#Viktor Angst

[lokidjarin-7567]

The Prophecy

Viktor x Reader When the friend of your youth, Viktor, sees you still living in the Undercity, and working in a strip club at that, he is determined to reconnect, and rekindle a childhood friendship that was rooted in something more. fem!reader, fluff, angst and smut all in one folks, 18+ MDNI, a few physical features described but still reader insert I think, both Viktor and you POVs, long-ass one shot 8.1k words Taglist: @night-fall-moon @zsuzsu321 @sh1zhu @circeinspace @casualjagodek @retrokatz @am-3-thyst @xlittlemissydjx @sseleniaa Hi guys, thanks for bearing with my while I've been working on this one!! I have been absolutely obsessed with this man ever since I finished Arcane, so I just had to write something about him! I also think a lot of people mischaracterise him, so I tried really hard to get his personality right - let me know if I actually have lol. Anyone who knows my works knows how slutty my smut can get lol, but this is actually quite tender so a new one for me too. Anyway, I'll stop waffling now, I hope you enjoy. TTPD Contents | General Masterlist | AO3

Viktor was lost in thought as he made his way back to Piltover, small tube of Shimmer tucked away in his satchel. He didn’t know what to do. Using it might stabilise the Hexcore, allowing it to keep the plants alive and accomplish everything he and Jayce had been working towards for years, maybe even curing this sickness that had taken over him, or…

Or it could end horribly.

The undercity was as dark and unpleasant as he remembered it. He had never fit in here in his youth - too scrawny, too bookish, and with his leg, he stood no chance. And now was no different.

The neon store signs stood out against the blackened buildings and muddy streets. This part of the city, deep in the underbelly of Zaun, seemed busier than the rest, roads bustling with call girls and salesmen and tourists from Topside taking their pick of unruly establishments. Hundreds of voices layered atop each other in a cacophony of harsh laughter, garish music and argumentative tones. There was barely space to walk, especially with his cane, and he was starting to wonder if this journey was even worth it.

Then something caught his eye. A flash of red, deep and vibrant, moving towards him on the far side of the lane. It was hair, bouncy and curly and his subconscious told him it was shorter than it should’ve been, but it was a colour he knew. Her face wasn’t one he could place at first, but as she got closer, he saw the freckles that smattered across her nose like a constellation, the full, pink lips that were perpetually curled into a soft frown, the blue-grey of her eyes that she always accentuated with brown liner. It was her.

The only friend of his youth. A young girl who used to sit behind the foliage near the water where he tested his inventions. She was shy, even shyer than he used to be, too scared to ask him anything about what he was making for a long time, just watching with curious eyes. But he would never forget the day she moved closer. The way her long, burgundy curls flowed around her, almost touching the floor, the way she was trying her best to be confident, but there was a soft shake in her hand, and a slight stutter as she said hello. Then she produced a small invention of her own - a submarine, the same colour as her hair, designed to float perfectly so the periscope was the only thing that peeked out from the surface.

For years, they were inseparable. She was more artistic than him, always adding a flair to her designs that he didn’t have, so he’d let her ‘improve’ his too. They would play together, and then as they got older, build together, each creation more daring and experimental. And then they started to drift apart. They were in their mid teens when her mother got sick, and she couldn’t make it out as much. Viktor always offered to help, but she refused, not even allowing him to see where she lived. And so, when Professor Heimerdinger found him and offered him an opportunity to be his assistant, he couldn’t even tell her. He left a note, delicately placed under a rock where they would build together, telling her where to find him and how to get in touch, but he never heard anything.

And now here she was. He called out her name softly, not wanting to alarm her in this hostile city, but she didn’t hear. She’d walked past him now, so he turned, following but she was walking fast, faster than he could manage. He called out again, but it wasn’t until then that he noticed the headphones over her ears. She couldn’t hear a thing. He carried on, hoping she would stop but she didn’t. If it was anyone else, he would’ve gone home, given up, but now he’d caught a glimpse of her, he had to see her. To talk to her. To find out why she never got in touch. To apologise for leaving her behind.

She disappeared from view for a moment, and he panicked, thinking he’d lost her again, but he caught a movement out of the corner of his eye, entering an alley beside a row of bars and clubs. He grimaced, following her to see the red locks just moving out of sight again, and a bouncer closing the door behind her. He tried to follow her into the building, but the man stopped him.

“Please…” he asked, out of breath, “it’s an old friend, I need to see her…”

“Staff entrance only, pal. You’ll have to go ‘round the front like everyone else.”

“But… she’s right there… I only need one moment, if she just saw me…” The words died on his lips. Would she even recognise you?

“Don’t make me ask you twice.”

It was dark inside the club, the lights low apart from on the stage and around the bar. It was only mid afternoon, but the place was near full of lowlifes just starting their evenings, sloshing their drinks and talking loudly. The neon from outside carried into this space too, strip lights around the platforms accentuating their presence. There were dancers atop each of them, but he averted his eyes. He shouldn’t have come here. This was so far from his comfort zone, loud and unruly, a long way away from his lab, but he had to see her. He couldn’t let her go again.

He found a stool by the bar, ordering a soda and waiting for her to start her shift. There was no way he could miss her again if he was right here when she started.

And then he saw her at the very edge of his vision, as though his eyes were programmed to search her out in any crowd. She was on stage, cherry red hair glowing in the soft lights, combined with the neon from below making her look like a ghost, ethereal. What was she doing up there?

***

“Afternoon, Joey.” You muttered to the bouncer, and he opened the door for you wordlessly as you slipped off your headphones, replacing your perfectly selected playlist with the sleazy music of the club. Just one of the many reasons you hated working here. You were running late, as per, throwing your things in your locker and quickly changing. Lacing up your shoes always took the longest time, and you barely even had a chance to check yourself in the mirror when you were finished. Your hair looked perfect at least, the naturally burgundy curls sitting at shoulder length. You missed the long hair of your youth, but it become impractical very quickly, and the memories it held… you ended up cutting it all off soon after your mum died. That was when you started working here too. You’d had dreams, of course you did, but growing up in the Undercity made it almost impossible to follow them. There were worse places to work though - for the most part, the patrons were respectful, and everyone who you worked with was kind, but it was still a strip club. At the end of the day, no little girl wanted to be an exotic dancer when they grew up. At least it just about paid the bills.

You had been put on a long shift today - late afternoon until the early hours. You didn’t mind though; it was exhausting, but more time meant more tips. And you needed the money. You were saving, slowly but surely. One day, it would be enough.

These shifts always started slow. Not many tips this early in the day. Not enough drunks - they were all too willing to part with their money, an exploit you knew how to use. After a while on stage, it was your turn to make your way into the crowd. You started away from the bar, smiling at a few, a couple of words of flirtation thrown around, but no one was loose enough for anything else yet. There was something different about the energy today though. You felt… exposed, on display, more than usual. Self conscious in a way you hadn’t been since your first week. By the time you got to the bar, you were already feeling frustrated at the lack of interest. But your favourite coworker was pouring the drinks tonight, and she had one ready for you already.

“Thanks, Katie” You crooned, knocking back the shot quickly and she immediately offered to refill - something you gratefully accepted.

“Thought you might need it. Slow start?”

“Yeah, not the best day so far.” You took your second, thanking her again, when you heard a voice call out your name. Your real name. It made you start, whipping your head around to find the source. You didn’t use that name here. You were expecting to see an ex, or an old boss, but instead you were met with a face you hadn’t seen in years.

His eyes hadn’t changed. Kind but tired, amber in colour and glowing like whiskey in sunlight. The curve of his nose was the same, the curl of his lips, the small moles like points on a map - one beneath his right eye and the other to the left of his lip. There was a cane tucked beside his stool, and he was dressed well. Too well to be in this part of town. A uniform of some sort, something a Topsider would wear: blue shirt accented with a cream ascot and waistcoat. It suited him.

As soon as you saw him, every fond memory of your childhood rushed back to you like a river. The gentleness when he explained his creations to you. His willingness when you asked if you could paint them pretty colours, or add cute designs. The way he held you as you cried about your mum falling ill. How quickly he offered you support, and how quickly you turned him down. You didn’t want to be a burden, but you regretted that choice as soon as he stopped showing up to your usual spot. You kept going for months before you gave up, still trying to find him. The last time you visited was to scatter your mum’s ashes - your stories of Viktor’s designs and the beautiful creek where you tested them out together being one of the last things that brought her comfort.

And now, he was here.

He’d made it out. He’d made it Topside. And you’d only fallen further down.

If there was one person you never wanted to see you like this, it was him. He was the only slither of your youth and innocence left, the only soul in the whole of Runeterra who knew the true version of yourself, the first version of yourself. The version you actually liked. And now, he had to see this. You couldn’t tell what you were feeling. Every emotion was vying for attention: joy, nostalgia, anger, envy…

He repeated your name in a questioning tone, and you realised you’d been staring at him, the rollercoaster of emotions you just went on likely visible on your face.

“Do you know him, darling? Or shall I grab Joe?” Katie asked from behind the bar, staring him down with a protective look. Viktor opened his mouth to speak, indignant look on his face, but you answered for him, never once being able to tear your eyes from him.

“Yeah I… cover for me? If anyone asks, he got a dance.”

“Of course.” Viktor’s gaze had returned you, confused, and you just muttered a ‘come on’, signalling him to follow you, and you lead him across the floor to one of the private rooms. They weren’t exactly the nicest places to talk, the whole room painted a hideous deep purple, a weirdly-shaped black velvet sofa the only thing to sit on. As soon as you closed the door, turning around to see the soft look on his face, every drop of anger seeped from you, replaced with relief. Relief that he was alive. Relief that he had done something with his life. Relief that you hadn’t lost him forever.

You couldn’t help it but let the tears fall as you threw yourself at him, wrapping your arms around him tight.

***

He was surprised by her warm welcome. After all these years, he had always imagined she would resent him, but here she was, face pressed to his chest as she hugged him, tears falling onto his shirt. He didn’t even have to think about it, his own arms naturally surrounding her as she cried, keeping her close. He never wanted to let her go again.

