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valaruakars · 2 years

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Good Intent

Viktor/F!Reader || 4k || NSFW

After a particularly shit day of losing your job and ugly crying about it, Viktor cares only to help you feel better. Your idea of a distraction from your problems is unconventional and quite unexpected, but, well, he’s happy to oblige.

Warnings: Hurt/(spicy)comfort, she/her pronouns used, fluff, established relationship, Tender Czech™, hair pulling, teasing, grinding, more unsafe PIV (my speciality, thanks), and what could possibly? be interpreted as breeding kink at the end

A/N: Hi hello this was a very specific gift/request for someone special and I was happy with how it turned out, so I’m releasing it into the wild :)

At this hour, he expects to find you at home.

And you must be, with your shoes kicked off by the door and your keys thrown on the kitchen counter. You are usually so quick to greet him, even if it’s just a smile and a quiet hello as you glance up from whatever work you’ve taken home. But it’s quiet, save for the ambient hum of the building, and growing darker with all the lights left off.

He treads toward the bedroom, as lightly as he’s able, but the crutch beneath his arm hits harder against the wood floor than he’d like. He hopes it won’t wake you. You must be asleep. The thought is soft as your skin, twice as inviting, and tempts him to forget about dinner, forget about what work he’s taken home. He would rather curl up beside you, if you’ve left room enough for two.

With the last light of day bleeding orange through the windows, he comes to the threshold to see that you are not, in fact, miming a starfish in your sleep or sprawled at a diagonal across the entire bed. Instead, you have formed a small lump beneath the blankets, curled in on yourself. Something about it is inherently sad, and a little out of character.

He calls your name gently, just above a whisper when he notices the halo of crumpled tissues scattered around your bundled body. Curious, since you seemed fine this morning, but if you are sick, he’d rather not disturb you. And, truthfully, he’d rather not catch what you have either.

But you’re awake, it seems, by the rustling and sniveling and great, shuddering sigh that comes from beneath the blankets.

“Miláček…” he coaxes, wading hesitantly closer, “What plague have you brought home, hm?”

“Don’t worry,” you assure him, though your rasping voice is dry and humorless, “Unemployment isn’t contagious.” And with that you emerge, sitting up amongst a small avalanche of tissues and blankets, wearing his biggest sweater.

Usually he feels a boyish, flattered warmth to see you wear his clothes, but not this time. Not when you are such a miserable thing, with tear-streaked cheeks and puffy eyes, ringed in red. The swelling is fresh, and no amount of wiping at your eyes with your sleeves will force it down or hide it from sight.

Maybe it’s the level of scrutiny he’s looking at you with—accidentally, of course!—trying to puzzle out your current state, or the way he’s too blunt in asking, “What happened?”

Your lower lip wobbles and your face is quick to collapse into grief again, your shoulders shaking with the force of trying to hush your sobs behind your hand. You’re a mess, but it doesn’t matter to him. It only matters why and therefore how he can make it better, because it rends his heart, to see yours so broken.

He hastens to sit at the edge of the bed, leaning his crutch and taking your free hand into both of his. It’s encouraging, that you scoot closer and lean your forehead into his shoulder, even if you don’t stop crying. That’s fine. You could blow your nose into his shirt for all he cares. Whatever you need. You’ll stop when you’re ready.

“You don’t have to tell me about it now,” he says to the crown of your head, wisps of your hair unsettled by his breath. He smoothes them down gently, leaving a hand to cradle the back of your neck, that vulnerable part of you, like it might protect you from further harm. “Only when you’re ready, and I will listen.”

He feels your weak nod against his shoulder, the way you squeeze his hand a little tighter. Of course he’s curious to know the details of your heartbreak, what pieces he can mend, but he knows it’s better to be patient. You are so rarely this fragile, and each time he worries that he might mishandle you—damage you or your relationship irredeemably. He often feels it’s a stroke of luck rather than a stroke of genius when he finds the right thing to say. It’s more natural to know the right thing to do. It’s very hard to fuck up a hug or a helpful offer.

When your sniffling begins to quiet, the sleeve of his shirt thoroughly wet, he draws in a long, decisive breath and asks: “Would you like water? Or coffee? There might be leftovers too, if you’re hungry…?”

Something in your body pops, joints stiff, as you sit up and pointedly look anywhere but at his face. His thumb brushes over your knuckles; a prompt, a grounding gesture. “…Coffee,” you finally grate out, swiping at your runny nose, “Please.”

“Of course,” he says obligingly, giving your hand a final squeeze before he stands and does your bidding in a hurry.

As he returns, cup in hand sloshing a bit dangerously, he can’t help a thin smile. You’ve been considerate enough to dump all your tissues in a pile on the nightstand, and kind enough to yourself to run a brush through the mats in your hair. You’ve even turned on the lamp, so there will be no more crying in the dark. An improvement, to be sure, though he can see now that your eyes will likely be puffy into tomorrow from the extent of your devastation. You must’ve been crying for a long time, and for that he feels the stinging wash of guilt knowing that most of it was spent alone.

“For you,” he offers, a gentle reminder to be careful as you take it and he sinks down astride the bed. Begins the ritual shedding of the layers he wears, heavy fabric and heavier metal, while you take scalding sips and pretend they don’t burn your tongue. The way you squint gives it away, but apparently you are determined. Just as he’s determined to wait in comfortable silence, perfectly occupied with undressing, until you’re ready to talk. Because you will. You always do, eventually.

However long that takes is fine. Time is terribly unimportant right now; rechecking the calculations he brought home is entirely off the table. Right now, his only job is to be good to you, and he badly wants to do it right.

It’s not until he’s down two leg braces, a pair of pants and has just finished unbuttoning his too-large dress shirt that your hand finds his arm and tugs, beseechingly. You don’t meet his eyes when he looks at you questioningly; they are blearily fixed on your cross-legged lap. It’s for the better—you don’t see the flush he can feel warm on his face.

Is it not odd, inappropriate even, to sit near naked with your partner while she verges on tears? While she navigates such a catastrophe, when she had such love for her work? Evidently, you don’t think so, the way you demand such intimacy. And perhaps there is something to be said for the comfort of skin to skin contact, even if it’s just the way his leg frames your bare thigh as he shuffles to hold you.

He takes the cup from your hands, with his long reach setting it aside, before he decides that the right place for his hands is wrapped snugly around your waist. It feels right, like this, the way you lean your weight onto his chest like it won’t crack beneath you. Like he won’t break.

He suspects that this is easier, when you don’t have to meet his eyes, though they don’t look upon you with judgment. Never that. Over your shoulder, he can see the anxious way you play with your fingers, and for it, you receive the faintest squeeze. Only meant to reassure, of course.

But it forces up a long, defeated sigh. That watery note is gone from your voice; it’s dried up, leaving something coarse and bitter behind. “I got fired, Viktor, what more is there to say?”

“Why might be a good place to start,” he suggests.

Which you don’t take well. You scoff, defensively, but you sound so small. “What, you think it’s my fault?”

“Is it?”

“No,” you blurt, flinging your hands in frustration, “No, I—My project got canceled and they just… just let me go instead of giving me another one.” Beneath his hands, against his body, he can feel the way tension builds in yours and then releases, all at once. Recognizing the injustice, then feeling the defeat. He’s not quick enough to answer; it gives you time to think, and worse still, to say: “Fine, maybe it is my fault, right? For not being good enough to keep. I could have been better.”

“That is not true— I know you to be immensely talented and technically skilled. I would not believe for a second that you are at fault.”

“Well, since you’re such a man of science, you should see that the evidence suggests otherwise. If I had such irreplaceable talent, then I’d still have a job right now. They would have kept me despite… well…”

It’s a familiar sting; he can guess. “It came down to money, I assume,” he says, nuzzling into your hair sympathetically. He’s been there, at those awful fundraisers with Jayce, begging for scraps of funding. Just business, they would say, but it was hard not to take it personally. To have talent and innovation and genius overlooked because it doesn’t come cheap enough. You have struggled too, he knows, to show people the worth of your most beautiful creations.

You snort, however indelicately, “Of course it did.” It’s even harder to hear what he himself used to think, time and time again at his lowest, now coming out of your mouth when you whisper: “I’m never going to be good enough for these people, am I?”

And it breaks his heart anew.

“You’re enough for me, miláček, does that count for anything?” he murmurs fiercely, holding you that much tighter; the two of you, holding fast together against anything. Looking for anything to reassure you, to make you stop thinking such awful things of yourself, he leaves an innocent kiss at the juncture of your neck and shoulder.

At least, it is supposed to be innocent.

You don’t take it that way. Oh gods. You do not take it that way at all.

Your pretty head cants to the side, exposing that lean stretch of tendon in your neck. Your back arches, ever slightly, angling your hips suggestively. “It counts,” you sigh, and it sounds different this time. Wistful and breathy. “I just… don’t want to think about this anymore, y’know?”

Does he know? Does he really?

The last thing he wants is to come across as a desperate, depraved creep when maybe you’d rather have him talk about something else instead. About his day, his experiments, his progress on the Hexgate, perhaps? You’ve been so miserable, and he’d never wish to take advantage of you in such a vulnerable state. Tempting as you so often are.

He’s beginning to sweat against the warm press of your body through that sweater, and you? You’re definitely pushing your ass up against him now. He can feel it, the way the muscles in your abdomen shift and work that mischievously slow squirm.

“You would like… a distraction?” He curses the hesitant waver in his voice. But, experimentally, he finds the edge of your sweater and lets his fingers slip beneath it, skimming featherlight touches up your flank. Higher. Higher still until he feels the lowest notches of your ribs.

“Mmhm,” you hum, a coy sound, lifting your arms subtly, invitingly as his hand advances steadily. It brushes the incomparably soft swell of your breast, just the underside, and—oh yes—he’s starting to feel much, much better about the situation. Stiffer too, and not from the way he’s sitting. As long he hasn’t caused your anguish, he’ll do whatever you want. Whatever you need. Whatever it takes, to make you happy again.

“And this,” he asks, a little beside himself; curious and teasing and absolutely flushed as he takes a handful of you. “Does this help?”

“A little bit…”

You force him to be greedy. To add his other hand up your sweater, kneading each breast with tender restraint. It feels vulgar and divine to have you practically in his lap like this, his hands free to roam beneath your clothing. That you’ve been sitting here in only your panties has become very convenient. The thought has him fully hard against you, and his hand chasing the impulse to reach between your widening legs.

“Only a little?” he asks again, this time in low, dulcet tones of sincerity, lips grazing your neck. He won’t tease you anymore—it’s not what you need nor deserve.

One last time, he exercises caution in touching you, making sure that you’re comfortable with where this is going. Viktor asks, too, “And if I do this…?” as he feels between your thighs over the cottony barrier of your panties, his hand sliding along the warm seam of you. Up and down in gentle strokes, until he finds that sweet little nub and presses, just so; rolls his wrist in broad, circular motions that your hips respond to readily.

You whine and nod, “Much better,” offered the friction you’ve been lacking. Your nails rake up his thigh, catching on the divots the brace left in his skin, but there’s nothing to grab for purchase.

Until you reach up.

Until your hand tangles into his hair and pulls a shameless, unchecked groan out of him, straight into the shell of your ear. It sounds every bit as desperate and debauched as he knows himself to be, deep down.

He’s horribly embarrassed of himself, especially since you break free of his grip and turn on him abruptly. Your face is still ruddy, flushed, but he can’t tell from what anymore. “I’m sorry—that was—”

“—So hot,” you breathe, and the distraction is clearly working. You’re finally smiling, feral as it is, while you reassure him. Not just with your praise, kneeling between his legs; you tug that sweater over your head and reward his good work with the masterpiece of your near naked body.

But he can’t look for long, the way you’re crawling into his lap, pressing your skin flush in every delicious way. The delicate swell of your breasts, nipples brought to hard little points, rubbing up against his bare skin has his cock twitching. With the firm press of your hips against his own, you can definitely feel it. Your hands wind into his hair again, both of them for double the menace. “Do it again,” you demand, and if that’s what you want… well.

As if he could resist.

You pull at the roots behind his ear, at his nape, and it’s both hard and tender in the most sweetly conflicting sense. His neck falls back as he keens for you, loose, loud and vulgar. Hopes that it satisfies you, because it is not a performance but a genuine unshackling of his restraint. He’s holding nothing back.

Your lips are on his open mouth in an instant, sloppy as you swallow down those involuntary sounds he makes until you are his echo. You kiss him like you’re drunk on his affections, and Viktor doesn’t mind in the slightest. He encourages it, even. He is first to slip his tongue into your mouth, a slick, wet slide, bold like the taste of coffee still on yours. Deepens it, twining his arms around you; one hand to stroke your spine near the nape of your neck, one to grab you by the plush of your waist, dragging you down firmly against his pelvis.

You roll your hips incessantly against the hard line of his cock, clawing desperately as if you could push any closer to him and meld into one. You could, in a sense, if you both weren’t constrained behind such needless undergarments. Ones that are growing slick now that you’ve transferred a wet patch right at the tip of his cock, and it’s made the friction maddening. Call him touch starved, pathetic, whatever—but there is a very real chance that if you don’t stop, he’ll cum before you can lay hands on him properly.

And by the pitch of your whines, muffled against his tongue, you’re approaching the very same cusp.

His hands slide to the curve of your ass, kneading that heavy muscle reverently until he remembers himself, and prompts you to still.

“You, ah, have me closer than I would like to admit.”

“And yet…” you simper, letting your hands drop to his shoulders. Slipping them beneath his open shirt and rubbing at the tension there, until it falls down his wiry arms and he looks properly ravaged beneath you.

“And yet,” he echos, “I want you to know what you do to me.” Your impish little hands dip lower, brushing down his chest, over his nipples, with deliberate slowness. He shudders, visibly, and you glow brighter with lewd pride for it. “Tease me all you like—whatever you want tonight, my love.”

Your fingers pry at the waistband of his boxers, still teasing, and his own fingers itch to rip them off.

“There’s nothing you want?”

“Only you.” Two sweet, soft fingertips brush the naked head of his cock accidentally, and he sighs: “Only to make you happy.”

“But you’d just so happen to like it, if I rode you until you begged me to stop, right?”

“Very much.”

You kiss him then, long and languid, until you’re pulling away just enough to swipe a considering thumb across his lower lip. He knows what you’re thinking. He’s not afraid to say it.

“…Unless you would want to ride my mouth first? I would, eh, incidentally like that too, you know.”

“Tempting,” you hum, shifting your hips in a manner both thoughtful and devilish, “But I think I’ll save that offer for later, if I can.”

“Fortunately it does not expire. Redeemable whenever I have a few minutes to spare.”

“A few minutes?”

“What,” he snorts, “The last time I tried to take my time with you, you begged me to—”

“—Take your pants off.”

“Well, it wasn’t that, but as you wish.”

Compared to you, the way you sit back and shimmy them down your legs, giving him the barest glance of the slick glisten between your thighs, he feels clumsy the way his cock springs out with a fleshy smack and he struggles to shove them off his lanky legs. Perhaps comeuppance, for being a smart-ass.

But you are kind to help him the rest of the way, discarding them to the floor. Kinder still, insanely so, when you bow to kiss the head of his cock. Even if it’s teasing, the attention has him flush-faced and reeling.

When you kiss his lips next, yours are faintly salty. Your tongue in his mouth still tastes of coffee; your cunt on his lap is wetter and hotter now that it is bare against him. Your hands still claw at whatever they can get—hair, shoulders, skin—as he reaches down to position himself at your entrance, so that you might sink down at your own pace.

That pace is quick and devouring, the way your body draws him in. You might be sore later, but it was all your own doing. He’ll still feel bad, but right now he feels very, very good.

Hilted, Viktor groans and grits his teeth against the skin of your collarbone. He’d like to last, if only for you, but you are wickedly tight and the drag of your skin is divinely inspired.

You stop and stroke his hair sweetly, worried when you ask: “Do you…um, need to lay down?”

“This is comfortable,” he whispers, grateful for your consideration, into the crook of your neck. “But you feel so good—too good. I would not like to disappoint you.”

“You won’t,” you tell him firmly, rocking against his pelvis in a way that has you sighing from the friction on your clit, “You really won’t.”

His mouth travels downward, trailing open-mouthed kisses until he reaches the bud of your nipple and pulls it into his mouth. It’s not the easiest angle for his neck, but it’s rewarding the way your head sways back and you whine, sweet and clear for him. The way your thighs work to reward him, in turn, lifting and dropping you down his shaft. It’s hard to keep your breast to his lips as you bounce and it bounces with you, and your unsteady rhythm doesn’t help. Like you can’t decide whether to chase your own pleasure, grinding against his hips, or ensure his own, rising and falling in time with the breathy pants he can’t contain.

Viktor chooses for you.

And it’s an easy choice, because he knows that once the scales tip in your favor and you start writhing and spasming and—if he’s lucky—whimpering for him not to stop, it’ll be over for him too. It’s like that, when you love someone; their pleasure is always your undoing.

So he winds his long arms around your waist, a tight embrace that forces you down on his cock with a surprised, stuttering gasp. “Like that, yes,” he coaxes, and you can do nothing but rut yourself against him, embracing him in kind with your arms thrown over his shoulders; one hand clawing at the notches of his spine, the other a lovely contrast, twined in his hair to cradle his head. When you pull, weakly like you’re beginning to forget yourself, it is so welcome because he is too.

His mouth falls prey to slurring encouragements to you, nonsense to your ears. Your hand in his hair tightens sharply, snapping his head back so that he is forced to look at you from beneath heavily hooded eyes, down his nose. And he sees you, lips parted, eyes hazy, nodding feverishly in time with the sway of your body. Everything about you, flushed and lovely.

Lovelier, when you cum. Your voice broken and pitchy and very, very loud until you stifle it against his lips, holding his shoulder for leverage. The ceaseless, slick grind of your cunt, constricting around him with little mercy, has him mindlessly groaning into your mouth, “Nepřestávej, prosím,” as if you understand what that means.

You do, to a point, because you don’t stop. You ride him hard and ruthlessly, in pursuit of the full breadth of your pleasure, until it lances him through the core too. And true to your word, you keep going. Lavishing languid strokes to his hair, pressing your lips to his temple, nuzzling sweetly against his head as you wring his release dry into the cloying clutch of your body.

Until his whole body quakes, the overstimulation taking hold, and he gives you the last thing you want. His voice, his words, imploring into the humid crook of your neck: “It’s—it’s too much, please, ah—!” You wiggle you hips quite fiendishly, one last time. Pleased with yourself, evidently, by your charmingly sinister laugh; a sound he’s heartened to hear.

“Enough, miláček. You want to kill me, is that it?”

“You’ll live,” you shrug, sliding backwards off him with a lewd, slick sound. Your legs, still thrown open over his thighs, grant him full, unabashed view of that pearly white drip that slides out of you and onto the sheets. You track his wide eyes down, and while you could just as easily call him gross or tease him for being so brazenly into it, you simply apologize for the mess and offer to change the sheets. You’re much more yourself now, he’s almost sure.

But it’s not until you’re in the bathroom cleaning up, sitting in the bottom of the shower together, that he finally asks: “Do you feel better, truly?”

“Better than an hour ago, definitely. I’m trying to come around to the idea that I can find something better, but it’s still fresh. I need some time.” At least you’re honest, but he hopes that at the very least you won’t lose sleep or shed another tear over it. Your fingers tangle together loosely; your voice drops a suggestive octave. “Maybe more distractions.”

He laughs then, a resonant sound off the tiles. There will come time for more serious conversations; you’ll move through the loss at your own pace and grapple with the process of finding something new. He’ll be there for all of it, when you’re ready. But for now…

“Anything, for you.”

#arcane #viktor #viktor x reader #viktor x f!reader #viktor x fem!reader #arcane viktor #arcane fanfiction #reader insert #mdni #my writing #if you know what this is in reference to: no you don't #keep it secret... keep it safe

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mang0tang00 · 2 years

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5 Acts of Love♡

Ft. Viktor

Viktor x GN! Reader

Warnings: none.

