Congratulations On Reaching 4000!! I Read Your TG Drabbles And Absolutely Fell In Love With Your Writing

Congratulations on reaching 4000!! I read your TG Drabbles and absolutely fell in love with your writing so I was wondering if I could get prompt 24 + Urie 💕💕 fem! Ghoul reader x quinx member Urie!! Thank you :)

# tags: scenario; kinda enemies/lovers and current relationship; light romance; drama; angst; ghoul!reader & quinx!kuki; crying, vomit and blood mention; dead body; kinda ooc!kuki (but not much); suggestive

includes: female reader ft. kuki urie {tokyo ghoul}

author’s note: hi! thank you very much for this request! i really like kuki and i am really happy that i can write about him! love u

Congratulations On Reaching 4000!! I Read Your TG Drabbles And Absolutely Fell In Love With Your Writing

24. “I’m a monster! Can’t you see it?!”

Your blood-stained long T-shirt, tears on your cheeks flushed with heat, a few strands of hair on the dirty floor, and the fear in your eyes seemed to the young Inspector an image that was downright terrifying, even nightmarish; however, not because of your appearance and the look of the room you both were in, but because of how scared and sad you were at that time. How much your eyes shone with self-loathing and how damned deep down you wanted to disappear and never be born.

“I’m a monster! Can’t you see it?!”

Of course he knew you were a ghoul. The walking grotesque, his enemy, the walking death, humanity’s greatest failure. A abominable monster.

He knew and watched you for months, studying your whole body and your behavior – he believed that he would eventually find a magical solution that would restore your humanity. He has kept you as a secret for a long time from the rest of his co-workers, from his command and from his own family. Although he knew every day that you could attack him, he bravely endured your outbursts of aggression and murderous desire, insatiable anger.

He was there when you vomited trying to eat a tomato and cheese sandwich, he was there when you cried into his shoulder, begging him to kill you, and he was there when you felt too human, wishing he would love you and stay with you for ever. He was in your worst and nastiest moments, but he was also next to you when you smiled slightly as you laid the last wild draw four card on the table and shouted a loud, almost carefree ‘Uno!’. He was always there and will always be.

It was hard for him to bear the sight of your hands in the dark liquid, your torn clothes and the traces of murder that were right under his feet. You killed an innocent woman who got a promotion in the family business two days ago. You killed a person who probably had a family who loved her, children who had to be kissed before bed, or even a dog who was eagerly waiting for her to put some of his favorite food in his bowl. You ate half of her firm, sweet flesh with tears in your eyes, and when Kuki caught you in the act, you nearly ripped out your own windpipe to relieve your own suffering. If there’s one thing you hated, it was definitely being a ghoul.

The silence between you two was interrupted only by your painful crying and the sound of cars driving down the street a few floors below. You looked alternately at the dead headless woman and at the man you loved, once again begging him to finally kill you. Of course, he didn’t do it that night, nor when you begged him to do the same three days later, clutching his shirt in a tight grip; behind you lay the lower limb of some five years old child.

It was hard for both of you to live with the thought that you loved a human and he loved a being he should have killed the first time he discovered your true colors. But he couldn’t do that. He just couldn’t.

You were both weak and pathetic.

Overlock Stitch Part 2/?

Summary:

Viktor is just trying his best to survive his years as a student at the academy when a girl studying textiles suddenly begs him to let her tailor his uniform. She is right, it doesn't fit, but he isn't in the business of accepting charity from strangers. "Please?" She asks, "It would be fully anonymous on your part and we would both be better off." Then again, but with feeling, "please?" Viktor eyes her again and against his better judgement, presents an undeserved olive branch, "Will you be here tomorrow?" Her smile is so wide it almost makes him want to recoil. He wonders if her cheeks hurt.

Contains: Third person POV, She/Her Pronouns for reader

Word Count: 5,311

Read on AO3

She manages to shove her embarrassment down long enough to get the photos taken, organising them into a neat stack and then leaving them on her worktable for later. Viktor has gone back to not talking very much at all, wordlessly adjusting his stance for her photos but otherwise just peering down at her quietly. His eyes are coolly intelligent and piercing, she has to avoid making eye contact or she completely looses her focus.

Her hands shake when she picks up her pins, sticking a few into the pincushion on her wrist for easier access, "I'll start with your shirt, if that's alright."

Viktor nods and continues watching intently as she takes a tentative step forward and reaches for his wrist. She notices his knuckles tighten when her fingers brush against him, but she tries her best to ignore it. The cuffs on his shirt are a touch too long, so she exhales an even breath out through her nose and folds the fabric of his sleeve up under itself so she can raise the cuff and pin along the seam-line.

Her voice shakes, but talking makes her feel less nervous, "It's best to make all the alterations against the existing seam, that way no one can tell you've had any tailoring done at all." she grabs a few more pins from her pincushion and works to adjust the loose fabric around his elbow, "That's why most of my classmates prefer to do design work, because if you're a good tailor, no one will ever notice you."

Viktor hums at that, it's a pleasant sound. Oddly warm.

Since he doesn't seem to mind her talking, she keeps doing it, "The forearm of your shirt fits pretty well, but the upper arm will need some work. Just-" her brow furrows as she pins along the seam all the way up his arm, "Just try to stay still, I haven't um, I haven't had much of a chance to do alterations on a person."

"Ah, I am a test subject, then?"

She isn't sure if that was supposed to be a joke, but it makes her laugh and she lets it, "I suppose so? Most of the other students I've done work for only ask for cosmetic alterations, minor, usually. I've had plenty of practice on mannequins though, so just don't breathe and it'll be fine."

This time Viktor laughs, a gentle chuckle the rises up and out from his chest. Hearing it is like an achievement in and of itself and she can't help the shy smile that tugs at the corners of her lips.

"Hey, no laughing either or you'll get a pin in the ribs."

He exhales an amused breath and then says, "Yes, of course, my apologies."

She moves onto his second arm, feeling much more confident this time. Part of her wants to express just how grateful she is that Viktor even agreed to meeting with her today, but anxiety churning in her gut worries about coming on too strong, too desperate. So she keeps her mouth shut, adjusting his cuff and then pinning up the length of his arm the same as the previous.

"There." She says, quietly admiring her own handiwork, "Much better already. Um, I will need you to hop down from the platform for just a moment, I won't be able to reach your shoulders while you're up there."

As before, Viktor follows her directions quickly and without complaint, she does notice the way he braces his cane on the floor before stepping down and tries her best to avert her eyes when his brows draw together in what is clearly a wince of pain. She resists the urge to apologise again, because she gets the sense he doesn't like when she does that, even though the word sorry escapes her more often than breath does. Like it's perpetually waiting in her lungs.

"Thank you." She says instead, which is marginally better. Viktor just nods in response.

Her heart jumps a little when she steps towards him again, assessing his waistcoat first. It's too long, and loose around his chest. It will need quite a bit of work, and presuming the shirt underneath is the same size, it will need just about the same amount. She hums, eyeing the upward jut of his left shoulder, debating if she can account for his uneven stance when pinning just to save herself from having to ask any invasive questions. In the end, she decides against it, getting the job done properly will be worth the momentary embarrassment. No matter how much her hands shake at the thought.

"I'll need your shoulders at neutral when I'm pinning, or it will end up wonky." She begins shakily, wringing her hands together. Then, with trepidation she adds, "will you be alright to stand without your cane for a few minutes?"

Viktor tilts his head back and forth, weighing the question before giving her a curt nod.

"Okay!" She says, relieved that he didn't seem at all offended by her question and reaching out to take the cane from him.

The moment her fingers brush against it, Viktor yanks back from her, every muscle in his body tensing, his eyes fiery and jaw set in a challenging line. The inhale and exhale of his breath is sharp, a furious punch of his chest and the grip he has on the cane turns his knuckles white.

She has no idea how to break the thick and painful silence, her hand still half raised in the air because she is worried that even lowering it back to her side might seem like a threat. Her mouth opens and closes, as she tries to figure out what she has done wrong, what to say or do to fix this. The arch of his brow is dangerous, threatening, but with her eyes locked to his in a frozen panic, she can't help but notice how pretty their colour is. Even if the intensity of his gaze makes her nearly want to turn and run from the room.

"Never take it from me." He hisses between gritted teeth, "You Pilties think that you can just take whatever you want whenever you want, but you cannot ever take this from me, do you understand? Never."

Her heart thumps wildly in her chest and she suddenly remembers yesterday when he asked if she thought he was dangerous. He is all sharp angles, looming over her with a posture that screams violence. But he doesn't move, he just keeps on staring at her and maybe because she takes the time to look, she thinks that she sees something like fear hiding behind his eyes.

She takes a deep breath and tries to keep her voice even when she says, "I shouldn't have done that, I'm sorry."

He doesn't offer false platitudes, doesn't tell her that it's fine, or that she doesn't need to apologise. Doesn't insinuate that there will be no harm done so long as she offers him a favour in return for his silence, instead he bites a quick, "Do not do that again." and it's equal parts refreshing and terrifying.

"Yes, I won't. I'm sorry"

The tension leaves his shoulders a little, but she can tell he is still wound tight, "Go get the stool." He says quickly, inclining his head towards the tall stool by Eliza's project. She does as asked, bringing it over and placing it next to him. He leans the cane against it, well within arm's reach. It's only now, when the intensity in the room has begun to dissipate, that she realises exactly what she did when she snatched his cane from him. It's not just an object, it is his mobility and she had just tried to take it away without permission.

She picks at her cuticles, once again getting the sense that a plethora of apologies will not have the desired effect, not matter how desperately she wants to let them loose. Instead she takes a deep breath in through her nose and endeavours to prove that she is at least capable of not making the same mistake twice, "Is it alright if I get back to doing the alterations?" she asks quietly, adding on a quick, "You can leave if you want, I'd understand if you did."

"No. I'd rather you finish what you started." Viktor answers, short sharp and polite enough but no politer.

Relief rushes through her, not an irreparable mistake, then. She's so glad. Even though she offered for him to leave, she has no idea what she would have done if he had. So she doesn't bother wasting time on hypotheticals, instead she clamps a couple of pins between her teeth and positions herself on top of the platform behind Viktor to get a better look at his waistcoat, "Stay still, just like before." she slurs around the pins in her mouth, quickly working to adjust the seams across the width of his shoulders. He needs a good inch removed before the hemline sits at the appropriate spot on his hips and she is quick to pin both sides evenly.

"Much better." She says quietly to herself, "Would you mind taking your waistcoat off now? Then I can pin your shirt and you'll be free to stand with your cane again."

He doesn't reply, just starts carefully removing the garment, being sure not to poke himself with any of the pins on the sleeves of his shirt. When removed, Viktor hangs the waistcoat on the same stool where his cane is resting and then returns to standing straight.

"You're okay to keep standing a little longer, right?" She ventures cautiously, "You aren't in any pain?"

Viktor scoffs, "I am always in some degree of pain." one of his hands waves through the air in a vague gesture, "Though if it ever becomes noteworthy, I will be sure to inform you."

A hot lick of shame travels up the length of her spine and she can't help wondering why she had even asked such a stupid question. Her mouth begins to form the shape the word sorry-

"I would prefer you did not apologise." Viktor says before she gets the chance, "If you were to apologise for all the things wrong with me we would be here all day."

"Oh." Is all she is able to say. She doesn't much like his assertion that there is something wrong with him, multiple somethings, even, but she can't even begin to formulate a sentence that could properly convey that without making things worse somehow. So she doesn't bother trying, "I won't then."

Viktor nods once, "Good."

She wordlessly begins pinning the excess fabric on his shirt. His shoulders are quite broad, at least proportionally, it's honestly a shame that he has been walking around in such an ill-fitting uniform for so long. She tries not to think about it too much, but even now she can tell that he will look quite captivating in properly tailored garments.

It's only when she steps back down from the platform and returns to his front that she realises how much of a relief it was standing behind him. Viktor's eyes unsettle her with their summer-gold brilliance. His gaze is so sharp and intelligent that it feels like her insides are being slowly unspooled anytime she gains enough confidence to meet it.

"Okay, your shoulders are all done." She says quietly.

