#But Viktor? Never had a chance

[duncanor]

Those tags are really funny don't get me wrong but this isnt what I meant ^^ and I think that people putting all the blame on Jayce are really missing the point actually!

What makes theirs narratives so heartbreaking to me is that it wasn't 'fumbling', it was no incident. No matter what they could have done, they were doomed. Since Jayce was saved by that mage, since Viktor was born in Zaun.

What if they'd given up on Hextech? What would've become of them? Well, for Jayce, he would've jumped. And for Viktor..pilltover disdain for Zaunites would've claimed another victim sooner than later.

So yeah, this dream of theirs saved their lives. But as Heimerdinger said, magic tend to turn dreams into nightmares. And it did turn into just that. And there's nothing that they could've done to stop it without sacrificing themselves...but in doing so.. They also sacrificed everyone else.

That's what I meant by 'the real tragedy was that nothing worked'. Because it couldn't have. They were never going to be saved.

It was fate but they couldn't accept it because they loved their dream, they loved the people and they loved each others. And yet, this is what their blind, dream-like, love brought. Death, destruction, hatred and

...betrayal.

I know people are focused on Jayce right now but I do believe Viktor own quote about love making us do the most evil things also applies to himself (even if he didn't get it at the time).

His miracles had a price and not just 'his' magic. Jayce seeing them as arcane husks, Viktor being able to see/speak through them, their lives bein' so intertwined that if Viktor dies they all do, like puppet whose strings were cut...

The real tragedy of Jayce killing Viktor is that Viktor genuinely thought he was realizing their dream, that he was finally helping his people but then he got betrayed by the one who made that dream possible in the first place. And Jayce.. He tried to stop this nightmare from developing further, corrupting whatever was left of his partner.

The real tragedy is that nothing worked.

[ineed-to-sleep]

Jackie died. Jackie died and I'm devastated. I will never be the same person again

[greatloss]

@7iktor. . . 𝚅𝙸𝙺𝚃𝙾𝚁 𝙷𝙰𝚁𝙶𝚁𝙴𝙴𝚅𝙴𝚂.

❛ i wish i knew how to talk about it. ❜

the silence breaks as only the seventh could break it : short and sweet. he almost expected more, after so long, as if time had swallowed up the familiar cadence of this brother beside him already ; more volume, more noise, but the bar is quiet this time of day, daylight drifting dots past the windows that don't quite reach viktor. or maybe it's exactly what he expected, just less. . . solid. now, still, sure ; viktor used to inhabit an almost dear in headlights - like stocism that was likely medically induced in hindsight, but brittle. like a breeze would just blow him away.

but there viktor sits, body planted heavy in the booth, eyes unflinching, unthreatening. unthreatened. still viktor, just. . . more viktor. “ there aren't words for some things, ” he answers, careful, gaze subtle and searching. a wince, maybe. five may have helped kick them all to the space - time continuum curb more - so than the others, but every one of them left of their own accord. old habits. five doesn't know much, but he knows viktor wasn't exactly keen on visits, at least one - way. although, five wasn't so keen as to pay viktor a visit himself until now, was he ? “ i'm sorry i haven't really given you the opportunity to until now. ” words were more viktor's forte. you could fill a book with words five couldn't say. i know you were about to accidentally end the world, but i'm really sorry about that time i threatened to kill you and also ruined your life ? and that other time i threatened to kill you and ruined your life— what was it, three times ? riveting.

[brazenbishop]

I think what I love/hate most about the Arcane ending is that everyone got what they needed but not what they wanted.

Jinx needed to end the cycle, she’s been wishing someone could finish the job the whole series, she just didn’t want to go out a hero.

Echo needed to be a savior to help his people, he just thought it would be as a leader and not as a soldier.

Mel needed to prove herself as a Medarda, she just never wanted the acarne skills or the cost of her mother.

Jayce and Viktor in beautiful turn needed to be seen and understood. They found their own truths and destiny in each other, yet it destroyed them.

Vi needed family. She wanted the family she had back, instead she’s given closure for her loses and the chance to build a new one with a person she loves.

Caitlyn needed respect. She got it, but she now understands just how much it costs and just how heavy that crown is.

All of their endings satisfy exactly what they’ve wanted this whole show, just in a way none of them wanted.

[aaksuitac]

[04:24 am] “what are we?”

wc: 2.3k

a/n: [fluff viktor brainrot thanks to @dilemmars. t dije q me vengaría baby, así q zas, un payback por tus podcasts jdjfjjsd. hope u like cause its ur fault]

he’s humming something you don’t quite understand, a distant tune that sounds familiar —probably you’ve heard him sing it before—, and even if you don’t recognize the melody aside from that, you can’t help but appreciate it.

his hands fidget with whatever he can reach as he sighs once more, as if he was stealing breaths from the world, heavy, almost as lidded as his eyelids. his hair falls on his eyes and in between his slender fingers while he curls the untamed strands, and you fall into an endless pit of staring at him as he scribbles, grunts, sighs, and finally pinches the bridge of his nose.

“statistically speaking, i’m starting to feel like the chances of me getting this right are adversatively proportional to the chances of you accidentally swallowing a fly.”

and you just blink, once, then twice.

he stares at you, gives you a pointed look. he can’t really say if you understood that you were just staring at him with your mouth parted, but you squint at him, snickering.

“what,” his low voice fails to ask, unbothered, knowing that you’ll answer regardless.

and you do, answering. “you haven’t even uttered a word in a while. i was just surprised that you could still talk, is all,” you grin cheekily, playing with a screw on the table as you turn left and right on the chair you’re sitting on.

viktor looks at you, and he can’t help but crack a smile. point for you.

“what you laughing for, mhh, mister science?”

“isn’t it enough to bother me from the moment i get inside the lab in the morning that you need to do it at night too?” he pretends seriousness, side-eyeing you teasingly.

“fair enough. i will consider your offer, man of fleeting memory, and take it upon myself to bother you longer.”

his mean stare wouldn’t even make a kitten mewl, but you take you hand to your heart, pretending to be wounded.

“don’t look at me like that! you’ll hurt my feewings,” you pouted, much to his amusement.

“fleeting memory?” he scoffs, accent rolling off his tongue. “when’s the last time you lost a hairtie, mmh?” he mocks.

“unfair!” you can’t help but giggle as you pretend to hide your hair from his view. point for him. “besides. i take better care of my hair than you do of yours.” you pouted smuggly. “mine looks prettier.”

“what?” he finally asks, letting out a chuckle this time as his eyes land on you for the first time in the good part of an hour.

you play with your hair to style it, and funnily pose, hands on your cheeks as you lay your elbows on the table.

“what, don’t I look pretty?” you smiled, letting out a cheeky giggle.

yes. he doesn’t say it, but his eyes haven’t dodged back to his papers just yet. it’s another point for you. so very pretty.

he doesn’t dare. he knows it. his mind, or at least the small portion of his mind that still ties him with the occasional reminder that he’s human, looks at you and wants you in a way that he’s never wanted before.

so viktor resolves in looking at you. maybe only for a moment, maybe only on those fragments of time when he’s tired enough that he looks at the stars and at the moon, yearning to reach them, only to think he’ll miss the moonlight, finally blinking to the realization that he had been staring into your eyes for too long.

his eyes are dull as he stares at you, and your expression of worry at the fact makes his heart skip a beat. “viktor?” you mumble, softly, sleepily, warily. he can’t stop staring at you, and while he supposes success and defeat can look the same in a mirror —therefore, he doesn’t really blame your confusion—, he finds no words to explain which one he’s feeling as you move your chair towards him by a push against the floor, solely accompanied by the sound of the little wheels rolling to him.

he grabs his walking stick and turns it around, pretending to poke at your chair, as if to teasingly shove it away. if you realize that he settles the walking stick just in the correct place so that your stool can’t move back, he doesn’t know. viktor just stares at the floor, to pretend that maybe the way your eyes turn tender when his reflection shines on them has nothing to do with what you’re about to say.

tsk, tsk. clueless viktor.

he’s expecting it, yes, but even with that on mind, he can’t phathom how your course of action chooses laughing as you fidget with the loose button on his vest, the second one from the top down. viktor purposely forces himself to stable his breathing, worry seeping into him, thinking that maybe you could feel his heartbeat grow faster beneath the layers of clothing.

and he feels like the remnants of a cheap ring that stain a finger blue, when comparing himself as he stands —sits— close and next to you. maybe its because you usually wear rings, and he can feel the ghost of them as your hand trails up and absentmindedly fixes his collar.

he can almost see it. your mind working, the pieces falling into place, the—

“either my eyes are deceiving me or yours have been on my lips for a rather long time.”

and he can just. blink. as if that could break how mesmerized he feels, how his heart swells up and covers his throat, how inexplicably he feels when you’re with him, near and alone. the need to know more. the need to use every trinket and screw to map out your body for him to explore, and to map out the wonders of your mind for the world to admire and maybe then find out the reason of his inability to look away.

he was so focused before. used to be.

he is. now, at you. of you. on you.

you.

another point for you. he isn’t keeping count, but something tells him he’s losing.

and as his gaze falls back to your lips in between a battle against your eyes, lost in which to stare and sink into their devotion, he hesitates again.

he thinks its funny. so funny, viktor holds back the dry chuckle that threatens to go past his lips. how to cherish you in a way that matters. how to love, the scientist wonders. is there a way that would allow him to unveil and unravel himself to you? could there be some kind of language, able to express the depth of his insides, that you, too, could understand?

what is love, anyways? is he in love with you because his coffee tastes better when it matches the dark of your pupils? because when he takes the mug from your hand and his fingers brush against yours, it seems warmer? because he notices how the dark shade in your eyes seems to mix with that of your irises, and the way the black eats the colour when you stare at him? because he claims to hate company while he studies alone, but one chair remains empty as he works, waiting for who it was meant for? because when he fails and surrenders himself to the fall, throws his walking stick against the wall, he yearns for your embrace and how your hair smells in the evenings?

is that love? and if it is, could you understand it?

if it is love, and he could say it, would such a short word convey its meaning, or was he speculating just a couple of paragraphs ago? was he assuming the meaning of what love entails?

even so. if he said it, would you repeat it? would you claim you love him because he loves you, claim to love him too? would you instead claim to love him despite everything, even the uncertainty of love itself?

…does he accept it himself?

he’s overwhelmed by the sheer amount of voices in his head. there’s too much chatter. too many questions he can’t answer, too many commas, too many question marks. too much, too much, too many.

so he silences them. makes the voices dim to a deep silence. and when his lips find themselves suddenly against yours, he finds out the true, effervescent meaning of quietness.

his hand fails to pull you closer because of the damn walking stick that gets in the way. or maybe its the chairs you’re both on that clash against each other. maybe its matter itself. for a while, its the first time viktor doesn’t want to know.

in a bold statement, he couldn’t give a fuck.

he’s kissing you.

and it should be bad because of all the unanswered questions. he’s skipping procedure. he’s gone from the fuck around to finding out and he doesn’t know where he is at this point.

what he does know, is that your hand pulls him by his necktie, and he’s gone. science? yours only. the science that he’d study all of the nights he may have left. the science behind what makes you. the science behind how your hand craddles his face while stroking his cheekbones. the science behind how you’re the closest you’ve ever been to him and somehow still not close enough. the science behind the reason why when you pull away makes his heart beat so loudly, as if it had forgotten how to a second ago.

your forehead rests against his. he shouldn’t have done that. he just… did it. maybe that was bad. was it? could it be? he had been waiting for so long too. he never thought he would…

“viktor, what are we?”

and he’s dead. he knows what the question implies, but he doesn’t want to answer. he could follow you like a lost puppy through piltover and zaun and hell knows where else. if he wasn’t dead now he would die right there and now without a second thought, because the feeling that overcame him was that love was suddenly a sentence or two away.

he knows he doesn’t dare. it’s one of the only thing he knows, one of the things he’s sure of.

but somehow, he moves. he stands up, takes the walking stick, and attempts to walk out the feeling that bounces inside him.

the walking stick always makes a noise when he walks, one with dificulties to interpret in terms of onomatopeia. not quite a thud, not deep enough to reach that quality. not a clack, for it is not entirely made of metal. still, as if it was a mix of both, he keeps walking.

viktor is nervous. thud-clack. he’s not moving far from his chair, nor is he going somewhere else. thud-clack. he still keeps pacing. thud-clack. maybe the answer is somewhere in the room. thud-clack. maybe he can reply.

thud-clack, thud-clack, thud-clack.

only does he then realize that he hasn’t answered your question. and a non-answer statement might as well be a rejection.

no. no, no, no. fuck.

he’s sitting again, but you stand up. your hair follows, long. moving and brushing against the skin of your shoulders in a way that he can’t help but claim it to be endearing.

you’re walking. you don’t make any kind of extra sound when you walk. your heels reverberate against the floor like any other, yet also they mark the beat of his heart.

he can’t reach for you. you walk too fast.

you stop when you feel the walking stick on your side. the part made for him to lean on as he walks hooks you, and you stand, not facing him.

he doesn’t use the walking stick as he stands. no, he keeps it hooked to your core, scared that you might leave. you could, he wouldn’t blame you. but he can’t allow it.

he holds it in the air as he takes one step. another step. you’re turning, surprised to see him standing, and you gasp when he lets himself fall on you.

your touch surrounds him. yes. that’s the closeness he needed. he drops the walking stick, his hands slithering on your body, pressing you against him, for no reason at all yet because it is all needs.