Word count: 1k

Part 1: Physical touch

It has been a stressful week for you and Viktor. Him with his endless experiments both in and out of work, along with piling up paperwork he seemed to neglect. You are helping him with said experiments and being Heimerdinger’s assistant on top of that! You two were juggling so much that you both haven't been able to see each other. Yes you two may live together but arriving home at different times with one always being asleep, it seemed impossible to have down time between you two. The stress had peaked when Jayce noticed that you two had stayed in the lab for 3-4 days straight. He immediately told Heimerdinger that he needs to give you a few days off to rest fully, he did the same with Viktor as well. Though neither of your brains seemed to take the word “break”, very well. Jayce went to check on you and Viktor to see if you two were actually resting only to discover that neither of you have. The eye bags had been worse than ever! Jayce had himself and Sky remove all projects and experiments from the shared home despite you and Viktor moaning in protest but your bodies were too exhausted to actually cause a halt in their removal. After a few hours, Jayce and Sky had finished their removal now it was just you two awkwardly sitting on the couch. Not knowing what to do with yourselves, you just sat in silence. Your eyes peaked at Viktor from the corner of your eye only to see him looking at you, quickly glancing away only to hear a snicker from Viktor,

“We are acting like awkward teenagers on their first date” his comment had broken a smile onto your face.

“Well we haven't really spent time with one another outside of work for…” you tried mentally counting but ultimately gave up, “a while…'' Then you hear Viktor sigh.

“I know it's been very long since we have actually done something with one another.”

Silence once again fills the room, your eyes looking around the room then you spot something, your eyes light up like a shooting star. The expression is not going unnoticed of course. Viktor then follows your movement as you turn on the record player and music begins to fill the room with a soft tune. He follows you with his eyes, the ones that you have fallen in love with. You walk closer to him and lay down on the couch and stare at him. The warm smile that fills his chest with warmth, the kind of warmth you only feel with someone you love. Your movements broke him out of his daze as your arms were opened wide for him, he knew the signal and it was for him to lay down. He did just that, he got comfortable in your awaiting arms. He placed his ear over your heart so he can listen to the rhythm he loves to fall asleep to. He closed his eyes as he placed a hand around your torso to keep your body closer to him. Both your legs intertwined with one another and your body's heat seeped into his making him sleepy. After a few minutes he felt your fingers glide through his hair, oh how he loved it when you scratched his scalp and played with his hair. Feeling your fingers press into his scalp and drag gentle lines, he gently moaned at the feeling. Viktor also felt the way your chest expressed laughter at his sounds but he could care less. In the moment you consumed all of his senses, your hands running through his hair, your scent filling his nose while he dug his face deeper into your neck (accompanied with a small giggle from you as he knew that place was sensitive), the way your heart beat. He wanted to be surrounded by you and only you, you are the most valuable thing in his life. So moments like these are what he cherished the most. He felt your other hand move from his shoulder to his leg and began to massage it. After a while he felt you move which woke him up as he had started falling asleep in your arms. You kissed his hair line then his forehead and then gently kissed his lips. The way your lips had both fitted each other in a perfect way, the softness of yours against his own, your taste, it wasn't frantic like when something was wrong. It wasn’t filled with lust like when you two were having sex. It wasn't quick and light like when it would be a fleeting kiss before work, no it was gentle and slow. This kiss embodied the love you two had for one another, the pure feelings you two felt for one another. Breaking away from the kiss he looked up at you with adoration, how had he been so lucky with you? All his dreams were about you, all his thoughts were about you, his senses filled with nothing but you. He sighs happily as you kiss him again in the same way, his heart beats faster but he smiles happily while kissing. You feel him smile which makes you smile in turn, then you laugh. Your laugh is contagious as it makes him laugh as well, the purest feeling of love was there. It will always be there in silence around others but by yourselves? It was so pungent that it could make people melt with joy. You shift so you're more comfortable but Viktor still has the ability to hear your heartbeat. You just held him closer to your chest as he held you just as tender and close as you. He feels your fingers thread into his hair once again and gently scratch his scalp. Sending him into a hypnotic state that lets his exhaustion take over.

#viktor #viktor arcane #viktor league of legends #viktor x reader #viktor x y/n #viktor x you #viktor x fem!reader #arcane viktor #viktor x gn reader #viktor x male reader

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thehistoriangirl · 1 year

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The Oblivious Game I Want to Lose (Without Losing You) [Chapter Four]

> M A S T E R L I S T <

Viktor x Fem!(Hopeless Romantic!)Reader-----3.1K-----SFW

Synopsis: Your father wants you to forget about pursuing your dream of being an opera singer as your mother was. Instead, he's determined to make you a great business person to fit into his wealthy family—his solution? Hiring one of the smartest students of the Academy as your personal tutor, no other than Heimerdinger's assistant himself. But when you two grow closer, the plan gets tricky as you get your confidence back to fight for your re-discovered dreams just as Viktor starts to achieve his own.

Chapter summary: Time passes, and soon enough your graduation arrives. Would that mean the end of your relationship with Viktor?

Testing and verifying.

Viktor was used to the method, using it in the lab and teaching some students about it when Heimerdinger let him as a substitute teacher; but he didn’t believe the businessman Erik Ventos would abide by the same process.

He felt as if one of his professors were revising the progress of his late project, Mr. Ventos’ brows pinched while trying to search for the minimal problem of its design, function, or utility. The memories from his student years got cut short when he saw you removing in your place, next to him. The fabric of your dress brushed his hand from time to time with the wind filtrating from the slightly open window, your hands playing with the hem of your sweater as your father revised your grades.

It was getting colder outside, autumn almost arriving with the leaves of the trees covering the garden slowly turning yellow and orange. You stopped wearing thin and puffy fabrics in exchange for warmer materials.

Not that he had noticed. It was just a logical assumption.

Mr. Ventos’ gaze slowly fixated on him, lips in a neutral fine line. "It's progress. Not the best—but you've just tutored her for a month, so I suppose it's good enough."

Viktor tilted his head. “Thank you, Sir.”

You had your eyes glued to the edge of your father's desk, head lowered. Viktor wanted to reach for your shoulder and give you a reassuring pat. You'd done very well during all these weeks, even if your father was reticent of expressing it.

Mr. Ventos called your name. Not so coldly as Viktor was used to hearing, but he frowned nonetheless. Good thing Erik Ventos wasn’t paying attention to him.

“You should thank your tutor, child. He has accomplished a hard task. I’m surprised.”

Something twitched in your nose as you looked at your father’s nagging expression, but you turned toward Viktor, smiling softly as you said: “Thanks for everything, Viktor.” Your eyes twinkled with the afternoon light as if gold particles were trapped inside your irises.

His heart picked up its rhythm, but it surely was for the pressure of being inside Mr. Ventos' office.

Mr. Ventos set the paper of grades down, burying it between a dozen of folders. “Well, then. Have the day for yourself,” he commented, already taking one of the folders and starting to read. “You’re both excused.”

Viktor tilted his head as a goodbye, following your steps in a beeline as you exited the office. You stopped in the middle of the hallway, huffing something between gritted teeth.

You looked angry, and to be fair he didn’t want to cross in the way of your fury, so he chose to check this part of the manor instead—Mr. Ventos’ wing.

The soft colors of your manor wing were gone; here, the walls made Viktor remember the cerulean blue from the Academy’s hallways, the same hue of grayish blueish covering the walls on this floor. Golden motifs were scattered over them, geometric and simple against the soft curves of the decorations on your floor.

You were talking to him, it seemed, walking closer and closer toward him, calling his name as he looked at the fancy ceiling made with boring translucent glass. On your floor, the ceiling was decorated with mosaic the color of the rainbow. Viktor didn’t hear you until you tugged the hem of his vest.

He jumped at the sudden contact, and you quickly withdraw your hand. “Hmm? Oh, Miss Ventos. What is it?”

You smiled shyly at him, retreating your hands to your back. "Would you mind joining me for lunch?"

He blinked, already feeling a wave of heat creeping up his face in the form of a pink blush. “Pardon?”

You tilted your head, your smile widening. “I said if you want to eat with me.” You took a step away. “If you don’t have more compromises, of course. I wouldn’t like to keep you.”

Viktor stood there awkwardly, his hand grasping the cane with so much force the metal at the handle creaked. If you heard it, you didn’t comment about it. Which he thanked.

Do you want to eat with me? He thought—well, not thought because you replied:

“Yes!” You beamed at him, the gesture so natural Viktor blinked twice to assure himself it wasn’t a trick of the light. “I was thinking you could assist me with my final project for the engineering class, maybe? Please?”

He smiled slightly as if it wasn't his job to help you excel at school anyway. Viktor nodded, and then you took him by the sleeve of his shirt, dragging him down the hallway, toward the stairs.

You were following him as he carefully descended each step, each one taking one side of the handrail.

“And what are you planning on presenting?”

“My family always presents new prototypes of airships.” You shrugged, but Viktor noticed the light scrunch of your nose as you continued. “It’s a bizarre family tradition, but a tradition nonetheless.”

Viktor tilted his head, trying not to tell you about ditching the tradition if you wish to. He wasn't there to cause more problems. His grasp on the cold metallic rail tightened.

“I suppose you already have some ideas if that's the case."

You nodded, he saw it from the corner of his eye—as he was used to looking at you. In fleeting glances as your head was dipped, eyes squinted while looking at the equations you must resolve for him. Sometimes you bit your lips when you grew frustrated, and he had to play with a nearby pen to remove the temptation of stopping you before you drew blood.

Viktor frowned. He was getting distracted.

“…we should discuss it on a date,” you said, and Viktor stumbled over a step.

A little scream came out of your mouth as you quickly took one of his arms to stabilize him. He saw your eyes widen, face pale as you scanned his body.

“Are you alright? Are you feeling dizzy? It’s because you haven’t eaten lunch, right?” Your brows got knitted in worry as the silence extended abnormally long between you two. “Viktor?”

“A date?” he repeated simply, a light blush forming on his cheeks.

You blinked, clearly dumbfounded. “Yes. You know, a specific day so I can work in a deadline?”

The warmth should’ve disappeared, but instead, it grew until he felt his face boiling. Of course, you'd meant that, what was he even thinking? Or perhaps it was that he wasn’t thinking at all.

Viktor nodded, feeling some locks of his hair brushing his forehead from the movement. A poor excuse for trying to hide his flustered state. "A date. Right. Perhaps in two weeks from now? Does that work for you, Miss Ventos?”

“Y-yes, it does. But—” Viktor looked at your hand hovering some centimeters away. He descended a step.

“Very well. Then it’s settled.” Viktor was at least three steps away from you, but the growing distance didn’t seem to work. He wanted to continue, but guilt weight down his stomach, twisting it into a painful knot. His face half turned to see you, standing still right in the same step he faltered.

It was difficult to talk to you—very much so he was used to his stumbled sentences. Viktor was surprised you didn’t find him annoying, or even boring as he explained each thing in the summary talking too quickly. “Let’s go, Miss Ventos. You wouldn’t want the food to get cold, do you?”

You smiled at him then, quickly skimming over each step until you were at his same level, barely a couple of steps left. He could smell the sweet and salty aromas filtering from the left side of the ground level.

Viktor was about to take another step down when you took his wrist. He jumped a little, not being the first time this day you touched him there. You lowered your head, your smile turning apologetical. “Please be careful.”

He nodded—he couldn’t do anything more than nod. You withdrew your hand, and a stupid, childish part of him wished you had not.

*~*~*~*

Time passed by quickly once you got used to the new routine.

Viktor would tutor you two times a week, and at the end of the semester, the sessions would become three or even four.

Mr. Ventos didn’t seem weird that even as you progressed, picking up your grades, you still needed a tutor as much as the start. The reality was, you were selfish and wanted a friend. You knew it was frivolous to pay him and share time with you, but you knew Viktor wouldn’t want to share his time with you otherwise.

You couldn’t remember the last time you had a friend. First, because every rich kid knew your mother was from the Undercity, using such fact to exclude you from their plays, and then, their parties. So you relied on your mom, the only way that was there to play with you and keep you amused by giving you trips around the opera house and the Music Faculty. You got used to being around adults, to be only noisy and chaotic when alone.

Then your mother’s death occurred, and you only became more isolated.

Your father tried to push into Piltovan high society, but with no real luck. People would talk to you to reach your father or your family resources. They wanted to use you when you couldn't use them back.

Viktor was a particular case, he was there specifically to help you. And he didn’t look interested in whatever privileges your family could offer. How many young tutors had tried to swoop you off your feet, trying to fool you into loving them blindly? How many old tutors would treat you excellently only while your father was watching?

The man was still wary of you, with his warm but distant smile, and the fact he wouldn’t call you by your name no matter how hard you tried. But you liked to share time with him. You liked how his eyes shone as brilliantly as the sun while he was explaining subjects of his interest—ones that weren't included in the study program.

With some luck, perhaps you could convince him that your intentions were good, that you weren't trying to use them for personal gain. But despite the result, you must try.

*~*~*~*

Viktor entered the studio on a normal day like any other. You weren't there, not even in your usual napping spot. Instead, there was a note scribbled in your now familiar lettering.

Under the olive tree! You scribbled, doodling a little tree in case Viktor would miss the meaning of the note, he supposed with an amused smile.

He took the note out of the desk, heading toward the window to scan if he could see you from there. And soon enough, he scanned your figure hunched against the olive tree itself, with a book laid open in your lap.

Viktor slid the note inside his pocket, to put it in a drawer with all your other notes and doodles arriving home. He always finds them interesting, even thinking about them on his way to your house every day he had tutoring sessions. They could vary from class related:

‘I don’t understand this </3’,

‘!!!!’,

‘→ (boring)’,

‘interesting! :0’.

Sometimes, it was random questions and expressions so out-of-class topics Viktor knew if someone look at the notes, they will report it to Mr. Ventos.

‘Do you want more cake? ^^’,

‘Pretty flower for you → happy spring season :D (beware allergies)’,

'Roofs. Through service stairs (don't let them catch you!!).

Some were more serious, like long or medium letters apologizing for a sudden absence.

Hi Viktor!

I’m sorry to make you come all the way here.

My father took me to the Fissures to revise some cargo in the port. I don’t think I can make it back quickly enough.

You can stay here to work for a bit if you want to :D I left some chocolates in the upper drawer of your left.

Have a good day <3

It was spring back then, with the sun starting to set up later than usual, and small flowers starting to bloom.

When he appeared between the bushes, you smiled at him, putting the book aside to pat the spot next to you in the soft, freshly cut grass. You had a tray filled with a pitcher filled with orange juice, one of the two glasses half-empty.

Perhaps it was only the spring season, but your smile seemed brighter, the fabric of your clothes surrounding your body like a white halo. It wouldn’t be the first time you’d hang around the garden, but at that point Viktor thought that way, trying to soak into the scenery of pruned shrubs, and trees starting to grow new leaves. Some bees were stepping into the rim of your glass, and even you help one that had fallen inside with the help of your pen.

The olive tree was in front of a fountain, a bench-like swing surrounded by roses at the right.

Viktor frowned. “Why didn’t you sit over there?”

You giggled, pushing away the locks of your hair that were covering your eyes. Viktor saw you missed a little one. “Because I’d get distracted too easily.”

This was my mom’s garden, you told him when he gained enough bravery to ask. Because Mr. Ventos wouldn’t look like the kind of person to find a garden useful in any way. I take care of it for her now.

Those times you doodled flowers and trees all over your notes.

He knew he shouldn’t attach too much to your company, because the semesters in the Academy passed by for nothing. Once you graduated—and each day you were nearer that point—, you wouldn’t need him anymore, and Viktor would have to return to the life he’d always know: a lonely, quiet one.

Your last tutoring session was late at night, because, with the preparations for the graduation ceremony, you had all your evening occupied. It was the only time you arrived at the studio minutes after he had.

Viktor saw dark circles behind your eyes, and a tired smile every time you looked at him.

He handed you some equations, and you solved them without any questions about the procedure. The light of the chandelier sent multicolored hues toward your evening attire, comfy brown pants, and a white blouse. Some locks of hair were poking out your hairstyle.

Around an hour later, you handed the paper back to him, and he skimmed at it. While he revised the test, you put out a notebook, scribbling the last essay you’d have to do for the Academy. It was one of those reunions where the silence hung comfortably around you, as each of you worked your duties.

“Good job. You only had one wrong.” Viktor slid the papers back to you, with a tiny doddle of a happy cat in return.

Sometimes he allowed himself to leave you silly notes, too.

You chuckled at seeing the little drawing. “Do I deserve a reward?”

He nodded, opening the candy drawer to give you a couple of chocolates. “Of course.” Your brows were raised, eyes widened with surprise.

“Oh? Two?”

“It’s your last quiz, after all.” Viktor couldn’t stop his voice to sound disappointed, almost sad.

Your smile illuminated by the chandelier made his chest tighten. One of your hands took one chocolate, and pushed it toward him, gesturing the candy with your chin for him to take it.

“You deserve one too,” you muttered, your eyes twinkling. “Thank you for everything, Viktor.”

The knot of his chest raise to his throat, and he was surprised about the idea of him crying in front of you. For something as normal as a graduation.

“Congratulations, y/n.” You looked at him as if he’d just given you the moon, lips extended in a wide smile and eyes closed with a beam of happiness that only made him feel worse.

I’m going to miss her, the thought revealed itself before Viktor had time to hide it at the back of his mind once again.

It was a rather quiet reunion because you were busy, and Viktor didn’t want to interrupt your work. He gathered his things quietly, stealing glances of your figure half-laying in the chair, feet tucked at the edge of the chair’s cushion as you used your knees and thighs as your improvised table. Viktor knew it was rude to stare, but he had to.

He wanted—needed—to remember you when he was out of your life.

As he was about to stand up to leave, leaving a goodbye note over your graded quiz, you spoke.

"Viktor, would you like to be my plus one at the graduation party?" You were peeking at him from the edge of your notebook, the rest of your face still hidden. One of your hands took out one invitation card from between its pages.

The card made a muffled sound when your fingers put it on the desk, nail meeting the wood.

He frowned, even if his automatic reaction was to say yes.

“Shouldn’t your father accompany you that day?”

You scoffed lightly. “If I can be honest with you, I prefer he wouldn’t.” You returned to an elegant sitting position, leaving the notebook aside. “I think you deserve to come with me. After all, I’m graduating thanks to your help.”

“That statement dimmish your commitment and dedication,” he replied, but Viktor felt something fluttering inside, on his stomach.

You blinked, eyes away from him. "I… I would really like it if you could come with me."

He stood there, with his back very rigid against the chair rest, your words slowly, deeply seeping through his skin, down his heart.

“I’ll be there," Viktor said, not processing what he was saying. His fingers were grasping the cane's handle with so much force, he saw his knuckles turning white. "Yes, yes. I'll be there."

Your chair scrapped the floor as you dragged it away from the table in a hurry. You were blurry of white and brown as you throw your arms around his seated figure, not caring if his cane was inserting over your stomach as you leaned toward him.

“Thank you,” you said against his hair, and he was too shocked to move, thinking that any little shift of his body would drag you away. “Thank you so much, my dear friend.”

Viktor closed his eyes at hearing that, taking in the smell of your shampoo, and the scent of your clothes. The way your hands took fists off his sweater at his back, how the crook of your neck fitted perfectly for him to rest his chin on.

He’ll miss you. He’ll miss you so much.

But he had to let you go, such was life.

At least, from now on, every day he gets to see an airship flying through Piltover, he’ll think about you.

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ficfanatictrf · 1 year

Text

The Night Stand (Part 8)

Summary: After waking up the following morning, everything finally fits itself together in Viktor's mind.

Word Count : 2.5k

Edited and Proofread by nobody...

A/N - I apologize for not writing for a long while. Things have been rather difficult and as such all creativity has felt like pulling teeth. Hopefully this wasn't horrible...

@cheeriecherrymain and @fairy-writes - thank you both for reaching out to see if I was alright. I was blown away that not just one, but two people actually cared to check in on me. I am just used to being the one that takes care of other and not the other way around so it was different. And seriously...thank you for that.

---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ----

When he had snuck into your hospital room the night before, he had been planning on being able to just see that you were alright. He had just needed to see you, to know that you were safe and healthy.

It had been his own anxiety and nerves that hadn’t allowed him to remain away any longer. Knowing that you might be hurt by the flowers that Jayce had mistakenly brought to you? That had just cemented the fact that he had no other choice but to slip into your room that night.

However, the one thing that he had not expected and had not wished to remain there the whole night and find himself blinking awake to find that the sun was beginning to rise.

To say that his heart nearly stopped would have been an understatement. The sheer panic engulfing him in mere seconds as his mind caught up to just what the situation was.

At night there were far fewer employees and guards, there not being many that would really attempt to break into a hospital of all places in Piltover. But with the day shift beginning to make their way in for their shift, that just meant that it would be nearly impossible to escape without being seen. Without it being clear just who he had been here to see…knowing that they would begin to question why he had been so instant to seeing this pregnant woman, why he had such a need to be around this unborn child - a child whose father had yet to be named.

