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[writerbugg]

This is literally him 😭

[writerbugg]

𝕭𝖚𝖗𝖓𝖊𝖉

Yan. Viktor x Reader

Word Count - 9.3K

Some notes. This story should NOT be romanticized, this is one of my darker stories so please read the warning.

The timeline of this oneshot is a bit distortated, I'm spreading some of the events out a bit farthen then they happedn in the og storyline.

The reader is mid-twenties (25-26) in this so there's around a 5 year age difference.

!!Warnings!! - Yan. behavior, Mentor and Apprentice Relationship, OOC, Smoking, Violence, Gaslighting, Manipulation, Unwanted Physical Touch, Guilt-tripping, Panic attack, Mentions of Blood, Injury

Pt.2 (Feat. Yan Jayce) Coming soon...

━━━━━╝✹╚━━━━━

And the world screams,

'Kiss me, Sun of God.'

━━━━━╗✹╔━━━━━

Your breath fogs the window as you rest your head against it. The sun hasn’t risen, yet sleep eludes you. Outside, the world is a mix of cold and silence, but your mind churns ceaselessly.

Three years since you began your apprenticeship under Jayce. In that time, Hextech has advanced beyond anything you could have dreamed.

Piltover has become the heart of progress, its Hexgates connecting nations, "The Center of Trade and Evolution," as Mel once called it.

Yet, for all its brilliance, Hextech remains a paradox to you—a marvel you can admire but never fully understand, much less touch.

Your gaze drifts to the blue orb resting beside you, its pulsing aura whispering a melody you can’t quite discern. Hesitantly, you reach for it, your fingers twitching as the air around the gemstone hums with energy.

You barely graze the pristine blue gem before a sharp jolt shoots through your fingers.

You yank your hand back with a hiss, cradling it to your chest. Blowing on your fingertips does little to soothe the sharp, lingering sting. An exasperated sigh escapes you as you look down at your slightly blistered fingers. This result was expected but still maddening.

For reasons you could not understand, touching Hextech directly always left you burned.

“No progress, hmm?”

The clicking of a cane echoes behind you. Panic flickers across your face as you quickly tuck your hand behind your back and turn around, but it’s too late.

Looking up, you’re met with the unimpressed stare of your mentor’s lab partner.

A nervous chuckle escapes as your cheeks flush with shame. Viktor hobbles closer, stopping in front of you. With a pointed expression, he silently gestures for your hand.

Reluctantly, you reveal your hand from behind your back. Viktor takes it carefully, his touch firm but gentle as his eyes trace the small burns along your fingers.

“You know,” Viktor begins, “it seems counter-intuitive for Jayce to appoint the one person in Piltover incapable of safely handling the Hexcore as his apprentice.”

He presses lightly on one of the burns, making you wince and yank your hand back. You glare at him, but he ignores it.

“Why are you up so early?” he asks. “And meddling with Hextech alone? Jayce has told you many times—it’s reckless, given your condition.”

You shrug, offering no real explanation. The ambiguity earns you a disapproving look, though you catch a glimmer of amusement in Viktor’s expression.

“Jayce is rubbing off on you,” he mutters. “Both of you are hardheaded to a fault.”

Viktor turns and gestures for you to follow him. You comply, trailing him to his cluttered desk. Notes are scattered everywhere, buried under odd trinkets and prototypes.

Reaching over the mess, Viktor grabs a small ceramic jar. Carefully, he removes its glass lid, revealing a clear green liquid swirling inside. Dipping a piece of cotton into the liquid, Viktor takes your hand again, dabbing the burns with a precision that’s almost meditative.

The burns will heal in a few days, fading as if they were never there. Still, this ritual has become a quiet tradition, a bond between you and Viktor—something unspoken yet meaningful.

The door swings open, shattering the tranquility. You immediately sit up straight, pulling your hand away from Viktor.

Jayce enters, his smile as bright as ever, and your stomach flutters as his gaze meets yours.

“Good morning, you two!” he says cheerfully, earning a grunt from Viktor and a wave from you.

“Today’s the day—Progress Day!” Jayce announces, his excitement contagious. “We’re finally going to showcase everything we’ve been working on.” Even Viktor’s lips twitch into a faint smile.

Jayce crosses the room to retrieve the crystal you had touched earlier, carefully placing it back in its case. “We need to get ready. Heimerdinger will be here any moment.”

He turns to you, pulling out a pair of gloves from his pocket and handing them over. “My mother made these,” he admits. “For the presentation. I need my apprentice up there with me, after all.”

You take the gloves, admiring the craftsmanship. “Wait… you want me on stage?” you ask, startled.

Jayce chuckles. “It’s your last year of apprenticeship, Y/N. You’ve proven yourself time and time again.” He places a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “It’s time you made your debut.”

━━━━━━━━❪❂❫━━━━━━━━

“The gemstone is gone.”

❪❂❫

“I have come before you to recommend that we suspend all Hextech operations.”

❪❂❫

“I propose that a new chair be brought forth and that House Talis be elevated to the august body.”

❪❂❫

You lay on the rooftop, staring at the stars above. The events of the day whirl in your mind like a storm. The attack, the stolen gemstone, Jayce’s abrupt decision to shut down Hextech operations without consulting you or Viktor, and his election to the council. It all feels surreal, a cascade of chaos.

“The stars are lovely tonight, no?”

The sudden voice draws your attention. Viktor stands nearby, his gaze fixed on the heavens. Though calm, his posture betrays exhaustion.

He sits beside you, gesturing toward the horizon. “Do you see them? The lights of the Undercity.”

You nod as faint glimmers come into view. “You’re from the Undercity, right?” you ask softly.

Viktor inclines his head. “And that’s why you want to use Hextech,” you continue, “to help them.”

“Yes,” he says, conviction threading through his voice. “I wish to end the suffering of the Undercity. To use our technology to evolve humanity—beyond its limits.”

You place a hand on his shoulder. He stiffens at first but relaxes as your words cut through the quiet.

“Your dream is beautiful, Viktor,” you say, admiration clear in your voice. “And I can’t wait to see you and Jayce bring it to life.”

His golden eyes linger on the Undercity before flickering to you. “You believe in us,” he murmurs, almost to himself. “In me.”

“Of course I do,” you reply without hesitation. “You see possibilities where others see obstacles. How could I not believe in that?”

A rare softness touches his gaze. “Thank you,” he says earnestly. “Your faith… it means more to me than I often let on.”

The silence that follows is comfortable, the two of you watching the stars and the faint lights of the Undercity. Yet, a shadow passes over Viktor’s expression. His fingers tighten around his cane, his thoughts veiled but heavy.

“The night grows late,” he says finally. “We should rest. Tomorrow will bring more challenges.”

━━━━━━━━❪❂❫━━━━━━━━

You stood silently behind Jayce, your gaze darting between him and Viktor as the tension between them thickened.

"This is a misuse of our work," Viktor muttered, eyes fixed on the enforcers tinkering with the Hexgate. His voice carried the sharp edge of frustration. "What happened to our promise to improve lives? To help those in the Undercity?"

Jayce let out a sharp breath, shaking his head dismissively. "I’m a Councilor now, Viktor," he replied, his tone clipped. "My priority is ensuring the Hexgates are secure. That has to come first." He turned to you, raising an eyebrow. "You understand, don’t you?"

Caught off guard, you hesitated, shifting your weight. "Maybe you should’ve... included Viktor in your plans," you murmured carefully. "You know, since you’re supposed to be partners."

Jayce scoffed lightly, his humor paper-thin. "Aren’t you supposed to be my apprentice?" he quipped, offering you a half-smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Across from him, Viktor gave you a small, almost imperceptible nod. A flicker of genuine gratitude. You returned it with a faint smile before Jayce’s attention shifted elsewhere.

Marcus entered the room, and Jayce moved to speak with him, leaving you and Viktor by the railing.

"I just don’t understand," Viktor murmured as you leaned on the edge beside him. "This should be all the more reason to push our research further. The Undercity needs us, and the longer we ignore them, the angrier they’ll grow."

His gaze flicked to your hands, lingering briefly on the smooth skin where blisters had once marred the surface.

"...Thank you," he whispered, his voice soft but sincere. "At least you understand my frustrations better than Jayce does."

You shifted awkwardly, rubbing the back of your neck. The quiet critique of your mentor made your stomach knot, but you kept silent. It wasn’t your place to interfere in the growing rift between them.

"—Have you made any progress on the stolen Gemstone?" Jayce's voice cut through your thoughts, snapping your focus back to him.

You noted the strain in his posture, the faint shadows under his eyes. He looked overwhelmed, and a pang of sympathy tugged at your chest. His new role was a heavy burden, but selfishly, you wondered how it might affect your time together. Would he place your training on hold, as he had seemingly done with Hextech?

The thought left a sour taste in your mouth.

Shaking it off, you turned to Viktor, who had gone quiet. His gaze was fixed on the Hexcore, its faint glow reflected in his eyes. There was a distant, almost hypnotized look in his expression.

A chill crept up your spine.

"Viktor?" you called softly, stepping closer. Your heart jolted as you noticed the blood trickling from his nose.

"Viktor!" You grabbed his shoulder instinctively. The touch startled him, and he tensed briefly before relaxing as he recognized you.

“…I’m fine," he muttered, brushing your hand away with a quiet sigh.

Jayce, alerted by the commotion, hurried over. His eyes darted between you and Viktor, narrowing when he saw the blood.

“Viktor, are you all right?” he asked, placing a firm hand on Viktor’s shoulder. The gesture forced you to step back, though you remained close.

“It’s... just a headache," Viktor replied tersely, shrugging off Jayce's hand. "I need to get back to the lab."

He turned away, cane tapping against the floor in an uneven rhythm. Halfway to the exit, he hesitated and glanced over his shoulder, gesturing for you to follow.

You cast a quick, uncertain look at Jayce, who stayed rooted in place, his gaze troubled.

After a brief hesitation, you complied, following Viktor into the corridor.

The walk to the lab was steeped in silence, tension radiating from Viktor with every brisk step. His jaw was set, his frustration evident in the stiff line of his posture.

Suddenly, he stumbled, his cane skidding against the floor. You lunged forward just in time to catch him as he collapsed against the wall, coughing violently.

"Viktor," you murmured, adjusting to support his weight as he leaned heavily on you. His breaths came in labored gasps, but he didn’t resist your help.

"Maybe we should call it a night," you suggested gently. "You’re not well. I could make you some soup—tomato basil, maybe?" You offered a tentative smile. "It’s the only thing I can cook without setting a stove on fire."

Viktor didn’t respond, his focus elsewhere as you guided him to the lab. Once there, you settled him into a chair and pulled up one beside him.

For a moment, the quiet hum of machinery filled the air.

"When I lived in the Undercity," Viktor began suddenly, his voice subdued, "I knew a man—a teacher of sorts. He once told me that loneliness was the burden of a gifted mind." He turned to you, his expression contemplative. "Do you ever feel that? The isolation, simply because you see the world differently?"

You considered his words, offering a faint smile. "Honestly? No. My parents were... eccentric, to say the least. Borderline mad scientists, but they understood me. Every phase, every crazy idea—I always had them."

Your smile softened. "And now, you have me. And Jayce. Even if we don’t always agree, we’re here for you, Viktor. Right behind you. Always."

His lips curved into a faint, bittersweet smile, though his eyes flickered briefly toward the Hexcore.

━━━━━━━━❪❂❫━━━━━━━━

Hours later, you had gone home, leaving Viktor alone in the lab to finish working on the Hexcore. The day’s events weighed heavily on him, the anger and disappointment still clinging to the air like smoke. His hands ran through his hair in frustration.

Sending you home had felt like the right decision at the time, but now that he was alone, a pang of creeping guilt settled over him. He hated that you were caught in the middle of his and Jayce’s ongoing conflict, forced to navigate between them because of your apprenticeship.

Your apprenticeship under Jayce.

The sudden acknowledgment twisted sharply in Viktor's chest. You were bound to Jayce—the Council’s rising star, Piltover’s golden boy. Jayce, who’d leaped into his new role without considering the ripple effects on those tethered to his orbit. On you. On your work. On your future.

If Viktor were your mentor—

He cut the thought off sharply, jaw tightening. It wasn’t his place. But the resentment gnawed at him, clawing at the edges of his resolve. You deserved a mentor who saw your potential, not someone too blinded by his own ambitions to nurture it.

Viktor’s eyes flickered to the porcelain pot sitting on his desk.

Perhaps…

The Hexcore hummed faintly, its glow pulsating in uneven rhythms. Viktor rose, but a sudden wave of nausea pulled him back, his knees buckling as he gripped the desk for support. The fit came hard and fast, wracking his body until crimson droplets sprinkled onto the scattered notes on his desk.

The air thickened, whispers curling like smog around him. His blurred gaze fell to the Hexcore, now spinning in erratic spirals, its light carving shadows that seemed to breathe.

A promise hummed through the static—a tantalizing whisper of hope, of salvation, of Evolution.

━━━━━━━━❪❂❫━━━━━━━━

It was early morning when you got the news.

Your breath was labored as you raced past Jayce who had just exited Viktor's room, not sparing him a single glance.

“Viktor!” Your voice jolts the frail man awake as you burst into the room.

“I came as soon as I heard,” you murmur, setting your bags on the chair beside him and diving into them. “I stopped by a few places to pick up things I thought you might need—”

Your words tumble over each other as you pull out a mismatched assortment of elixirs, fresh food, and little trinkets. You barely notice his faint, amused smile as he watches you, his chest rising and falling with labored breaths.

“You’ve brought half the city,” Viktor rasps, his voice weak but carrying a faint warmth.

You pause, finally meeting his gaze. “I’d bring the whole of Piltover if it meant you’d get better,” you say softly.

His smile lingers, though bittersweet.

You feel tears well in your eyes as you stare at your friend. "...How long?" You whisper shakily.

"...A few months," Viktor answered, his voice quiet.

The words hit like a blow to the stomach. Without thinking, you step closer, wrapping your arms around him. Viktor stiffens at first, surprised, but slowly, he returns the embrace.

You cling to him as sobs wrack your body, your tears soaking into his thin shirt. “I can’t lose you,” you choke out.

For a moment, his hand hesitates, then rests lightly against your back. His voice is a faint murmur, “You won't,” Over your shoulder, he gazes at the sketches of the Hexcore, a stark reminder of what it promised him.

The tools are in his grasp now.

The faint smile on his lips remains, but its sweetness curdles, twisting into something spoiled, something unlike himself. His grip tightens—almost imperceptibly—as if tethering himself to you.

"I haven't given up yet,"

━━━━━━━━❪❂❫━━━━━━━━

“You should be with them.”

Jayce glances up at Mel, her calm expression a contrast to the weight of his own guilt. She’s right, as usual. Viktor was his partner. You were his apprentice. He should be with you, especially after this morning.

