She darted between alleyways, giggling to herself, and tossed a few explosive doodads behind her as she skipped away, watching with delight as they detonated in showers of sparks. It was perfect. Zaun was perfect.

But then, something caught her attention. At first, it was so small and insignificant that she almost walked right past it. A bundle of cloth, tucked into a corner near some rubble, barely visible behind a pile of discarded crates. But then—there it was again—a faint sound, a little whimper.

Jinx stopped mid-prance, her head snapping to the side, eyes narrowing in curiosity. She took a few steps closer, her heart thumping in her chest. She peered down at the small bundle.

A baby.

Jinx tilted her head, eyeing the infant with a mix of curiosity and confusion. She’d never been one for babies, but something about this one seemed… off. It was alone. Why is it all alone?

She stood there for a moment, unsure of what to do. Maybe someone had left it here? Maybe it was a trap—one of those strange Zaun things she never quite understood. But before she could give it another thought, the sounds of barking and growling interrupted her musings.

She turned sharply, her bright blue eyes locking onto a group of stray dogs coming around the corner. The mangy pack was heading straight for the baby, their teeth bared, growling low in their throats. The hairs on the back of Jinx’s neck stood on end.

“Uh-oh,” Jinx muttered under her breath, her mischievous grin fading for the first time that day. Without missing a beat, she sprinted forward, her boots thudding against the cobblestones.

With a wild scream and a manic twinkle in her eye, Jinx flung herself into the pack of dogs, arms flailing as she let out a battle cry. “Shoo! Go away, you ugly mutts!”

The dogs yelped in confusion and fear, scattering in all directions as Jinx jumped up and down, flailing her arms like a lunatic. The moment they were gone, she turned her attention back to the baby, who, of course, had started crying.

“Great. Now look what you’ve done, you little screamer,” Jinx said, crouching down with her arms outstretched dramatically. “Couldn’t just stay quiet, could you?”

Jinx scooped the baby up effortlessly, holding her as though she were a prized possession, though her wild, erratic movements made it seem like the baby was more of an afterthought. Y/N’s tiny fists were clenched, and her crying only seemed to get louder as she was cradled in Jinx’s arms.

“Shhh! Quiet down!” Jinx cooed, her voice far too loud for a baby’s sensitive ears. She bounced on her heels, rocking Y/N back and forth. “Come on, no need to be all cry-y-y about it! Everything’s fine! I saved your butt from those gnarly dogs! You owe me, little one!"

The baby’s crying only escalated, and Jinx sighed dramatically, rolling her eyes.

“Alright, alright!” Jinx grumbled. She lifted the baby higher, her grin returning with a hint of sweetness. “I get it. You're scared, you're hungry, you're probably thinking 'What the heck is going on?' and honestly, same. But I’m Jinx! The one and only Jinx! And I’m gonna make sure you’re safe... for now. So quit crying already, it’s makin' my head hurt!”

Y/N’s cries didn’t stop, but they slowed, her tiny body pressing against Jinx as she tried to calm down. Jinx huffed, crossing her arms with a pout, clearly frustrated but secretly amused.

“Well, that’s as good as I’m gonna get,” she grinned, tapping the baby’s tiny nose. “You’re gonna be alright. And I guess... I guess you’re kind of cute.”

Jinx squinted down at the baby, her lips curling into a lopsided grin as she rocked back and forth. “But, you’re totally my sidekick now. You can’t just scream like that all the time. You’ve got to be a cool sidekick. Shhhh,” she whispered again, this time softer than before, as if the very concept of calming the baby had caught her off guard.

The baby’s hiccup was so quiet, so small, but Jinx caught it. Her lips curled into a crooked smile, and she gave a little satisfied nod, clearly pleased with herself for at least calming the little screamer down, even if just a little.

"See? Not so bad when you stop yelling, huh?" she grinned, bouncing the baby a bit as she continued to march down the alley. "I guess you’re not totally hopeless."

Y/N’s tiny hands gripped at one of Jinx's braids and for a moment, the chaos of the city around them seemed to fade. There was still the hum of machinery in the background, the occasional shout from passing Zaunites, and the distant whir of a hovercraft zooming by. But in this moment, it was just Jinx and her new... well, sidekick.

Jinx thought for a second, her eyes flicking from Y/N’s scrunched-up face to the crooked streets of Zaun ahead of her.

"Alright, alright, kid," Jinx said, her voice softening but still with that unmistakable quirk of madness. "We can’t just keep calling you baby all the time. You need a real name... Something cool, like me!"

She paused for dramatic effect, glancing down at Y/N with a grin that could only belong to Jinx. "I mean, you’re gonna be famous one day, right? Everyone’s gonna know you. You gotta have a name that makes people go wow."

Jinx tapped her chin thoughtfully, her wild eyes darting around as she searched for inspiration. "Maybe… Boom-Boom?" she suggested with a mischievous twinkle in her eye. But then she quickly waved it off. "Nah, too obvious."

Another moment passed, and then she snapped her fingers with an exaggerated gasp. "I got it! Y/N! Yeah, yeah, that works. Y/N. It's... mysterious. It's cool. It's got that punch to it. Like—BAM!" she added, making an explosive gesture with her hands as if the name itself was a firecracker.

She beamed down at the baby, who was now squirming gently in her arms, eyes blinking up at her in confusion. "You’re Y/N, kid. And you’re gonna be the best sidekick this place has ever seen. That’s a promise!" she added with a dramatic wink.

With a newfound sense of pride, Jinx lifted her arms high, holding Y/N like some strange, glittering trophy. "Alright, Y/N, time for some fun!" she said, spinning around again and nearly tripping over a loose piece of scrap. "Let’s go make some noise!"

And with that, Jinx—her new sidekick in tow—took off through the streets of Zaun, the two of them ready to cause more chaos. But this time, with a little bit of unexpected sweetness in the mix.

[the-odd-shu]

Lab shenanigans

Characters: Viktor, Jayce, Reader

A thread following the chaotic trio that is, laboratory illustrator!Reader, Viktor and Jayce being unsupervised in the lab.

Note this takes place during season 1:

Gender Neutral!Reader who got hired as the lab illustrator because neither Jayce nor Viktor can draw and they need an illustrator to document all their official papers with recognisable diagrams of their inventions.

The next part

Masterlist

Reader who was just freshly been employed as the lab illustrator, sitting diligently at their new desk whilst Jayce fetches the research folder and Viktor tinkers away in the background.

Reader who lets Jayce set down the heavy folder on their desk, which holds all of the pair's research as well as hundreds of cruedly drawn sketches of inventions such as the Hexclaw and early drafts of the Hexgates, drawn by both himself and Viktor. (They are not drawn well, and it is only because most of the drawings are labelled with big, obnoxoious arrows that you actually know what you're looking at).

Jayce pausing in his explanations of the tech on each page and his promises to pull everything out of storage when you need it for a refence, slowly trailing off when he catches sight of your reaction to the drawings: "Why are you making that face?"

Reader who is diligently flicking through the pages and trying not to crack up at the poorly drawn stick figures, and the messy, uneven parallel lines of wires and robotic arms, and the scribbled oblong that is supposed to be one of the gemstones. They're not half bad attempts from people who focus their energy and time into math equations and flowery research papers, but that doesn't mean they're not amusing to look at.

"What face? I'm not making a face."

Reader turns all of their attention down to the pages and proceeds to fail at smothering their snort as the concept sketch of one of the Zaun suits. They push the folder back along the desk, to create enough space to prop their elbows on the table, to pinch the bridge of their nose hard to try and school themselves into some form of calm.

"Why are you laughing?" Jayce asks, sounding geniunely confused.

Whilst Reader tries to save face by responding, "I'm not. I'm just- uh, coming to terms with how much work I have ahead of me."

Jayce frowns.

The commotion has caught Viktor's attention.

"Well, it is a lot." Jayce allows, "but we won't rush you. The deadline is months away after all, and if-"

His words fade into the background in your mind as Viktor chooses then to roll over on his wheelie office chair to see what's going on, only to immediately grin in understanding. He rolls his chair up on the adjascent side of your desk, mouth pulled into a wicked smirk as he points to a particularly wobbly zaun suit drawing. "That would be one of Jayce's masterpieces."

Jayce lets out an offended noise, whilst Viktor takes malicious joy in flipping through the folder to point out which other drawings were done by Jayce. Most of them are wobbly and uneven, but have clearly been mapped out with steady, slow care.

In retaliation, Jayce swipes the folder out of Viktor's gleeful hands, and pointedly flips to a fresher page dated back to a couple of days ago. You catch a glimpse of the title 'hexcore', scrawled across the top in confident letters, before Jayce is turning the folder back to you and loudly proclaiming the work of art as Viktor's.

[The ‘hexcore’ has been drawn with wobbly, uneven lines that lacked the sleek, parallel look of the actual subject, with poorly recreated runes that did not at all take into account perspective or foreshortening.]

Reader loses it at the attempt, whilst Jayce and Viktor continue to squabble with one another in the background.

I just NEED all three of them to spend countless hours in that laboratory getting stuck in their respective tasks (creative Vs Scientific) and all three of them come out aching and satisfied by the time the janitor comes round to kick them out for the night, despite doing jobs that require different parts of their brains. The overlap of countless, almost unsolvable equations, with the hours of staring at a blank page and slowly but surely coaxing out an image, it just so precious to me somehow.

Bonus points of course, if Jayce and Viktor are getting really into a scientific debate across the room by the chalkboard, flinging enormous words back and forth at one another, whilst Reader slowly dies inside trying to make the metal part of an invention LOOK like metal.

I just need Reader allowing the background muttering and excited exclamations to sooth them as they carefully draw another diagram above a neatly scrawled out text box of the pair's latest concept.

Jayce: “Yes! That could work! What do you think, Y/n?”

Reader: Head snaps up at being addressed. “Uh…”

They blue screen as they come back to reality and realise they haven’t moved in hours and their back and neck desperately ache from the movement. They're suddenly starving, and hungry, and really need to pee, but didn't notice before because they were so engrossed in their work. Kind of like how the other two get about their research.

Viktor being a night owl and working on projects late into the night.

Jayce being smart and taking cat naps on his desk because he's an early bird, but a deadline is coming up and he refuses to be defeated by exhaustion.

And then you have Reader. Who is not being supervised in the kitchen, where they've made their fifth coffee and with shaking, caffeinated hands, they begin pouring in a generous helping of a Piltover energy drink.

Viktor hears the can pop.

He says your name warningly. "You better not be making that culinary monstrosity again."

Instead of responding, they knock back the whole mug in desperate gulps, ignoring the rancid taste and shivering from the mix of burning liquid with the pop of hundreds of tiny bubbles.

The mug gets slammed loudly back on the counter. Viktor sighs heavily and pushes his wheelie chair towards Jayce's desk.

He wakes him up, with a prod of his cane into his side.

"I'm about to have a breakthrough." He explains quickly motioning to his desk. Blary eyed and clearly not fully awake yet, Jayce nods along. Viktor points dramatically to Jayce and then in the direction of the kitchen. "You're on assistant duty for the next half an hour."

The tiredness leeches out of Jayce's face. "They didn't-"

"They did."

"But they've already got caffeine shakes!"

"Tell that to the sound of the kettle bubbling away and the pop of a can lid. It has already happened Jayce. All we can do now it keep the damage to a minimum."

On silent feet, Reader's shadow appears on the other side of the desk. Both men jump. The light overhead casts their face into shadows and somehow makes their eyes glow. It is a terrifying sight.

Viktor recovers first. "We need to put a bell on you!"

"Kinky. Now, whatdoyouwantmetodrawnext?!" Their assistant rushes out in a single breath.

And both scientists pale. It was already beginning then.

The next four hours consists of Jayce struggling to keep his eyes open whilst Reader pokes fun at him and offers up their 'creation', Jayce firmly declining and trying to get on with his work, whilst Viktor keeps to himself and snorts periodically at the banter.

Reader draws and draws and then rubs out, before diligently getting back to drawing again. There is a frenzy to their marks. A wildness to their eyes. The scratch and scritch of their pen, getting lost amongst the sound of cogs turning and screws tightening and Jayce's yawning. So much so that when it suddenly ceases, neither of the scientists notice at first.

Not until Viktor asks for a warm tea, only for the previously eager assistant not to respond. He lets out a fond sigh, Jayce straightening up from his own work.

Reader is passed out on their sketchbook, having FINALLY crashed.

Viktor gets up to make his own tea.

Jayce shrugs off his jacket, and puts it over their shoulders as a makeshift blanket. The man has such broad shoulders that it practically swallows the assistant from sight, but they do not stir.

"That'll give them an awful neck ache tomorrow." Viktor observes aloud.