It broke his heart to slip from your hold, the soft whines that escaped from you nearly bringing him to tears as all he truly wished for was to remain with you. In that moment, he would have given anything in the world to just have the ability to hold you till you awoke. To kiss you good morning, to make you breakfast in bed and to see that pretty flush on your cheeks when you brought it in - making sure that it was made exactly how you liked.

Ah.

It would appear that he had figured out where he had been making such a grave error in his thinking till then. He knew that what he was feeling for you was love, that was undoubtable. But it had taken him to lament about all that he wished he could have with you that it finally became clear to him that the things that he had wanted with you…were undoubtedly the very same things you wanted from him.

You had tried to say as much and yet he had only been thinking about all the negatives that could come from the two of you being together. The health issues, the rude comments, the hostile looks, all of these were things that he still knew that you would receive if he were to claim this child.

However, as he looked down at your sleeping self, just how peaceful and content you were in that moment. He knew that if the roles were reversed, if you were the one pushing him away before you believed that you were damning him…he would give up all he had to simply just have you. To have you despite all the negatives that could and would come along with it.

He had been deciding your life for you, never allowing you to have a decision on where the two of you would go from there. If you knew about all the hostility towards those from the Undercity, would you still choose to remain by his side? Would you want him to be named as the father? The sad fact was that he didn’t know. Not because you wouldn’t answer, but because he had never asked - he had never allowed you to know everything that you would need to know to make a decision.

He was of a mind now to explain everything to you once you were feeling better, planning on coming back the following night just like he had done the night before.

But life seemed to have determined that he had pushed the conversation off long enough.

He had not even made it down the first hallway before he had needed to double back in hopes of avoiding one of the many nurses that were already starting to be making their morning rounds. Only to nearly run right into a doctor that was leaving a different patient's room.

With the two of them crashing to the ground, his cane painfully dug into his side as he did his best to remain on his feet. He didn’t waste any time in rushing back to your room, tripping a few times as he did so.

“Security!”

Panic shot through him as he rushed through the door, slamming and locking it behind him before he began looking through the room for anything that would help him gain a bit more time.

The man was vaguely aware of the fact that you had awoken and were rising from your bed as he was quickly finding anything that would allow him to makeshift a way to keep the door closed even if they unlocked the door.

He needed more time, that was all he could think as he strung the door to the furniture near it in the hopes of keeping the door in place.

“V-Viktor? Viktor, what are you doing?”

Using one of the IV poles in the room to create even more of a barrier, he hoped that it would be enough to at least give him enough time.

“Something I should have done weeks ago” He said, moving to gently pull you to sit back down on the bed, all the while he nervously ran his fingers over the back of your hand in the hopes of calming his nerves.

“There is much that made it so I didn’t wish to claim the child. None of which had anything to do with you, you have done nothing but make me long for the privilege to claim this child as ours. I am aware you are from Piltover and as such will probably not know of many of the policies and rules that are set up against those of us from the Undercity -”

A loud crash was heard from the door, like someone had tried to open it only to end up fully stepping into the door when it didn’t budge. The sounds only seemed to grow louder, more and more people beginning to take notice of the fact that there was someone unwanted having barricaded himself inside one of the patients’ rooms.

And yet, that did nothing to stop Viktor from explaining what he felt he needed to do.

“Most hospitals refuse to treat us. That is why I haven’t been here. I am not allowed on the premises.” Freeing one of his hands, he reached out to gently place it on your stomach, his eyes flickering from where his hand was placed and back up at your eyes.

“I have no doubt passed on my health issues to this child. It will need more care than most, so I need you to decide. I need you to know everything and decide on what you wish for me to do.”

A heavy slam was heard against the door, this time causing panic to steadily grow in Viktor’s golden hued eyes.

“Believe me. I want to claim this child. You would be making me a father, a thing I never even dared to dream about. And it would be with you, a person I adore and cherish. To have a child in such a situation is a miracle.”

“Wait, please…back up, they didn’t allow you here? They don’t give you health care when you clearly need it because of such nonsense and bullshit as that?!” You could feel the beginnings of a burning starting to build, now aware of just one of the large pieces to the puzzle. It fits into place to explain so many of the things that Viktor had been so vague about in the past. Why he thought he was ‘damning’ their child by claiming it, why he didn’t wish for others to know that it was his while doing hours and hours of research on how to be the best father he could be - it all finally clicked into place.

“D-don’t get worked up, Love, please please…the baby..”

Pushing him away, you were back to your feet and heading to the door - already working on removing the items in the way.

“Darling, stop”

Ignoring him completely, it didn’t take you long to remove the barriers that were keeping the door closed.

And to say you got satisfaction from the looks on everyone’s faces when you wrenched open the door was an understatement.

“Get me the fucking person in charge of this place!”

“M-maam, you need to return to bed. It is not good for the baby”

The poor nurse that had spoken to you was the first on your shit list, the rage that was steadily growing to an all engulfing inferno being directed at her first simply because she spoke to you about the baby.

“Don’t you dare talk to me about my child. Not after I’ve now been made aware of the fact that you have been the cause for why the father of my child hasn’t been able to see me!”

You didn’t even seem to care about the looks they shot at the two of you, much too preoccupied with the one guard that seemed to be trying to slip past you to get closed to where Viktor was standing - the world soon having a twinge of red as the rage before was completely overshadowed.

“You touch him and I will kill you.”

The man froze, clearly taken aback by such bloodthirsty hate being directed at him from someone who had been nothing but kind only days if not hours before.

Pushing him roughly and rather cruelly aside, you went and took hold of your lover’s hand to pull him behind you. Already he was fretting over you, being far too preoccupied with wanting to keep you steady than anything else.

“Darling, please…you know as well as I that during pregnancy that you will have hormones that make it easier for you to become enraged, but please breathe. For me, my love, breathe.”

Glancing over at him, it took only the look in his eyes, the love that clearly was shown as well as the concern that was etched into every feature to finally start to put out the burning inferno that was eating you up from the inside.

Taking a deep breath, a shaky breath out as you tried to control your emotions - the rest of the staff watched as Viktor was able to finally get your attention to be on something other than those around you.

However, all of that was dashed as the hospital’s CEO was making his way down the hallways towards the large crowd.

Wrenching your hands away from Viktor’s hold, you marched towards him to meet him halfway - not even wasting a second thought on what you were going to do as you slapped him across the face with as much force as you physically could.

You were getting ready to swing again before you felt the inventor’s touch return, pulling you away from the man with a gentleness that wouldn’t have worked for anyone else but him.

“What is wrong with you?!”

“What is wrong with all of you?!?” You screamed, never feeling this level of hate and rage ever in your life before. It finally made sense what all the papers had said about pregnancy rage being something that wouldn’t completely take over.

“Denying care to someone who needs it simply because of where he was born?! You should all be ashamed to call yourself healers! You will regret ever meeting me, ever keeping me here when I asked to be released, when I demanded to be let to go home. Yet all you had to say was that I needed my husband for that to be possible -”

The grip on you stiffened as information that even Viktor hadn’t been aware of came to light.

“We are leaving. You will not touch him, you will not do a single thing to him. Believe me, I will already be raining hell on you and all the hospitals in Piltover over the shit I’ve learned but I dare you to make it worse - I fucking dare you to make my hate grow”

You were sick of all of them, of looking at their dumb faces as they glanced between themselves as they knew just how annoying this was most likely going to become. Because it was true, you would not rest until the policy was changed, until the rules that not only hurt those across the bridge were erased but till even such policies like a pregnant woman needing her husband there to be released - the audacity to act like she wasn’t a complete person without a man standing there beside her.

The whole way out, nobody said a word to the pair of you as you left - Viktor all the while being nothing but attentive as he asked if you needed a drink, needed a jacket, needed a hug. All the while peppering kisses against your cheek and hands as he helped you out of the hospital.

“Viktor-” You started, the exhaustion finally catching up to you from everything that just happened, weakly pushing him away as he tried to press a kiss to your temple this time.

“Viktor please, just….I just want to lay with you, to hear you tell me everything will be alright. Please..”

As he took in just how worn on you looked, the decision was simple. And with his place being closer than yours, he figured that was where you would be staying from now on. Already, as he carefully led you to his home, he was going through all the things he would need to get for you.

"Of course, anything for you"

He would take care of you.

There was no way that the disaster that had taken place wouldn’t get out.

He was now the child’s father.

There was no going back on that now, not that he wanted to, but he wouldn’t stand by the sidelines any longer.

This was his child.

You were the mother of his child.

And as he glanced over at you, he felt an odd sense of peace as he knew he could do this.

Nobody would mistreat you or the child on his watch.

He would make sure of it.

---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ----

Taglist: @cheeriecherrymain@fairy-writes@thehistoriangirl@aikoiya@piperdoodles@alternate--simp@vmyths@luixiv@linky-dinks@bruh-anator3000@somethingthatsaysbubbles

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allclonesneedkisses · 2 years

Text

Summary: Your bad day takes a turn for the better when you wander into the Arcane Public Library.

Pairing: Viktor x f!Reader

Word Count: 642 Rating: PG, (this is like a teaser for the stories to come)

Tags: fluff, slice of life, library au, summer library vibes, language

Masterlist

“Of fucking course this happens today.”

You stood with your hands on your hips glaring at the completely empty parking spot. To an outsider you probably just looked like an angry woman waiting for a ride but that would be incorrect. You weren’t waiting for a ride, you were looking at where your ride should be. Specifically your car. Specifically your car that had obviously been stolen.

It was mid July and the sun was scorching your exposed skin as you continued to glare. The sound of a distant fire engine blaring seemed to rouse you from your anger and you slumped.

Of all the rotten things to happen today this was the worst. It wasn’t like it had started any better when you’d toppled out of bed. Then there was the garbage disposal issue, tripping over the construction debris in your apartment, oh and the shitty date you’d just escaped from.

You readjusted your purse, the strap of which was starting to stick to your sweaty shoulder. You glanced back towards the little coffee shop you’d just stepped out of and grimaced. You were certain your date was still in there and you really didn’t want it to seem like you were slinking back to him. There were a couple of chain stores nearby but none of them were open on a Sunday. Your eyes fell on the library and you made up your mind.

Your first breath of air conditioning felt like it revived you and you sighed, feeling your sweat cool on your skin. The building was obviously new, its architecture much more modern especially on the inside but it still smelled like books. Wonderful glorious books that you hadn’t gotten the chance to peruse yet.

Speaking of, you might as well get a library card while you’re here. You glanced around taking in the local artist wall and small sculptures that took up a generous portion in front of what looked like a help desk. There were a couple of people waiting there so you took your time glancing at the surprisingly good art pieces on display.

Eventually you were the only one left in front of the desk and you stepped forwards, a polite smile on your face until you saw who was standing behind the desk.

The man was pale, his face lean but soft in a way you couldn’t quite put your finger on. His brown hair was slightly disheveled as if he had a habit of running his fingers through it. His brown eyes were warm as they met yours and you felt your polite smile become genuine. He was wearing a white long sleeved button up shirt and a dark blue vest that had to be hot even in the well air conditioned building.

When one of his dark brows raised you realized he’d asked you something.

“I’m sorry what?”

“How can I help you today?” He repeated, his smile turning just the slightest bit rueful. As if his appearance alone wasn't making you flustered his accent did things to you.

“Sorry yes, uh I’d like to get a library card.” The process was simple enough. Answering general questions that he typed into the computer as you watched his face with interest. Once everything was done he held out a new blue and white library card to you, which you took accidentally grazing his fingertips with yours. Luckily you hid the tiny thrill that ran through you and you finally looked away from him to rummage in your purse for your wallet.

“Is there anything else I can help you with today?” You tried not to think about how sexy his accent was as you looked up and your eyes landed on a flier pinned to the corkboard behind him and you made a snap decision.

“Yes. I’m interested in the volunteer position.”

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wincestisasincest · 2 years

Text

Waves on the Shore - Chapter 13: He Who Fights Monsters

Viktor x Fem!Reader slow burn enemies to lovers

x posted on ao3 // WOTS masterlist

Summary: Jayce and Viktor questioning you about your weapon (made with farm-fresh Hextech) is the only thing keeping you from going to jail for science crimes. You and Viktor are literally at each others throats lmao. Also you’re from Bilgewater because pirates are fucking rad

Notes: Broskis I'm sorry this one took like over a month ektjherkjth and also this one is not very proofread so sorry if it's kind of bad. Also this fic is officially over 100k words lol. Oh also we still have a discord, lemme know if u wanna join hekrthrek jt

Word Count: 11.9k

Tags: @edenstarkk @chosomybelovedcurse @dedicated2viktor @doctorho @yeehawbvby @arcaneparx @the-lake-is-calling @beeblybub

Mentions of: Nothing I think?

Triggers: Everything from the last chapter is discussed and recalled here, so… that. Also, cops, cop questioning, painkillers, drinks being drugged, booze, vomit, vertigo, guns, and language

“I’ve seen who you are in the dark. And you’re a monster.”

It’s funny. You’ve heard that word a lot - “monster.” You were familiar with every usage of the word before you could load a canon by yourself; from the scariest beasts of the deep to the ruthless criminals lording over your island. You thought that you were immune to its impact.

You were wrong.

Adrenaline fanned from your heart to your fingertips, telling you to move, fight, run, or for gods’ sake do something because you couldn’t take this straight on. It didn’t matter if you were the monster or the innocent, you could not stay trapped in this stupid, shitty loop.

And suddenly, you understood why you’d come back.

There he was, narrowing his eyes at you like a viper. But you clenched your teeth and inhaled through your nose, willing away the hollowing feeling in your chest that tried to tell you this was just a bad dream.

You would show him what monsters could do.

*****

When Viktor woke, his pulse was eating him alive.

He tilted his head, and a seedy whine pounded behind his eyes as his dress shirt pinched his arms. The blinding, sterile light kept trying to infiltrate the cool oasis of his closed eyelids.

Hangover? No, it shouldn’t be this bad. What had he even-

Oh. Right. Enforcers. He remembered those. He could recognize the outlines of their helmets even through the blurry snowfall. But there was someone else... a warm arm around his waist that didn’t let go until medical personnel had whisked him away. That must have been you.

You- where were you?

He sat up and opened his eyes.

Through the ringing in his ears he could hear heels clacking in the hallway and sweat sloshing inside his clothes. Tender bruises and stinging cuts made themselves known as his body woke up. The headache only thickened.

He was in Piltover Medical Center, laid out like roadkill on a clean, stiff mattress in their emergency clinic. It was brighter than it had any right to be, with crisp white walls, shiny medical equipment, and humming fluorescent lights.

Viktor pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to soothe the wave of nausea.

“Don’t fight it,” Jayce said from his left, “happened to me too. If you’re gonna vomit, better to get it over with.”

“Good morning as well,” Viktor’s throat was dry.

He dragged his legs over the side as a fuzzy column of brown skin nudged the trashcan towards him. He clamped its sides and nearly fell in as he threw up.

Acid seared his tongue and pungency burned through the congestion in his sinuses; welcome back to reality, they said.

Something glass clinked. Viktor hung his head over the trashcan, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and permitting himself a minute to regret waking up.

“Caitlyn came by, but we were both still out,” Jayce set a glass of water on Viktor’s side of their shared nightstand, “If she heard, then everyone else probably did too.”

Finally, Viktor willed his head up and got a look at him. He was on the other bed in the room, shirtless, with his legs stretched out and his journal open on his lap. Bandages capped his shoulder and a dark purple cloud festered around his eye. His hair was, oddly, the most surprising; spiked, sweaty, and overall messier than Viktor had ever seen it.

Viktor couldn’t imagine that he looked much better.

“How long have you been up?” Viktor gulped the water, noticing one of his own notebooks and a note from Caitlyn perched on the nightstand.

“Just a half hour. Enforcers came by and asked me some stuff. Said they’ll come back for you.”

Viktor propped his elbows on his knees.

“Did they say anything else?”

“About what?”

As if there was anything Viktor would be wondering about besides the third human life that was terribly injured.

He clicked his tongue, too tired to figure out if Jayce was playing dumb or if he’d actually forgotten about you. But Jayce wasn’t the forgetful type, and he didn’t play dumb unless the situation was dire. Something was wrong here, but Viktor wouldn’t press him. Not yet.

“About anything. I’m still not sure what exactly, eh... happened.”

“Yeah. Neither are they.”

Viktor hated how unclear his picture of last night was. The drugs and the booze already wiped half of it from hi smind, and the remaining flashes of consciousness were focused on the most irrelevant things.

Your hands loading that gun. Your eyes screwing shut as you bit your tongue. Your hot breath against his cheek as you checked his head for any damage.

“Well, at least give me something to work with,” Viktor grumbled, falling back onto the mattress.

Jayce fidgeted with his fingers, squeezing them anxiously.

“All they’ve got so far is a timeline. We were drinking, those guys came, at some point we were drugged, the bar cleared out, I went into the alleyway and got the shit beat out of me while they were getting ready to haul you away in the bar.”

Jayce looked down.

“And then?”

“Well, y’know,” Jayce swallowed, “then my... assailants got, uh, taken out. Then yours did. Then one of mine did... again. Apparently the autopsy of that last guy was, uh... well, anyway, then the Enforcers showed up.”

“Yeah. Some help they were,” Viktor paused, deciding that now would be the time to press, since Jayce was clearly intent on pretending you had never existed, “and then we came here?”

“Yup.”

“Just us?”

“In here? Yeah.”

“In here as in this room, or in here as in PMC?”

“...this room.”

“Jayce.”

“Yeah?” Jayce gave him a strained smile.

“Where is Penny?”

Jayce’s entire chest deflated when he sighed.

“Yeah, I figured you’d ask about that sooner or later. But, listen, I wanna talk to you about something first.”

“Why are you being so evasive? What... what happened?” Viktor raised a stern eyebrow, “Is she-”

“No, she’s not dead, Vik. She’s fine - in one of the other rooms. But please- humor me, will you?” Jayce’s puppy dog eyes were indomitable, “And then you can go see her.”

Viktor leaned back on his hands, studying his partner. The fog cleared from his head and he realized that Jayce was shaking. Every part of his body twitched or trembled or tightened, like he was carrying the world on his shoulders and starting to crumble under the weight.

“What’s on your mind?” Viktor asked softly.

“I...” Jayce wrung his fingers around his bracelet, “I think we should put Hextech on hold for a bit.”

The dryness in the corners of Viktor’s eyes cracked when he widened them.

“We’ve had this conversation before.”

“Yes, I know,” Jayce’s fidgeting was persistent, “but things have changed.”

“How so?”

Jayce frowned.

“How s- Vik, you were nearly kidnapped last night, and I was beaten within an inch of my life. That’s how so,” he exhaled, “and don’t give me that ‘the lives of people are endangered every day’ story.”

“But they are,” Viktor’s blood pressure rose, “and we have just made a major breakthrough. You really wish to stop now?”

“What if... we’re not so lucky next time?” Jayce winced as he briefly lose control of his volume, shying away from his point.

“It was not luck that we survived,” Viktor said, “it was Penny’s intervention.”

“Yeah, about that...” Jayce gave up on looking Viktor in the eye, “the Enforcers aren’t as, uh, convinced as we are.”

Viktor scoffed, pushing his hand through his hair. Of course they weren’t, gods forbid someone different did anything in this damn city.

“She’s not in jail again, is she?”

“No. Mel got her bail...”

“But she was going to be?!” Viktor barked, furrowing his brow, “How could they possibly justify that?”

“They think it’s weird that Penny was the only one who wasn’t drugged, and... I mean, I can’t really say that they’re wr-”

“Stop,” Viktor put his hand up, “you cannot believe that Penny is responsible for the attack?”

“No! Obviously not,” Jayce splayed his fingers out, “I don’t... look, I like Penny too, okay? I don’t think she did anything malicious on purpose. I’m just trying to tell you that we’re involved in something really dangerous here and this goes to show how little we know about it. Five people are dead.”

“You care more about your own security than all of the Undercity or Ionia.”

“Do not put words into my mouth. It’s one thing to be dedicated, but we can’t just go putting ourselves in danger. If we die, then Hextech is gone forever,” Jayce said darkly.

“But we didn’t die-”

“Because we have a fucking murderer on our staff! That’s not a good thing,” Jayce gestured violently at him.

Viktor parted his lips cautiously. The crack of Jayce’s voice, the unsteadiness in his usually confident forearms, the peakiness baked into his expression as he looked through Viktor - Viktor hadn’t seen Jayce like this before, but there was no doubting it.

“You’re... you’re afraid of her,” Viktor said.

“I- not of her,” Jayce sniffled, “just... of what she did. And I know she had to, I know,” he scolded himself, “but...”