That look on your face this morning... The desperation, the panic. He’d never seen you so raw, so vulnerable, and it made him feel helpless. Useless.

Mel’s hand moves gently through his hair as she speaks, breaking the quiet. “How is Mx. L/N? I haven’t seen much of them lately.”

Jayce stiffens, glancing away. “They’re fine, I think—why?”

Mel shrugs, her tone nonchalant but her gaze sharp. “No reason, just an observation. They seem... distant. Did something happen?”

Jayce falters. Had something happened? You and he didn't talk as frequently as before. He searches his memory but finds only fragments—moments where your attention seemed elsewhere, your words clipped.

“I don’t know,” he admits. A quiet befalls the two of them, only a soft breeze interrupting the silence.

“Maybe I... should be there more. For both of them.”

Mel hums thoughtfully, her fingers stilling. “Perhaps you should. Before it’s too late.”

[OML I LOVE MEL KJENFKJSEDF]

━━━━━━━━❪❂❫━━━━━━━━

Jayce hesitated at the door, his hand hovering over the knob. The dim light spilling from under Viktor’s door made his stomach twist. He knew he should have come sooner.

The door creaked softly as he pushed it open, revealing Viktor sitting upright in bed, a sketchpad balanced on his lap. You were slumped in a chair beside him, fast asleep, your face turned toward him with exhaustion etched in every line. Viktor’s hand idly brushed through your hair, his movements slow, almost reverent.

“Jayce,” Viktor greeted, his voice hoarse but carrying that sharp, sardonic edge. “Burning the midnight oil, I see.”

Jayce stepped into the room, his gaze flickering between you and Viktor. “I came to check on you,” he said after a beat. “On both of you.”

“How thoughtful,” Viktor murmured, though there was no mistaking the faint sting beneath his words.

Jayce’s chest tightened. “I didn’t know it was this bad,” he admitted. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Viktor’s smile was razor-thin. “And what would you have done, Jayce? You’ve been occupied. The Council, your reputation, your ambitions—so many pressing matters. Where would I fit?”

The words struck like a blow, and Jayce flinched. “That’s not fair.”

“Isn’t it?” Viktor’s voice softened, a chilling calm threading through his words. “When was the last time you worked with us in the lab? When did you last look at them and see what this has cost?”

Jayce’s gaze fell to you, the subtle furrow in your brow even in sleep telling him everything he needed to know.

“They’re loyal,” Viktor continued, his hand stilling briefly in your hair. “More than I deserve, perhaps. Certainly more than you’ve earned.”

“Viktor…” Jayce’s voice cracked under the weight of guilt.

“They need someone who sees them. Not someone torn between a dozen different obligations.” Viktor’s hand resumed its slow, deliberate motion, his gaze settling back on Jayce with unsettling clarity. “Loyalty has its limits, after all, and it frays under neglect.”

Jayce opened his mouth, searching for a rebuttal, but found none. Instead, he swallowed the lump in his throat and turned toward the door.

As it clicked shut behind him, Viktor glanced toward the Hexcore sketches. His fingers curled through your hair as he murmured, “You’ll see. Progress waits for no one.”

━━━━━━━━❪❂❫━━━━━━━━

Jayce stared at the envelope in his hands. It felt heavier than any paper had the right to be. He had agonized over this decision for days, and yet it still felt like a betrayal.

When he opens the door, the soft clink of tools fills the air. You’re at the workbench, hunched over a half-assembled gadget. The sight reminds him of all the times he would stand over your shoulder and critique you.

“Hey,” he calls gently, but the sound still makes you jump.

You turned, your expression softening into a smile—until you saw the look on his face.

“Jayce?” you asked, worry lacing your tone. “What’s wrong?”

He hesitates. Only for a moment, but still, it felt like an eternity.

“I need to talk to you,” He held out the envelope, his hand trembling slightly. “...about your apprenticeship.”

Your eyes darted to the envelope before back to him. “What about it?”

He hesitated, then forced the words out. “I— Viktor and I thought this might be... better for you.”

You take the envelope, your fingers brushing his briefly. The contact sends a brief flicker of warmth through you, but it’s quickly extinguished by the growing knot in your stomach.

“What is this?” you ask, your voice quieter now.

Jayce rubs the back of his neck, his eyes darting anywhere but your face. “It’s... a transfer of mentorship. To Viktor. He’ll take over as your mentor from now on.”

The silence in the room was deafening.

“It’s for the best,” Jayce said quickly as if the words might soften the blow. “Viktor can give you the attention you nee—”

“Why?” The question escapes before you can stop it, laced with disbelief and hurt. “Did I... do something wrong?”

Jayce winces, shaking his head, “No, it’s not that. You’ve been incredible, really. It’s just Viktor… He’s better suited for this.”

“Better suited?” you repeat, your voice cracking.

“That’s not what I meant." He defended, stepping forward, but you recoiled, the distance between you widening in more ways than one."You deserve someone who can focus on you, who can... help you grow. And with everything going on, I just—”

“You just what?” Your grip tightens on the papers, your heart pounding in your chest. “You don’t want to be my mentor anymore?”

Jayce clenches his fist, but doesn't say anything, unable to look you in the eye.

“I thought...” Your voice wavers as you look down at the transfer forms. “I thought I mattered to you. That this... this partnership mattered.”

“You do,” Jayce says quickly, stepping closer, his hands hovering as if he wants to reach out but can't. “You matter, I promise. This isn’t about that, it’s about what’s best for you.”

“Then why does it feel like you're only doing what's best for you?”

The question hangs in the air, and Jayce flinches as if struck.

Clutching the papers to your chest, you quickly begin cleaning up your station. “Fine,” you whisper, your voice trembling as you jam your now broken gadget into a random drawer. “If this is what you think is best, then, fine.”

Turning away, you leave Jayce standing there, his fists clenching at his sides. The door closes softly behind you, but the weight of what just happened lingers in the room, heavy and suffocating.

Jayce sinks into the nearest chair, burying his face in his hands. “I’m sorry,” he whispers to the empty air, though he knows the words won’t reach you.

━━━━━━━━❪❂❫━━━━━━━━

The lighter flicks in your hand, the flame sparking briefly before you bring it to the cigarette perched between your lips.

The faint burn in your throat as you inhale almost distracts you from the knot tightening in your stomach, replaying the conversation in your mind.

Leaning against the railing, you hold the cigarette loosely between your fingers, smoke curling upward in thin, fading wisps that vanish into the night. Your chest tightens, your gaze slipping to the envelope sitting beside you on the ledge.

You thought you mattered to him.

The sting of rejection mingles with the acrid sting of smoke, and your eyes water. You tell yourself it’s the cigarette.

You take another drag, longer this time, the embers flaring faintly against the darkness.

“Am I interrupting?”

The voice cuts through the stillness, accented and soft. You startle, choking on the inhale, coughing as you fumble to regain composure.

Turning, you find Viktor standing a few feet away, a faint smile teasing the edges of his lips as he watches you struggle.

“Geez,” you rasp, rubbing your throat. “Knocking’s a thing, you know.”

He steps closer, his gait deliberate, his eyes flickering to the cigarette now on the ground. “You smoke?” he asks, voice tinged with curiosity.

“Not often,” you mutter, shifting uncomfortably. “Old habits and all.”

Viktor hums, leaning on the railing beside you. The air between you feels heavier than the night itself. “I heard what happened,” he says, his tone subdued, “I’m sorry.” His hand finds your shoulder, the touch hesitant but grounding.

“You don’t have to apologize,” you reply, toeing the discarded cigarette. “It’s not your fault.”

His hand lingers for a moment before withdrawing. “Perhaps not. But I cannot ignore the role I’ve played in this... shift.”

A bitter laugh escapes you. “Shift. That’s one way to put it.” Your fingers tighten on the railing, the city’s lights blurring slightly as you focus on the ache twisting in your chest. “I don’t even know what I did wrong.”

“You did nothing wrong,” Viktor says firmly, his voice uncharacteristically sharp. It draws your gaze to him. “Jayce’s decision was misguided. Shortsighted.”

His conviction catches you off guard. “You think so?”

“I know so,” Viktor says, his voice softening. “He is distracted, burdened by expectations he barely understands himself. He likely believed this was best for you, but in doing so, he failed to see how much he’s hurt you.”

The words settle heavily. “Maybe,” you murmur, “but it still feels like he gave up on me.”

Viktor’s expression darkens, his hands curling faintly at his sides. “Jayce does not understand the depth of loyalty you’ve shown him. Nor the potential you hold. It is his failing, not yours.”

You swallow thickly, his words cutting through the lingering haze of doubt. “I just... I thought I mattered to him. As a mentor, as a...” You trail off, the word left unspoken, though it hangs in the air.

Silence stretches between you, filled only by the hum of the city below. Viktor’s voice, when it comes again, is quieter but no less steady. “You still matter. To me, at least.”

Your head lifts, his words sinking in. He meets your gaze, his golden eyes steady and sincere. “You are... remarkable,” he continues. “Your dedication and ingenuity should be nurtured, not cast aside.”

Heat creeps to your cheeks, and you glance away, unsure how to respond. “Thanks,” you say softly, the word inadequate but all you can manage.

His lips quirk into a faint smile. He glances at the crumpled cigarette. “Perhaps next time, a cup of tea instead?”

You laugh quietly. “Yeah, maybe.”

With a slight nod, Viktor steps back, retreating into the building, leaving you alone once more. The crisp night air fills your lungs as you take a deep breath.

━━━━━━━━❪❂❫━━━━━━━━

You’re standing beside Viktor, the air in the lab thick with tension. Heimerdinger’s voice carries a weight you haven’t heard before as he stares at the glowing Hexcore. “What is that?” he asks, his tone grim.

Viktor’s lips twitch into a smile, seemingly oblivious to the Yordle’s concern. “I call it the Hexcore,” he says. His golden gaze flickers to the device, its pulsing glow reflected in his eyes. “An adaptive rune matrix. Hextech that evolves.”

The Hexcore radiates a heat that makes your skin prickle, like standing too close to an open flame. The sensation grows, an almost oppressive wave of intensity washing over you.

“It’s groundbreaking,” Jayce adds, stepping closer, his voice animated. His words blur, drowned out by the dryness in your throat and the heat clawing at your senses.

The room wavers, the edges of your vision distorting. Viktor’s voice cuts through the haze. “You alright?” he asks, concern threading through his words. His gaze sharpens, catching the sheen of sweat on your brow.

“Fine,” you manage, your voice hoarse. “Just… not used to this.” You force a weak smile, but his eyes linger, unconvinced.

Before he can press further, Heimerdinger speaks again, his tone firm. “You must destroy it.”

Viktor’s head snaps toward him, disbelief flashing across his features. “What?” he asks, his voice almost breathless.

The Yordle’s expression hardens. “If ever you’ve trusted my guidance, trust me now. I’ve seen nations crumble from a single spark, and this—this is no different.”

Jayce moves to block Heimerdinger’s advance. “No. I won’t let you,” he states firmly, his stance unyielding.

The Hexcore pulses faintly, its glow intensifying for a moment. You step back instinctively, the heat becoming almost unbearable.

Heimerdinger’s gaze shifts to Viktor, his voice softening. “You’ve changed, Viktor. What have you done?”

Viktor hesitates, his focus flickering between the Yordle and the Hexcore. “I… I don’t understand.”

Heimerdinger’s eyes narrow, his voice heavy with warning. “That thing must be destroyed.”

The Hexcore flares again, forcing you to take another step back. Jayce and Heimerdinger exchange heated words, their voices rising over each other. Viktor remains silent, his gaze fixed on the device, distant, almost entranced.

As the argument crescendos, Heimerdinger turns to leave, pausing briefly beside you. “Trust your instincts,” he says, his voice low but firm. “And remember, sometimes your abilities are all you have. Don’t let this be your tragedy.”

His words linger as he departs, leaving a strange tension in his wake. You stay stuck in your spot, not listening entirely to Viktor and Jayce’s hushed conversation.

Viktor’s voice pulls you back. “I want you to come with me, to Zaun,” he says, his tone decisive, Jayce had already left the room, leaving just the two of you. His hand rests lightly on your shoulder, the touch steady despite the faint prickling heat. “It will be... enlightening.”

Your eyes widen at the offer. “To Zaun?” you ask cautiously. “Does Jayce—”

“Jayce isn’t your mentor,” Viktor interrupts, his tone brooking no argument. “I am. Prepare yourself. We leave tonight.”

━━━━━━━━❪❂❫━━━━━━━━

“I understand now,” Viktor said, his voice steady as he stepped closer to the shadowy figure of his old mentor, Singed. The faint flicker of light from a nearby apparatus illuminated his sharp features. “And I need your help.”

Singed didn’t look up immediately, his hands busy calibrating a device on his cluttered workbench. “And you came alone?” he asked, his tone calm, though a tinge of curiosity threaded through it.

Viktor shook his head. “No. My apprentice waits outside.”

Beyond the lab’s cracked door, you leaned against a ruined wall, exhaling a long-suffering sigh. The stale, chemical-laden air was getting to you, but boredom was the real killer. You kicked a pebble at your feet, muttering, “Some ‘important errand’ this is...”

“An apprentice?” Singed finally turned toward Viktor, his pale eyes narrowing with intrigue. “You’ve grown much, my boy. Why not bring them inside?”

Viktor’s gaze swept over the lab, lingering on the glass capsule at the far end. Inside, the still form of Rio floated, suspended in eerie silence. “They’ll... need time,” he replied, a faint unease creeping into his voice. “Like I did. I don’t want to rush things.”

Singed shrugged, his movements deliberate as he set aside his tools. “What is it you’ve brought to me?” he asked, smoothly shifting the conversation.

Viktor stepped forward, handing over a stack of meticulously prepared notes and a sealed vial. Singed accepted them, scanning the pages with practiced efficiency. “Fascinating,” he murmured. “Your work has matured, Viktor. I would very much like to see the device—this Hexcore.”

Viktor tensed, his gaze flickering back to Rio’s capsule. “That... may be difficult to arrange,” he admitted.

Singed’s expression didn’t change, but there was a weight to his silence. Viktor sighed, stepping closer to the capsule, his voice low with frustration. “I’ve tried every combination of runes. Adjustments. Iterations. Yet the result is always the same: the subject withers. It rots.”

Singed’s brow furrowed slightly, his hands resting on the workbench. “Perhaps,” he said slowly, “the fault does not lie with your calculations.”

Viktor’s head snapped toward him. “Then where?”

“With your subjects.” Singed reached for a vial of shimmering, violet liquid, its glow cutting through the dimness. “Nature has made us intolerant to change. Fortunately,” he added, holding the vial aloft, “we have the capacity to change our nature.”

Viktor stared at the vial, unease rippling through him as he took a half-step back. “And this is... shimmer?”

“A variant,” Singed confirmed, walking toward him with measured steps. “It will provide everything one needs to survive a violent transition.”