“what can we be?” he whispers. he takes the science approach. the viktor approach.

he isn’t too clueless after all.

he raises enough to look at your darkened, sleepy eyes. he wants to drown in them.

“if i wanted to kiss you everytime you hand me coffee, wanted you to sit on the same chair as ne and hug me from behind as I work, wanted you.” he swallows dry. “then, what can we be?”

he doesn’t want to say the words, and its petty.

it’s the 31st when the clock strickes five am and your hands travel through his hair to kiss him again. to unbalance him enough that he falls back on his chair and you follow him, sitting on his lap.

and as he kisses you, his hands worshipping the skin he can touch, the warmth he can feel through layers of clothing, he feels like maybe there’s a life worth living, so he can’t ask.

he’s heard boys and girls when he was young talk about it. “he didn’t want to celebrate our month-versary,” a girl cried as he played with his little boat, watching from afar as she was comforted by her friend.

it’s the 31st. and he can’t really ask the question now, because if he says it, how could you celebrate each month?

he moves the chair and holds you in his arms as your back falls against the table before him. maybe he can kiss you until next month. until the clock strikes and it’s the 1st.

he smiles as he kisses you, feeling you pull his necktie off. he thinks it’s the best idea he’s had in a while. and a true scientist always tries out their hypothesis.

~k.k. (☆) have fun!

aaksuitac, november 2024 ©

[theconstantsidekick]

klaus got sober, finally got sober but was made a germaphobe. he was ridiculed for finally having his shit together but having weird coping mechanisms for it. then he was made to spiral again and then killed off. he got his life on track, was an exceptional uncle/second parent to his niece and then they made him sell his body for drugs and inevitably killed him off as a junkie.

luther, who was the leader, who was smart enough to be an astronaut could amount to nothing without his powers except from being a stripper. he had absolutely nothing and no one, even sloan was ripped away from him and then he, too was killed off. lonely and unaccomplished.

ben was brought back, finally alive, granted not the same ben but he wore the same face and he had a family who could annoy him into shape but he stayed a dick, became a apocalyptic monster and credited for the destruction of all the branching timelines, and died as a monster that he was so afraid of becoming.

alison got her happy life but couldn’t sustain it. her husband left her but at least she got to have claire and for that i can give credit but she remained codependent on klaus to be her passion project that made her feel better. she never learnt why that was not healthy and then died without her daughter.

diego had this beautiful life, a family that called him their own, three kids and wife who called him darling, and love and then he was made to fuck it all up because of some obsession with the CIA, in service of a romance between his wife and brother because the creator thought an old man needed some romance. he wasn’t even shown saying goodbye to his kids.

lila left behind her assassin ways, she stopped being batshit crazy and ultra suspicious to settle down with a man she genuinely and wholeheartedly loved and trusted, only to throw it all away because his younger (and yet much older) brother found her a timeline with strawberries. she was made to give up her kids, her family, her happy fucking life when all she ever wanted was to not be alone.

viktor got dealt the worst hand, always. he was abused vehemently by his father and ignored and relegated due to no fault of his own. he was made to feel ugly and broken and small but then he realised that his family loved him even if his father didn’t. he got a chance at being normal and he took it, only for it to be stripped away from him so that he could sacrifice his life for a world that was never kind to him. he was made to reconcile with his abusive father and then promptly erased out of existence.

five. my dearest boy, young man, old fool, five. he survived an apocalypse after another. fought tooth and nail to keep his family alive and well and dedicated his entire life to make sure of it. only for all his efforts to be made futile and his snark to be mellowed. he made it his life mission to keep the world safe and his family safe only for all that to be stripped away from his character and made into a lovesick fool who abandoned them during the final battle to mope about his brother’s wife not liking him back.

there were so many character assassinations this season, GoT writers would be proud of dear old steve.

[katz-rambles]

Hi ! Could we have a childhood friends to lovers ViktorxReader please ? 🥰 I am CRAVING for new works

Yess!! I love this trope it's sooo cute!!

2k words, so I hope you enjoy, Anon!

(fluff, gn!reader, reader is a professor, making out, getting caught, Viktors a bit of a tease (when is he never though), I think this is it!)

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

When your family left the under-city, you knew everything would change. You were glad that it happened, it opened a whole bunch of doors for what you could become when you grew into an adult. But it also meant leaving your old life behind, one of the things you still think about to this day. Your heart aches when you think about the people you knew, you just hope that they ended up in a good place. When the shimmer trade spiked, you thought you'd never see any of the people you knew ever again, most of them probably either succumbed to the drug, or was killed during the many times the enforcers went down. You didn't like to think about it, but it's the harsh reality of Piltover.

Now you're walking the halls of one of the most esteemed universities inside of piltover, not as a student, but as a professor. You climbed your way to the top, and you know that your family is proud of you. They're the only reason this became possible, so when you got offered, you jumped at the chance. You're not complaining either, it's a well paying job with good benefits.

The day seemed to be going by incredibly slow, each hour felt like a year. You had a pile of tests on your desk that you had to mark, you've gotten through about half of them. But there's only so much marking someone can take before you feel like ripping your hair out.

So, instead of ripping your hair out, you decide to go on a coffee run and get some fresh air. You've been inside your office for so long, you're surprised you're still standing. One of the downsides to being a professor.

The walk to the Cafe down the road from the university isn't a long one. It's about three minutes, so long enough that you can get some well needed fresh air, but not long enough that you're regretting your decision.

When you reach the university, hit coffee in hand, you run into one of your former students, Jayce Talis. He gives you a friendly wave and comes up to you, “hey, professor. How's your day been?” He asks, awkwardly trying to make small talk and you have to cover your smile by pretending to clear your throat. “It's been well, thank you for asking. How's yours been?” You smile at him, not wanting to seem impolite by just ending the conversation there. He shrugs and sighs, you get the feeling.

Just when you're about to ask a question someone calls Jayce over, and when you both look over you're met with the sight of someone who you thought died long ago, but there he is, standing right in front of you, his cane in hand. You've heard of hextech, you're not in your office that much, and you've heard that Jayce didn't do it alone, but you never knew who his lab partner was. You also know that Heimerdinger has an assistant, but you were never able to catch said assistant's name. But you expected everything and anything, but him. You could have sworn he was dead.

“Viktor,” you manage to get out, although it's been years since you've last seen him, the memories you two made together as children stay fresh in your mind. Plus, he's incredibly attractive, everything from his overgrown hair to the way he leans on his cane, still managing to be taller than you, though not by much. It all had your mind swarming. His eyes rake over you before he looks back to your eyes, “Milý,” he breathes, a faint smile on his face as he continues, “you’re.. ehh.. hi.” He chuckles, standing a bit straighter on his cane. Before either of you can say anything else, Jayce buts in, “I hate to ruin a good moment, but the council wants to see us, Viktor.” Viktor nods and gives you one last nod before limping after Jayce.

Seeing someone who you hadn't seen in a good decade or so was not on your bucket list. You sit down in the chair behind your desk and lean back, letting your head just barely dangle off the back of the chair. You bring your hands up and rub your face, taking a deep breath and groaning. The sound is muffled by your hands. You sit back up again and sigh, you shouldn't feel this way. But you can't deny the way that you felt your heart race when you saw him again, he has such a boyish charm that just pulls you in, the same as is it did when you two were kids. You just chalk it up to a shock factor, you haven't seen him in years. You're just shocked, that's what you tell yourself.

The whole day all you can think about is him, you almost feel giddy, almost like a schoolgirl again. You take a breather, you've made a good amount of progress on the tests so you can afford a quick walk. Plus you have a class soon, and your classroom is on the other half of the university, and you've still got to set up your notes, you internally groan at the thought of giving another lecture. This is your fourth today.

When you finally reach the classroom, the professor that was using the room before you is just finishing cleaning up. You opened the door, only to be met with Viktor and Jayce, and then Heimerdinger soon after. You give a polite nod to Heimerdinger, and smile at Jayce and Viktor. You take your bag off and grab your notes, placing them on the table in front of you, before speaking up, “I thought your lecture ended a while ago, what are you still doing here?” You try and make your tone seem polite enough to cover up the, almost, rude question.

It's Jayce that speaks up first, “Heimerdinger thought it would be a good idea for us to sit in for one of your lectures, since the subject your an expert in is arcane.” You nod and chew the inside of your cheek. You're an amazing talker, and can easily give an hour long lecture, but with Viktor there, you feel anxious at the thought. Although it makes sense, hextech deals with arcane and what better person to listen to than someone who's an expert in it. You try and finish setting up without letting your mind wander too much, but your eyes keep on drifting from the papers in front of you to Viktor. When you look over at him, you find him already staring and he quickly looks away from you.

Now it's just a matter of waiting, you have ten minutes until your class starts so why not help Jayce and Viktor with their problems. You let them, mainly Jayce oddly enough, to ask you any questions they may have and you answer them to the best of your ability. Soon enough your class starts and you have to push away the temptation of staring at Viktor the whole time. Though, a few times you caught him, out of the corner of your eye, looking at you, and you embarrassingly stumbled over your words those times. You swear you saw the ghost of a smirk on his face at your reactions. Everything about him is so damn enticing, it's infuriating. How can one man be so wonderfully perfect, it doesn't make sense to you.

After your lecture, you're leaning over your desk, your mind swarming with thoughts, some not as innocent as you'd like.

When you're met with a hand on your back that has you letting out an embarrassingly loud yelp. Lo and behold, Viktor’s standing right behind you, with a smirk on his lips. “You seem awfully.. eh.. jumpy today, is everything alright?” He asks, moving his face closer to yours, and your heart is racing so fast you're convinced it'll jump out of your chest. His hand on your back moves lower until he rests it on the curve of your hip, gently squeezing it. “Yeah, I'm fine. Just tired.” You sigh, doing your best to not stutter or hesitate on your words. Viktor chuckles, the sound is something you'd pay to hear again, and moves his face closer to yours again. “Well, we can't have one of the best professors sleeping on the job. Now can we?” If it weren't for the teasing lift to his words you'd think he was actually concerned, but you both know that you're he's not actually. He almost immediately caught onto your lie.

You have to crane your neck at an, almost, uncomfortable angle to be able to see his face. You have to loft your face up for your neck to not be strained too much and you unintentionally bring your faces closer together. In the moment everything feels heightened, you're more aware of him. The hand he has on your hip feels heavier, you can feel the heat coming from his body from the proximity of you two, and you can smell him, a wonderful scent mixed with oil from the lab, the salty smell of the bay, and the knee-weakening scent of his cologne. Right now, everything about him feels intoxicating.

His hand lifts from your hip and to your back, carefully nudging you to turn around so you two are fully facing each other. He then places his hand on your chin to lift your face up, once again. He lets go and grabs your hand, placing it on his chest before speaking, in such a quiet tone you almost didn't hear him, “do you feel that?” Under your palm you can feel each beat of his heart, it's fast, probably just as fast as yours is. All you can muster is a nod. “That's what you're doing to me.” He sighs and brings his face closer to yours, the sound of his words mixed with the tone of his accent is something you're slowly becoming addicted to.

You bring your free hand up to hold his face, your finger traces his cheekbone and then you rest your palm on his face. “Good.” You smirk and his eyes flick down to your lips, and you take the hint, closing the gap between you two. He presses you against the desk and reciprocates the kiss, just as eager and desperate as you are. Each second that passes by feels like an eternity, and you hope it never ends. You've wrapped your arms around his neck and his free hand is resting on your hip. You're the one to pull away first with a quick gasp for air. Viktors face has a red flush to it and you swear you fell deeper in love right then and there.

“I've waited so long to do that, when you left for the top-side the only thing I regretted was not telling you how I felt.” He chuckles, stroking your hip, and you smile and lean in to kiss him again, this time it's him who closes the gap. His lips against yours feels right, you've kissed other people, men and women, but none have felt as right or as good as this. It's a bit messy, and rushed, but it feels right. You slide your hand back down to his chest, feeling his heart race under your palm is something that has you feeling giddy. He wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you impossibly closer to him. The moment, unfortunately, had to come to an end, the sound of the door opening, not only were you two caught but it reminded you that you two were inside a classroom, thankfully it wasn't a student who caught you, just an incredibly shocked Jayce. You look at Jayce and then back at Viktor, who looks just as shocked as Jayce, and you cover your mouth with your hand to stifle your giggles. “This is a place of learning, you two!” Jayce scoffs and throws his hands up, and Viktor groans, taking a few steps back.

“Good thing we're learning then, or we were learning.” Viktor teases, giving you a quick wink before going over to Jayce who looks even more shocked than before, he looks at you and then back at Viktor before groaning in defeat and chasing after Viktor. You're not sure what's going to happen between you and Viktor next, but you're sure that, whatever it is, it will be amazing.