Jayce snorts. "Maybe it'll be enough of a punishment to stop them making that foul concoction."

"Unlikely."

Jayce just shakes his head and collapses back onto his desk and lays his head down on his arm. "Ten minutes." He mutters out before closing his eyes.

Viktor hums. And by the time he gets his tea back to the desk, his partner is out like a light, just as he had predicted.

"I CANNOT believe you're making me do this Jayce." Viktor exclaims sarcastically.

"Viktor. Please let me get that cog for you. Just this time. Please!"

"Oh no, no, do not get up on my account." Viktor firmly dismisses as he shimmies down his cane, one hand over the other all the whilst making exaggerated groaning noises.

Jayce is practically vibrating in place. "Please! It is literally all the way under that side board. Can I just slide it out for you? You can pick it up yourself."

"Oh no, do not strain yourself!" Viktor insists, sitting himself down on the floor, one hand holding his cane up as he shoves his other arm under the side board.

"VIKTOR!" Jayce all but whines, and takes a step forward.

"Ah!" Viktor immediately reprimands. "Y/n get the spray bottle!"

You've been watching the entire scene in amusement from your desk. Quietly giggling at Viktor's ribbing and Jayce's desperation to be useful. They make a rather amusing duo.

Jayce's eyes have jumped up to you. Frozen mid-step, eyes pleading.

You grin, pointedly reaching across the gap between yours and Viktor's desks to grab said spray bottle.

On the floor, Viktor makes a triumphant noise, before straightening up and brandishing the cog above his head. "Got it!" He exclaims, before slamming the blasted thing onto the side board. Then he tries to clamber back up his cane to his feet. He is unsuccessful as his leg decides not to co-operate this time.

He sighs. "Jayce." He says heavily, "as punishment for making me get down here in the first place-"

"What?! I've literally been-"

"As reprimand for your dastardly crimes. You are obligated to offer me one hand. But ONLY one, or your punishment shall evolve into death by spray bottle." Dramatically, he holds out his hand to his exasperated partner.

In support, you give the spray bottle a little squeeze in Jayce's direction, to which he shoots you a dark look. You merely grin back.

Then Jayce offers Viktor his hand, their fingers wrapping around the others wrist. "Slow." Viktor instructs, as he readjusts his legs into the right position. Jayce nods.

Then Jayce gently pulls Viktor up as Viktor balances between his feet and his cane.

"Thank you." He says, patting Jayce on the cheek, before promptly turning on his heel to retreat back to his desk.

They're so silly, I love them so much.

The next part

[animeshotsh]

Housing | Viktor x Jayce x Kid!Reader | Arcane ¤

Summary: Moving out its a pain.

Warnings: PLATONIC - Fluff - SFW - Grammar mistakes - More Viktor than Jayce - OFF CANON EVENTS - GN reader - Reader is nicknamed Spark -

Jayce groaned as he lifted the last box and left it inside the new living room. He could see the mess and was feeling tired already.

It was luck that Vi and Caitlyn were able to get off from work and help him and Viktor move.

When you met Vi you were scared of her, but Vi saw you as how her sister used to be. So she adapted soon to you. And in no time she had you in her arms.

Caitlyn was happy for her friend, nodding at the house and how you were taking Viktor's hand to show him around (even if Viktor himself did pick the house). Jayce just blushed but smiled feeling his heart bump quickly.

As night came the only two rooms that were ready were the bedrooms. The room destinated for home lab had all the things inside and was secured with a key. And the last room was left with half empy boxes.

The five of you were now eating some takeout, Vi, Caitlyn and Jayce did most of the talk while Viktor made sure you did not choke eating the delicious food.

"So, when its the weeding then?" Vi asked joking getting a caught from Jayce and an annoyed look from Viktor "I mean, you two have a kid already"