The vial’s glow reflected in Viktor’s eyes as he hesitated. The liquid pulsed faintly, almost as if it were alive. His cure. His key to evolution, so close he could almost feel its weight in his hand.

“I must warn you,” Singed said, his voice quiet yet deliberate. “If you take this path, they will despise you. Love and legacy—these are sacrifices we make for progress.”

Viktor’s fingers hovered over the vial, his breath shallow. “They will understand,” he said finally, his voice a whisper. “They always have.”

His hand closed around the vial, the glass warm against his palm. For a moment, he studied it, the shimmer within swirling as if in anticipation. He slipped it into his pocket with a flicker of resolve.

“And if they don’t,” he added softly, more to himself than to Singed, “then I will teach them to.”

Without another word, Viktor turned and strode out of the lab. The faint clinking of the vial echoed in his pocket as he stepped into the ruins, the cold air biting at his skin. His eyes quickly scanned the area, finding you crouched by a crumbled wall, lazily tossing rocks into a shallow stream.

He approached and tapped your shoulder, drawing a startled yelp from you. Spinning around, you glared at him, hand pressed to your chest. “Seriously? Can you not?”

“It’s time to go,” Viktor said, his tone clipped, brooking no argument. “I have what I came for.”

You scrambled to your feet, brushing dust off your clothes. "Uh— yeah, right— sorry," you muttered, falling into step behind him.

As you trailed after him, curiosity got the better of you. “Soo... how’d it go?”

Viktor’s stride didn’t falter. “It went... well,” he replied evenly. “I believe I’ve found a solution.”

Your face lit up with excitement. “Wait, really? Does that mean—”

“Not here,” Viktor interrupted sharply, his voice low as his gaze darted to the shadows. “It’s not safe.”

Chastened, you nodded, your excitement dimming as silence fell between you.

The city’s bustle greeted you as you passed into a more crowded district, its vibrancy pulling you from your thoughts. The chaotic energy of Zaun seemed to pulse with life, unlike anything you’d seen before.

“Wow,” you murmured, marveling at the neon-lit chaos. “This is the Undercity?”

Viktor slowed slightly, his expression softening at your wonder. “Yes. It may lack the polish of Piltover, but it is... alive in ways they cannot comprehend.”

You nodded, your gaze darting between the glowing lights and towering structures. “It’s nothing like the stories. It’s... beautiful.”

A faint smile touched Viktor’s lips. “Zaun thrives despite the shadows it’s cast into. Ingenuity flourishes here, even amidst adversity.”

You glanced at him, a grin tugging at your lips. “You’ve got stories about growing up here, don’t you?”

He chuckled quietly. “Zaun teaches resilience, but it is not a kind teacher. Every invention, every triumph—it was survival, not progress.”

“Explains a lot about you,” you teased lightly.

He arched a brow. “Oh? And what does that mean?”

You shrugged, smirking. “You’re like... the world’s most intense puzzle. But lately, I think I’m finally starting to figure you out.”

He chuckled again, a rare warmth in his voice. “And you, my apprentice, remain delightfully open-minded.”

The two of you shared a quiet smile before continuing your journey, the glow of Zaun fading as Progress Bridge loomed ahead.

━━━━━━━━❪❂❫━━━━━━━━

Jayce walks through the smog on the bridge, glancing over the aftermath of last night's attack and the protests. A frown prints itself on his face as he spots two familiar figures near the edge of the bridge.

Anger bubbles just beneath the surface, but he forces his jaw tight, trying to leash it. As he approaches, his boots scrape against the grit of the stone. Viktor is the first to notice him.

“Jayce?” Viktor’s voice is tinged with confusion, his brows knitting together as he gestures toward the blockade. “What is this?”

You sit beside Viktor, a gnawing dread coiling in your stomach. From Jayce's expression, you knew you were in trouble.

Jayce’s voice is low, but it cuts like glass. “Do you two have any idea how this looks?” He glares at Viktor, his words clipped and venomous. “I order a blockade, and my partner violates it, dragging along my- his apprentice? Are you out of your mind?”

Viktor straightens, the weariness in his frame offset by the defensiveness in his voice. “You ordered this?” His tone is incredulous, his gaze searching Jayce’s face. “Why?”

Jayce’s voice rises a bit as he struggles to remain calm. “There are people down there who seem hell-bent on destroying us. And you—” Jayce turned his fiery gaze towards you, “—you just went along with this? Knowing how dangerous it is? How reckless?”

Viktor’s lips press into a thin line as he exhales, shaking his head. “I was consulting a friend about our quandary,” he says, “I brought Y/n along because I’m their mentor, and I thought it’d be a good teaching opportunity.” his words deliberate and firm. “I told you I knew someone.”

Jayce’s eyes widened in disbelief, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “You didn’t tell me they were from the Undercity.”

Viktor’s gaze sharpened, a flicker of something dark passing through his eyes. “What difference does that make?” he asked, his voice quiet but loaded.

“They’re dangerous!” Jayce hissed.

The words hang in the air, as Viktor’s gaze hardens, glaring into the other man, “I’m from the Undercity.”

Jayce's expression melts, a donning look mixed with regret appearing on his face. “Viktor, I didn’t mean—” He reached out, but Viktor batted his hand away, leaning on his cane as he stood.

Sighing, Jayce lowers his hand, "Sorry... Was your friends able to help?

Viktor pauses, glancing back at Jayce, "No," he answered, “No, he said nature was resistant to this sort of..." His grip on his cane tightens, "tampering."

The silence hung heavy as Viktor turned, his back rigid. You follow closely behind, ignoring the feeling of Jayce's stare on you.

━━━━━━━━

The walk to the lab felt endless, the silence between you thick with unspoken tension.

Once inside, the quiet lingered, broken only by the faint, unsettling hum of the Hexcore. You sat across from Viktor, watching as he wordlessly pulled out a notebook, scribbling away as if nothing had happened.

Your gaze drifted to the two plates of food waiting on the desks—Sky must have brought them earlier. Reaching for one, you broke the silence. “Have you eaten?” you asked softly, though you already knew the answer.

Viktor didn’t look up. “We’ve been occupied,” he murmured, his focus unwavering. “I need to figure out how to…”

He trailed off, and you frowned. Setting your bags down, you approached with one of the plates. “You won’t get far on an empty stomach,” you muttered, setting the food beside him.

His pen paused as his gaze flickered to the plate, then to you. “You care too much,” he said quietly.

“And you care too little,” you counter, leaning back in your chair. “Someone has to make sure you’re taken care of.”

He chuckles dryly, placing down his notebook and pen as he turns to meet your gaze. "I thought you were my apprentice, not my caretaker."

You shrug, "Aren't apprentices supposed to help their mentors? Plus,” you leaned against the desk, “after 3 years of working together, I figured I earned the friend title.”

“Perhaps,” he said, his voice quieter now, his gaze fixed on you. There was an intensity in his eyes that made you falter.

The hum of the Hexcore permeated the atmosphere, a subtle yet resolute drone. It reminded you of flies, their incessant buzzing heralding decay, drawn to what was already doomed. Like a song, featuring a strange, almost living rhythm, curling around your thoughts. You made an effort to ignore it, but the unease it evoked inside of you persisted, a whispered omen through static.

Your gaze stayed locked with Viktor’s, his amber eyes glinting with an intensity that made your chest tighten. For a fleeting moment, you wondered if he heard the hum too— 

“Though,” Viktor murmured, his voice low and measured, “perhaps I view you as something more.”

—or if it had already consumed him.

The quiet stretched, your pulse quickening as you tried to process his words. Then, without warning, he leaned forward—lips brushing yours.

His touch was gentle, careful, but it felt wrong. The room shifted, the walls closing in as the Hexcore’s hum swelled into an unbearable crescendo, like flies buzzing over decay.

Your mind screamed at you to move, to pull away, but shock froze you in place.

You didn’t know what to do, or how to react.

When he finally drew back, the space between you felt impossibly vast and suffocating all at once. Viktor stared, wide-eyed, as if he couldn’t believe what he’d done. You mirrored his expression, stunned.

“I don’t know,” he cuts you off, his voice quiet but strained, like a violin string pulled too tight. He looks down at his hands, now trembling slightly. “I... I shouldn’t have.”

Your chest tightens as the silence between you grows unbearable. Every instinct tells you to say something, to demand an explanation, but words fail you. Instead, you grab your bags and retreat toward the door, the hum of the Hexcore growing louder in the stillness.

Viktor doesn’t move to stop you.

The door clicks shut behind you, and the faint sound feels deafening. Outside the lab, the air is cooler, but it did little to soothe the burning of his touch.

Inside, Viktor sat motionless, staring blankly at the plate of food. His lips pressed into a thin line, the weight of his guilt suffocating. But it wasn’t guilt over the act itself—no, the guilt came from something far worse.

I don’t regret it, the thought whispered like a vulture circling prey.

His gaze drifted to the Hexcore, its ominous glow pulsing faintly in the dim room. “I’m losing myself,” he murmured to the silence.

The Hexcore’s hum deepened, an almost living response, vibrating through the air like whispered agreement.

━━━━━━━━❪❂❫━━━━━━━━

You lean over the sink, droplets of water sliding down your face and dripping from your chin. The coolness of the water clings to your skin, but it does little to wash away the lingering sensation. His touch. His words. The suffocating hum of the Hexcore.

Your hands grip the porcelain edges of the sink, knuckles white, as you stare at your reflection in the mirror. Your reflection betrays you, every ounce of feeling lingering on its face. The towel wrapped around you feels heavy, suffocating, as though it might drag you under.

You don’t know what to feel.

Three years you've worked with him, learned from him. Even when he wasn't technically your mentor.

You admired him.

You owe him so much. The opportunity he gave you, the trust he placed in you. His unrelenting dedication and care, even as his body betrayed him.

The memory of his lips on yours lingers like an oil slick, something you can’t scrub away no matter how hard you try.

That bond felt scorched, twisted by the memory of his lips on yours. The Hexcore’s hum still buzzed in your mind, incessant like flies, circling something already decaying.

You press your palm to your lips as if to smother the burning sensation.

You splash water onto your face again, desperate for clarity, for some release from the sickening tangle of emotions pulling at you from every direction. Disgust coils deep within you, heavy and unrelenting. Disgust with him. Disgust with yourself.

How did it come to this?

Your breaths come in shallow gasps as your mind races. Could you have done something differently? Said something? Stopped him? But the guilt gnaws at you, whispering that perhaps you’d allowed this to happen, that your care had somehow blurred the lines between what was right and what should never have been crossed.

The buzzing from earlier won’t leave your mind, an ever-present phantom in the background of your thoughts. Flies, their relentless hum circling something already rotting.

You press the heels of your palms to your eyes, willing the image away. You want to cry, but the tears won’t come.

Instead, you exhale a shaky breath and straighten, staring at yourself in the mirror once more.

━━━━━━━━❪❂❫━━━━━━━━

"You can't be serious." Viktor seethed at Jayce, "You aren't actually considering using Hextech as a weapon, and against the undercity!?"

The past two days away from the lab weren’t nearly enough. The noise, the tension—it’s relentless. You find yourself yearning for a simpler time, back before the council, before the Hexcore began to feel like a living, breathing entity between you all.

"I can't—right now—I can't deal with this," Jayce sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I have a council meeting in a few hours. Y/n," he turned to you, his voice softening, "Could you go over these tests while I’m gone?"

You nodded, distracted, your eyes briefly locking with his.

Before you could reach for the files, a sharp voice cut through the tension.

"No."

You and Jayce turned, surprised by the sudden interruption. Viktor stood at the edge of the lab, his gaze locked on Jayce with an intensity that chilled you.

"They are no longer your apprentice, Jayce," Viktor continued, his voice rigid. "Any work they receive will be through me. And me only."

Jayce froze, eyes narrowing in frustration, but Viktor didn’t seem to care.

"Fine." Jayce scoffed, shooting Viktor one last glare before exiting the lab, the door slamming shut behind him.

The tension between you and Viktor hung in the air as silence settled in. Viktor turned back to his work, fiddling with some mechanical components. You returned to your notes, the scratching of your pencil filling the void between you.

The stillness was deafening. Only the clinking of Viktor’s tools against metal and the faint hum of the Hexcore filled the space.

"Shit, where—" Viktor muttered under his breath.

You lifted your gaze, curious, but the irritation in his tone was unmistakable.

"Y/n," he called quietly, "Do you think you can find my needle nose pliers?"

You nodded, mumbling a soft "yes" as you rose from your desk.

You glanced around, quickly spotting the pliers resting right next to the glowing Hexcore. Unease settles in you once more as you stare at the Hexcore.

Did it always look like that?

"Y/n?" Viktor's voice cut through your thoughts, forcing you back into reality.

"Oh— uh, found them."

You mutter, going over the the desk to pick them up. The moment your fingers brushed against the tool, the air seemed to crackle.

The Hexcore flared, and before you could pull away, a tendril of magic lashed out, striking your hand.

Pain seared through your palm, sharp and relentless, making you gasp and stumble back. But it was too late.

The Hexcore surged, and agony radiated up your arm like wildfire.

"Y/n!" Viktor's voice was frantic now, his chair scraping sharply against the floor as he rushed to your side.

Your skin sizzled as the glow of the Hexcore intensified.

A yank on your arm forces your attention away from the burn, Viktor grasped your hand tightly, inspecting the burn. It looked... worse than all the other burns you had received.

"You... You should have been more careful," Viktor murmured, his words shaky, but they felt distant, disconnected like they were coming from somewhere far away. His face was pale, his lips pressed into a thin line as he stared at your burned hand.

Slowly, he drags you away from the Hexcore over to his desk. Viktor grabbed a familiar porcelain pot, its surface cracked but still holding strong. He removed the glass lid, the faint scent of herbs wafting into the air as the greenish liquid within shimmered under the lab’s dim light.

For a moment, his hand hovered over the pot, hesitation flickering in his eyes. He dipped a piece of cotton into the liquid, his movements precise, almost mechanical. Then, with a gentleness that felt strangely out of place given everything, he took your injured hand in his.

The burn throbbed as he dabbed the cotton over it, the cool liquid soothing the worst of the sting. His touch was deliberate, almost reverent, as though he were trying to erase the damage through sheer force of will.

“This isn’t permanent,” he said softly, breaking the tense silence. “It will heal in a few days. You’ll hardly remember it.”

You winced as the liquid seeped into the wound, biting your lip to keep from crying out. “I’ve heard that before,” you muttered, your voice tight.

Viktor stilled, his hand pausing over yours. He stared at the burn for a long moment before he spoke again, his voice quieter this time. “Do you remember the first time this happened?”

You didn’t answer immediately, the memory tugging at the edges of your mind. It was years ago now, back when the lab felt like a sanctuary instead of a battlefield. Back when Viktor’s smile held warmth instead of shadows, the Hexcore was just an idea, not a force that seemed to breathe and pulse with its own twisted life.