[arowyn-m]

Viktor's Sequence in S2's Opening, What It Symbolizes & What it Means for the Rest of S2

So Act I dropped and it's great—Lots of plot points to go over in the future—but for now I want to deep dive into some interesting things I noticed about the intro, particularly found in Viktor's portion of it.

The opening is full of interesting symbolism and representations of Arcane's characters in their clearest, "purest" form (pure as in lacking impurities, not as in morally pure).

There's a lot of neat tidbits hidden in the opening, but I particularly want to dive into Viktor's segment because i am biased as hell his shots have some potentially incredible depth to them that I'd like to dissect.

A lot of that potential comes from what exactly the mask represents, which I'm arguing is not a symbol of Viktor's Machine Herald identity.

Hear me out.

Starting off with his first shot: we see Viktor reaching for the mask. Instantly after he makes contact we cut to a shot of Viktor holding the mask and considering it. He even turns it a little as he looks at its face, as if he's not quite sure what it is.

These shots are telling the story of S1 Viktor's experimentation with the Hexcore, particularly the research Viktor conducted AFTER his blood mixed with it...and yet, the mask does not represent the Hexcore itself, so how can it be telling that story?

I've seen a lot of theories of what exactly is the catalyst of Hextech's corruption into the Anomaly, and the most popular one at the moment seems to be that Blood + Hextech + Abuse of Magic = Anomaly/Angry Arcane. This theory seems to stem from the fact that not only did the Hexcore react to Viktor's blood, but so also did the Hexgates themselves.

Corruption found on the base floor of the Hexgates. There's a ceiling to this room, so there's very little chance that this is literally where Viktor's blood landed, but I do think his blood's presence in the Hextech-charged room triggered a chain reaction with the rest of the Hexgate. We may even see this happen in a flashback.

So, assuming these intro shots are representative of the moment when Viktor reached out and touched the Hexcore, and later when he's examining it more closely/experimenting with it, why don't these shots represent the Hexcore itself?

Because Viktor isn't making a move to put on the mask. He's just looking at it, thinking about it, considering what it is. Viktor absolutely made a move to use the Hexcore in S1—and killed his assistant in the process.

So what is he "looking" at?

I believe the mask is representative of the Arcane itself, and, by extension, its hold on Viktor's mind.

He's examined the Arcane and played with its properties—unsure of what to really make of it, but he never had the chance to take on the full potential of it. Once Sky died he realized that something was very wrong. Maybe he didn't realize how wrong, but he definitely concluded that this form of magic needed to be destroyed—thus the "Promise me" scene.

If the Blood + Hextech + Magic Overuse = the Arcane lashing out theory is true...then the moment that Viktor's blood mixes with the Hexcore is the moment it crosses the line from a mindless device to a tool of the Arcane.

This idea is only strengthened by Viktor's next shot—the mask being held to his face.

Viktor himself is not holding the mask—Jayce is. This shot depicts how Jayce used the Hexcore to save Viktor's life—very much against Viktor's will on multiple fronts—replacing Viktor's identity with a false one.

Jayce is putting the mask of the Arcane onto Viktor's face, hiding his true features, his emotions, his personality. The mask wears a flat, serene expression, reflecting Viktor's forcibly suppressed emotions in this Act—as we see with how Viktor interacted with Jayce when he woke up. As cathartic as that scene may have been, Vik was acting wildly out of character, and I sincerely think that was on purpose.

It's difficult to tell in this lighting but Vik's eyes are also their typical golden-amber in this shot. That would only make sense if this is symbolic of Viktor's true character being concealed by a false identity. It would make no sense to use Vik's amber eyes in a sequence meant to symbolize his new identity being concealed by the literal Machine Herald mask.

The final shot is not much different from the last one, but really drives home this comparison and the idea that the mask represents the Arcane, not Viktor's MH arc. The same mask is worn by numerous others, all slowly fading into view.

These faceless people are the Church of the Gloriously Evolved, all represented by the same exact mask that Viktor is poised to take on.

And yet, the mask is never fully put onto Viktor's face, unlike Viktor's followers. He can still back away. He can still hesitate.

So what does this all mean for S2?

It means that this ^ is not Viktor. This is a man either heavily under the influence of (or being fully controlled by) the Arcane.

And it also means that this trancelike state is not Viktor's endgame. I sincerely doubt this husk of who Viktor used to be will end up being the calculating antihero that is the Machine Herald.

Another point for the theory that Viktor's mental humanity will come back to him is the fact that Vik's in-game MH mask has golden eyes, mirroring Viktor's real eyes, not the lifeless—albeit shifting—gray of Viktor's current irises. Assuming Riot will be keeping this iconic part of Vik's design, that signals a change back from the emotionless puppet Viktor seems to be right now.

But I suppose we'll know for certain by the finale.

[mollysunder]

There is a theory that the way children play serves as a means to simulate and prepare them for the tasks they'll take on as adults. So for all the narrative weight both Jinx and the story give the boxing machine at the arcade it would never have prepared her or the kids to take on Piltover.

What are the two things that Piltovans excel at over their Zaunite counterparts to keep the hierarchy? Weapons and technological development.

When you look at the way Piltovans invest in their children, they don't prioritize hand to hand/melee combat training. Piltovans focus on giving their children experiences in handling firearms, a pursuit that is both leisure sport for the wealthy and a key offense against dissenting Zaunites.

And from the show notes even Jayce, whose family occupies the upper middle class, was sent on educational excursions across Runeterra to explore the world and learn what it had to offer. Without Jayce's education abroad he would never have been inspired to pursue the concept hextech.

It's no wonder that the two figures that are set to be Piltover's biggest threats from Zaun are Jinx and Viktor, becasue they engaged in the same kinds of games and activities as their Piltovan counterparts.

Jinx didn't have an entire forest preserved to help her practice her sharpshooting like the high houses of Piltover, but she did excel in the few games at The Rift (the arcade) that built on her talents. She's the only Zaunite thus far who's long distance offensive is a strong counter to Piltover's forces.

Viktor couldn't travel the world like Jayce did, but for better or worse he managed to stumble into an opportunity to get real opportunity in research not offered to his peers through Singed. It was through that experience that Viktor knew to turn to Singed when he was at the end of his rope, and the consequences of that will be fully realized in season 2.

Ironically, the kind of skill the boxing game champions is only good for keeping other Zaunites in line. Vander's days of fighting Piltover were way behind him when we first met him, and Vi spends season 1 primarily fighting other Zaunites. It's no surprise the Zaunites who embody the old ideal of strength in Zaun that the game portrays, Vi and Vander, are largely at the mercy of Piltover and end up collaborating with them to avoid further harm.

Zaun's future as an independent city-state couldn't happen if they stuck to their old ideals. The people who stand a chance against Piltover are the ones that not only succeed but excel at playing Piltover's games against them.

[silassinclair]

Hi! It's me the "Maddox with a sassy y/n" annon. Omg i just saw your post and it made my Whole Week! 😭

Thank you so much!

Anyway, i have a new request (if that is alright). I saw that you have a yandere Boxer but i didn't see to much info on him.

Could we get an introduction or some information for him? I'm really curious.

As always, have great day/night! ✨

Sorry this took a while to answer, just came back from the Philippines and I saw this req in my inbox. I’ve been waiting to write for him so now I have the chance to!! Hope you like it :D Also the beginning of this is really long, boring, and angsty but bear with me ya'll :) Also the Russian is google translate so it may be inaccurate :(

Masterlist Here!!

Next Part Here!!

Yandere Boxer x Reader

Viktor Markov was not the man you thought he was; well, not anymore. You both were raised in a small eastern European town. Him being the boy next door; always covered in dirt and was the sweetest little boy who would bring you flowers and bugs that he found. And you were the weird little girl who would collect the rocks and flowers that he gifted you with a smile. So naturally the two of you became friends, two peas in a pod.

He always had your back and you always had his. Growing up together in eastern Europe was hard. Both of you came from a pretty rough neighborhood and home life but that didn't stop you two from being happy. After all you only needed each other. It was just you two against the world. And it was like that for years.

Well, that was until high school. Viktor stopped talking to you in Sophomore year. Your calls went ignored, socials un-interacted, and texts delivered. So you just gave up. You no longer chased after him or begged him to tell you what was wrong when all he did was give you a cold shoulder. And honestly, you just didn't want to be around him anymore.

He got in with a bad crowd. Some upperclassmen guys who would just skip class to smoke. And seeing your childhood best friend become one of them broke your heart. You tried, you really did. But instead the blonde snapped at you, telling you to stop acting like his Mother and that he didn't need you anymore. And he was right, Viktor was more grown up now. Hard jawline, firm muscles, and standing at a staggering 6'3 feet tall.

He didn't need your back anymore.

And you didn't need his.

High school was a blur. You kept to your studies and only had a small circle of friends that consisted of all girls who have all been friends longer than before you ever came around. You were the grass friend. They all walked on the sidewalk while you trailed behind to the side; always stepping in the mud and grass. They weren't really your friends, you just didn't want to be alone. And they didn't see you as a friend, they just didn't want you to be alone. Pitiful isn't it?

But none of it mattered. It was all over and done in the blink of an eye. After high school was university and in university was medical school and after medical school was a new beginning. Being a docotor was never really your dream. It was your parent's dream and they just wanted the best for their little girl. You didn't want to disapoint them and go to culinary school like what you really wanted. So you worked and went to med school at the same time.

It was hard. It really was. You have no friends, no social life, and no one has your back. Yet it's your job to have people's backs. Ironic and unfair. But that's life.

Money was getting tight. Paying off student loans and working multiple jobs was getting exhausting. Living? No, it felt like you were dying. But you got offered a job you could not refuse. A patient came into your office. It was an older man in his early 50s.

"You're quite quiet for a doctor." He says. "Shy thing are you?"

You give him a silent nod. Hopefully this conversation doesn't take the turn you don't want it to take. Getting harassed by patients as a woman doctor is scarily common.

"I need a doctor. One like you; diligent, quiet, and quite the eye candy. Work for me krasivyy (beautiful). The pay is better than working in this heap clinic."

You eye him oddlyand whisper, "Why do you need me? Do you want me to be one of those underworld doctors or something? If so then no. I won't be patching up assassins or serial killers."

The man laughs, his voice booming in the small examination room.

"No no. You won't be dealing with any of those type. But this still is underground as you say. I own an underground boxing ring. And I need a doctor to patch up my fighters. Illegal, but good pay no?

You thought about it for two minutes then finally gave your answer.

“When do I start?”

The man’s name is Radko. And right now you’re in his gym. It’s dark, stinky, and full of shirtless men training for their next match. You thought you felt out of place in school? Nope, this is 100x worse. And some of these guys are acting like they’ve never seen a woman before.

“Stop looking at me like that weirdo.” You think to yourself while walking past a guy on a bench who’s wiping the sweat off his chest. His hungry gaze on you sends shivers down your spine.

“Ignore their stares.” Radko puts a rough hand on your shoulder. “They’re not used to seeing pretty women.”

“Yeah I can see that.” You mutter.

You two stop in front of the door near the back of the gym. It says “Clinic” in front of the door. He opens the door and you’re greeted with a surprisingly clean office. Radko must have cleaned up a little when he knew you would be coming.

“This is where you’ll be. Some guys will walk in pretty roughed up. Just patch em up abd send them on their way. If any of em try anything with you, you tell me right away. Okay?”

Radko was like a Dad and you liked that about him. A pretty intimidating Dad who owns an illegal boxing ring but what does that matter. Doesn’t particularly make him a bad person.

“Okay. Thank you.” You say with a warm smile.

“Ah you’re so milyy (cute)! Please don’t quit within the first week, I don’t think my heart can handle it if you go.” Radko says and hugs you. You give the big man a pat on the back in return.

“I’ll leave you to it now. You’ll receive your pay bi-weekly. See you now.”

And with that you were left alone. You were left in a small private clinic you could call your own. Maybe this job wouldn’t be as bad as you thought? But all positive thoughts flew out the window when your first patient of the day walked in.

Tall, pale, short blonde hair, scarred torso, muscle on muscle, and piercing blue eyes. All features of someone whom you thought you would never see again. Who you never wanted to see again.

“Kroshechnyy?” (Tiny)

God that nick name. There was a time it would make you smile and laugh. But now it just pissed you off. He had the audacity to call you that as if you two were still buddy buddy? No, fuck that. Fuck him.

“It’s Y/n to you now. What do you want Viktor?”

The man’s face creased with pain. Not physical, no, something worse.

“What are you doing here? This place isn’t for you.” His voice was a deeper timbre from when you last spoke to him Sophomore year. He walks closer to you and you can smell his sweat from training but also… Jean Paul Gaultier? Why would you wear designer fragrance at a gym? Weirdo.

Little did you know when he saw you walk in the gym he immediately raced to the locker room to freshen up and see you.

“I’m a doctor. I got a side job from Radko.” You explain swiftly. “If you’re uninjured then please leave. Other patients may come in with actual reasons to see me.”