Viktor quickly grabs his cane again, settling into what is clearly a more comfortable stance. She doesn't talk much when she works on pinning the sides of his shirt, only once to ask him to put his waistcoat back on so she can pin that too. Then twice to make sure he stays still while she pins up the side of his ribcage. As close as she is standing, she can hear the rasp of his breath in his chest, the way it shudders out from him on each exhale. She really isn't used to tailoring clothes for strangers, her hands shake from the proximity and her heart thunders in her chest when she accidentally brushes her knuckles against the side of his waist.

"Sorry." She mutters before she can stop it.

Viktor sounds tired when he replies, "Please just be careful."

"O-Of course, sorry"

"And stop apologising."

She flinches, "Yes, sorry-"

Viktor says her name, it's the first time he has done it, she half thought he may have forgotten what it was. She pauses in the middle of adjusting his waistline, peering up at him. They are very close to each-other, so close that she can see how well bitten his lips are, notice the length of his eyelashes.

"You are like a frightened little mouse, has anyone ever told you that before?" He asks.

She feels her cheeks flushing, "Y-Yes, though never so kindly."

Viktor hums, she is close enough that she hears the sound rumble through his chest, "Are you nearly finished?"

"Oh! Yes! Nearly!" She quickly returns her hands to task, "Just a pin or two on this side and then I can move onto your trousers."

The quiet returns like a blanket, the silence awkward and heavy. She feels the urge to break it, to talk aloud to herself just to fill the void with something. She doesn't instead she just chews on her lower lip as she finishes adjusting the seams under Viktor's left arm.

"Done?" He asks.

She nods, "Yes, thank you. Would you mind hopping back up onto the platform? Just so I don't have to lay down on the floor to get at your ankles."

Mercifully, that makes Viktor smile, just a little. It's barely a tug at the corners of his mouth, but she drinks it down anyway. He doesn't offer a response, though, just returns to his spot on the platform and watches her intently as she grabs a few more pins and sticks them into her pincushion.

"Your trousers do seem especially loose." Now that his waistcoat sits at the right spot she can see his belt tugged tightly around his hips to keep them from falling down, "Could you take your belt off? I'll start there."

Viktor seems apprehensive at first, but then does as asked. He lays the belt over the seat of the stool he was resting his cane against before. Without the belt, the waistband of the trousers gape almost wide open, many many inches of extra fabric. She tries not to think too much about how slim his hips are, swallowing thickly as she begins to adjust the sides and back of the waistband so it will at least stay up.

Nervously, she starts talking, "Um, technically, the uniform trousers should be worn with braces, not a belt. We should have a couple laying around in the back of the workshop, we have a lot of abandoned accessories." She sucks in a breath as she pins the right side of his trousers tight, the base of her palm brushing against his protruding hipbone, "They probably won't be the right colour, but so long as you don't take off your waistcoat no one will notice."

Viktor scoffs, lifting his right arm to give her more space at his hip, "And what would I owe you?"

She peers up at him, he has his head turned away from her, his jaw tight, "Nothing! I promise! People just leave them behind and don't come back for them, we even have a couple from the theatre department that they don't need anymore." she exhales an uneven breath and starts working to adjust the seams down the side of his thigh, "And I suppose if someone does notice, I can just tell them I lost it, it wouldn't be a big deal."

Viktor doesn't respond for a long time, she makes it all the way down to his knee before he does, "I suppose I will take them, then."

She lets out a relieved sigh, "That's good. I'm glad."

He stays quiet again while she pins down the rest of his leg. She does note that he favours the left one, so she is very careful when manipulating the fabric on his right. He shifts uncomfortably once or twice, but doesn't tell her to stop and he did promise to tell her if his pain was noteworthy, so all she can do is take him at his word and assume that he is fine. When she is at his ankles, she quickly grabs her low stool and places it at the edge of the platform to make the last few pins a bit easier.

She eyes the tight fabric at his calves, now that the seams have been adjusted, chewing on her lower lip when she realises that an idea has struck and there is no way to tell if it is a good one or a bad one. Inserting the last pin at the cuff on his right leg, she inhales a deep breath and forces herself to remember why she is here.

"Do you have trouble getting your trousers on and off?" She blurts before she can regret it.

Viktor glares down at her, "Excuse me?"

She panics, "The ankles of your trousers will be much tighter when I finish the alterations, if you already struggle to get them on and off, it will be far more difficult now and- and I think I have something I can do to help. If that's okay?"

"I agreed to let you tailor my uniform." Viktor says firmly, "Nothing more."

Her pulse rushes, the words just keep coming, "I just want to help, I promise! My father lost an arm in a skirmish seven years ago and I started modifying his clothing for him, first just for appearances and then eventually for convenience, to make it easier for him to undress on his own." She explains, hoping that her reasoning will make more sense to him now, that he will understand that she isn't trying to mock him or pity him.

Viktor scowls, and it is not the reaction she was expecting, "A skirmish." He bites, his posture suddenly looming and sharp all over again, "Your father must be an enforcer, then."

She can hear the sound of her own heart beating in her ears, her throat turns dry as she peers up at him from the floor, trying to meet the roiling gold fury in his eyes. A familiar lie dances on the tip of her tongue, years of practice make it difficult to ignore, but because he isn't from here, because he doesn't offer candy-coated lies, maybe just because he is Viktor, she finds herself for once telling the truth.

"A skirmish with an enforcer." She corrects, and the words feel clunky and uncomfortable in her mouth.

For a beat they just stare at each other, Viktor eyes are suddenly wide and vulnerable, darting frantically across her face as if something in her appearance will make it all make sense. Her hands tremble where they are still gripping the fabric of his trousers and she can almost hear the echo of her heartbeat reverberating through the room. It's a weight off her shoulders, to have told someone, after years of lying and pretending. She isn't sure Viktor understands the significance of it, but she hopes he does.

Viktor's mouth opens and closes a few times, struggling to find his words. Eventually, he says, "Your father, he's…" the words from the undercity go unsaid, but the weight of them still hangs oppressive in there air, she feels like she might choke on them.

"Yes." She answers, averting her eyes, "Y-You can't tell anyone, you know what the people here are like, they'll eat me alive and I'm not-" not brave like you are, she thinks, but that feels far too bold, far too personal, "I just want to finish my studies in peace." Is what she says instead.

~~~

Peering down at her now, Viktor realises that everything begins to make sense. The way she cowers like a mouse as if the world itself is a cat out to get her, the way she desperately tries and fails to fit in, the fact that she dared to speak to him at all, even if it looks like she is preparing to bolt every time she does it.

"Have you even been to Zaun?" He asks, though it is more of a test than a question.

Her brow creases and he expects her to answer what's Zaun? but instead she just says, "No, at least not since I've been old enough to remember."

It was an easy test, but even still, Viktor hadn't really expected her to pass it, "We are not similar at all then, are we?"

She looks thoughtful, for a moment, chewing on her lower lip, "Not in present company, no." she inclines her head to the door, "Out there though, we might as well be neighbours. The line they draw it's-"

"Definitive." He finishes for her, "You are either on one side or the other, Pilties are not big fans of grey area. At least, not when it comes to Zaun."

The expression she offers him next is half a smile, half a wince, "Yeah, they aren't"

Viktor isn't sure how he is supposed to feel about her, part of him rushes upward from somewhere deep in his stomach, desperate to fall to his knees and plead for her to show him something, anything that reminds him of home, to let her shaking hands sink into his chest and hold his heart tightly between them. The other part, the intelligent part, the part he actually has control over, begs him to not break his composure. She isn't like him, not really. Her breath is even and clear, her lungs expand and recede in great, nervous gulps that his own would stutter and rattle the whole way through. Aside from her nervous disposition, unkempt hair and overall mousy appearance, there is nothing that truly others her from the other topsiders. That makes the third part of him, the loudest part, want to bare his teeth, to grab her by the throat and shake her for daring to share his heritage but nothing else, for having working lungs and working legs, for having anything to hide behind.

"Viktor?" She whispers quietly, her brows pinched together in what he can only interpret in concern.

He makes a choice then, a middle ground. Gripping tightly to the handle of his cane, he asks, "What kind of, help were you offering, exactly?"

She brightens just a little, he really only notices it in her eyes, the way they shine.

"I can alter the inseam of your trousers for you, so that you can undo them at the ankle." She jumps from her stool and moves quickly over to her worktable, digging quickly through an open sewing kit, "I have snap fasteners, they're easier to undo than buttons and I can very easily hide them in your inseam, no one would ever see them, but it should make things easier for you."

She steps back over to him, slowly and holds out a small metal tin. Inside Viktor can see a collection of small rings, various pieces that must combine together to make the fastener.

"Show me." Viktor finds himself responding, pushing the tin back towards her, "Where would they go?"

She blinks at him again, a nervous little smile tugging at her lips that makes him feel slightly better, "Y-Yes! Of course!" She crouches down and reaches out with a finger, running it gently up the inside of his right leg, stopping halfway up his calf. His skin prickles at the sensation, even through the fabric of his trousers, "So it would be from the cuff up to here, I'll loosen the seam on the outside of the leg to offer more space on the inside, unpick the inseam and add a series of snap fasteners the whole way up. They just snap shut, and all you should need to do to undo them is tug on either side of the fabric." She grabs the inside of his trousers, tugging quickly twice, "Just like that."

Even loose as they are, it has been a struggle to work his leg in and out the ankles of the trousers. Especially now that the weather has turned cold. He shifts his foot slightly, feeling how tight the tailoring will leave the garment and feels a familiar angry ache building in his gut, picturing himself struggling into his own clothes every morning. He peers down at her again, at her wide, expectant eyes. Her cheeks are flushed, with nerves or with something else, her poorly styled hair coming loose from it's up-do and strands of it are hanging loose around her face. Nothing in her expression is mocking, or pitying, if anything she looks hopeful.

"Would it…take much longer?" He asks.

Her smile is back in full force, the one that makes her mouth seem too big for her face, the achingly bright one, "Not at all! Maybe an extra hour at most."

Viktor darts his eyes to the clock on the wall, he would like to get some studying done today, "If I return before sunset, would it be finished?"

"Yes, yes! Absolutely it would." She lets out a laugh that sounds nearly exhilarated, "Thank you so much for trusting me, it means- well, I guess it means everything."

It might just have been so long since he has seen someone so passionate about what they do, but a smile tugs at the corner of Viktor mouth, unbidden, "Now, now. I never agreed, did I?"

Her mouth snaps shut, eyes widening.

He laughs and puts a stop to her fretting before it starts, "Don't worry, I was just teasing, you have my permission."

She laughs now, loudly, inelegantly. It's only halfway through her fit that she catches herself, hiding her mouth behind a hand, "Sorry. Sorry. I'm just so relieved." she takes a deep breath, holding a hand to her chest to calm down, "Thank you again, I mean it."

Viktor shrugs, "Eh, I did not really do anything."

She snorts then and Viktor finds himself enamoured by it, "You let me do some actual alterations for once, it's important to me at least." Then, as if remembering something, her eyebrows jump, "Oh! just a second." She darts back over to the sewing kit and returns with what Viktor recognises as a seam-ripper, "I'll quickly undo the inseam on your trousers now, that way it will be easier for you to take them off before you leave."

She returns to her stool, shuffling forward so she can more easily get her hands between his legs. Viktor turns his head to the side, finding the proximity easier to deal with if he doesn't have to actually look at her. He's already learned that she talks when she is nervous, so he isn't surprised when she starts speaking again, but oddly, he finds he doesn't mind it much at all.

"I started using the snap fasteners for my father, because they are much easier for him to do up and undo with only one arm. My mother used to help him with his clothes, and she didn't mind doing it, but his independence meant a lot to him and I wanted to help."

Curiosity gets the better of him and Viktor asks, "Did he tell you much about the undercity?"

"A lot, actually." He feels her moving to pick some stitches further up his leg, "I think he misses it, but he hasn't had much of a chance to go back. My mother works and I'm studying here, it just, makes it easier if we don't really talk about it."

Viktor feels himself bristle at that, the angry part of him that is always so loud rears its ugly head again, "Do you have no pride in your heritage?" he spits, and only half regrets it.

She laughs bitterly, inclining her head towards the door again, "Not nearly enough to make it worthwhile facing all of them "

Viktor scoffs, "You're a coward, then."

"I know" She replies quietly, "and you aren't."

Viktor is surprised how much he likes that assertion. He has heard from a few misguided, well meaning topsiders how brave he is for being here, but the meaning is different. How brave he must be, they say, to live the way he has for so long, how fucking brave he is to walk around with a limp and a cane, how hard his life must have been.

That is not what she is saying and he knows it. How brave you are, she says, to put up with all this Piltie, obfuscating, bullshit, day after day. How brave you are to not have already ripped their throats out with your teeth, to not have set this entire building on fire. That is what she thinks he is brave for and that feels good.

"All done." She says softly, unpicking the last stitch, "Just, um, just be careful not to tear it, or poke yourself with any of the pins." she gestures to a section of the room closed off by a curtain, "You can change in there and just leave the uniform with me on the way out."