“I remember,” you said, at last, your tone guarded.

Viktor nodded, his lips curving into something that was almost a smile but didn’t quite make it. “You were shaking. I thought you might never come back.”

You glanced at him, caught off guard by the faint flicker of nostalgia in his voice. “I didn’t want to. Not after that.”

He hummed, the sound low and contemplative. “And yet you did. You always came back.” His eyes met yours, and for a fleeting second, they softened. “Even when you have every reason not to.”

The words hung between you like a fragile thread.

“I came back because I trusted you,” you said quietly, the weight of the statement pressing down on your chest.

Viktor flinched, the softness in his eyes hardening into something darker. He lowered his gaze, focusing intently on your hand as he wrapped it in a clean bandage.

“You still can,” he murmured, but the words felt hollow like he was trying to convince himself more than you.

The silence stretched on, heavy and oppressive. Finally, Viktor broke it, his voice barely above a whisper. “About… before.”

Your breath hitched, and your stomach churned at the memory. You didn’t want to talk about it, didn’t want to relive the wrongness of his lips on yours or the way it had made your skin crawl.

“I shouldn’t have…” he began, his tone strained as if the words were being dragged out of him against his will. “It was—” He faltered, his grip tightening ever so slightly around your wrist. “A mistake.”

Viktor didn’t meet your gaze, his focus fixed on the task at hand. But there was something in the set of his jaw, the tension in his shoulders, that made you doubt the sincerity of his words.

“Do you regret it?” you ask.

His hand froze mid-motion, and for a long moment, he didn’t respond. Then, slowly, he looked up at you, his amber eyes burning you.

“No,” he admitted, the word barely audible. “I don’t.”

The air between you seemed to shift, the weight of his confession pressing down like a physical force.

You pull your hand away from his grasp, and he lets you.

━━━━━━━━❪❂❫━━━━━━━━

You wandered the dark hallways, muttering curses under your breath. In your rush to leave earlier, you had forgotten something important in the lab, and now you were back. The sun had long set, casting shadows that made the corridors feel even more oppressive. Every step felt heavier as you neared the lab.

Your hand rested on the door, but you hesitated. A strange purple glow seeped from beneath it. Frowning, you pushed the door open just a little more.

What you saw inside froze you in place.

Viktor stood at the center of the room, clutching the Hexcore as energy surged from it. The room was alive with chaotic power, papers swirling violently in the air. The air crackled with an intensity that almost felt suffocating.

Viktor’s grip on the Hexcore was inhumanly tight, his body convulsing as energy ripped through him. His screams echoed a twisted mix of pain and something darker.

"Viktor!?"

Without thinking, you rushed forward, grabbing his arm in an attempt to pull him away. But the Hexcore seemed to resist, pulling back with a force that threatened to tear you apart.

A searing pain coursed through you, starting from your hand and spreading through your body like wildfire. You gasped, the sensation of your skin sizzling almost audible as you fought to stay on your feet.

An opulent light flared around you, the burns climbing up your body halting and healing quickly but leaving deep, raw scars in their wake. You could barely keep your vision clear as they spread, scarring your face and limbs, only for the wounds to heal just as quickly—leaving deep, jagged scars behind.

Viktor’s strained gasps filled the air as he looked over his shoulder, horror donning in his eyes when he recognized you. He saw the burns, your face raw with the damage, but before he could speak, the Hexcore pulsed again.

A final surge of energy erupted from it, throwing you back, your body slamming against the wall with a sickening crack. The lab was plunged back into silence, save for the distant hum of the Hexcore still glowing ominously in the center of the room,

Viktor gasps, catching his breath as he writhes on the floor. Desperation claws at him as he searches for your body, wi9dening once he sees it on the other side of the lab, blood smearing the wall behind you, a stark red against the pale stone.

“Y/n—” His voice cracked, hoarse and trembling. He dragged himself toward you, his movements slow and unsteady, his desperation palpable.

“Y/n!!”

━━━━━━━━❪❂❫━━━━━━━━

Jayce stood motionless, staring at the still form in the hospital bed. Half of your face was unmarred, a ghost of the person he’d known for years. The other half was ravaged beyond recognition, the skin deeply scarred, a stark contrast that was hard to look at.

Beside him, the doctor spoke, her voice calm but grave. “There’s a spinal fracture. If they wake, they’ll be paralyzed from the waist down.”

“Stop,” Jayce whispered, his voice barely audible. He closed his eyes, as if shutting out her words could make them untrue. “Just... stop.”

The doctor hesitated, then nodded, her expression softening. “I’ll give you some space.”

As she left, Jayce remained rooted by your bedside, his gaze never leaving you. How had it come to this?

You had been more than an apprentice to him—his confidant, his partner, someone who believed in him even when he doubted himself. And now, you were here, teetering on the edge between life and death.

He gently reached for your hand, clutching it as though his grip alone could anchor you to this world. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “No more of this. No more council. I’m done with them. We’ll fix this. I’ll fix this.”

But his words felt hollow, and deep down, he knew he couldn’t undo what had been done.

━━━━━━━━❪❂❫━━━━━━━━

“No one could have predicted this tragedy. Today marks six months since Zaun’s devastating attack on Piltover—”

The radio droned on in the background, but Viktor wasn’t listening.

He stood silently beside the hospital bed, his gaze fixed on you. Your face, marked by the scars left behind, was peacefully asleep. Machines beeped softly in the background, monitoring your condition.

Viktor’s discolored hand hovered just above yours, trembling slightly. His expression was unreadable.

“Soon, my dear,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “Soon.”

To be continued...

TagList:

@marcyyywukinnie

[writerbugg]

Writing an Yan. Viktor one-shot y’all ✌🏼😔 3,104 words in and barely done with the beginning.

__

DONE! Here’s the link

[writerbugg]

Opinions?

[writerbugg]

Psychic In Training ::

Chapter # 1 Tourist Trapped

Wattpad

Code, Chapter 1 (You are here)

Life is infinitely stranger than anything which the mind of man could invent. - Conan Doyle

»»————- 🪬 ————-««

'Ah... Summer break, the time for parents to ship their kids off to some negligent camp to terrorize some poor 20-year-old looking for some extra cash.'

'That is... unless you're with the Pines.'

You scream as the golf cart crashes through the billboard, roughly hitting the ground before speeding up again. Glancing backward, you could see the shadow of the creature chasing you, and it seemed to be getting closer.

"Dip!" You yell, "It's gaining on us!"

"I know! This thing won't go any faster, Y/N!" The boy in front of you shouts back.

"Uhh guys," The girl next to him peaks her head out of the cart, "It's getting closer!" She shouts panicked.

"We know!" You and the boy yell at the same time.

'My name is Y/n. The sweaty boy in front of me is Dipper, and the girl beside him about to puke is Mabel.'

'Now, you probably already know why we are fleeing from some imaginable horror in a golf cart. Well I'm going to tell you anyway, and I promise, it's for a completely illogical reason.'

»»————- 🪬 ————-««

Beep. Beep. Beep.

You groan, reaching over to silence the alarm. It's the first day of summer break, but your mother insists on the 7:00 AM wake-up call.

"Y/n! The Pines are here!"

You groan louder. Your mother found a loophole after promising not to send you to camp this year. Now you're left wondering what's worse: a summer at Camp Campbell or a summer with the Pines weird uncle.

Dragging yourself out of bed, you slip into a short-sleeve turtleneck sweater and a pair of shorts, moving as slowly as you can.

"Come on, Y/n! We don't have all day!"

Grabbing your backpack on the way, you rush downstairs, where you're met with Dipper's less-than-enthusiastic expression and Mabel's overly enthusiastic grin.

It can't be that bad, right? No crazy, out-of-control adventures.

With a resigned sigh, you follow the Pines out of the house, bracing yourself for whatever this summer has in store.

»»————- 🪬————-««

"I'm pretty sure this is breaking some kind of child labor law," you mumble as you restock the blue and white pine tree hats. Off to the side, Dipper is polishing a jar of eyeballs while Mabel stalks some random customer.

"Mabe," you call out, giving her a pointed look. "Stop creeping on that poor guy and help me with these hats." Mabel just blows a raspberry at you, her focus undeterred. You turn to Dipper with a shrug. "Well, I tried. Your turn."

Dipper sighs, rolling his eyes as he sprays the jar again. "Mabel, I get that you're in your 'Boy Crazy' phase," he says, stealing a glance at the list in the customer's hand, "but you're kind of overdoing it on the 'crazy' part."

Mabel blows another raspberry, this time at Dipper. "Come on, you two!" she exclaims, bouncing over to join you. "This is our first summer away from home!"

You raise an eyebrow. "Speak for yourself, Mabe. I've been going to summer camp since I was five. It's not all it's cracked up to be-just a bunch of rules and chores." You gesture to the hats you're organizing. "This is just a slightly more illegal version of that."

Mabel crosses her arms, a smug smile spreading across her face. "Mock all you want, but I've got a feeling this summer's going to be amazing. In fact," she points dramatically to the door, "I wouldn't be surprised if the man of my dreams walked through that door right now."

The three of you turn to see Grunkle Stan walking in.

"Ha!" you snort, pointing at Mabel. "Dreamy enough for you, Mabe?" You continue laughing as Mabel cringes in disgust.

Stan strolls over, eyeing the three of you. "Alright, I need someone to go hammer up these signs in the spooky part of the forest."

"Not it!" Mabel and Dipper shout simultaneously, making you groan.

"Uh, also not it," Soos chimes in.

"Nobody asked you, Soos," Stan deadpans.

"I know, and I'm comfortable with that," Soos replies cheerfully, taking a bite out of a chocolate bar.

Stan turns back to you and the twins. "Well, since one of you was slow, you're doing it." He dumps a stack of signs into your arms. "But you've got a habit of 'getting lost,' so you'll need a companion."

Scanning the room, Stan spots Wendy at the counter. "Wendy! Help Y/n with these signs!"

Without even looking up from her magazine, Wendy replies, "I would, but I... uh... can't... uh... reach them."

Stan mutters under his breath, "I'd fire all of you if I could," before turning to Dipper. "Alright then, let's make it eeny-meeny-miney..." He points at Dipper. "You."

"What?!" Dipper protests. "Grunkle Stan, I always feel like I'm being watched when I'm in those woods." He sneaks a glance at you, lowering his voice. "And Y/n gets weird in the forest."

You shoot Dipper a glare. "Hey! I can hear you, you know..." They ignore you.

Stan gives Dipper an unimpressed look, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Ugh, not this again."

"I'm telling you, something weird is going on in this town. Just today, my mosquito bites spelled out 'beware.'" Dipper rolls up his sleeve to show Stan.

Stan squints at it. "That says 'bewarb.'"

You snicker. "Who knew mosquitoes were bad at spelling?"

Dipper lowers his arm, embarrassed, scratching at the bites. Stan shakes his head. "Look, kid, the whole 'monsters in the forest' thing is just a local legend made up by guys like me to sell merch to guys like that." He nods toward a sweating, grinning customer clutching a handful of merchandise.

"And Y/n's just... a little special. Nothing weird about it." Stan shrugs. "So quit being paranoid."

You huff, handing some of the signs to Dipper. "For the record, I can still hear you."

»»————- 🪬————-««

Hanging up the signs quickly became boring. Dipper was hammering nails into the trees so that you could hang the signs, he was muttering something about Stan not believing him.

"Could you not?" You snap, "All you do is complain, it'd be nice if you'd talk about something more pleasant for once."

Dipper shot a sharp glare your way. "Like you're any better. All you do is make snide comments and dump your work on everyone else."

You gasp, feigning offense. "When have I ever?"

Dipper's expression turned flat, clearly unimpressed.

✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

"Who shrunk my sweater!?" Mabel wailed, holding up the now tiny garment. "I told everyone this was special cotton! It needs delicate care!"

You glance up from your magazine. "Pretty sure Soos did it," you answer before returning to your reading.

Dipper stared at you before his eyes flicked to the chore list on the wall, your name plastered next to 'Laundry'.

✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

"That was one time." You defend yourself.

"No! It wasn't! That was one of multiple times!" Dipper said exasperated, placing down another nail and hammering it.

Clank

Both of you freeze, staring at the tree. Dipper taps the hammer lightly against the trunk again, confirming the odd sound. Lowering the hammer, he examines the tree closer, running his hand over the bark until he finds a small crack.

With a glance at you, he pries open the "tree."

A mechanical box with two switches sat within a hidden compartment. Dipper tests one of the controls, nothing. He flips the other switch, and next to you, a hatch suddenly opens in the ground.

You exchange a wary look with Dipper before cautiously peering inside the hatch. There, nestled within the earth, lay an old, thick book. Dust covered it completely, cobwebs clung to its edges, and millipedes skittered across its surface. The cover bore a gold six-fingered handprint, with the number "3" written on its palm.

You slowly reach for the book in the hatch, somewhat hesitate as a bad feeling sinks into your stomach.

A sharp shock runs through your hand as your fingers graze the surface of the book. The air around you seems to hum with a sudden energy, and a burning sensation spreads across your palm.

Something was drawing you towards the book, something ancient and powerful as if it had been waiting for you. The sensation sharpens, and a rush of images and whispers, flood your conscience.

"-/n! Y/n!!" With a sudden tug, you're pulled away from the book. Dipper, who was now in front of you, was gripping tightly onto your shoulders, a look of genuine worry on his face.

"What was that?" he asks, searching your face for answers. When you don't respond, he turns and reaches into the hatch, carefully pulling out the book.

He places it on the ground and opens it, eyes scanning the pages.

"It's hard to believe it's been six years since I began studying the strange and wondrous secrets of Gravity Falls, Oregon." Dipper flips through the book, each page revealing bizarre creatures and terrifying monsters.

"What is all this?" Dipper whispers in awe. You lean over his shoulder, catching a glimpse of a page that reads "TRUST NO ONE!"

"My worst fears have been confirmed. I'm being watched. I must hide this book before it's found. Remember, In Gravity Falls, you can't trust anyone."

You and Dipper exchange a tense look, a silent pact forming between you both.

"HALLO!!"

You yelp in surprise, falling backward.

Mabel was behind you, leaning over a rotten log. "What'cha reading, some nerdy thing?" she teased, trying to peek at what Dipper was hiding behind his back.

"Uh- uh- it's nothing!" Dipper stammers, shooting you a desperate look.

""Uh, uh, it's nothing!" What? Are you not gonna show me?" Mabel laughs.

Dipper looks at Mabel then the Journal then back at Mabel. "Let's... go somewhere more private."

Mabel raises an eyebrow but simply shrugs. She hops over the log and strides quickly toward you, extending a hand to help you up.

You offer her a grateful smile as you reach for her hand.

"What is that?!" Mabel exclaims, suddenly tightening her grip on your hand as she examines it closely. "When did you get a scar like this?"