Rather than face to face you’re face to chest with him. How the hell did he get so tall? You crane your neck up to meet his eyes.

His expression stiffens. His usual cold demeanor returns.

“You shouldn’t be here. This place isn’t for you. It’s dangerous.”

You roll your eyes. “I think I can manage. Now please leave me alone. You’re the last person I ever want to see.”

Viktor ignores the comment and his gaze remains ice cold. You nearly shiver, did the room temperature drop?

“Stop acting childish. Tell Rad that you quit.”

“But I’m not quitting.”

He steps closer.

“I’ll make you.”

“And what are you gonna do?”

He bends down to your level and scoffs.

“I don’t need to lift a finger. You’ll get scared and run off with your tail between those little legs of yours. These men here will eat you alive.”

Did he not think you knew that before you signed up for all this? You were aware of what you walked into. Underground gym, surrounded by men, all physically fit to the max. They could rip you in half. But you needed this job. There wasn’t time to be afraid.

“Yeah yeah I know. I don’t need your lecture. Now get out before I tell Radko.”

Viktor leans closer. His nose mere centimeters from yours.

“Don’t come crying to me when you get hurt.”

“If I get hurt then I’ll just patch myself up. I didn’t go through 4 years of med school just to cry when I’m in pain.”

The tall Russian growls lowly to himself and leaves, not before slamming the door of course.

“Fuck…”

This new job of yours just got worse tenfold.

It’s been about two weeks since you started working here. And you’ve met all of Radko’s men. They weren’t as bad as you thought they would be. Yeah they would flirt with you but not in the gross way. They knew when to quit.

Well, all of them except for Vladimir. The same one who eyed you like a piece of meat the first day you came here. Everyday he would come to the clinic to shoot his shot. And everyday you turned him down.

“Little kotenok (kitten) is still feisty.” Vladimir clicks his tongue. He manspreads in the examination chair, flexing his ab muscles and turning his head to the side to show off his impressive jawline. But all it does is un-impress you.

“If you’re going to waste my time like this everyday then I’m going to tell Radko.” You firmly state and cross your arms.

Like a kicked puppy the boxer whines, “Nooooo. I’m sorry please don’t kick me out. This is the only room besides Coach’s that is air conditioned.”

You can’t help but chuckle at that.

“Not my problem, do an ice bath or something.”

Vladimir chuckles and goes to say something else but stops himself when he sees and hears the door open. You also turn your attention to the door, wondering who it is and why they didn’t knock.

“Get out.” Viktor says. His voice like stone, as is his glare. His bloody swollen eye only ads to his intimidating aura.

Vladimir gets out of the chair and groans. “Way to be a cockblock Vicky.” He says mockingly.

You were about to shoot in and say how there was no way you would give him the light of day but Viktor had other plans. His fist makes contact with Vladimir’s abdomen with a mean punch. Making the other man wheeze and keel over in pain.

“Get the fuck out.” Viktor grabs him by the hair and kicks him out of the office. Literally. The door then slams shut, leaving you alone with your heated childhood friend.

“Thanks…” You mutter. Unable to look into his eyes, well… eye. The other is swollen shut.

He grunts and sits on the examination bed. Getting into doctor mode you walk over to Viktor and assess the damage. There’s a few bruises on his ribs but his eyes seem to be the worst. Delicately you touch part of the bruised eye and he inwardly flinches, making you draw your hand back in an instant.

“What happened?” You softly ask.

“Alexei sucker punched me. Dick.”

You stifle a laugh, making your patient deadpan. “Typical Alexi. I’ll tell him off the next time he comes in here complaining about his stomach aches.”

Viktor and you are silent when you rub ointment on his bruises. After the ointment is all done you hand him an icepack.

“Use this for the eye.”

He nods and thanks you with a silent nod. Then, he leaves just like that.

After that you would see more of Viktor and less Vladimir. To be honest you’ve been seeing less of everyone. Everyday Viktor came in with new reasons to come to you. Headaches, head trauma, bruises, scratches, and the worst was a dislocation.

“What is it this time?” You don’t even need to face the door to know who it is.

“He needs help!”

You whip around immediately, nearly spilling your coffee. You see Alexi and Cain at the door and draped over their shoulders is an unconscious Vladimir. You run over to them and tell them to lay Vladimir down on the bed gently while you assess his condition.

“What happened!?” You say worriedly. He was barely breathing. You begin doing chest compressions.

“We found him outside. Some of those bastards from west gym probably did this to him…” Cain says, his eyes are full of rage.

The compressions aren’t working. So instead you ready up the life support. He won’t last long with traumatic brain injuries like this.

“What’s gonna happen to him Doc?” Alexi sounds the most worried. He’s just a kid, only being 17.

“I’m putting him under life support.” And it was damn hard to do it on your own.

“Thank you.” Cain says. He puts a hand on the small of Alexi’s back. “Let’s leave her alone. She’s busy.”

The two men leave. Leaving you alone with Vladimir who has one foot in hell. No offense Vladimir, but no way you’re going to heaven. All day you stay by Vladimir’s side. Other men come in to check on him or get patch ups. And you go about your job, leaving the unconscious man to rest on the bed.

If I knew she would be stuck to his side like glue then I never would have beaten the fucker half to death. The plan was to kill him but the stubborn bastard just didn’t want to die. I watch Y/n from outside the clinic. The window’s blinds are open. She’s so close yet so far; always out of my reach. Part of it is my fault. I was the one who pushed her away after all.

But I had no choice. I didn’t want her involved with the people I was involved with in high school. I needed them in order to get some side jobs. Hell, a couple of them box for Radko too at this gym. I thought Y/n would be gone from my life for good, but I was wrong. I thought God was punishing me for the things I have done but it seems like he took pity on me just this once by bringing her back to me and letting me have a second chance.

But so far I’m making no progress. What even is love? I know I love her but I don’t know how. All I know is that I need to protect her from all the wolves here. I already staked my claim on her but one fucker didn’t want to listen. Vladimir, that egotistical thorn in my side. The next chance I get I'll kill him for good. It's not like this is my first time killing for her after all.

High school was when I first took someone's life. Some upperclassman bitch was harassing Y/n. I couldn't stand watching her suffer. And I couldn't comfort her like before when we were young; by this time I already cut off Y/n for good. But I knew there was something I could do. So I killed her. And I killed anyone who dared breathe Y/n's name wrong.

I'll do whatever I can to protect the love of my life. Slowly, little by little, I'll win her back. She'll be mine again and we'll be even closer than friends. But for now I'll do what I can to keep her safe from the sidelines. Even if it means she'll find out and hate me forever.

[natsaffection]

Mafias Mistress pt. 4 | N.R

MafiaBoss!Natasha x CivilianYounger!Reader

Warnings: 18+! MINORS DNI! Age gap (Natasha is 32 = reader ist 22), Gore, guns, Death, screaming, so much teasing, be forced to watch people have sex, restraints, Begging, edging

Word Count: 7,4K

A/N: truely very exciting to write..🫠

You hummed softly to yourself as you moved around the kitchen, the tantalizing aroma of dinner filling the cozy apartment.

Tonight was supposed to be a peaceful evening, a chance to relax after the recent chaos. You were determined to create a feast that would make even Natasha smile after a long day.

You barely noticed the sound of the front door creaking open at first, completely focused on the task at hand. "Natasha, you're home early!" you called out cheerfully without turning around. "I'm almost done with dinner. You're going to love it!"

The silence that followed your words was unexpected and sent a shiver down your spine. Slowly you turned around, a smile still on your lips. But the figure standing in the doorway was not Natasha.

A tall, imposing man with sharp features and cold eyes stared at you. His presence radiated menace, and the way he surveyed the room sent a wave of fear over you. Your heart pounded in your chest as you instinctively took a step back.

"Who are you?" you asked, trying to keep calm despite the rising panic in your voice. The man grinned, his gaze never leaving yours. "Viktor," he replied, his tone dripping with malice. "I'm an old... acquaintance of Natasha's. You must be Y/N."

Your mind raced, trying to piece together the fragments of the conversations you once had with Natasha. Viktor. But that name means absolutely nothing to you.

"What do you want?" you asked, your voice shaking despite your efforts to appear brave.

Viktor took a step closer, his presence overwhelming the small kitchen. "I'm here to leave a message," he said, his eyes flashing with a cruel light. "Natasha has interfered in matters that are none of her business. It's time she understood the consequences."

Your breath caught as you realized the gravity of the situation. You were a pawn, a means to an end in a game that was far more dangerous than you had imagined. The knife you had been using to cut vegetables lay within reach, but you knew it was no match for Viktor's imposing frame.

Your next move was driven by desperation. Without thinking, you grabbed the knife and held it up defensively. "Stay back!" you warned, your voice firmer now, even though your hands were shaking.

Viktor chuckled, a chilling sound that sent shivers down your spine. "Brave, but stupid," he said, taking another step forward. "Do you really think you can stop me?"

Before you could react, Viktor lunged at you, disarming you with terrifying ease. The knife fell useless to the ground. He grabbed your arm with an iron grip and pulled you close.

"You will deliver a message for me," he hissed, his breath hot against her ear. "Tell Natasha she can't hide forever. We will find her. And when we do, she will pay for her interference."

Tears of fear and frustration welled up in your eyes as you struggled against his grip, but Viktor's strength was overwhelming. "Let go of m-me!" you cried, your voice breaking.

With one final, menacing smile, Viktor released you and pushed you back. As you collapsed to the floor, shaking and gasping for air, you didn't hear the sound of footsteps quickly approaching outside.

The front door swung open again, revealing Natasha, heading to your apartment to surprise you. "Y/N, I'm him-" Natasha's voice trailed off as her gaze fell on the scene before her. Her eyes widened in fear and anger as she saw you slumped on the floor, Viktor standing over you.

The smile that had graced Natasha's face moments before vanished, replaced by a cold, deadly expression. Her body tensed, and in an instant she was a predator ready to attack.

"Viktor," Natasha spat, her voice a dangerous growl. "Get away from her." Viktor slowly turned around, his expression one of slight surprise mixed with amusement. "Natasha, what a pleasant surprise," he drawled, though the malice in his eyes betrayed his words. "Exactly the woman I was hoping to see."

Natasha's eyes flashed with anger as she walked toward him, each step deliberate and full of menace. "You made a big mistake coming here," she hissed in a deep, deadly voice.

Viktor laughed, though there was a hint of unease in his eyes as he faced Natasha's wrath in full force. "We'll see," he said, his bravery wavering slightly.

Without warning, Viktor drew a gun and pointed it directly at you. The intention was clear: to hurt Natasha by hurting the person she cared about.

Your scream and plea pierced the air, your eyes widening in fear. "Natasha, please, do whatever he wants!" you pleaded, your voice shaking uncontrollably.

Something dark flickered in Natasha's eyes as she reached under her jacket and pulled out her own gun, pointing it hard at Viktor. Your shock was palpable, your world spinning out of control. The Natasha you knew had never hinted at this side of herself. Is she a cop? Does she have the gun for self-defense?

"Put the gun down, Viktor," Natasha ordered, her voice cold and unwavering. "This is between you and me."

Victor's grin faded as he looked between Natasha and you. "So, the kitten has claws," he sneered. "But do you really think you can pull the trigger, Natasha? While she's watching?"

Your heart was pounding, your head was racing. This was a side of Natasha you'd never seen, never even imagined. The realization that Natasha was deeply involved in a dangerous world shook you to the core.

"Natasha, please," you whisper, your voice breaking. "Just do what he says." Natasha's eyes softened for a brief moment as they met yours, but the iron resolve quickly returned. "I won't let him hurt you," she said, her voice filled with a deadly promise.

In the tense standoff, Viktor's confidence began to waver. He had underestimated Natasha's resolve and willingness to protect you at all costs. "Last chance, Viktor," Natasha said, her voice deadly. "Drop the gun and walk away, or I'll end this right now."

Viktor hesitated, gripping the gun tighter. But he could see the determination in Natasha's eyes, the unwavering resolve that meant she wouldn't hesitate to fire. Slowly he lowered his weapon, a frustrated growl escaping his lips. Natasha moved quickly, disarming Viktor and knocking him to the ground. She stood over him, her gun pointed at his head, her expression cold and merciless.

"You will never threaten her again," Natasha said, her voice ice cold. "You and Dreykov will get the message loud and clear." Viktor's eyes widened in fear as he realized the true depth of Natasha's determination. Before he could say another word, Natasha pulled the trigger and the shot echoed through the apartment.

Your scream shattered the silence, a raw, emotive sound of shock and terror. You crawled away and pressed yourself against the kitchen counter, your eyes widening in horror as you stared at Viktor's lifeless body.

"Y/N, don't look at him, look at me.." Natasha said quietly, turning to you. She held out a hand, her expression full of concern. "It's okay- it’s okay! You're safe now!“

"D-Don't touch me!" you screamed, your voice high in panic. "Stay away from me!" Natasha froze, her heart breaking as she saw the fear in your eyes. She took a step back and raised her hands in a placating gesture. "Y/N, please, just let me explain-"

"I said stay away!!" you screamed again, your body shaking. "What did you d-do? He gave up! He-"

At that moment, the front door flew open and Maria stormed into the apartment along with several of Natasha's men. Maria took in the scene with a quick, practiced glance, her eyes narrowing as she assessed the situation and knew what to do.