She eventually pulled away though, wiping her tears with the shy smile he remembered so well.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to.. on your fancy Topside shirt too.” She laughed nervously, tucking her hair behind her ears. “I… um, I imagined bumping into you one day, finding you again, but I never thought I would be dressed like this.” He finally let himself glance down at her when he said that, to take her in completely, safe in the knowledge that she wasn’t meeting his eyes. She looked beautiful - a black two-price set, solid silk on the areas that counted, but the frills and accents were a sheer lace, stockings too, glittering beads woven into the delicate material. Even if the environment didn’t suit her, somehow the clothes still did, the same style he’d seen her develop in her teenage years. Simple in colour, beautiful in design - the cunning of her inventor’s mind applied to her other passion.

“What are you doing here, Viktor?” She sat down on the awkward sofa, curling her legs up onto it, and he followed suit, resting his cane against the arm.

“I could ask you the same thing.” It fell from his lips before he could stop it, and he winced, expecting her to be offended, but she just smiled sadly.

“You got out.” She stated, ignoring his quip, and he nodded. He could explain, he should, but not yet.

“And you never wrote me.” He responded.

“Write you? Viktor, I didn’t know where you were.” She never got your letter.

“I left you a note by the creek. You never got it?” She shook her head. “I’m so sorry. I should’ve found you somehow, or…”

“It’s ok, Vik.” She shuffled closer on the loveseat, grabbing his hand and squeezing tight. Hearing the name she used to call him sent a pang of pain to his heart. This is what he had been missing out on all these years, all because of a stupid letter. “If I was in your shoes, I’d have done the same. Besides, I never let you see where I lived, or anything else about me. And when mum… I fell off the face of the earth. I wouldn’t have let you in no matter how hard you tried.”

“I’m still sorry.”

“I know.”

***

You spent a long time asking about his life now. He was working in the academy, partners with Piltover’s favourite researcher, helping to create the HexTech that kept the whole city afloat… he had changed the fucking world. And you were… here. Still.

He said your name softly, as though trying to broach a subject carefully and you knew what was coming. You had seen the query floating in his eyes since the moment he saw you.

“What are you doing working here? I mean, you’re brilliant, more so than me, and yet…”

“I’m still stuck in the lanes?” You sighed.

“Well, yes.” You’d never once thought of him as ignorant. Maybe he’d been living Topside for too long.

“I never got my break. You deserved what you got, of course you did, and you’re the smartest person I know, Viktor, but that doesn’t change the fact that you got lucky. And it’s not the same here as when we were kids. Sure, things weren’t great then, but now… There are no jobs, no money, housing is insanely competitive even though most of it is disgusting.. it’s a vicious cycle meant to keep you in the shitter. This is what I could get. It pays my bills and lets me save a little, the other girls are nice, it’s close to my apartment…”

“But…” You knew from the look on his face what he was going to say - a long speech about how much potential you have, and how much better you could have it. You dropped his hand.

“But what?” You couldn’t help but snap, defensive over the very job that you cursed daily. “But I’m better than selling myself to sleazy drunks? You think I don’t fucking know that? You think I want to be losing my sense of self every day just so I can keep the lights on? You think it’s my dream to feel like I’m a lesser human being because I will let someone pay me to take them into this room and…” You stood up then, starting to pace as silent tears fell. You never let yourself think about any part of your life longer than you had to. Not pondering on it was the only thing keeping you alive.

“You know I wasn’t saying that…”

“I know I’m sorry… I just…”

“I know… I know…” He stood up then too, wrapping you in his arms and letting you cry. Again. You felt so stupid. “I missed you.” He whispered, face nestled into your hair, barely audible.

“I missed you too.” The tender moment didn’t last for long though, as a sharp knock on the door startled you, jumping away from him and wiping your eyes.

“Vikki?” Joey’s voice called out, and you breathed a sigh of relief. “You ok in there?” You put on your smiley voice, cooing back to him.

“Yeah, all good Joe, got a paying customer in here...”

“You got it, doll.” You heard him walk away, and turned back to see Viktor looking at you, head cocked, small smirk playing across his features.

“What?” You asked with a shy smile, wiping away the last of your tears.

“Vikki?” Oh.

“Well I couldn’t exactly use my real name.” He laughed at that, and you couldn’t help but giggle too. “That does mean we’ve been in here too long though, I should…”

“Yeah, no of course…” he moved to open the door, grabbing his cane, but you stopped him quickly, pressing your hand against the door frame.

“One second…” He frowned as you reached towards him, but he didn’t move, just watched curiously as you took your time unknotting his ascot. Once it was off, you unbuttoned a few of his buttons, trying to ruffle his shirt a little, make it look like you had actually been doing your job rather than talking to an old friend. “There…” you muttered quietly, realising he’d shuffled a little closer to you as you worked, and now his lips were only a breath away. He was looking at you so intently, as though there was something he wanted to say, but he never spoke, just gazed at you in a way that made your heart swell. Your hands lingered on his chest, comforted by the warmth and solidness of him. A reassurance that he was real and here. You didn’t want to move.

“Please, don’t go anywhere just yet…” you muttered, the words tumbling from your lips before you could stop them.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

***

She had been backstage for a while now, muttering something about trying to move her shifts around. She came back beaming, and it was infectious, a smile he was trying to fight taking over his own face just at the sight of her.

“Ok, if you’re busy tonight, or you have plans, you can tell me to piss off…”

“Never.” She blushed in response, her wide smile spreading further as she spoke, and he was helplessly drawn to her, eyes scanning her face intently.

“Well, someone came in early for their shift, but someone else is running late… anyway, our schedule is a mess, but good news is I only have to stay for another hour and then I’m free so… I was thinking, maybe you’d want to grab some food and catch up? Unless you have somewhere else to be…” She still sounded so shy, so unsure - the same habit she had when she was young, babbling when she was nervous. He was finding it hard to connect the dots in his mind: the timid person before him now, the girl he used to know, and the dancer on that stage, full of bravado and confidence.

“That sounds wonderful.” The joy in her face was intoxicating, and he watched as relief visibly washed over her body.

“Ok, brilliant.” She spun away for just a moment, trying to track down the bartender she seemed to know well. “Katie, he’s with me, ok? Send him back in like an hour, and his drinks are on my tab.” He tried to protest, but she rested a hand on his shoulder, quickly silencing him. “I insist. It’s the least I can do, considering how long you have to wait around.” Again, he tried to tell her didn’t mind, that he’d wait as long as she needed, anything for her, but she was gone already, slipping into the crowd. He sighed, turning back towards the bar on his stool, taking another sip of his soda.

“That’s our Vikki…” Katie mused, slicing a few garnishes behind the bar. “Never accepting that somebody else would want to do something for her.” He let out a dry laugh, half at the name, half in agreement.

“That sounds like her.” A beat of silence passed between them. The club was starting to fill up, but it wasn’t too rowdy yet, and nobody else was at the bar, all relying on bottle service and shot girls instead.

“Drink?” He shook his head politely. “How do you know her?” Katie asked, staying busy but obviously trying to snoop. He didn’t mind. She was a topic he didn’t mind talking about.

“Childhood friend. I haven’t seen her in… a very long time.” Her eyebrow shot up at that.

“What was your name, by the way?”

“Viktor.” A look of surprise flitted across her face.

“Ohh.” She drawled knowingly, smiling at herself as she continued to wedge limes.

“What?”

“I’ve heard of you, that’s all. Her childhood love who disappeared on her while her mother was dying…”

“You don’t know the whole story…” He snapped back quickly. He might hate himself for what happened, but he felt the need to defend his choices. It had turned out well for him, he just wished he could’ve found her. Taken her with him. Their life could’ve been so different. Katie chuckled, continuing her tasks.

“Oh trust me, I do. She’s very quick to defend you, you know. You can do no wrong in her eyes…”

“Not so sure about that…” As he muttered to himself, something she’d said suddenly hit him. Her childhood love…“Actually, on second thought, I will grab a drink please, whatever she usually has. But don’t put it on her tab…”

“I wasn’t planning on it, Topsider.” She saluted mockingly with a smile.

Two down and that was all he was having, just needing something to take the edge off after Katie’s admission. All those years wasted, because you thought childhood love was stupid and pointless. And now, seeing her again, you still love her as much as you did back then…

Katie was on her break, so he twisted in his seat, trying to find her in the crowd. She had never been difficult for him to spot, everything about her so familiar to him, and this time, she was centre stage, which made it even easier. Every part of him was screaming to turn away, to not taint his view of her, but he was instantly transfixed. She danced so fluidly, so gracefully. Every movement she made was purposeful and poised. However much she hated her job, she took pride in it. He was a scientist, sure, but she was a creator, through and through.

***

You were finally finished, and you were exhausted. Even though it wasn’t even half a usual shift, seeing Viktor, all the memories it brought back, it had been so emotionally draining.

You were grateful that the changing area was empty. It wasn’t the usual shift time, and no one ever came here on their break, so at least Viktor wouldn’t have to deal with that. You almost laughed at the thought.

There was a gentle knock, and his voice sent a flutter straight to your heart.

“Vikki?” He called out mockingly, and you laughed at the way he’d latched on to your new name. It was inspired by him, after all. “Are you decent?”

“Yes, you can come in.” You were looking good, if you said so yourself. The fashion and the opportunity you were afforded to express yourself in that way was one of the few things you did like about this place. You’d tried to incorporate the shapes and designs of your ‘work attire’ into a more lanes-friendly outfit, layering a black organza shirt over the lacy bodice, beading shining through the sheer fabric, pairing it with a bubble skirt and knee high boots, just the right height to allow your stockings to peek from the top. There was only one item that wasn’t black; his neckerchief that you had taken earlier was now around your own collar, tied in a dainty bow. He grinned as soon as he laid his eyes on it, striding towards you and gently holding the hemmed edge between his fingers.

“I guess I’m not getting this back, huh.”

“Never.” He shrugged.

“I’m ok with that.” God, the way he looked at you. It made you melt without fail, warm flush spreading across your cheeks.

“Are you ready to go?” You muttered, eyes still glued to his, honey tones making you feel as though you were stuck in them. A fly trapped in amber, resigned to its fate.

“I’m ready when you are.”

