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aspenmissing · 27 days ago

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How about the Arcane folks with and S/O that is a polyglot but it’s never really come into play before until they’re caught singing idly in another language, maybe just going about some mindless task. (Personally, I can sing tunes in German, Italian, French, and Japanese). I dunno. I just thought it would be neat. The first time I heard my mother speaking in Latin, and thus realized she spoke Latin blew my mind!

ᴍᴜʟᴛɪʟɪɴɢᴜᴀʟ ᴍᴇʟᴏᴅɪᴇꜱ

ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ | ᴊᴀʏᴠɪᴋ | ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ | ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ | ᴊɪɴx || ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ || 3303 ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ || ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ɴ/ᴀ

ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛ ᴀɴꜱᴡᴇʀꜱ: ʜᴇʟʟᴏ ᴍʏ ᴅᴇᴀʀ!! ɪ ᴅᴏ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ ᴛʜɪꜱ, ɪ ᴍᴀɴᴀɢᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ꜱᴇᴀʀᴄʜ ᴜᴘ ꜱᴏᴍᴇ ꜱᴏɴɢꜱ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ᴇᴀᴄʜ ʟᴀɴɢᴜᴀɢᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴜꜱᴇᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ʟʏʀɪᴄꜱ, ꜱᴏ ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ᴅᴏ ꜰᴏʀɢɪᴠᴇ ᴍᴇ ɪꜰ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ɪꜱ ᴡʀᴏɴɢ! ᴀɴᴅ ɪ ᴛʜɪɴᴋ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ɪꜱ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ꜱᴏ ꜰᴜᴄᴋɪɴɢ ᴄᴏᴏʟ, ᴀɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ꜱʜᴏᴜʟᴅ ʙᴇ ᴅᴀᴍɴ ᴘʀᴏᴜᴅ ᴏꜰ ʏᴏᴜʀꜱᴇʟꜰ!! ᴀʟʟ ᴛʜᴏꜱᴇ ʟᴀɴɢᴜᴀɢᴇꜱ ᴀʀᴇ ꜱᴏ ʙᴇᴀᴜᴛɪꜰᴜʟ! <3

JAYCE - ITALIAN

The warm glow of the late afternoon sun filtered through the high windows of the workshop, casting elongated golden streaks across the scattered blueprints and tools. Y/N moved around the cluttered space, absentmindedly humming as she wiped down a worktable, her voice barely above a whisper as she shifted into soft, melodic Italian.

"Volare, oh oh… Cantare, oh oh oh oh… Nel blu, dipinto di blu… Felice di stare lassù…" ("Nel blu, dipinto di blu" by Domenico Modugno)

Jayce paused in the doorway, hand still resting on the frame. He had come looking for her, some half-formed question about a mechanism on the tip of his tongue, but now? Now, he stood utterly frozen, captivated.

Y/N had always been a presence in his life—sharp-witted, endlessly patient with his occasional bouts of genius and recklessness alike. He knew her, or so he had thought. But never had he heard her voice like this. Never had he known that she spoke another language, let alone sang so effortlessly in one.

He took a step forward, boots clicking against the tiled floor. Y/N, still unaware of his presence, continued singing, her voice weaving around the tune with a kind of careless grace. It wasn’t a performance—it was something unguarded, natural, like breathing.

Jayce cleared his throat, a little awkwardly. “Well, that’s new.”

Y/N startled, her hands gripping the rag she’d been using. She turned, eyes wide for a fraction of a second before they softened in recognition. “Jayce.”

“Didn’t mean to scare you.” He smiled, stepping further into the room. “I just—since when do you speak Italian?”

A slow, knowing smile curled her lips. “Since always?” she teased. “It’s not something that usually comes up when we’re debating stabilizer cores or arcane conductivity.”

Jayce huffed a laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, fair point. But, damn, Y/N, you’re—” He hesitated, searching for the right word. “—really good. That was beautiful.”

She shrugged, setting the rag aside. “It’s just something I picked up over the years. I like languages. Guess I never had a reason to show off before.”

Jayce tilted his head, curiosity sparking in his eyes. “How many?”