Maria stepped forward and placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder. "It's going to be okay," she said in a firm voice. "I'm from the police and I'm here to help..“

You looked at Maria, confusion and fear battling in your eyes. "An officer? I don't understand...h-how did you know...?"

Natasha's eyes met Maria's, a silent understanding passing between them. "We have to go," Natasha said quietly, her voice full of urgency. "They're going to come get us now."

You shook your head, your fear giving way to anger. "No! I'm not going anywhere with you! You lied to me, I-I don't even know who you are!"

Maria squeezed your shoulder gently, your eyes serious. "Y/N, I know this is a lot to take in, but you have to trust us. Natasha is trying to protect you. If you stay here, you're in danger."

"I know I lied, but everything I did was to protect you.. You have to come with me. It's not safe here anymore.." Your eyes darted between Natasha and Maria, your mind racing. The woman you thought you knew stood before you, a stranger in many ways, but your desperation and sincerity were undeniable. The apartment that had once felt like a sanctuary now felt like a prison, its walls closing in with every second.

"Y/N," Maria interjected gently but firmly, "Natasha is right. We don't have much time. I understand that you're scared and angry, but we have to move. Staying here is not an option.”

Your breath came in short gasps, your thoughts a whirlwind of fear, betrayal and confusion. “You’re a cop?” you ask, searching for some semblance of truth in the chaos.

Maria nodded, her face a mask of calm determination. “We need to get you to a safe place where we can explain everything.”

Natasha’s eyes never left yours, the vulnerability in your gaze breaking through the fear and confusion. “Please, Y/N. Trust me one last time. I promise I’ll explain everything, but we have to go now.”

Tears welled up in your eyes as you looked at Natasha, the woman you loved and the woman you now realized you didn't fully know. The weight of the decision weighed on you, the urgency of the situation colliding with your need for answers.

"Okay," you finally whisper, your voice barely audible. "Okay, I'll go with you." Relief flooded Natasha's face, but she kept her composure, knowing they were far from safe. "Thank you," she said quietly. "We need to leave right now. Maria, can you get the car ready?"

Maria nodded and quickly walked to the door, yelling orders to the men outside. Natasha turned to you, her hand gently brushing your arm. "Stay close to me," she commanded in a firm but gentle voice. "I won't let anything happen to you."

You nodded dazedly and let Natasha lead you out of the apartment. The hallway was filled with Natasha's men, their faces grim and watchful. They formed a protective barrier around you as you made your way to the elevator, the tension in the air palpable.

The elevator ride down felt like an eternity, the silence heavy with unspoken fears and questions. You clung to Natasha's arm, your head reeling from the events that had unfolded so quickly. The woman you thought you knew was a stranger, her life a series of secrets and shadows.

When you reached the ground floor, Maria signaled for the car to be called. Natasha held you close, her eyes scanning the area for signs of danger. The car stopped and the men quickly ushered you inside, the doors closing with a reassuring thud.

Maria slid into the driver's seat and looked back at you. "We're going to a safe house," she said in a commanding tone. "When we get there, we'll explain everything."

You nodded, your hands shaking as she held onto Natasha. The car sped through the city streets, the lights blurring in a haze of confusion and fear. Natasha's arm wrapped around you, her presence a small comfort in the midst of the chaos.

"Y/N," Natasha said softly, her voice breaking the silence. "I know you're scared and confused. I promise I'll explain everything. But right now, I need you to trust me. Can you do that?"

You looked up at Natasha, your eyes searching for the truth in her gaze. "I'll try," you whispered.

The car drove through the night, a silent vessel carrying you away from the life you had known. Exhaustion, fear, and shock finally took their toll, and despite your best efforts, your eyelids grew heavy. Your body succumbed to overwhelming fatigue. Natasha held you close, murmuring quiet reassurances until you slipped into a restless sleep.

When you woke up, the world felt disorientingly different. You blinked, your eyes adjusting to the dim light filtering through the heavy curtains. You slowly sat up, the luxurious silk sheets and soft pillows around you an unfamiliar comfort. The room was large, elegantly decorated with expensive furniture and artwork that spoke of wealth and power.

A knot of fear tightened in your chest. Where am I? Your mind raced, you tried to piece together the fragments of your last coherent memories. The confrontation with Viktor, the horrific car ride, Natasha's grim determination.

The bedroom door creaked open and Natasha stepped in, her expression softening when she saw you awake. "Y/N," she began in a soft voice.

Your heart lurched, fear mingling with anger. You climbed back onto the bed, your eyes widening. "Stay away from me," you said, your voice shaking. "I want answers. Now."

Natasha paused, pain flickering in her eyes, but she nodded. "I understand," she said quietly. "You deserve the truth.." You clutched the sheets, your knuckles white. "Where are we? What kind of place is this?"

"We're in a safe house," Natasha explained, her tone calm but serious. "One of many I have for when things get dangerous. We're in Spain, far away from the immediate threat."

"S-Spain!?" you repeated, raising your voice. "You took me out of the country? Without asking me!?"

Natasha took a step closer, holding out her hands in a placating gesture. "I had to, Y/N. It wasn't safe for you in the city anymore. Dreykov and his people would have found us and especially you.."

Your eyes flashed with anger. "And whose fault is that? You lied to me about everything. I don't even know who you are."

Natasha winced, but nodded, accepting the accusation. "You're right. I lied to you. But please, let me explain." Your silence was your only response, your eyes demanding the truth.

Natasha took a deep breath, her expression determined. "I'm part of the mafia, Y/N. The Bratva, to be precise. I've been involved in this world for years, long before we met. My role is... significant. I run operations, deal with threats, and yes, sometimes that means doing terrible things."

The words hung heavy in the air, the reality of Natasha's confession crashing down on you. "The Bratva?" you whispered, your voice barely audible. "I wrote about them. About you, without knowing it.."

Natasha's eyes softened. "I know. I read your articles." Tears filled your eyes, your world fell apart. "So it was all a lie? Our relationship, your love for me?"

"No!" Natasha said urgently, stepping closer. "That was real. Everything I felt for you, everything we shared was real. But I had to keep my other life a secret to protect you."

"Protect me?" you scoffed, the betrayal cutting deep. "You put me in more danger than I could have ever imagined!" Natasha's face twisted in pain. "I know. And I'm so sorry, Y/N. I never wanted this. But I couldn't shirk my responsibility. Not without putting us both in even greater danger."

You shook your head, tears flowing over. "And Maria? She said she was a police officer. Is that at least true??" Natasha hesitated, then shook her head. "Maria is one of my most trusted allies. She's not a cop. She's part of the organization, someone I trust with my life."

Your heart broke again. "So another lie..."

"I didn't want it to be like this," Natasha said desperately. "I wanted to protect you, give you a normal life. But the world I live in... doesn't allow that."

Your voice trembled with anger and sadness. "I want to go home, Natasha. I want my life back." Natasha's expression turned sad. "You can't go back, Y/N. Not now. Dreykov's people will look for you. Staying here is the only way to pr-“

"I don't want your protection!" you say, your voice shaking. "I want my life back!" Natasha took a step closer, her eyes pleading. "Please, Y/N. I know you're scared and angry. But if you leave now, you'll be in even more danger. Give me time to fix this."

Your shoulders slumped, the weight of your emotions crushing you. "I don't know if I can trust you anymore, Natasha." Natasha's eyes filled with unshed tears. "I understand. But I promise you, I will do everything in my power to make this right."

As the night wore on, you lay in the unfamiliar bed, your mind raging with a storm of confusion, fear, and grief. The life you had known was shattered, and the future was a terrifying unknown. Yet despite the pain, there was a glimmer of hope, a weak, fragile thread of trust that Natasha desperately tried to hold onto.

In the silent darkness, you made a promise to yourself. You would find a way to get through this, to reclaim your life, and to understand the truth about the woman you loved. No matter how dangerous the path ahead, you would face him head on, with or without Natasha.

The morning light filtered through the heavy curtains, casting a soft glow on the luxurious bedroom. You stirred, the events of the previous night coming back to you as you blinked awake. The room, with its opulent furnishings and unfamiliar comfort, felt like a gilded cage.

The door opened and Natasha entered, her face a mixture of relief and concern when she saw Y/N awake. "How are you feeling?" she asked quietly.

Your heart clenched, a whirlwind of emotions overwhelming you "I don't know," you admitted, your voice strained. "I still don't know if I can forgive you...You kill for a living Natasha...You have blood on your hands from what? How many?"

Natasha nodded, her expression pained. "I understand. But I'm here to answer all of your questions. I want to fix this as best I can.”

You look away, your mind racing. “I want to talk to Maria, if that is her real name,” you said firmly. “I want to hear her side of the story.”

Natasha hesitated, but then nodded. “Okay. I’ll bring her here.” A few moments later, Maria entered the room, her expression calm but serious. “Y/N,” she greeted in a respectful tone.

Your eyes narrowed, your trust shaken. “You lied to me too,” you accused. “You said you were from the police, for what?” Maria’s face softened with regret. “I’m sorry. We had to get out of this place as soon as possible. And yes, I’m not a police officer. I work with Natasha and my job is to ensure her safety and therefore yours too.”

Your anger flared. “How can I believe anything you say now?? How do I know you’re not just manipulating me?” Maria took a deep breath, her eyes serious. "You don't have to trust me, Y/N. But know that your safety is my priority. Natasha loves you and I respect that. I'm here to help you in any way I can."

You shook your head, the weight of betrayal weighing heavily on your heart. "I want to go home," you repeated firmly. "I don't want to stay here."

Natasha stepped forward, her eyes pleading. "Y/N, please.." You looked at Natasha, the pain of betrayal mixed with the remnants of love and trust. "I need time to think," you said quietly. "I need to figure everything out."

The days blurred into one another, each one feeling like an eternity as you mastered your new life on the sprawling estate. The house was a testament to opulence, each room carefully decorated with priceless art, luxurious furniture and cutting-edge technology. It was a palace compared to her humble abode, but the splendor did not ease the pain in your heart.

Every morning you wake up in the enormous bedroom, the bed too big and too empty. The silence was oppressive, only broken by the occasional rustle of curtains in the wind or the distant hum of the house staff's activity. Natasha had taken your words to heart, keeping a respectful distance and giving you the space you had asked for.

Despite the apparent freedom to explore the property, you were never truly alone. No matter where you went - the lavish living room with its panoramic views, the quiet library filled with rare books or the immaculate gardens filled with vibrant flowers - Natasha's men were always there. They followed you in silence, their presence a constant reminder of your gilded imprisonment.

One afternoon, the frustration and helplessness boiled over. You stood in the middle of the large foyer, your voice echoing through the vast space as you shouted at the men following you. "If you follow me for another second!! Get out of here!"

The men remained stoic, their expressions unchanged, their eyes fixed forward. Their training was impeccable, a testament to Natasha's influence. They didn't even flinch when your anger flared, their silence only heightening your sense of isolation.

"Do you hear me?" you shouted, your voice breaking with agitation. "I said leave me alone!" Still, there was no response. The men stood like statues, unwavering in their duty.

In desperation, you retreated to the garden, seeking solace among the blooming flowers and carefully tended hedges. You sat on a bench, burying your face in your hands, tears streaming down your cheeks. The beauty around you was lost in the storm of your emotions.

As the days went by, you tried to find some semblance of normalcy. You spent hours in the library, losing yourself in books, hoping to escape the reality of your situation. You explored the many rooms of the estate, marveling at the luxury but feeling a pang of resentment at the life you had to leave behind.

Meals were a solitary affair, served in the large dining room by the staff. The food was exquisite, prepared by a chef whose skills surpassed anything you had ever experienced. Yet every bite tasted bitter, a reminder of the freedom you had lost.

Every night, as you lay in the enormous bed, your thoughts inevitably turned to Natasha. Despite the betrayal, you couldn't deny the love you still felt. It was a confusing tangle of emotions—love, anger, fear, and a longing for the truth.

One night, after another day of wandering alone and keeping silent vigil, you happened to find Natasha in the living room. The sight of her stirred something deep inside you - a mixture of longing and anger.

"Natasha," you said, your voice shaking. "Why are you doing this? Why can't you just let me go?"

Natasha looked up, her eyes filled with a sadness that matched yours. "I'm doing this to protect you, Y/N. How many times..! I know it doesn't look like it, but I'm trying-“

"Protect.." you scoffed, tears welling up in your eyes. "I don't feel safe. I feel like a prisoner." Natasha stepped closer, but you raised a hand and stopped her. "You said you wanted space, and I tried to give you that," Natasha said quietly. "But I can't leave you unprotected. The danger is still out there.”

Your heart ached under the weight of Natasha's words. Despite the anger and betrayal, you could see the genuine fear and worry in Natasha's eyes. “I don't know what to feel anymore,” you admitted, your voice breaking. “I love you, but I hate what you did and what you still do.”