~~~

She watches silently as Viktor walks to the changing room, grabbing his bag on the way and slinging it over his shoulder. Once he is out of sight, she takes a long, deep breath in through her nose and tries to calm her breathing. This could have gone better, but it could also have gone a lot worse. She sighs, peering shyly at the curtain Viktor is changing behind. One day she will be able to give something back, re-open her father's shop, do something that matters something more than frivolities, more than lace and silk.

Quietly, she starts tidying her leftover pins and returning them to her workbench. Then she removes the canvas cover from her sewing machine, it's much fancier than the one she has at home, not as loud as she works the pedal. She had gotten so used to the way her father's old machine would stick, how it would sometimes catch and tangle on loose threads. This newer thing, she keeps waiting for it to bite her, for it to realise she is different the same way her classmates did so quickly.

Her head snaps at the sound of the curtain being pulled back, and the sight of Viktor emerging in something other than his uniform. Whatever he is wearing clearly wasn't purchased in Piltover, it's mostly brown and green, with a few purple touches here and there. More importantly than any of that, other than the trousers being a few inches too short, it fits him perfectly. Her eyes dart to the narrow dip of his waist, the broad stretch of his shoulders. She had been right, he is captivating.

All she can do is watch as he steps back over to her, holding out the neatly folded pile of his uniform, "Just before sunset, yes?" he clarifies.

She swallows, taking the pile from him, "Y-Yes, that's right. I'll be here."

"Alright." Viktor leans down just a little, enough that his eyes meet hers, "Then I will see you later, Myšičko"

Her heart thunders behind her ribs and she clutches his uniform tightly to her chest, watching as he turns on his heel and heads back out the door, desperate to ask what he had just called her, but too shocked to get the words out.

The door clicks shut behind him and she hopes not just to see him later, but to see him again and again and again.

117 notes View Post

night-fall-moon

3 months ago

Idk why I haven’t seen this with Jayce but 😭😭 I need want a fic of him inspired by El Chico Del Apartamento 512 by Selena Quintanilla.

One: The song absolutely suits him, my god like he literally is el chico del apartamento 512… 😭

Two: I was thinking of having Caitlyn be his sister (cause let’s face it they’re so siblings coded, not even friends, siblings (coming from someone who actually has siblings, Viktor and Jayce are NAWT sibling coded at all… but that’s another discussion)

Three: The thought just came up because I was cleaning out my wattpad reads out and that one Sero fic (I read when I was younger) popped up I just chucked it in the bin (tween/teen me would be rioting if they saw what I did 😭) I then saw “The Man in Apartment 381” by lemonlover1110… and I was like if Toji has one, best believe I want to see a Jayce one ❤️‍🩹

Just me sharing my thoughts 😼 (I might actually make this but I can’t promise shit. Sorry y’all 🧍😞💔)

Also if anyone has seen anything like this please do link, my ass is thirsty for next door neighbor typa crushes 💔

please rb when u see this!

many palestinians have asked me to donate and share their gofundme links. most are still far from their goals so please donate if u can ♡

last updated 8/12/25

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12K notes View Post

night-fall-moon

5 months ago

Fucking hell this was worth wasting the time to read this instead of doing the pile of assignments calling my name. 😭😭💔

So I saw that your requests were open and just wanted to request a little something. Idk why this came to mind but could you make something angsty between hospital friend! Viktor x fem!reader. When they first meet it’s purely by coincidence and as they grow older they get closer, but reader’s health deteriorates more and more due to their diagnosis. By the time they both were going to confess it was too late. This can be set in a modern AU or not. Thank you!!

(God im such a whore for angst 😭😭)

oh man oh man oh man. How I love angst. But lowkey think I’m bad at writing it so I’m sorry if I did this dirty😭

Arcane Imagines- Viktor

Twisted Fate

So I Saw That Your Requests Were Open And Just Wanted To Request A Little Something. Idk Why This Came

[arcane] [main page]

prompt: in which fate is against you.

“Mom, please.” You roll your eyes, standing up from the hospital bed. “I just wanted to make sure!” She puts her hands up in defense as you just shake your head. “I can get up on my own.” You laugh, picking up your laptop, putting on slippers as you head out of the room.

“I’ll be in the lounge if the nurses look for me.” You tell her and she nods her head, already tidying up your bed since you left it. You sigh at the clean freak that is your mother, walking down the hallway of the large building. It’s currently 10 pm so you’re hoping nobody’s in the patient lounge so you can do your school work in peace. It’s your senior year of high school.

You turn the corner and into the comfortable warm colored lights that you say every room should have these types of lights instead of the bright annoying ones. You stop in your tracks though when you see a guy sitting there. He doesn’t pay any mind to you but you frown nonetheless. Wondering if you should head back to your room.

If you did you’d have to deal with your worry filled mother. In here you’d have one strange guy who’s your age and obviously doesn’t seem like he’s going to bother you.

You go sit down at the other side of the table that he’s already sitting at. Opening the lid of the laptop and getting started on your homework.

As the time slowly passes you catch yourself looking at the boy, he was handsome that was for sure. “For someone also in the hospital for a reason you sure stare like an outsider.” He finally speaks up, your breathing hitches. Not expecting him to call you out. His accent also caught you off guard. It was really pretty. “Sorry.” You quickly apologize.

“Is there something on my face?” He glances up to you with a raised eyebrow, putting down his rubix cube. “No, you just… remind me of someone.” You lie straight through your teeth.

“Are they hot?” He asks and you smile. “Ehh, not really.” You joke and he places a hand on his heart. “Wow, way to bruise a guy's ego as he’s already clearly down.” He motions to the building the two of you are in and you snicker.

“What kind do you have?” He inquires, you give him a confused expression. “Cancer, what kind?” He repeats and your mouth goes into an ‘o’ shape.

“Acute Leukemia.” You answer curtly, pressing your lips together for a moment. “You?” You close your laptop, seeming as you weren’t going to be able to pay attention now. “Same actually.” He puts his hand up and you both pretend to high five one another in the air. “Twins.” You chuckle.

“I’ve been sick since I was a child, so it’s only my luck that I get diagnosed with Cancer right before I turn 18.” You dramatically huff, leaning back in the chair. “Hah, we really are like medical twins. I had a really poor immune system as a kid. Diagnosed two years ago though. This is hopefully my last.” He crosses his fingers and then you do as well.

“I hope so as well.” You nod your head.

And as time passes the two of you grew close, almost inseparable. You two were the only ones who truly understood what the other was going through. Growing up sick as children, having worry warts of mothers. Then to get diagnosed with cancer, the same one might I add. You were grateful for each other.

You were glad you had someone to warn you about what’s to come, who won’t soften the details like the nurses and doctors. And he would come to the hospital whenever you had to go back. Visiting you until the hours were over. You did the same for him as well.

Your phone buzzes, you look at the screen hurriedly. It was the day that Viktor gets told if he’s cancer free or not. Today is important. You immediately answer, smashing the ear to your phone. “So!??” You pace back and forth in your bedroom. Antsy and impatient.

“I uh…am…” He sounds sad and your heart drops. “Cancer freee!!” He excitedly says into the phone and you squeal out. “Yes!!! Congratulations!!!” You scream, laughing loudly. Your mom runs to the bedroom. “It’s gone?” She questions with wide eyes and a curious expression. You nod your head and she cheers, pulling you into a hug. Taking the phone from your hand. “That’s amazing, sweetheart! I’m so so so happy for you!” She tells your best friend and you scrunch your nose, smiling at her.

Your mom and his had gotten close over the past 9 months since you had befriended Viktor. Now the two might be as close as their kids are. “I need to call your mom. We so need to celebrate this.” Your mom says and you over hear Viktor laugh, agreeing with the woman. She hands the phone back to you.

“Sorry, she snatched my phone from me like I was some peasant.” You sit on your bed. “Well, it’s not like a peasant if you are one.” He tells you and your jaw drops. “Rude! I’m telling your mom when we go out to Hibachi grill later.” You threaten causing him to let out a snort of a laugh.

“Hibachi grill?” He asks and you can already see the face he’s making. “Your favorite, of course we’ll be going there.” You scoff, he says a small “true.”

“I have to go, you were the first call I made. My mom’s forcing me to call my whole family now. “ He groans. “Cancer free but at what cost.” He whines out, you chuckle. “I feel special, see you later.” You say with a smile. “See you.” He hangs up the phone and you stand up, going out to the kitchen.

“Alright, Hibachi grill at 7, I’ll make a little reservation now.” You hear your mom speak and you bite the inside of your cheeks trying not to laugh. You called it. You knew them too well by now. You open the fridge, pulling out a water. You pinch the cap between your pointer and thumb, attempting to unscrew it but your hand feels too fragile.

You frown, glaring at the white plastic. Trying it again. Your body was weakening from the first round of chemotherapy. You begged them to wait until after you graduated and now that you had, they set the appointment up and here you are. You squeeze your eyes shut, throwing the bottle to the ground. “I have to go, I’ll see you at the restaurant.” You hear your mom say in the other room. Her feet heading your way. You look up at her.

She sees the bottle that’s still rolling across the kitchen. “What happened?” She asked and you shrug your shoulders, going over and grabbing the stupid water filled plastic. “Can you open this?” You hand it over to her. “Of course.” She gets it with ease, your jaw tightens at the sight. Wanting to punch something.

“So Hibachi at 7?” You change the energy of the room to something lighter, not wanting to hear the whole spiel of getting weaker and how it’s okay to ask for help. “Yeah, but do you need to cancel? I’m sure they’d understand.” She places a hand on your shoulder and you wiggle away. “No, mom. We’re going to celebrate my friend for being cancer free.” You spit out, walking back into your room. Upset that she would even offer that to you.

It had been a year since Viktor was told his good news and now you’re walking into the hospital together for his appointment to check if that’s still the case with his body. You were bundled in a beanie, scarf and a large puffy jacket. It’s only 40 degrees outside but it was freezing to you.

Viktor’s mom was supposed to be there but he told you she got caught up with something at work. You questioned it because his mom would never miss something like this. He shrugged his shoulders at your words.

Secretly he had pleaded with his mom to just go to work so that you’d go with him instead. She knew how he felt towards you so it didn’t end up being a huge fight. Except she didn’t go to work. She stayed home due to her nerves being amped up. Not knowing if her son was going to have cancer again or not.

The two of you are taken into a room to get the news. He had done all the blood work a few weeks ago. He didn’t want to find out over the phone so here you two are.

He sits on top of a medical exam bed as you sit in a chair, shivering from still being cold. “You okay?” He asks you and you wave it off. “I’m fine, Vik.” You smile, your teeth chattering as you do so causing him to snicker. “Here.” He takes off his jacket, putting it on your lap. “Extra layer.” He says and you quietly thank him.

The doctor walks in with a clipboard. “Heyy, Viktor. Long time no see. And you [Name]. Good to see you.” He grins at the both of you and you force a polite smile in return. “You too.” You puff out, holding yourself tightly.

“So, Viktor. You are still cancer free. No signs of any abnormalities.” He tells Viktor who lets out a breath he didn’t even realize he was holding and you clap your hands excitedly. “I only need one last test from you and then you are good to go. And hopefully I will never see you again unless it’s with [name] for the time being.” He motions over to you and you giggle. Every one of the staff knows the two of you are attached at the hip. If one’s there it’s most likely the other one is as well. “Okay.” Viktor stands up, leaving you alone in the room after they walk out.

You sit there, leaning your head back tiredly. Using the hood of the coat as a pillow. You then feel something warm cover you, you shoot your head up, confused. “Sorry, Viktor told us you were cold.” The nurse awkwardly tells you and you thank her.