"Mom and dad married?" You asked now getting a soft pet from Caitlyn

"They are so cute" She said cleaning around your mouth

"They are" Viktor responded ignoring Vi question as she let herself fall on the chair in fake hurt.

~~~~~~~~~

The next days passed by moving boxes, getting rooms ready and just making the house feel like a home.

Your room was Jayce and Viktor first task at hand. It was big enought so you could also play there. When deciding the wall color Jayce said blue and Viktor said how it would make the room look sad.

Then Jayce suggested painting above a blue base, different shapes from animals to some of their own equations on the wall. Viktor had give it a long thought then decided it was a good idea.

Of course you also helped, adding your printed hand on the wall then asking Viktor and Jayce for the same.

It was a beautiful piece of art full of love.

They also decided to adds some lights to turn during the night in different shapes.

Moving to their own room was easier, they decided that a plain white wall was alright.

The storage room was full with boxes and things they needed to sort out.

Their home lab was a room secured with a key. So no, you could not enter on your own. They had smaller things there, but a big board and lots of notes and pappers filled the room within the first week. Jayce even decided to use the window to write down equations.

Viktor learned to love this home lab. He could leave his notes there and take them back at the Academy, was able to enjoy a nice breakfast while working there. And he could pass a good amount of time of the morning with Jayce and you.

He never once thought food could teast better when being in good company, no. His brain commanded his way of seeing life, even with his mother and later Jayce food was the same. And he did love both of them dearly.

But with you, running around, showing your draws, how you were slowly learning the alphabhet or how you would ask one of them something from a book they had gifted you.

He wanted to get his flavor sense checked, because why did now his coffee teast better? Why were these coockies so sweet? Was because you had fed him one? Why did dinner feel warmer and like a small party each night?

No, his mind could not understand. But he was happy and so were Jayce and You, so for him that was enought.

[am-i-interrupting]

Across the River | Extra

@night-fall-moon gave me the tiniest push so here we are! Aside, look at this young Sevika art.

Hardheads

Summary: Background into how you got your fighting style. Specifically, some important moments in time where you had a woman of incredible loyalty right beside you.

You held the dart between your fingers. Short and chubby as they were wrapped around the steel. You let out a small grunt as you threw it.

“Good job, my dear,” your uncle praised.

The dart was just a bit below the red center ring, near the middle of the single rings.

He adjusted your position on his shoulder. “You’re getting better,” he said.

You reached for the darts. You collected the four you’d thrown. All of them crammed in your small hands.

“Before you know it, they’ll be beating your streak, Sevika.”

Your breath caught in your throat as your head whipped around to the woman. She’d always been a bit of a mystery to you. You didn’t know really anything about her. Well, other than the fact that she was tall and her voice was nice to listen to and she was really pretty.

A chuckle came from the woman causing you to smile. “I think it’ll be a while but whatever you say, boss man.”

You pulled lightly on the hair that was tied up at the base of your uncle’s head. “Again!” you insisted.

He smiled and walked back to where he had been. You threw one dart. It hit the singles. Your second was in the doubles. Your third was down in the singles again. You grunted to yourself.

“Keep your elbow more leveled,” Sevika told you from her seat where she was shuffling cards.

You looked over at her. Her hands moved fast and dexterous. Practiced motions made the cards slide from hand to hand. She handed out cards with a grace and ease.

Her hand brought her drink up to her mouth. The black of her lipstick rubbed off on her mug. Her eyes ran over the cards in her hands. Then they flickered up and met yours.

She glanced at the board and then back at you.

You breathed out of your mouth, slow and steady. Your teeth pulled at your lip and your brow furrowed. You took a moment and tried to run through your throw. You did it once, twice, three, four times. You continued until you felt like you headed her words.

With your elbow more leveled, you released the dart from your fingers. Time seemed to slow as it sped through the air. Anxiety gripped your heart and held it tight. The breath seemed to be stolen from your lungs.

You screamed and your arms went up in the air. Your uncle nearly dropped you due to your sudden movement and sound so close to his ear. He caught you with your body now pointed towards Sevika.

“Did you see?! Did you see?!” you asked her.

“Yeah, good job, kid,” she said as she reached out and patted your shoulder before she put her attention on her cards again.

You squealed and spun around in your uncle’s arms so he was cradling. Your legs kicked in excitement.

“I got a bullseye, Uncle Sil!” you yelled for the whole bar to hear.

“Yes, you did. I’m proud,” he told you as he adjusted his grip on you to be something more secure.

Several people, your parents and other uncle included, crowded around to see what the four year old’s first bullseye. Barely able to be considered but just inside the red ring enough.

The Last Drop was more empty now than it ever had been. You were one of the four people inside the public area.

You kept throwing darts and missing. You should be doing better than this but your mind was going wild. It was racing and you couldn’t keep up. So many thoughts going through your head and you had no idea where to start.

“Hey, kid,” a familiar, smoked voice said, “can I join you?”

You looked over and saw Sevika. Her hair all down to her shoulders now when it used to go past them. Her face was devoid of any of her usual makeup. Several shallow cuts on her face were likely the reason why.

It’d been only two days since everything that happened. The cuts were already scabbed over how but the few bruises you could see peaking out of her clothing weren’t fairing nearly as well.

You handed a dart off to her. She threw it. It landed in the triple ring. Despite not preforming to her normal standard, she was still doing better than you. Most of yours were in the singe rings

Neither of you said anything for a while. The bar was silent. Not even a song came through on the jutebox. No hushed conversations. Just the sounds of darts being embedded into a board and the occasional clicking of something against glass.

It was an eerie silence that left you uneasy. It did nothing to help your racing thoughts.

“You can do better than that,” Sevika said when one of your darts landed in the white.

“So can you,” you fired back dryly.

She sighed in response. “Listen, kid, I—“

“I don’t want an apology,” a loud thunk, “or any sympathy,” another thunk, “or any of the meaningless words everyone’s been saying for the past two god forsaken fucking days!” a third think. “You can’t do or say anything—“ you walked towards the board and jerked out the darts— “that will make anything better so if you’re not going to say something useful just leave me alone.”

A hand was laid on your shoulder. Your head leaned forward as you slumped. Another thunk against the board.

“Come here, kid,” she said as she wrapped her arms around you.

Your head was guided into her shoulder. She was warm and steady. She smelled like smoke and alcohol. Your hands were limp at your sides but hers pressed you closer.

“Your parents were good people,” she told you. “They died fighting for the cause. You can’t surrender because they can’t fight anymore. You’ve got to stand up and fight harder. Piltover won’t know what hit them when you start fighting.”

“I don’t know how,” you admitted. “Without them I don’t know how to fight. It’s too much.”

“I’ll teach you,” she promised.

Your hands wrapped around her waist. You held onto her like a lifeline.

“Patience is one of the most important things in a fight,” Sevika said as the two of you circled each other. “If you move too fast you risk opening yourself up to vulnerabilities but if you move too slow you lose your opponent’s. Make sense?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. Let’s go again.”

The two of you circled around each other, hands at the defense. Neither of you moved for a long couple of moments. You simply watched one another.

Sevika took a step forward. You mimicked her. It didn’t take long for the two of you to go from several feet away to several inches.

She swung at you. You dunked down. You took the opening to punch at her torso, just below her ribs. She went back. You moved forward. She reached again. This time her hit got you upside the head.

You winced as you stumbled. The world was blurry for several seconds.

Sevika’s hands gripped your shirt and pulled you toward her. Her head reared back and then banged against yours. Your head pounded in agony as the world went back to nonsense.

She pushed you. You fell backwards.

“We’re gonna have to work on that too,” she said. “Make you a bit more hardheaded.”

You blinked several times before you were able to make out the dark figure of your mentor. Her hand was extended to you as she leaned down. Her hair blew ever so slightly in her face.

You grabbed her hand and allowed yourself to be hauled up.

“Or maybe you should let me do brain surgery on you and get out that metal in your skull,” you said.

She laughed as she threw her arm around you. “You’re funny, kid.”

[x-reader-things]

Opening up requests for Arcane again cause I need to practice writing requests again-

Make sure to look at the rules and character list before requesting though!!

[verybadatwriting]

I'll admit, I was a Goody Two Shoes so my parents never had to show up to the principal's office, but I love fics where that happens!

Sandbox Fight

Warnings: slight cursing, mentions of small fights, arguments, let me know if I missed any :)

Pairings: Hargreeves siblings x niece reader, Diego Hargreeves x daughter reader

Request: Hello!! Could I please request a Diego Hargreeves x child!reader (around 10 maybe) where she gets into a fight at school but Diego isn't available so all his siblings take his place when they go to the school to talk about it, but eventually he comes and just walks in and sees all his siblings and is like: wtf.

Request by: @your-local-lover

*not my gif*

Summary: Your father was unavailable, but you needed someone. How about a lot of someone’s? Like all your favorite uncles and aunt?

A/N: This one was fun to write

Please don’t plagiarize my work, you may reblog if you like but I’m asking that you don’t steal my hard work

“She did not!” Klaus gasped dramatically, as if gossiping, into the old fashioned phone, putting a hand over his mouth for good measure.

“What’s going on?” Allison asked, walking into the kitchen and looking around in confusion.

Viktor was sitting at the table with his head in his hand, using his other one to drum his fingers across the wood of the tabletop and glancing up at Klaus every once in a while. And Luther sat across from him, eating a sandwich.

The blonde haired man shrugged, taking another bite of his food as Klaus shushed all three of them.

“Don’t you worry,” He continued to speak to the person on the other side of the call, “I will be there right away.”

With that he hung up.

Barely a second later he started giggling into the hand that he put over his mouth.

Five walked in and rolled his eyes slightly, “What’s got you grinning like an idiot, over there?”

“I-“ The man giggled again, “I just got a call from Y/n’s principal saying that her parent or guardian needs to go to the school right away because n/n got into a fight!”

Everybody’s jaws dropped, “N/n got into a fight?” Luther asked in shock, unable to picture you fighting anybody.

Only for the fact that your father threatened to ground you for life if you ever did again, not because he didn’t think you wouldn’t gladly get into a fight. You were your fathers daughter after all. Diego was always up for a fight, and you didn’t take his threats lightly, especially since you were only ten years old and in a phase where you took everything said to you very literally.

“But Diego’s out of town for the day.” Allison frowned.

“I know!” Klaus exclaimed happily, “That’s why I’m going in his place!”

“Are we sure that’s the best idea?” Viktor gave him a meaningful look.

He just moved his hand, as if waving off the idea, “Oh, yes, everything is going to be splendid.”

Allison’s hand shot in the air, “Am I the only one who feels like we need to stop that?”

“How about we all go?” Five suggested, rubbing his temples to ward off an oncoming headache.

Viktor shrugged in return and Allison nodded.

Klaus clapped his hands together, “Ooh, wonderful! Let’s go right away!”

“Wait guys!” Luther shouted, mouth full as he tried to stuff down the last of his sandwich while watching his siblings leave the room.

Right before exiting the house, Klaus made sure to leave a message- in very messy handwriting- on a paper near the door telling Diego to go to your school ASAP once he got back.

The ten minute car ride over was filled with screaming, fighting over control of the aux, Five almost getting pulled over for speeding, and Ben appearing and then wishing that he hadn’t.

After parking, everybody filed- more like stumbled- out of the car and in through the doors of the main office, their speaking volume nearly giving the elementary school receptionist a heart attack.

Five had been the one to calmly step forward and tell her that they were here for you- your aunt and uncles- and she had been too busy pointing a shaky finger at the waiting area to even question the clear differences between all of them.

After about five minutes of Ben and Klaus arguing over a seat, Luther falling asleep in his own, Five reading a discarded newspaper, and Allison and Viktor looking like they wanted to be with anyone but them, the principal's office door opened and they were all beckoned in.

They quickly piled in, quickly taking in the sight of you sitting in a chair facing the principals large desk, with a small girl and her parents a couple feet away.

As soon as your uncles and aunt filled the room, you looked up with a large grin, jumping into Viktors arms, “Vicky!” You cheered, hugging him tight.

Your principal was quick to clear his throat obnoxiously before your uncle could even hug back, “Ms. Hargreeves, that is no way to behave.” His scolding was very unnecessary in the eyes of your relatives.

He clearly hadn’t been expecting all these people, because there were only two chairs next to you, which Allison quickly sat down in, and Klaus pushed Luther out of the way to sit in the other.

“Which one of you are her parents?” He asked quite rudely with a raised eyebrow.

“Oh, that would be none of us.” Five spoke up from the wall he was leaning against, eyes narrowing, “We are her uncles and aunt, her father couldn’t make it at the moment.”

The principal's eyes quickly cast down to his desk, uncomfortable, “I see.”

The other girl's mom, who’s whole family had been yet to say anything, finally spoke up, “I believe we should get started?” Her words were a question, but her tone was a demand.

“Yes, very well.” He said, sitting up straighter and adjusting his tie, “As you had been informed earlier, Y/n started a fight today at recess.”

“Wait,” Allison said, holding up a hand and raising an eyebrow, “She started the fight?” She found that hard to believe.

After Diego’s threat about being grounded for life, you had been so scared to never eat dessert again that you didn’t even play-fight with Uncle Luther anymore.

The mom was quick to nod, “Oh, yes. She obviously hit my daughter first, and then she only hit back out of self defense.” Her voice was matter-of-fact and snotty.

Five rolled his eyes, “Shocker, your daughter only hit back out of,” he held up air quotes, “‘Self defense’ when Y/n would never start a fight.”

The woman whipped around, nostrils flaring, “Is there something you would like to say to me, young man?” She challenged.

Just as he was about to push off the wall to accept the challenge, Viktor put a hand on his shoulder to calm him down, “Why don’t you tell us what happened, Y/n.”

You finally looked up from your spot where you had been kicking the ground, and watched the reassuring faces of your family as you spoke, avoiding eye contact with the glaring mother and father on the other side of the room.