“I know,” Natasha whispered, tears glistening in her eyes. “And I'm so sorry for everything. But I promise you, I'll do whatever it takes to make it right.”

As you left, you still felt a spark of hope—a faint, fragile thread that maybe, just maybe, you could find a way through this together. But now you had to navigate the maze of your emotions to find your own way in this new, uncertain world.

As days turned into weeks, your emotions shifted from confusion and sadness to burning anger. The more you saw of Natasha's world, the deeper your resentment grew. You overheard snippets of conversation, saw deals being made, and witnessed the machinations of a life based on power and deceit.

One evening, as you walked through the halls, you overheard a conversation that drove you mad. Two of Natasha's men were talking in low, conspiratorial tones.

"Remember the old days?" one of them said, his voice dripping with nostalgia. "When the boss had a different girl every week? It was a constant party..”

The other man laughed. “Oh man..that was pure cinema.. But it seems like things have changed. She is pretty attached to this girl now..Don't know what she gets from her- Well..I do know actually..She’s hot..”

Your heart clenched as you took the implication. So Natasha had used countless women before you and treated them like disposable toys..

If Natasha thought she could keep you under control, she would learn a very painful lesson. So you decided to turn the tables and play your own game. You would use Natasha's own methods against her and undermine her composure until she broke.

The next day, you dressed carefully, choosing an outfit that was both elegant and provocatively seductive. As you walked through the mansion, you made sure Natasha's men could see you. You smiled at them, your eyes lingering a little too long, your touch a little too familiar.

In the kitchen, you found yourself next to one of the guards, a tall, gruff man with a rough side. You leaned close to him, your voice soft and seductive. "Could you help me with something?" you asked, brushing your hand against his arm.

The man stiffened, visibly uncomfortable but unable to resist your charms. "Of course, miss," he replied, his voice strained. You smiled, a devilish glint in your eyes. "Thank you," you purred, letting your hand linger a moment longer than necessary.

Natasha entered the room just as you were laughing at something the guard had said. Her eyes narrowed, a hint of anger crossing her face. You met her gaze, your smile becoming cold and triumphant.

As the days went by, you upped your game. You flirted shamelessly with the guards, your laughter and touches becoming more and more obvious. You dodged Natasha's attempts at conversation, fending off her touches with cold indifference.

One evening, Natasha found you in the living room, your hand resting on a guard's arm as you laughed at something he had said. The guard looked uncomfortable, his eyes darting nervously to Natasha and he took a step back fearfully, "R-Romanoff, I-"

"Y/N," Natasha said, your voice strained with barely controlled anger. "Can I talk to you for a minute?"

You turned around, your smile icy. Natasha waited until you were alone before she spoke, her eyes flashing. "What do you think you're doing?" she demanded, her voice deep and dangerous.

You crossed your arms and met Natasha's gaze with a defiant look. "What do you think I'm doing? I'm just having a little fun. Or is that not allowed in your world?"

Natasha took a step closer, her anger palpable. "You're playing a dangerous game, Y/N." You laughed, your voice bitter. "A dangerous game? Like the one you played with all the other girls? Or am I just another toy for you, Natasha?"

Natasha flinched, the accusation hitting home. "You're not a toy for me, Y/N. I love-"

"Love?" you scoffed, "Is that what you call it? Keeping me locked up, surrounded by your men, while you go about your dirty business?" Natasha clenched her fists, her control slipping away. "You're here because it's the only way to keep you safe! When will you finally understand that!"

"THATS not true!!“ you shouted back, your anger boiling over. "I don't feel safe, Natasha. I feel like a prisoner. A prisoner in your twisted game!!" Natasha's eyes darkened, her composure finally breaking. "You have no idea what I've sacrificed for you," she growled. "What I've done to get you here.“

You stepped closer, your voice cold and venomous. "And I never asked for it. All I wanted was the truth. But you couldn't even give me that." Natasha's breath came in ragged gasps, her anger barely contained. "You're pushing me, Y/N," she warned, her voice a dangerous whisper.

You grinned, the excitement of rebellion sparkling in your eyes. "Maybe it's time someone hit back." The tension between you crackled, an explosive mix of anger, betrayal, and unresolved desire. Natasha took a step forward, her eyes locked on yours, her control hanging by a thread.

But before anything could happen, Maria stormed into the room with a grim expression. "We have a problem," she said in an urgent voice.

Natasha turned, her anger now ricocheting onto Maria as well. "What!?" Maria looked at you, her eyes filled with a mixture of compassion and concern. "It's dreykov."

Natasha's face hardened, her anger replaced by cold determination. She turned to you, her eyes burning with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat. "This isn't over," she said in a low, dangerous voice.

You returned her gaze, her own anger simmering. "No, it's not." As they prepared to leave, the tension between you remained, a simmering conflict that threatened to erupt at any moment. The game you were playing was dangerous and successful. But amidst your anger and betrayal, a spark of something deeper remained - a twisted, complicated love that refused to be extinguished.

As the tension between you and Natasha reached its boiling point, you still knew no bounds. You pushed every button, testing Natasha's patience with reckless abandon. But there was a line, a boundary that should never be crossed, and you were about to experience the consequences of your relentless rebellion.

In the dimly lit hallway, you walked ahead of Natasha, your footsteps echoing off the polished marble floors. You ignored Natasha's warnings, your anger driving her forward with reckless abandon. But Natasha was not to be trifled with, especially when her authority was challenged.

As you passed another security guard and whispered something in his ear, Natasha grabbed the man close in one swift movement. His eyes widened in surprise and fear.

Before you could speak, Natasha spoke, her voice low and deadly calm. "Look at him, Y/N," Natasha commanded, her grip on the guard tightening. "This man is loyal to me. He would do anything I command him to do, to serve me. And you, you dare to flirt with him, to play with his loyalty?"

Your heart pounded in your chest, fear and shame coursing through your veins. Maybe you had pushed Natasha a little too far..

Natasha turned to the guard, her voice a chilling whisper. "Do you know how lucky you are to still be breathing?" she asked, boring into his eyes. The guard's throat worked as he swallowed nervously. "Yes, boss," he managed, his voice barely above a whisper.

Natasha let go of the guard, but her eyes didn't leave yours. "Remember this moment, Y/N," she said in a warning voice. "Remember who's in charge here. And remember what happens to those who dare to challenge me."

As Natasha tightened her grip on the guard, a rush of adrenaline shot through your veins, your heart pounding with fear and elation. Yet as the guard's submissive behavior unfolded before them, you expected Natasha to further establish her dominance to quell the rising tide of arousal within you. Natasha's response, however, was unexpectedly passive.

Your breath caught in your throat as you watched Natasha's calculated restraint, her eyes gleaming with cold, calculated intensity. The guard's submissive behavior only increased the tension in the air, leaving you feeling oddly exposed and vulnerable.

In that moment, as Natasha's voice echoed with a quiet threat, you felt a shiver of excitement run down your spine. But instead of fulfilling your expectations, Natasha remained distant, her expression unreadable.

With every step Natasha took toward you, you felt the pull of Natasha's dominance grow stronger, drawing you deeper into a world of dark desires and forbidden thrills. But Natasha's refusal to surrender to their shared arousal left you feeling unsteady, your longing for release colliding with your resentment toward Natasha's control.

And as Natasha walked past you, you knew you were standing on the edge of an abyss, your heart torn between the safety of the familiar and the tantalizing pull of the unknown.

Days later, you approach Natasha with a firm but polite voice. "I want to go out today." Natasha's eyes narrowed, suspicion immediately rising within her. "Going out? Where exactly?"

"Shopping," you answered, a hint of defiance in your tone. "I need new clothes, I didn't have time to pack my things."

Natasha shook her head. "No." You opened your mouth to argue, but Maria, who had been silently watching the exchange, stepped forward. "Natasha, maybe it's not such a bad idea."

Natasha gave Maria a warning look. "Excuse me?" Maria insisted. "Y/N needs to have a sense of freedom. Keeping her locked up here will only make things worse. We can make arrangements. I'll go with some of the men. It will be safe."

Natasha gritted her teeth, clearly torn between her protective instincts and Maria's reasoning. She shot you a look that hadn't faded from her defiant expression. Finally, she sighed. "Fine. But there will be conditions.”

“Of course there are,” you murmured quietly, although a spark of satisfaction shone in your eyes. “You will not walk around alone for a single second. I will be behind you at all times,” Natasha continued, her tone leaving no room for argument. “And you will always remain within sight. Understood?”

“Understood,” you agreed, your head already thinking about how you could use this trip to your advantage.

A short time later, you were ready to leave. Natasha had chosen a handful of her most trusted men to accompany her. The convoy of elegant black cars drove through the city, attracting curious glances from passersby.

When you arrived at an upscale shopping district, you wasted no time putting your plan into action. You entered the most expensive boutiques and chose one item after another with almost reckless devotion. Dresses, shoes, jewelry - nothing was forbidden to you.

Natasha lagged behind you, her expression a mask of icy self-control as her men carried the growing mountain of purchases. You took particular pleasure in handing heavy bags to Natasha, which she accepted with a stoic expression, her eyes never leaving yours.

Despite your anger and resentment, you couldn't help but feel a thrill at the sight of Natasha with her purchases. It was a small victory, a way to gain some control in a situation where you often felt powerless.

As the shopping spree continued, you decided to up your game. You had noticed the subtle tension in Natasha's demeanor and the fear in her men's eyes when she got too close. It was time to tighten the thumbscrews even more.

After hours of shopping in high-end boutiques, you led the group to a discreet, upscale lingerie store tucked away on a side street. Natasha's eyes narrowed as she read the shop sign, but she didn't object, just following you inside, her men and Maria behind her.

You browsed the shop with deliberate slowness, your fingers running over delicate lace and silk. She selected a series of slinky outfits, your expression one of concentrated contemplation as you walked to the dressing rooms.

Natasha stood at the entrance, her arms crossed and her face a mask of controlled impatience. Her men, however, looked decidedly uncomfortable, their eyes fixed firmly on the floor.

You tried on the outfits one by one, each more revealing than the last. After putting on the first set - a sheer black lace teddy - you left the dressing room and went straight to the large mirror in the middle of the shop.

You pretended to inspect the outfit, turning this way and that, making sure to give Natasha's men a look. The guards, visibly nervous, looked away, aware of the danger of looking at their boss's girl.

Maria, who was standing nearby, must have noticed your plan and had to suppress a laugh. She covered her mouth, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

You caught Maria's gaze in the mirror and grinned before looking at Natasha. The mafia boss's expression was a textbook example of barely contained anger. Her jaw was clenched and her eyes flashed with dark intensity.

"What does it look like?" you asked in a sweet and innocent voice as you turned to Natasha.

Natasha's eyes studied you, the heat in her gaze unmistakable. "You know exactly what it looks like," she replied in a low and dangerous voice.

Undeterred, you returned to the dressing room and came out a few minutes later in a barely visible red satin babydoll. You repeated the image, turning slowly in front of the mirror, making sure every angle was visible to Natasha's men, who were becoming visibly more uncomfortable by the second.

One of the guards, a young man with a nervous twitch, glanced up briefly, only to catch Natasha's murderous gaze. He quickly looked away, beads of sweat forming on his forehead.

"Maybe this one?" you wondered aloud, your eyes sparkling mischievously as she turned to Maria. "What do you think?"

Maria nodded, fighting to keep her composure. "It's... quite something," she managed, her lips twitching with suppressed laughter.

After a few more outfits - each more scandalous than the last - you decided you had made your point. You gathered your selection and walked to the counter. Natasha's men were visibly relieved to see the end of your ordeal.

Natasha approached you, her expression a mix of frustration and something darker, more primal. "Satisfied?" she asked with a low growl.

You looked up at her, feigning innocence. "Almost," you replied in a defiant tone. You led the group into a side street where a group of homeless people huddled together, their eyes tired and hopeless. Your heart softened at the sight and you felt a twinge of guilt for your previous pettiness.

With a determined look in your eyes, you began to hand out the expensive clothes and accessories to those in need, ignoring the confused expressions of Natasha and her men. The recipients accepted the gifts gratefully and incredulously, their faces beaming with joy.

Natasha watched in silence, her eyes narrowing as she tried to understand your motives. When you had almost given away the last of your purchases, you turned to Natasha, a hint of defiance still burning in her eyes.

"Money can't buy everything," you said quietly, your voice shaking with a mixture of anger and conviction. "And it certainly can't buy my forgiveness."

Natasha took a step closer, her expression unreadable. "You think that makes up for challenging me? For risking your safety?"

You lifted your chin and met Natasha's gaze directly. "I think it shows that I'm not just a pawn in your game. I'm my own person and I won't let fear control me."

For a moment, the two women stood in a tense standoff, the air filled with unspoken emotions. Then, to your surprise, Natasha's expression softened ever so slightly.

"Let's go home," Natasha said quietly, turning to lead the way back to the cars.

After you all arrived, Natasha asked you to follow her. You paused and followed her to a room where a bench stood in front of a bed.