The room grows silent once again and you smile, snuggling into the heated up blanket. Grateful for your best friend. Your chest tightens at the thought of him. You were growing feelings for the boy as you spent every day with him.

And two years later you’re standing there with your mom, Viktor and his mom ringing the cancer free bell. Weakly smiling as Nurses surround you, cheering. Viktor pulls you into his side and you grin up at him. “Now we’re both cancerless!” He squeezes you and you snicker. “Woo!” You rasp out. You currently had a cold so you weren’t all the way there but still excited nonetheless. Your tireless fight is now over.

“Chinese food tonight!” Your mom joins the hug, Viktor’s mom following along. “Yay!” You beam.

It didn’t last long though. You got a call about a month later from the doctor. “[Name] [Last Name]?” The lady over the phone asks and you smile. “That’s me!” You say as you were cleaning up in the kitchen. Viktor was currently in the living room with your mom. Getting ready to leave.

“I have some unfortunate news regarding your x-ray results. We have your appointment already set up on Friday for your physical if you want to hear it then unless you’d like to hear it now over the phone.” She speaks and your heart drops, palpitating a few times at her words. “I’d like to hear it now.” Your voice breaks.

You leaned over the counter using it as support. “Um,” She was hesitant to tell you the news.

“You have a malignant tumor in your brain, cancerous, it has spread to a point where you’d need surgery and treatment as soon as possible.” She informs you and your shoulders tense up. “The percentage of me living through this?” You quiet your voice as you ask, not wanting to alarm your mother or best friend in the other room.

“10 percent.” She breathes out and you bite your bottom lip. “How long if I don’t get the treatment?” You vaguely ask but she immediately understands what you’re asking.

“6 months with treatment and it failing, 3 months without it all together.” She answers your question and a tear slips down your cheek. “I’m not doing it.” You say sternly. “There’s a chance you’d live a long life if you get the surgery-”

“I will go to my appointment this Friday to speak with my doctor. Have a good night.” You cut her off, hanging up the phone. You hunch over the sink, taking in the information you were just told.

You’re not going through it again. You’re not making your body suffer more than it has to for only 10 percent. 10 percent!?

“[Name], I’m heading out now.” A voice speaks behind you and you lift yourself up, forcing a smile. “Okay! Text me when you get home. Love you.” You give him a short hug, knowing if it was a longer embrace you’d break down in his arms.

“Love you too.” He says, leaving the house. Once his car is out of your driveway you collapse to the ground, letting out a loud sob.

“[Name]!? [Name], what happened!?” Your mom falls beside you, pulling you into her arms. “Three months!” You wail, hiding your face in her neck. “I have three!” Your body shakes and she shushes you, not understanding what you’re talking about.

“Honey, breathe. Breathe.” She pets your hair and you hyperventilate harder, not able to calm down.

“I- I got a call! From the office!” You shout out, having no other way to get it out due to struggling to breathe.

She pulls away from you with scared eyes, staring at your face. “[Name], what are you saying?” She questions, gripping your arms. You breathe in through your nose, soothing yourself before speaking.

“Malignant tumor in my brain. Only ten percent chance with the surgery and therapy. 3 months to live without it, 6 months if it doesn’t work but still do it.” You explain and tears build in your mothers eyes. You squeeze your eyes shut, you think this has to be a dream. There’s no way this is real.

“You’re getting the surgery right?” She asks automatically and you put your head down in shame.

“Right, [Name]!? You’re getting the surgery, right?” She cries out and tears spill down your face as you don’t answer her. “You just got the news, you can change your mind. It’s okay!” She talks, mainly to herself.

She stands up, not knowing what to do with herself. “Don’t… tell anyone. Please.” You look up at her from the ground. She avoids eye contact with you but nods her head.

On Friday your mom is gripping onto your hand, tears already threatening to fall from her eyes as you sit straight up. Your Doctor doing two knocks before entering. “[Name].” He solemnly nods his head, you do the same in return. “What would you like to go forward with?” He gets straight to the point and you glance over to your mom. She breaks down, looking away from you but not letting you go.

“I’m not doing the surgery.” You tell him, heart thumping loudly in your chest. His face seems to flicker a sad expression before he takes a loud breath. “Alright, let’s talk about that decision then.” He begins.

You sit with Viktor, staring at him from across the booth. Taking in all of his features with a small smile. Appreciating his presence. “What?” He chuckles and you shrug your shoulders.

“You just have an interesting looking face.” You say simply and he cocks his head to the side. “What a compliment.” He rolls his eyes playfully and you grin.

“So, what’d the doctors say about this little sickness you have?” He points to your figure that’s very clearly ill. “Just my body having a weird effect from the medicines I’m still taking.” You lie.

You hadn’t told him of the death sentence you had received. Or the cancer in your brain. You didn’t want anyone beside your mother to know. She told Viktor’s mom who promised not to tell him. You swore to do it before the third month.

It’s already been one, the two of you still hanging out frequently, almost everyday. “Ah, so weird. You’re so prone to weird diseases.” He takes a bite of his food and you let out a dry laugh. If only he knew.

You wanted to tell him how you felt before you were gone. Get it out. It’s been forever of yearning for him. The least you could get is a confession out. Maybe even a kiss from the man you’ve loved for over three years.

Every single time you go to do it, something stops you. An interruption. Fate screaming at you not to do it.

And in the second month, you were now in and out of the hospital, growing too weak to where Viktor couldn’t not notice something was truly up that you weren’t telling him. Even his mother seemed secretive.

He didn’t like this.

You lay in the hospital bed, eyes closed as you rest. Your mom watches your breathing as she sits on the couch in the corner of the room. “Viktor will be here in ten minutes.” She tells you and you hum out.

“Good, I have something to tell him.” You smile softly. You were going to confess. You knew you weren’t going to make it through the week.

Viktor presses the button of the elevator, waiting in silence as it goes up to your floor. Holding flowers and your favorite chocolate. He was going to confess.

The elevator doors open and he steps out, he limps a little more than usual, not having his cane with him. He was trying to walk without it in front of you. Show he’s getting stronger like he’s been saying. He heads to your room 143-V.

As he gets closer, suddenly nurses and doctors are rushing into your room, he furrowed his eyebrows, picking up his pace to the best of his abilities. “What’s happening!?” He shouts, asking one of the nurses in passing. “I don’t know.” She sadly responds in a panic as she follows after the nurses.

He hears your moms voice, screaming.

“No! No, no no! She was supposed to have another month!” She pleaded, getting pushed out of the room. Viktor grabs onto her.

“What’s happening!?” He asks, repeating the same question he asked before. “Oh, Viktor.” She cries, pulling him into a hug, crushing the flowers that he held.

“Wha- what’s going on?” He shakily questions. “She never told you.” She curses you, frowning at the stupid choice that you made.

A nurse comes out to say they’re working with you, leading them to a private waiting room. The two sit down and your mom explains everything.

Viktor sat there, stunned. Not believing this. Not believing that you wouldn’t tell him this.

An hour passes and a nurse comes into the room. She looks like she’s trying to hide the fact that she’s about to cry. Her chin quivering. She’s been your nurse since the beginning. Since you first got diagnosed.

“I’m sorry.” Her head bows and your mother screams out a cry. Viktor’s ears ring. His vision was blurred.

“You can see her.” She says and your mom goes out but he stays planted in the spot. Not able to move. Not able to register what’s happening. You two were just planning to watch a movie together. To hang out and try this dessert you’ve never had.

The door creaks open and your mom is standing, her face stained with tears. “Go see her before you can’t.” She tells Viktor who nods, getting up from his seat. Shuffling his feet underneath him. Clutching onto the stupid flowers. And the stupid chocolate. He enters your room. Throwing the stuff at your feet.

“How could you!?” He shouts angrily.

“How could you do this to me!? How could you leave me!?” He falls down to the side of your bed, grabbing onto your lifeless body. His own body finally letting him cry.

“I was going to confess my love for you! And you die?! What the fuck!?” His voice breaks with every word, it was high pitched and hurting.

The nurses that pass by, lowering their heads. Everyone that knew you in the hospital was heartbroken. They truly didn’t think this was going to happen to you. You were good.

“And you don’t tell me you were dying? I should’ve known something was up, you were so sick! I’m such a terrible friend! I fucking suck, you… You fucking suck.” He bawls, punching the bed repeatedly.

Your mom goes to him, pulling him into a hug and he clings onto her immediately. “I’m sorry!” He says. “I’m sorry!” He weeps and she shushes him. “It’s okay, it’s okay I promise.” She cries with him.

Such a twisted, sick fate life had gifted upon you.

307 notes View Post

night-fall-moon

6 months ago

Reblogging again. I forgot what I was going to say. I’ll reboot again once I remember :))

My Atlantis, We Fall | Finale

Part 1. Part 2.

Summary: A childhood friendship between Viktor and you grow into unspoken love, but your paths diverge when Viktor left you behind. Still heartbroken, you unexpectedly reunite during Progress Day after years, only to cause more heartbreak.

Pairing: Viktor Arcane X Female Reader, she/her pronouns

Warnings: ANGST, death, made up last name for Viktor, no mentions of Y/N.

Words: 6.3k

A/N: I really hope you like how this ended as much as I did! And thank you so much for 1k followers! I went from 600 to 1.1k in a span of 3 days 😭 Y'all are crazy for the viktorussyyy

The rain fell in relentlessly. Each droplet is a cold mnemonic of the rage and fear in your heart after what you just saw. The same droplets pressed Viktor's hair against his forehead and ran down his hollow cheeks like tears he was unable to shed. It was enough to sober him up.

You strode down the cobblestone street, footsteps splashing into shallow puddles of water. Viktor's irregular steps resonated behind you, his walking stick struggled to grip the slippery surface. He looked utterly lost. Vulnerable. A man stripped of his intellect. It reflected the agitation within him, but he didn't care if he'd stumble to the ground again and let the pavement scratch his skin just to catch you. Not right now. “Would you please stop walking away and talk to me?!” The loudness of his voice broke through the roaring storm, piercing its way through the wind to envelop you.

You froze mid-step, shoulders tensing as if his words had hit you physically. His words worsened the anger inside you. You kept on moving, the rain blurring your vision.

“Please!” he called again, and this time, the pain in his voice drew you back, completely halting you in your tracks. You turned sharply, water splashing from your drenched clothing, it mirrored the landslide of emotions breaking free from inside of you. Your chest heaved with each breath; tears mixed with the rain as you locked onto Viktor's gaze. His eyes were filled with desperation, glowing like orange lanterns in the middle of this storm. “Me?!” You sneered, a sense of bitterness lingering in the atmosphere. “You’re seriously the one talking about walking away? About communication?! Do you even hear yourself, Viktor?!” You stepped closer to his face, voice rising. You could see each detail of his face now; their beauty remains evident even amid all the gloom, but you didn't let them distract you. “Did you forget what you did? Or have you just convinced yourself they didn't matter?” Viktor flinched, as if each word was an arrow pointed straight to his heart. He opened his mouth, only to close it again, shame smothering him in the silence.

“I remember,” he said after the pause, his tone careful. “I remember everything. I remember them every single day.” You laughed, “Oh, do you? Then you must recall leaving without so much as a word. Treating me like I was a puzzle to solve only to discard me as soon as I didn’t align with your bigger plan!” Your voice cracked, the hurt threatening to overflow like the rain around you. “Like I was disposable...” His breath hitched, shaking his head in disagreement with what you had said. His grip on his cane tightening until his knuckles turned white. “You were never disposable—”

"Then why did you make me feel like so?" You cut him off.

Viktor paused, taking a small time to take in the look in your face caused by his actions. “I just... I thought… I thought I was doing the right thing. That if I let you go, I could—” He halted, words choking him. “I thought it would protect you. That you would be safer. Happier without me.” “Protect me?” you mocked, almost closing the distance. “You hurt me, Viktor! You didn’t protect me! You shattered me!”

You thought his response was completely ridiculous. But did you genuinely believe that thought? It was clear that your anger is distorting your perspective again. Still, you have every right to feel that way. His face crumpled as your words struck home, his free hand reaching for you but stopping, trembling. “I know,” he said hoarsely. “I know what I did to you. There’s no excuse, no justification that could ever make it right. But please… please let me try to explain.”