“Well,” You mumbled sheepishly, “I was just trying to play in the sandbox when she came up to me and told me that it was her sandbox and that if I didn’t get out she would hit me.” You took a deep breath before continuing, “I said no because it was still my turn, but she didn’t like that so she threw sand in my eyes and pushed me. And when I was falling my leg accidently hit her and she fell down too.”

When you finished you had tears in your eyes.

Once your family saw this, it made Allison sit up straighter, Klaus become more serious, Luther’s eyebrows to furrow, Ben to glare at the other girl slightly, Viktor to reach out and rub your back comfortingly, and for Five's fists to clench.

The principal studied you for a moment before slowly turning to look at the other little girl, “Is that what happened?”

At first she shook her head, but then you glared at her and snapped, “You get into more trouble if you lie about it then if you tell the truth.” Something your dad used to say to you when you would deny eating the last cookie after he told you not to.

Her eyes widened, and then the tears began flooding out of her eyes.

She let out a sob as they continued cascading down her cheeks like a waterfall and she hiccuped a couple times before saying, “It’s true! I did do that!”

Her parents' eyes widened as they looked down at her and their mouths opened and closed like fish.

From behind you, all your uncles and aunt adopted smug looks.

“W-well she should have just gotten out of the sandbox!” Her mom stuttered out, standing up and pointing at you accusingly.

Then all hell broke loose.

That was the last straw for your family.

Allison stood up immediately and started a yelling match with the other mom, each one of them getting louder every time sound came out of their mouth.

The dad started glaring at you and Luther immediately moved in front of you to block his view of you, Five following close behind.

Both of them began snapping at the man, telling him off and giving him a good scolding.

The little girl, who was still crying, had started to bawl even harder and Klaus came up next to her and started telling her about the time he lied and his nose grew.

He didn’t exactly tell her that it didn’t actually happen to him, he was just talking about the old movie, Pinocchio.

Even though nobody could see him, Ben was glaring at the principal, who looked around nervously, as if he could feel someone watching him.

Just then, the door opened, but nobody seemed to notice, even you were too busy watching everything else going on around you.

“What the-“ Diego asked, stopping short when all the chaos in the room immediately shut off as everyone noticed his presence.

“Oh!” Klaus looked delighted as he turned around, “Did you get my note?”

“Yeah, I got the note.” The man said, eyebrows furrowed in both confusion and concern.

“Daddy!” You cheered, hopping out of your chair and running into his arms.

This time, the principal was too afraid to scold you.

After that, Allison had flipped her hair over her shoulder dramatically and taken you out of Diego’s arms, strutting out of the room, the rest of your family quickly following.

It was safe to say that the principal or that girl never seemed to have a problem with you again after that. Your family just seemed to scare them too much. You honestly had no idea why.

Even better though, you weren’t even grounded for getting into a fight, Uncle Klaus then used that as an excuse to take everybody out to ice cream. With Five buying, of course.

The Hargreeves 🦹- @lovanitu @your-local-questioning-agender @jvdethirlwall @ineedmorefanfics2 @sambucky8 @spidyyparker @mukbee

[hermaeusmorax]

What have you done?

CHARACTERS: Jayce x reader, slight Viktor x reader (more platonic!)

SUMMARY: you, Jayce and Viktor share history. You're arguing with Jayce about his actions in the Undercity. Reader is described having a metal arm!

WARNINGS: SET IN SEASON 02 EPISODE 06 SPOILERS AHEAD! this is very angsty, descriptions of death and bodies, gets steamy in the end (minors DNI!), enemies to lovers type shit (my jam!)

A/N: okay so this is my very first piece after a 4 years HIATUS (hiii haha), anyways, fucked up Hexcore!Jayce is just sooo *twirls hair*

"What have you done?" You scream as you blindly lunge towards Jayce, a random weapon tightly clutched in your hands — no doubt discarded by some, now dead, Noxian soldier. You could barely see an inch in front of you due to the surging chaos, but you were sure about Jayce, you would never mistake him, his silhouette, his scent.

It had been months since Jinx's attack on the Counsil. Months since Viktor emerged out of the Hexcore changed, taking you to Zaun with him and leaving Jayce behind. You were a chemist, Viktor's childhood best friend that stuck by him since the very beginning. You and Jayce had a brief, intense, spark. It happened before him and Mel, before it became hard to grasp his attention, being Piltover's golden star and everything. It hurt when you left him, standing at the laboratory, his pleading brown eyes boring holes into yours and Viktor's backs. But Viktor was right, your paths, your visions, had long strayed, being held together only by lasting affection.

In Zaun, at Viktor's — The Herald's — growing community, you acted as a chemist again. Helping the newly cured zaunites, researching to improve their lives as much as possible. You had been specially busy since Vander's arrival, severely mutilated by Viktor's former teacher and in desperate need of help. You were working in your makeshift lab, absent mindedly humming a familiar tune when hell broke loose.

A loud, sharp sound echoed, followed by more crashing sounds and piercing screams. Smoke rose in the air, making it almost impossible to inhale. For a split second you could hear Viktor's voice in your head whispering, "Jayce", you ran as fast as your legs permitted, desperate to locate the origin of the sound, to locate Viktor. When you finally did find them, you wished you hadn't. The starking image of his limp and dead body made your breath hitch, mind speeding so much to make sense of things it made you dizzy. Blood rushed to your ears, making a deafening ringing sound, you rubbed your eyes, squinting to adjust, then you saw another figure, a tall and dark frame.

Jayce looked, different, but your brain had no time to process that information as you grabbed the first weapon you could find thrown on the floor, lunging at him. "What did you do?" "How could you?" "I hate you!" you breathlessly shout, aiming for Jayce's head with your stray weapon, then again, you never were much of a fighter, that was Jayce's job. The last thing you heard before the world went complete black, was his voice, a cry of your name, sounding so broken and lost.

"Sorry for knocking you out like that. I hope your head's not hurting too much." you heard Jayce's soft voice, distant at first as you were regaining consciousness, then close, right at your ears. You slowly woke up, blinking the throbbing pain away you were at last able to recognize your surroundings.

Jayce had brought you to your old laboratory, right at Piltover's heart, where you had last seen him, where you had left him. You were sitting in a chair, your mechanical arm resting on the table beside you, laying alongside dirty, well-worn tools. "I fixed it. Your arm. It looked broken and I-" Jayce blurted out, stopping with a nervous chuckle when you looked at him. "My technique might not be as delicate as Viktor's but it's fixed, working. I promise!". When Viktor's name left Jayce's lips, a haunting image of his corpse flashed in your mind, compelling you to leap forward and forcefully grab Jayce's collar, gripping so tight your knuckles turned white, drained of blood. You were trembling horribly, fueled by an ugly mixture of grief and hatred, your words came out hoarse, stinging like a whip.

"You promise? Ha! You killed him Jayce! You- you just disappear and then when you finally come to us, you go and kill him? What's wrong with you? I don't know you anymore, you've become someone else entirely and I- No!" you were panting, tears angrily threatening to spill "That's too gentle for you, you're a murderer, Jayce, a monster!".

Jayce's mind was racing, spinning with the force of your words and then it finally snapped. "Shut the fuck up!" he tore your hands away from his shirt, holding your wrists and pulling you close, pressed up against his chest. "You have no idea Y/N! You can't possibly begin to understand what I was put through!" "I was in there, while you and Viktor were out here playing house!" "I kept my promise!".

Jayce's eyes were red, frantically shaking looking into your own, in desperate search of something. He was so close, you could feel his heartbeat and his breath fanning your face, his scent was attacking your nostrils mercilessly, engulfing you in his presence. Like this you could almost see the old Jayce inside there, somewhere — untainted, full of promise — the one you fell hard for. All it took was a single look from him. A single, meaningful, glance down to your mouth from his so pretty brown eyes. He was so, so close. Next thing you knew you and Jayce were in each other's arms, kissing so forcefully it almost broke skin. Kissing like your very lives depend on it, like you'll die of asphyxiation if you stop.

Jayce hoisted you up the table, sending tools and papers flying, both of you couldn't care less right now. He positioned himself in between your legs, leaning some of his body weight on you, forcing your back to meet the cold surface beneath. "Jayce!" you breathed out, talking into his mouth, gasping for air and breaking the kiss for a second too long. Your hands, firmly resting on the back of his neck, wandered to the hem of your shirt, fidgeting with it, trying to lose it. Jayce noticed and made quick work of your shirt, hurriedly sliding it over your head and tossing aside to a forgotten corner.

"Don't stop" you huffed against him again, voice dripping with want, you struggled blindly to unbuckle his belt, too busy reciprocating his fervent kisses to bother to look down. "I got you" Jayce urged, going crazy with the way your lips felt on his, even more addicting than he remembers. He reached down, tugging off your pants and underwear in one precise motion. Your senses were completely overwhelmed, all you were able to think, see, hear, smell and feel was Jayce.

You were both pouring everything into this kiss, into this very moment. Bleeding years of bottled up love and regrets into each other's systems. Even still, you harbored feelings for him, and him you. Despite the hurricane of emotions and thoughts swirling inside your head, a small, nagging voice coming from the darkest dephts of your mind, kept quietly chanting "What have you done, Y/N?"

[xxsquiddkiddxx]

Viktor x Reader Headcanons

Pronouns for reader: Gender neutral, AFAB undertones if you squint

Relationship type: Platonic to Romantic

General Idea: Some silly little headcanons I have for Viktor because he's still my silly little princess. Even after the whole glorious evolution thing.

Content Warnings: S1 Viktor, no S2 spoilers, But there as little bit of s2 viktor's mindset, I'm projecting a little bit (a lot) but it's fine.

~☆~

I honestly see Viktor as asexual with light aromantic undertones (kinda like demiromantic, I guess??). He rarely ever developes romantic feelings. Like its a once in a blue moon thing.

Like... he has to know you for YEARS before something in his head is like "Oh... hey they kinda cute?"

However, when he DOES develop feelings that go beyond friendship, Viktor HEAVILY struggles with coming to terms with them. Not in like a "I don't DO feelings" type way, but more in a "Well... no... it could be this" type of way.

Oh, his heart rate speeds up a little bit when you two accidently brush hands? It must just be his nerves.

When he does realize that he has feelings for someone, it's kind of like that scene in Gravity Falls where Dipper is like "It's not like I stay awake at night thinking about Wendy" and it cuts to him laying awake thinking about Wendy XD

If he likes someone romantically, he talks about them a lot. Like as if trying to bring them up as much as he can. Like "Oh (Y/N) mentioned something about that book, said they really liked it" Or "(Y/N) actually said something similar about that topic" If he could yap about you for hours, he probably would.

Even if you're being PAINFULLY obvious about your romantic feelings towards Viktor, he will firmly believe you're just being friendly.

Why he does it is a mix between two things: one is that he's just not awesome with people. And second is that he firmly believes someone like you could never love someone like him back.

One night, Viktor had been constantly working without break, so you practically dragged him to his room by his ear and forced him to get some rest.

Viktor has a strong habit of having his workspace FILLED with old mugs, sometimes days old. He doesn't really mean to, just too wrapped up in Hextech to really notice.

He also struggles with meals too. Just like above, because he literally just gets too wrapped up in his work.

If Viktor actually confesses feelings, it's such an interesting experience. Because he doesn't just flat out say "Hey I have feelings for you". He stumbles over his words and rambles about something random in the middle of it. So you gotta help him out a little bit.

Viktor's love language is quality time. He'll make sure his seat is next to you when it can, he always yaps about what he's uncovered about Hextech.

Speaking of Hextech, if you just sit there and watch him work? He'd about die of happiness on the spot. If you, someone he really loved, took an interest to something he truly loved DOING? Perfect.

He used to get really flustered about physical affection. Like you held his hand one time and he about combusted. He was red in the face for hours. He got better with it overtime, of course. But for the first few months, he was pretty much bright red the whole time.

Dates are rare, neither of you have the time for it. But when you two do have dates of some kind, they're mostly stay at home type things.

You know that thing kids do? Like playing their own separate things together? Parallel play, I think it's called? Yeah you two do that a lot.

Viktor will be reading some papers and you'll be reading a book, your feet in his lap.

Speaking of, Viktor is such a reader omg He doesn't read a lot anymore due to his constant workload, but when he does, he reads a lot of like... old books. The ones with yellowing pages and smell nice? Yeah... those ones!

If you two slept in the same bed, he'd be all like... giggly and nervous the first few times. Just like affection, he'd get used to it. But it's still cute.

When you two are cuddling, run your fingers in his hair. He'll melt right into you regardless of the situation. It's like an instant relax button for him.

Him laying his head on your chest, and you running your fingers through his hair? Something about it just... works. It calms him down a lot and makes him feel at peace.

His favorite place to kiss is the crook of your neck. Especially if you're around his height (he's like... between 5'7 and 5'10. I don't remember exactly).

Or your temples. It's simple, it doesn't attract a lot of attention. And let's be real, it's underrated as hell.

He's not big on PDA, but he'll hold your hand in public. He likes holding onto just one of your fingers, like your pinkie or something like that. It, just like temple kisses, is simple and discreet.

He doesn't often say "I love you". He feels bad about it, but you don't mind. He often says I love you without saying it. Things like holding you while you sleep, kissing your forehead as you two read in each other's arms, weaving your fingers with his while he works.

He gets self-conscious a lot. He thinks you could do a lot better than him and that he's not perfect.

Please kiss this poor boy all over and tell him he's perfect as is 😭😭

~☆~

A/N:The Arcane brainrot has gotten to me... This is how I'm coping with the finale. But I've wanted to write Viktor or Sevika stuff for a HOT minute now. I've been in the Arcane fandom for YEARS (a fanfic writer even longer) but this is my first Arcane fic... wild XD

For more fics: my masterlist!

~Squeed

[apollowhoo]

SINCE YOU SAID YOU HAVE NO ARCANE ONES I WILL HAPPILY TAKE ONE OF VI, SILCO, EKKO, OR VIKTOR!!!! (Silco preferably platonic ((x child reader)) cuz idk I see him more like a father figure). EVERYBODY ELSE IS UP TO YOU BUT I LOVE HURT/COMFORT AND YOUR WORK SO KEEP UP THE GOOD WRITING LOVE!

I ACTUALLY LOVE YOU😿😿

SILCO X CHILD!READER

The heavy air of Zaun wrapped around you like a suffocating blanket, the world around you dim under the flickering green glow of the Undercity’s lights. You sat on the cold metal floor of Silco’s office, knees pulled tightly to your chest, trying to calm your shaking body down.