Startled, you pull your hand back and stare at your palm, shocked to find a vertical eye seared into your skin.

»»————- 🪬————-««

"I can't find anything," Dipper mutters, flipping through the pages with a frustrated sigh. "There's nothing about a mysterious vertical eye appearing on someone's palm."

The three of you have ended up in the Mystery Shack's resting room. You're seated beside Mabel, while Dipper paces back and forth, rifling through the Journal's pages.

"But still, this thing is incredible!" Dipper exclaims, holding the Journal open for Mabel to see. "Grunkle Stan thinks I'm just being paranoid, but according to this book, Gravity Falls has a hidden dark side."

You lean forward, a frown tugging at your lips. "Dip, this could be dangerous. That book gives me the creeps." You wave your hand in front of Dipper's face. "And look at what it did to me!"

Dipper bats your hand away, his expression annoyed.

Ding-Dong

"Who's that? More tourists?" you ask, glancing toward the door. Mabel grins at you. "Well, it's time to spill the beans." She playfully pushes over an empty can of beans. "Boop. Beans." Mabel beams, clearly pleased with her joke before continuing, "This girl's got a date! Woot woot!"

You and Dipper exchange incredulous looks. "Wait," you begin, "In the half hour we were gone, you managed to get a date who didn't run away from your... let's say, intense enthusiasm?"

Mabel nods enthusiastically. "What can I say? I guess I'm just irresistible."

Dipper looks like he's about to say something, but you cut him off with a grin. "You know what? You go, girl."

The doorbell rings again, and Mabel jumps up, hurrying to answer it.

Dipper sighs, slipping into the seat Mabel just vacated. "I can't believe I was right," he says with a grin, flipping open the journal. "Do you mind trying to touch it again?"

You hesitate for a moment, then nod. "Alright, but if I get possessed, I'm blaming you." Dipper brushes off your comment and passes the journal to you.

You carefully take it from his hand, bracing yourself for anything.

...

But nothing happens. No surge of energy, no eerie whispers—the journal sits quietly in your hands, completely still.

"What'cha reading there, slick?" Grunkle Stan asked as he walked into the room.

"Oh!" Dipper yelped, quickly shoving the book behind his back and snatching up the nearest magazine. "Just catching up on..." He glanced at the cover in his hand, "Gold Chains for Old Men?" He read aloud, raising an eyebrow.

Stan leans over Dipper's shoulder and grins, "That's a good issue."

"Hey family~" Mabel calls out as she drags some homeless-looking guy with her, "Say hello to my new boyfriend!"

"Ugh- ew-" you blurted out at the sight of the pale, disheveled boy, but quickly stopped when Mabel gave you a look, "Sorry, it was involuntary."

"Sup." The boy says.

"Hey," Dipper responded awkwardly. Stan, still focused on the TV, didn't bother to look at the boy. "How's it hanging?"

You squinted at him, suspicious. "How old are you?" you asked.

The boy hesitated, stumbling over his words. "Uh- um- fifteen?" he answered, uncertain.

"...You're definitely lying-"

"We met at the cemetery!! He's really deep." Mabel quickly interrupts your line of questioning.

Dipper narrows his eyes, suspicion clear in his voice. "So, what's your name?" he asks.

The 'teen' straightens up, a bit tense. "Uh... Normal... MAN!" he blurts out.

A faint warmth begins to radiate from the center of your palm, just enough to make you curl your fingers slightly. Unbeknownst to you, a soft greenish-blue glow flickers beneath your skin.

"He means 'Norman,'" Mabel chimes in, leaning closer to him.

You take another look at Norman. "Right... and is that blood on your cheek, Normalman?" you ask, pointing to the red liquid dripping down his face.

"...It's jam," he replies, a little too quickly.

"...Seriously?"

Mabel gasps, delighted. "I love jam!" She turns back to you and Dipper with a grin. "He's perfect!"

You shake your head. "Mabe, your standards... where are they?"

Norman turns to Mabel, "So, you wanna go hold hands or... whatever?" He asks, Mabel blushes shyly, "Oh, goodness!" she exclaims, casting a quick glance at you and Dipper. "Don't wait up for me!" she calls out, her voice light and excited as she hurries out the door with Norman.

As they disappear, the burning sensation in your palm begins to fade, replaced by a faint, lingering buzz. You lift your hand, studying the vertical eye with a puzzled expression.

»»————- 🪬————-««

"Of course Stan sticks me with the broom closet for a bedroom," you mutter, shuffling into the cramped space. As soon as you reach the bed, you collapse onto it with a weary sigh. Your gaze drifts to your hand, staring at the vertical eye on it.

"...What are you?"

KNOCK KNOCK

"Y/n!!" You jolt, startled by the sudden noise.

"Mabel'sdatingazombieandshe'sgoingoutonadatewithhimrightnow!!!" Dipper's frantic voice spills through the door in one breathless rush.

You quickly get to your feet and swing the door open. "Woah, woah, slow down, Dip-" You grab his shoulders, worry knotting in your chest. "Explain that again, but slower."

Dipper takes a couple of shaky breaths, but his panic is still written all over his face. "Mabel's dating a zombie, and she's going on a date with him right now!" Without waiting for a response, Dipper turns and dashes off, pulling you along with him.

"Huh!? Wait- how do you know?" you manage to ask as you stumble after him.

"Earlier today, I was following him to gather evidence," Dipper confesses. "When I reviewed the footage, I saw him lose his hand and then reattach it!"

"I knew something was off about that weirdo..." You mutter, following Dipper out of the Mystery Shack. Stan was standing in front of a crowd, showcasing some kind of rock face, which made it virtually impossible to get his attention.

Scanning the area for an alternative, your eyes land on Wendy, casually sitting in a golf cart. "Dip! Look!" you exclaim, pointing toward her. Dipper's eyes widen before he grins at you. "Nice catch, Y/N!"

Rushing over, you quickly approach Wendy, "Wen, Just the gal I need, you don't mind if we steal that cart and possibly wreck it right?"

Wendy looks at you, then at Dipper, then back to you, and shrugs with a lazy grin, tossing you the keys. "Just try not to mow anyone down."

With a smirk, you hand the keys to Dipper. "Let's go save your sister."

You and Dipper jump into the cart, ready to back out of the lot when Soos suddenly appears, blocking your path.

"Dude, it's me, Soos," he says with a grin, handing Dipper a shovel. "This is for the zombies." He then turns to you, passing you a bat. "And this is just in case you come across a piñata."

"Uh... Thanks?"

»»————- 🪬————-««

"I am seriously regretting giving you those keys" You shout as Dipper drives through the forest like a madman.

"Don't worry Mabel" Dipper shouts loudly, "We'll save you from that zombie!!" He accelerates faster.

"Help!" A shout resonated from off in the distance. You and Dipper gasp,

"Mabel!"

"Mabe!"

Dipper makes a sharp turn off the road, driving through the forest trying to follow the sound of Mabel's voice.

Soon, you both approach some kind of cave, and inside you can see Mabel surrounded by... gnomes?

Dipper slows down, parking once he's in the cave. "What the..." He mutters, "What the heck is going on here!?" he shouts, both confused and extremely underwhelmed.

A gnome runs up to you and hisses, prompting you to kick it.

"Dipper! N/n! Norman turned out to be a bunch of gnomes!" Mabel shouts as she bats away the gnomes crowding her, "And they're total jerks!" One particularly persistent gnome latches onto her hair, making Mable gasp in pain, "Hair- hair- hair-!"

Dipper stares at the chaos, shaking his head in disbelief. "Gnomes... huh, I was way off."

A faint warmth begins to emanate from your palm, similar to before. Glancing down, you gasp seeing the vertical eye glowing with a soft greenish-blue light.

"Hey! Let go of my sister!" Dipper yelled at the brown-haired gnome.

The brown haired gnome spins around, offering Dipper a sheepish grin. "Oh! Uh, hey there," he stammers with a nervous chuckle. "This is just a big misunderstanding, really. Your sister's perfectly safe. She's just, you know, marrying all thousand of us to become our gnome queen for eternity!" He turns back to Mabel with a smirk. "Right, sweetheart?"

Mabel, now tied down, glares daggers at the gnomes. "You guys are butt-faces!" she yelled before one of them hastily muffled her.

You step up beside Dipper, and kneel down to the gnome's height, trying to ignore the faint warmth spreading in your palm. "Listen here, Normal-man," you mock, voice steady, "if you and your creepy little friends don't let Mabel go, I'm going to recreate that gnome scene from the 2015 Goosebumps movie." You give your bat a subtle lift, just enough to make your point clear.

The gnome glares at you. "You think you can stop us? You have no idea what we're capable of. The gnomes are a powerful race! Do not trifle with the-"

You nudge him off the rock with your bat.

Dipper wastes no time, stepping forward to cut the string holding Mabel down with his shovel. Mabel flashes him a grateful smile before kicking the gnomes away and rushing toward the golf cart.

Dipper grabs your hand, pulling you along. For a brief moment, he hesitates, noticing the glow in your palm. You can almost hear the questions forming in his mind, but the urgency of the situation forces him to push them aside.

Once in the cart, Dipper quickly starts it up and speeds away. Faintly, you hear Jeff yelling behind you.

As the three of you exit the cave, Dipper eases up on the speed, his tension fading.

"Hurry, before they come after us!" Mabel urges, prompting Dipper to chuckle. "I wouldn't worry. Did you see their legs? Those suckers are tiny!"

You frown. "I'm with Mabe on this one, Dip. That was way too easy."

Dipper rolls his eyes. "And you called me paranoid-"

THUMP THUMP THUMP.

"...I blame Dip. He jinxed us."

A giant gnome monster, made up of smaller gnomes, looms behind the golf cart, chasing you.

"Move, move!" Mabel shouts at Dipper. He stumbles but quickly picks up speed. Glancing back, you see the creature's shadow growing larger.

"Dip!" you yell. "It's gaining on us!"

"I know! This thing won't go any faster, Y/N!" Dipper shouts back.

"Uhh, guys," Mabel says, peeking her head out of the cart. "It's getting closer!" Her voice is panicked.

"We know!" you and Dipper yell in unison.

The monster swings its massive arms, hurling small gnomes through the air toward your cart. Two gnomes land beside you, and out of reflex, you smack the one on your left, knocking it out cold.

The gnome on your right hisses, ready to pounce, but you swiftly grab the unconscious gnome and toss it at the other, sending both tumbling out of the cart.

Another gnome crashes onto the hood and springs at Dipper, latching onto his face with a tight grip.

You lunge forward, reaching over the seat to help the boy. The moment your hand touches the gnome, a greenish-blue light flares from your palm. The gnome yelps in pain, releasing Dipper and snatching his hat away in the process.

Mabel gasps, turning to you with a bright smile. "How'd you do that?" she asks. You stare at your hand, bewildered. "I... I don't know..."

Before either Mabel or Dipper can ask more, a tree crashes down in front of the cart. "Watch out!" you shout as Dipper swerves to avoid it. He manages to steer clear, but the sharp turn tips the cart over, sending all of you tumbling.

Groaning, you crawl out of the wrecked vehicle. "Called... it..." you mumble, slowly getting to your feet.

The ground trembles as the giant gnome monster approaches, each of its thundering steps echoing through the forest.

"Stay back, man!" Dipper shouts, grabbing a shovel and hurling it at the monster. The creature swats it away effortlessly.

The twins cling to each other in terror. You step in front of them, instinctively trying to shield them from the looming threat.

With every step the monster takes, you and the twins retreat, until you're backed against a wall.

"It's the end of the line, kids!" Jeff yells from atop the monster. "Mabel, marry us before we do something crazy!"

"Shoot..." you mutter, glancing at Mabel. "There's gotta be a way out of this..."

Mabel's gaze locks onto the monster as she carefully considers her next move. Slowly, she steps past you and Dipper, her expression firm. "I gotta do it," she says, her voice steady.

"Mabel, don't!" Dipper grabs her arm, fear evident in his eyes. "Are you crazy!?"

She doesn't waver. "Trust me," she whispers.

Dipper hesitates, about to protest, but you place a hand on his shoulder. "Hey, Dip," you murmur. "Trust her, just this once."

After a tense moment, Dipper sighs in frustration, then steps back.

Mabel offers you a grateful smile before turning to face the monster. "All right, Jeff. I'll marry you."

"Hot dog!" Jeff cheers, scrambling down the monster's side. "Help me down there, Jason! Thanks, Andy! Left foot, there we go... watch those fingers, Mike."

Jeff approaches Mabel, holding out a diamond ring with a smug grin. "Ehh? Ehh?" he says, gesturing to the jewels. Mabel kneels down, letting him slip the ring onto her finger.

"Bada-bing, bada-bam!" Jeff dances with glee. "Now that's how you get a wife! Let's head back to the forest, honey!"

Mabel admires the ring. "You may now kiss the bride," she declares.

Jeff smirks, leaning in for the kiss. "Well, don't mind if I do."

As Jeff moves closer, Mabel leans back and flicks on the leaf blower behind her, aiming it straight at him. The suction pulls him in with a whoosh.

"That's for lying to me!" Mabel shouts, cranking up the power. "And this is for breaking my heart!"

Jeff flails helplessly, yelping in pain.

You and Dipper approach, both thoroughly impressed by her quick thinking. Mabel glances over her shoulder, a sly smile forming on her lips. "And this... is for messing with my brother and my best friend."

She lifts the leaf blower and points it at the monster. "Want to do the honors, Dipper?"

Dipper grins widely. "On three."

"One, two, three!"

They launch Jeff out of the leaf blower, sending him crashing into the giant monster, scattering it in pieces.

With their leader gone, the gnomes scramble in confusion. You grab a rake leaning against the Shack and start herding the gnomes back into the forest.

Once you were sure they were all gone, you turned back and started heading in towards the Shack, Mabel had gone inside after talking with Dipper, leaving just the two of you.

"Oh- Um, Y/n!" " Dipper called out just before you reached the door, making you turn to face him. He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. "I just wanted to, uh, clear the air?"

He hesitated, glancing at you to gauge your reaction. "Since we've been stuck here, it kinda felt like we were at odds," he admitted. "But with everything that's happened - the journal and all - I figured we should..." His voice trailed off.

"But especially after today," his tone grew firmer, "you helped me when you didn't have to. If it wasn't for you, I don't know if I would've been able to get to Mabel..."

You smiled. "I get it, Dip, no need to get all mushy." He flushed, groaning a little in embarrassment. "But, honestly, you proved me wrong. You're a lot braver than you give yourself credit for."

Dipper stared at you for a moment, then smiled. "Thanks, Y/n. That... means a lot."

A comfortable silence settled between you just as Mabel popped back outside. "Come on, guys! Grunkle Stan has a present for us!"

»»————- 🪬————-««

You admire your new ring, a simple silver band etched with intricate Celtic designs. Inside, the name 𝕌ℝ𝕎𝕍𝕆ℝℍ is engraved, the letters catching the light as you turn it between your fingers.