You’d decided you were going to cook for him tonight instead of taking him out. The places near you either weren’t nice enough, or they knew you for the wrong reasons. Besides, you wanted to show him your place. To show him that, even though you were still here, you had done everything you could to make the best of it, to continue learning and inventing and developing yourself.

That did mean you had to stop by the store, though. Which meant bumping into Angel. He and Viktor would not get on.

You had grabbed Viktor’s arm as soon as you left the club, a habit from the times Joey had walked you home, knowing that you were safer beside a man than by yourself. Even though the Undercity was bustling tonight, there was something so soothing about being here with him. A nostalgia warming you from the inside out. He let you guide him into the shop below your apartment, chatting absentmindedly about nothing and everything, when a smooth voice stopped yoou in your tracks.

“Not so fast, Vikki…” You groaned, turning back the few steps you had made into the entrance.

“Hey Angel.” You cooed, although it felt wrong falling into your usual flirtatious routine when Viktor was right behind you. He was working behind the counter today, thumbing through the till. His long dreadlocks were down, grey peeking through his beard, wide grin as his eyes traced over you, following your arm to where it joined the man next to you.

“Is that a nickname, or…” Viktor muttered, and you couldn’t help but laugh as you responded.

“No, Vik, this is my landlord Angel…”

“Landlord, huh? Thought I was more than that, sugar…” He leaned across the counter, shit-eating smile on his face, clearing noticing and enjoying the fact he was winding up your new companion. Viktor scowled, moving a step closer to you.

“Yeah, yeah, keep dreaming, old man…” You sent him a wink, and he laughed, the booming noise of it always making you smile. “What have you got in that’s fresh? I’m actually cooking tonight…”

You chatted a little longer, grabbing what Angel recommended and some wine, before heading upstairs via the back of the shop. Viktor was still scowling slightly as you were unlocking your door, and you laughed lightly, nudging him with the bag of shopping.

“What?” He huffed.

“I don’t like that guy.” He grumbled, feeling smug that you had called it.

“He’s my landlord, Vik, and a friend. He’s a good guy, don’t worry.” He just shrugged as you finally got the door open, and you thanked the stars that you had remembered to tidy last night, or else it would be a complete tip. There were still remnants from your busy morning scattered all around the studio: scrap pieces of fabric and thread strewn across the kitchen table, the half-finished neglige you were constructing laid over the back of one of the chairs, the cogs and pieces of machinery lie abandoned next to your sewing machine in the wake of the modifications you were trying to make so it could handle more delicate material. The space itself was dark in colour, olive and navy washing the walls, brown leather sofa and black countertops marking their territory in the small apartment, the stain-glass screen in front of your bed the only splash of jewel toned colour. You could feel Viktor’s curiosity at the place, and as he stepped further into it, a smile settled onto his lips.

“It’s so very… you.” He said, and in any other intonation, it would’ve sounded like a bad thing, but when he said it, full of adoration.. it was a compliment of the highest order.

***

She was mesmerising as she cooked, twirling in the kitchen to her carefully selected vinyl, a wide smile on her face as she tested what she was making. He wanted to help but she wouldn’t let him, batting him away and telling him to sit down, and for now, he had obliged. But, as much as he wanted to help her always, right now, he just wanted to be close.

“At least let me pour the wine?” He said, already standing to help, and she huffed, but didn't object. Instead, she handed him the corkscrew and the bottle wordlessly. He smiled, leaning against the counter and continuing to watch her as she stirred. She was always so chaotic when she was creating, something evidenced by the near bomb-site on her kitchen table. It was just so… her. Everything about her apartment was as well, such a perfect and beautiful representation of everything she was, every tiny detail of her life and personality reflected in the space she lived in. The colours, the soft furnishings, the bookshelves lining the wall behind her bed. Then, he noticed something about the stain glass screen that separated the room, soft light from her bedside lamp washing through it and creating a blue ripple across the floor like a stream. It was of their place, their creek. It was abstract, sure, but he would recognise it anywhere. The way certain rocks jutted out, the colours of it all, the small boat floating in the still glass water.

“Did you make that?” He asked earnestly, and she briefly glanced up from the stove to see what he was looking at.

“Yeah, I've been trying out a lot of different hobbies actually, things to keep me busy when I’m not working. That was one of my favourites…”

“It’s beautiful.” She smiled sadly, focusing her attention back to the pan.

“It reminds me of you.”

He poured them both a glass, and she gratefully accepted.

“It’s nearly finished, just a few more… oh I meant to ask earlier…” Her mind was such a beautiful thing, the speed at which it moved so captivating, not even time to finish her own thought before starting another, “why were you even here today? In the Undercity, in my club… I just never thought I’d see you back here by choice.”

“I was visiting an old friend, a quandary about a new gadget Jayce and I are working on, but…” He was going to say something about it, ask her opinion on whether he should follow Doctor Reveck’s advice, what he should do next, but he decided against it. “He didn’t have any insights.”

“Maybe I can help?”

“No, I…” She looked hurt at the speed the word left his mouth, almost recoiling and turning back to her cooking with a frown. “I mean that you probably could, but I don’t want to taint tonight by talking about a project that has been frustrating me for weeks. Another time though, of course I would appreciate your insight.” She sighed in relief, smile flitting back across her face. She grabbed a spoon from the drawer, humming as she did, a flurry of breathtaking movement as she dipped it into the sauce, spinning back around and holding it up to him.

“Taste?” She asked, the look on her face so hopeful it melted him, her joy infectious. But underneath all of it, he couldn't help but notice the cracks: the bags under her eyes, the tiredness set into them, the subtle shake of her hand. But he just smiled, enveloping her hand in his and bringing the spoon to his lips.

“It’s perfect.”

“I’m not sure I’d go that far.” She looked proud nonetheless, spinning back away from him and he was left to watch again, heart swelling. He wanted this. Cooking with her, drinking wine in the kitchen to her favourite record, letting her order him around. He wanted the… intimacy of it. The domesticity. The realisation of it ached. You could’ve had this. All these years without her, all these years wasted. Precious time that you no longer have to spare. If you’d have just waited, just taken more time to find her, insisted on helping her even…

“It’s ready!” She exclaimed, presenting a plate with a wide grin, and every stress, every regret simultaneously melted away and intensified, a pit forming in his stomach.

“It looks wonderful.”

***

You had eaten, and you were both now on your second glass of wine. You felt closer to him with every single second, drawn to every word he said like moth to a flame. At some point in the evening, you’d moved to the floor, backs to the sofa, as you looked through some of your old sketches you had found. The conversation lulled momentarily, a faraway look in his eyes, and you realised how close you had gotten. Your elbow was leaning on the sofa, supporting your head with your body twisted to face him, knee pressing against his thigh. You moved your head forwards to glance at the sketchbook, and your hand fell, resting on his shoulder. A stillness fell over him at the touch, and he smiled sadly to himself.

“I think you should come back with me.” He stated with finality, and you froze.

“What do you…”

“I think you should come back to Piltover.” He closed the book, placing it gently on the low coffee table. He was serious. “Help Jayce and I with our projects. Let me teach you about HexTech.”

“Vik, I don’t exactly have any actual experience. I don’t have an education. I can’t afford to live Topside…”

“You can live with me.” He said it so simply, like it was so obvious. Of course you would love that. Now you’d seen him again, you didn’t want to be apart from him but… “Professor Heimerdinger can give you lessons, but you have the mind already. There are certain things that can’t be taught. You have the passion, the skill, the creativity…”

“But…” You weren’t trying to pick apart his plan, but it felt terrifying. Even though it was everything you had ever wanted, it felt so far fetched. Like a fever dream. It didn’t feel like your life, your future.

“No, I… I lost you once, I can’t do it again.”

“Vik…” He grabbed your hand that was resting by his shoulder, and you felt yourself relax into his touch. He turned head to meet your eyes, sadness creeping into them.

“I don’t have much time left.” The finality of his statement shocked you, and you couldn’t tell what he was talking about. Did he have somewhere else to be? Oh god, you’d already kept him here too long…

“What do you mean, time left?”

“I’m dying.” It felt like somebody had punched you in the gut, all the air in your lungs gone.

“You’re…”

“Dying.” He repeated factually, and your heart sank further into your stomach. “And if we don’t… Jayce and I are working on something that might help, but if it doesn’t, I need someone I trust to take over from me.”

“Viktor, hold on, I need to think…” Your mind was racing, and you still couldn’t quite wrap your head around everything, hands running through your hair. He was dying. He wanted you to move Topside. He wanted you to work with him. To take over his life’s work. “It’s been years. I haven’t seen you in years and now you want me to… now you trust me to…”

“Of course.” He muttered, speaking your name softly to get your attention, hand gently wiping your face where tears had fallen without you noticing. “You’re everything to me, you always have been. There’s nothing I wouldn’t trust you with.” His hand was still resting on your face, and as you searched his eyes, you saw something else. Something pleading, something that echoed the feeling bouncing around in your heart. It would be hard. It would take a long time to settle in, to learn the ropes, to feel like you belonged. But it was your dream. To help change the world. And if he didn't have long, there was no chance you were wasting any of your time left with him.

“Ok.” You answered nodding, and you watched a smile take over his face, heart swelling at the sight.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah… Vik, you’re offering me my dreams on a silver platter, and on top of it all, I get to be…” You nearly slipped, about to say be with you but you knew that was a lot. That you had only just reunited and to spring the whole I’ve loved you since I was 10 and I’ve never loved a soul since thing on him might ruin the dream that he’s just given you. But, fuck, you wanted to kiss him right now. “I get to work with you again.. there would have to be one hell of a catch for me to say no to that.”

“The whole dying thing isn’t too much of a problem then?” He asked with a slight smile, trying to hide a genuine fear beneath a joke.

“Oh, honey, knowing that we don’t have another decade of time to lose… I’m not letting you slip through my fingers this time.” His hand felt so natural resting against your cheek you’d forgotten it was there until it moved to cup the base of your neck, thumb drawing gentle lines across your jaw. His amber eyes were searching your features, looking for anything to indicate that you were unsure, but your resolve shone through, and you could see the moment he realised this was going to work, relief flooding through them.