Jayce rubbed his nose. The only other time Viktor had seen Jayce’s eyes get this watery was when he’d laughed too hard. The contrast between then and now was sobering.

“I keep seeing them,, Vik,” Jayce confessed, head in his hands, “the bodies, I keep- they’re in my head and they won’t leave and I can’t stop thinking about it.”

VIktor only had scraps of what they looked like - their body fluids weaving through the cobblestones in the street and melted flesh peeling from metal bones.

“I refuse to let us end up like that,” Jayce’s throat trembled.

The mental image was there before Viktor could stop it. His partner, his friend, his best friend, with his throat slit; the only moving part of him left was the blood oozing from the thin red line.

Viktor knew that wouldn’t happen. He knew that he had nothing to worry about, and even if he did, worrying rarely helped anything. He knew that.

He also knew that no logic could stop the sinking feeling in his chest when he saw Jayce break down.

Against his better judgment and moral impulse, he grabbed his cane from against the night stand, nudged Jayce’s knee, and quietly said that “we can slow down Hextech if you’d like,” all the while fighting the frustration simmering at his core.

Neither he or Jayce were particularly up for conversation after that, so he left to find you.

He didn’t even want to see you anymore, but in this awful mood he was in, he was bound to snap at someone, and he’d rather it be the person who already thought he was a waste of space than Jayce or an Enforcer.

In fact, Viktor found that he wouldn’t mind snapping at you right now, though by the gods he could not fathom why.

Perhaps it was that he knew you’d only be mildly inconvenienced by Hextech’s hiatus. You weren’t trying to hide it - you’d made it very clear that you thought their goals were nothing more than a foolish boon to their egos. Viktor had long since decided that he didn’t care about what you thought as long as you did your work, now, it made his blood boil.

Of course you did what you had to. Of course you planned those attacks. Of course you never meant for things to end up this way.

And, of course, it had to end with Jayce being traumatized and Hextech being needlessly stalled.

He was being unfair. You didn’t deserve this. Not after everything you’d done.

But he couldn’t help the feeling.

A similarly confusing feeling bubbled in his chest when he floated in the doorway to your hospital room. You were still, fast asleep, though you wouldn’t be moving even if you were awake with your wrist cuffed to the bed like that.

And you looked so small.

Not physically - if anything, the swelling in your nose made you look bigger. They’d straightened it and kept it in place with a loose bandaged, but the darkened, irritated skin and indigo bruises pooling beneath your eyes betrayed the nastiness of the initial impact. Your left ear was swaddled in bandages, still very much half of its original size. No essential parts of the ear seemed to be damaged but it looked... well, it looked awful. The rest of the damage was covered by a standard issue PMC blanket.

He’d never seen you sleep before. Your overflowing personality, the one that made you the godsdamned force of nature that could bring anything to its knees, was kept at bay by the thoughtless rise and fall of your chest. The greasy hair and injuries and bloody clothes were a part of your image, but without you being awake to act the part, you just looked like a person who had been through a lot.

You and no one else against the world. That could make anyone feel small.

Viktor’s face soured at the thought of your self image. You chose to wear your violence and selfishness and apathy as badges of honor, along with your hatred of Viktor. And he was so ready to look past all of that, just for last night, because... of something.

And then, somewhere in the cocktail of anger and confusion and fondness, it clicked.

You weren’t thinking about him when you saved his life, you were just being yourself.

You didn’t care about Viktor. And why the hell would you, if the rest of Piltover couldn’t be bothered? You were becoming like them - helping Viktor because he helped you and suited your needs, not because you believed in him, his ideals, or Hextech. Viktor should’ve been used to this.

It was only human. And that’s all you were. A Bilgewater spitfire with a deep longing for the world that she came from, jumping at the first excuse to indulge in it.

Viktor could only blame himself. And it ached as he considered just how desperate he must’ve been to look for deeper meaning in what you did.

“‘Scuse me, sir.”

Viktor jumped. An Enforcer, with a cinderblock jaw and wispy sideburns, materialized next to him, his palms out.

“Didn’t mean to startle ya,” he smiled apologetically, “I was just wonderin’ if you were the, uh, other victim of the attack last night? I ain’t on the case, I’m just here to take her cuffs off” he chuckled, jingling his keys.

“Yes,” Viktor smoothed out his wrinkled pants, “yes, that’s me.”

“Ah. Well, good to see you on your feet then,” he slapped Viktor in the back with his sweaty hand and turned to observe you, “I heard she was quite the killer.”

You gave no false pretense about what you were. Building you up into something you weren’t was his mistake.

But now he had to see you for what you were.

“She was,” Viktor said, “brutal. Without remorse. Didn’t even bother with talking, just went straight for the vitals.”

He didn’t give you a final glance as he parted from the Enforcer, determined to not make that mistake again.

*****

Unlike rain, which evaporated quickly in the sun, snow stuck around. After you were discharged from the hospital, you were in a completely different Piltover. The air hovering above the smooth white blanket was clean, numb, and slow, entirely jarring after everything else had happened so fast.

Nothing felt real, outside in the world or inside your head.

But you didn’t really mind the effect. Apparently, you weren’t supposed to use the good painkillers into tomorrow morning, after all the alcohol was out of your system, unless you wanted to throw up your guts onto the street. If the hurt subsided, then you could stay in the unreality until then.

Or maybe not.

“C’mon, you paid my bail,” you reluctantly plopped into the spindly chair, “and it’s not because we’re great friends. So what’s the catch?”

Coming into the warmth of Mel’s office just as you grew accustomed to the outside made the red in her paintings eerie. Though you normally liked her office, one of the few places truly rich in color in her marble palace, the contrast with the blank slate of Piltovian winter reminded you that it was just as manufactured as everything else.

“There’s no ‘catch,’” Mel folded her hands, “as an investor in Hextech, it’s my job to look out for the best interests of the company. I think we’ve all learned by now that having you in jail waiting for a sham trial is not productive.”

“So there’s nothing that you want from me, then?”

“I didn’t say that,” Mel picked at her nail, “I understand that the Enforcer’s narrative of last night’s events is inaccurate. I’m not surprised - Enforcers are only interested in maintaining the image of Piltover for the people of Piltover.”

“Sounds like you.”

“Maybe,” she eyed you curiously, “but I’m also interested in the truth. Which is something we share, isn’t it?”

It was rare that your goals aligned with powerful people, and though you were becoming more practiced in it the longer you stayed in Piltover, trepidation stalked every offer that someone like Mel gave you. If enemies can be temporary, then so are allies, and sooner or later, the good will of someone who does anything to be above others will run out.

But she could help you. She could help Jayce and Viktor. Regardless of the motive, you needed that.

As sure as that knowing smirk dug further into her cheek, you knew that there was no good will here; just business. Good, you thought, at least you understand each other.

“Fine,” you rolled your neck, “so, what, you want me to start from the beginning?”

And you did.

You rolled your head back and stared at the ceiling lights like you were in a therapist’s office, and told her the entire story as it actually happened, making especially biting remarks at the Enforcer’s faulty logic along the way.

They were claiming that, not only were you the one who had drugged Viktor and Jayce, but that you had pre-planned the entire incident in order to murder five sailors on shore leave. Their “evidence” was that, not only were you the sole undrugged person, but that once you were aware of the drug’s chemical makeup via Jayce and Viktor’s blood test, it was a substance you recognized - Whalefall, something that literally every Rat recognized.

Yet, you still had no explanation for why everything happened the way that it did; why you weren’t drugged, why they were after Viktor, why they beat the shit out of Jayce, why anything. The Enforcers didn’t really have one either, but their blanket appeal to Piltover’s xenophobia combined with their “trustworthiness” was enough to negate that.

Even if they hadn’t actually seen anything happen.

“Honestly, if that’s their response time, I’m surprised any crime in Piltover gets dealt with,” you grumbled.

“That’s not their response time,” Mel said, “they’re usually much faster. But there’s a silver lining - inadequate Enforcer response is probably going to be the main argument for your innocence in the trial.”

“Really?” you crossed your arms, “What about Jayce and Viktor’s testimony? I... well, I haven’t actually talked to them yet, but shouldn’t that be exonerating?”

“They’re not using their testimony.”

“What?!” you sat forward, “Why the hell not?! That was like... the one thing I had going for me.”

“Well, the real answer is that it destroys any chance of making you the scapegoat, but what the Enforcers are saying is that the drugs found in their system make their memories unreliable.”

“But- but that’s bullshit,” you snapped, “Everyone knows that Whalefall makes it hard to remember stuff, but it doesn’t make up false memories. Anything they can recall is still true.”

You’d already spent too much time wondering if Viktor recalled how close you were when you gave him a once over. You weren’t sure if it was embarrassing or exciting or what, all you knew was that the image of him, half dazed, but eyes full of reverence that no one had ever given you before, made your stomach flip.

“I’m sure, but that’s not how this game is played,” Mel said grimly, moving her hands below the desk, “I have some things of yours.”

Your face perked as she rattled inside the drawer, returning to the surface with your knife, ruefully caked in dry blood, and a silver pistol. Oh shit - the pistol.

“Gods, do they just let anyone in the evidence locker?” you grumbled.

“This pistol doesn’t belong to you,” Mel observed, picking it up loosely, as though it were a museum artifact and not an item designed to take a life, “why did you have it?”

“Heh, you’re already doing better than the Enforcers,” you said, “what gave it away?”

“You’re too poor to afford this.”

“Thanks.”

She was right, of course. The model was, at the very least, unique; you’d never quite seen a gun that looked or behaved like it before. It was pure silver, with svelte engravings curling from the handle to the barrel, and while it looked like a revolver, with a rotating cylinder in the center, there were no slots to load bullets, leading you to believe it functioned like a pistol.

“I guess it was just too interesting to leave,” you shrugged, “Damn thing didn’t fire when I tried to shoot it, so I wanted to take it apart and see what was going on.”

“I see,” she brushed her thumb on the barrel, “and this knife was already yours?”

“Yeah.”

You reached out, but, your fingers inches away from the cold metal, Mel’s hand smoothly came down on top of it.

“Actually... there is a catch for this one.”

You looked at her from under your brow, exhausted from the theatrics. She noticed, but she continued coyly without a care.

“The Enforcers get in the way of Hextech’s work and have done a fairly poor job thus far at resolving this pirate issue. Yet, now more than ever, Hextech needs a guardian,” she delicately set the pistol on the table, “One that is equipped to handle both problems.”

“Oh, I see,” your eyelids went slack, “listen, I appreciate the offer, but, like, I was barely qualified to deal with what just happened. Hell, I almost left Jayce and Viktor, I only decided to come back at the last minute, and even then, I got...” you gestured to your face, “all of this. So, thank you, but no thank you. It was a one time thing.”

“Well, if you’d consider making it not a one time thing, I’d be willing to help,” she was toying with the hilt of your knife, yet somehow kept her digits clean of any blood.

There was nothing to consider, but you were hungry for more information anyway.

“What do you have in mind?”

“I want to get those portals on Ionian shores as soon as possible,” she said frankly, “Figure out what’s going on, stop it, and ensure the safety of Jayce and Viktor in the meantime. You’ll have my full legal and financial support for any issues that arise, and, depending on how successful you are, there will be additional compensation.”

“I don’t need more money,” you lied, because everyone could always use more money, “the stipend is enough.”

“Compensation need not be money. I understand you’re having trouble finding a permanent residence due to your... reputation. With my connections, that would be an easy fix,” she offered the handle of your knife to you with a crafty smile, “but it’s your decision, of course.”

Damn her.

You were smart enough to know that no one really escaped the rat race. People would always, on some level, do dubious shit to survive, because there would always be people willing to put them in that position for exploitation.

But you thought that you were done with violence. Sure, it happened once in a while, because that’s just life, but you were supposed to be free of the cycle; your hands, attached to strings that were puppeteered by someone else, dripping with blood.

Hell, even last night, delirious with lack of sleep as the Enforcers kept you awake long into the night to try and “force” a confession, you’d been caught in an unfamiliar emotional deluge. You weren’t one to regret things, but as the sting of alcohol cleared other people’s viscera from your wounds, you caught the stray, remorseful wish that things had gone better. That you didn’t have to kill five people, that the Enforcers believed you, that this was something everyone could reasonably move on from.

But you were expendable. Those pirates would’ve killed you first if you let them, those Enforcers would toss you into jail if you let them, and this godsdamned pit of brutality would drag you asunder forever if you kept letting it.

The blade of your knife gleamed through all of the damage.

Money wasn’t the only currency you’d need to stay here in Piltover. If you didn’t take Mel’s offer, you’d end up taking someone else’s sooner or later, lest you face the long, slow death of the life you were trying to set up here.

Even with allies, you were still alone. You were the only one that could make things work, and sometimes, that required discomfort.

Reluctantly, you accepted the handle of your knife.

“Okay. It’s a deal.”

“Excellent,” Mel’s grin widened, impassively watching as you scraped the pistol off of her desk and shoved both weapons away.

“We’ll be in touch,” you stood brusquely, pushing the chair out and stretching your legs as you approached the doorway.

“One more question,” Mel crooned, waiting for you to turn back around and face her before continuing, “why did you come back for Jayce and Viktor?”

The warmth in her office became sickening; you were trapped inside of a hotbox slowly increasing in temperature. The only breath of fresh air was the blinding white light that stretched from the large window behind her. She and her gold sat in it like a throne.

Each painting stared at you, all painfully aware that you had no answer.

“Let me ask you something instead,” your boldness was unconvincing, “why is the Noxian so concerned with getting these portals to Ionia?”

Mel looked away from you, pursing her lips and considering one of the larger paintings on her wall. It depicted a Noxian ship from behind, heading towards the sun and away from the desolate land they’d ravaged. The shadowed backs of the sails were the only ones in her entire room that reflected authentic blood red.

After a minute, she cocked her head to the side in defeat.

“Touche,” she said, “perhaps we both have something to answer for.”

You prayed that was the end of the conversation and scuttled out the door.

You weren’t even trying to be standoffish, just struck with the overwhelming need to use the bathroom. You’d been holding in this piss since you’d left the hospital.

Shambling through the corridors, without the time or mental capacity to admire them, you spun the question around in your head - why did you come back? You remembered crouching on the parapet, greeting the moon fondly and preparing to make your daring escape, until the gut-wrenching sound of Jayce getting ripped to shreds sucked you into the fray.

There were obvious reasons.

Jayce and Viktor were your crew, and you need them to sail the ship. You’d had allies before, and occasionally, you’d even saved them at great personal risk to yourself. But you weren’t one to jump in and take a non-lethal hit for someone else - that is to say, you weren’t stupid.

Because they weren’t going to die. Viktor’s captors had told you that explicitly, and if they wanted Jayce dead, then it would’ve happened within the first five minutes of their ambush. Both of them would’ve lived had you not stepped in.

You always had a reason for defending people, but you didn’t have a reason for that night.

You’d had an impulse bouncing around in your head, telling you that if you didn’t act, you’d regret it. It wasn’t the raw, cold-blooded instinct that helped you survive, nor the ferocious sixth sense that guided you through battle. It was a small, gentle urgency, older than any of the beasts living under your skin.

What the hell was it really, though?

At last, you spotted the cool, tiled floor and white hand towels of the fanciest bathroom you’d ever seen.

After you were relieved, you washed your hands, and unwittingly saw yourself for the first time since last night in the mirror.

You didn’t know what you were expecting. You looked as bad as you felt; the bags under your eyes were replaced with crescent shaped bruises, your nose ached every time you breathed, and- and your ear. The bottom half of your left ear was gone.

You clicked your tongue.

You could still hear out of it fine. That was why you’d nearly forgotten about it in the first place. And it was just cosmetic. You shyly caressed the bandage stump. Your earlobe had disappeared into thin air and was never coming back.

Sailors lose limbs all the time. You knew this. In fact, you hated that it was the first thing on your mind as you inspected the damage. You hated that you could fucking smell the saltwater being lobbed on the fresh cut as the ship’s surgeon told you not to touch it. You hated how you would go out on deck and commiserate with everyone else who had lost something far worse than you.

You hated how you already missed the cheap earrings you wore.

Here you were, in the center of progress and luxury and culture, but you’d never looked more like a dirty fucking Rat.

Thankfully, you had no time to dwell on it.

*****

Viktor was always amazed at how easily Jayce could fake ease.

“We have plans to shut down the test circuits in the city. Anything else will remain locked in the lab until further notice,” he told the Council, unwavering.

Viktor dreaded returning to the lab. He liked to think that he was levelheaded, but he knew that, at his core, he was a slave to his reckless, passionate impulses, and nothing ignited that like his work. To have to look it all in the eye and tell it to wait was torture.

“It appears we’re all on the same page, then,” Heimerdinger said.

“They would know better how to regulate themselves than any of us would,” Shoola added, “I am satisfied with this course of action for the company. However, its personnel - and potentially, the rest of Piltover - remain at risk.”

“One of them is the risk,” Salo gave a pointed stare.

It took Viktor a second to remember that he didn’t need to swallow his pride and hold his ground. He followed Salo’s beady eyes back down to your unamused deadpan, bathed in fresh sunlight. You were the risk in the moment.

Even though you bothered to clean up and generally look like you hadn’t just been thrown off a mountain, one could only look so good two days after near death. Jayce had opted to use makeup so his bruises wouldn’t show, exactly because he feared having any imperfections in front of the Council. It was one of the thousands of ways they could brand you as the other.

In spite of that, you wore the battle-hardened mask of injuries with complete sincerity.

Viktor wasn’t sure what to make of that, and he had no interest in ever finding out. Perhaps for the same reason he dreaded returning to the lab; this situation required detachment.

He hadn’t spoken a word to you yet.

When he entered the Council room, you were sitting at the table, discussing something with Jayce. Viktor wanted to interrupt so Jayce wouldn’t have the burden of pretending to be calm for the entire conversation, but when he sat down next to his partner and you peered at him expectantly, he mumbled a “good morning” to his feet and feigned interest in the handle of his cane.

“She’s awaiting trial,” Mel said, “we cannot make any determination until she’s been given a chance in court.”

“While I’m in favor of a fair judicial process, we can’t afford to wait,” Kiramann said, “something must be done sooner rather than later. And when it comes down to the safety of Piltover or the legal rights of a foreign criminal, the choice is clear.”

Viktor looked at you. You looked at Jayce. Jayce looked back at you.

You stood up.

“You don’t have to choose between those,” you began in a languid voice, “and you shouldn’t. Focusing on my alleged crimes is exactly what these pirates would want you to do - waste time on a false lead instead of addressing the greater threat.”

You waited for objections, but to yours and Viktor’s surprise, none came.

“You have a proposition?” Heimerdinger raised a bushy eyebrow.

“I do,” you placed your hands on the table, next to the stack of papers,” I looked over the logs from the night of the attack-”

“And how did ye get access to those?!” Hoskel, who was very pleased with himself, pounded his fists on the table.

“You guys have an open records policy,” you said, almost impressed with how unaware of his own city, “anyway...”

Viktor tuned you out.

“Did you know about this?” he muttered to Jayce.

“She caught me up like 10 minutes before we started.”

“It doesn’t bother you?”

“Why would it bother me?”

“She did it behind our backs.”

“I wouldn’t call it that.”

“What would you call it?”

“Can we talk about this later? I wanna listen.”

But Viktor wanted to talk about it now. All of a sudden, you were the most proactive person in this mystery, after weeks of not doing anything unless absolutely necessary. It was... not suspicious, but Viktor liked to know things.

Jayce was good at faking, though. Perhaps he was pretending to not be bothered to save face.

“...the delay in Enforcer arrival was caused by an issue with the radio system,” you were still talking, “The Public Emergency Radio on the docks were down, so none of the calls that bystanders on the docks made went through to the station. The Enforcers only heard about a crime from the PER by the bridge. I looked at the maintenance reports, and,” you put a new piece of paper on top of the pile, “it said that the resistor inline of the PER on the docks was soldered somewhere it clearly didn’t belong. This is an error that can only be done by human hands and by someone who would have the key to the fusebox.”

You inhaled through your nose.

“The obvious conclusion is sabotage from within the Enforcers, which is something that many people in the station have suspected for a while. If you want to focus your efforts on something, you should conduct a thorough internal investigation of the Enforcers, because there’s at least one spy in there.”

Self-assured doubt began to cloud the Council’s expressions. You glowered.

“Look, pirates expand, okay? If you let this slide, then one day, they won’t just be after Hextech. They’ll go for your jewelry, your booze, your spices...” that got a few of them to straighten their spines, “The longer you leave a spy in there, the harder they are to find. I’ve seen entire enterprises destroyed this way, and it will happen again, unless you nip this in the ass by finding that spy now,” you strained slightly.