A knock on the door pulls your attention from the ring. Shuffling around the tight space, you make it to the door and carefully open it.

"Dipper?" you ask, seeing the boy.

He nods, clutching the journal under one arm, a pen in his other hand. "Yeah, I wanted to talk about your... strange mark." You step aside, allowing him to enter, and the two of you settle on the bed.

"This started when you touched the journal?" Dipper asks, glancing at your hand. "Can you feel anything from the mark?"

You nod slowly. "Yeah, there's this constant faint buzzing sensation, and sometimes it gets really warm." Dipper jots something down in the journal, his brow furrowed.

"And do you know what triggers the warmth?"

You pause, thinking back. "It happened when Normalman first appeared - my palm started aching. And then again when we were near the gnomes."

Dipper murmurs to himself, deep in thought. "But why now? Was it the journal that set it off? Could you be some kind of psychic?" He clicks his pen repeatedly, lost in thought.

"Maybe... you have a knack for sensing the supernatural," he suggests, his voice trailing off.

You glance out the window, noticing the sun had long set, "Let's discuss this more tomorrow ok?" You suggest, "It's been a long day Dip, you should get some sleep."

Dipper frowns, trying to protest. "But-"

Before he can finish, you start nudging him toward the door. "Nope, not until I get my beauty rest," you say with a playful grin.

Despite his reluctance, you manage to push him out of the room and shut the door behind him.

"He worries too much," you mutter with a smile. With a yawn and a stretch, you make your way to your bed, sinking into the comforting embrace of the covers. As your eyes grow heavy, you're unaware of the soft glow beginning to emanate from your palm.

. . .

When you open your eyes, you find yourself standing in an empty field. The sky is a strange, burnt-orange hue, and to your surprise, you spot not one, but two suns hanging low on the horizon.

"Where... where am I?" you murmur, spinning around to take in your surroundings. Far off in the distance, you notice a figure, their entire body obscured by layers of clothing.

With nothing else to guide you, you approach the figure cautiously. "Hello?" you call out, the sound of your voice echoing slightly in the eerie stillness.

The figure jolts, turning abruptly to face you. A scarf and goggles hide their expression, but their posture is tense. "You!" he shouts, his voice sharp. "How did you get here? Who are you?"

You hesitate, glancing around once more before offering a helpless shrug. "I don't know. I just went to bed and woke up here."

He studies you closely, his gaze unnerving. After a moment, he reaches out toward you, his hand passing through your form. You blink in surprise.

"Fascinating," he mutters to himself, stepping back to examine you more. "Somehow, through your dreams, you've crossed into this place."

A strange sensation begins to ripple through you, like a tug from deep within. The man's eyes widen in alarm. "You're waking up," he whispers, almost in awe.

You glance down at yourself, watching in disbelief as your body starts to fade, the colors draining like watercolors bleeding into the paper.

"Wait!" the man calls out, suddenly frantic. "There's so much more I need to-"

But before he can finish, everything blurs, and the dream collapses in on itself.

. . .

Your eyes snap open, the soft light of morning filtering through your window. The room is still, the quiet only broken by your racing heartbeat. You lift your hand, the glow slowly fading once more.

You exhale deeply, trying to shake off the lingering sense of unease, wondering what it all could mean.

__

A/N: Wooo Gravity fall's fandom is making a comeback!! This is an old - old rewrite of a fanfic I made on google docs as a kid. Now that I can write, I figured why not revise the old thing?

[writerbugg]

Psychic In Training

Gravity Falls Reader Insert

🪬

It's summertime and your parents want you out of the house! Instead of sending you off to summer camp, they decided to send you with your two best friends down to a little sleepy town in Oregon named Gravity Falls.

Soon you realize this town is much less boring than you originally thought. Filled with old myths and new mysteries, danger lurks around every corner, you and your friends must set off to solve the mystery that is Gravity Falls.

So take a breath and prepare yourself for the adventure of a lifetime, and who knows, maybe you'll discover something about yourself along the way.

Code (You are here), Chapter 1

[writerbugg]

Good Luck

Chapter # 6 Foggy Fears

Platonic Yandere Dc x reincarnated Reader

Wattpad

Prologue, Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6 (You are here)

I realized at that moment that there are some whose dread of human beings is so morbid they yearn to see monsters of ever more horrible shapes.

- Junji Ito

(Once again, this chapter was changed quite a bit.)

!!TW!! Death, Blood, Car accident, Sudden switch from first person to second person.

*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*

'Dinner was too quiet.' Louis thought as she picked up the plates from the table, slowly bringing them to the sink.

'How could I have missed it?' She thought as she began to scrub the plate in her hand. 'She's my daughter. How could I have not seen it?'

Her grip tightened on the plate, her acrylic nails painfully dug into the plate. 'Am I such a horrible mother that I couldn't even notice my daughter ███ █████ ██?'

Snap

Louis looks down at her broken nail, a stinging pain accompanying the sudden loss of her red nail.

"Mom?"

Louis jumps, quickly turning her head and letting out a sigh of relief when she sees Jon. Placing a hand on her chest, she gives Jon a shaky smile, "Oh, Jon, be careful you almost gave your mother a heart attack."

Jon simply nods, as if not hearing his mother, "Um, Conner is... here." He muttered.

Louis's smile drops briefly before returning with a strained one, "Oh? Really? Well invite him in, it's been forever since he's come to visit."

Giving his mother a concerned look, Jon makes his way back out of the kitchen.

Louis sighs as soon as Jon leaves, running a hand through her hair.

"It's all my fault," She whispered, "It's all my fault..."

──●◎●──

The movie had ended, though Y/n barely noticed. All she could think about was how... ѳЧҭ ѳf ҁћӓГӓҁҭЭГ Clark had acted during the car ride. This wasn't the calm, happy-go-lucky superhero Y/n grew up with in the comics, he seemed so different. More stressed and less stable the Clark Kent from the comics. It all led to one thought;

If he's like this, how would he react if he found out about her reincarnation?

'I just want to go home.' Y/n ran a hand through her hair, her thoughts made her feel guilty, was she being ungrateful? Was Y/n even really Y/n? What if she just took over this Y/n's body? Was it her fault Clark's 'daughter' was gone?

What if he found out-

"Y/n? Are you ok? The credits ended a while ago." Clark's hand on Y/n's shoulder felt like fire. "Let's get going, okay?" Clark said softly, dipping his head down to look into  Y/n's eyes. "I'm sure Bruce (the prick) is anxious to have you back at the manor."

With a hesitant nod, Y/n stands up slowly. "Yeah... You're right, we should go." Clark smiles warmly, complete 180 from earlier. "Before that, I was hoping we could stop by the store on our way back." Clark rubs the back of his neck bashfully, "I might have promised your mother to get groceries while I was out, and the market is on the way to Bruces Mansion." His eyes seem to light up, "Oh! They might even have that snack you like so much! We can pick it up as well."

Y/n nods, "Yeah, I don't mind,"

Clark's smile widens, "Great! Let's get going then!"

Sighing, Y/n follows Clark to his car, 

'DC has Walmarts?' Y/n thought as she followed Clark into the supermarket.

The Walmart looked normal for the most part, there didn't seem to be too many people (probably because it was relatively late and this was still Gotham). Clark grabs a cart before heading into the supermarket, Y/n following closely behind, immediately he heads over to the dairy section browsing the milk and cream aisle.

"What's your favorite creamer?"

Looking over to Clark, Y/n raises a bow "Hmm?" she hums confused. Clark smiles, "I figured I could get some while we're here for when you go back to Bruce." 

An 'ooh' escapes Y/n's mouth before turning to get a better look at the creamers. In Y/n old life, she honestly preferred sweet things and would often put way too much creamer in her coffee, but as of late she's been enjoying less sweet things. 

"Mmm, I think I'm good for now,"  Y/n responded, not missing the way Clark frowned.

"Oh."

Clark grabs a few things before leaving, and you awkwardly follow behind him.

The rest of the shopping trip continues like this, Y/n felt like tearing her hair out, it was just so awkward and uncomfortable. Eventually, the pair ended up in the electronic section of the store.

"- game you really like!" Clark's voice bleeds into existence, breaking Y/n's train of thought. Glancing over, Y/n sees Clark holding a bootleg version of Minecraft. "Y/n? Did you hear me?" Clark frowns a bit, his eye's losing that spark again. "Y/n. I know you have a lot on your mind, but you-"

"AAHHHHHHH!!!"

You and Clark jump at the sudden scream, Clark's eyes quickly scan the store for the source of the screaming.

"OH GOD-"

"GET AWAY FROM ME!"

"THEY'RE IN MY HEAD, MAKE THEM STOP!"

More and more screams start popping up, Clark quickly pulls you close to him and you can feel your heart pounding. What was going on??

"MY SKIN IS BURNING, I'M BURNING ALIVE!"

"I'M FALLING, I CAN'T STOP FALLING!"

"SPIDERS!"

A mist seems to slowly cover the ground, screams of desperation continue to fill the air, only growing more and more unsettling.

"Shit," Clark mutters, he grips your shoulders and swiftly turns you around to face him. 

"Y/n. You need you listen to me." His voice was serious, "No matter what you see, it's not real. Do you understand? It's. Not. Real." 

Y/n's eyes widen, Fear Gas, the mist was fear gas! This was bad! Very very bad! Unlike Clark, Y/n wasn't immune which meant Y/n was about to experience the full effect of the gas.

"Y/n! Y/n just remember! It's not real- it- ot- rea-"

The world seems to blur as a burning sensation enters Y/n's lungs.

__

You sigh tiredly as you walk along the worn-down sidewalk, comic book in hand. It had been a long day, and all you wanted to do was go home and rest. Stopping at the crosswalk, you take a few glances from side to side, you never know when a truck could just barrel through you because you didn't look. 

You step onto the asphalt road.

Your heart was pounding for some strange reason, it suddenly became really hard to breathe. A loud honk rings in the air. Looking to your left, you see a dark blue truck heading towards you, its headlights illuminating a path where you were dead center.

The vehicle's driving was so erratic, you didn't know which way to run. Ultimately, whichever direction you chose didn't matter. The result would undoubtedly have been the same.

The impact was fast, you didn't feel anything at first.

It didn't last very long, though.

You lay on the asphalt road, gasping for air, trying to gain back all the air knocked out of you. That didn't do so well for your broken ribs, of course. The taste of blood indicates that some of your teeth might be missing, based on your guess.

You can't see much of your surroundings either. Aside from that dark blue truck's headlights blinding you, your vision was growing dark.

For a brief moment, you could see the man step out of his truck and go over to you. Then, everything in the world went dark.

__

"-waking up! She's waking up!" a boyish voice rings in Y/n's ear. A pounding headache seems to accompany her as she slowly sits up in her bed.

A few seconds after Clark enters her room. He looked around until he spotted the suitcase next to her closet, he went over and started to put her belongings in it.

"We are leaving." Clark states firmly, "And tomorrow you and I will be having a talk about what you saw." He seemed upset, extremely upset.

Clark... where are we going?" Y/n asked, though she already knew his answer.

"It's dad, not Clark, Y/n." That was all Clark said as he dragged you downstairs towards the manor's doors. 

Bruce was standing by the door with a perplexed look on his face. He seemed stressed and a bit frustrated. Looking over, Bruce glared at Clark, quickly walking in front of him as if to intercept him, but Clark just pushed him aside.

"Clark put her down, we need to talk about this! Her condition could get worse!" Clark ignored him and walked out the door to his car, Bruce hot on his tail.

"I don't need a man who puts his children through hell and back to lecture me or tell me how to parent my kid Bruce." Clark and put you in the car with the suitcase. Then he got in himself and started the car.

"How about you start focusing on how not to kill your own kids before you start worrying about mine"

──●◎●──

Jon gasps. This... this couldn't be right. It was... no it was impossible! But... it was, it was here and it was possible. This changes everything...

──●◎●──

𝚆𝚎𝚕𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚝𝚘 𝚁𝚎𝙶𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚒𝚜 𝙴𝚡𝚙𝚎𝚍𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝙸𝚗𝚌. 𝚆𝚎 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚐𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚏𝚞𝚕 𝚝𝚘 𝚒𝚗𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚖 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚋𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚍.

𝚂𝙾𝙼𝙴 𝙾𝙽𝙴 𝙺𝙽𝙾𝚆𝚂!!!

█████ 𝙺𝙽𝙾𝚆𝚂!

*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*

TagList - @blublock404 @no-sleep-for-insomniacs @rosecentury

[writerbugg]

I was just watching an Epic Micky edit and couldn’t help but draw some parallels to Twisted Wonderland.

The blots - Ink

The wizards mirror “causing mischief”

ALSO!! Look at this!!

The mirrors are the same!!! And so is the vanity setup!!

My theory is that TW and Epic Micky are connected in someway, maybe? 🤔

[writerbugg]

DON’T IGNORE

Free Palestine

Those who turn a blind eye to injustice are just as guilty as those who commit it.

- Blind Eye

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

genocide

noun

the deliberate killing of a large number of people from a particular nation or ethnic group with the aim of destroying that nation or group.

I don't like using my platform for anything political. But this far past political they are massacring innocent civilians.

[writerbugg]

Child of Bone

Platonic rotg x child reader

Prologue # Welcome Young Soul

Prolonge

Oh, man in the moon, send an evening star to wink at my dreary eyes, and I shall make a wish for a peaceful world that spins with no more lies.

- Richelle E. Goodrich

Reader will be referred to as Yu instead of Y/n. If there's any objections with that tell me I have no objections if you don't like it.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Light.

That's the first thing they remembered seeing.

A short man wandered around a bright corridor, a sad smile on his face as he made his way to the bright, glowing soul in the center of the room.

The man had the strangest look about him. He was short and wore a white suit with a red bow. His hair looked like a single strand of silken silver, standing upright and folding into a swirl at the end.

Tsar Lunar XII was his name, though he had several names: Manny, Manfred, and Man in Moon.

He was the bringer of wishes, the light that kept darkness at bay, and once a prince of a fallen kingdom. But right now, he was the guide tasked with awakening the next guardian.

Tsar approached the soul, gently taking the orb into his hands. His smile grew sadder, such a young soul, and tasked with such a large burden.

If it were up to him, he wouldn't have chosen this young soul, but sadly, some things are not up to him to decide.

"Hello young soul," He spoke softly, his hands glowed as he embedded some of his magic into the young soul attempting to awaken it, "it's time to awaken from your slumber."

The soul seemed to react to this, slowly lifting into the air, and growing brighter until in one bright flash the orb expanded.

Colors unknown to mortal eyes danced across the room, weaving a tapestry of shimmering blues, majestic purples, and radiant golds. Each hue seemed to tell a story of the soul's life.

Brilliance engulfed everything forcing Tsar to close his eyes as the light cast all shadows into oblivion. For a fleeting moment, time itself seemed to stand still, light shifted all around, like a star that had just been born, before it all condensed inwards.