Then, before you could process what was happening, his hand gently guided you forward until your lips brushed against his—light as a feather. For a moment, you couldn't believe he had just kissed you, that it was real. But as you met those pleading honey eyes, everything else faded away. Every doubt, every regret, every sliver of worry vanished, replaced by such overwhelming care and love that you felt you might burst. Your body gave in without conscious thought, melting into his arms as you kissed him. His hands drifted to the back of your head, tangling in your hair and pulling you closer. You couldn't get close enough, your hands gripping the front of his shirt. His fingers traced down your body until they reached your hips, pulling you over him. A soft giggle escaped into his mouth as you swung your leg over his, settling onto his lap. When he finally broke for breath, you found yourself chasing his lips, panting into the space between you with a wide smile.

His lips found yours again, this time with more urgency, more need. Your hands slid up his chest to his shoulders, steadying yourself as his grip on your hips tightened. The feeling of his fingers pressing into your skin sent shivers down your spine, and you couldn't help but let out a soft moan into his mouth. He smiled against your lips, one hand moving to cup your face while the other remained firmly at your waist.

"I've wanted this for so long," he whispered against your mouth, voice rough with emotion. You could only nod in response, too overwhelmed by the feeling of finally being in his arms after all these years.

The record had long since stopped playing, leaving only the sound of your shared breaths and racing hearts in the quiet apartment. His thumb traced gentle circles on your cheek as he pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, full of warmth and something deeper, something that had been there all along. Something that you had been too blinded by insecurity to notice earlier. Something that you knew all too well, reflected in your own heart. You pressed your lips to the mole on his cheek, and the one beside his mouth, a small smirk playing across his features as you did.

“I still can’t quite believe this is happening.” You muttered softly against his cheek, and he sighed, thumb dancing across your lips.

You eventually found yourselves entwined on your bed, limbs tangled in soft cotton sheets, his back pressed firmly against your sturdy wooden headboard as you rocked into him with gentle, deliberate movements. Each subtle shift of your hips sent waves of pleasure coursing through your entire body, making your breath catch. You panted softly into his mouth as his strong, careful hands helped guide your every motion, his touch both grounding and electrifying. The overwhelming need to be closer drove you to pull him tighter against you, your arms wrapping securely around his shoulders until there wasn't even a whisper of space between your bodies. Your chest pressed firmly to his, feeling his rapid heartbeat matching yours, as your head naturally found its place in the crook of his neck. You pressed feather-light kisses against the sensitive skin, tasting the salt and breathing in his familiar scent. The intimacy of the moment was almost overwhelming - so intense, so raw, so perfectly natural - and you found yourself climbing toward your peak faster than you ever had before, your body responding to his every touch as if it had been waiting for this moment forever. You whined softly into his skin as pleasure built within you, each movement bliss, and he responded with a groan as he pressed his lips tenderly to your temple.

"That feels so good, sweetheart," he drawled, his voice coarse with desire, and your hips instinctively bucked harder against him, drawing a sharp gasp from both of you. His clever fingers traced teasing patterns across your hipbones before finding their way between your bodies, circling your sensitive clit with perfectly measured pressure that made your toes curl. His other hand gently cupped your chin, drawing you back until your eyes met his, gilded with desire but still so full of tenderness. His lips ghosted across yours before he pressed his forehead to your own, releasing your face and returning his hand to your hip, guiding you once more. You could feel yourself fluttering around him as your pleasure built to an almost unbearable peak, and his eyes rolled back, a broken groan escaping his lips and filling the charged space between you. The coil of pleasure wound tighter and tighter as you approached your climax, desperately seeking more of him, claiming his mouth in a deep, passionate kiss that swallowed the stream of desperate moans spilling from both your lips. When your release finally crashed over you, it was like nothing you'd ever experienced - all the pressure, all the built-up desperation exploded like a supernova and pure, white-hot ecstasy consumed every nerve ending, every thought, every sensation except the feeling of him inside you and against you. He followed shortly after, gasping your name like a prayer against your skin as his own pleasure overtook him, his lips finding purchase on your neck as he shuddered through his release. In that moment, it was perfection, hearing him, feeling him, everything you had ever dreamed of and more. But as you came down from your shared bliss, you couldn't quite silence the intruding thought lurking at the edges of your consciousness - that you wouldn’t have him for long.

She looked so peaceful curled against him, her head nestled perfectly in the crook of his chest as if she belonged there, her beautiful red hair fanning out across the pillow like a fiery halo in the dim light. Her beauty was staggering - the gentle slope of her nose, the delicate arch of her brows, the soft curve of her lips - and he couldn't help but trace each feature with his fingertips, mapping the geography of her face with tender precision. She sighed contentedly in her sleep at his touch, unconsciously pressing closer to him, one hand curling loosely in the fabric of his sheets that lay across them. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt this complete, this profoundly at peace, as if all the jagged pieces of his life had suddenly aligned. His fingers continued their gentle exploration, committing every detail to memory - the light dusting of freckles across her nose, the subtle flutter of her eyelashes, the way her lips curved slightly downwards even in sleep. He wanted to capture this moment, to carry it with him always like a talisman, a protection. A reminder that he would do anything to preserve her peace of mind. To make her happy.

The soft amber from the bedside lamp caught in her hair and painted her skin in warm honey tones, making her look almost otherworldly in her beauty, an ethereal being who had chosen, inexplicably, to be with him. He pressed his lips to her forehead in a feather-light kiss, breathing in the familiar scent of her hair, before letting his own eyes drift closed. Despite everything - his illness creeping through his veins, the uncertainty that clouded their future like a torrential storm on the horizon - right now, everything felt exactly as it should be.

[exchao-ordo]

Clock hands and fingers too

Viktor and that beast, Ambition.

-

Viktor's fingers tap against the brace of his right thigh. One two, one two three, one two, and one two three. Again and again, as if somehow the dull thuds would speak to him, whisper and reveal some obscure pattern between the equations that would finally allow him to ease his shoulders and straighten his spine in relief. He changes the rhythm, syncing his taps with the seconds that pass by. Over and over and over, until eventually he ceases because his fingers cramp from the cold and all he's left with is silence broken by the intermittent ticking of the clock above the ashy chalkboard in front of him.

He sighs and flexes his fingers to work through the stiffness. He draws the digits up to his mouth and nibbles at the edges of his fingertips, teeth bundling mountains of dead skin and cleaving them off like clockwork. It's a bad habit, he knows--one that comes out only when he's been backed into a corner that he can't crawl out of--but he's done it since he was a boy. And that's what he felt like now--a stupid boy that loses to boats and only stumbles after dreams. If he was half the scientist the Heimerdinger was, he'd have figured out a way to get the Hexcore to respond to something consistently, and he could die knowing that while he was in this body, he'd done some good. So he continues to gnaw at each finger, stripping away flesh to get closer to bone, until he hits blood and the hurt is just a little too much for him to bear.

That damn clock keeps ticking, more and more. Faster and faster and louder and louder until it's all that Viktor can hear. He gets up with a start, knocking over the chair that was underneath him and falling forward on to his cane. His fingers shake, and adrenaline thrums through his veins. He breathes faster; his lungs burn. He understands that in about 1 minute, he'll collapse from this little episode of his. But for now, he doesn't care because that damn clock keeps ticking, and he needs something to stop it. So Viktor throws a leather-bound journal at it--a stray archive of research from years ago when his ambition didn't sting and his body stood straighter--and knocks it clean off the wall. He's winded by the act, and he immediately starts coughing red-pink sputum followed by maroon blood.

The clock's hands aren't moving. He sees that they're not moving, but he still hears the ticks, so he uses his fingers--gnarled and knobby now, he thinks--to plug his ears. It doesn't stop. He coughs some more.

Viktor passes out, and it occurs to him when he rouses 7 minutes later that the sound never came from that clock because its battery died years ago. It came from somewhere else, somewhere within him--was it the rattle in his bones? The stridor from his chest?

Or maybe it was the sound of his mind clattering around like a loose gear inside of his head. The echo of his withering fingers rapping impatiently against his soul.

[ihopeinevergetsoberr]

— i’m in love with a dying man

rating: mature. or explicit? i’m not sure. angsty study on grief in unconventional forms. (mild) smut purely for poetic reasons

word count: 4,1k

pairing: viktor x gn!reader

cw: terminal illness. several mentions of death. everyone is horny in a heartbroken way, so grab a napkin—but not for the reasons you think. and yes, you may dox me for making you even sadder after whatever happened in ep 6.

—

He licks a tear off your cheek, and it seeps in between the bumps on his tongue, all prickly salt running down your face in two glossy trails of sorrow. Stinging, when his calloused thumb swipes over a puffy eyelid, only to inevitably fall to your lip and tug, nudging your mouth agape. His desperate grip softens when you oblige and arch, letting him grunt over the slope of your throat; wheezier than you remember, raw, rhotic and ravenous. The hard shift of his lungs is palpable under your hand, ruckling heavily in his sternum. It almost breaks down to a cough when he cants his hips into you, slanting one last slow, weak slam. Spilling all his pent-up frustration deep inside you through that bitter orgasm, leaving a clumsy mess of stickiness to dry on your inner thigh. Stilling for you to hold him through that collapse, grateful for the shaky hand that you firmly fist into his hair. Not receding until at least a few kisses are strewn upon your shoulder. 

It’s always like this now. Viktor clings to you, and you cling to him, nails digging into handfuls of him hard enough to draw blood, each embrace so tight your ribs might just break if he doesn’t retreat in time. And god does he wish to let it linger, to drag it out until eternity tumbles in—even if his eternity is reduced to a question of mere months at best, even if he must crawl out of a casket to have your touch back. 

The night you almost lost him still has you in shambles. You remember it all too well—hell, it’s almost like that acute smell of hospitals and doom still coats his skin, more slimline than it ever was, its once ivory shade fading to chalk-like disaster. The utter horror of crushing verdicts, endless heaps of bloodied handkerchiefs and palms so cold that even the heat of your breath fails to make the feeling of him any less chilling. 

The dark humor of sneaky death: she’s right around the corner, the cruelest of all mistresses. Ready to snatch him away whenever your fingers ghost over his spine, stroking a languid count over each prominent vertebrae. And no matter how tight you curl up beside him, she will supplant you, and her proximity can’t be measured in miles, feet, or inches. Because death is a termite—she gnaws at his very heart. And blooms metastases everywhere you still have him. She’s inside him. She’s merged with him into one.