The door creaked open and you froze, expecting to be yelled at for being here uninvited. But Silco’s sharp eyes softened as they fell onto you, his usually stern side disappearing. He approached without a word, crouching to your level.

“What happened?” His voice was low, not demanding, just… asking.

You didn’t answer at first. Would he even care? You weren’t much to him—just another orphan tangled up in his schemes.

But Silco waited patiently, his gaze steady, until the words spilled from your lips in a choked sob. “I—I didn’t mean to mess up, I swear. They— they just kept pushing and saying—saying I wasn’t good enough to even be here!”

His rough hand, settled gently on your shoulder. “Zaun isn’t kind,” he murmured, his tone oddly soothing. “It doesn’t reward softness. But that doesn’t mean you have to bear cruelty alone.”

The unexpected warmth in his voice made your chest ache. “Why… why are you being nice?”

Silco exhaled sharply, almost amused. “You remind me of someone,” he simply said before suddenly standing then, extending a hand. “Come. Let’s remind them why Zaun never underestimates its own.”

You hesitated for a moment before slipping your trembling hand into his. For the first time in days, you felt a flicker of strength reignite within you.

[deathbxnny]

Currently in a cfs/me flare up after losing my mind over the Arcane finale (lmao), and it’s been making me think about the characters keeping company to an exhausted & feverish reader. You can choose if you want to make it chronic illness related or more general, I’m just interested how you’d write them in a situation like that 🐁💖 Would love to see Vi, Caitlyn, and Viktor (pre-robojesus) if that’s okay :)) Both platonic and romantic are fine to me too!

Just wanted to add to the end that I loved your Timekeeper fic so much <3 Thank you for writing my request, it actually made me roll around my bed in joy :”D I hope days start getting better for you soon, stay safe 💖💖

Arcane characters with a chronically ill s/o. | Viktor, Caitlyn, Vi x Gn!Reader

Hey there, Anon! Sorry that it took so long to get to your request, but I hope you're doing better now! Im so glad to hear that you liked my last post too!<3

Content: Vague chronical illness, slight angst, fluff, can be read as platonic or romantic tbh, sfw

Reader has no set pronouns.

((Not proofread))

》VIKTOR

He knows what it's like to deal with a chronical illness and, therefore, is the best prepared out of the three.

Viktor always has an eye on you and practically studied what makes your sickness get worse. He sees the patterns and tries his best to quickly get you out of situations that could provoke them.

Sometimes, he feels guilty that he isn't able to do more to help you, especially when he, too, is suffering. He appreciates your presence because of that, since you're a comfort to him and someone who understands how he feels. You spend a lot of time together, perhaps even cuddled up during darker days, just not to not feel alone.

He definitely makes your room extra comfortable whenever your flare-ups return. Viktor will get you your favorite food or drink and just sit by your bed until you feel a bit better.

Absolutely works in your room whilst you're laying sick in bed, as he's worried you may get worse in his absence. This indirectly also gets him out of the laboratory often, which does him way more good than he may realise.

All in all, he's the best person to have around when dealing with a difficult chronical illness.

》CAITLYN

She's hellbent on finding a cure one way or another. Cait is stubborn and doesn't take no for an answer. To her, even the impossible may become possible if she works hard enough. So expect the best doctors in Piltover to fuss over you at all times.

She might come off as overbearing at times, mainly because she's extremely worried about your health. Seeing you sick and exhausted all the time hurt her.

Definitely spoils you with anything and everything you want in hopes of distracting you from the pain you were in, even if it's just momentarily.

Tries taking walks with you at times, even if they are short and quick. She thinks that fresh air is good for your health and that you appreciate the time you spend together that way.

If you're feeling lonely, she'll lay in bed with you and speak with you about random topics, anything that comes to mind. She'll definitely also talk about work and the missions she went on.

She may not be able to relate to you, but she'll educate herself on everything regarding your health and illness in the hope of making life easier for you.

》VI

She feels helpless at times. She really does, and it hurts to see you hurt. Unable to really help or find a potential cure/doctor to make things easier, she becomes a little creative with the way she deals with it.

Vi is extremely overprotective and doesn't let you do much on your own. Expect her to do absolutely all the heavy lifting and some of the harder household chores, just so that you don't have to exhaust yourself even more.

Tries making your days better by thinking of fun and accessible things to do. She wants to distract you from the pain and give you a semi-normal life, as she believes you deserve at least that.

Longgg cuddle sessions in which you just talk and laugh. It's the best way to wind down during a flare-up. It also helps with any loneliness you may feel.

She tries using her connections with Cait and so on to get you some help when things get seriously bad. She's terrified of losing you and can't bear the thought of it. It keeps her up at night.

Every day may be a new challenge, but she'll never give up on you, that's for sure.

[aspenmissing]

Hello! Lately I've finished an really emotional book and since then I'm in the mood for another angsty story ~

Reader is Viktor's baby sister and the wife of Jayce. During Jinx's attack she was with them in the councilor hall. Viktor and Jayce are safe, but Reader got pretty bad injured. Viktor desperately tries to wake her up, while Jayce is in pure shock. The medical team rushes in the hall and take her with them.

A little bit later Viktor and Jayce get the message, that Reader barely made it and is now in coma. The chances of her to wake up are to small, to give them any kind of hope.

Viktor is in pure grief, but he also feels so much hate about hextech after hearing the news, that Jinx used a hextech weapon. Meanwhile Jayce desperately tries to find a way to keep his wife alive. He tries to convince Viktor that the hexcore might be the solution.

Viktor is in pure rage and both of them having a really big argument, full with emotions. Within the argument Viktor saying things like "I wish, that you have never met my sister" or "If she dies, I'm over with hextech and you". He only wants his baby sister back and Jayce don't know what to do anymore.

Shortly after that, Reader passed away.

Soooo it's really emotional and angsty, but...well...I can't help it :3

ʜᴇʀ ꜰɪɴᴀʟ ɢᴏᴏᴅʙʏᴇ

ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ x ᴡɪꜰᴇ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ (ʙʀᴏ!ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ) || ᴀɴɢꜱᴛ/ᴄᴏᴍꜰᴏʀᴛ? || 3666 ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ || ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ᴇxᴘʟᴏꜱɪᴏɴꜱ, ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ, ɪɴᴊᴜʀʏ, ʙʟᴏᴏᴅ, ᴠɪᴏʟᴇɴᴄᴇ

ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛ ᴀɴꜱᴡᴇʀ: ɴᴏᴛ ɢᴏɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ʟɪᴇ…ɪ ᴄʀɪᴇᴅ. ɪ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴡɪꜱʜ ꜱᴀᴅɴᴇꜱꜱ ᴜᴘᴏɴ ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴏɴᴇ, ʙᴜᴛ ɪ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴡɪʟʟ ʙᴇ ᴇᴍᴏᴛɪᴏɴᴀʟ ʀɪᴅᴇ ꜰᴏʀ ʏᴏᴜ. ᴀɴᴅ ɪ ᴋɪɴᴅᴀ ʜᴀᴅ ᴛᴏ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ꜱᴏᴍᴇ ꜱᴏʀᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴄᴏᴍꜰᴏʀᴛ ᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇɴᴅ ᴀ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ, ᴀ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ꜱᴘʀɪɴᴋʟᴇ ᴏꜰ ʜᴏᴘᴇ… ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ, ᴅᴏ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ ᴍʏ ʟᴏᴠᴇ <3

ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ | ᴅᴏᴄᴛᴏʀ/ᴘᴀʀᴀᴍᴇᴅɪᴄ

The world had turned red. Not just from the fire or the chaos left in Jinx’s wake, but from the blood pooling beneath Y/N’s still body. The air was thick with smoke, the acrid scent of burning metal and flesh overwhelming Jayce’s senses. Flames flickered along the grand tapestries that once symbolized progress and unity, now reduced to charred remnants of shattered ideals.

Jayce could barely hear anything—his ears were ringing, drowning out the panicked voices around him. His breath was ragged, his chest tight, his heart hammering so violently he feared it might burst. His hands trembled as he reached for her, barely registering the sensation of warm, slick blood coating his fingers. It didn’t feel real. It couldn’t be real.

"Y/N!" Viktor's voice cracked, his hands shaking as he pressed against her wounds, desperate to stop the bleeding. His golden eyes, usually so sharp with intelligence, were wild with fear. "Wake up, sestra, please!" (Sister)

Viktor was always the logical one, always the one to approach situations with a measured mind. But now? Now he was frantic, his own injuries forgotten as he clutched at his sister, his face twisted in anguish. His cane lay discarded beside him, abandoned in favor of cradling Y/N’s battered body.

Jayce's breath came in short, shallow bursts, his mind refusing to accept what was happening. His wife—his light—was unresponsive, her usually warm skin turning cold beneath his touch. A deep gash ran along her side, blood seeping into her torn clothing. Bruises were already blooming across her delicate features, and her chest barely moved with shallow, struggling breaths.

"She—she’s breathing," Jayce rasped, as if saying it aloud would somehow make it more true, more solid. But it was barely there, the rise and fall of her chest so faint it was almost imperceptible.

=

The medical team swarmed around them, their voices urgent but distant, as if they were speaking through water. A medic pressed two fingers against Y/N’s throat, searching for a pulse, their expression grim.

"She’s critical. We need to get her stabilized immediately!" another barked. "Move, now!"

Someone pulled Viktor back, forcing him away from his sister as she was lifted onto a stretcher. He fought against them, his limbs weak but fueled by desperation. "No, no, I need to stay with her!" he shouted, but the medics ignored his pleas, ushering him out of the way.

Jayce barely registered the movement, his entire body frozen as he stared at Y/N’s still form. Her hair was matted with blood, strands clinging to her pale skin. Her fingers, once so full of life, so warm whenever they entwined with his, now lay limp.

"We need to move her now!" one of the medics shouted. The urgency in their voice shattered through the fog in Jayce’s mind.

His legs refused to cooperate, as if they had turned to lead. He swayed slightly, dizziness clawing at the edges of his vision. His fingers curled into fists at his sides. "She’ll be okay, right?" His voice was barely above a whisper, broken and weak, his question directed to no one in particular.

No one answered him.

They didn’t need to.

The silence was suffocating. The sterile walls, the distant beeping of machines—none of it felt real. Jayce stood beside Viktor, both of them barely holding themselves together as they listened to the doctor’s verdict.

"She’s in a coma. The damage was extensive... It’s a miracle she’s still alive, but the chances of her waking up are—" The doctor hesitated. "Slim. We will do everything we can, but..."

The rest of his words faded into nothingness.

Jayce felt like he was drowning. His entire body ached, but nothing compared to the pain in his chest, the way his heart threatened to shatter completely. Viktor hadn’t spoken in minutes, staring blankly at his sister’s unconscious form. His hands, usually steady despite his condition, were trembling violently.

"This is because of hextech," Viktor finally muttered, his voice hollow. "She was caught in an explosion from a hextech weapon."

Jayce swallowed the lump in his throat. "Viktor, I—"

"No!" Viktor snapped, whirling on him. "Don’t you see? We created something that led to this! We thought we were saving the world, and look what it has done! Look at her!" He gestured sharply at Y/N, his voice thick with rage and grief. "I hate it. I hate hextech!"

Jayce didn’t respond. His throat tightened, and any words he might have had withered before they could leave his lips. Instead, he just stood there, his body tense, his eyes fixed on Y/N.

Viktor turned back to her, his fingers tightening around her limp hand as if he could anchor her back to life by sheer will alone. His grip was firm but gentle, his thumb absently brushing over her knuckles. He was trying to hold onto her—trying to hold onto what little hope remained.

Jayce’s breath caught as he took in Y/N’s still form. She looked so peaceful—too peaceful. He had seen her asleep countless times, her lips slightly parted, her face serene, but this wasn’t sleep. This was something far worse, something unnatural, something slipping further from his grasp with every passing second.

His jaw clenched, his fists trembling at his sides. The despair was crushing, wrapping around his chest like a vice, suffocating him. But beneath the pain, beneath the helplessness, something else flickered to life—determination.

He couldn’t just stand here. He couldn’t do nothing.

His mind raced, clinging desperately to any shred of hope, any possibility that he could still save her. And then it struck him.

The hexcore.

Jayce sucked in a sharp breath, his decision solidifying as he squared his shoulders. He turned abruptly, his movements rigid with resolve, and strode out of the medical wing without another word.

Viktor barely registered his departure, too lost in his grief to notice. His focus remained on Y/N, his chest rising and falling in uneven breaths as he whispered to her, voice barely above a broken murmur.

"Please... just come back to me."

=

Jayce moved quickly through the halls of the Council building, his footsteps echoing through the empty corridors. His mind was clouded with thoughts, with possibilities, with risks. He knew what the hexcore had done to Viktor—but it had also kept him alive, made him stronger. If there was even the slightest chance it could do the same for Y/N, he had to take it.

The lab door slams open as he stepped inside. The air was heavy with energy, the hexcore pulsing with a faint, eerie light. The room smelled of metal and ozone, the very presence of the device humming in his bones. Jayce hesitated only for a moment before stepping closer, his heart pounding like a war drum in his chest. He stared down at the device with a mixture of fear and hope, the soft glow of the hexcore reflecting in his desperate eyes.

His hands hovered over it, shaking. Could he really do this? Was this the right choice? Was this the only choice?

A sudden voice shattered the silence.

"Don’t."

Jayce turned sharply, his breath hitching in his throat. Viktor stood in the doorway, his expression twisted with rage and anguish, his eyes burning with unfiltered hatred and sorrow. His breaths were uneven, his body shaking from exhaustion, fury, and grief.

"You don’t know what you’re doing, Jayce," Viktor spat, stepping forward with unsteady but determined steps. "You think this will save her, but you have no idea what it could turn her into. You saw what it did to me."

Jayce’s jaw tightened, his fingers curling into fists at his sides. "I can’t just let her die, Viktor. I won’t. I refuse to stand here and do nothing."

Viktor’s face contorted, raw grief flashing across his features. "And you think this is the answer?! The hexcore is not salvation, Jayce! It is corruption! It does not heal—it twists! It takes! It makes monsters!"

"You’re still alive!" Jayce shot back, his voice rising in desperation. "It kept you alive, Viktor! You were dying, and it saved you! What if it can do the same for her? What if this is the only chance we have?"

"And at what cost?!" Viktor’s voice cracked as he took another step forward, his entire body shaking with barely contained emotion. "You think I don’t wish to save her? You think I haven’t thought of this?! Every moment since she fell, I have been fighting the thought of bringing her back with that accursed thing! But I won’t! Because I know what it does! It does not save, Jayce—it steals! It took something from me, and I can never get it back! What will it take from her?"

Jayce faltered, his breath coming in ragged gasps. "She wouldn’t want to die either," he said, his voice breaking. "I can’t sit here and do nothing, Viktor. I won’t."