Y/N grinned, leaning against the table. “Enough.”

He let out a short laugh, eyes crinkling at the corners. “That’s not an answer.”

“It is if I want to be mysterious,” she countered playfully.

Jayce shook his head, crossing his arms. “You are full of surprises, aren’t you?”

She simply smirked and, just for fun, replied in flawless Piltover-accented Shuriman, “And you’ve only just begun to notice?”

Jayce blinked. Then blinked again. “Oh, now you’re just showing off.”

Y/N only winked before turning back to her task, resuming her song as if he hadn’t just been completely blindsided by this new revelation.

Jayce grinned to himself, watching her for a moment longer before shaking his head and heading back out.

Yeah. He was definitely in trouble.

VIKTOR - LATIN

The soft hum of a melody drifted through Viktor’s laboratory, curling in the air like a whispered secret. At first, he barely noticed it, his mind too tangled in the intricate blueprints spread across his desk. But as the voice grew stronger, words threading into a song, his quill stilled, suspended mid-air.

Latin.

He recognized it immediately. The cadence, the lyrical rise and fall, each syllable shaped with effortless grace. It was old—ancient, even—woven with history and meaning, yet it rolled from Y/N’s lips as if it were second nature.

"Dona nobis pacem, Domine," she sang softly, the prayer-like plea slipping past her lips as she worked. The words—Grant us peace, O Lord—carried an almost hypnotic rhythm, reverberating through the quiet of the lab. ("Dona Nobis Pacem Domine" by Taize)

He turned in his chair, gripping the handle of his cane as he stood. His gaze swept the room until he found her. She was entirely oblivious to his scrutiny, her focus set on some absentminded task. A book she had borrowed from his collection lay open beside her, but her hands were occupied elsewhere—carefully sorting through small, labeled vials.

The scene was unassuming, yet Viktor found himself unable to look away.

“Your pronunciation is quite impressive,” he finally said, voice laced with curiosity.

Y/N startled, her song cutting off abruptly. She looked over her shoulder, eyes widening at the sight of him. “Oh—Viktor, I didn’t realize you were listening.”

“You did not think I would notice someone singing in a dead language?” he asked, amusement curling at the edge of his words. He stepped closer, leaning slightly on his cane as he studied her. “Most people struggle with Latin. Yet you speak it as if it is your first tongue.”

A slow smile spread across her lips. “Not my first,” she admitted. “But one of many.”

His brows lifted. “Many?”

She tilted her head, as if considering whether to elaborate. “Languages are… a bit of a hobby of mine.”

A spark of intrigue flickered in his eyes. “How many?”

“Fluently?” She counted off on her fingers. “Six, but I can get by in a handful more.”

Viktor let out a low chuckle, shaking his head in quiet disbelief. “And yet, I have never heard you speak anything beyond our common tongue.”

She shrugged, absentmindedly turning a vial between her fingers. “It never really came up before.”

“Hah,” Viktor mused, rubbing his chin. “I think it is wasted potential.”

She quirked a brow. “Oh?”

He gestured vaguely, his amusement giving way to something thoughtful. “Language is a bridge between minds. A tool for knowledge. And here you are, fluent in six, keeping them hidden away like locked doors.”

Y/N chuckled. “It’s not intentional. I suppose I just never found a reason to bring it up.”

Viktor hummed, watching her with the keen interest of a scientist discovering a new anomaly. Then, in a moment of quiet mischief, he leaned a little closer and, in near-perfect Latin, murmured, "Tum forte rationem reddam tibi" (Then perhaps I should give you a reason)

Y/N blinked, her lips parting in surprise. Then, slowly, she grinned.

“Oh, Viktor,” she said, switching effortlessly into the same language. "Ego amare te videre tentant" (I would love to see you try)

JAYVIK - SPANISH

The apartment smelled heavenly—garlic, onions, and the warm scent of simmering tomatoes filled the air. The soft hum of a familiar voice drifted through the home, accompanied by the quiet clatter of kitchen utensils. Viktor and Jayce, exhausted from a long day at the Academy, stepped inside, the door clicking shut behind them.