At first, you denied it. Knuckles drummed against the wall in a frustrated fistfight, painting that scabrous canvas bright with your frustration. White and crimson—the speckled pattern of your hysteria. You recall how bad it stung, and how shame creeped up your spine—frightening and so, so sticky. Throttling, when he tended to that self-inflicted disaster, bandaging your smashed hand in motions sick to the core with gentleness. 

And it felt so ugly. Like you’ve grown to loathe everything around you: the doctors, for their disgusting prognosis; life itself, for being hardly fair. And even Viktor. Especially him—for slowly slipping out of your pale-knuckled grip. Well, red-knuckled, more like. That angry stunt did cost you a decent injury. White and crimson, remember? 

Naturally, grief doesn’t always progress by the book. However, denial always comes first. It’s an axiom, an invariable component, and you’re sitting on Viktor’s hospital cot, hand in trembling hand, eyes snapped wide and ferocious. Wrapped up in fear while the silence rings in your ears. 

His doctor addresses the quandary. It doesn’t feel vicious—at least, not yet. Flimsy, more like. Deceptive, too. Like if you just blink it away hard enough everything will snap right in place, and you’ll find yourself at home again—where that aseptic smell of medication can’t reach either of you. 

Well, of course, there’s always a possibility of postponing the inevitable. Winning over a year or, even, two—if Viktor’s lucky enough, that is. But you both know that he’s lacking in that department.

And yet, you grab your little hope by the throat: to look into later, when your comprehension is intact again. Surely, it’s just not plausible: so what if Viktor’s cough pulls you out of sleep every night, so what if every shirt he owns has tiny blood stains on it? Yes, he spends more time in bed than he does at the lab. He’s simply tired. He needs the rest. Not in peace. 

The retraction doesn’t linger, though. It survives a few more blood tests and a lengthy, dreadful discussion of his calamity—most strikingly frightening when the doctor talks him through each option. And not a single one manages to appease you. To stop your fury from retching out and causing an ugly scene. 

So you fling the door to his room ajar and leap inside with a bitter scowl, teeth gritting hard enough to crumble into powder. Arms a tight crisscross over your chest, step wide and listless—punctuated with a muffled clack of heels. Viktor’s eyes follow your tremulous circles—a lazy, sheenless flick of pupils, each widened into a bleak void from the rancid dose of painkillers. He lays supine, with his hair ineptly slicked back, umber waves awry, loose and sweat-damp. He’s almost mellow, tongue barely a glide over his chapped bottom lip—a martyr-like stiffness, the carrion of a man. 

But you don’t look at him. You pace, and pace, and pace—in that same tiring route, all around his creaky cot. Viktor rasps something indistinct—a muffled plea that tickles the back of his throat, rupturing yet another coughing fit. You silently hand him the speckled handkerchief. 

He looks up, eyes the saddest shade of buckwheat honey—dark with remorse; seeking comfort. But you don’t have any to give. You stare past him, gnawing at your tongue hard enough to draw fleshy copper. Dodging the kiss he tries to press to your wrist—pulling yourself back and out of his loving grip, igniting a staring competition full of glassy eye-daggering. Blink slow and borderline drowsy. 

“Milackú,” he pleads. Pulls at the corner of his mouth to wipe the bloody evidence of his withering. 

Your tear catches in your bottom lashes. 

“Milackú,” he rasps again, kicking the blanket aside. Stepping one bare foot on the cool tiles and reaching for you: arms, legs, and heart—all yours for the taking. If only you consider crawling under his minty sheets again. 

You don’t. 

“Why?” It’s so meek you barely recognize it as your own. Taut throat tightens even more, and, suddenly, you’re choking on a gasp. “Why did you turn down the treatment?” 

“Please, if you could just—“ He husks, but you can’t hear him through the ringing in your ears; the room already smudged into wattery, astigmatic lumps, Viktor’s face but a bunch of fuzzy dots you’re struggling to make out. All missing jigsaws, blurry little fractions. 

“What did I ever do to you?” You yell, shielding your eyes. Turning away from the arm he extends, his weak fist clenching to grab thin air, then tumbling as he stares at his palm in sheer dubiety, upper lip trembling. 

He winces. Ceases you by the hand and tugs as hard as it gets—frail enough for you to easily nudge him away—but you don’t bother this time. Your knees ungainly bend into shaky arcs, drifting apart when he clasps around you and pulls until you finally land on the sheets next to him, your tears mingling with his cold sweat—a salty fusion of mutual suffering.

Then comes a sequence of guttural, squealing whines and you stay twined with him for a while. Lithe fingers run through your hair, spreading to untangle an occasional knotted strand—up, and down, and over your shoulder in a caress. His lips purse on your temple, sucking an indistinct kiss. His heartbeat trails off under your fingertips the second you rake them over his thin hospital gown, growing frenetic again when you tug at the fabric, demanding closure.

“Please. Please don’t do this to me.” You exhale your choked up entreaty into his neck and it pours over his skin in a rigid breath, aftertasting of stinging desperation. His hand seeks your face, taking a forcefully gentle hold of one puffy cheek, drinking in your unsightly, woebegone rebuke. Looking at you like a repentant devotee, his timid eyes meeting your fierce ones.

“This is not about you,” he wheezes, too stern for your liking. Presses his forehead against yours and holds you through yet another shudder—and there’s no avoiding his pleading stare. “I’m not trying to get away from you. I merely want to escape my conundrum.” 

“These aren’t mutually exclusive, Viktor,” you hiss, voice simmering with betrayal. 

“Unfortunately.” 

“Unfortunately?! Is that all you have for me right now?” 

“I’m afraid so.” 

He sighs like he means it. His words keep slipping away from him, drowned in coughs and ambiguous humms. You get it, though. Your semantics became sparse the minute Viktor almost died in your arms. 

You melt into one-another in a teary, sniffling twine—simply breathing, trading tense silences. His stately stance collapses into a lifeless hunch, straightening a bit only when your fingers billow over his shoulder-blades—chiseled like ones of a famished dog. There are plenty of dog-like things about him now—the pleas lodged in his glances, the newfound hunger for your touch. Especially for the way you’re holding him; every embrace like a loving headlock—and the pressure soothes him. 

“I’m tired of taking risks,” he finally whispers against your temple. “All these… labored efforts for mere fractions of peace. Decaying steadily. Constantly hurting. I’m spent.” 

“Exactly. Which is why you need the treatment.” 

His lashes shudder against your cheek in a prickly tickle. They keep fluttering when he recedes, shaking his head with a bitter frown.

“But its success is… highly improbable.” 

“Yes, but there’s still hope—“

“It’s running thin as we speak. I shouldn’t squander it on… the imminent.” 

Viktor’s irksome choice of words had you springing backwards in glossy-eyed delirium. Staring in disbelief as if he’d requested something inexorable: which he did, inherently so. 

He curses when tears slice your face again—tends to them with the softness of a man most contrite of his omission, shaky hands already catching holds of your waist, using your temporary pliancy to swiftly nudge you into his cot. Curling up close enough to have your weeps reverberate in his sternum. 

“I’m sorry,” he repents with a deep rasp. “Please, don’t cry.” 

He held you in reticence again: this time horizontally. Offered you every solace his body could provide: your fingers in his hair, fumbling mindlessly (he put them there himself). Tangled legs. Apologetic neck-kisses. His head heavy on your shoulder, its weight a welcome tranquility. And only when your last tear soaks his pillow does he commence with his explanation. 

“I don’t want to spend what little time I have left miserable,” he tells you, drawing a breath. “Yes, the treatment might win me a year—a year I would spend bedridden, nauseous, and weary. A travesty of life. An illusive salvation. I’ve had enough of those.” 

Your hand stills in his hair, nestled within unkempt strands. You’ve run out of tears, so this bitter truth is met with nothing but a piteous sigh—the only thing you can still master after crying your heart out into his skin. Now you can only stare at the ceiling, chewing on your cheek in cruel denial. 

He’s right. He always is. 

Viktor sees the shift in your face—knits his eyebrows together in tender pity, tucking himself firmly against your face. Wincing, when he feels the aching tension in your temple. 

“I know I’m asking a lot of you. Too much, even.” He’s sincere when he says that, and you can sense the gratitude in his voice—for even allowing him to utter this excruciating of a thing, for attempting to understand. 

You simply nod. Yes. It is a lot. But you want to hear everything he has to say. 

So Viktor continues.

“I would hate for your last memories of me to be tainted with despair and hospitals only for all the struggle to go to waste when I inevitably pass away. I have no desire to postpone this torture at the expense of growing indifferent towards everything that makes me feel alive.” 

“But what if we manage to cure you?!”

“That’s too much of a ‘what if’ to risk dying a grim death for. I want to die…content. I want to enjoy myself before I do. Please. Don’t take that choice away from me.”

His eyes brim at you with every ounce of guilt he possesses, big tears wallowing in his eyes like an earnest plea—tacit, weary, earnest. Yes, it’s not like you have a word in his terrific decision, but Viktor wants your blessing. It’s only right that he includes you. Even if he’s intending to refuse the treatment regardless. As absurd  a bid as that is. 

You clasp his face like it’s about to vanish. Like you won’t be able to make it out when he’s gone if you fail to remember it right this instant, your gaze frantically jumping from one feature to another, seeking to embroider the image into your very eyeballs. Roaming over the artifically-white hospital light hallowing every streak of his hair. Indulging in a bittersweet smile when you note how prettily it spills over the pillow. Lingering on the patterns in his ochre irises—almost fully swallowed by his void-like pupils. Observing how they match the insomniac, mauve shades under his bottom lashes. Tracing every convex little thing—two lovely moles, thick eyebrows, the pointy mouth. Everything you’ve grown to love so dearly. Everything his illness keeps taking away from you. 

You wince, cradling his cheeks, your thumbs dipping into the hollows of them gently. Urging him to scoot closer—eye to eye, lips on lips. Breath over shuddering breath. 

“Are you sure?” You mouth the question on his skin, barely even uttering it. Hot pressure meanders into your head like a prickly impulse. It’s timid like motion sickness—borderline nauseating, too—all murky splashes of trippy lights under your closed eyelids. And the unease is diluted only when he finally kisses you—an approbatory, guilt-ridden thing. 