"Just go easy on him, alright? He’s not great at these things." Jayce's words echoed in your thoughts, bringing back the image of Viktor coughing and bleeding. You never wanted to imagine it again. It felt as though it was your own care and affection for Viktor reaching out to you, urging you to truly listen to him. That beneath the anger, your love for him that had never fully disappeared was talking to you.

“Go ahead, then. Explain. Tell me why it was okay to tear my heart apart and just let me live with it.” You crossed your arms tightly over your chest, feeling a chill that were more from the sight of him rather than from the cold air.

He took a cautious step forward, but this time you didn't pull back. You’re closer to him than ever before that you can smell his musky scent, so close that you can nearly tune into his thoughts and feel the rhythm of his heartbeat. His eyes filled with vulnerability, and deep inside you can feel them pinching your heart.

“I was a fool,” he began, briefly looking down before focusing on your gaze once more. “I- I told myself I was being selfless, letting you go for your sake. But the truth is, I was terrified of what you made me feel. As we grew older, it also grew more seriously inside me. That scared me. I was scared that those emotions would derail me from dreams. Dreams that I would sacrifice my life for. And I was a coward for that."

His words were like a glimpse of hope in your confusion. You could sense how heavy they were and almost feel his struggle. But then, Viktor paused, remembering another mistake he had made.

“What you saw up there… with Sky... I am so sorry. I was drunk. No, I am drunk.” Viktor chuckled and scratched his head, feeling embarrassed as he recalled his recent actions. “I thought I saw you. I thought it was you kissing me.” He took a deep, shaky breath. “But it wasn’t you. It was her. It was a mistake, a horrible mistake, and it hurts me to know that I let myself forget you for even a moment. I never wanted to hurt you. I never wanted anyone else, not after what we shared. I was trying to make myself feel something, anything, other than the pain of losing you. But all I did was make everything worse.”

This hit you deeply, making your chest feel tight, but it wasn’t enough. You still had barriers up, barriers that Viktor's words had not yet broken through.

As his words lingered in the air, your emotions swirled. You're still hurt, but you were validated. You couldn't put it into words, but the next words that came out of Viktor's mouth were both surprising and somehow anticipated.

He hesitated, eyes filled with everything he had kept inside. “I have struggled... in vain,” he began, “I’ve fought against this... against you. But I can bear it no longer..."

Countless thoughts raced through your mind as you tried to predict Viktor's next words while allowing him to keep speaking.

"The past years have been nothing but torment. I thought I was doing the right thing. I only intended to protect you.” His voice faltered as he took a step closer, as if you two weren't already close enough. His gaze softened, searching yours. “But I was wrong.”

Viktor cupped your face gently, his hands fitting the curves of your skin as if they were meant to be there, as if the Gods made them to touch you in this way. Every delicate contour of your facial structure seemed to align perfectly with each line of his palms, like another way of promising you his love if not through words.

His hands remained steady against your skin to which you subconsciously leaned onto, eyes fluttering closed as you exhaled softly. "Viktor, please..."

His touch soothed the storm inside you. So intimate, so real.

You waited for him to speak again, breath caught in your chest.

Viktor swallowed hard as the words finally came out, tears gathering around his eyes. “Please, end my agony... I... I love you.”

Those three words struck you like a speeding bullet train, each one ringing in your chest. They were impossible to ignore. His touch, his words—they were enough to lift the burden you carried for years.

But even with that weight gone, there was still something else lingering deep inside you.

Doubt.

The kind of doubt that was seeded long ago, as though it was permanent. The kind that couldn’t be erased with just three words, no matter how heartfelt they are.

You smiled, but it wasn’t the smile Viktor hoped for. It wasn’t the soft, tender response he had imagined after pouring his heart out to you.

No, it was something else. It was a smile that spoke more of deflection. The kind of smile that said, 'nice try'. The kind that concealed the sensitivity still flowing within you, and beneath that, a hint of doubt.

"If you really love me then you shouldn't have left me."

୭ ˚.⁺⊹ .ᐟ

The weeks that followed were unfriendly to Viktor, as if the universe had conspired to reflect the torture he felt inside.

He buried himself in his research, and the lab became more of a prison than a shelter. The spark of his amber eyes has now been replaced by a hollow stare of sleepless nights.

The edges of his frame were frail. His already lean figure was exposed, with skin appearing even more pale. Dark circles etched themselves under his eyes and bruises of his own making from the nights he spent pouring every inch of his body into the study instead of rest.

His lips, once soft and quick to curl upward into a smile, are now chapped and pushed into a line. Clothes hung loosely over him, and the fabric of his coat looked heavier than the man wearing it. As he coughed, a deep, ragged sound would scrape off of his lungs, with random nose bleeds occurring here and there—Jayce noticing even more crimson specks smearing his handkerchief.

Still, Viktor dismissed everyone.

He denied recognizing the physical impact his work had on him and dismissed the worries with a feigned nonchalance. Now, his focus was singular: perfecting his research and proving that his sacrifice was not in vain.

But his hands trembled day by day, and the tension of lifting his tools became almost impossible. The recognizable sound of his cane hitting the floor now stands as a touching reminder of his deteriorating health.

୭ ˚.⁺⊹ .ᐟ

For several weeks, the rain kept pouring. It seemed like the weather understood your and Viktor's feelings.

You were savoring a warm cup of tea when gentle knocks vibrated at your door.

You hesitated before answering. Upon opening it, Sky stood there, drenched and shivering. Her eyes red as though she had been crying.

You gripped the doorframe, eyes rolling and your jaw clenching. “What do you want?” you asked coldly, the sight of her bringing back memories that you're still trying to forget.

Sky fidgeted, fingers twisting together nervously. “Look, I know I’m the last person you want to see right now,” she began, her voice barely audible over the rain. “But I need to talk to you. Please. It’s about Viktor.”

Just hearing his name triggered an unwelcome pain that cut through the walls of your living room. You moved to close the door, unwilling to entertain whatever she had to say, but her hand shot out, gripping it with strength that caught you off guard.

"Excuse me?" You scoffed.

She cried out, “Please, just hear me out. I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t important.”

Ugh.

With hesitation, you moved aside and nodded you head toward the living room for her to enter, your arms crossed as you observed her walk into your house. Her wet clothes left a trail of water on the floor, but she seemed oblivious, her focus entirely on you. She looked smaller than you remembered, her confidence was replaced by an almost childlike vulnerability.

“I’m really sorry,” she said, adjusting her glasses. “For everything. For the kiss… for the way I acted. I didn’t mean for any of it to happen.”

For the second time today, you rolled your eyes, lips curled into a bitter smile. “Is that why you’re here? To apologize? I've been trying to erase that from my memory, so if you're just here to remind me about it then please, feel free to leave.”

Sky shook her head no, hands clenching into fists at her sides. “No. I- I’m not here to make excuses. I know what I did was wrong, and I know how much it hurt you. But you need to know the truth.” She took a shaky breath, her eyes meeting yours with a sincerity that was almost uncomfortable. “I’ve liked Viktor for as long as I can remember. For years, I thought… I thought maybe he could feel the same way about me because we're always together. But that night… that kiss… I know he wasn’t thinking of me.” Her voice broke and she looked away, cheeks flushing with shame. “He was thinking of you."

Yeah, I know.

Her words lingered, combining affirmation and hurt. “Is that why you’re here?” you asked, your tone sharp. “To tell me that Viktor loves me? I- How do you even know me?”

Sky’s eyes filled with tears, her composure finally breaking.

“No,” she whispered. “I’m here because Viktor is dying.”

Viktor is dying.

The words played over and over in your mind. They are louder each time, drowning out everything else. The idea of losing him permanently this time made your stomach twist painfully. Tears threatened to spill, but you fought hard to blink them away.

Viktor’s “I love you," from a few weeks ago came back to your senses. They were never quite enough to erase all the anger, pain, and doubt he had left behind. Those three words were supposed to heal, but they didn’t; they couldn’t. They weren’t strong enough to undo the hurt.

But now, this another set of three words hit you harder than you thought possible. They weren’t warm or hopeful. They didn’t carry promises of love or second chances.

Yet somehow, they did what his “I love you” couldn’t.

Those three words, so opposite in meaning, tore through every bitter thought and resentment you held.

All they left behind was the truth that none of the hurt mattered anymore.

None.

You couldn’t lose him. Not now. Not like this.

Sky's words stole the air from your lungs. “W- what?” you managed to choke out.

Sky took a step closer, seemingly wanting to offer you some comfort. “He’s in the hospital. Jayce took him there after he collapsed. He… he’s not doing well.”

You wanted to say something, anything, but your thoughts were in a tangle of mess. Words failed you as you reached for your coat, the overwhelming need to get to Viktor as soon as possible overriding everything else.

You were halfway to the door, hand trembling on the handle, when Sky’s voice broke through your chaotic blur. “Wait… before I forget,” she said, the tone almost nervous.

You turned to face her, your impatience barely masked. Sky fumbled through her bag, pulling out a small blue leather-bound notebook. Its edges scuffed, and its cover worn with age. Her hands were shaking as she extended it toward you.

“This is his,” Sky spoke gently, her voice shaking in a way that reflected the quiver of her hands. “When Viktor left it on his table, I… I opened it. It was a few years ago. I wasn’t trying to invade his privacy. I was just looking for research notes, trying to understand what he was working on. But I found this instead.”

You paused, gazing at the notebook as if it were delicate. "What’s this?" you inquired, voice softer than you meant it to be. Your brows knitted together in confusion, questioning why she felt it was so important to hand this to you right now when every second counted.

We don't have time for this.

Sky looked down, as if she couldn’t bear to meet your eyes. Her fingers lingered on the edge of the notebook before letting it go, pressing it into your hands. “It’s… it’s about you,” she admitted. “You asked me how I know about you, right? This is why. Just… just read it when you can. You’ll understand.”

For a moment, the room was silent except for the muffled rain against your windows. You looked down at the notebook in your hands, its weight suddenly heavier than it had any right to be. Brushing the worn edges, your mind buzzed with questions you didn’t have the time or courage to ask.

What could possibly be in here that Sky believed you needed to see?

But there wasn’t any time to dwell on it now. The fear in your chest wouldn’t let you linger in here any longer.

Viktor's dying, and every second wasted felt like a step closer to losing him.

You clutched the notebook tightly before leaving it on your coffee table, a strange feeling of hope in your gut.

Whatever it contained, it could wait.

Right now, there was only one thing that mattered. You had to get to him.

The journey to the hospital seemed to stretch endlessly, with each second feeling longer than the one before. What should have been a simple fifteen-minute ride felt like it took forever. It was as if the outside world had faded away, leaving only the chaos in your head.

Your eyes were fixed on nothing, your focus lost while the unrelenting motion of the Piltover transport only made your anxiety worse. A heavy dread weighed on you, as if something terrible was already unfolding and you were already too late.

At last, the vehicle stopped.

As soon as it did, you bolted out the door, the cold air hitting you. Frantically, you paced toward the hospital entrance, feet struggling to keep up with the other. Your chest felt drawn in and every breath was a challenge.

You could feel your heart racing painfully in your throat, in your ears, and in your head. Each pound threatening to choke you. Your legs were worn out from running, yet you couldn’t stop. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, but you swallowed them down, forcing them back. Not now. Not yet.

Viktor needed you, and you had to be strong, even if every part of you wanted to crumble. The hospital doors loomed ahead, the sterile smell of it filling your nose. With each step, the uncertainty bore down on you more severely, causing your legs to shake as you neared the reception.

Please, don’t be too late. Please, don’t be too late. Please, don’t be too late.

The thought circled in your mind like a chant, you could've sworn you were going insane.

You found the room—his room.

Your heartbeat so loudly in your chest you could barely hear your own footsteps, but the sight in front of you stole the breath from your lungs. The door to his room swung open with a force you didn’t even realize you had, the sharp sound of it startling the nurses who clustered around Viktor’s bed.

Their heads snapped toward you in a synchronized motion, as though your entrance was both expected and unwelcome.

They didn’t even try to move out of your way. You didn’t know if they were trying to shield you from the sight of him or if it was a sudden reflex to prevent you from seeing what you already feared.

Your feet felt frozen to the ground as you stood there. You couldn’t even take in the full picture of Viktor. His form pale and still under the lights of the hospital room.

The doctor was speaking in a hurried tone, but none of their words seemed to make it past the pounding in your ears. Your mind refused to process anything but the cold, harsh truth that was unfolding before you.