Jayce let out a heavy sigh, rolling his shoulders as he toed off his boots. "Something smells amazing."

"And it sounds rather pleasant, too," Viktor added, his brow lifting as he listened more closely. Y/N's voice floated from the kitchen, melodic and warm, the words foreign yet oddly soothing. He leaned against his cane and exchanged a look with Jayce, who was already padding forward to investigate.

They found her standing at the stove, absentmindedly stirring a pot of sauce, hips swaying ever so slightly as she sang to herself. The soft flickering of candlelight reflected off the countertops, bathing the kitchen in a golden glow. Neither of them had ever heard her sing before—at least, not like this.

Her voice was soft yet rich as she sang, "Bésame, bésame mucho, como si fuera esta noche la última vez…" The melody of the classic song carried through the kitchen, gentle and slow, as though she was lost in the moment, not realizing she had an audience. (Bésame Mucho by Andrea Bocelli)

Jayce leaned against the doorframe, folding his arms. "I had no idea you could sing."

Y/N startled slightly, the wooden spoon clattering against the side of the pot as she turned to face them. "Oh! I didn’t hear you come in. How was work?"

"Work was long," Viktor answered, stepping further into the kitchen, his sharp eyes gleaming with amusement. "But this—this is a rather lovely surprise. Spanish, is it?"

Y/N nodded, a little sheepish, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Yeah, I guess I just never really had a reason to mention it before."

Jayce grinned. "You're full of surprises, huh? So, how many languages do you actually speak?"

She hesitated for a moment, then shrugged. "A few."

Viktor let out a soft chuckle, his voice carrying that familiar teasing lilt. "A 'few' could mean anything. Come now, don't be modest."

Y/N smirked and wiped her hands on a towel before turning back to stir the sauce. "Enough to make sure I can always eavesdrop on people when I need to."

Jayce let out a bark of laughter while Viktor shook his head with fond exasperation.

"And yet, you've been keeping this talent from us?" Viktor tsked playfully, stepping closer to press a light kiss to the side of her head. "Very unfair."

Jayce wrapped his arms around her from behind, his chin resting on her shoulder. "You should sing more often. I like it."

She huffed a laugh, leaning into his warmth. "Maybe I will—if you're both good."

Viktor smirked, leaning on his cane as he reached to steal a taste of the sauce. "And what if we are not?"

Y/N swatted his hand away, laughing as she turned back to her cooking. "Then you'll just have to earn it."

The three of them stood there, wrapped in the warmth of home, teasing and laughing, the stress of the day melting away in the glow of the kitchen light.

VANDER - GERMAN

The Last Drop hummed with the usual warmth of an early evening rush, the chatter of patrons mixing with the clink of glasses and the scrape of chairs. Vander leaned against the bar, arms folded, watching as you went about your quiet task—wiping down one of the tables near the back, absentmindedly humming to yourself.

It started with just a soft hum, a quiet melody beneath your breath, something easy, something familiar.

"Guten Abend, gut’ Nacht, mit Rosen bedacht…"

The German words slipped from your lips like silk, effortlessly smooth, flowing through the tavern air. You weren’t even thinking about it, your hands moving on muscle memory as you wiped the wooden surface, swaying slightly to the lullaby’s rhythm.

Vander straightened up, brows lifting as he recognized the unfamiliar tongue. A glance to the side told him he wasn’t the only one caught off guard—Powder sat at a nearby table, her blue eyes wide with curiosity, while Mylo and Claggor exchanged confused looks. Even Vi, who had been mid-drink, lowered her cup with a quirked brow.

You, completely unaware of the sudden attention, kept singing softly as you moved toward another table.

"Mit Näglein besteckt, schlupf unter die Deck…" ("Guten Abend, gut’ Nacht" by Johannes Brahms)

“Since when could she do that?” Mylo muttered, eyes darting between you and Vander.

“Dunno,” Vi murmured, intrigued. “What is that, anyway?”

“It’s… German, I think,” Claggor guessed.

Powder perked up. “Is she casting a spell?!”

Vander chuckled, shaking his head. “No spell, love. Just a song.”