He’s certain. And for that, he’s so, so sorry. 

You try not to think of it, focusing on the feeling. No tongue, no teeth: just sheer tremor and so much rawness. A soft, soothing exhalation straight into your mouth like the gentlest of placebos—and yet, it works for you, slaps your pulse out of its frantic antics, and the stiffness slowly leaves your limbs under his touch. 

When it’s over, he winces at you in that sleepy, adoring way of his. Attempts a wry, sad smile. The cold light besieges his head into an even clearer halo—a foreshadowing of what is to come, an inconspicuous little thing. But everything about him is conspicuous to you. Loving Viktor has made you wary, and you wanted to hold onto that attention to the detail before it eventually slips away alongside him. 

 “Are you sure?” You repeat, tightening the inadvertent chokehold around his neck. The grip weakens only when he pulls away to clumsily clear his throat. 

“Yes.” And you know he means it when his face turns just as solemn as when he confesses his love to you. 

“I’ve had a nice life with you,” he adds, hoarsely. “I want it to feel nice when my time comes, too—whenever that might be. Sooner than later, I presume.” 

The figurative knife in your stomach twists anticlockwise. 

“Will you stay with me?” He dares to inquire. Meek, shaky hope tingling in his throat. “For however many months I have left?” 

And when you look up at him with a hurt frown, he’s reminded not to ask you rhetorical questions. 

— 

A few days later, Viktor is discharged from the hospital and insists that you both go back to normal. Well, to the new, tainted definition of it—where one spoiled napkin less is considered an ephemeral improvement and grief is a fixed variable by your side. 

Your slow-paced, quiet life that keeps turning even more timid in a frail attempt to savor what’s left of it. Faux preservation, but he allows it—savors it just as earnestly as you do, and your weeks weave into a darling, familiar routine. With some minor, necessary changes, no less: rest comes before the lab now, all deadlines fashionably late to accommodate this newfound tempo. Mandatory hourly breaks. Weekly check-ups. Four days off for every three he spends bent over the parchment. But this time, he doesn’t protest. His body demands it, inconveniently so.

You don’t tell anyone about your horrific arrangement—not yet, at the very least. It’s all you can think about, and the words threaten to slide out every time you speak—but you’re forced to swallow them with a smile so lopsided that everyone around you can only suspect the worst. A mantra of countless ‘What’s wrong’s irritating your ears with pure sincerity. 

What is wrong with you, indeed? You’re a spectator to death—not just any death, but the one you dreaded most. And not only are you witnessing it in the making, but this decision was never forced—you handed Viktor the choice and accepted whatever he went with so obediently that it felt absurd, and it had your skin crawling every time someone vaguely mentioned anything even remotely related to his condition.

But they—whoever that refers to—could never get it. They wouldn’t know what it’s like: to be stripped of your selfishness for the sake of Viktor’s peace. Defying your needs. Forcing yourself to find relief in demise. You might’ve failed to intimidate her into allowing you to keep him, but you could still accompany him into her arms and make it glorious. Here it is. Your new, appalling reason. It’s all that you want now.

Or is it? 

There’s plenty of nobility in being his chaperone—welcoming him into bed every night, painfully aware that it can become his death one. Treating every new invention of his like a soon-to-be postmortem legacy. Mourning the living. Anticipating the inexplicable. Marking every shared kiss the last, just in case. 

But then it came—unabashed and sudden. That blurry line where mourning merges into something dubious, a confusing paradox that leaves you full of filthy carry-over somewhere within your gut. The scorch his lips engrave into the column of your neck. The way it ignites a swell you can almost convince yourself is actually tangible, running your fingers over it recursively like a tactile little prayer. The gaze he throws at you across the lab ever so sneakily—a figurative punch that feels surprisingly close to a kiss. And you never resist turning it into one. Escalating. Claiming. Indulging those ambiguous, yet-to-be-defined things and having them wash over the remnants of your decorum. 

You try to fight it when it first happens, but it doesn’t last. There’s no place for restraint in grief—not when it turns into a beautiful desire to be all over him, to take everything life has to offer before he runs out of it. And Viktor doesn’t judge you. He encourages it. He craves it, just as bad—if not more—than you do. How many more undoings can he claim before the final one absorbs him? You’ve already lost that count. So much for having your love bleed on every inch of his skin.

Tonight you let it bleed mouth to mouth—a sweaty, heartfelt thing that commemorates your hunger for him in a kiss so dizzying that he has to lean back with a silent, breathless plea for brief interlude—foggy eyes staring up at you so devotedly. Shuddering, when your arms wander over his chest to feel the rasp, pointed lips bruised full of spit-slick swell. He’s a beauty—exquisite, albeit worn-down, his lines and angles blurring together into one eager, contourless essence, and you cage him in a firm straddle—your bare thighs over his clothed ones—grinding in a whiny attempt to reach him through his pants. 

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, leaning back to let him breathe. He’s sprawled out beneath you, tortuous hands already busy with tugging his tie off—impatient, clumsily nervous. “I don’t know what’s gotten into me,” you say at last, averting your gaze almost shyly. His fingers lurch to your hip, locking it in a gentle cradle, stilling above your backside in hesitation—asking for a laze caress, pushing your flimsy limits. As if forgetting that you never set those for him. Or, perhaps, he simply likes hearing your excited ‘yes’ every time. You can’t quite figure out which it is. 

He grabs a handful of you with reverence, and yet there’s something resilient about that grip—like he dreads that you might slip through his fingers if he doesn’t hold on possessively enough, staring up at you with his head thrown back in a curious, admiring droop. Aiming to dispose of your shirt in a nimble pull. Plotting a sequence of kisses from neck to collarbone. 

You expect it when he rises on his elbows, then grips the bedframe to shift beneath you in a silly leap. Inelegant, but he couldn’t care less, releasing his hips from the hedge of your legs to make you slide up his crotch instead—a most welcome, brusque change that you adapt to in a squealing instant. Your moaning mouth agape under his grin. His hips thrusting through restraining fabric. Shaky. Erotic. With your arms tumbling astride his shoulders. 

“Don’t apologize,” Viktor insists in a lulling whisper, switching to a cautionary nip on your ear. “I’ve missed you, too,” he confesses somewhere into your hair, brushing through it with a tip of his nose—breathing you in through a tender whiff.  

Your words get lost in a deep fluster, rolling back into your throat and lingering there in a suffocating lump. They have you stiffening, heavy eyelids squeezing shut—a voluntarily blindfold to help you explore him through touch only. An invitation to feel you where he pleases. And, well—it just so happens that your whims align with his—a cohesive, welcome collateral. 

Viktor starts at the slope of your shoulder. Pulls the shirt down and traces that lovely curve—fingers first. Throws a brief, askance glance at your face to make sure that your eyes are closed, and, when met with the flutter of your lashes, gets back to his lovely tease. Tender, warm lips taste your skin with delicious, savoring sounds. Getting wetter when his tongue makes a fickle appearance—leaves a slick, capricious lick in the dip of your collarbone, fluffy hair tickling your face when he bends to tend to your chest, too—and you shiver as he sucks a plum love-stain that you’ll proudly wear under your shirts. 

“See,” he cooes. “Whatever gets into you must be contagious.” 

You give in to a half-lidded peek and find him begging for your assistance—a sweet request that you understand in half-nod. Arms up in the air and over your clouded head when he unleashes your skin from the thin garment—throws it on the floor for you to find later in the morning. 

“But it feels wrong.” You sigh. “Ever since we found out…”

“I’d rather you quit talking about that in bed, please,” Viktor reproaches, eyes heady with want. His fingers slide into your underwear, contemplating its fate—should he make it join your shirt or pull it to the side in hasty fashion? Either approach had him shivering at the thought. 

But the sudden sorrow stops the rush, rendering your urge for consolation. It wraps you around him all over again, legs locking in a tangle around his waist, drooping hands combing through his hair in a brusque, fervent tug. Seeking succor. Heart to heart and thumping an anxious march. 

“I’m afraid,” you admit, but it’s not a revelation. All shuddering shoulders under his idolatrous caress, and you pang with guilt at that, too—it’s you who should be fondling him this delicately, warm reassurance seeping into his ears—not yours. But Viktor wants to be your comfort. If anything, it’s the only thing on his mind.

“What are you afraid of, beloved?” A little shiver at the unforeign endearment—a rare occasion. His thick brows still drawn together in a concerned arc. They relax only when you rake your fingers down his body—counting ribs, toying anxiously. The hurry is gone, there’s only caution now: his enamored eyes, waiting for you to find your slippery words. 

“Of losing you before I get to show you how much I love you.” You whisper, suddenly tasting teary salt in your mouth. His thumb comes to the rescue, swiftly flicking the wet trails. So you chuckle at the affection in a silly stagger to bump sweaty foreheads together.

“Nonsense,” he insists. “You’re showing me right now.”

“Indeed.” You shrug. “But… Is this the right way?” 

And when he puts your palm over his eager heartbeat, you’re reminded not to ask him rhetorical questions. 

—

tags: @zaunitearchives @blissfulip @nausicaaandhermouth @thehistoriangirl @vyshnevska

[hermaeusmorax]

In Their Shadow

CHARACTERS: Viktor x reader x Jayce

SUMMARY: Viktor entertains a one-sided love with his two best friends, Jayce and you.

WARNINGS: angst with NO happy ending and NO comfort, I wanted to try something different!

A/N: fortunatelly the Arcane brainrot brought me back from my cave, be nice 'cause I'm rusty af in writing atm (as expected after 4 years!). I am also taking more Arcane requests yay! (rules for requests)

Viktor, Jayce and Y/N. The Three Musketeers. If you saw one of them around, no doubt the other two were somewhere nearby, inseparable as they are. What others looking from outside didn't see though, was Viktor's growing resentment towards his two best friends.

It didn't start like this, Viktor used to love them. Love, love them. He still does, but it's twisted now, love and anger so mixed together it's impossible to distinguish which is which. His affection began souring through disappointment at first, Viktor felt disappointed in Jayce for being distracted, their - yours - project suddenly wasn't Jayce's main concern anymore, you were.