Viktor let out a hollow, bitter laugh, one that carried no amusement—only pain, only loss. "You think you’re the only one suffering?" he sneered, his accent thick with anger. "She is my sister, Jayce! My blood! You think your love for her outweighs mine? You think I wouldn’t burn this entire city to the ground if it meant saving her?!"

Jayce’s breath caught, his resolve wavering. He had never seen Viktor like this—so raw, so furious, so close to the edge of complete collapse.

Viktor took another step forward, his hands trembling at his sides. "I wish—I wish I had never introduced you to her!" His voice broke, but his gaze never wavered. "Maybe then she wouldn’t be in this bed, fighting for her life! Maybe then she wouldn’t be lying there, slipping further and further away!"

Jayce flinched like he had been struck, pain flashing across his face. "You don’t mean that."

"I do," Viktor growled, his grief turning venomous. "Because if she dies, I am done—with you, with hextech, with all of it!"

The words crushed Jayce like a hammer to the chest, knocking the air from his lungs. His hands trembled at his sides as he took an unsteady step back, his heart racing, his entire world unravelling. He wanted to argue, to fight, to make Viktor understand—but the look in Viktor’s eyes made it clear. There was no reasoning with him. No argument would change the depth of his grief.

Viktor’s breath was ragged, his fists clenched so tightly his knuckles were white, the handle of his cane gripped like a lifeline. His entire body was shaking, but it wasn’t from anger anymore. It was grief, raw and unbearable, threatening to break him apart. His voice was hoarse, cracked, barely more than a whisper when he spoke. "I just want my baby sister back, Jayce. That’s all. I just want her back... but not if it means she becomes something we won’t even recognize. Not if it means losing her in another way."

Jayce’s throat closed up, his own grief clawing at him. He wanted to say something, anything, but no words came. He was a man of action, but what was he supposed to do when the one thing he could do was the one thing Viktor couldn’t accept? He swallowed, his hands balling into fists, his mind screaming for a solution—any solution—but coming up empty.

He turned back to the hexcore, its eerie glow casting long shadows across the lab, pulsing like a heartbeat, a cruel mockery of life. The weight of his failure pressed down on him, suffocating. He had always been able to fix things. He had built weapons, tools, machines capable of changing the world. But now, standing here, he realized with chilling clarity that there were some things he couldn’t fix.

Viktor let out a shaky breath, his chest rising and falling with the weight of his sorrow. He looked so tired, so lost. He adjusted his grip on his cane, his fingers trembling as he leaned on it heavily, his body betraying just how much this moment was draining him. "Please, Jayce... let’s just go back. She needs us."

Jayce hesitated, staring at the hexcore for a long, aching moment before exhaling a heavy breath. His shoulders sagged, the fight draining from him. He didn’t know what to do anymore.

Without another word, he turned away from the hexcore, following Viktor as they left the lab behind. The rhythmic sound of Viktor’s cane striking the floor echoed in the hallway, each step slow and unsteady but resolute. The door slid shut behind them, sealing away the temptation, the questions, the uncertainty. All that remained was their grief.

Back in Y/N’s room, the rhythmic beeping of the machines filled the silence, a cruel reminder that she was still here, but barely. The sterile scent of antiseptic hung in the air, suffocating in its emptiness. The weight of the moment pressed down on both men as they stood at her bedside, looking at the woman they both loved in their own ways.

They knew what had to be done.

Viktor turned to Jayce, his throat tightening as he forced himself to meet his friend’s eyes. The fight, the anger, the accusations—it all seemed so pointless now. His voice was rough when he finally spoke. "Jayce... there’s something I need to tell you."

Jayce swallowed hard, nodding.

Viktor’s lips trembled as he exhaled shakily. "I didn’t mean what I said before. About wishing I never introduced you to her." He looked down at Y/N’s face, the corners of his lips twitching in the faintest, most broken ghost of a smile. "She loved you. You made her happy. And despite everything, I am grateful for that. I am grateful for you."

Jayce’s breath hitched, emotion thick in his throat. "Viktor..."

Viktor shook his head. "No, let me finish. I am glad you were in her life. And I am glad to have a brother-in-law like you." His voice wavered, but his sincerity was unwavering. "She wouldn’t want us to part with anger."

Jayce felt his chest tighten, his vision blurred with tears. He reached forward, squeezing Viktor’s shoulder, a silent understanding passing between them.

Viktor gave a weak nod before stepping back. "I need a moment alone with her."

Jayce hesitated for a second before giving him space, stepping outside and leaving Viktor alone with his sister.

Viktor sank into the chair beside her bed, his trembling fingers brushing over her hand as he exhaled shakily. His grip was weak, but filled with a tenderness that spoke of years of love and protection.

"Sestra..." His voice cracked, the grief swelling in his chest until it was unbearable. "I am so sorry. I should have protected you. I should have done more. But I know you—" He let out a weak, breathless chuckle, his eyes wet with unshed tears. "You would tell me to stop blaming myself. That it wasn't my fault. That it was just the world being cruel. But I don’t know how to live in a world without you in it."

He swallowed thickly, his thumb tracing slow circles over her cold skin. "You were always stronger than me. Smarter than me. Kinder than me. You had so much ahead of you, and it’s not fair that this is where your story ends. If there is any part of you left, if you can hear me, just know that I love you. I always have. And I always will."

A single tear slipped down his cheek, and for the first time in his life, Viktor felt truly powerless. His hand lingered for a moment longer before he slowly pulled away, his chest rising and falling with deep, shuddering breaths. He pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, lingering for just a second, memorizing her warmth, before standing up. He wiped his face, steadied himself, and walked to the door, pausing for only a moment before nodding to Jayce.

Jayce inhaled deeply, composing himself before stepping inside as Viktor left.

Jayce hesitated, his hands shaking as he stepped forward. He looked down at her, his wife, his everything, and felt his heart shatter all over again. He had fought so hard, clung so desperately to hope, but now there was nothing left to hold onto.

He took her hand in his, pressing it against his forehead as he let out a choked sob. "God, Y/N... I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how to say goodbye to you. We were supposed to have more time. We were supposed to have a family. We were supposed to grow old together. You were supposed to be with me, always."

His grip tightened, as if holding onto her a little harder would somehow make her stay. "I should have protected you. I should have done more. I failed you. And I don’t know how I’m supposed to keep going without you."

His breath hitched, and he forced himself to look at her face, to memorize every detail, every line, every feature that he loved so much. "You were the best part of me. And I don’t know if I’ll ever be whole again without you."

A tear slipped onto her hand as he kissed her knuckles, his lips trembling against her skin. "I love you. I love you more than anything. And I will carry you with me for the rest of my life."

The room was unbearably silent as he finally let go, his entire body shaking with grief. He stepped back, unable to look at her any longer, because if he did, he wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to leave.

Outside the room, Viktor was waiting. He didn’t say anything—he didn’t need to. Instead, he simply reached out, placing a trembling hand on Jayce’s shoulder, grounding him in the only way he could.

Together, they stood there, two broken men saying goodbye to the woman who had been their heart.

It was time.

Days passed, and the world moved on, but for Viktor and Jayce, time felt frozen.

It was a warm, bright day when they laid Y/N to rest. The sun shone down on the gathered mourners, its light mocking the heaviness in their hearts. A soft breeze rustled the trees, carrying with it the scent of fresh flowers placed around her resting place. The sky was impossibly blue, unmarred by clouds, as if the universe itself refused to mourn her loss.

The service was small, intimate. Friends, family, and colleagues stood in solemn silence as words were spoken in her honour. Viktor stood at the front, his hands clasped tightly together as if holding himself upright was the only thing keeping him from breaking apart. His eyes, red-rimmed and hollow, were fixed on the casket, his mind racing through memories—ones filled with laughter, with childhood mischief, with the way she had always believed in him even when no one else did. Now, she was gone, and nothing could bring her back.

Jayce stood beside him, his shoulders squared, his expression a mask of grief and exhaustion. His hands trembled as he held a single white rose, staring at the casket as if willing it to open, as if refusing to accept that this was truly goodbye. He had built so much, created so much, but nothing he had ever made could undo this moment. Nothing he had ever built could bring her back.

When it came time, Viktor was the first to step forward. He looked down at the grave, his heart in his throat. "Sestra," he murmured, his voice barely audible. "I don’t know how to do this without you. But I will try. For you."

He knelt, placing a small mechanical piece beside her headstone—something they had built together in their childhood. A part of their bond, a part of her legacy. His fingers lingered over the cool metal, tracing the edges of it as if committing it to memory. He closed his eyes, willing himself to hear her voice one last time, to feel her presence just once more. The wind carried the faintest whisper, and for a fleeting moment, he swore he could feel her warmth.

Jayce took a deep breath before stepping forward, his fingers tightening around the rose in his grasp. He knelt beside Viktor, placing the flower gently atop the casket. "I love you," he whispered, his voice breaking. "Always."

And then, as if summoned by their sorrow, a single white butterfly fluttered into view, dancing on the breeze. It drifted between them, its delicate wings catching the sunlight, glowing like something ethereal, something impossibly beautiful. Viktor and Jayce both froze, their eyes locked on the fragile creature as it hovered near Y/N’s resting place.

Neither of them spoke, but in their silence, they understood. It was her. It had to be. A final goodbye, a last reassurance that she was at peace.

The butterfly lingered for a moment longer before it floated away, disappearing into the sky, its journey endless, unbound. Viktor inhaled sharply, his fingers curling into fists as he fought against the weight pressing on his chest. Jayce let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, his gaze following the butterfly until it was gone.

As they stood, the wind carried their grief into the sky, the sun watching over them as they said their final goodbye. They weren’t sure if they would ever truly heal, if the ache in their chests would ever fade, but they knew one thing—Y/N was still with them. Not in body, but in the memories she had left behind, in the love she had given them, in the small moments that would remind them of her forever.

It was time to let go, but neither of them knew how.

Yet, as they walked away, side by side, they carried her with them, always.

[katz-rambles]

Hi! I saw your requests were open and I was wondering if you could do a viktor x fem!reader where she finds out viktor’s birthday and decides to crochet him a cute sweater or something (just makes him a present) and a cake and he gets a lil teared up cause no one really went to the trouble of celebrating his birthday? 🧡

Awww, this is soo cute! I love it!!

I'm so sorry this took so long, Anon. But I hope you enjoy this little Viktor drabble!

(fluff, comfort, can be read as either romantic or platonic, fem!reader, I think this is it!)

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧꒰

Your knocks on the heavy door to the lab do not go unnoticed. You can hear the footsteps followed by the thumping of his cane that's muffled by the door. The door opens, almost cautiously, just enough so Viktor can see who it is. His eyes soften when he fully takes in who it is and he opens the door wide, allowing you to step inside. His attention is diverted from you towards the wrapped box you're holding.

You place it down on the table, careful to not disturb any of the materials on top of the table as you do so. His eyes are trained on the box as he limps towards you. You can tell, he's trying to figure out what it's for. “I don't remember getting any more supplies.” He huffs and stands beside you. You can't hold back the smile on your face as you take in his adorably confused expression.

“I heard it was your birthday. What kind of person would I be if I didn't get you a little something?” He looks almost taken aback by your words, but he's quick to fix his composure again before his emotions become too obvious. He looks at you and then back at the wrapped box and then back at you again. “This.. is for me?” His voice seems to echo throughout the empty lab, you watch as he cocks his head to the side while staring at the box. You nod at him and motion for him to open it.

His hands are shaky as he opens the box to reveal a crocheted sweater. It's clear it was handmade. Sitting on top of the sweater is a little card with the words ‘happy birthday’ in outlined letters. He takes a moment to stare at it before he opens the card. A happy birthday wish is on one side while the other has multiple different birthday wishes with signatures beside them. One of them is even from Mel.

He looks up at you with a stern expression, and for a moment, you're afraid you did something wrong. But it soon fades and his eyes become watery as he quickly looks away from you. You can feel your heart throb at his reaction. It takes a second before he looks back at you, he's not crying but the tears are evident. He lets out a shaky breath and wipes his eyes. “Thank you, truly. You didn't have to,” he nods at you and looks away again before he continues, “it's been a while since someone cared enough to do this.” His words send a pang of hurt through you, he's one of the most caring people you've ever met. You almost don't believe him.

“Viktor.. it's your birthday. You deserve this, and more,” you reach over to him and brush your hand against his face. Your hand gently cups his face and you kiss his cheek. 

“Happy birthday, Viktor.” You mumble against his cheek before pulling away from him.

He watches you leave the lab, and he makes a mental note to make sure to wear the sweater when he knows you'll be around.

[bitchface24-7]

What if Viktor was more than a Yandere, he was a pervert with the reader, and the reader was a very oblivious person. Note: Viktor and the reader are not in a relationship, and the reader only sees him as a friend.What could possibly happen? To our innocent and oblivious reader...

THE PERVERTED GENTLEMAN - VIKTOR X READER

synopsis: you and Viktor have been friends for as long as you can remember. You used to have the biggest crush on him, but you realized he'd never like you back; always so focused on his work. So you let the feelings go, but a teeny tiny bit is still there. Viktor's a total gentleman, you wouldn't think so if you knew what was going on inside his head…

warnings: perverted!viktor, obsessive!viktor, yandere tendencies, stealing items, lack of personal space, oblivious!reader, Grammarly as my beta

genre: m/f or m/m

p.s. I know it was said R only sees V as a friend but c'mon… if I was his friend id have a massive crush on him, and I assume ppl who read this got a crush on him as well. So we had a crush on him in the past in this, and still hold a sweet spot for him

You and Viktor have been friends for as long as you can remember. You always stuck by one another, like you were glued at the hip. You two were together for every milestone.