Your voice was warm and gentle, carrying the lullaby with the same tenderness one might use when rocking a child to sleep. The foreign words weren’t harsh or strange; they were beautiful, lyrical in a way that felt like something from a dream.

Vander couldn’t help but smile to himself, resting his chin on his knuckles as he watched you sway slightly with the melody. He’d known you for years, held you close on the coldest of nights, whispered his love against your skin—but this? This was new.

As if sensing the sudden silence around you, you finally looked up, blinking when you caught the whole bar staring. Your singing cut off immediately, and your eyes darted to Vander in confusion.

“What?”

Vander smirked. “Didn’t know you had more secrets, love.”

Your brows furrowed for a beat before realization dawned. “Oh.” You huffed out a small laugh, rubbing the back of your neck sheepishly. “Right. The German thing. Guess that never really came up, huh?”

Powder practically vibrated with excitement. “You speak other languages?!”

You shrugged, a bit bashful under all the attention. “Yeah, a few.”

“How many’s ‘a few’?” Vi pressed, smirking.

You glanced at Vander, who was still watching you with that amused, knowing look, like he was seeing you in a whole new light.

“Uh… seven?”

A collective groan filled the tavern.

“Seven?!” Mylo looked positively betrayed. “Seven damn languages and you never said anything?”

You raised your hands in defence. “It never really came up!”

Powder grabbed your arm with wide, pleading eyes. “Say something cool!”

You laughed, shaking your head before leaning down to murmur in German, “Du bist ein kleiner Wirbelwind, nicht wahr?” (You're a little whirlwind, aren't you?)

The little girl gasped, even though she had no idea what you had just said. “That sounded cool.”

Vi chuckled, shaking her head as she leaned back. “Unbelievable.”

Vander finally pushed himself off the bar and made his way over, slipping an arm around your waist as he pressed a kiss to your temple. “And here I thought I knew everything about you,” he murmured.

You grinned, tilting your head up to him. “Guess I gotta keep you on your toes somehow.”

Vander chuckled, squeezing you just a little tighter. “That you do, love. That you do.”

SILCO - FRENCH

The waters of the harbor lapped lazily against the wooden stilts of the city above, though the sound barely reached the confines of Silco’s office. The dim lanterns flickered against the damp stone walls, casting long shadows over the desk where papers lay scattered—contracts, reports, and coded messages that would shape the underbelly of Zaun before the night was through.

Y/N sat across from him, idly sifting through a stack of documents, her fingers smudged faintly with ink. She had offered to help—an amusing thing, considering the weight of the decisions each page held—but Silco had allowed it. If only to keep her near.

The room was quiet, save for the scratch of his pen against parchment, until something softer slipped into the air.

"Quand il me prend dans ses bras, Il me parle tout bas, Je vois la vie en rose..."

Silco’s pen halted mid-stroke.

His gaze flicked up, sharp and searching. Y/N was unaware, her head tilted slightly as she flipped through another document, her lips parting absentmindedly as she continued.

"Il me dit des mots d’amour, Des mots de tous les jours..."

The melody curled through the air like cigarette smoke, languid and sweet, a stark contrast to the ink-stained dealings of the night. Silco leaned back in his chair, watching her with newfound scrutiny. He had never heard her speak like this before.

Not in that tongue.

“You never told me you spoke Piltover’s language,” he murmured.

Y/N paused, blinking up at him as if only now realizing he had been listening. A small smile tugged at her lips.

“It’s not Piltover’s language,” she corrected. “It’s French. From someplace far.”

Silco hummed, considering this. “I see.” He set his pen down with deliberate slowness, steepling his fingers. “And how many of these tongues do you speak, my dear?”

She smirked, tilting her head. “Enough.”

A scoff of amusement left him. “That’s vague.”

“That’s the point,” she quipped, returning to her work.

But Silco wasn’t done with her just yet. He rose from his chair with that slow, measured grace of his, moving to her side. He plucked the paper from her hands and set it aside, fingers ghosting over her wrist.

“Sing it again.”

She arched a brow. “You just want to hear it because it’s something of me you didn’t know.”