When you weren't around Jayce would pester Viktor with daydreams and questions about you "Can you help me find out what's Y/N's type, man? You're way closer to Y/N than I am, please?". Jayce's eyes would shine and his cheeks flush, so enthralled in his own feelings he failed to notice Viktor's growing irritation.

Along the many years the three of you spent together working on Hextech, Viktor couldn't help but be in awe of his two companions. He fell in love with Jayce's passion and with your bright mind. Viktor wanted nothing more than to spend eternity alongside you, picking your brains. But as the two of you grew closer, specially after Jayce's reciprocated advances towards you, you both naturally drifted apart from him.

Viktor was forced to watch on the sidelines, drowning in the darkness of the long shadow your bright relationship cast over him. Left only to daydream about what it could've been like, had he had the courage to tell you or Jayce of his true feelings. Left only to reminisce about the early days of your shared research, when he indeed had the both of you to himself. As an attempt to anesthetize his festering wound, he threw himself at his work on the Hexcore.

Yet another day comes to an end, with Jayce leaving the laboratory with you glued to his arm, both dressed in fancy clothes for a dinner party you were supposed to attend, together, of course. You wave a gloved hand at Viktor, bidding him a gentle goodbye. It irritated him how oblivious you both could be to his true feelings, scientists of the damn year! As the door closed behind you, Viktor was left alone in the dark of the laboratory, so focused on his own misery that he missed when Sky knocked at the door. "Viktor? You still here?" she shyly called from the other side, smile faltering at the deafening silence that followed.

Sky knew he was still there, as it was an habit of his. The tinkering sounds and occasional curses that echoed through the door were just extra proof of his presence. Viktor was so preocuppied with the shadow your and Jayce's love had cast over him, he didn't notice he had cast one of his own. Such is life.

A/N: it physically hurt me to do him so dirty I'M SORRY! Promise to do lots of indulgent and Viktor-focused pieces too, I'm getting my writing groove back on ;).

[sweetieviktor]

"take me back to the night we met", feat. viktor.

summary: you knew he was dieing, but seeing him using shimmer was too much to bare . based on the song "the night we met", by lord huron.

word count: 720.

content warning: season 1, act 3 spoilers! idk if shimmer use count as a cw, but anyways this is angst and it doesn't have a happy ending!

author notes: there's so much time since i've written fanfiction!! but i loved doind this one and i swear that i cried while writing this. and this may be very ooc and doesn't match the scenes in season 1, act 3, but i dont have time to watch it again now and i was so hyped up bcs of season 2 that i just had to write something, yk? also, there may be some typos or grammar errors even though i re-read this like 3 times i think lol. but yeah, here it is!

you came back to his lab expecting to see him doing good, maybe working on his research, too focused on any stuff he was doing at the moment and not noticing you by the door, but he wasn't in there, or so it looked like.

he was hunched over his desk, in his hands was a glass tube, the remaining of the purple liquid shimmering in the dark room, illuminating just enough to draw his weak silhouette amongst the shadows.

“viktor…?” was everything you said while getting closer to him, walking with slow steps, trying to make no sounds to alarm him.

“stop.” raising a hand, that was all he said.

just as you were told, you stopped on your tracks, observing that, his once perfect hand, was now painted in a shade of purple, the same that was inside the glass recipient.

it can't be. right?

“what you did to yourself?”

“i did what needed to be done.” he was so baretoned, you didn't understand why he seemed so rude, so crude, so… unlike him.

when his words settled in, it felt like your stomach was turning, wrapping itself around your guts, making you sick. you felt sick, for him.

“please, please, viktor, don't tell me that you're using sh-” “yes.”

of course you knew about his condition, of course you knew he wasn't doing good at all, and mostly, you knew that things were meant to end, one way or another. but you didn't think he would kill himself like this.

and this was all you needed to break.

“why you didn't told me? i could have helped you, we could find a way to work through it,” the tears started to prick on your eyes, your voice breaking, the anger at yourself pooling into your core. “you wouldn't need to use shimmer, vik...”

the feeling that the universe stole and took all that once mattered to you was what drove you insane. the feeling that you could make things different, make things better, the oh so simple solution that you could find, if only he had told you.

“it’s not that easy! you wouldn't understand if i told you sooner. no one would understand it, even if they tried really hard to.” he turned his head towards your direction, looking at your face for a brief second, before turning his gaze back to the ground, his purple irises trying to focus on something that wasn't your saddened face, now, feeling his own eyes burning, burning even more than the blood running in his veins. “we are in piltover, the city of progress, and yet, i am stuck behind, and i'm dieing. so, i needed to do something, and i did.”

“what you don’t understand is that you're destroying yourself, viktor. destroying yourself so slowly that it almost feels like torture. i fear that i wouldn't be able to see you for another day.” you sobbed, the tears rolling down and he didn't dare to look at your eyes again, he knew that you were crying. he knew it and he couldn't bear the thought that he was the one that made you cry. “if there is a god somewhere, i wish they could turn back time and take me back to the night we met. maybe things could be different, right?”

looking at him, a weak, nervous smile was all you could get out while crying, thinking to yourself when things started to get this wrong and how you let it happen, without even realizing what was wrong. how could you let him do this to himself?

your body was shaking, it felt like the whole world was trembling. the nonstoping thoughts hammering your head, your heart a mile per minute, the air in your lungs wasn't enough. everything, everything seemed like it was crushing down on you, right in this moment.

“i'm sorry. i'm so sorry... i need to go. now.”

you needed to get out of here, you needed to breathe.

you headed back to the door, wishing that some cold breeze would cool you down, would just stop your mind and racing heart. wishing for him to be fine again. praying for any and all gods that lived in the skies and beyond, praying for him to be alive. just for a bit more.

[syschsc]

Jayce's Last Letter to Viktor

IMPLIED SPOILERS AHEAD, PROCEED WITH CAUTION!

Dear Viktor,

In the end, our vision was so close to coming to life. We were so close to getting what we once wished for. As a child, I’d wished for the opportunity to cultivate change, and bring to life my dreams. And when I met you, I knew that we were destined to be great. Your stories of growing up in a world that I wasn’t privy to fascinated me. I was amazed to see that such a bright young mind could make it to a place that no Zaunite has ever explored. The research we were able to complete is something I hold very dear to my heart and I hope that in another lifetime we can meet again. But I knew we were in trouble when we began to aim for the sun. Thinking that we had what it takes to save everyone. Not realizing, we’d managed to lose ourselves. Fighting for the same cause, except our paths were parallel. Our dreams were never crossed, Viktor. Even with that, I’m sorry. I know that what I did has caused so much pain and suffering. But you know what was in the wild rune, I saw unimaginable things. The world was different and humanity as we know it ceased to exist. I should have listened to you. I should have destroyed HexTech. And maybe then, you would have been able to leave on your own terms. Maybe then, we could have found a different way to save each other. I am so sorry. Even now, knowing what I’ve done. Viktor, I’m sorry. I had to kill you. What I saw. What you became was…it was otherworldly. And I know that isn’t you. I caused this. If not for me, maybe you would have had a little more time. Maybe we could have figured out something else. I just, I just want you to know that I am trying my hardest to keep everything for changing again. I’m trying and I’m sorry. But the beings that I saw, they weren’t human. They were…shells of humans. It was haunting...they were haunted by the essence of HexTech. The essence of what you became. The arcane is unpredictable and unstable. There is too much at risk. Allowing you to live, knowing what I know, would have destroyed everyone. Please forgive me, but understand that I made a promise. I made a promise to you that one day I’d destroy HexTech. Especially if it got into the wrong hands. That was the only I could keep up my end of the bargain. There won’t be a next time, not on my watch. If it is the last thing I do, I will keep my word.

Viktor has my word. Had.

My heart is with you,

Jayce

[bshhuo]

Hii,

I wanted to ask about a fanfic that I can’t find, of reader and machine herald victor, it’s a series if may be seven chapters and the plot was that the reader finds Viktor again after they thought he was dead.

It was heavy angst I remember and their relation was a slow burn kind of thing?

The end was kind of like the reader killing a bunch of chembarons and blitzcrank helping, then the reader falls and it’s severely injured and Jayce and Viktor cure her with the he cure.

I tried to find it but I can’t and I was wondering if the author deleted it or something.

Thank you for the help!

[im-a-writer-sometimes]

Life Giveth and Life Taketh Away

Pairing: Viktor x Reader (You can always use this extension to change Y/N to your own name, if you’d like)

Description: When a routine test with the Hexcore goes sideways, Dr. Y/N Cole is left with an unexplained power—a gift that might be the answer to the illness eating away at Viktor’s life. But power always comes with a price, and there are no happy endings in Piltover.

Wordcount: 7.5k

Warnings: Major character death, angst, Jayce being a major pain in everyone’s ass, language, a wee bit of fluff, hurt/no comfort

A/N: Welcome to me ignoring canon for the sake of my stupid little plot!

—

The Hexcore was unlike anything Y/N had ever seen. From the way Viktor toyed with it for hours on end and the way Jayce’s wide eyes watched it undulate and glow, she guessed the duo had never seen anything like it either. It was science, living and breathing—magic, caged and yet dangerously unmoored between Viktor’s trained hands.

It was terrifying in a way, but in her career as a scientist, she had learned to live for the terrifying, riding that fine line between madness and invention. It was that trait within her that had pulled her towards the undoubtedly insane men she now worked for, and had likewise pulled them to her.

“I think Heimerdinger is right in a way,” she said, leaning against the end of the desk as Viktor sat in front of the core, head resting on his hands.

“How so?” He asked, his voice flat.

“We can’t employ the core until we understand it,” she said. He opened his mouth to protest, but she continued. “That just means we need to work twice as hard to understand it, to help the people who can’t wait another year or two years before this technology is available to the public.”

Viktor smiled softly, turning his head back to the core, it’s blue light dancing in the reflection of his yellow eyes. That was what pulled her to the softer, ganglier of the two scientists—and what pulled him to her—that willful, unrelenting drive to help others no matter the cost to themselves. The late nights and the bad coffee and the mornings waking to neck aches as they lifted their heads from the desks they’d sat down at two days ago—it all meant nothing. Nothing compared to the things they needed to accomplish.