Obviously Viktor was a cute kid, and he grew into a very pretty teen, into a handsome man. You had the biggest crush on him growing up, you'd write about him in your diary like a lovesick fool in those romance novels you'd read. Eventually, when you hit your mid-twenties, the crush faded. You still hold a tremendous soft spot for him, the crush lingering in the back of your mind, but you'll never act on it.

Viktor's a man of science, married to his work. If you can't have him romantically, you'll make damn sure you can keep him platonically.

If only you had the ability to look inside his mind. Read his thoughts and opinions. You can read him incredibly well, but his mind is a puzzle you're aching to solve.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Viktor has loved you since he understood the concept of love.

You're his person, you always have been. When other kids ignored or made fun of Viktor, you stood up and fought back. You kept him company, you were interested in his contraptions. You’re perfect.

Not to mention how wonderful you are as a person. How beautiful. A cute kid, a pretty teen, a stunning adult.

Viktor has always been possessive over you. His hands on your shoulder, your back, your waist, your hips. Sharing a bed to sleep, sharing clothes, gifting you items to wear. His favourite one is a necklace with a V charm on it. You never take it off, and it makes Viktor smirk every time he sees it on you.

He has swippy hands. Items he’s… borrowed and never plans to return. A shirt here, a half-full bottle of your favourite fragrance, hair ties, chapstick, his most cherished item is a pair of your underwear. It’s soft, black, and cozy. One day you came over after a rainstorm and Viktor insisted you shower, as to not get a cold. He put your clothes in the dryer and fibbed that… the undies got lost. So he gave you a pair of boxers to wear instead.

You didn’t question him, didn’t even think he may be a dirty little pervert that stole your undergarment. You just smiled and took the boxers without any hesitation.

Viktor’s wanted you for what seems like a millennia. You’re in his thoughts, his dreams, his fantasies. If he’s not working, he’s thinking of you. It infuriates him.

Everything comes to a head when Viktor comes over to you house one day, and snoops in your room, finding your old diary.

Pages upon pages of unconditional love and lust is poured out into the book. Viktor feels his heart racing as he reads more and more of your love and untameable lust regarding him.

He doesn’t stop reading when he hears you enter the room and gasp. He doesn’t stop reading when you start to plead with him to give the diary back.

He just casually closes the book when he’s done and looks at you with a smirk.

He sees you gulp as you look down, unable to look him in the eye.

He feels like a spider who finally got their prey into their web.

Viktor’s gonna fulfill his fantasies, and he’s gonna make sure it ruins you for anyone else.

You are his after all.

🙏🙏🙏

He’d be one of the only men I’d be okay with perving on me. If he asks nicely, I’ll even pose for him ❤️

[l0stglitch]

Platonic Yandere Hargreeves x Reader

Notes- This is more of an introduction to an au I’ve created rather than an actual fic. It’s pretty Klaus + Ben centred at the moment but I will write about the others in future fics.

Warnings- Substance abuse | Bad parenting | Depression | Suicide

Pre season 1

• They weren’t always obsessed with you. As children, you and your siblings had relatively normal relationships. Well, if you ignored the uncomfortable flirting between One and Three, or the estrangement of Seven.

• It wasn’t until Five’s disappearance that the family dynamics started shifting.

• The unity from before had been fractured, and the fragile illusion of a family gone.

• From there, things only worsened.

• You had always been closest to Klaus. It was only natural- you both found joy in bending the rules, and your powers proved to be quite useful when the two of you were up to no good.

• You could see the future. Unfortunately, not on demand. You could see your opponent’s next moves in a fight, or your father coming upstairs and catching you and Klaus in his study minutes before he appeared, but large-scale events far into the future were much more complicated.

• You’d see the distant future in dreams. Cryptic visions that made little sense until the morbid events finally happened. You had woken up screaming many times, forced to watch your siblings suffer gruesome injuries in missions yet to happen.

• Sometimes your father would make you meditate. Sit for hours at a time trying to trigger another vision. Occasionally it worked. Most of the time though, you saw nothing.

• The others had never blamed you for not stopping Five. You hadn’t seen the jump until he stood up and announced his decision. By then it was too late to stop him. Your brother had always been stubborn- you knew you didn’t stand a chance at changing his mind.

• You and Klaus grew closer after that- your childish rule breaking became more reckless. Nights were spent sneaking out and stealing. Getting high and drinking dangerous amounts of alcohol became a shameful hobby of yours.

• Everyone knew, but they were all too caught up in their own grief to worry about what the two of you were doing.

• Things seemed to be slowly improving, until tragedy struck again in 2006.

• This time though, things were different. Ben’s death was raw and painful, not just for him, but for everyone involved. Five may have chosen to disappear, but Six certainly didn’t choose to die.

• You had dreamt of that strange girl for months before the mission, but never told your siblings about her. Perhaps if you had seen Ben being killed moments after you would have said something, but that vision only came after he opened the container. Yet again, you were too late.

• The funeral was cold. Usually you would’ve loved the snow, but seeing it today filled you with an icy bitterness. It was as if the sky itself was mocking you, tainting your favourite weather with the devastating reality of your brother’s death.

• Reginald had placed the blame on all of you, but you knew your siblings didn’t see it that way. Luther, Diego and Allison developed a frosty attitude towards you, and Viktor… well he’d never really spoken to you much anyways.

• Only Klaus stayed with you through it all. Well, and Ben apparently. You couldn’t see your deceased brother, but Klaus supposedly could. Unfortunately, as the two of you fell deeper into your drug use, it became harder to tell whether he was talking to Ben or just hallucinating.

• Either way, he never told any of the others he could speak to Ben’s ghost, so neither did you.

• The two of you became inseparable. You decided that you didn’t need the others anymore. Luther, Diego and Allison still took their roles as superheroes with grave seriousness, clinging onto that one constant in their ruined lives.

• You had come to the conclusion that you were no use to the team, despite Klaus’s best efforts to convince you otherwise. The visions never stopped, much to your dismay, and you didn’t know what you could do to alter the future. After all, what was the point in knowing what will happen if there was nothing you could do to stop it?

• Every night you dreamt the same thing. A funeral. Not snowy, like Ben’s, but instead with a dreary overcast sky and a blanket of wet, coppery leaves scattered across the ground.

• Five teenagers standing around a grave, their identities masked by the sleek curves of their black umbrellas.

• If only you could see the number carved into the gravestone.

• You woke up in a cold sweat without fail every morning. Klaus didn’t mind you coming into his room at 2am looking for comfort. He’d shift over in his bed to make space for you, bearing a patient smile despite the sleep that still nestled fresh in the corner of his eyes.

• You never told him what you saw, so he never asked.

• As weeks turned into months, your mental health only began deteriorating more and more.

• You hit your breaking point one afternoon during a heated encounter with Luther. He’d made a snide comment about your powers, vaguely alluding to you being the reason Ben had died.

• Your day had already been hard enough, so having to deal with shit from Luther sent you over the edge.

• It wasn’t like you to start a fight. You and Klaus tended to stay pretty neutral whenever an argument sprung up between the others. Perhaps that was why it came as such a shock to everyone when you punched your brother in the face with enough force to send shockwaves of pain through your knuckles.

• Luther only needed seconds to recover before retaliating.

• You managed to dodge his first few punches, using your powers to predict his moves. Unfortunately, you weren’t fast enough to avoid them all, and after being met with a fist to your stomach, it suddenly because all too easy for your brother to strike you.

• You could do nothing but feebly cry out for help as he released his anger out on you. In a sickening way it felt right- like this was supposed to happen.

• Luther deserved to release his buried grief, and you deserved to receive it. At least, that’s what you told yourself after as you lay silently on your bed, staring up at ceiling through the fuzzy darkness of the night.

• The others noticed how quiet you became. You hardly ate at mealtimes, and spent all your free time alone in your room, ignoring Klaus’s pleas for you to open up to him.

• Pogo and Grace could only watch as you retreated further and further into yourself, until you stopped joining missions altogether.

• Of course, Reginald was less than pleased by this. He sternly told you how much of a failure you were, but other than that, there was little else he could do.

• Yes, they could’ve forcefully dragged you along with them, but even then, there was no way of making you fight. If anything, you’d just be putting yourself and your siblings at risk.

• So they decided to watch passively as you withered away from the inside out, becoming a hollow shell of a person.

• Ironically, it wasn’t until you died that things eventually began to improve.

• Klaus found you in the bathroom at exactly 02:56 on a Tuesday morning. The half empty bottle of pills that rested in the palm of your cold hand told him all he needed to know.

• You had killed yourself- or at least tried to. He could still feel the soft beating of your heart under the frail skin of your neck.

• Klaus held you with an almost childish desperation, his screams for help piercing through the grave silence of the night.

• It was only seconds later that the rest of your siblings came scrambling into the bathroom.

• Diego was the first to act- shoving his way over to Klaus and pulling your delicate frame out of his brother’s trembling grip. The others watched in horrified silence as he began to perform CPR.

• Time seemed to slow down as they waited for Reginald to come. Alison had ran to wake him after seeing your condition, so now all they could do was wait. The only sounds that could be heard were Diego’s laboured breathing and Klaus’s chocked sobs.

• After what felt like hours, your father finally came to the bathroom. He said nothing to the others, silently scooping you up and carrying you down the dark hallway.

• That was the last time they saw you.

• Two days later your father announced your death to the rest of your siblings, and a funeral was held.

• It was a rainy day towards the end of November- just as you had predicted. All five of your remaining siblings stood around your grave; protected from the rain by their glossy, black umbrellas.

• Life continued on at the umbrella academy. Your suicide marked the last of the tragedies, although no one ever truly recovered from the harrowing losses.

• It was only a matter of time until the academy officially disbanded. Despite your and Ben’s best efforts, Klaus’s dependence on drugs only worsened as he aged. It was hard watching your best friend struggle through life, ignoring your pleas for him to try and get some help.

• Becoming a ghost seemed to have some strange side effects. The first was the biting cold that came from within. No matter how warm the environment was around you, you could never warm yourself up. The second was even more perplexing. You didn’t age. You would’ve chalked it up to being a result of your death being when you were 16, but Ben wasn’t stuck as a teenager. He also wasn’t constantly shivering from the cold.

• Klaus jokingly suggested that it was because you were ‘young at heart’. You couldn’t disagree more. After Five’s disappearance, it felt as though all of your childish innocence had been stripped away from you. Not to say you weren’t content with your existence as a ghost, but sometimes you missed being able to interact with the world around you.

• Ben made it all bearable. He was your only source of human contact, so you found yourself becoming clingier than before. Physical touch had never really been your thing, but now it was all you thought about. Ben didn’t mind the constant affection you showed, as he was just as touch-starved as you were.

• The years went on, and the three of you trudged through Klaus’s messy life together.

• No matter how many times you begged him to reach out to the rest of the family, your brother never listened. It was as if being dead made you less credible in his eyes. Klaus didn’t want your advice, he just wanted your presence.

• You saw the others once, when Allison married Patrick. It was bittersweet seeing them as adults for the first time and wondering how different things could have been if you just hadn’t taken those fucking pills.

• The wedding was over far too soon. You had hoped that seeing each other again would bring the family closer, but it quickly became clear that none of them had any interest in entering back into each others lives.

• So you had to watch as Allison returned to her glamorous life as a celebrity whilst Klaus dragged you and Ben back to his grimy, drug filled motel room.

• You resented him for never trying to sort out his life, but there wasn’t anything you could say to him. Any mention of his wasted potential and Klaus was quick to remind you of how you had killed yourself. He didn’t mean to upset you, but it still stung. It stung far worse than the punches Luther had thrown at you after Ben died.

• It wasn’t until the shocking news of Reginald’s death that you could see them all again.

• Klaus was less than impressed by the thought of having to return to the mansion. It took a lot of convincing from you and Ben before he finally agreed to attend the funeral- even if only to shut you both up.

• After a particularly long taxi ride, the three of you finally reached your destination.

• Save for Viktor, you were the last to arrive. Klaus claimed it was his intention to be ‘fashionably late’, but you knew he wasn’t going to be fooling anyone.

• You found yourself in Reginald’s study, watching Klaus as he rummaged through your father’s possessions. Ben tried convincing him to just leave it, but his protests fell on deaf ears.

• “You just gotta loosen up a bit Benny-boo,” He’d replied breezily, “Me and Y/n used to pull all kinds of stunts like this when we were kids! You were always a good lookout, with your mind tricks and all that.” He’d added, motioning to where you were leant up against the wall, watching quietly.

• Ben just rolled his eyes playfully before shooting you a small smile, “Those were the good old days huh?”

• Klaus snorted, “What are you talking about? We’re still in the good old days. Us three- we’re like the three musketeers!”

• You just shrugged indifferently, “Yeah- if two of the musketeers were dead.”

• “God, what’s got you in such a sour mood? You’d think we were at a funeral or something- oh wait, we are!” He cracked up laughing, as if that was the funniest joke in the world. Perhaps it was to him- he was high as fuck.

• When Allison finally got round to checking Reginald’s study, you made no effort to warn Klaus as she crept up on him. As far as you were concerned, you owed your brother absolutely nothing. He was still refusing to tell the others of your and Ben’s presence, so it was safe to say you were more than a little pissed off at him.

• Watching him nearly jump out of his skin brought a small smile to your face, but it soon disappeared when the topic of conversation shifted to rehab. As per usual, your brother shamelessly lied about everything that had been going on and made no mention of you and Ben.

• The meeting with Allison was short lived, as Luther soon entered and ordered Klaus to leave. Of course, with Klaus being Klaus, he managed to steal a fancy looking box on the way out.

• “Do you even know what’s in that thing?” You huffed, traipsing behind him. Your brother brought the object up to his lips and gave it a theatrical kiss, “Nope!” He replied, popping the ‘P’ in an almost childish manner.