Silco leaned down, his breath warm against her ear as he murmured, “I want to hear it because it sounds like honey when you say it.”

Y/N let out a soft laugh but indulged him, her voice weaving through the room once more.

"Il me parle tout bas, Je vois la vie en rose..." ("La Vie en Rose" by Édith Piaf)

Silco, ever the man who wielded power in words and silence alike, found himself utterly transfixed.

It was one thing to know Y/N—to trace the curve of her body in the dark, to memorize the cadence of her voice in argument and affection. But this?

This was something new. Something unexpected.

And Silco did so enjoy unearthing secrets.

JINX - JAPANESE

Jinx never really paid much attention to the little things—unless they were flashy, explosive, or chaotic. But today, something caught her ear that made her pause mid-tinker.

You were just going about your usual routine, cleaning up the mess she’d made in her latest project, when you started singing. It wasn’t anything particularly grand or dramatic—just soft, idle humming at first. Then the words came, foreign yet fluid, rolling off your tongue effortlessly.

"Kimi to natsu no owari Shourai no yume Ookina kibou wasurenai~" ("Secret Base Kimi ga Kureta Mono" by ZONE)

Jinx squinted, leaning forward from where she sat cross-legged on the floor, tools scattered around her. One of her wrenches dangled loosely from her fingers, forgotten as she honed in on the unfamiliar melody. Her usually chaotic mind latched onto the soft cadence of your voice, the way the words curled and dipped in a way that was completely foreign yet strangely soothing.

“The hell is that?” she blurted out.

You blinked, startled, before turning to her. “Huh?”

Jinx tilted her head, blue braids shifting with the motion. “What was that? That weird—pretty, but weird—thing you were just mumblin’?”

“Oh, uh—Japanese,” you admitted, rubbing the back of your neck. “Just a song I know.”

Jinx's eyes gleamed with curiosity. “Pfft—since when do you know Japanese?”

You shrugged. “Since always?”

Jinx looked at you as if you’d just sprouted a second head. “Okay, first of all—what? And second, you never told me you were some kinda language genius!”

“I mean, it never really came up?”

Jinx huffed, tossing her wrench over her shoulder with a dramatic pout. “Ugh, how could you keep something this cool from me? Do you know other ones?”

You smirked. “A few.”

She squinted suspiciously. “How many’s ‘a few’?”

“...Five. Maybe six?”

Jinx gasped, grabbing your shoulders and shaking you slightly. “Are you serious?! That’s so cool! Do the thing again—sing something!”

You chuckled before obliging, switching languages effortlessly. This time, you chose something in French, the words lilting and elegant, a stark contrast to the chaotic environment of Jinx’s workshop. Jinx leaned in, fascinated, her grin widening with each syllable.

“Ohhh, this is the best thing ever,” she cackled, clapping her hands together. “You gotta teach me something! Oh! No—wait! We should mess with people! Imagine someone tries talkin’ to us and you just hit ‘em with some fancy foreign gibberish! Their brains would short-circuit!”

You shook your head with a chuckle, knowing full well she was already concocting a dozen ridiculous scenarios in her mind.

Jinx suddenly gasped, pointing an accusing finger at you. “WAIT. How many times have you done this and I just didn’t notice? Have you been cursing me out in different languages? OH MY GOD, HAVE YOU BEEN TRASH-TALKING ME IN SECRET?”

You snorted. “No, Jinx. I’d do that to your face.”

Jinx narrowed her eyes at you before breaking into laughter. “Fair enough, fair enough.” She twirled a screwdriver between her fingers before pointing it at you like a conductor’s baton. “Alright, polyglot extraordinaire, you and me? We’re gonna have some fun with this.”

You didn’t know what that meant yet, but knowing Jinx… it probably involved some kind of chaos. And honestly? You weren’t even mad about it.

#Arcane #arcane fandom #arcane fluff #reader insert #jinx x platonic!reader #jayce x reader #jayce x you #jayce talis x reader #jayce x y/n #viktor x y/n #viktor x reader #jayce x reader x viktor #viktor x you #vander x reader #silco x reader #jayvik x reader

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