Tsar opened his eyes, surprise and wonder in his gaze as he was not expecting such a spectacular spectacle, his gaze soon fell onto the child that now stood in the center of the room.

The child stared at Tsar with as much surprise and wonder as Tsar's. The child was adorned in white silks that almost seemed to glow, their eyes, they were the most beautiful shade of (e/c), and their hair were of similar color to Tsar himself, most likely a result of his magic.

The child tore their gaze away from Tsar, slowly taking in their surroundings. The room was bright, but it didn't hurt their eyes. Confusion filled them yet they did not panic, somehow they knew they were safe.

Tsar stepped closer, catching the child's attention. "Hello young soul," he began, "I am Tsar, but you may refer to me as Manfred." Tsar gave the child a warm yet sad smile as he gifted her a cloak and a lantern "And you are Yu."

Tsar softly patted the child's head his smile never leaving his face, yet he looked anything but happy, he looked terribly sad.

"I am so terribly sorry to gift such a young soul like you with this burden." He apologized to Yu sorrowfully. "While you fill this role you will never age, not psychically mentally, or emotionally. You are forever stuck as a child." He bowed his head, as if in shame.

Tsar gently sighed, "I can not do much for you once you are on earth, so I gift you this amulet."

Nestled within the embrace of intricate filigree silver lay a small, unassuming white stone. Smooth to the touch, its surface glows softly with an otherworldly luminescence, reminiscent of moonlight caught within earthly confines. The silver weaved intricate patterns, each delicate curve and swirl tells a story of craftsmanship. It was tethered to leather and placed around Yu's neck.

"This will shield you from harm, as well as disguise you. As long as you wear it, only those who are truly ready to pass on will see you for who you truly are."

Yu's form twisted as a magical veil fell over them, they grew taller as their (s/c) skin faded into pale bone.

Tsar reached into his jacket and soon pulled out a lantern, crafted from polished brass, its old body is a testament to time's gentle caress. "I also gift you this lantern, for wherever you may be, this lantern will guide you to where you need to go."

"You have been tasked with guiding souls to rest," Tsar told them. "From now on, you will be known as Yu Grim, guardian of souls long passed."

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

☆ Thousands of years later. ☆

The air hung heavy with sorrow as the young boy watched from a distance, his heart aching as he observed his mother's tear-streaked face as she leaned over his body, softly begging him to wake up.

Amidst the somber atmosphere, a figure approached beside him. Time around them seemed to stop.  Turning his head, the boy spots a young child cloaked in black standing beside him. "You..." The boy couldn't explain it, but somehow he just knew who they were.

"Are you... are you here for me?" the boy whispered.

Yu gives the boy a solemn nod. "Yes. It is time for you to depart from this realm and journey to the afterlife."

The boy glanced back at his mother, his heart-wrenching at the sight of her anguish. "But... can't I stay? She needs me. She's all alone now."

Yu's gaze softened, "I understand your desire to comfort her, but your time in the mortal world has ended. It is a part of the cycle of life."

Tears welled up in the boy's eyes as he struggled to accept the truth. "I don't want to leave her. I don't want her to hurt anymore."

With a gentle touch, Yu placed a hand on the boy's shoulder, their touch surprisingly warm considering they were a spirit themselves. "She will carry your memory in her heart, and though the pain may never fully fade, she will find solace in the love you shared."

As the boy turned to look at his mother one last time, he felt a sense of peace wash over him, mingled with the bittersweet knowledge that he would never again feel her embrace or hear her laughter.

Yu takes the boy's hand, lifting their lantern watching as the flame within it points them to their destination.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

I'm feeling sad, so you guys have to feel it too. This is a short chapter, but I promise much longer chapters in the future.

PS I'm purposely making the age vague, so Yu's real age is mostly on your perspective, just know that they died when they were young.

[writerbugg]

POV you have a headache because you forgot to drink water for three months 😩💦✨

[writerbugg]

Good Luck

Chapter # 5 Cinematic

Platonic Yandere Dc x reincarnated Reader

Wattpad

Prologue, Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5 (You are here), Chapter 6

The whole tradition of cinema is dominated, really, by films about good guys versus bad guys, good versus evil. But we have very few films about the nature of evil itself. - Joshua Oppenheimer

*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*

Jon lies on his bed, staring at nothing in particular. It had been a few weeks since Y/n went with the Waynes, and he had to admit, the apartment felt empty without her.

Shifting around, Jon reaches for the picture frame on his nightstand. A soft smile spreads on his face as he looks at a seven-year-old Y/n standing with the Justice League, a contagious smile on her face.

"I wonder what she's doing now.."

──●◎●──

Y/n stands at the front doors of the manor, watching as Clark pulls into the driveway, discomfort bubbling in her gut.

Something told her this meeting wasn't going to go well.

"Y/n!" Clark quickly exited his car, rushing to Y/n and scooping her into his arm. "Oh Y/n, I'm sorry the others couldn't come and visit. They were too busy with work and school, but if the chance arises, I'll make sure they make it next time." Clark reassured the girl.

"Oh uh, that's good, thanks," Y/n muttered, leaving Clark's grip.

Clark frowns at Y/n's distant behavior, shooting a look at Bruce before smiling again. "I'm here to spend time with you Y/n, maybe try and jog your memory..." He reaches into his pocket and grabs two movie tickets. "See! I got us tickets to your favorite movie!"

Y/n takes one of these tickets. 'The Incredibles' strangely fits in this world.

A sigh resonates from behind Y/n, Bruce frowning at the two of them. "Clark, you know I can't let you do that. It's too soon to be trying anything yet."

Clark glares harshly at Bruce, "I don't see how you can stop me Wayne, and I'm pretty sure I know what's best for my kid."

Grabbing Y/n's hand, Clark drags her back to his car, ignoring Bruce's protest.

Clark makes Y/n sit in the front seat before going around the front and entering the driver's side. As if trying to comfort her, Clark gives Y/n a side hug as he leaves the Wayne manors driveway.

──●◎●──

Minutes go by in uncomfortable silence, the radio station humming some random song quietly, the low hum of the car engine filling the space between them. Clark, gripped the steering wheel tightly, his eyes darting from the road to Y/n. She was staring blankly out the window, her fingers tracing invisible patterns on the glass.

"Y/n," Clark began, "I know you don't remember, but the last time we went to the movies together was your 13th birthday. You wanted to see the Incredibles then."

Y/n frowned, a knot forming in her stomach, guilt filling her, though she didn't know why.

"I thought... maybe if we watched it again, it might help jog some memories," he continued, the words coming out in a rush. "It's always been your favorite. You'd watch it over and over, even when I begged for something else." He let out a strained chuckle that seemed to contradict the radio's happy tunes.

Y/n didn't answer, continuing to look out the window at the passing buildings. Clark's heart ached with a dull, relentless throb. His mind raced back to the days before whatever this was stole his daughter away. He remembered her laughter, her curiosity, the way she would pepper him with questions about everything and anything.

Now, Y/n couldn't even look at him. Desperation gnawed at him, a dark shadow lurking at the edges of his mind. He needed to bring her back. He needed to see that spark in her eyes again, to hear her laugh, to know that she was still there, somewhere beneath that cold, nervous expression.

As they drove, Clark glanced at the rearview mirror, catching sight of his reflection. Lines on his face seemed deeper, his eyes hollow. He barely recognized himself. The effort of holding it all together was tearing him apart, piece by piece.

"Remember the time we went camping?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "You caught your first fish, and you were so excited you almost fell into the lake." He chuckled again, but it quickly turned into a choked sob. He bit down on his lip, hard, tasting blood.

Y/n gasped, "Clark-"

"Dad," he corrected sharply, his tone laced with frustration. "Call me Dad, Y/n."

Clark almost immediately regretted the sharpness in his voice as Y/n recoiled slightly, a look of guilt crossing her features.

"I-I'm sorry, sweetheart," Clark stammered, reaching out to touch her hand. "It's just... I want us to be a family again. I want... I want you to remember."

His heart almost completely shattered when Y/n moved her hand away.

The radio continued to play its happy tunes as the two sat in silence.

...

The car pulled into the parking lot of the movie theater, the neon lights flickering to life. Clark turned off the engine and sat there for a moment, gathering his thoughts.

"We're going to get through this," he said, more to himself than to her. "I promise you, Y/n. We'll find a way."

──●◎●──

Chapter 6

A/n: Sad times :,) Anyways, guess who's out of school AHHHHHHHH!!! And guess who's also going on a trip to EUROPE!!! AHHHH!!! I'm so excited y'all.

@rosecentury

[writerbugg]

Good Luck

Chapter # 4 As Sweet as Sugar Cookies

Platonic Yandere Dc x reincarnated Reader

Wattpad

Prologue, Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4 (You are here), Chapter 5, Chapter 6

Just a spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down. - Mary Poppins

*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*

"No," Tim says crossing his arms. "I have homework to catch up on, I can't play Minecraft with you right now."

Y/n frowns, "But Tim," she whines "Everyone else is busy, and I'm booored!" She complained while tugging at his shirt.

The boy rolls his eye at the young girl's antics, "Fine if I play with you, will you leave me alone?" Y/n nodded furiously.

With a tired sigh, Tim leaves his desk, picking up the game chip. "Thirty minutes, max, you got it?"

Y/n laughs happily, running out of his room and down to the lounging room. Tim smiles, a familiar warmth filling his chest.

_

Tim opens his eyes slowly, the early morning sky peeking through the curtains to greet him. A dream, a memory, a mix of both. Tim groans, what a mess this whole situation was.

Slowly, he lifted himself out of bed, checking his phone to see what time it was.

5:34 am

He let out another tired groan, it was too early to be awake. Sadly, he knew falling back asleep would be impossible. Slipping on some sweatpants, Tim makes his way to the kitchen to brew some coffee.

He makes it to the kitchen, tiredly grabbing the coffee grounds from the cabinet, and making his way to the coffee machine.

Tim watches the coffee slide into his mug, the smell of coffee filling the kitchen, before walking back to the cabinet to get some sugar. While he would usually drink his coffee black, he was in the mood for something sweet.

"Can I borrow the sugar when you're done?" A groggy voice asked him.

Tim jumps, swiftly turning around to see who spooked him. Y/n stands behind him with a bowl of Cheerios.

"..."

"..."

Tim sighed, dragging a hand down his face. "Why are you up this early?" Y/n shrugged, "Couldn't sleep." She answered.

Frowning, Tim walks back over to the coffee machine, which has stopped brewing. Y/n watches, frowning at his lack of answering, before following.

He puts two spoons of sugar into his coffee, stirring it thoroughly, then passes Y/n the sugar. She mumbles a quiet thank you, putting a little bit of sugar in her cheerios.

Tim and Y/n sit with each other, quietly enjoying the silent Manor.

──●◎●──

It was early afternoon, and Y/n was sneaking some of the cookies Alfred had made. They were heavenly, light, and sweet, the chocolate rich and smooth.

Jason enters the kitchen, clearing his voice, and catching Y/n's attention. "Looks like I've caught a little thief," Jason smirked, Y/n giving him a wide-eyed look, knowing she was caught red-handed.

"...You can have Dick's portion if you don't tell."

Jason laughs, before nodding, "OK, deal." He walks over to Y/n, taking a cookie and biting into it. "Mmm~ They are as good as I remember." Jason chuckles, "Plus, Dick has enough sweets, I'm sure he won't mind me taking some of his."

"Oh? Really now?"

Y/n and Jason look at each other before turning around slowly facing the eldest Wayne. He had a smile on his face that didn't reach his eyes.

"You think I've had enough sweets? Can't help but feel like you're implying something, Jaybird."

Y/n makes a break for it, leaving Jason behind. "Wha- You Traitor!!" Jason yells as Y/n makes her getaway.

While running Y/n bumps into Damien, causing both of them to stumble. "What the- why are you running around the mansion? You're supposed to be with Alfred." Damion glares at Y/n, annoyed. She bashfully rubs the back of her head, "I was running from Dick," she admits, "speaking of which, do you know any hiding spots? I think I can hear him coming, he must have finished off Jason." Rest in peace Jason... again.

Damion deadpanned, "Seriously?" He blandly questioned. He grumbled when Y/n nodded, a pleading look in her eyes. Dick has been annoying him recently. So, Damien supposes helping Y/n would be a good way to get back at him. Nodding, he helps Y/n up. "I've got some places for you to hide. Follow me."

──●◎●──

Y/n and Damion hid in a small crawl space behind one of the larger paintings for around twenty minutes.

Sadly, Dick is very set on finding Y/n, so twenty minutes was not enough hiding time.

"I got you Y/n!" Dick picked Y/n up, a squeal escaping her as he spins her around. "I'm going to get you back for eating my cookies," he said playfully while carrying Y/n to the living room. Throwing her onto the couch, then trapping her in a hug.

"Let me go." She whined, trying to get out of his grip. Dick smiles, laughing at Y/n's misery, "No, you ate my cookies. Now you must pay the ultimate price." He cackled evilly.

Y/n frowned, "And here I thought you were a hero who believed in mercy." She said, giving him a betrayed and disappointed look, and making him laugh.

Bruce enters the room with a serious look on his face, instantly killing the mood. He looks at Y/n and Dick, before talking.

"Y/n, Clark is here to visit you."

──●◎●──

@rosecentury

Chapter 5

[writerbugg]

Good Luck

Chapter # 3 Let Dead Men Tell Tales.

Platonic Yandere Dc x reincarnated Reader

I made this a bit ago so have mercy :,)

Wattpad

Prologue, Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3 (You are here), Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6

Can't repeat the past?... Why of course you can! - Gatsby

TW - Smoking, Addiction

*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*

Jason tilts his head, confused by Y/n's response. "You don't remember me? Is this some kind of prank?" He frowned, crossing his arms. Y/n nervously shifts under the older man's gaze, "You can ask Bruce, he's the one who brought me here."

Frown deepening, Jason sighs. "Of course, the old man doesn't tell me shit." He grumbled. "So you don't remember me at all?" He asked, and Y/n shakes her head.

"Hm, maybe that's for the best," he muttered under his breath. He ruffles Y/n's hair before turning to leave. "I'm going to have a little talk with Bruce." He said ominously.

Well, that sounds fun.

Watching him leave, Y/n can't help but continue to wonder what her relationship with this family was. Jason and Tim seemed to be somewhat fond of her, and Damien, well he was hard to read but he seemed to know her.

Turning back to the shelves, Y/n realizes that Jason forgot to help her get the book.

"Aw, man..."

──●◎●──

It was late and Y/n (reluctantly) went to Jason's room. She was able to sleep some, waking up only a little bit earlier and not being able to fall back asleep.

"Miss Kent? Are you awake? Bruce wants me to escort you to his office." Alfred's voice drew Y/n out of the book she had snatched from the library. She was awake, she's been awake since 3:00. 