Viktor realized that you’d been paying more attention than you let on, with the way that you targeted the specific business interests of the Councilors. For someone who never made an effort to please them, you could be quite convincing when you wanted to be. All that haggling expertise didn’t come from nowhere, he supposed.

It was silent. You didn’t sit down yet, practically challenging one of them to say something.

Finally, someone did.

“Councilors, all due respect, that would be an utter waste of time” the voice was irritated with pride.

Its speaker left the shadowed corner; he had a precise black mustache, geometric brows, and an Enforcer helmet tucked under his arm.

“So is bringing a Helmet to a Council meeting, Mister...” your fingers tightened against the tabe.

“I’m the Sheriff of Piltover,” he stated, directly to you, before turning to the Councilors, “and in all the years I’ve been working for this city, we’ve only increased our internal defenses against spies due to the threat of Undercity subterfuge. Our hiring process is thorough, and we screen for them regularly, which is why I can safely say that there are no agents of the Undercity, or anywhere else, in the Enforcers.”

Somehow, even when the subject was entirely unrelated, the Undercity always came up in Council meetings. Viktor scoffed, but said nothing.

“But how can-”

“Further,” he interrupted, focusing on you again, “I urge the Council to question the integrity of her argument. For all we know, she could be the insurgent, trying to distract us while the real problems go unnoticed,” he folded his hands, “Her character would suggest so.”

“This isn’t about me,” you growled.

“Our testimony would suggest that it is about you, actually,” he pulled a piece of paper from his brest pocket, “One witness reports that you were, and these were their exact words, ‘brutal. without remorse, didn’t even bother with talking, just went straight for the vitals.’”

Viktor’s heart fell into his stomach.

“Now, Councilors, that doesn’t sound like someone who has anyone’s best interest in mind, let alone Piltover’s,” the sheriff concluded, and Viktor felt a new level of guilt.

“You’re taking that out of context,” you said.

“Is that so?” the sheriff put the paper away, “But you still were engaging in such behavior, weren’t you?”

Viktor cringed, sinking down deeper into his seat. His internal logic sounded a lot less valid coming from this pompous asshole’s mouth.

“It was self defense,” you said.

“Right,” the sheriff returned his focus to the Council, as though you were a speck of dust on his shoe, “now, I recommend that we...”

Your palms relaxed. You plopped back back into the chair, defeated, and Viktor never thought that he’d see you give up an argument that easily.

A vote and a disappointment later, you three regrouped in the lobby.

“They’re screwing themselves over,” you tutted, “all the work we’re doing to shut this down is gonna mean nothing.”

“This isn’t our last chance,” Jayce nudged your elbow, “we can always ask again. That sheriff can only damage control so many times.”

Jayce was very convincing. If Viktor hadn’t actually seen him break down yesterday, he would’ve believed that you two were pals and nothing ever happened.

“Right,” you said into your hands, “godsdamnit, of course they had some random asshat’s testimony on file like that,” you surveyed Jayce and Viktor, “I didn’t even know anyone else was watching.”

You locked eyes with Viktor, and before he could anticipate how it would come off, he found himself quickly looking down at the floor with the confidence of a frightened rabbit. If he had to under the spell of the discerning, yet unsuspecting, crinkle in the corners of your eyes for any longer, he might just confess.

Which wasn’t even warranted, he told himself. How was he supposed to know that they would use his words like that?

When he poked his head back up and caught your face, your expression wasn’t unsuspecting anymore.

“I gotta go,” you said suddenly, getting up from your chair, “Alex and I have a dinner date. But I’ll be there early tomorrow.”

“Sounds good. We’ll get started on lockdown. See ya, Pen.”

Viktor only felt that he could breathe again when you closed the door behind you.

“Are you alright, Vik?” Jayce patted his friend’s back without warning.

“Yes-” Viktor regained his composure, “yes, I am fine. I do wonder,” he narrowed his eyes, “how she read those Enforcer logs by herself, though.”

“Oh, Caitlyn helped her,” Jayce said, “they met up at the station.”

“And that doesn’t bother you at all?!”

“Why would it bother me?” Jayce frowned, “Does it bother you?”

“Well-” Viktor swallowed, “I thought that you were interested in keeping tighter security. Penny doing things without us knowing does not align with that.”

“Look, I was a little freaked out earlier, but once I processed all that shit,” Jayce sighed, “I remembered that it’s just Penny. She’s still the same person. And I trust her.”

Ah. Jayce wasn’t faking earlier - he was actually comfortable with you. And so was Caitlyn. Even after everything you’d done. After everything you’d shown yourself to be.

If there was one thing he learned after moving here from Zaun, it was that, despite all the glitz of Piltover, people will eventually show their true selves to you. Especially if they don’t see you as an equal.

And you should always believe them.

“Now, we better get started on clearing out the lab,” Jayce grunted.

“We should divide the labor,” Viktor said lifelessly, “I will remove the test circuits.”

“You sure you wanna do that alone?”

“Yes.”

Viktor refused to be near the Academy any longer. He needed time, away from the vestigial defensive reflexes of his Zaunite heritage, away from reminders of his work, and away from the notion that you ever existed.

*****

You squinted, as though it were any trouble to recognize that silhouette.

You could recognize a lot of things about him now. He stood out from the crowd. Those weren’t just keys on the table, those were Viktor’s keys. That wasn’t just sloppy handwriting, that was Viktor’s sloppy handwriting. And, earlier today, that wasn’t just anyone’s evasive maneuver, that was Viktor’s evasive maneuver.

And he was never evasive. The bastard was hiding something, and you hoped that you were wrong about what it was.

“She had a knife like yours,” Alex said.

Right. You were supposed to be bringing him home. You were sure that he could make it by himself, but given everything that had happened in the last few days and the fact that it was approaching midnight, you weren’t taking any chances.

“Hm?” you tilted your head to the side, refocusing your attention on the winding street.

“That lady. Pearl. She had a knife like yours. I saw it when I went to the bathroom.”

“You sure about that? Mine’s as custom as they come.”

“I didn’t look that close,” he paused, half his face shadowed by the street lamp, “but it did look like yours.”

“Maybe I’ll ask her to see it next time,” you looked at him from the side, “You liked her though, right?”

Though you very much enjoyed dining in the servant’s quarters of the mansion she worked in, you had other reasons to consider the visit a success; she basically confirmed that you could house sit for the winter, starting next week and lasting for a month.

“Oh, yeah,” he said, “I just wish that there were more Rats in Piltover. Monty says I’m not allowed to go to the Undercity.”

You clicked your tongue. You didn’t know much about the family that he lived in, but that sounded like standard fare for Piltover.

“I’m not allowed to go there either,” you said, “but hey, it’s not gonna be like this forever. I’m sure we’ll get to meet them eventually.”

Even if the entire godsdamned city, including Viktor, was working against you.

In the meantime, you could make do with Pearl’s company.

She was happy to find a kindred spirit and you were desperate for one. You got the sense that both of you were not considered worthwhile company by most of Piltover, so it was nice to be wanted for a change. And, despite your initial caution, she was fun to be around; she’d retained her Bilgewater slickness.

You hardly got through your request for a housesitting recommendation before she was on board, saying that she did something similar in her youth and that it was “only right that the people who would actually use a property like this should get to live in it.” Apparently, she’d thrown some wild parties in the ballroom, with her employers none the wiser.

She’d even taken her employer’s best booze from the cellar for that night, though you had to decline since you were on proper painkillers now.

“I don’t get tired of the luxury, because it was never really mine to start with,” she had said, “though, if you ask me, I think being bored out of my skull but filthy rich is a pretty good deal.”

“Maybe so,” you had answered, “though something tells me we’ll never get to find out.”

After you dropped Alex off at his house, you closed the door and leaned against it, resting in the porchlight oasis. Finally, one damn thing had gone right in your life, and you worried that the minute you walked down the stairs of the deck and surrendered yourself back to the quotidian night, you’d lose the feeling.

But Viktor was still there, by himself, looking like a mugger’s dream. You should probably make sure that he didn’t get himself killed.

“You shouldn’t be here by yourself,” you said when you approached him from behind, holding back a smirk when he flinched, “did you learn nothing from that bar ambush?”

His screwdriver stilled, then gently floated away from the open test-circuit reactor. The light around Viktor’s shadow on the cobblestone melted from brassy street lamps to hex crystal blue, which glimmered in his exhausted eyes when he faced you.

“I know that you don’t get out much, but you really ought to find a better hobby than following me,” he leaned against his cane with that smug, self-assured lack of fear that he always had when he realized it was just you.

“Alex’s house is that way,” you jerked your chin towards the street, “in case you forgot. And I think following you is a more worthwhile hobby than giving vindictive, inaccurate testimony to Enforcers.”

He wasn’t surprised at your retort. He just winced, like he’d seen it coming, which had the frightening implication that he recognized the signs of your mood just as easily as you recognized his.

“I did not know they would use it like that,” he said, all too defensive for your liking, “but it was not inaccurate. I was merely telling the truth.”

Something rustled in your coat pocket.

“Oh, bullshit. Jayce saw a lot of the same crap you did, was even more disgusted by it, and they weren’t quoting him in front of the Councilors, so obviously there was a right thing to say, and you didn’t say it.”

“I’m not arguing with you,” he said, though he didn’t turn around.

“Right, because you were so busy working on that circuit,” you gestured to it, “c’mon, I saw you there like five minutes ago. It doesn’t take that long to deactivate,” you curled your lips cruelly, “What? Too worried that you’ll feel some remorse?”

The mass in your pocket was... warm against your upper thigh.

“I’ve been standing here,” Viktor’s words came from the back of his throat, “for four hours, because you could not stop yourself from going fucking berserk and how Hextech is suffering for it. You couldn’t think for a moment about how this would affect anyone other than yourself,” he swallowed, “I am losing everything.”

“I’m sorry?!” you crossed your arms, “Am I hearing that you’d rather lose your life?”

“Oh, don’t start with that,” Viktor rolled his eyes, “no one’s-”

Blue light cracked from your coat pocket. Viktor stopped as a similar surge of magical energy stretched out behind him in bolts. The pen reactor.

You went dead still, wondering if this was really how it ended.

But a few moments passed, and you were both still alive, goggling each other with empty, frightened eyes. You bit your lip and reached down into your pocket with a trembling hand.

The long, smooth grip of the pistol was raging with internal magic, like there were storm clouds lashing out inside of it. You followed the energy back to its cylinder, wrapping your fingers around the center and rattling your bottle of painkillers on the way out of your pocket.

Viktor stepped aside to examine the reactor.

Blue embers radiated from the pistol’s cylinder, as though hot coals burned inside. It didn’t feel like a solid object anymore, but an extension of your body, united with your hand.

Viktor pushed the shutter away. The reactor’s hex crystal emanated the same muted embers. THey were less flashy than normal, but still fluttered with life.

The pistol and the reactor chittered back and forth rhythmically.

You unsheathed your knife from your belt and pressed the tip into the blue edge at the bottom of the cylinder, applying the slightest amount of pressure to open it.

Pop.

You saw the hex crystal inside for only a second before everything went white.

*****

Falling, falling, falling, but with no air careening against you.

It was so godsdamned bright. The inverse of outer space, where, instead of the absence of light, every single molecule reflected it at you all at once, bursting and flashing with lurid vertigo. It felt like you stared into the sun too long and now the rays were extending past your scope, consuming you whole.

It lasted for only a second.

Your feet were on solid ground again, and traces of salt water tickled your nose. Spots clumped in your vision, mitigated by the steely cobalt color of the sky.

The sky... wasn’t like that before. Storm clouds herded above, still an opaque mass as the last strands of light dipped below the horizon. It was not the clear, inky night that you’d come from.

“Hhhng.”

Viktor.

You blinked harshly, forcing the disorientation from your system. You were outside, it was nearing night time, and... and the familiar sound of clinking glass and drunken whoops spun from your right. A strip of dull lantern light came from an open door.

Viktor materialized into focus, standing up, in the same physical condition as he was before, but just as lost as you were. And past him... that couldn’t be.

It was the alleyway that Jayce was attacked in. You’d recognize it anywhere. Scuffed, aging buildings formed a lane to the docks, but as your eye followed them down, the street was lacking something that should’ve been there, and it made you sick.

It should’ve been coated with thick, white snow, shoveled into small piles on the side so the crunchy salt could break apart the thin sheet of ice on the road.

But there was nothing. The streets were clear, like it had never snowed at all. And the ocean was angry.

Anxiety twanged in your chest.

You looked at Viktor, distracted by the street, and apparently coming to the same conclusion as you. Something was very, very wrong.

And then your own voice, scratchy and free and spent, and curled around your ears. But you hadn’t said anything.

You cleared your throat, confirming that, yes, your vocal chords were still under your control, but the onslaught of your own words, entirely divorced from your being, continued.

Jayce’s brazen voice replied.

“Do...” your voice cracked, and Viktor turned around, “do you hear that?”

He paused, listening intently to the inside of the bar. And his eyes were wider than you’d ever seen when he heard his own voice blurt something out, the unmistakable accent even thicker with booze.

You crept into the doorway, barely touching the edge with your fingers. Another sensation would send you overboard. The asymmetrical beat of Viktor’s footsteps followed behind you.

Moving just one eye out, you took a peek at the bar.

Every poet from every country from every lifetime could not describe the uncanniness of seeing yourself from the outside. It wasn’t real, it didn’t feel real, because there was no way that was you, because things like this did not happen. You were not supposed to be an object on a plane, you were the damn plane.

It was like those trick paintings, where everything looks okay on the surface, but as you notice more macabre details the only picture you get is just how little you know about the world being presented to you. Every small thing about yourself sent a rolling wave of dissociated, horrified deja vu. And yet you couldn’t pull yourself away.

You felt faint.

And it only got worse when you saw the back of the original man with the pistol, the motherfucker that drugged your friends and tried to shoot you, sitting at the bar. The same young man hiding behind a still-developing beard. His pistol, a creamy silver, was sturdily attached at the hip.

He didn’t see you spying on him, as he was intensely focused on other you getting up from the table with a half empty mug of rum and beckoning to the bartender.

You took a seat right next to him and faced away, leaving your drink on the table.

Gods, you were an idiot.

You were watching everything go wrong in slow motion. The bartender went around back to get you some fresh mint, and you passively engaged in conversation with someone sitting farther down the bar.

The pirate fingered a bottle of clear liquid, passed it over your drink like a ghost, and left the bar counter without you noticing. He faded into some far off corner, waiting for you to take the bait.

He must’ve already gotten Jayce and Viktor, then. So what stopped this drug from getting to you? And better yet, what would stop you from beat his ass this very moment instead of letting past you take the lead an hour from now.

You couldn’t just attack him, you knew better than to run head first into... whatever was going on. But, for comfort, your hand raced down to your belt and closed around the hilt of your knife. Your bottle of painkillers rattled in your pocket.

Painkillers. The ones that made you vomit when combined with alcohol.

You’d asked the bartender for mint. You were making a mojito, which you’d thrown up that night.

And then you understood that all of this had already happened to you, and your intervention was an important part of saving this night. But you had to do it now.

You edged further into the bar, pressing your palm down on the cap of the painkillers.

This was a bad idea.

You crammed a chalky white pill between your fingers. Your drink was open. The bartender was gone. No one would notice.

This was a bad idea.

Jayce and Viktor were enraptured by a debate with each other about... something stupid probably. Your heartbeat was fast.

This was a bad idea.

“Wait here,” you said to your Viktor, the one looming over your shoulder, who was too stunned with anything to reply.

This was a bad idea. You can’t change the past.

But clearly, you already had.

You blacked out for a bit. You forgot to breathe the entire time as you snaked out from your hallway and hugged the edge of the bar, trying and failing to act casual.

You were less than a foot away from yourself when you stalled, because that was you, right there. Your back was facing you, and you could’ve reached out and touched it.

But this timeline was meant to be changed, even if you had to be the one to do it.

So, when the pill slipped from your hands, into the shallow pool of Whalefall and rum at the bottom of your mug, with past you none the wiser, you felt a rush of raw determination. Everything would be okay.

You retreated into the hallway, a stop on your way back into the alleyway. Viktor just watched you, shaking.

“Did... did you-” he whispered as you gave yourself a final glance before you left the premises.

Your attention returned to your drink after the bartender gave you the mint you asked for. You scooted off the chair and joined Jayce and Viktor again, about the mix the mojito that would’ve been your doom.

“C’mon, let’s-”

A fading conversation bounced down the alleyway. You saw them from the corner of your eye.

Jayce’s attackers, lying in wait. You were fucked if you went back down the alleyway.

“Shit. Fuck. Fuck. Shit,” you muttered.

You couldn’t just walk through the bar either, not when you looked like you had just seen a ghost. You needed time to think. To come up with a plan.

But you were trapped.

You hastily backed into the bathroom, brushing against Viktor’s chest as you pushed his immobile body with you.

You shut the door and twisted the lock with numb hands.

“This can’t- I can’t- what the fuck-” Viktor panted. He was on the verge of hyperventilating.

You turned and leaned against the door, realizing for the first time since you’d arrived here that the gun was gone.

Well, shit.

The bathroom was tiny; the bare necessities of a rusty sink, soap, a hand towel, and a toilet were surrounded by aged wooden walls reminiscent of a ship’s head.

Not the time to reminisce.

“What- what did you do?” Viktor collapsed onto the toilet, rubbing his face with the heels of his hand.

“I, uh- I think I just drugged my own drink,” you said blankly, “so that I would throw up that shit they put in it. And then I could...” you trailed off.

“No! I mean-” Viktor caught a breath, “what... what happened? Why are we here? Is this... this is real, right?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, “this... is real.”

“The reactor, and the... it must have been affected, and transported us...”

“Into the past,” you finished slowly, “when it connected with...”

“What was in that gun?!” his voice cracked, “Why did...”

“It came from the guy,” you said, “the first one I killed when I... when I came for you. The one we just saw. It was his...”

“And it connected with the gun from the past, meaning that we-” he groaned, anger gradually replacing the confusion, “And you- why did you have it?!” he snapped.

“Hey! This isn’t all me, okay, it did some shit with that reactor too!”

“Of all the godsdamned places we could go!” he threw his arms in the air, “And now we’re stuck here.”

“We’re not stuck,” you said, “We’ve got time before... everything happens. We’ll just wait for our opening and then-”

“And then what?! Get involved with all of this crap again?” he chuckled mirthlessly, “Oh you would like that, wouldn’t you?”

“I was making sure that we don’t die just now, dickweed!” you howled, “I don’t wanna see any of this shit again!”

“If you don’t want to see it again, then maybe you shouldn’t have done it to begin with.”

And finally, the cord inside of you that was wound so tight around your emotions broke in hafl.

“Alright, that’s it!” you slammed your hand down on the sink counter, “Did I do something wrong? I don’t understand how saving your bitch ass could possibly be a fuck up on my end, but I assure you I will not repeat that mistake.”

“Again with this rescue drivel! You can give it a rest, no one else is here.”

“You think I did all that shit, to them, to me, for fun?!”

“I don’t know why you did it, but it’s not because you wanted to help me,” he hissed.

“What the fuck are you talking about?!”

“You may have everyone else on your side,” he pointed a bony finger at your chest, “but you made a mistake. And I’ll tell you where you made a mistake.”

HIs spit shined in the artificial light, disturbing the dust mites suspended in the air.

“You came back for me,” he barked, “and if you think for a godsdamned second that I believe you came back, risked yourself, not even for my life but just for my wellbeing, with no ulterior motive, then you are dumber than you look,” he said, “You did not do anything for me. You did it for yourself because you wanted an excuse to do all that. I know it.”

He was sweating. He was hurting. And you were so, so close to channeling your turbulence and bewilderment straight into your fists, because you didn’t even have a good answer.

But then he said those words, and everything fell into place.

*****

“I’ve seen who you are in the dark, and you’re a monster.”

None of the catharsis that was supposed to be there came. You blinked once, twice, overflowing with nothing, like a dormant volcano.

The patter of footsteps outside was deafening.

And then your hands moved, and Viktor thought you were going to kill him.

BUt instead your fingers, steadier than he’d ever seen, met at the collar of your shirt and undid the first button. The fabric shifted as you inhaled.

“See, the thing about a lot of what happens on ships,” your cadence was stony, “is that it’s designed to not be debilitating, but to still hurt like hell.”

Viktor didn’t answer, watching as you weaved down to the second button.

“Injuries that you can still do your job with. You get this little jolt of pain every time that you move.”