One of the doctors glanced at his watch, his voice steady yet emotionless.

“Viktor Vikhnovich, time of death 4:12 PM.”

The words struck you like a hard punch. It felt as though time stood still. You choked on your breath as you looked at the man who meant everything to you—someone who had been just out of reach.

Dead.

The word echoed in your head, but it felt wrong. No, it has to be a joke.

You wanted to scream, to demand they are mistaken, to rush forward and shake him awake. But your legs refused to move. Your vision blurred, body numb with the shock that hit you like a bullet to the chest.

The doctors moved around you, but you could barely comprehend their actions. You didn’t know if they were trying to offer condolences or explanations. None of it mattered.

All you could see was Viktor lying motionless, as though life had been drained from him just when he needed it the most. It took everything in you not to collapse right there in the doorway.

You walked closer to his laying body; he felt close yet so far. He isn't here anymore.

“No, no, no, no, no,” the words spilled from your lips, your voice trembling and raw as you stumbled forward. You pushed through the heavy air in the room, ignoring the doctors who tried to steady you or pull you back.

You couldn’t hear them. You couldn’t see anything except him.

You reached Viktor’s side, your knees giving out as you collapsed by his bed. “No,” you whispered again, this time softer, as though speaking directly to his now peaceful soul. Your hands hovered over his cheeks, shaking, afraid to touch him and confirm what your heart refused to believe.

His skin was colorless, chest still, and the nasal cannula lay idle. The silence of his lifelessness was more deafening than your cries.

Tears streamed down your face, blurring your vision as you clutched his hand in yours. It was cold, far too cold. Far from the warmth of the pair of hands that heated your cheeks in the middle of the storm just a few weeks ago.

“Viktor, please,” you sobbed, voice breaking with each syllable. “N-no, don’t do this. Don’t leave me. I'm s-sorry.”

The sense of finality rang in your ears.

His face appeared serene, which only boosted your pain.

You couldn’t reconcile this quiet, unresponsive Viktor with the man you knew. The one who argued passionately about science, who lit up at the spark of an idea, the man you've always had an unspoken love with.

You pressed a chaste kiss on his forehead, your tears soaking the lifeless skin of his face.

“This is- this is all my fault…” you choked out. “Viktor, you can’t—” Your voice cracked, unable to finish the sentence, because finishing it meant acknowledging the truth, and you weren’t ready for that.

Your fingers brushed over his cheek and his moles, memorizing every line and angle for the last time.

The world felt wrong. It was too quiet, too still without him in it.

Sure, he hadn’t been a part of your life since the day he walked away, but this was different.

This was final.

The faint hope you’d always held, the possibility of crossing paths again, of hearing his voice, of sharing even one swift moment, was now extinguished.

He was gone, permanently this time.

There would be no second chances, no reconciliation, no more time to bridge the gap that had grown between you.

The doctors and nurses exchanged looks, their expressions a mix of pity and discomfort. Someone murmured something about giving you time, and the sound of footsteps walking away barely registered in your mind.

"Viktor... I love you, too..."

The door clicked shut, leaving you alone with him.

Alone in your grief, your despair.

Alone with the reality that Viktor was gone.

୭ ˚.⁺⊹ .ᐟ

Six months had passed since Viktor's passing and grief still lingered in every corner of your heart.

It had a way of reshaping your life without your permission. The past few months weren’t about healing, but more about surviving. You woke up every day feeling like a piece of you had been carved out, like there was a void that you carried everywhere you go.

Life continued on even as you grieve, but moving ahead just felt wrong.

It felt wrong to move on from Viktor because of the realization that there weren't many people left to mourn him. It was just you, Jayce, and Sky. However, in time, the three of you will also be gone. And despite all the blood, sweat, and tears Viktor put in, his dreams of leaving a lasting legacy in this world is now impossible to come to fruition.

You didn’t cry every day. Sometimes, it was worse: just complete numbness. The kind where nothing felt real or important anymore.

You ignored his name when it came up in conversations, avoided the places that held his memory, but the pain never failed to find you in the smallest things—a faint scent from the past or the quiet moments before sleep when there was nothing to worry you about having to forgive him.

And yet, you didn’t let it break you. Instead, you kept going. Because you know Viktor would've wanted you to.

Now, as you clean and reorganize your home, you found yourself surrounded by half-packed boxes. The sounds of tape peeling and cardboard shifting kept you distracted from your thoughts, until your hand grazed something tucked into the corner of an old shelf.

A small box, with the letter V written across its lid in faded blue ink.

Your brows knit together. The curiosity that drew you toward the box wasn’t out of curiosity but rather out of realization. You knew exactly what it was. It was Viktor’s. Or rather, a box of things that belonged to him. Things of him from Zaun that you kept. The appearance of it awoken a strong feeling, not only sorrow but also guilt.

"Forgot I still have these." You chuckled, fingers running across the surface of it.

The notebook Sky had given you moments before Viktor's passing had been left untouched. Unread. Seeing it again felt like reopening your own wounds, wounds that were filled with the regret of not having forgiven him when you still had the time to.

You hesitated before lifting the lid, the smell of old paper and dust wafting into your face. Your heart skipped a beat as your gaze fell upon Viktor's notebook, sitting neatly atop a pile of random trinkets and scrap toys you made when you were a kid. But it wasn’t the notebook that stole your breath.

Nestled beneath it was a small, rusted toy boat, blemished by years of being kept away. Your fingers shook lightly as you picked it up, the memories it held flooding your mind like the stream where you used to play with this toy boat.

The boat.

The boat that had drifted too far downstream, leading you to Singed's lab. The boat that had set him on a path to greatness, to dreams so grand that they left no room for the simplicity of your childhood friendship. The boat that had left you behind. The boat that changed everything.

A smile tugged at your lips as you cradled the delicate toy in your hands. Viktor had no idea you kept it all these years. Not when he was consumed by ambition, not when you did the same but with the anger for him for leaving, and certainly not in the moments when you questioned if he even remembered you.

It was lightweight, but it carried the heaviness of nostalgia at the same time.

As you held it, images of your childhood played in your mind like a bittersweet reel. The laughter by the stream, the scent of Zaun's polluted air you never imagined you'd somehow miss, and the way Viktor’s eyes lit up with excitement as you launched the boat for the first time.

"I'll get it!"

"Come onnn, you’ll never catch it," Viktor called out, his voice teasing with worry after you dove into the shallow water to catch the boat. He stood on the bank, leaning lightly on his cane, his frame silhouetted against the golden afternoon light.

Your laughter bubbled up, louder than the gurgle of the stream. "Oh, watch me!"

Viktor shook his head, his lips twitching into a crooked smile. “You’ll be swept away before you even touch it,” he warned.

He stepped closer to the edge as if he could will you back to safety. He would’ve waded in himself if his leg allowed it. You knew that. He always hated being on the sidelines, watching while others took the risks he couldn’t.

“Vik, I’m fineee!” you called out, glancing over your shoulder at him. The current tugged harder the farther you went, but your determination burned brighter. “You’re just mad I’m faster than you.”

His laugh was soft, carried away by the breeze. “Faster, perhaps. Smarter? Doubtful.”

A wistful laugh escaped you as the memory replayed in your mind. Those were the moments before you stumbled upon the cave. If only curiosity hadn’t taken over—then maybe, just maybe—everything would’ve turned out differently.

Perhaps you and Viktor could have grown up side by side and make it Piltover together.

Finally you took the notebook. It sat heavy in your hands. You sighed, brushing the thin layer of dust from the surface. Your fingers hesitating for a moment before you finally flipped it open.

Settling onto the floor with your legs crossed, you prepared yourself for what lay inside.

At first, it was exactly as you expected. Pages filled with equations and wobbly sketches of his prototypes. You couldn’t help but smile as you traced the lines with your eyes, they captured the excellence he was born with.

It was so distinctly Viktor—obsessive, conscientious.

For a brief moment, it felt like he was right there with you, explaining each one of his ideas with his usual avidness, accent curling around the words.

God, you missed him.

As you reached the middle of the notebook, your fingers faltered. There was something different here.

Nestled between the pages was a photo. One you recognized immediately.

Your breath caught as you carefully lifted it, hands trembling slightly.

It was you. An image of a younger version of you at a turning point in your life when your hard work had finally started paying off. The image had been torn from an old newspaper article that featured your story. A story you never even thought Viktor knew or even cared about.

Your eyes shifted to the random affirmations beside the photo in Viktor’s messy handwriting.

"Still the most beautiful."

"I always knew you could make it, too."

"You grew out your hair. It suits you."

"My solnyshka, I hope you carry my love everywhere you go."

And more.

Each line felt like a whisper from him. He wrote them as if he was going to send them to you, as if you were replying to everything he jotted down. They felt like a kiss to your soul that you could almost hear him next to you, sending a shiver down your spine.

You traced the faded ink with your fingers, overwhelmed by the tenderness in every note he left behind.

Viktor had been paying attention all along, even when you believed he had turned his back on you.

Tears blurred your vision as you stared at the photo, the words, and the ghost of his presence woven into the pages. He was right. You indeed looked beautiful, as if you were looking at yourself through his eyes,

This wasn’t just a record of his work, it was also a reflection of the parts of his heart he never fully managed to show you.

And now, here it was, laid bare in your trembling hands.

Your fingers twitched, flipping the pages despite the fear in your heart. A part of you wanted to stop, to close the notebook and shove it back into the box, to avoid whatever might hurt more than you already did. But your curiosity overcame your reluctance, and you flipped to the next page after the other.

What you found stole the breath from your lungs.

In the center of the notebook was a section had been carefully carved out. The edges are neat, every cut made with precision. As if it was a secret pocket.

Within the hollowed space was a ring—a moss agate ring.

The soft green swirls within the stone caught the light, shimmering with a beauty that is so captivating.

It wasn’t extravagant like a diamond, but it was perfect. It felt just like him. Like the Viktor you knew.

The Viktor who found beauty in the simplicity, the meaningful, the genuine.

Your breath hitched as you picked it up, cradling it in your palm.

Moss agate. A stone symbolizing new beginnings and emotional healing. He had chosen it for a reason, you realized, and the realization tightened the ache in your chest even more than before.

It wasn’t just a ring. It was a promise, a reflection of your shared history and of humble beginnings, of scraped knees and childhood laughter, of dreams whispered by candlelight.

As you turned it over in your hand, a folded piece of paper stuck out the notebook, fluttering to the ground like a fragile leaf. You picked it up, noticing the faint smudge of red on the corner.

Blood. His blood. The realization sent a chill through you. Viktor penned this with his own hands, hands that had become frail as his body slowly stagnated.

Unfolding the letter, your breath caught at the sight of his familiar handwriting, every word etched with care despite the shakiness of the strokes.

His voice seemed to reach out to you from the page, the words pulling you into his world one last time.

My little sun,

Should this letter ever find its way to you, I cannot say how or when. Perhaps it never will. But if you’re holding this, it means I am no longer beside you.

I write this not knowing if you’ll ever read it, yet I must. Even if I will never again see your face alight with that smile of yours. There is nothing left to save me, and I’ve tried. I've tried to make peace with it. What weighs heavier than the end itself is leaving you. Knowing I’ve caused you so much pain.

I’ve thought endlessly of us, of the life we shared before it all crumbled.

Do you recall the day we met? You were the only one who didn’t flinch when you saw me. My leg, my limp. They meant nothing to you. You were so small then, full of boundless energy and kindness. You stopped without hesitation to help me gather the rusted scraps I’d dropped. And with that light of yours, you simply asked if I needed help.

Even then, I sensed there was something deeper. Something I wouldn’t understand until much later. From that moment, I knew you were unlike anyone I’d ever known. Only you... could make me feel that way.

I remember those stolen moments by the stream, the times you wept and I tried to comfort you, poorly if I may say. Yet in truth, it was your warmth and your embrace that gave me solace. Your laughter lingers still, echoing in the quiet spaces when I find myself longing for your presence.

And that day in the undercity, when you found that broken toy. You insisted we could fix it, though I swore it was beyond repair. I tried to explain the impossibility with the misaligned gears, but you looked at me with that defiance of yours and said, “We’ll make them fit.” And that we did.