(Why may you ask? I don't know, why are you reading this at 2:00 am hm? Or are you bench-watching some show again?)

Putting the bookmark in, Y/n slides out of bed following Alfred to Bruce's office. Once again, she can't help but admire the beautiful architecture of the mansion. There was a good mix of old Victorian architecture and modernism. They blended well, creating a tasteful style. Paintings were far from few, some looking to be quite old.

"Here we are, Miss. Kent, Master Bruce, and Young Master Richard are waiting for you." Y/n nods, entering the room. Alfred softly shut the door behind her.

"So you can tell blue bird over here, but not me?"

"Jason, please, not right now."

Y/n could feel the tension immediately. In front of her stood Jason and Dick arguing with each other, Bruce was sitting behind a desk trying to calm the massive headache forming.

Dick was wearing a dark blue dress shirt that complimented his deep blue eyes, as well as some dress pants. He was the first to notice Y/n, "Oh! Y/n you're here!" He smiled, his previous frustration gone.

"Uh... yeah." She muttered plainly. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything." Dick shakes his head, walking over to you. "Nope, we just finished talking," his gaze sharpened, "right Jason?"

Jason's first clenched tightly, glaring at his older brother. "For now."

Dick smiles at Jason for a second before he goes back to looking at Y/n. "Hi Y/n, my name is Richard, but you can call me Dick." He gives you a little wave. "I've been informed you no longer remember anything." His expression dampened, "that must be terrifying for you." He gently patted her hair.

Bruce stands, clearing his throat to get everyone's attention. "I'm sorry for calling you all here so late, but I need you all to be informed about how we will be proceeding for the next month."

──●◎●──

Y/n returns to her room, a somber feeling accompanying her. This was it, wasn't it? She was really stuck in the DC universe. Her chest ached as she remembered her life, a life of a college student, just trying to make it to finals week.

Her friends, her colleagues in that crappy job she hated. Her mother and father who, despite their money situation, supported her dream and helped her get into college. 

Tears well up in Y/n eyes. "I want to go home," she whispered to no one. She wipes her eyes quickly, not wanting to cry, and slips out the book she was reading. 

'Reincarnation of the Soul'

──●◎●──

Dick falls onto his bed with a deep sigh, exhausted by today's travel. Starfire wasn't entirely happy with him up and leaving without much explanation, luckily she was understanding with him.

Y/n... he remembers her when she was just a little kid. He remembers babysitting her and Jon, and her tagging along whenever Jon came over for a sleepover with Damien. 

He remembers when Clark got seriously injured while Louis was away and having to take Y/n in for a few months. She was just the sweetest thing, and she came over so often it was like having another little sister.

Not that she remembers any of that now. Dick frowns, all those years, are just gone. How could something like this happen? It was just awful.

──●◎●──

Jason curses under his breath, that old shit had no right to keep something like this from him. And Dick, that was a prick move he pulled back there. 

Taking a deep break, Jason slips a packet of cigarettes out of his pocket. Opening it, he takes one out using his teeth, with a flick of his lighter, a tiny flame danced into existence. He brought the flame to the tip of the cigarette, inhaling deeply as the tobacco ignited with a soft hiss.

As the smoke filled his lungs, Jason closed his eyes, letting the tension of the day evaporate with each exhale. The bitter tang of nicotine lingered on his tongue, a familiar comfort.

He had promised Y/n to stop smoking before the incident. Jason still remembers the look on her face when she first saw him smoking, a small smile on his face as he remembers a seven-year-old Y/n scolding him.

"Master Jay, I'm surprised you're still here." Jason opens his eyes, looking over to the right where Alfred stood, wise as ever. "I suppose the meeting didn't go well?" Alfred inquired making Jason chortle, "What gave that away?"

Alfred shakes his head, "Well, as much as I enjoy your presence at the Manor, I do prefer if you'd not smoke," He points to the window above Jason's head, "Especially right outside a guest's window." Alfred smiled before turning and leaving.

With a resigned sigh, Jason takes the cigarette and drops it to the floor, crushing the butt beneath his heel, extinguishing the last remnants of his temporary sanctuary. 

──●◎●──

Chapter 4

[writerbugg]

Good Luck

Chapter # 2 Welcome to the Mansion

Platonic Yandere Dc x reincarnated Reader

I made this a bit ago so have mercy :,)

Wattpad

Prologue, Chapter 1, Chapter 2 (You are Here), Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6

The only thing I like about rich people is their money. - Nancy Astor

*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*

"Welcome back Master Bruce. Oh? I see you brought a guest with you."

Bruce and Y/n arrived at the mansion, the air around them a little lighter with Alfred there. Y/n takes a quick look around, admiring the large building.

"Alfred, can you call Richard and tell him I need to see him tonight?" Bruce asks as he guides Y/n into the mansion. "I need to introduce them to our guests."

She follows Bruce, shooting Alfred a smile on her way in, and Alfred returns the smile with one of his own.

──●◎●──

Bruce takes Y/n over to the dining hall, where food was already prepared and set on the table. The food looked heavenly from the medium rare steak to the soft fluffy mashed potatoes.

There were already two boys sitting at the table, enjoying the meal prepared. A shorter boy with tan skin and black spiked hair who looked to be around Jon's age (17-18), and a taller boy with a paler complexion and flatter hair, looked like a young college student (20-21).

Damien and Tim.

Tim glances up, hearing familiar footsteps of his father, but does a double take when he sees Y/n walking alongside him.

"Bruce, why's Y/n here? Don't tell me you convinced Clark to allow her to become a Robin." Bruce looked over at Tim with a stern face, not finding what Tim said funny.

"No. She's here because she mysteriously lost her memories this morning." Both boys give Bruce looks of disbelief. "Clark believes that this memory loss is targeted." Bruce finished.

Tim looks at Y/n, curious. "Wait, you actually don't remember us?"

She shakes her head, "No, sorry." A silence hangs over everyone while Bruce and Y/n both take their seat.

The food was good, but the mood in the room ruined it. It was tense, and Y/n could feel eyes boring into her, what kind of relationship did she have with the Wayne family? Clark didn't seem to be fond of them, but they seemed to know her.

Did something happen between Clark and Bruce recently?

"Y/n," Bruce interrupts Y/n's internal thoughts. "Most of the rooms here are taken, so for the next month you'll be staying in Jason's old room."

...are you fucking serious.

──●◎●──

After a quick tour, Bruce had split off, allowing Y/n to continue by herself. She had wandered over the library and decided that some light reading would be a welcomed distraction.

Looking at a few shelves, Y/n spots ' The Great Gatsby ', a classic from where she comes from. Y/n gets on her toes, trying to reach it, but fails. Gods, she already misses being adult height.

"Need help kid?"

Y/n swirls around, looking to see who was talking to her. A much taller man with a brown leather jacket and black hair with a splotch of white in it stood behind her, his green eyes were piercing, so vibrant and... alive.

"Oh," Y/n muttered to herself. This must be Jason. He smiled and lowered himself to her level (The audacity) and smiled at Y/n.

"Something wrong Y/n? You look like you've spotted a ghost."

──●◎●──

Bruce runs his hands through his hair as he stares at the computer. He should have known this would happen.

Picking up a file, he looks through the blueprints inside of it. He doesn't have a lot of time, Clark was going to get suspicious soon, and if this is interrupted then they will lose everything.

"Please, forgive me Y/n. I swear I only do this to protect you."

──●◎●──

Chapter 3

[writerbugg]

Echoes of Devotion’

A Ninjago Story

Yandere Kai Smith x Male Reader

A sneak peek into something I’m working on. This is a rough, rough draft.

Summary: An over worked traveling doctor who just moved back into the trouble infested city named Ninjago because of a job offer with Borg Tech. meets fiery hot headed ninja while a random villain attacks the city?

What could possibly go wrong?

Yesterday, today, tomorrow, They are not consecutive. They are connected in a never-ending circle, Everything is Connected

- The Stranger

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

The sound of traffic filled the night air, a strange calmness settling over the usually rampant city. M/n sits outside on the apartment fire escape, his legs dangling over the edge as he gazes at the sleepless city.

It was late summer, the air was hot with excitement and life, no one could sleep on nights like these.

M/n had heard all kinds of stories about Ninjago City since he moved, from snake attacks to Overlord takeovers, this city has been through it all. Resting his head on the fire escape railing, M/n allows his eyes to close, peacefully enjoying the night air.

Nights like these temporarily make M/n forget about his troubles, a moment of escape before he inevitably gets dragged down again by the reality of his situation.

A soft buzzing interrupts M/n's thoughts, pulling him back to reality. M/n pulls his phone out and flips it open to check the caller.

"Dad..." M/n's expression softens a bit as he sees the familiar face of his father, an older gentleman with peppered hair and a wise old look in his hazelnut eyes.

M/n accepts the call, gingerly putting the phone up to his ear. "Dad? What are you doing calling me at this hour?" M/n's voice was soft, barely above a whisper.

He patiently listened to the call, nodding now and then.

"I don't mind, I'm right next to the coffee shop, I can pick up a few pastries for you and Mom for tomorrow." M/n reassures his father. "I'll let you go and start heading over there now."

M/n hangs up the phone, silence blessing him once more. He pauses momentarily, enjoying the peaceful atmosphere, before standing up and leaving the fire escape.

❛ ━━･❪ ❁ ❫ ･━━ ❜

M/n travels down the street, making his way to the local coffee shop. Eternal Espresso Emporium was its name, it was open 24 hours, which was something M/n could appreciate.

Reaching the small cafe, M/n quietly enters the shop, the bell atop the door ringing softly, announcing his presence. There was no one there except the barista, a young girl by the look of it.

Approaching the girl, wallet in hand, M/n's eyes glance over the pastries on display. "...I'll take three Pain au Chocolat please." He softly spoke, "And a lavender latte." lazily, his eyes drifted up to the girl, who was staring at him with a faint blush in her cheeks.

"Is something wrong?" M/n asks. The barista jolts in surprise, "Oh-! Um no- sorry," her cheeks glow red from embarrassment as she quickly turns to prepare his order.

M/n raised a brow but lets it go, deciding to take a closer look around the shop instead. The place was small but cozy, warm lights hung from the ceiling which was decorated with fake leaves, all of which were some shade of orange, yellow, and red.

The place sort of gave a cozy autumn feeling. The tables were made from wood, resembling tree trunks, and couches with yellow and copper color schemes accompanied the tables.

"Here's your order sir." M/n looked back over to the barista who was now holding a small box and a well-decorated coffee box. "Ah, right, thank you." He takes the box and coffee out of the employee's hand.

There's another ring, alerting everyone that someone else has entered the shop. M/n looks over, curious about who else was here this late at night.

A dark red hoodie was the first thing M/n saw.

The boy had warm brown hair that was spiked, it was odd but strangely fit him. His eyes were a reddish brown around his pupil with a darker chocolate brown color surrounding it. He had a scar on his eyebrow, giving him a rough look, as well as a few other scars on his hands.

"I'm here for a pickup under Kai." The boy in the red hood announced.

[writerbugg]

Good Luck

Platonic Yandere Dc x reincarnated Reader

I made this a bit ago so have mercy :,)

Wattpad

Summary : Y/n, who recently taken an interest in the DC universe, finds themself in that very universe after a little roadkill accident.

Prologue, Chapter # 1 (you are here), Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6

Never feel guilty for starting again. - Rupi Kaur

*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*

It had been a few hours since Y/n had awoken, she felt like she was in shock. She could remember walking back to her dorm from the public library. She had picked a random comic from the comic section, deciding to venture from her usual picks.

She could remember the bright headlights barreling towards her, the pain, her breath slowly slipping from her...

Y/n doesn't know is she can look at a truck the same way again.

"What do you think could've caused this Lois? She was completely fine yesterday." A man with inky black hair and deep blue eyes paced around the kitchen, his brows furrowed in frustration.

The woman next to him, Louis, placed a hand on his shoulder, trying to comfort her husband. "I don't know Clark, it's strange."

Y/n sucks in a breath, she was in the DC universe.

──●◎●──

'...I didn't even get to finish playing through Fnaf.' Y/n thought as she watched her 'parents' talk. Sighing, Y/n recounted her situation, she could remember her past life perfectly, but she drew a blank when she tried to remember anything from this life.

In all honesty Y/n was on the verge of a panic attack, still coming to grips with the fact she died. Not only that, but out of all the universes to be reincarnated in, Y/n was reborn into one of the most dangerous universes out there. Why couldn't she just be reincarnated in a chick flick?

Louis had her arm around Y/n, holding her close and trying to comfort her. She was saying something to Y/n, though nothing really registered.

Justifiably, Y/n didn't feel like talking to anyone.

Clark sat down in front of you, gently taking your hands in his hands. "Y/n, can you tell us what could have happened? Anything at all?" Y/n shakes her head no. She chose not to mention her past life, something in her gut told her to keep it to herself.

Clark sighed disappointedly, "I guess I'll have to call Bruce." He seemed grimace when he mentioned Bruce's name.

That's never a good sign.

──●◎●──

"What do you mean 'No' Bruce!?" Clark yelled at the billionaire, who was trying to calm down and reason with the hero.

"Clark, I just think you're going a little overboard, let me take her back to Gotham. I can use my computers and resources that are stored in the bat cave to figure out what's wrong." Bruce explained. "We don't need to summon the Justice League for this." Bruce's brow furrowed at the stubbornness of the alien.

Off to the side Y/n watched the interaction with morbid curiosity. Though you agreed that calling up the Justice League was a bit... over the top. It was still strange how Bruce seems reluctant to interact with the Justice League in general.

Wonder why that is.

Clark runs a hand through his hair, obviously frustrated. "Why would I let my daughter go to Gotham, for all I know, this is some excuse to experiment on her kryptonian side. Find out more weaknesses," he all but snarled, "or get her killed, just like Jason!"

Clark pinched the bridge of his nose. "I can't trust her with you, not after..." He shakes his head, turning away from Bruce.

Louis had left your side to talk with Clark, allowing Jon to take her place.

There's some silence, before Jon decides to speak. "...I think you should go." He says. Y/n tilts her head towards him, brow raised. "I gave a friend there, Damien." Jon begins, "he's told me all about Bruce, I think they can help you."

Jon blushes a bit, "Plus, Damien is the most trustworthy guy I know, if you ever need help, he'll be there."

Footsteps approach you both from behind, turning to look, you both see an irritated Clark approaching you. "Well, she doesn't have a choice. She isn't going." He huffed.

"..."

"Clark, do you want her to get the best treatment or not?" Surprisingly, Lois spoke up this time. Sighing, she took Clark's hand.

"Bruce won't betray our trust, plus she'll be in one of the most protected places in Gotham, getting the best treatment she could ever get. I think we should let Bruce take her until we figure out what, or... who caused this."

──●◎●──

Y/n and Bruce sit in silence.

──●◎●──

Chapter 2