• You frowned, “So why bother stealing it? Surely you’ll get a decent amount of money from dad’s inheritance.”

• “Oh come on! Don’t start feeling sorry for that old man. He was a rotten piece of shit- we deserve this for all the pain he put us through.” Klaus almost sounded annoyed, as if he was offended by your consideration of Reginald.

• It surprised you a little how much your comment seemed to have ruffled him. “I hate him as much as you do. All I’m saying is that this stupid box might not even be worth the time- ‘specially if you’re just gonna blow all the cash on drugs again.”

• Klaus sighed dramatically, feigning upset, “Oh my dear number eight, I am offended that you would suggest that I would do something like that. Especially after what I told Allison!”

• You smiled in amusement, “Y’know, you could try and start afresh after this. Start renting out a cheap apartment. Live off dad’s money for a while whilst you look for a job- a real job. You don’t need to steal all his crap.”

•Klaus merely shrugged, “I could, but where’s the fun in that? And besides, I know if you were alive going through all the same shit as me you’d be the same.”

• You sighed, he had a good point. The two of you were birds of a feather. There was no doubt that if you hadn’t died, you would’ve ended up the same, if not worse than your brother.

• Ben cleared his throat, “We haven’t seen Diego or Viktor in years, why don’t we go talk to them instead of standing here arguing about Klaus’s kleptomania.”

• Klaus smiled, “Kleptomania, huh? That’s a big word.” You rolled your eyes, “Just ’cause you’re feeling antisocial, doesn’t mean we shouldn’t be able to see our siblings.”

• Your brother turned around to face you and spread out his arms, as if offering you something, “By all means, go ahead and find them. Who am I to stop you?”

• You glared at him in silence until he finally cracked, “Alright, fine!” He groaned in exasperation, “Which one of our dear siblings did you want to speak to first?”

• The three of you ended up going to find Diego. You’d gained a soft spot for him after finding out he had been the first to try and resuscitate you the night you had died.

• The conversation between your two brothers was painful to watch. Klaus mostly ignored you and Ben, preferring to ramble about random shit that Diego clearly didn’t care about. You wanted to strangle him.

• Eventually (much to everyone’s relief) Allison came in to inform Diego and Klaus of the meeting going on in the living area. You couldn’t help but notice the way her brows seemed slightly furrowed, as if something was worrying her.

• Apart from Klaus, everyone was seated around the oak coffee table. You and Ben left him to pour himself a drink at the bar whilst Luther began the meeting. You found it slightly difficult to concentrate with the sound of glass clinking behind you, but thankfully Klaus quickly joined you, flippantly asking about refreshments. He shot you a grin as he spoke, clearly trying to lighten your mood.

• Luther looked puzzled, “What? No, there won’t be refreshments. And put that out, you know dad didn’t allow smoking in here.”

• Klaus ignored him and sat down on the couch next to Viktor. “Well the big guy’s still pretty uptight huh,” He commented, glancing over at the empty space you were occupying.

• Luther huffed, “Listen up. There’s still some important things we need to discuss, all right?”

• You frowned, not having a single clue as to what this meeting was about. Luckily Diego was wondering the same thing. “Like what?”

• Luther turned to him, “Like the way he died.”

• “I don’t understand. I thought they said it was a heart attack.” Viktor returned. You had almost forgotten he was there beside Klaus, remaining silent up until that point.

• “Yeah- according to the coroner.”

• “Well wouldn’t they know?”

• “Theoretically…” You audibly groaned at that, earning confused glances from Ben and Klaus.

• “He’s making this way more complicated than it needs to be.” You grumbled, “Klaus, please for the love of god tell Luther to stop turning everything into such a big deal.” Your brother shook his head as a clear ‘no’ before taking a pull from his cigarette.

• “Last time I spoke to dad he sounded strange.”

• Thankfully, you weren’t the only one who thought Luther was grasping at straws. Diego was quick to interject.

• “Luther, he was a paranoid, bitter old man who was starting to lose what was left of his marbles.”

• Luther immediately shook his head, “No, he must have known something was going to happen. He’s been hiding something from us.”

• “That’s not exactly breaking news,” Diego interrupted with a not-so-subtle eye roll.

• You could tell Luther was getting irritated by this point. It put you on edge. Conflict always made you nervous, especially when Luther was involved. “Me and Allison found blueprints for a human sized freezer underneath the basement. We tried taking the elevator down but that level needs a key to access.”

• Klaus suddenly perked up, “I don’t know if this is related, but I did find a key in dad’s desk earlier.” He shrugged, “Didn’t look all that important though so I didn’t say anything.”

• You frowned, he hadn’t told you or Ben.

• From the other side of the table, Allison took a step closer. “Klaus, we need that key. There might be something inside that freezer.”

• Your brother nodded, fishing around in his pockets, “Yeah, yeah of course. Just give me a second..” He yanked his hand out, brandishing a remarkably ordinary looking key. “Ah ha! There it is. You think this is the right one?” Luther took the key from him and studied it for a moment, “Well there’s only one way to find out.”

• Within mere seconds, all of your siblings had deserted their positions in the living room and were making their way to the elevator.

• It was a little cramped inside, even with you and Ben not taking up any space. You found that your spirit was half phasing through some of your siblings, as they left no gaps big enough for you occupy.

• Luther was the one to put the key into the hole, slowly twisting it as the others watched in anticipation. The light on the keypad flashed green, before the whole box shuddered and began slowly descending.

• It took a while for you to reach the level, and with no one speaking, the seconds seemed to drag on even longer. When the elevator doors finally slid open, no one moved.

• The space before you seemed to be a corridor, stretching ahead before ending with a heavy looking iron door. Diego was first to step out, leading the others to the end of the space. He rested a hand on the handle and turned around for confirmation.

• “Are you sure we wanna know what’s in there?” He murmured, suddenly feeling apprehensive about entering.

• “It’s too late to turn back now. We need to know what’s in that room, Diego,” Allison replied firmly, taking a step closer. He nodded with a sigh and pushed open the door. You hesitated, allowing your siblings to enter before you.

• In the centre of the room there was a large, grey cylinder next to a table holding a computer. Diego peered down at it, “I’m guessing this controls it.”

• Viktor ran a hand along the side, “Guys, there’s a button here. I think it might unlock the machine.”

• Ben’s hand came down to rest on your shoulder, making you flinch at the unexpected contact. “You ok? You haven’t said much,” He asked, voice laced with concern. You just shrugged and replied, “There’s nothing for me to say that hasn’t already been said by someone else.”

• “You think we’ll find a body in there?” He asked quietly. You laughed dryly, “What, you think Reginald killed someone and hid their body in a fancy freezer?” Ben didn’t share your amusement, “It’s clearly some kind of cryogenic freezer. What else would he have been using it for?”

• “I guess we’re about to find out.” You replied, watching as Luther helped Viktor open the heavy metal door.

• Icy cold steam came gushing out, momentarily concealing the shape that lay within. You took a cautious step closer, trying to get a clearer view of it. There was definitely some kind of body in there- and a small one at that.

• You turned to Ben, “Holy shit. If that’s some dead kid I might puke.” Your brother rolled his eyes in turn, and opened his mouth to reply, but the words seemed to catch in his throat.

• “Y/n?” Your head whipped around at the sound of your name. It had been years since you had heard anyone other than Ben or Klaus mention you, so hearing Viktor’s voice caught you off guard.

• He wasn’t looking at you though. You followed the direction of Viktor’s gaze down to the freezer and inhaled sharply at the sight. It was you. The same child who had died in 2006, lying there perfectly preserved. Your skin was unusually pale- almost dull, but not entirely corpse-like.

• Diego cautiously put his hand on your shoulder, and you noticed a faint warmth in the same spot on your spirit. “Is she alive?”

• Klaus took a protective step closer to your body and shook his head. “No guys, she’s dead. She-” He hesitated, locking eyes with you before turning back to Diego, “I know she’s dead, alright. If she were alive, she wouldn’t still look sixteen. Diego ignored him and ran his hand across your shoulder and over to your pulse point. A violent shiver racked through you, earning a questioning glance from Ben. “Are you ok?” He murmured, rubbing your back.

• “I- I can feel him touching my physical body.” You watched as Diego stopped moving and held two fingers in place. The whole room fell silent as everyone waited in anticipation to hear what he had to say.

• “She’s alive.”

• Klaus locked eyes with you, “That’s not possible. I’ve spoken to her ghost, that can’t be-”

• Allison cut him off, “What do you mean you’ve spoken to her?” Her voice was sharp and accusatory.

• “I can speak to ghosts Allison!” Klaus replied in exasperation, “That includes our sister.” From beside him, Luther frowned. “Wait. You’ve been in contact with Y/n this whole time and haven’t bothered to say anything?”

• Diego sighed in frustration, “Will you guys stop arguing for five fucking minutes. We need to try and wake her up.” You stiffened slightly, suddenly hit by a surge of apprehension. Were you even ready to wake up? It had been years since you’d actually spoken to your siblings. Memories of their past cruelty after Ben’s death came flooding back to you.

• “Hey, you’ll be ok. Klaus will look after you.” You looked up and saw Ben offering you a reassuring smile. Before you could open your mouth to reply, a wave of disorientation hit, and in an instant the world around you was black.

• For a moment everything was quiet, save for a high pitched ringing in your ears. Your body felt heavier than before, and cold too. Though this sensation was different to the faint chill you had grown accustomed to. This was more of a biting frost that gnawed at your extremities.

• With great effort, you forced your eyes open. It took a moment for you to adjust to the fluorescent lighting over your head, but soon the faces of your siblings became clearer around you.

• You suddenly became aware of a hand touching your cheek. Following the arm it belonged to, you realised it was Klaus. His dark eyes stared down intensely into yours, as if he hadn’t seen you in years.

• “How are you not dead?”

• Your lips parted, but no sound escaped. Memories of old books Reginald had made you read came to the forefront of your mind, but your throat was too sore to produce any intelligible words. He had made you study astral projection a long time ago, but you hadn’t given the topic much thought since. Perhaps your father knew more about your powers than he was letting on.

• Allison’s face drifted into your view, distracting you from your thoughts. She shot Klaus a stern look before looking back down at you, “We can worry about that later. For now let’s get you warmed up.”

• Your sister pulled you out from the freezer and held your shivering form close. Klaus noticed your chattering teeth and draped his jacket over your shoulders.

• Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Luther shift, “So… should we still go ahead with the funeral?” Your siblings exchanged hesitant glances, unsure of how to proceed, when you were suddenly hit with a vision. It was only a brief flash of something. A storm, a glowing blue light, and then finally, a face you never thought you’d see again.

• The moment had been so brief that none of your siblings realised anything had happened. It was Klaus who recognised that familiar haunted expression on your face, pulling you away from Allison and holding onto your shoulders with a concerned frown. “What did you see?”

• You just shook your head slowly, “It’s not possible.”

• Klaus gently squeezed your shoulders, “You know I’ll always believe you, Y/n. I’ll have your back no matter what.” His brown eyes stared deeply into yours, with a level of intensity that you rarely saw in him anymore. “Just tell me what you saw.”

• They wouldn’t believe you- hell, you hardly believed it yourself. Yet there was no denying what you had seen. What was going to happen. You took a deep breath and turned to face the rest of your siblings, whose sole attention was on you.

• “We need to go outside. Five is coming back.”

This took wayyy longer to write than I thought it would. This is an introduction to an au idea I’ve had in my head for a long time, hence why it’s pretty disjointed.

Also I know none of the characters exhibit much ‘yandere behaviour’ in this. I will build up to it in future works (which will include Five!!) 🙏

[x-reader-things]

Binge watched Arcane recently so guess who added some characters to the request list 👁🍵👁

Make sure to read all the rules and look at the prompt lists if need be-

[bluzebub19]

hello! can i request viktor or jayce with a reader who has autism and doesnt speak but is good at science?

Writer's note: Hello! Thanks so much for your request! This is like the first request I got and I already started on it. Hope you like it! Any tips with writing are very much appreciated!

Warnings: None, just fluffy stuff. Not proofread.

Pairing/s: Viktor x GN! reader who's autistic and nonverbal but loves science

Platonic Headcanons

● As a mentor or colleague, Viktor respects you a lot. He encourages your work and never underestimates your capabilities, treating you as an equal in every sense.

● He enjoys the calmness you bring to the lab, and he appreciates the efficiency and focus you put into your work

● Viktor is protective in his own way. If anyone tries to belittle or patronize you, he’s quick to step in. He may not be a physical one, but his words are sharp.

● “You mistake silence for weakness. A grave error, I assure you.”

● He takes the time to understand how you prefer to communicate. Whether it’s through notes, gestures, or subtle expressions, he adapts because he doesn't want you to feel self-conscious. A feeling he's very familiar with when he views his body, his disease as a weakness.

● Viktor occasionally shares personal anecdotes from his own life, hoping to make you feel more comfortable around him.

●To him, he finds it refreshing to work with someone who sees the world as he does. You make him feel understood in a way that's rare for him.

Romantic Headcanons

• The platonic headcanons, of course, still applies here.

• Viktor truly admires your dedication and love to science, and he often finds himself fascinated by the way you approach and solve problems. He's intrigued as well by your ability to notice patterns and details others overlook. Your perspective makes him think differently, which is why he values your opinion.

• Viktor is patient and observant. He never pushes you to speak, respecting your methods of communication. Instead, he learns to read your body language, small gestures, or the notes you scribble down to express yourself. Even so, he’s comfortable with your silence and finds it peaceful rather than awkward.

• Viktor’s subtle affection shows in little things: placing a blanket over your shoulders when you were too focused on work and fell asleep on your desk, or saving the last of your favorite snacks for you.

• When he realizes his feelings for you, it’s a quiet epiphany. He isn't one to confess dramatically, he shows his affection through mostly his actions. A touch on your hand, a gentle smile when you accomplish something—he hopes you notice. Though, that's not to say his words aren't beautiful to hear when it rolls of his tongue. He manages to sound like a poet with how he describes his feelings without even saying "I love you." Because to him, those words are an understatement.

• If you reciprocate, Viktor treasures your love like it’s the most precious discovery he’s ever made. He cherishes every small moment with you and continues to support you in every way he can.