Because that is who you are. Persistent. Always striving to mend what others deem beyond hope, even me. You tried to fix the rift between us when it should have been my responsibility to bear. And in return, I only worsened everything.

Do you remember the night I promised to marry you? We were just children, dreaming of a future that seemed impossibly distant. I don’t know what made me say it. Perhaps it's the way you looked at me, like I could be more than I was. You laughed and called me 'silly', but I meant every word.

Even then, I meant it. I told myself I would build something worthy of you. A life worthy of you.

But instead, I left. I pursued ambitions that devoured me whole and left you behind. And in doing so, I broke us. I see that now, clearer than ever. Though I don’t deserve it, I hope you understand how deeply sorry I am. For leaving, for hurting you, for failing to be the man you deserved.

When I promised to marry you, you told me I’d have to make you a pretty ring. I took that to heart.

I’ve held onto this ring for what feels like lifetimes. It is not grand, not polished like those found in the shops. It is simple. It is us. And it has always reminded me of you.

I don’t know if you’ll ever forgive me. Perhaps I have no right to ask. But you must know this... Loving you was never a regret. It was my only certainty.

You are, and will forever be, my sun. The light I chased even when it burned. You made the impossible seem possible, even for someone like me.

And though I am gone, I hope you will continue to shine. Shine brighter than I ever could.

For both of us.

Yours always, Viktor

Tags: @blackravena @aysluxe @aise-30 @sillyguy49 @22carolina08 @rainyyumbrella @adrestlyd @he4rt4vik @brynneslitteworld @artist2181 @tofueater78 @victormydarling @marshallowy @burning-harmony

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night-fall-moon

9 months ago

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night-fall-moon

2 years ago

Second Son (XVII) | Regulus Black

Series Synopsis: Forbidden from contacting Harry over the summer, you opt to explore the eerie halls of Grimmauld Place where you stumble upon a lonely portrait of the House's second son.

— Chapter Synopsis: Farewells and changes are on the horizon, as are unavoidable confrontations.

Part XVI / Series Masterlist

Pairing: Regulus Black x GN!Reader

Notes: I hope you guys enjoy this...

You don’t think you’ve ever sprinted so fast. As you clamber through the bleached doorway of the home, nearly scaring Asger out of his skin, you suddenly jolt to a stop. Luna peers from over your shoulder, clavicle pressed against your back as she tries to distinguish the cause of your rigidness.

Slowly stepping inside, you feel your knees tremble as doubt begins to seep into your veins. Asger shoots you a concerned look before filling a glass up with water and disappearing into Regulus’ room.

Luna carefully guides you to the table and you take a moment to lean against the beat wood.

“Are you going to stay here?” Her airy words were free of judgment, tone light and even as if she were simply asking you what tea you preferred. You wordlessly nod, barely reacting when the girl pats your shoulders and skips after Asger.

You run your fingers down your coat as hesitation nips at your nerves, a bubble of anxiety rippling through your chest and up into your throat. Hobbling steps echo distantly in your head, and you’re faintly aware of Anders’ approaching magic.

“You okay, kid?” His voice was gruff, but colored with understanding.

You hum quietly, still lost in your head. An unnerving silence roots itself in the room, and you hear Anders shift from leg to leg as he seems to grapple with himself for the right words.

“Alright.” He huffs.

You spin around and face the man, eyes widening at him before gluing to the open window across the room, “Alright? You don’t think I’m a coward?”

Anders rolls his eyes and limps towards you, placing a rugged hand on your shoulder, “Hell you thinking that for?” He moves to sit down next to you, “You’re a lot of things kid, a coward ain’t one of ‘em. Besides, I would do the same.”

Tilting your head, you swallow harshly as a prickly sensation wraps around your neck, “What do you mean?”

“If my Anne were to walk through that door right now, I don’t even know what’d I do,” He shakes his head with a wry smile, “Isn’t it funny that you can wish for something so desperately, but the prospect of it actually happening…”

“It’s unbelievable.” You add, watching as the man nods solemnly. You almost feel selfish for allowing your emotions to taunt you, knowing that you were being handed an ineffable opportunity that the man would kill for.

Before you can say much else, Asger cracks open the door with a resounding creak, slowly padding out with an unreadable expression, “He’s asking for you.”

Your eyes widen considerably at his words, and you turn to look at Anders for guidance. The older man simply jerks his head towards the door, eyes closing as an imperceptible smile tugs at his lips. He looked like he was making peace with something–but what?

Slowly making your way towards the commodious room, you feel your skin buzz and numb, mouth drying up as you gradually sink into a pool of uncertainty. As you cross the threshold, eyes set on the floor, you feel Luna slink around you with a little pat to your back, leaving you both alone.

As the door closes behind you, you slowly raise your gaze up.

“Hello, birdie.” Regulus’ smile is strained, as if he were pained, but his eyes are practically glowing under the light. He’s sitting up on the makeshift bed, arms resting in his lap as he slowly fiddles with the frays of the blanket.

A sob tears through your throat, muddling your words into an incomprehensible blubber as you practically fly towards the boy, throwing yourself into his chest. Your tears were no doubt pooling through the thin fabric of his shirt, but the onslaught of searing emotion only continues to flare as you feel him wrap his arms around you.

His arms. It felt so foreign, but so safe. You don’t think you’ll ever get used to him not being in a rectangular frame.

“It’s okay now, I’m here.” He whispers, hand running down your back as he soothes you.

You shift in his arms and lift your head up, broad tear tracks clinging to your cheeks, “Reggie…you remember me?” If you weren’t so doped up on a tidal wave of emotions, you would have cringed at how thick your voice came out.

The boy smiles at you softly before bringing a hand up to cup your cheek, “Wouldn’t be able to forget you even if I tried, love.”

A burst of affection threatens to demolish all of your sense of propriety as you gaze up at the boy, eyes furiously darting around his face to memorialize the tender emotion that paints his eyes.

You rest your head on his shoulder and tiredly huff, feeling him shiver under you as the cool air hits his neck. It’s only after the passing of a few beats of silence when you realize that you’re practically sprawled across his lap.

Gaping momentarily at the mortification that shatters your euphoria, you slowly shuffle off of him, “Sorry, Reg.”

The boy tilts his head in confusion before tightening his hold, gently guiding your head back onto his shoulder, “Nothing to apologize for, birdie.”

You take a few moments to compose yourself, gently sniffling as your tears begin to cease in intensity, only occasional droplets cascading down. Nuzzling into Regulus’ shoulder unabashedly, your voice comes out a tad muffled, “So do you remember everything then?”

The boy drops his cheek down atop your head, fingers drawing patterns on your hand as he hums, “It’s all a bit foggy, but I remember the vital things. Of course, the memories from when I was a portrait are more coherent than my childhood memories, but I’m mainly trying to remember how to articulate having a physical body.”

“You’re not doing too bad.” You tease, a light smile playing on your lips.

Regulus’ chest vibrates vaguely as he emits a small chuckle, “Oh?” The boy peers down at you before dropping his lips down to the top of your head. Your heart skips at the blatant show of affection, and you grow impossibly fonder of the boy.

“Thank you for coming back to me.” You whisper softly.

He slowly drops back into the capacious bed, drawing you down with him as he tucks you against his side, “Thank you for finding me…again.”

You laugh airily and drop your hand on top of his, suppressing your fluster as he effortlessly weaves your fingers together. The both of you lay together in a comfortable silence, a sudden exhaustion weighing on your chest as you listened to the rhythmic beating of Regulus’ heart.

You’re unsure of how much time has passed the next time you’re fully cognizant, eyes blinking rapidly to shake away the heaviness of your eyelids. It seems the lethargic state you were reduced to after your emotional reunion led you to a dreamless slumber. In your sleep, you practically glued yourself to Regulus, coming to a realization that the boy had somehow been shoved into the crook of your neck, now also in a peaceful drowse.

Brushing his curls away from your cheek, you run your fingers along his spine lightly, nails dancing along the clothed plane of his back. At your movements, the boy stirs groggily, a throaty grumble interrupting the atmospheric silence of the room.

You tighten your hold on him and grin when he blearily opens his eyes, head shifting to chase after the warmth of your skin.

“Morning, baby.” He whispers, nose nudging up against your jaw. His voice is scratchy and still marred by inklings of sleepiness, and you’re not entirely sure if he noticed the little pet name.

You bite your lip to tame the blinding grin screaming to escape on your face, bringing your fingers to run against his scalp, “Actually, I think it’s nighttime.”

Regulus huffs quietly against your neck, “Good, so let’s go back to sleep.”

You hum and open your mouth to agree, but the rumbling of your stomach cuts through the air. Coughing lightly, you ignore the blazing embarrassment that pins itself in your chest, choosing to instead continue your movements.

Regulus nuzzles against you again before slowly detaching from you, raising himself on his elbows as he hovers over you. You could see the sleepiness fade away from his gaze, and you bring a hand up to tuck a curl behind his ear.

“Let’s get you some food, birdie.” He mumbles, dropping down to peck your forehead.

The boy sluggishly stretches as he practically rolls off the bed, arms raised above his head as he yawns. You smile and begin to flee the cozy confines of the blanket, readily moving away from the warmth to stick by Regulus.

“Do you want some tea?” You ask, keeping a careful watch to make sure he wouldn’t promptly collapse into a weak heap of flesh and bones. Luckily, it seemed that the boy was gradually gaining strength.

Slowly pulling the door open, you peer out into the bleak twilight illuminating the house and sigh when you see that the others aren’t around. As you make your way to the cupboards, hands deftly flying about to quickly make some tea for the both of you, you feel Regulus wrap his arms around you.

“Look at us being bloody domestic.” He murmurs, knocking his head gently against yours.

You feel the blood rushing through your ears as you direct all your energy towards making sure you don’t accidentally break anything, too overwhelmed by the affection.

You clear your throat as you put the kettle on the stove, leaning back against the boy, “Not that I hate it, actually, quite the contrary, but I didn’t peg you as an affectionate person.”

Regulus draws patterns on your arms as he muses, “Hm, ‘m usually not. Just for you, I suppose.”

You were sure you were about to go into cardiac arrest, one hand flying up to make sure your heart wasn’t attempting to fly out of your chest. You turn around to face the boy, eyes wide with uncertainty, “Just me?”

The boy looks back at you with an assured gaze, smiling dopily at you, “Yes, just you, birdie.” You mirror his smile and nod slowly, still unsure of what to say.

Before either of you can escalate the situation further, the loud whistling of the kettle rings through the air, its shrill screeching causing you to flinch back. You muffle a laugh behind your hand and watch as Regulus blinks in disorientation for a moment, shooting a look of mock irritation at the steel instrument.

“No, please continue,” a brassy voice rings out from behind you both. You peer around Regulus to see Asger giving you a stare laden with impassiveness. Smiling impishly at the unimpressed man, you simply avert your gaze to the kettle next to you before glancing back at him, “Tea?”

As the breezy coat of nightfall loomed in the skies, you all decided to head out for a small trek to a pier nearby. Luna skips ahead of you and Regulus, leading your small group, as she scurries around to look for unique stones. Anders and Asger were trailing the three of you, both men walking in a comfortable silence.

A crisp wave of wind soars through the air, dotting your nose with coolness. Regulus has his arm looped with yours, eyes drinking up the sight of the environment around you, shining in disbelief and awe.

A flicker of sadness lingers in your heart as you ponder about how muddled everything must have seemed to him when he was a portrait, time gelling together into indistinguishability. You weren’t sure which fate was worse: becoming an inferi or being stuck as a portrait.

The echoing of your footsteps on the wooden dock sound through the night with a woody hollowness, eyes trailing up the pier and towards the inky pool of water around you all. You feel Regulus tense beside you, and you stop in your tracks to study him.

His eyes are glassy and unfocused as he stares into the darkness of the water, body rigid as an internal turmoil seems to paralyze him. You want to smack yourself over the head with a bludger — Regulus was uncomfortable with the murky surroundings because it was reminiscent of his demise.

Tugging at his arm, you slowly guide him away from the dock, shaking your head when Anders glances at your retreating forms. Regulus slowly floats back down to you, eyes no longer as dim.

“I’m sorry. I totally forgot.” You mutter, hands reaching over to comfort him. The boy looks devastatingly vulnerable in his state, an anxious frown creeping up on his face. He had always been so strong for you, it was easy to forget that he wasn’t insusceptible.