You crept down to the third button.

“And you can see it for a while after if you look. Because they don’t want you to forget.”

The fourth. The placid mauve color of your bra poked through, and though Viktor was very briefly tempted to follow the luscious line of your chest, the rapid descent of your hands and the severity in your voice killed the thought.

“And if you’ve been sailing for a while, and it happens over and over again...”

The fifth.

“Then you get something to show for it.”

The sixth. You turned around and peeled the shirt off your back.

Starting at your shoulder blades and extending to beyond your pants was an explosion of scars. They were raised, long, and straight, overlapping with each other but occasionally grouping together in parallel rows as though they’d come from some vicious, clawed animal. There were so many.

The craggy lines reminded Viktor of a map, perhaps a conglomerate of rivers or mountains, but only on the surface. These were far too angry, tangled with each other like they were trying to suffocate themselves, yet aged into your skin like hieroglyphics.

Whip scars. Viktor did not need to ask where they came from.

After a small eternity, in which Viktor fought off the urge to reach out and trace them with this finger, you pulled your shirt over your back and turned around, leaving your clavicle exposed as you addressed him.

“Because everywhere has monsters,” your voice was almost a whisper as you snared his eyes with your own, narrowed ones, “and I’ve seen Bilgewater’s. I’m reminded of what they’re capable of every single day.”

You straightened your posture, and the sharp corners of your eyelids softened in a way only Viktor could notice.

“Is it so wrong of me to want to protect you from that?”

The silence sighed.

Peals of laughter - laughter from you and Viktor and Jayce - bled through the bathroom door. Yet Viktor said nothing.

And he wanted to say everything.

He had a million answers to your question, and a million questions for you to answer, and a million grievances to take up with the gods themselves, and as they were all tearing his mind apart in every direction and giving him a searing headache, he couldn’t stop plunging himself into your frustrated, yet painfully earnest gaze as you waited for a single answer that he would never have.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” you said, pressing yourself against the door and buttoning your shirt. All the ire had evaporated, and left disappointment in its place.

You expected him to be better - not just expected, even, but worked for it. Put yourself out there, in the cold, cruel world to keep him on track, because you thought he had something worth protecting.

And the worst part was that he could be better than this, but the thought of letting you down was suddenly so terrifying, that he didn’t know where to begin,

He had to try, though. He couldn’t miss his chance.

“I... I thought it was too good to be true,” he said softly.

You laughed.

“Oh, really? That was what was too good to be true, Mr. Heimerdinger’s assistant who does break-ins on the side?” your fake smile dropped, “Don’t fucking patronize me.”

Viktor raised a melancholy eyebrow.

“Being Heimerdinger’s assistant was too good to be true,” he said, embarrassed for some reason.

And... he’d lost you. You rolled your eyes and prepared to sit down on the floor, but, before Viktor even thought about it, he gently grabbed your knuckles.

“No, please, you don’t understand,” he stammered, looking past your pupils.

Your face was still, and Viktor could really focus on your ear and nose while you were awake, with everything he knew about you to evaluate it against.

And despite his best efforts, all he saw was someone who had been through a lot, and was putting even more on hold so they could listen to him speak. The least he could do was give them a worthwhile explanation.

“I- those years, when I had to work the hardest job on campus just to say there, to even have a chance at making something of myself... those were some of the worst years of my life. I hate the story of how I became Herimerdinger’s assistant.”

He exhaled, keeping himself together for your sake.

“But everyone knows it, because people in Piltover love to tell it. Without my permission, too. It makes them feel comfortable in their system; that somehow, the people who ‘deserve’ to be here will always find their way to Piltover, even if they have to deal with a lot of... eh, bullshit.”

Your hand was smaller in his own. He had your attention, but he kept holding it.

“Every success that I’ve had here is like that. You have seen it with how people, the Council, treat Hextech. Piltover talks about my- our wellbeing in times like these, yet in reality, they could not care less about what happens to us as long as they get what they want,” he said, “And what- what I’m trying to say is that, when things started to go bad, when we were losing Hextech, and when I was very angry, and I wasn’t thinking straight, I thought that you were one of those people. And that was upsetting because-”

Everything he thought to say here made him sound like an office manager or the world’s biggest sap. Because I value your company? Because you remind me of the person I want to be, even when I feel like crap? Because I finally understand you, and I keep wanting to know more?

He heard himself guffawing in the bar. He remembered this laugh - you had just recounted the time that you had to pretend to be Freljordian, but only knew the swear words in the language.

In a few minutes, Viktor would feel comfortable enough to recall the time that he accidentally brought Heimerdinger a smut novel instead of the biology text he requested, because of the similar covers.

“Because I really thought we were starting to be friends,” he said sheepishly, “even though I have not acted like one in the past few days,” he placed his other hand on top of your knuckles, “and I am truly sorry.”

You sharply exhaled and looked at your shoes before returning the eye contact with curious resolve.

“Piltover doesn’t deserve you, y’know,” you said bluntly.

Viktor understood Jayce’s apprehension with the company now. He would shut the entire thing down to prevent anything like this from falling on you.

“Perhaps not, but... you risked your life and I still get to be here. I cannot thank you enough,” he squeezed his hand, “And Penny, I promise you that as long as I have something to say about it, you will not be in that position again.”

However impossible that was, he meant every word. Precious few people ever considered him something to be deserved, and even fewer defended it with their bare chest and back.

And there was only one you.

“Psh, alright,” you pulled your hand away, leaving Viktor to grasp at the cold, “apology accepted, don’t overcomplicate it. Now you know... cause we’re both kinda fucked, so we gotta watch out for each other, right?

You smiled, slightly apologetic for killing the atmosphere, and a bit... nervous? Your hands were fidgeting.

More laughter came from inside the bar.

“Indeed,” Viktor sat back down on the lid of the toilet, “we do.”

“And, uh, don’t worry about trying to make it up or anything. You’ve helped me before. We’re equal.”

“That was different,” Viktor didn’t know exactly what you were referring to, but he assumed that none of it had the same weight.

“It still meant a lot,” you insisted, “and besides, things wouldn’t have gotten this far if I hadn’t avoided talking about the whole, uh, murder party, so...”

From the onset of tact in your voice and the way that your body froze as you tried to process a single emotion, Viktor could tell that you meant it. Yes, you were a tad emotionally constipated, but liked you as you were.

He stayed silently committed to his promise.

“We should... leave here,” he changed the subject

“Yeah. Shouldn’t be too hard, now that we’re not acting too suspicious or anything, so I think we’ll just wait for our opening and go out the front without attracting any attention,” you cracked open the bathroom door, surveying the minefield of potential sightings, “only trouble is that we don’t really have anywhere to go after that.”

“There is one place we could go,” Viktor said.

After a nerve-wracking fifteen minutes of watching bar customers slowly clear out as the night got darker, you two left with a large wave of them, making it into the outside’s chilled embrace without a hitch.

You broke apart the awkwardness with commentary about the snow that just started to fall, saying that you were “a fan of this frozen precipitation,” to which Viktor chuckled at through his exhaustion.

The last stop on your journey was a call made at the PER by the bridge to the Enforcers, to report your own incident. Viktor got to hear your terrible Freljordian accent again as you faked being a Helga Olafersson.

And you left Piltover, the memories of the bar, and any other bullshit behind as you crossed the bridge, side by side, to the Undercity.

~ End Notes ~

Your daily reminder to not tell shit to cops

End Credits Song: "The Night" by Frankie Valli & The Four Seasons

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schizoscribbles · 1 year

Text

One Normal Night

SCHIZOSCRIBBLES

Viktor x Reader

1-M!Reader 2-F!Reader 3-GN!Reader

-- -- -- -- -- -- --

Synopsis:

Viktor passes out after a restless week at the lab, and you have to be the one to take care of him.

Warnings:

Angsty-ish[?]

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

MALE READER

𝒯he door to the small apartment creaked open with a rusty sigh, the sound of Viktor's cane tapped against the wooden floors as he stepped through the threshold; a cough echoing throughout the home. Viktor sighed as his blurry vision made his steps wobbly as his physical strength depleted, soon he was out on the floor.

Viktor came to in his bed with his boyfriend, [Name], next to him in a chair. He looked like he'd been crying with his red puffy eyes and glittery cheeks, if Viktor hadn’t known he had been crying because of him, he would’ve thought he was beautiful. Viktor saw [Name] shift as he slowly woke up; Viktor smiled at him,

“Hello, my love.” he said weakly, [Name]’s face contorted into a painful expression as he leaned forward to look at Viktor closely, as if observing him.

“Vik..” he started, “Why haven’t you been taking care of yourself?” Viktor closed his eyes as he felt [Name]’s hand caress his face, he let out a breath and opened his eyes. “I’m sorry, dove.” he said, nuzzling into his lover’s hand. “I just...It’s been hard to do anything other than work on Jayce and I’s hextech plans. I have to constantly plan out this speech or this event and on top of it all I’m working on the hex-core.” Viktor let his thoughts spill out of his mouth like water to a broken dam, [Name] sat and listened to his struggles as he simply nodded in response.

“I...I truly am sorry, dove” Viktor said again, looking off to the side, “It's alright, Vik. You have nothing to apologize for.” Viktor looked back at him, “But, I have neglected you! I’ve been so caught up I haven’t been able to return home to spend time with you.” [Name] giggled to himself and leaned in to kiss Viktor’s forehead, “Honey, I don’t care weither or not you spend much time with me. I only care about weither or not you take care of yourself.”

Viktor leaned into [Name]’s forehead, not allowing him to back away; he let out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding, and he kissed him. “First step,” [Name] said “take a bath, you smell like burnt rubber.” he giggled, Viktor rolled his eyes “That would be you, my dear.” they laughed at each other and soon [Name] was preparing a bath for his poor boyfriend and helping him take care of himself. “I love you, dove” Viktor said, kissing the side of [Name]’s head as he passed him to enter the bathroom; “I love you too, Vik” he smiled.

----

FEMALE READER

Viktor came to in his bed with his girlfriend, [Name], next to him in a chair. She looked like she'd been crying with her red puffy eyes and glittery cheeks, if Viktor hadn’t known she had been crying because of him, he would’ve thought she was beautiful. Viktor saw [Name] shift as she slowly woke up; Viktor smiled at her,

“Hello, my love.” he said weakly, [Name]’s face contorted into a painful expression as she leaned forward to look at Viktor closely, as if observing him.

“Vik..” she started, “Why haven’t you been taking care of yourself?” Viktor closed his eyes as he felt [Name]’s hand caress his face, he let out a breath and opened his eyes. “I’m sorry, dove.” he said, nuzzling into his lover’s hand. “I just...It’s been hard to do anything other than work on Jayce and I’s hextech plans. I have to constantly plan out this speech or this event and on top of it all I’m working on the hex-core.” Viktor let his thoughts spill out of his mouth like water to a broken dam, [Name] sat and listened to his struggles as she simply nodded in response.

“I...I truly am sorry, dove” Viktor said again, looking off to the side, “It's alright, Vik. You have nothing to apologize for.” Viktor looked back at her, “But, I have neglected you! I’ve been so caught up I haven’t been able to return home to spend time with you.” [Name] giggled to herself and leaned in to kiss Viktor’s forehead, “Honey, I don’t care weither or not you spend much time with me. I only care about weither or not you take care of yourself.”

Viktor leaned into [Name]’s forehead, not allowing her to back away; he let out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding, and he kissed her. “First step,” [Name] said “take a bath, you smell like burnt rubber.” she giggled, Viktor rolled his eyes “That would be you, my dear.” they laughed at each other and soon [Name] was preparing a bath for her poor boyfriend and helping him take care of himself. “I love you, dove” Viktor said, kissing the side of [Name]’s head as he passed her to enter the bathroom; “I love you too, Vik” she smiled.

---

GENDER NEUTRAL READER

Viktor came to in his bed with his partner, [Name], next to him in a chair. They looked like they'd been crying with their red puffy eyes and glittery cheeks, if Viktor hadn’t known they had been crying because of him, he would’ve thought they were beautiful. Viktor saw [Name] shift as they slowly woke up; Viktor smiled at them,

“Hello, my love.” he said weakly, [Name]’s face contorted into a painful expression as they leaned forward to look at Viktor closely, as if observing him.

“Vik..” they started, “Why haven’t you been taking care of yourself?” Viktor closed his eyes as he felt [Name]’s hand caress his face, he let out a breath and opened his eyes. “I’m sorry, dove.” he said, nuzzling into his lover’s hand. “I just...It’s been hard to do anything other than work on Jayce and I’s hextech plans. I have to constantly plan out this speech or this event and on top of it all I’m working on the hex-core.” Viktor let his thoughts spill out of his mouth like water to a broken dam, [Name] sat and listened to his struggles as they simply nodded in response.

“I...I truly am sorry, dove” Viktor said again, looking off to the side, “It's alright, Vik. You have nothing to apologize for.” Viktor looked back at them, “But, I have neglected you! I’ve been so caught up I haven’t been able to return home to spend time with you.” [Name] giggled to themselves and leaned in to kiss Viktor’s forehead, “Honey, I don’t care weither or not you spend much time with me. I only care about weither or not you take care of yourself.”

Viktor leaned into [Name]’s forehead, not allowing they to back away; he let out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding, and he kissed them. “First step,” [Name] said “take a bath, you smell like burnt rubber.” they giggled, Viktor rolled his eyes “That would be you, my dear.” they laughed at each other and soon [Name] was preparing a bath for their poor boyfriend and helping him take care of himself. “I love you, dove” Viktor said, kissing the side of [Name]’s head as he passed them to enter the bathroom; “I love you too, Vik” they smiled.

-----

#viktor arcane #viktor #x male reader #x female reader #x gender neutral reader #viktor x male reader #viktor x fem!reader #viktor x gn reader #fanfiction #x reader #arcane #arcane fanfic

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ursawastricked · 1 year

Text

Distracting: Part 2

Viktor has been harboring guilt over his accidental thievery of your used champagne glass. At least he had the security that you were none the wiser..that doesn't change that your even harder to ignore now that he spent the weekend studying your lip print

warnings: More of Viktor's developing crush on you, lots of flashback to after the party, him being soft, some VERY mild suggestive stuff..don’t worry more is to come in the next part

Read part 1 here

Word count : 2,339

“Is the sun always that bright?” Viktor whined, covering his gaze as he hurried over toward the window, leaning toward it and squinting disaprovingly at the sunny world beyond it, before pulling on the shades and banishing the light. His head didnt exactly pound anymore, but he had a way of ending up hung over whenever he drank, call it his low weight, or the fact that his anatomy consistently seemed against him, if there was alcohol, it hurts the next day.

“I think it always stays like that Vik '' you answer, earning an unimpressed glance your way as he limps toward his desk and places down his bag. You stretch your arms upward, humming lightly as you feel the satisfying crackle in your spine and knuckles. You personally, feel wonderful. After the party over the weekend, you peeled away your dress and were fast to slip into a hot bath, allowing for your sore muscles to relax and let you practically fall into a perfectly restful weekend. You dont recall too much other than resting on your couch, reading the current novel that had infected your every thought, one you had also slipped into your bag for today when the lab was getting a little boring.

“Ugh..” You hear Viktor let out a relch at the sound of your joints popping, “Why, every morning..That isnt good for you, and it is worse to listen to” He lectured, placing himself in his chair, slowly turning to face you so that his point would get across. You mimic him immedietly, a practiced motion, turning to face him, and mirroring his posture and how his fingers laced together on his knee. He flashed yet another disaproving look, this time punctuated with a, “Rude”.

You snicker lightly, returning yourself to face your desk. Unpacking your bag only takes another minute or so, that moment remaining silent as you and Viktor set up for today's work load. The silence was normal, especially with Viktor, but that's why you liked working with him. While you could spend hours talking with Jayce, bouncing back and forth in a hyper focused frenzy, you much more enjoyed the comfortable silence of working next to Viktor. You had developed a ritual of passing back and forth materials and tools as you worked simultaneously on projects.

He was always respectful, never intentionally touching you without reason, and if he did bump you, he was quick to apologize, which you enjoyed only because of how flustered he got when he began to stumble over words so fast he began to slip into his native language. Or when he would tap you lightly with a pencil, and you would turn to see what he needed, only for him to lean over your notebook and scribble something down, like a warning before he did so.

You had caught yourself memorizing his little mannerisms over time, keeping a small tally at the top corner of your pages for every time he had tricked you into letting him fix a note, or murmured a word you didnt recognize when fidgeting with a new project. It relaxed you, like a little grounding tool to keep your mind occupied when you had tired yourself with your work, a healthy distraction. So you lazily flipped open your notebook to the current page, doodling a little box for today's tallies before pulling the sheet off your current project and beginning your busy work. Viktor sat quietly as he began his project, as usual. He had just gone for his wrench when he caught movement in the corner of his eyes, a familiar motion he had memorized, you're playing with your hair again. His gaze tracks the motion, how the tufts flutter about, if he was closer like last time, he was sure he would be able to smell the shampoo you used again..if he was correct in assuming, it smelt like honey. He didnt notice he was staring until you turned your head and caught him. Your eyes lock with his golden gaze for a short moment, a blissful second of eyecontact between you, before he caught it and you watched his gaze flicker around, his head turning swiftly before settling back on his work and his form shrank down far too close to his project to be safe, but successfully he had avoided the chance of you seeing how harshly his face darkened red. His breath was shaky, as he struggled to keep it low enough that you coculdnt hear. How frustrating, it had been getting harder to avoid your prying eyes, more tedious to avoid you catching him logging your smiles, and even harder to keep up conversations without smiling too much, and you had only added another level to it with that damned glass. That weekend, he had smuggled that stupid glass away from the party. He didnt know why, in fact he was sure it was a trance when he walked into him and Jayce shared an apartment, only to find the empty champagne glass still tucked in his palm. Jayce locked the door as Viktor considered what could have happened to end up here, now a thief..through the glass couldn’t be too expensive, it felt rather cheap.

“What's that you got there?” Jayce asked, leaning over Viktor and causing him the flinch, almost hard enough to send the delicate glass shattering across the floor. He gripped it tighter, giving one of his famously annoyed glances. Jayce lifted his brows, motioning specifically toward the rouge lipstain at the edge.

“Oh? Oh hoho..that color there looks pretty familiar” Jayce had started to tease, his chest was starting to bob with a deep chuckle, the kind he had always given when he was preparing to tease him.

Viktor felt the stab of anxity in his stomach, looking quickly between Jayce’s knowing gaze and the glass before he squirmed a bit away, trying to hide away in his room, fast.

“I dont want to talk about it.” He insisted, tucking away into his room and quickly hiding away the used glass in his closet with a slam.

“Talk about what? Did they give it to you or did you mean to steal it?” Jayce practically howled as he leaned into Viktors room, watching as his friend as he struggled to undo his tie with furious aggression, only getting more incense the longer he struggled. With a loud huff he finally undid it, now wrestling with his shirt vest,

“I didn’t mean t- I didnt steal it from them” He insisted, pulled off the vest before landing on his bed and taking off his shoes, “Oh..so you're not denying it anymore?” Viktor froze, his hands ceasing shakily over his cufflinks. Jayce smirked teasingly, suppressing another laugh until Viktor flung a loose shoe toward him. He quickly took the hint, “Okay! Okay! Good night loverboy-” He laughed, slipping away and leaving Viktor flushed violently and gripping his hair as he fell back into his bed.

At least now he could let his face cool down now that you were no longer watching him, it of course was easier to work and ignore you for a few minutes at a time. Until..

“Hey guys! Sorry I'm late,” Jayce hollered, bursting through the door, nearly tripping over the doorway and spilling the offering of coffe for the trio.

Yes, Viktor was screwed now. Jayce knew, he dditn know to what extent, but he did know. He knew about the glass.

“Here ya go,” Jayce chirped, handing you a coffee with that stupid winning smile.

“Aw, thanks ya goof. You know, you could just not be late, then you wouldn't need to get us coffee every monday.” You explain, sipping the drink as you watch him float off toward Viktor who had frozen solid since the door opened.

“Then I would miss out on your winning smile, you have a very special smile when you get surprised by coffee” He replied, twirling around to the other side of an unresponsive Viktor. He placed the cup beside his friend's hand, leaning over his shoulder to whisper where you couldnt hear.

“I got you the same order, in case you want to ‘swap’ cups again,” He hummed, almost getting hit as Viktor swatted him away. Jayce snickered quietly, slipping away to his own work.

Viktor sat staring at his coffee for a few moments, regrettably reaching for it. Coffee was essential, how unfortunate that it was a gift from Jayce..he drank it non the less, pressing his lips to the lid and gulping down a few mouthfulls and returning finally to an average working pace.