The room was dimly lit, shadows dancing on the walls, adding to the tension in the air. "Sit down," Natasha ordered, pointing to the chair next to the bed.

You obeyed, your mind racing with a mixture of defiance and questioning. You tried to appear casual, but the intensity of Natasha's gaze made your heart beat faster. Natasha leaned forward, her eyes boring into yours. "What was all this about today?" she asked in a deceptively calm voice. "You parade around in those outfits and make my men stare at you?"

You crossed your arms and tried to keep your composure. "I wanted to have a little fun," you answered, a hint of defiance in your voice. "I wanted to show you that I'm in control now."

Natasha's eyes narrowed, a dangerous glint flickering in their depths. "Did you like it?" she asked quietly, her voice menacing.

"Did you like them watching you?" You grinned with a mischievous glint in your eyes. "Yes, I did. It felt good to turn the tables for once."

In an instant, Natasha was up from the bed and standing in front of you, her expression a mixture of anger and something darker, more primal. She grabbed your arm, pulled you up, and dragged you to the bed.

"You think you're in control?" Natasha hissed, her voice deep and threatening. "Let me show you what real control looks like."

Before you could protest, Natasha tied your limbs to the bedposts, the restraints cutting into your skin. "W-What are you doing?!" Your heart raced, a mixture of fear and excitement coursing through your veins.

Natasha stepped back, never taking her eyes off you. She clapped her hands and the door opened, revealing two women entering the room with hesitant steps.

Your eyes widened in shock and confusion as Natasha led the women to the edge of the bed. "Watch." Natasha ordered you, her voice cold and commanding.

The women sensed the gravity of the situation and began to undress each other, their movements slow and deliberate. Your breath caught, your emotions a chaotic storm of jealousy, arousal and helplessness.

Natasha leaned close to you, her breath hot in your ear. "This is control," she murmured, her voice dripping with seduction. "See how they obey? How they submit to my will?"

Your body tensed, your mind reeling. You tugged at the bonds, your need for release growing more desperate by the second. The sight of the two women pleasuring each other, their moans filling the room, was unbearable.

Natasha's hand caressed your cheek, her touch soothing and electrifying at the same time. "That could be you.." she whispered, her lips brushing your ear. "You could be the one I touch, the one I satisfy. But you have to understand your place."

Your eyes met Natasha's, your gaze defiant "No," you spat, fighting against the restraints. "I won't beg for you if that's what you want to achieve."

Natasha's smile grew wider, darker. "Oh. Detka, We'll see about that," she said quietly. She stepped back and handed one of the women a vibrator, then nodded at you. The woman approached, her eyes filled with curiosity and fear.

"Show her," Natasha ordered.

The woman turned on the vibrator and began to use it on herself, her moans growing louder as she neared climax. Your eyes widened, your own body reacting involuntarily to the display of raw, unfiltered pleasure before you. You tugged harder at the restraints, your resolve wavering.

"Do you still think you're in control?" Natasha asked, her voice as soft as velvet. "Look at her, Y/N. Look at how easily she submits."

Your breath came in short, ragged gasps. You tried to look away, but Natasha's hand grabbed your chin, forcing you to watch. The other woman joined in, their bodies writhing together, the sounds of their pleasure filling the room.

Natasha's lips touched your ear. "You want this, don't you? You want me to touch you, to make you feel this good."

You bit your lip, refusing to give in. You could feel your body shaking with desire, your core aching for release. But you wouldn't beg. You wouldn't give Natasha that satisfaction.

Natasha's hand slid down your stomach, stopping just short of where you most wanted to be touched. "All you have to do is beg," she whispered. "Beg for it, Y/N. Tell me you want it."

Your pride fought with your overwhelming desire. You clenched your fists, your nails digging into your palms as you fought to maintain your defiance. But the sight of the two women lost in ecstasy was too much. Your body betrayed you, arching towards Natasha's touch.

Natasha grinned, her fingers brushing your inner thigh. "Just say it," she purred. "Admit you need me."

Your resolve crumbled, your voice breaking as you whispered, "P-Please..."

Natasha's eyes gleamed triumphantly. "Louder," she commanded, her fingers moving closer.

"Please!" you repeated, your voice stronger now.

"Touch me, Natasha." Natasha's smile was cruel and victorious. "Good girl," she murmured and pulled her hands away. She untied your bonds and you looked at her in confusion. Then she ordered the girls to leave and looked at you again, "Good night, Y/n. See you tomorrow."

And left the room.

-

-

-

-

AAAAAHHH

🏷️ TAGLIST

@kipitou @thalia-is-not-ok @queen2234 @sgm616 @dorabledewdroop @natsxwife @natashaswife4125 @loneliestafterparty @jenniferjareauwife @maggieromanov @doveromanoff @agent99galanzo

[pastel-peach-writes]

hello!! i love your writing, so may i ask? may you write about fem!reader x caitvi with a reader that does ballet? thank you!🌷🌷💋

Sure! I'm a ballet dancer myself so I'm happy to do this request!

En Pointe | CaitVi x Reader

╰┈➤ PLOT: Headcanons of CaitVi with a ballet dancer girlfriend!

╰┈➤ WARNINGS: No Spoilers(S2), She/Her Pronouns, Not Proofread, Suggestive Themes (Second to Last Paragraph)

⍣ ೋ Enjoy!⍣ ೋ

– As someone who's also physically active, Vi makes sure you're taking care of your body after long nights of rehearsal.

– She gives you supplements that help with muscle recovery, makes you protein shakes or smoothies that help you last throughout dress rehearsals or performances, etc.

– She also will invite you to work out with her when your teachers tell you that you need to work on conditioning or stamina.

– If you're running late to practice and your hair is a mess, Caitlyn will always be there to help you with it. Whether that's putting it in a ponytail so you can put it in a bun later or flat-out doing the bun for you while you prepare snacks and waters for class.

– Furthermore, the girls love to attend your rehearsals to watch you dance or to get familiar with your dance studio/school. Sometimes they come during late-night practices with dinner or during early morning practices so they can take you out for brunch later.

– When the time comes for pointe shoe fitting, trust that Lady Caitlyn and Vi are right there at your appointment. The two of them are astonished with how pointe shoes work and never knew how much care and preparation goes into them.

–––

"What do you mean you have to sew them yourself?" Vi asked after her first fitting with you, appalled to hear that the ribbons and elastic come separately.

"Some teachers and dancers prefer different styles of ribbon, elastic, cut, and placement so to make things easier on the pointe shoe makers, the dancers sew the shoes themselves," you informed Vi but Caitlyn was nearby taking notes.

–––

– On days when you forgot a certain pair of shoes or tights, one of the girls would rush home to grab them for you. Even if they were in the middle of work.

– And on the off chance that they can't leave work to help you out, Caitlyn either finds or hires someone to purchase a new pair of shoes for you and then deliver them to your location.

– Safe to say you have many pairs of canvas ballet shoes and even contemporary/jazz shoes if you dabble in those genres too.

– Upon supporting you through your practices and giving you motivation on hard days, Caitlyn and Vi are always there at your shows and performances with flowers or a stuffed animal if you don't like flowers.

– They've told their family and friends about the show too so you have at least two rows, or one really big row, of supporters at every one of your performances.

– Caitlyn would get her family, Jayce, Mel, maybe even Viktor while Vi gets her crew (Yes, including Vander, Mylo, and Claggor), and her sister to attend. Even some of the coworkers Vi got close to attend your shows sometimes.

– After every show, they make sure to feed you. So if you're in between shows, for instance you finished a morning show but you still have an afternoon and evening performance, they would quickly get you food from a nearby restaurant if craft services wasn't provided or good.

– If you only had one show that didn't cut too late into the night, they take you to whichever restaurant you want.

– It could be a restaurant you saw on the way to the venue that you wanted to try or your favorite one back home. Either way, you're getting fed and they're happy to pay for whatever you want.

– On days when practice was an absolute ass and your body was a mess and too sore to function, Caitlyn offers to draw you a warm bath while Vi offers to draw you an ice bath.

– Sometimes they get into petty arguments about which bath is better and what you truly need at the time but usually, they come to a decision on their own.

– After your bath, warm, ice, or both, a meal would already be ready for you and the bed open for your laying.

– If you were too tired to eat, one of them would feed you in bed while the other massaged your sore muscles and applied muscle repair cream.

– If you're one to enjoy adult activities, sometimes the massaging gets carried away. Especially if you're just in your towel. But trust, it's all consensual and if you're not in the mood for such activities, the girls don't even encourage it.

– Okay, that's all! Hope you guys enjoyed <3

WC: 732

[valerie-is-in-the-cupboard]

Viktor... - Viktor x reader

Arcane Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Words: ~1100 TW: none

"Viktor!" you shouted, but the man never seemed to even consider stopping. "Viktor, wait!" Your desperation was growing stronger with every step, tears slowly blurring your vision.

Was this what he wanted? To disappear? Leaving you behind like you were nothing?

"Did I do something wrong?" your voice echoed as the man you once loved turned away, the dark cloak gracefully falling onto his new body. He wouldn't have even stopped to look at you if it wasn't for Jayce to tell you he was leaving. His body froze, his mind racing with the new sensations he felt. He slowly turned, strands of hair stuck to his forehead.

"No! I have to…" the hurt in his voice obvious. "I'm not…" he hesitated, not sure what to say next. Was he even alive? Was he even human? "I don't even know what I am anymore…"

You cautiously stepped towards him, taking in his features. He was suffering before, you knew that. He lost a lot of weight in the past years… His sickness was getting stronger, day by day, but now… Now he was standing in front of you, on his own legs. Now he was standing taller, the weakness you once saw in him gone.

Your hand pressed against his cheek, but he wasn't met with the warmth he once felt - it was something unusual. Peaceful, but not in a way he was able to understand. It was electrical, mechanical, not human-like. It was like a fire started underneath your palm, but it didn't hurt. His hand hesitantly touched yours, something that resembled a heartbeat seemingly getting stronger. Was it still his heart?

"I know what you are…" you said, the familiar brown eyes looking at you, their softness ever so unchanged.

"I killed Sky…" his voice trembled slightly, your heart skipping a beat. You were the first he ran to when this happened. The first to know everything he never let anyone know. You were the first to see him for who he really was. And now, thinking that you might be afraid of him, it made his body ache in unpleasant, strange ways. "I am murderer…" he eventually continued, his words quieter than they were in those many nights you spent together, hoping not to wake up anyone.

You just now realised the roughness of this new "skin", the coldness in it, a contrast to his gentle touches. Different from the way he used to worship you any chance he got. You were his only reason to continue fighting. His only reason to continue his research - because maybe, one day, your lives will be better. But the roughness was just on the surface... somehow, you could still feel the warmth. The kindness in his soul was as it always has been - unparalleled.

"No…" You softly said, cupping his cheeks. The touch sent a wave of energy coursing through him, not with the intensity of a shock, but with a steady, unyielding pull that reminded him of life itself. It felt like a promise, something soft yet grounding, pulling him back from the edge of despair. “You’re my Viktor…” The words hung in the air between you, their weight settling in the space around you both. Viktor didn’t move at first.

His eyes stayed locked on yours, searching for any trace of doubt, any sign that you might be lying. For a long moment, neither of you spoke. His breath came slower, almost as if he was afraid to exhale, fearful that the fragile connection you had could shatter with a single movement.

Viktor’s forehead found its peace against yours, just as it always did. But this time, there was a tremble in his touch, a hesitant pause before his lips parted to speak again. The gentle pulse of your shared breath seemed to reverberate through your bodies, and for a moment, the world outside of this fragile moment disappeared. You could feel the echo of his heartbeat, faint and distant, but still there, somehow keeping him tethered to you. "And nothing could make me not want to follow you until the end of the time…"

A small smile crept on his face, your words seemingly reassuring him, even if just a little, that maybe he was not as inhuman as he thought he was. "I can't ask you to follow me…" he told you, knowing that it would perhaps mean the end of your life. Knowing that it might bring you more pain than his disappearance would have.

"Of course you don't…" you chuckled. "But I will anyway. I always did as I pleased, right?" the sound of his soft laugh made your heart jump, your ears enlightened as you heard it.

His fingers intertwined with yours, the whole world becoming silent, almost nonexistent. In the stillness of the moment, this touch was a silent understanding, a bond that spoke louder than words ever could. Your souls were connected once again, just as they were always meant to be. Fighting to find each other, fighting to find peace once again and now… fulfilled that they were finally reunited.

"It's not gonna be easy…" he warned, pressing a light kiss on your temple before he moved away, the coldness of his absence making you shiver.

"It's never been… But we managed…"

He smiled and all of the stimulus he felt stopped. Something similar to peace conquered his form now. Something stronger than whatever the Hexcore was doing to him.

You pressed his hand against your chest, the vibrations of your heartbeat resonating through him. You could see his mouth slightly opening in fascination at the intensity of his senses.

"Can you feel it?" you asked. "Can you feel it beating under your touch?"

Viktor’s fingers tightened around your wrist, as if afraid to let go. For a moment, he said nothing. His chest rose and fell in uneven breaths, a mix of disbelief and awe flickering in his expression.