He shakes his head and subconsciously leans towards you, arms slowly lifting up to wrap around your frame, “No, I didn’t even realize myself.” His voice is faint, seeming to be tucked away behind his brief panic.

“Do you think you’re okay to travel, Reg?” You whisper, hands crawling up his shoulders to brush against his neck. The boy looks at you in confusion, but nods firmly.

Sighing, your hands rest on either side of his face, thumbs swiping against his cheeks, “When I went back to the cave with Anders to retrieve you, we accidentally encountered Voldemort.”

Regulus’ words nearly jumble together at the news and his mouth drops open, “You bumped into the Dark Lord?”

Grimacing at the wording, you shake your head, “Only briefly. He could only see me, but I’m apprehensive to stay here long. I don’t want to endanger the Fiskes.”

“Where will we go?” He mumbles with furrowed eyebrows.

You bite the inside of your cheek and divert your attention to the stars causing Regulus’ eyes to flicker around your face, “Birdie, what does that look mean?”

Hesitating for a few moments, you consider all of your options before speaking.

“Reg, maybe you’d be safer here,” you reluctantly voice, “I mean, where I’m thinking…it’s too hampered by uncertainties.” You frown, eyes meeting his gaze to try and implore him to see your reasoning. It was not an outlandish assumption in your eyes, as bringing him with you would mean answering inexorable questions and integrating him back into society amidst a full blown war.

Regulus recoils as if you’ve slapped him, eyes wide with shock that rapidly bleeds into outrage, “You don’t actually think I’m letting you run off alone, right?” His voice is taut, bordering coldness, and you shakily exhale as your mind races.

“You’re still recovering, Reg. Your magical core is still-” You begin to sputter, but Regulus shakes his head, and it has your words flushing away in a sweep of uncertainty.

He shifts impossibly closer to you, eyes softening as he rubs your back, “I know that you’re concerned, birdie, but I want to be with you. I’m sorry that I got snippy with you right now, but this isn’t negotiable.” He frowns and leans over to nudge his nose against yours, “I’ll follow you to the ends of the world—wherever your heart desires, but I’m not leaving you to your lonesome when the Dark Lord is on your tail.”

“If you come with me, it won’t be easy.” You breathe out.

He smiles and tilts his head to the side, “All the more reason to follow you, then.”

You assess him for a few moments before nodding, rolling your eyes playfully at the satisfied glint in his eyes, “Stubborn one, aren’t you?”

Regulus hugs you to his body and muses, “Well, someone needs to keep your self-preservation in check.”

As the stars slip away from the canvas of the sky to give room to the rising sun, you all gather inside the house, surrounding the dining table. You had to practically mandhandle Regulus into your usual seat as there weren’t enough chairs, but the boy only gave in once you compromised to share the seat with him.

Luna periodically flashes the both of you grins, eyes shooting off through you as she tangles with visions of the future. Anders leans back in his chair to stare at Regulus, seeming to appraise his worthiness. Asger simply sips his tea and awaits for the conversation to ensue, humored eyes peering at you all over the rim of his cup.

“Anders, I think that we should leave now,” you pause to clear your throat, “I don’t want to intrude and I hate the thought that I’m endangering you both, now that Voldemort is on my trail.” You word-vomit, hands fidgeting anxiously in your lap.

Subtlety was not your forte.

Regulus brings a steady hand to rest on your jittery ones as Anders grunts, “I understand, kid. You do know that we don’t mind though, right?” He raises an eyebrow at you when you don’t respond, “But I get it.”

You breathe out in relief and straighten up in your seat, “Thank you, Anders, truly. This whole experience has been life changing to say the least, and I think I’m going to miss you both, honestly.”

Both men meet your eyes steadily, and Asger breaks out into a small grin before placing his cup down, “I think we’ll miss you guys more, right Dad?” He turns to the older man, who merely grunts and looks away, but you would bet galleons that you saw a smile flash across his face.

Anders slowly pushes himself up and walks off into his room, emerging moments later with a satisfied expression, “Here, kid.” You slowly rise up in confusion as Anders extends a stack of clipped papers towards you.

“What?”

The older man shakes his head and drops back down into his seat, “You didn’t think I’d actually publish someone else’s research, did you?”

You hug the papers to your chest and gape at the man, “But, a lot of this is your research now. Besides, why would you…” You trail off, still boggled by a storm of perplexion.

Anders waves you off and rubs his knee, “It's our research, kid. Anyway, I never intended to write it for myself in the first place, I’m much too old to get caught up in the academic world again.” He looks up at you with a proud sheen in his eyes, “Besides, you did most of the rune work and connection of theories. You better make something of yourself, yeah?”

You are rendered speechless at the blatant display of care from him, and you find yourself wrapping the older man up in a hug before you can stop yourself. The man pats your back as you whisper hushed words of gratitude.

You were practically holding your future in your hands.

As the sun breaks over the veil of morning twilight, dispersing the ground of its mist and biting chill, you all stand at the edge of the village. It is bitterly nostalgic for you, mind flashing back to all those months ago when you stumbled upon Asger during the peak of night.

Regulus stands back, now sporting one of Asger’s oversized corduroy jackets (a deep green, in slytherin fashion, and he looked offensively good in it). He watches as you and Luna say your final farewells to the father and son duo. Luna and Asger chat idly, with the older man patting the girl’s head fondly, smiling when she passes over a large blue stone to him.

Turning away from the pair, you smile sadly at Anders, the older man already facing you with a calm expression, “Stay safe, kid. Tom won’t know what hit him.”

You flash an assenting smile at him before stepping forward to give him one last hug. Closing your eyes, you are rendered inarticulate with poignance, “I’m gonna miss you, old man.”

He pulls back and pats your shoulder reassuringly, “We’ll be alright, I think it’s time little old me did some soul searching.”

Frowning in confusion, you lean back to ask, “How do you mean?”

“Reine has treated us well all these years, but Asger and I were thinking of a change in scenery.” The man avows calmly.

You step back and clutch the research papers tightly in your hands, “We’ll see each other again, right?”

Asger swoops in and swings an arm over his father’s shoulders just as Luna bounces over to your side, hand clasping yours. The younger man grins at you brightly and inclines his head, “Who knows? We’ll be okay though,” he raises his head and his eyes grow serious, “but we want to thank you. You’ve given us a lot to think about, and I think it's time we celebrated my mother’s life instead of stewing in static.”

You nod, mouth betraying just how sentimental you felt as it tugged into a frown, “Go well, both of you.”

Anders cracks a small smile and they both wave you off.

“Give him hell, kiddo.”

“Take care of yourselves.”

Wordlessly, you spin on your heel and walk towards Regulus with Luna in tow, the boy reaching towards you as you approach. In a blur, you’re interlacing your fingers with his and apparating away, the warping taking your mind away from any lingering sadness.

As you touch down on smooth pavement, you feel Regulus shift closer to you, swaying ever so slightly on his feet. After steadying the boy, you turn to take in the sight in front of you — Zabini Manor. White pergolas embellished with thick grape vines curtaining the structure were erected serenely on the clipped lawn. Further back, winding balustrades, highlighted by Italian terracotta pots housing enormous clusters of begonias seemed to welcome you.

The regal property towered over your figures, so much so that you all almost ignored the faint popping sound that echoed from next to you in favor of drinking up the sight.

“Fiore be taking the Contessa’s guests to the parlor room.”

You swivel around and face the house elf, nodding mutely as you’re all led inside. Regulus’ decorum is impeccable, years of etiquette lessons and pure blood preaching seeming to still be instilled in every joint of his body. Luna digs inside of her satchel all the way there and you hear vague clacking and shuffling from the bag.

As the heavy wooden doors swing shut behind you, you feel your neck prickle with goosebumps as you release your magic, seeking out any familiar signatures. Your movements border robotic as you beeline to sit on one of the ottomans in the parlor, spacing out as you peer through the window and see rows of hydrangea bushes.

It was time to face reality.

Regulus slowly traces shapes on the back of your hand as he glances around, no doubt comparing the furnishing to the dismal designs lining Grimmauld Place.

“The brevity of peace is palpable these days, dear.” The euphonious voice breaches the threshold of the room before anything else, and you’re quick to school your face as the Contessa struts into the room, tobacco pipe clasped in one hand.

You stand up and smile diminutively at the woman, “Contessa Zabini. Apologies for the intrusion.”

She sends you a sharp grin before taking her place on an ornate armchair, “No need for the pleasantries, my dear. I must say that you are rather better company than those friends of yours.” She takes a quick hit of her pipe, crossing one leg over the other.

Masking your shock, you smile genuinely and shake your head, “I’m touched, Contessa. Which reminds me, I have failed to properly correspond with Blaise these past few months. I don’t suppose he’s tried to cajole those friends of mine for information?”

The woman exhales a cloud of smoke and hums, “Ah yes, Blaise was quite disappointed from what I hear, but of course we both understood your precarious position.”

“I’ll have to write to him soon, then. I assume that everything is well here?” You begin to fiddle with the corner of the papers in your lap, back aching minutely from your prim posture.

The Contessa brings a hand to rest on her raised knee, eyes momentarily flickering towards Regulus as she smiles, “Quiet and uneventful, my dear. Now,” she tilts her head to gauge the sight in front of her, “I see that you’ve found a friend.”

You could see the cogs whirring behind her eyes, mouth set into a thin line as something akin to familiarity seeps through the cracks of her expression. Nodding, you peer at the boy from the corner of your eye to observe his expression before replying, “Yes, he’s actually what I was referring to when I mentioned my personal interests.”

The woman, to her credit, masks her brimming curiosity well, eyebrows raising as she mutely encourages you to continue. Regulus clears his throat quietly, “It’s a pleasure to make your company, Contessa Zabini.”

The Contessa smiles pointedly at the boy and hums, “Well mannered…how interesting. The pleasure is all mine.” She places her pipe down on the round table next to her, eyes never straying from Regulus’ expressionless face, “Forgive me, but you look quite familiar, have we met before?”

Regulus raises his eyebrows in show, “I do not believe so, I’ve been in recuperation for a number of years now.”

She doesn’t seem entirely convinced but turns back to you with a delighted smirk as she continues to address the boy next to you, “I see. I do hope to get your name then as it intrigues me that you have the ability to convert someone—who the public thought to be a staunch Dumbledore supporter, into a neutral ally.”

Before either of you can respond, the doors practically burst off their hinges as they swing open. The thundering sound has you wincing from your spot, eyes immediately flying towards the source of the intrusion. Your mouth peels open at the sight of your friends and a very enthusiastic Sirius.

Harry immediately beams as he catches sight of you, but his eyes grow as wide as saucers when he takes notice of the boy next to you. Hermione looks exhausted by the commotion around her, no doubt having mentally aged a significant amount in the time of her babysitting duties while you were away. Ron blinks owlishly at you, and waves hesitantly, posture shifty as he averts his gaze to assess the undisguised glower on the Contessa’s face.

Luna jumps up from her seat and scurries over to greet the trio, her smile immediately drawing Harry’s attention away from you both.

Sirius chuckles loudly as he stalks towards you, arms splayed wide open as he goes to hug you, “Pup, you’re finally here!” You quickly hug the older man back, bewildered by his ability to immediately get tunnel vision.

As he draws back from you, your taciturn demeanor only heightens as you watch shock bloom across his face. The man springs back from you in a flash, eyes bulging out as he stammers for words at the sight of Regulus. The boy next to you gazes at his brother with regretful eyes, shoulders now sagging under the weight of the older man’s presence.

The fraught silence is interrupted by a disbelieving whisper from Sirius, “Regulus?”

“It’s good to see you, Siri.”

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night-fall-moon

2 years ago

Emmy, you are the sweetest person ever!! Thank you for your love! I truly am always so honored to see you around :) <33 ! I hope you're having a great day/night, lovely!

No, thank you, love! It’s always been a pleasure reading your works. I can honestly say I’ve never interacted with anyone’s page as much as yours which is saying something. Your works always intrigue me. They’re so eloquent, full of drama, and the themes in it always help out the plot of the story. The way your add more characteristics to the already known characters adds to them. It’s as if we see them as a person and not just a character we like, it’s someone we can relate to in our own way. I love your work and will always continue to support you, I’m glad to be there for you. Have a great morning :)

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