“Vik? Are you there?” Viktor snapped out of his focused state, turning toward the sound before pulling off his goggles and finding you much closer than he expected you to be. You stoof next to him, leaning a little over his side after spending the past minute or so trying to get his attention. You tilted your head, giving an amused huff as you slipped some papers to his desk. “Thank Janna the fire alarm wasn’t going off, you would be cooked by now.” He blinked, glancing from you to the papers a few times before turning to read them better. He pulled them from the table, acutely aware of the fleeting warmth your hands had left.

“Hmm..yes, and I'm sure in wouldn’t notice the heat or pain either,” he replied, looking over your notes with a similar, less intense, focus.

“I wouldnt be surprised, you kinda run on autopilot when you're zoned out. Once you stole my pencil for the day after fixing my notes”, You pull yourself up on the desk, crossing your legs and watching as he scribbles down corrections to your equasions. “And you have yet to return that novel I let you borrow, you're kind of a clepto.”

“I am not a ‘clepto’” he huffed, adjusting one of your notes, biting on the edge of his pencil,

“That's my pencil..”

He pulled it away from his teeth, inspecting it for any signs he may recognize. He flipped it in his hand, finding your initials etched into the wood..

“Ah..so it is..” he muttered, finishing his edits before offering you the pencil.

“No, you keep it.” You say, declining the chewed on pencil and snatching up your papers. You hug them to your chest, walking a step or two before leaning down close to his ear, “Add it to your little collection,” you purr, straightening up and hurrying toward Jayce for a final opinion.

Viktor stills in his seat, holding the pencil loosely between his fingers and staring blankely at the edge of the desk. He twitched his hand lightly, unable to do much more after that.

You were so close..he still felt the warmth of your breath across his throat, the memory of it sending a static shiver down his spine, causing him to lean over his desk and place his head againstt his hands. You were warm, even though you hadnt touched him, and being so close, he could confirm..your shampoo smells like honey.And when you sat on his desk, he had fought every instinct in his body not to look at you, not when you sat above him like that. Your legs crossed, leaned over his work. If he reached over, he could have confirmed another theory, whether or not your thighs were as soft as they looked- Damn it, focus. He coudln’t be doing this, not here. You were no less than a yard away and all he couldnt think about was how good you smelt, how your breath felt against his neck..how your lipstain would look against his skin. He had noticed you were wearing the same color as before.

‘Stop it. They work with you.’

He grabbed his coffee, sipping it aimlessly.

The night after the party, Viktor had sat staring at the single stained glass on his desk. He had pulled it out to clean it, thinking at least he could put it in the kitchen and just forget all about his accidentale thievery. Instead, he had ended up watching it, as if it would squirm or come to life if he only watched for long enough.

He didnt clean it..he let it sit on his desk and continued on with his day. On occasion he would glance at it, sometimes walking over and holding it to closely inspect the print of your lips left on its crystal edge. He always rounded back to it, replaying the memory of you in that dress, giving him the rest of your drink..you smiled..maybe you knew- of course you didnt. Why would you know? He was good about hiding it, right? He didn’t think he made it too obvious, maybe stareing a bit longer than he should have, or that one instance where he had to hide the smile tally from you when you had seemingly manifested beside him.

Before he had slept that night, he absentmindenly brought it with him to the kitchen..he ment to clean it..but instead he had filled it, nursing down a bit of wine to trick his brain into sleeping. Maybe even allow for a dream similar to the events of the party..with less of him standing alone.

He groaned lightly to himself, standing and grabbing his crutch before walking across the room toward the door.

“Everything ok Viktor?” Jayce asked, pulling his attention away from the blackboard,

“Just need some fresh air..” Viktor replied, escaping the lab, and making his way down the hall.

After a walk his head would be clear enough to work again. He would be able ti at least make some progress on the assignment without his thoughts drifting back to how your uniform looked against your skin, or how pretty your voice sounded when you gifted him your stolen pencil..

“Add it to your little collection..”

He paused..eyes wide. “Oh..no..”

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aikoiya · 1 year

Text

Arcane Prompt - JayVik x Female Who Struggles With Emotional Blunting

JayVik x Fem!Reader who struggles with dysthymia, her symptoms being anhedonia (lack of enjoyment), apathy, & lack of motivation. Generally very stoic due to past trauma, she's working through it slowly.

This tends to make her a very level-headed, down-to-earth, rational, logical, & reasonable person, who tries to see both sides of an argument before making decisions. She operates on logic & is a very introspective person. Is often the mediator in fights due to these things. Often, she will sit down with one side of the argument to listen to their perspective before approaching the other side to relay their feelings in a way that the other can understand. Then, she'll listen to the other argumentor to get their perspective & feelings before relaying that to the first in a way that they can hopefully understand as well. All the while giving comfort when needed.

This tends to make her come across as a bit of a busy body & nosy, but honestly, she just wants people to understand each other.

In this way, she becomes a middlewoman or fight translator.

Very much enjoys debate, especially civilized debate where both sides are open to each others' arguments & willing to admit when the other has a point, thus adjusting their perspectives accordingly. Is quite skilled in diplomacy, but does not dance around issues. Instead being very forthright & honest, at times even being very blunt.

Will give a little chuckle of appreciation if she thinks a joke is clever or witty enough even if it didn't quite strike her funny bone.

Has high emotional intelligence or intuition due to the years of her trying to overcome her own lack of emotions despite having very low empathy. Legitimately wants to be a good person if for no other reason than because she wants to.

Despite having blunted emotions, she tries to be an empathetic & compassionate person despite typically not feeling much for those around her. Going out of her way to try & understand the perspectives of those around her.

She can feel, just not very much unless a chord has been struck inside her just right.

Like, you know you're funny if you have her breathless & in tears from laughing. I can see Jayce & Viktor both becoming enamored with her genuine laugh & becoming determined to make her make that sound as much as possible.

Though, on the flipside, when she cries, she's very quiet & tries to refrain from making sound. A silent sufferer.

Or when, like say, a new installment of her absolute favorite book series comes out & she becomes a giggly, wiggling mess to express her excitement.

Other than in these specific situations, her emotions are little more than twinges.

Sassy & kind, enjoys making dry jokes because even if she has trouble feeling, she likes to see others smile & laugh.

If either of her boys are going through things, pays expressed attention to them & makes sure that they know that she's there for them. Making herself emotionally available for them. Is well versed in the art of comforting & easily steps into the spot of someone's rock. Even if all they let her do is sit there with them quietly, holding their hand as they process their emotions.

Her motivation is very, very low due to her condition, so it takes a herculean effort on her part to move forward. Despite that, her determination is insane, so that helps. However, because of this, her forward progression feels empty at times.

She resents her emotional bunting, wishing that she could feel more as she finds that it hampers her enjoyment of life. Yet, despite this, she still tries to live her life as full as possible.

Studies psychology & neurology in an attempt to better understand herself & others.

Because of this, Reader is very, very against Viktor getting rid of his emotions. It's one of the few times that she actually feels the heat of real anger in her chest because it's like he thought her struggles were inconsequential.

So, she laid it out like he was a 3 year old. No emotions means no motivation or desires. No motivation or desires means no moving unless you have to. Then, if he actually manages to get rid of all his physical needs (which is impossible with the current level of technology; as it stands, organic brains are still FAR superior to anything technology could make for information storage, data processing, logic, & problem solving, at least in terms of space; which would mean that he'd still need blood, oxygen, food, & sleep to keep his brain alive & healthy due to the brain being made of cells & cells require oxygen to work correctly, while the brain requires fuel from food, which is broken down into usable nutrients by the stomach & then brought to the brain via the blood; meaning he requires, at the very least, his brain, heart, lungs, & stomach), he won't move at all unless he has an internalized program forcing him to do things. At which point, he'll have stripped away his own free will, turning himself into a big, metal puppet.

Reader: "If you won't listen to the woman who personally experiences a lack of emotion & struggles with it daily, wishing with what little want that she can muster that she could really, truly enjoy life again. Then, maybe you'll listen to the woman who's been studying the human mind for years & can back up what she says with scientific facts. Oh, wait! They're both me! Maybe emotions do color one's logic, but only if you let them control you rather than the other way around. It's better than living a drab, colorless life where nothing really, truly matters to you! I live in quiet dread that I might one day wake up & feel absolutely nothing for anyone or anything especially you & Jayce. I can live with your other augmentations. I'll miss your skin & your warmth & your heartbeat, but I'll move on eventually if you get rid of them, but please, Viktor, don't get rid of your emotions!"

All as quiet tears slowly begin to trickle down her cheeks.

Viktor will have never seen her so distressed before in all the time they've known each other.

#arcane #league of legends #viktor #jayce talis #jayvik #viktor x fem!reader #jayce x fem!reader #jayvik x fem!reader #female reader #mental disorders #emotional blunting #dysthymia #anhedonia #apathy #lack of motivation #writing prompt

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doctorho · 2 years

Text

some skitches (waves on the shore fanart) for @wincestisasincest (also @rhynestonez i liked your version of penny so i stole her, sorry)

he is annoyed

(lost his pants, doesn’t have enough caffeine in him to deal with this)

the girls are fightingg

(they have been in the lab all night)

#viktor arcane #fanart #viktor x fem!reader #skitches

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mang0tang00 · 2 years

Text

Scenario: Your heater broke and decided to go to Viktor

Viktor x Nb! Reader

Word Count: 1.3K

Warnings: none

Note: this was suppose to be a long ass fic but i wrote it a while ago so im changing the title

Rapid knocking surprised Viktor. It was 2 in the morning who would be knocking at his door so early. To answer no one because Jayce sleeps so early and Sky shouldn’t know where he lived. He gets up tiredly from his desk and goes over to his door. He opens it and looks at who would be there and it was Y/n.

“Y/n?!”

They had been looking away from Viktor and had turned their head to look up at him.

“H-hey Vik…”

“What are you doing here??”

He looked at them more and saw they were shivering as well as being soaked. Had it been storming?

“M-my heater broke in the m-middle of the storm and thought I could come over but now that im thinking about it-it was a dumb idea”

“Yes incredibly dumb but if I were to send you back Jayce would murder me.”

He lets them inside. His apartment was fairly warm as he himself is a very cold person and can not keep body heat very well. He hears them sigh in relief with how warm his home is.

“Let me get you a towel”

He leaves to get them a towel and places it on the top of their head.

“I’ll also get you spare clothes, but first why would you walk to my place, we live very far apart?”

“Well I have only been here once before and didn’t realize truly how far it was till half way. You’re the only person I know who was awake at this time anyway. Hope I was not interrupting anything important”

“Not really I was just going over my notes.”

“Where is your bathroom?”

“Oh it’s inside my room, you can look through my things to find something comfortable to sleep in”

“Thanks Vik”

He watches you go to his room and he stands there dumbfounded. Out of all people he did not expect you to show up. You were Jayce’s ex but both of you ended on good terms so you were always at the lab. You would always help around and Jayce had made you get an assistant form since you were around so much. So technically you were also his coworker and not just his best friend’s ex. He had spaced out and walked to his bedroom momentarily forgetting you were there. He began to change and walked into the bathroom to see you shirtless. He yelps and covers his eyes, only to hear you laugh.

“Vik, I have the shirt on now. You can open your eyes”

He takes his hand away and looks at you with a light blush.

“Now that you’re here though, do you have a spare toothbrush?”

He nods and points to the bottom cabinets of the sink. He watches you get the toothbrush and then look up at him from the kneeling position.

“Nice bunny slippers”

“They are comfortable and keep my feet warm”

He huffs while you continue to tease him playfully. The both of you brush your teeth, then stand at the end of the bed.

“I’ll sleep on the couch” You both say simultaneously.

“I can’t take your bed Viktor, you already let me into your home and gave me clothes to use.”

“Well you are my guest so I insist you take it.”

“But wouldn’t it be better for your back if you laid in your very comfortable looking bed?”

“That’s why I got an equally comfy couch since my desk is by it.”

“Very smart but you should still lay in your own bed.”

You both end up just trying to convince the other to take the bed for 10 minutes until Viktor suggests you both just share the bed.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, my bedroom is the warmest and also keeps in the heat but if we share a space then more body heat/warmth for the both of us.”

“Alright then.”

It was a little awkward laying down. He had been very stiff while laying there and he knows that you noticed.

“I don’t bite Vik, you can scoot closer”

He was practically on the edge of the bed and scooted in a bit closer. He heard you huff in annoyance. Hearing the sheets ruffle and move he half expected you to turn away or maybe even move to the couch since he was being fairly awkward. Instead he feels your arms wrap around his waist and pull him much closer to yourself resulting in him becoming the little spoon. He’s glad all the lights are off as he was blushing. He goes to say something only to hear your soft breaths hit the back of his neck signally you were asleep. He tried moving their arms but it resulted in them holding him closer. He lays there thinking about his predicament. The whole situation did not hit him till now. If he was being honest with himself, he had a crush on them. He was trying to ignore his growing feelings for them but it had not worked. He had hoped that Y/n had not noticed. When he saw you coming around the lab more, he was more than happy. It took a while for the two of you to warm up to one another but after that awkward stage you and him were very good friends. All his thinking had made him drowsy and he had fallen asleep before he knew it.

The next morning Viktor had woken up before Y/n. He rubbed his eyes sleepily and yawned. He felt a weight on his chest and he looked down to see you laying on his chest. He had forgotten you were there, in bed, with him. He begins to mentally freak out as he attempts to gently lay you on the bed and escape from your arms. Except his attempts had woken you up instead. He watched you slowly wake up and look around then both your eyes locked. You gave him the warmest smile that had him melting.

“Morning Vik”

The sleepiness that had coated your voice had his heart beating faster than ever. How had he been so calm the night before?

“Morning”

He feels you get up off him and sit at the edge of the bed. Viktor was looking at you, the way his clothes had hung from your body. The way that both of your scents had mingled into one. You had always smelt of something sweet, like fresh honey from its nest. Or the smell of freshly baked bread. He was intoxicated off of your scent. He always wondered what you thought his scent was. He hadn’t realized he dozed off again until he felt you gently wake him up. Viktor groans in protest but eventually opens his eyes, only to meet with a plate of food. He didn’t even know he had all the ingredients for this to even be made.

“I’m heading back now so they can fix my heater as well as make sure there were no leaks. Thanks for letting me stay for the night Vik you’re the best”

He smiles as he watches you place his clothes to the side and leave. Now that he knows what it felt like to have you lying beside him, he wanted you to always be with him. He tasted the coffee half expecting it to taste bad but you made it just right? It was as if he made it himself…had you paid that much attention for small details? He swallows thickly…he does not know how much longer these feelings can stay down until they shoot out like bile from his stomach.

#viktor #viktor arcane #viktor league of legends #viktor x reader #viktor x y/n #viktor x you #arcane viktor #viktor x gn reader #viktor x fem!reader

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thehistoriangirl · 1 year

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The Oblivious Game I Want to Lose (Without Losing You) [Chapter Two]

> M A S T E R L I S T <

Viktor x [Hopeless Romantic!]Fem!Reader-----------2.8K--------SFW

Chapter summary: Viktor meets you for your first tutoring session. It does not go well—but he’s willing to make your new relationship work. Would you?

He wore your shawl tight around his neck, not because Viktor wanted to, but because the air was getting colder. His only company was the potted plants, and the hidden music box you tucked under a corner of the bench. Stiff fingers knotted the ends of the soft purple fabric tucked under the coat, near his heart—he could imagine all kinds of trouble for himself if he let the rest of the guests see it.

Viktor waited and waited, but you didn’t come back. It was late, the sound of conversation inside the hall becoming quieter, so he decided it was time to go. But before stood up from the bench, he looked at the hidden gift, thinking he was afraid someone would find your gift and take it away.

They would be very sad, he thought while pushing the gift further from its hideout, just in case.

However, Viktor consulted his watch and saw it was past midnight. And tomorrow he still had work to do, so he got up, groaning when his right knee cracked with his first steps away from the balcony.

While dodging the increasingly drunk crowd inside the hall, Viktor remembered about searching for Heimerdinger to, at least, let him know he was leaving—if the yordle wasn’t gone already.

But no, he was still there.

Professor Heimerdinger sat on a little couch near the musicians playing on a little stage toward the left corner of the room. Viktor approached, but his steps started to falter when he noticed the man lounging next to the Dean. He wore a navy-blue suit, decorations of silver shone along the clothing in form of wavy plates, over his shoulders and down its lapel.

His voice was the same—he was your father.

“Oh, perfect timing, Viktor! Here you are. We were just talking about you.” The yordle was smiling, hands interlaced over his lap.

Viktor tilted his head as a greeting. “Sir.”

Erik Ventos was around Viktor’s height, if not slightly taller. Age didn’t stop his rigid back to sit regal and ruthless, cold blue eyes looking back at him with a tedious expression.

Viktor almost wanted to hide further down your shawl, hoping the man couldn’t identify the scarf as one of his child’s.

“So you’re Viktor. Heimerdinger’s assistant.”

He bowed his head again. “Yes, Sir.” And then added, just for pure protocol, as it sounded like an incomplete sentence: “Is there something I can assist you with?”

“Mr. Ventos is looking for a tutor for his daughter. I thought that you would be fitting for the role, my boy.”

Viktor blinked. “Me?” But the start question was replaced by surprise. Do you need a tutor? Why would your father even consider Viktor a good contender?

"Professor Heimerdinger has told me about your natural inclination for the sciences. I believe you could be a good influence on my daughter.” Mr. Ventos gazed upon Viktor’s outfit—his Academy uniform. His eyes squinted slightly. “Especially considering your background.”

He felt that pull in the pit of his stomach, curving with anger. “My background?” Part of him didn’t wish to look like a broken automaton that could only repeat the last words in a sentence, but Viktor couldn’t bring himself to say anything else.

Maybe there was indeed a logical explanation for your sour relationship with him.

“I believe she will be fond of meeting someone else who also shares ties with the Undercity.” Viktor blinked. Did he hear it right? Probably not.

He couldn’t answer, looking for an acceptable answer that ultimately Viktor didn’t find. Though it was strange that a wealthy family heir didn't have a queue of tutors expecting the failure of the ones ahead of them.

Mr. Ventos arched his brows. “I have to warn you that she can be a little… troublesome. But I'm willing to compensate for a job well done.” Gesturing toward him, he finished. “So, do you accept?”

Viktor did, with a very paused nod of his head, but he accepted nevertheless. He needed the money to finance his projects—being an assistant allowed him to live comfortably enough, but he didn't have the resources to invest in his inventions.

He also had to return the shawl, after all. And a part of him, one he didn’t want to examine too much into it, was curious about the fame your father cast upon you. Looking back at your endearing relationship with him, it seemed more the result of a grudge Erik Ventos had against his child that a fundament truth.

Mr. Ventos reclined back in his seat; a complacent smile barely noticeable. Viktor knew he was used to people accepting his requests no matter what—a true businessman.

"I look forward to seeing your results, young man."

“I hope I won’t disappoint you, Sir.” Viktor excused himself after that.

But after walking away, he thought that, luckily, the yordle didn’t comment about if he could deliver the gift, perhaps because Professor Heimerdinger also knew that the music box was a delicate item to give—seeing how much Mr. Ventos wanted you away from the Music Faculty.

However, Viktor could still feel Mr. Ventos’ eyes glued to his back until he disappeared among the multitude. He regretted his decision as soon as Viktor got out of the building, with the cold air of the street lifting the leaves in swirling motion, relaxing his frantic thoughts.

Already too late to back off.

He shook his head, one hand inside his coat’s pocket as the other became increasingly cold from holding the cane.

Calm down. How bad could it go, anyway?

*~*~*~*

He was late.

Apparently, Viktor spent much time deciding what he was supposed to wear. Why? He had no idea, not really—the excuse of not wanting to give away a bad first impression was the most plausible, but not possible. You had already met, and you didn’t even comment about his clothes that one time.

Not that he wanted you to, but…

“Good afternoon, Mister”, one of the maids tilted her head while receiving him at the front door. “Sir Ventos isn’t home, but the Young Mistress is waiting for you in the study room.” Gesturing for him to enter, the servant guided him up a flight of stairs, toward one spotless white hallway with wooden doors flanked at each side.

For Viktor, all the doors were the same, but in the fifth one to the left, the maid stopped, he almost bumped into her. She got a key out of her apron and quickly turned it into the lock.

He frowned at the golden light pooling from inside the room toward the dimmed hallway.

“Please come in,” the maid said, smiling courteously. “The study plan is on the table.”