"I can't promise you I'm the same..." he whispered, his voice trembling as if uncertain whether this was real.

Your heart was pounding in your chest, a powerful pain overcoming it at his words. "Whatever IT'll happen, I will face it with you. I know I want this, just please... Please don't push me away." He caressed your cheek, a weak smile on his face as he saw the determination in your eyes. The world became still. It was peaceful now. The past was a distant memory. The future - uncertain.

But the present felt just right.

[gay-dorito-dust]

I see him in the back of my mind, all the time.

This fic came to me in a dream, woke up crying.

You couldn’t help but feel abandoned, left behind to deal with the onslaught of emotions all by yourself as your eyes remained firmly on where Viktor once was before the arcane consumed him whole.

The war was over but the hollow feeling within your chest only grew stronger when seeing loved ones reunite in fits of hysterical tears and bone crushing embraces, the lump in your throat got worse as the ache in your heart had something missing, someone missing that made it beat faster than normal. There was nothing Viktor left behind of his existence besides from his cane that you kept tightly clutched within your hand, mimicking the way he’d love tap the ground with it, as though you were trying to prove to no one in particular who cared that he still exists.

Silent tears seemed to flow endlessly down your cheeks as you wandered through the hallways of the Academy, and yet you felt numb, cold like you were already long dead and didn’t know it just yet as even your fingers felt cold to the touch, but you didn’t know whether that was from the biting cold wind or something else entirely. You didn’t care either as your reason for caring and for loving every aspect of life was taken away from you, taking your beating heart with him as he did and you didn’t know whether to hate him or love him even harder for giving you the best moments of your life, memories that seemed to all play out before you as you entered the now empty laboratory.

You could still hear the laughter and the scolding echo as though the walls with complex equations scrawled upon them had harboured the essence of the people who once worked diligently to the point of physical exhaustion. Your throat clenched again you delved deeper into the lab with one place in mind like you were being pulled towards it by an unseen force; Viktor’s workbench that had now upon closer inspection had a fine layer of dust settling over it, something he would’ve never let happen despite the tendency to leave his things scattered everywhere he pleased but still become cutely annoyed when he couldn’t find them.

However there seemed to be one thing that the dust refused to touch, a broach. Your brows furrowed as you looked at it confused, what was a broach doing in a place like this? It looked like it was made a while back but yet had a polish to it that made it seemed like it was made only recently. You knew Viktor didn’t wear broaches so seeing such an item on his workbench specifically was leaving you more questions then answers, questions that were soon answered when you noticed a small note underneath it, scrawled with Viktor’s usual chicken scratch writing;

‘For my dearest muse, for I will always be with you, always - Viktor.’

You clutched the cane tighter now as the pain within your chest almost made you collapse on the floor. This broach was for you. Viktor made it for you and never had the chance to give it to you, or perhaps he was waiting for the right moment to do so, but fate decided to be cruel and change the trajectory of your life for the worst; the common con when you happened to fall in love with a scientist determined to make a change. You sighed unevenly as you reach for the broach, your fingers closing over the cold metal of it while gingerly lifting it off the workbench, holding it up to your face so that you could take in the details of Viktor’s most beautiful creation.

The broach had a decent weight to it, not too light where you could easily crush it within your hand, but not too hard where it was proven difficult in your hand for prolonged periods of time. It was beautifully done as on the front of the broach was a an intricate design of a mechanical Blue Jay bird. You ran your thumb across the bird to feel the engravings that made it beneath your finger tips. The bird began to glow a vibrant blue, making you jolt a little, and the broach opened up to show it’s insides to you as a soft melody began to play from some hidden component within the broach.

The moment the first notes of the soft melody hits your ears the tears that had stilled in you moment of curiosity began to fall once more, this was the song that you had told Viktor once upon a time ago was your favourite, and so for him to make you this broach with your favourite bird on the front and your beloved song on the inside, you’ve never felt more loved by a man such as him. Yet you couldn’t run to him and kiss him senseless, not anymore, which made the broach itself a reminder that even if he was long gone you were the last thing on his mind.

‘Oh Viktor.’ Your voice came out weak as a sob broke from your lips as memories resurfaced as the melody continued its tune just for you.

…

‘Viktor!’ You burst in the lab, making him jolt as he looked over at you with what he wanted to be conveyed as annoyance but came across as a cute pout in your eyes.

‘My dear how often must I tell you not to burst in here so abruptly and without warning, what if something went wrong and you had gotten hurt.’ Viktor scolds as you merely shrug and moved over to his side to look over his shoulder, trying to see what he was working on, only for him to move it slightly away from your line of sight.

‘We’re both alive aren’t we?’ You said sarcastically and Viktor sighs as a small smile graced his lips as his amber eyes looked back at you with the warmth you always use to being greeted with. ‘You truly fear nothing my love but the next time you pull sometime like that you’re banned from entering the lab for the rest of the week.’ He says warningly as he points his wielding tool at you to emphasise his point.

You leaned over to kiss his forehead. ‘Duly noted my love but can I see what you’re working on? Or is it a secret for me to find later?’ You then ask as you once again tried to see what he was making, and once again Viktor move it away from your curious eyes, making you pout once more as you looked at him pleadingly.

Viktor sighs, your curiosity was never ending and while he would indulge you on his creations, he couldn’t do so for this one. This broach was his most ambitious project thus far and it was a project he has dedicated to you a long time ago the moment you both sat at the docks, hearing a harmonious melody within the wind as you admitted that it was your favourite.

It was that moment where Viktor decided to make something that you could keep on your being forever and thus project blue jay broach was underway. He was halfway done with it, all he had to do was finished wielding some components on the inside that would play the melody the moment the broach was opened, then he would move onto engraving the blue jay on the front as a final touch to a months long work in progress. ‘Practice your patience and you shall find out what it is soon enough my muse.’ He says softly as he kisses the back of your hand.

‘Alright keeps your secrets, I’ll find out sooner or later.’ You said as you crossed your arms over your chest.

Viktor raised a playful brow. ‘Is that a threat or a promise my muse?’ He asks.

You shrugged your shoulders. ‘Why not both.’ You said and Viktor laughs which makes you smile in response, feeling your chest warm as you looked at him, vowing to treasure this beautiful man for the rest of your life.

…

‘I know it’s not much but I wanted to make you something…I know it’s not the best but-‘

‘I love it my muse.’ Viktor starts as he takes the gift off of your hand, cradling it within his own as he looked over the amateur wielding and more so at the love and effort you’ve put into making this just for him.

You looked between him and the bird that you’ve made for him on a whim one day, wanting to repay him for loving you as he did in a way he’d recognise, even if you weren’t familiar with it you’d give it a try just to see him smile that gorgeous smile of his that made his amber eyes seem to brighten.

‘Really? You mean that?’ You asked and Viktor brushed his hand against your arm softly, stopping to hold your hand and squeeze it reassuringly.

‘Unequivocally my love. It possess a uniqueness that is undoubtedly yours and yours alone.’ He replies while pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

‘That’s a poetic way of saying that it’s made by an amateur who can barely wield shit without almost hurting themselves.’ You muttered under your breath as you rested your head against his shoulder. Viktor chuckles as he puts aside the mechanical bird on his workbench in order to hold you against him as he rests his head atop of yours.

‘If it’s any consolation it’s a well made creation for an amateur wielder.’ He says, smiling to himself when he hears you muffled groan. He wishes to stay like this forever if he could, just have you in his arms for all of eternity until that eternity fades to nothing, and it was just you two locked in the moment in the blanket of never ending darkness.

‘I hate you.’ You say.

‘I love you too my muse.’ Viktor replies as he presses a kiss to the side of your head.

…

‘Viktor?’ You asked.

‘Yes my love?’ He replies, looking at you.

‘Do you think we’re together in every universe?’ You then looked at him, finding him more beautiful than any star that hung in the sky before you.

Viktor makes a face full of thought before letting his hand find yours, squeezing it as he presses a kiss to the back of it. ‘Of course my love, for what would I be without you to be my muse, my confidant and my anchor.’ His face then becomes one of seriousness as he leans so that his forehead touches yours. ‘Do you believe that we’re together in every universe?’

‘Without a doubt.’ You answered back, kissing his lips. ‘I don’t think I could live in a reality where you don’t exist my beautiful Viktor.’ You add as you started deeply into his amber eyes, watching them soften in relief as Viktor reciprocated your kiss with one of his own.

‘What a coincidence I was thinking the exact same thing my muse.’ Viktor whispers softly to you as he kisses you once more. You held the back of his head to keep him close as the stars watched you both display your love for one another in the most innocent way possible.

…

Mel wondered down the hallway but as she was about to pass the lab, she heard the soft melody coming from it and stopped to peek through the open doorway. Sat fast asleep on Viktor’s chair, body splayed uncomfortably across his dust covered workbench, was you and she couldn’t help but smile sympathetically for you, after all you had just lost the love of your life before your very eyes and with no plausible way of getting him back.

What was making the melody Mel did find as her eyes landed on the open broach within your hand, Viktor’s final gift to you as it hummed the melody for the fifth time. It was a beautiful song Mel thought to herself as she moved next to you, resting her hand over your shoulder as she heard you softly mutter in your sleep. ‘I’m sorry Viktor. I love you.’

‘I know he loves you too.’ Mel replied as she reached over and closed the broach in your hand, seeing the mechanical engraving on the cover as she did so before pressing a kiss to the top of your head, wanting nothing more then let you sleep and be with Viktor in the land of dreams as she moved to walk back out the door. Mel looks back at you once more and in a moment of nostalgia overcame her she saw Viktor sleeping in that very chair instead of you. He was clutching his cane the same way you did and in that moment it looked as though your hands were touching; together intertwined in the smallest of things.

Viktor would always be with you, always.

[vampiristar]

Viktor knew all along he was about to die in episode 6 because that’s what he needed to become the perfect being.

Let me explain:

In the beginning of the episode, Sky informed us that Viktor himself said « all systems have limits. ». Later, we have Singed who told Viktor is getting weaker: he cannot save everyone and he needed to survive. Viktor knew it already, he knew his arcane/hextech evolution is not perfect yet.

But strangely, Viktor answered to both of them that Vander deserved the risk.

Vander was an exceptional human and leader for Zaun. Even with his transformation, a part of him remained intact, thanks to the beautiful connections and memories he had with his loved ones—Jinx, Vi, Silco, Vi and Jinx’s parents.

Viktor was so touched by Vander’s beautiful soul that he wanted to give emotions and humanity a chance again.

Viktor genuinely wanted to save Vander and he became so absorbed in this goal that he forgot about Jayce’s arrival, which explains why none of the people in his sect tried to stop Jayce.

When he had seen Jayce, Viktor was not surprised. He knew what was coming because he told him himself to visit him in the beginning of the episode.

Even though he couldn’t save Vander as he had hoped, Viktor didn’t lose. Because with Jayce killing him, Viktor realised the true purpose of everything he had set into motion.

Viktor had his confirmation: losing his power and his death was the true limits in his arcane/hextech form. He couldn’t reach for more again with it and have a real impact on human life. He also solidified his belief while witnessing raw, unfiltered human emotions in each persons in the camp—grief, anger, despair, and love:

Emotions were a burden, chaining humans to their suffering and flaws.

So, yes. Viktor allowed Jayce to kill him, knowing that his “death” would pave the way for his ultimate rebirth—a new, perfected form of existence, free of the flaws he had come to realise. This was never his defeat; it was his final step toward his final glorious evolution.

[duncanor]

WHY IT HAD TO BE EKKO

Don't you wonder why he's ultimately the one who defeat The Machine Herald? They never even met, why out of everyone was it him? Why was he sent to this beautiful timeline while Jayce was sent to Dante's inferno ?

It's because Jayce and Viktor are the perfect opposite of Powder and Ekko. All of them were scientists who shared a dream of helping their people. However, while Jayce and Viktor did everything they could to realize their dream together, going as far as to brave Nature, Death and Fate, Ekko and Powder couldn't bear losing themselves and sacrificing others for their own happiness.

Ekko was sent to a world where he got everything he ever wanted. His loved ones were (mostly) all alive and well, the cities were united, he not only got his childhood friend back but had the chance to learn who she could've become without tragedy plaguing her. He even fell in love with her and had the possibility to start a life anew, here, together. And despite this, he never considered staying. Doing so would've meant sacrificing his reality and he couldn't bear it. So he let her and the dream go, and broke the cycle.

But Jayce and Viktor? They've always been incapable of letting go of each others. They first defied nature, re-creating the inate with Hextech. Then they braved Death with Viktor's resurection. Finally, they fabricated fate, Viktor making sure they always meet. The Machine Herald vowed to end the cycles that plagued humanity, but ultimatly, he as the mage was the one purposefully setting them in motion. Because he couldn't bear a reality where he's alone and doesn't have his partner by his side.

It's egoism vs altruism at its core.

It's also why Viktor and Jayce leave together while Ekko stays alone. It's the price of the sacrifice of self for others vs the sacrifice of others for themselves.

Ekko (and Jinx) was the only one willing to break the cycle. It had to be him.