Viktor mumbled a “thank you”, but the woman was already walking down the way she came. He looked at the door that towered over him, touching the cold golden handle when he slowly walked inside, taking it to close the door behind his back.

The room was big, divided between what looked like an empty stage, with a piano covered with a black sheet, no stool in front of it; and a normal studio, the east wall covered in a shelf filled with books. A heavy desk made of dark oak matched its chair that was tilted toward the entrance as if it were expecting him. Another seat was in front of the desk, some books open with a couple of pens between their pages.

Windows covered the entirety of the north wall, all with translucent curtains waving with the soft breeze that filtered through the ajar glass.

His frown deepened because the room was empty.

Or so he thought. Viktor was about to call an annoyed “hello?” Because it wasn’t kind to just skip private tutoring and make him waste his time. But he was too far away, only taking a couple of steps away from the door, to see you.

The wind pulled the curtain away, unveiling your body behind it. You were sleeping on a couch mounted on the wall like an extended window sill, and Viktor thought that you looked like a cat bathing in the sun.

He felt bad walking toward you with each thump of his cane echoing in the quiet room because he had to wake you up. Besides, he didn’t have an idea how to do it gently.

Viktor mumbled something about how ridiculous this situation was—you must know about his arrival, why were you sleeping?!

He was a couple of inches away, taking care of not stepping over the thrown ledgers that were scattered on the floor. Wielding his cane, he took it almost by the lower end, using the handle to poke you awake. Several times, nudging your shoulder.

You cracked your eyes open, eyelids heavy to block your vision from the blinding sunlight.

“What do you want?” you groaned, clearly annoyed. Your hand grasped the cane’s handle and pushed it away. “Why are you poking me with a stick? That’s rude.”

Viktor settled the cane aside, arching an eyebrow. “I would appreciate it if you don't call my cane a 'stick', Miss Ventos. It is rude, too, I have to say.” You incorporated your elbows, slowly connecting the voice to the person casting a shadow in front of you. "I’m here to tutor you if your nap can be interrupted, that is.”

You looked at him between your lashes. “You’re… that guy—Viktor.”

“That guy—”, he repeated, only half-baffled. “And here I was thinking I made a decent impression.” In reality, Viktor was surprised someone would remember him. It didn’t happen usually.

You rolled to the end of the couch, your heels touching the floor as you sat, vision still plagued with black dots, mind hazy, still sleepy.

“It’s a good thing" you interrupted, feeling your cheeks hot from the sunlight. "Did you say— you’re my new tutor?”

Viktor walked toward the desk. “Well, yes. I was wondering why it was such a hard job but… eh, I may comprehend now.”

“Hey!” You objected, but he wasn’t paying attention. Viktor took the study plan, discovering many of the subjects were about accounting and engineering. Well-versed in both, but not particularly inclined about accounting—he had enough with Heimerdinger's ledges on his day-to-day.

It was very clear your father wanted to make you a useful heiress as soon as possible; with all the lessons about commerce, economy, and aeronautical engineering.

You sat, yawning.

“Well, shall we start, Miss?” Viktor said, putting out his bag some books he’d borrowed from the library.

You shrugged. “I guess we should.”

But it was rather challenging. Your father wasn’t exaggerating your bad qualities—he was right. A little.

Your attention span was the shortest one he’d had the luck of knowing to this day. He was explaining something, and suddenly, from the corner of his vision, you’d dipped your head toward the desk, using a pencil to doodle little flowers over the margins of your otherwise empty notes. Viktor would clear his throat, and you would look at him again, humming as if he'd be fooled by it.

In some other moments, you would be swinging your legs under the desk, kicking Viktor’s cane a couple of times, and touching Viktor’s legs awkwardly before you settled with playing with the pens displayed over the desk.

“Did you understand?” Viktor said, and you mumbled a non-convincing, “uh-huh.”

His frustration threshold was getting out of hand when he added:

“Explain it back to me, then.”

He saw your face filled with horror. “Uh, I’m not good at explaining things—”

“Miss Ventos, you’re a terrible liar.” You were passing your finger over one page filled with equations, shoulders hunched forward. “Have you even paid attention to what I’ve been saying for the last twenty minutes?”

You were fidgeting with a pen, until Viktor put one hand over yours, sliding away the little object for you to focus—once again. “Answer me.”

Your lips stayed in a thin line. Viktor directed his piercing gaze toward you.

Finally, you gave up, lowering your head even more. “I’m sorry. I think you should stop wasting your time on me and leave.”

That was unexpected.

Viktor blinked, hands frozen mid-gesture. “Do you want me to leave, then?”

A pause. He was about to sigh, propelling himself out of the seat, but you shook your head almost imperceptibly. And then, just to make him sit again, you mumbled: "… No.”

“Then why aren’t you putting more… effort into this?" Viktor leaned over his elbows, one of his hands resting against his chin. “Hmm?”

“I… I just don’t want to do this.”

“Do I bore you, Miss Ventos?”

You swallowed, fingers interlaced over your lap, where Viktor couldn’t see them.

“You… you were talking about the importance that the materials from which the airships are built,” you said, pressing your lips together. “Because of the pressure it has to withhold in different altitudes and depending on the airship’s velocity. But… I didn’t understand the equations you explained right after. Are you happy now?”

You sounded… tired. Viktor locked eyes with you, and he noticed the dark bags under them.

“You think I’m doing this solely for annoying you?” he said. “That’s what you think all your past tutors were trying to do?”

Your eyes widened. “What?”

“I thought it was strange no tutors are battling over being the tutor of the Ventos’ heiress. Perhaps I know now why.”

You frowned, lips curved in a mocking smile. “Why? You also think I’m an ungrateful brat?” you scoffed, dragging the chair away from the desk as you stood up. “Perhaps you shouldn’t be here if that’s the case.”

Viktor’s brows knitted in annoyance. “You can turn people’s words like that.” He pointed to the study plan, thumping his finger against the wooden desk. “It’s clear you aren’t making an effort, and I think—” he cut off, understanding this wasn’t the correct way of solving this problem.

You raised your eyebrows, urging him to continue. But Viktor didn’t, he only sighed, rubbing his temples. “I think you should go. The lesson’s over.”

Without another word, you walked away, closing a lateral door toward the west side of the studio. Until then, Viktor had forgotten to give you back your shawl, but as he was putting his stuff inside the bag, he saw it, pushing the fabric to the bottom of his bag, and covering it with the books, hurriedly taking the papers scattered over the desk, not checking if they were his or not.

However, when he was putting the papers into one neat pile to slide it inside the bag, Viktor saw one equation halfway answered. It had scribbled all along the page, stained with charcoal dragged away by the eraser too many times. He checked it, and it was correct until that point, just… unfinished.

You also doodled him on a little margin that was folded, supposed to be away from his prying view.

Viktor sighed again, moving away from the seat.

He was supposed to leave the room, but the shelf covering the entirety of the wall stopped him. It was covered in ledgers that tried to cover taller picture frames Viktor could see well enough, peeking over the books. So he took the ledgers away, revealing the images below: you as a little kid with your mom in the Opera House. You wearing your mother’s old costumes in front of a mirror, smiling happily. There were others, of you playing the piano, or the cello.

Among them, Viktor saw shiny little trophies and badges of musical competitions, all of them with your name engraved.

I just don’t want to do this, he remembered, adding the last piece to his mental calculation about how, and why he got entangled in this predicament in the first place. He could have easily said no.

But he didn’t. And he still didn’t have a convincing answer as to why he accepted the job in the first place. For money? How absurd. He’d been rejecting similar jobs ever since he entered the Academy.

Then why?

Viktor didn’t move, eyes wandering between the door you disappeared into, and the door that brought him inside. His heartbeat echoed inside his head, the room getting unbearably warm.

Calm down. How bad could it go, anyway?

He was wrong the first time. Perhaps it wouldn’t be the second?

The side door at the west wall of the studio was white, perfectly hidden between the wallpaper, and the frames made of gold enhanced the molded details of clouds, birds, and stars over the superior part of the walls.

Made of solid wood, the sound coming out from it sounded muffled when he knocked on the surface, fingers hovering in the little golden handle that peeked symmetrically as part of one of those golden frames.

Nobody answered, silence feeling ominous and heavy. Viktor broke it calling your name.

From the other side of the room, he heard steps that grew in intensity until they stopped in front of the door.

Then, the handle moved downwards, and you peeked from the ajar door. “Yes?”

You have your eyes red as if you had rubbed them with too much force.

“I think we should talk.”

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ficfanatictrf · 1 year

Text

The Night Stand (Part 9)

Summary: With the two finally able to relax, a few misconceptions are finally addressed.

Word Count : 3k

Edited and Proofread by nobody A/N : Because everyone literally was so kind and wondering and just filled me with such soft kindness, I kinda ended up being able to write this fairly quickly because I just got excited about writing a super sappy Viktor. I hope you like it.

---- ---- ---- ----

Guiding you by the arm, Viktor was careful to go at a speed that was comfortable for you. With the few days in bed after pregnancy complications, it wasn’t hard to see that you would be tired from everything your body was struggling through.

At times, he ended up needing to convince you to sit, under the little white lie that his own leg was acting up. If there was one thing he knew about you, it was that if he asked if you needed to rest - you would push on without a care to your own health. However, if he framed it like you would be helping him by taking a break? You would be ready to stop at a moment's notice.

As soon as you made your way through the apartment door, you found it completely different than the last time you had been there. Granted, that was months ago now, and the situation wasn’t that good as you were being kicked out.

However, you were sure that there had not been all of the items that you were now seeing.

Covering nearly every inch of the space were books and toys and half finished inventions. Just from eyeing a couple of the books, they were all parenting books, pregnancy health books, recipe books for babies and even a few baby books that you had never seen before and were in a language you had seen Viktor doodle in a little.

Then there were the toys, every single one of them either looking like he had hand made them or they were from his own childhood. And as you slowly walked through the room, looking at the inventions that were incomplete, it wasn’t hard to tell that they were little things to make a single parent’s life easier.

He had been using every waking second it seemed to learn as much as he could. Glancing over at him, you saw that he had rushed off to the kitchen to get you a glass of water - already remembering the countless times he had pushed you to up your intake of water after the news of your pregnancy was out.

It was clear just how happy and excited he was about this child.

A deep pang of sadness hit as you looked around the room.

You hadn’t done this much work…

It made you feel so inadequate. For you, everything had felt like too much, you had hardly been able to think about the next couple of days into the future, much less months. Yet, it was clear that Viktor had thought so far ahead as to have items for when the child was born, when the child was playing, learning.

And as much as you wanted to enjoy the fact that Viktor was being kind to you, as he ushered you to sit down while placing the glass of water in your hand - for the baby.

Of course.

This was all for the baby.

But, your child deserved a father that loved it. You just wanted your child to be happy, to be loved. Two parents were better than one, especially two parents that adored their child. It just meant that the hopes she had of a wedding, of falling in love, of a marriage she had dreamed of…that would all need to be buried and forgotten.

Sitting on the couch, you watched as he raced around the room to try and clean it up. All the while, you couldn’t help but remember how he had kicked you out that morning. He might have been affectionate recently, but that still didn’t change the fact that when you weren’t pregnant he wasn’t interested.

There was a shift in your stomach, a low thump of pain, a pain you knew all too well. With a soft smile, you knew exactly what it was.

“Viktor, come here”

Not needing to be asked twice, the man dropped what he was doing - literally dropping the books in his hands to rush to your side.

Gently coaxing him to sit down, you took his hands into your own before placing them on top of your stomach.

At first, confusion was written on his face as well as a little bit of worry.

That was till you saw the shock and then utter joy as he felt the little thing kick. All previous worry washed away as you saw the look you wished that you yourself could give to him.

You were still in love with him, that much was easy to know…so to see him this happy? Seeing him light up brighter than he ever had before, you supposed this could be enough.

---- ---- ---- ----

From then on, you remained at Viktor’s home. Things could not be described as anything other than perfect - well, besides the ever present nagging in the back of your mind with him being so in love with this child. Would he push you out?

It made the most sense, with him knowing everything about the conditions the child had - the diet that he started to prepare for you helping a great deal with some of the symptoms. As well as all the knowledge he had memorized on childcare and pregnancy. There were so many times he would gently remind me of the foods you ‘weren’t allowed to eat’ or the fact that you were picking something up that was outside of the allowable weight limit.

And as much as you tried to take it with a smile, to tell yourself to just enjoy the soft kisses and affectionate nicknames. You were starting to feel like you were going crazy with worry.

When he kissed you, it was only your cheek, forehead, hands or stomach. Or like how he started to refer to you more often as the mother of his child, the tone clear that he meant it with affection, but still referred to the child.

Having already felt like you were doing poorly as an inventor before leaving, now feeling like you couldn’t even do motherhood right - you just weren’t sure what you were meant to do.

---- ---- ---- ----

Viktor felt like he was living on cloud nine. He had the woman of his dreams living with him, he woke up everyday to her sleeping beside him - sometimes finding himself entranced by just how beautiful she was in the morning light.

He had made it his mission to give her everything she could want. He would prove that he was a worthy husband, to prove that he would make a good partner for the raising of this child. Before, he made mistake after mistake when it came to how to handle things - but this time he was going to pamper her and shower her with as much help and affection as he could.

Waking up once more to find her warmth enveloping him, the man found it easier to slip free - but only because he was only leaving so that he could make her breakfast. Referencing the multiple pregnancy books and recipe books he had a go-to list of recipes for every meal on what she should be eating, he made sure that she would be getting all the nutrients that she would need.

If there was something he was clearly trash at, it was art- yet, he still tried his best to make the plate always look like the picture. He swore he spent nearly half the time trying to plate it as opposed to cooking it. It always just looked like he threw it together.

Returning to your side, he wasn’t surprised to see you blinking awake as he came in, it was just how the two of you had begun to function together.

“Goodmorning, did you sleep alright?”

It was so cute to watch as you sat up, emotionlessly nodding as he knew you were still not fully awake. You never were for at least the first thirty minutes of the day.

Completely on autopilot, you took the plate from him, slowly munching the food that was presented to you. He had learned that if he gave you a lot of the things you didn’t like early in the day, you would just eat it - leaving lunch and dinner to be times that you got to enjoy foods that you liked more.

Finishing his own rather quickly, he laid back down with his head on your lap and hand on your belly.

Gods, he hoped you would pick him when he asked. That you would accept when he proposed, whenever he got up the nerve. He knew that you had gone through a lot and were still likely going through a lot when it came to how the pregnancy made you feel, so he was giving you all the space in the world. However, that didn’t mean that he didn’t look forward to the idea that someday he could take you on dates.

The idea of the two of you going out on a little boat for the day, just to talk and read. Or to go to your favorite museum, asking you to describe the art exhibits that he knew nothing about or the history pieces about Piltover just to hear you light up about the different events in the past.

“My miracle baby” He whispered, pressing a soft kiss to your stomach.

This truly was a miracle baby. It was to bring together everything he had ever wanted and hoped for, thinking that it was all impossible. He was about to have a child with the one he was in love with? A child he had assumed growing up he would never be able to have because nobody would want him, no woman would ever choose him. And even if he ever did find someone who did, what if he wasn’t able to impregnate her? With all of the health issues he had grown up with, it wouldn’t be unreasonable to think that he was…infertile.

Then after he reacted so horribly to everything, thinking he ruined absolutely everything with the love of his life? This child came into the picture to give him a second chance at winning her heart. He just needed to prove that he was a good option, that her choosing to stay with him would be in her best interest.

He had always needed to do that, to prove that he had something the other could use.

A frown slowly bloomed, his own nervousness starting to grow as he looked at where he assumed the child was.

Hopefully this child would love him. He had never experienced much of the way of familial love. That unconditional love and care, the love you have in a family. Where he wouldn’t have to earn someone’s affection, wouldn’t feel the need to bend over backwards for someone to choose him.

“Viktor….can I…um- can we talk, finally?”

Snapping him out of his own thoughts, the man was quick to sit up to give you his full attention. Hands reaching out to remove your now empty plate and set it aside for you.

“Of course. What would you like to start with?”

Silence stretched out between the two of you for a long while, like you were scared of how he would react to the question in the front of your mind.

And like he had been trying to do for the past couple days, he decided to go first to ease some of your anxiety.

“How about I start? Hmm?” After receiving a soft nod, a nervous chuckle was released before he started from where he knew he needed some clarification at.

“When you said the other night about how you had wanted to sleep with me, that you had gotten intoxicated with the intention of trying to sleep with me. Does that mean….do you have feelings, affectionate feelings, for me?”

He felt childish as he did it, but he found himself panicking - his eyes squeezing shut as he waited for you to deny his hope. However, as he waited for you to speak, he had not expected to suddenly find his senses completely overtaken with you.

With his cheeks cradled in your hands, the touch soft and gently, to your lips on his that were soft and - damn it - so sweet. He didn’t even care that you hadn’t really answered the question as he instantly allowed himself to be used however you wished.

“Yes”

The answer came, breathless and soft, the perfect kiss being ended by the simplest and most beautiful answer to his ears.

“Y-yes? You…you care for me?”

He watched a smile grow on your own cheeks, giggles bubbling up from within.

“Yes. I care for you. Viktor, I have been in love with you since the day you held me when I cried in your arms at that gala”

Time seemed to stand still, his mind racing to calculate just how much time that had been ago as well as the very fact that it was the same event that had started his attraction to you.

“...t-that…that is the same for me…”

As you both stared at each other, it seemed that the two of you slowly started to see the events from the other perspective.

With Viktor’s knowledge of you, it made sense how you had wanted to give him space - seeing as you had always been able to read him so well. Putting him on the spot never worked, so you always would allow him to go at his pace. Which is why he had assumed you hadn’t cared.

And then you, finally aware of Viktor’s past, his desire to give a child the best option as well as his incorrect thinking that you were so far out of his league. It made sense why he had always kept you at arm's length. Like he was trying to keep a distance between you too so that he wouldn’t ‘fall for someone he couldn’t have’.

“....if I wasn’t pregnant….would you still love me?”

It was the only question you still needed answered, the one that you were scared to death of him breaking your heart over.

Yet, instead of shock or anger - you only saw a sad understanding as he moved closer, taking your hands into his own.

“My dear, I loved you before we ever spent a night together. Yes, I would still love you. I may have never pursued you, may have never allowed myself to admit it. But it would have been true, I would have loved you regardless.”

Kissing the tears that were soon dotting your cheeks, you soon found yourself clinging to him.

“W-why do you keep thinking you are less than me…Viktor, you are far better than anything I could ever be. A better parent, a better inventor, a better cook…you know so much more about pregnancy and you aren’t even pregnant!”

To say he was confused would have been an understatement, the man having thought what he was doing was to be expected. Wasn’t that his job as a potential husband? To provide and protect? Wasn’t this expected from someone who ‘provided’?

“..I was…I simply was trying to prove that I could be an adequate father. Is it too much? Am I not doing something I am supposed to be doing?”

Still in tears, you couldn’t help but laugh, moving even closer. With your hands cradling his face, with all the care in the world, you couldn’t help but laugh at his assumption.

“Viktor. To me you are perfect, beyond perfect. Even with how much of a work-a-holic you are, how rude you can be at times, how single minded you can be on some topics..”

You could see the hint of an amused sort of glare, the same he would always direct at Jayce when they were teasing each other.

“Even at your worst, you are still the best I’ve ever encountered. Viktor, for me it has always been you. I don’t care where you are from, I don’t care about the fact you don’t have a name. None of those things matter to me.”

It was his turn to cry, only a handful slipping free before he was looking away to try and calm his heart.

“Y-you are only saying that because…because of the baby..” He whispered, though you could see from the growing blush on his face that he didn’t even believe that himself.

“Yeah, sure, the baby can somehow send signals to my brain telling me that I must love you.”

As his face only steadily grew darker, you knew that despite his words - what you said was heard and understood.

With the two of you sitting in silence, it was only broken by the kicking once more - the two of you whispering soft words of love and adoration to the child inside.

“Do you think it will be a boy or a girl?” You found yourself asking, Viktor taking the question far too seriously as he sat up to contemplate the answer. After a few minutes you couldn’t help but groan and push him, trying to break him out of his train of thought.

“I was just thinking about names for the baby. I wasn’t really asking which you wanted. Goodness. Single minded for sure”

“Rio”

Blinking, you stopped your half hearted pushing to take in what he said. The name would work for both a boy or a girl, allowing it to be a perfect name for whatever they were to have. And from the very few conversations about his past - you knew a little about how important the name was to him.

“Alright, Rio. Our little baby Rio”

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