“You’ve been up for 48 hours,” she said, standing from her spot against the desk and coming up behind him. “You go get some shut-eye, and I’ll run some more tests.”

“I’m your boss, Dr. Cole,” he said with lethargic amusement in his voice. “You don’t get to tell me what to do.”

“When you’re being stupid, I do,” she said, leaning back against the desk next to him. He smiled and closed his eyes, letting out a deep breath. To her surprise, he reached around her for the cane leaning against the desk, standing with a grunt. “I’ll get a few hours sleep,” he relented, his voice deep and slow with exhaustion, his accent thicker than ever. “And then I’ll be back here to relieve you.”

“More than a few hours, Viktor,” she called as he left, knowing he wouldn’t listen to her. His lack of response said just as much. She sat down in his chair and sighed.

She thought about Jayce, the acting head of the council, busy with political endeavors and Mel, although she couldn’t blame him—if the councilwoman showed even the slightest bit of interest in her, she wouldn’t hesitate to fall into her arms. But despite his distractions, Jayce had been the one to tell her about Viktor’s trip to the hospital. He had been the one to beg her to force Viktor to take care of himself. “He listens to you,” he’d insisted. She spent every day with Viktor, but he revealed nothing—beyond the poorly masked coughs.

He needed this. He needed this promise of future, this promise of life. But he wouldn’t make it to that point of discovery if he kept pushing himself like he was. That was what Jayce had explained to her, translated from the doctor’s prescription of rest, rest, rest. As if that would cure a dying Viktor.

She ran her fingers along the edges of the core, feeling the cool, textured metal against the pad of her thumb. The core seemed to thrum in response, the light within it pulsing playfully. She pulled two wilting plants from a shelf beneath her, setting them on the desk on both sides of the core, and she curled into Viktor’s chair, just watching.

Stems of blue light, curious and alive, reached from inside the core, caressing the leaves of the plants until they started to bristle. Brown, papery skin became smooth, became green and waxy and full of life. The plants lifted themselves from their wilted position section by section, until two entirely different pieces of greenery sat on the desk before her.

She picked one of them up and walked it to the other side of the room, leaving the other by the core. She paced as she watched them both. She watched how the blue light burst and blew one plant apart into a sprout of black thorns. She watched how the other plant wilted again in the absence of the core’s life-giving power. It didn’t matter what life it gave—it was gone in a matter of seconds.

Or maybe mint plants were just inhospitable hosts for this power.

She sat back down, making a list in her head of new hosts to try. She hated the thought of animals, but maybe testing on sick or nearly-dead ones wouldn't be too unethical. Bugs were fair game, but their anatomy was so starkly different from a human’s that how the core affected them would be irrelevant.

It took her a moment to realize the core was still reaching, still hungry. It wrapped its light around the now lifeless tangle of black stems in a constricting, almost predatorial way. It took Y/N an even longer moment to realize it had started reaching for her. Her eyes widened, the light growing brighter before her. It took her too long—just a moment too long—to think to stand up out of its way.

It took another three hours for Viktor to find her collapsed on the floor in front of the desk, the core still pulsing on the surface.

—

Viktor told her she had lost her being-alone-in-the-lab privileges as soon as she woke up in a hospital bed, and Jayce frowned at her, as if saying how is he supposed to rest now, genius? She gave him a tight smile that said I tried my fucking best.

Before an entire non-verbal argument could play out, Mel appeared in the doorway, a soft coat wrapped around her slender frame and a vase of flowers in between her hands. “We leave you alone for an hour, Doctor, and look where you end up.”

“What can I say, I have a proficiency for poor decision making,” she said, and Mel laughed, sitting down at the end of her bed after setting the flowers on Y/N’s bedside table. She smiled at the arrangement of roses, some of them closed tight against the cold hospital air. “Thank you, Councilor,” she said. “These are lovely.”

“You’re welcome,” Mel said, before turning her eyes to Jayce. “But I’m afraid there are some matters that Councilman Talis and I need to attend to. I wish you a speedy recovery, Doctor,” she said as she stood, patting Y/N’s shin through the blankets.

Jayce mumbled a goodbye as he and Mel left together, leaving only Y/N, Viktor, and heavy silence that lingered in the air like molasses.

“I appreciate Mel’s sentiment,” she said softly, “but I hate roses.” Viktor looked up at that, watching her with wary eyes. “I don’t like how they close up.” She lifted a hand and ran a fingertip along one of the closed flowers as if to prove her point.

Her hand stilled as the petals quivered beneath her touch, before bursting open in a quick rush. Viktor stopped breathing. She drew her hand back. And then she lifted it again, reaching for another closed rose. It opened much the same, and she could hear Viktor’s sharp intake of breath.

“Find me a dead one,” she said, and it took Viktor a moment to even realize she had spoken.

“What?”

“A dead plant. Find me, uh, a dead plant, to—”

He was out of his chair and limping down the hallway before she could finish her sentence. He returned a moment later, a poor nurse hauling a browning plant in a large planter into the room.

“Beside the bed,” he said softly, and the nurse deposited it there, staring at them both expectantly. “That will be all, thank you.”

Once he left, she reached out, pressing her fingertips against one of the wilting leaves. Like mold on bread, green spread out beneath her fingers until the entire plant was living again.

“What have you done?” Viktor breathed, and she shook her head.

“I don’t—I don’t know,” she said. She looked down at her hands, the same as they were last night, and shook her head again. “I ran the same test we’ve run a million times. The plants—the plants died and withered, but the core–”

“What about the core?”

“I don’t know. It was different.”

“Different how?” He said, scooting the plant away and sitting down in the chair beside the bed. “I need you to explain it to me in detail, Y/N.”

She bristled at the sound of her first name in his accented voice. He always called her Doctor or Cole or Dr. Cole. But she didn’t have time to linger on the significance of it when he was staring intensely enough at her to make a lesser person shrink away in discomfort. But she knew this gaze—his problem-solving gaze. She just wasn’t used to being the problem he was solving.

“The plants were enough to wake it this time, but not enough to satiate it. It was hungry, and then,” she paused. “Predatorial? I saw it reaching for me, and I was just too stunned to move. And then I woke up here.”

“That’s all you remember?”

“Yes,” she said. He reached out to take her hand in his, to study it, but she pulled back. His narrowed eyes met hers. “Don’t—don’t touch me, we don’t—”

“We don’t what?” He asked slowly.

“We don’t know what’s going on, and I don’t want any… unintended side effects.” She thought about the mint plant bursting into wild black and shivered, Viktor’s face hovering in front of hers. She pressed her hands beneath her legs for safe measure.

“Yes, right,” he said. And then he was gone for a moment, returning with a pair of lamb-skin gloves dangling from his fingers. “To prevent any unintended side effects.”

—

Jayce was ecstatic when he returned to the lab later that day, explaining to Viktor’s unimpressed face how Y/N’s ability was a vital step in understanding the core. How she was fine, as the doctor’s had confirmed, and she now had the ability to bring plants to life.

“With none of that turning black and dying stuff,” he added, gesturing to the two plants now basking in the window—the vase of fully-bloomed roses and the potted plant, both still alive.

“Just like we do not understand the core,” Viktor explained, “we do not understand what it has done to Dr. Cole. We need—time.”

“Time?” Jayce said. “Weren’t you the one who said people need help now? Here’s your answer, Viktor,” he said, gesturing to Y/N as if she were a potted plant as well. “Why not take advantage of it?”

“Maybe because it is our friend and our colleague, and there is no need to put her in more danger than she has already subjected herself to,” Viktor said.

Y/N frowned—upset that she was actively being excluded from this conversation, and glad because she truly didn’t know who she sided with.

“What about you, Viktor?” Jayce continued, his voice softer. “You thought the Hexcore was the key to curing you, and now,” he looked over at her, “the key might be Y/N.”

Viktor stood, putting his weight on his cane to stand face-to-face with his partner. “Enough,” he said. “This was an unfortunate accident, an accident we still do not know the full repercussions of. Dr. Cole is not a trinket, she is not a science experiment, and I won’t treat her as such.”

Y/N stood, and they both turned their heads towards her. “I need a glass of water.”

Jayce was quick to fetch it for her, and then both men were watching her intently as she drank, eyebrows raised. She sighed.

“Jayce has a point,” she said, apologetic eyes meeting Viktor’s. “This could very well be a blessing in disguise, Viktor.”

Jayce lifted his hands in an I told you so gesture that had Viktor rolling his eyes.

“But,” she continued, and both the men’s focuses returned to her. “Viktor is right that the risks of getting ahead of ourselves right now far outweigh the potential rewards.” It was Viktor’s turn to gloat, but he just smiled softly. “We don’t know if those plants will blacken and die. It may only take longer for them to do so.”

Viktor’s smile disappeared at that, before he nodded solemnly.

“Let’s monitor your power,” he said. “We will test it on more plants, on dying animals, and we will see what becomes of them.”

“Because sickly rats are more deserving of this power than you,” Jayce said, sharp eyes on Viktor’s profile as he watched her. Viktor ignored him, crossing the room to pull a mint plant from our withering collection.

Jayce’s eyes met Y/N’s, and she shook her head. He clenched his fists and was gone in an instant, the lab door slamming behind him.

—

Viktor’s next hospital visit was less shocking than the first. And the doctor’s advice was the same. Rest, rest, rest, he told Viktor. So your inevitable death will come a little later, was the bit he forgot to add.

By the time a disheveled Jayce walked through the door to the hospital room, Y/N had fallen asleep, curled awkwardly in a chair, her head resting on the foot of the bed. The lamb-skin gloves were on her hands—as they had been for the last two weeks except for when she was curing canaries and mice and mint plants. In her foggy, half-conscious haze, she heard the tail-end of a whispered conversation, voices floating above her like light from the core, reaching desperately through the space in between.

“You have to try,” said Jayce, his voice kinder than she’d heard it in weeks. “What is there to lose?”

“Without thinking about the potential consequences for me, we don’t know what the consequences for Y/N will be,” said Viktor, her first name feeling so out of place, like a confession she wasn’t meant to hear.

“Viktor—”

“She’s been curing plants and small animals, not human beings.”

“The Hexcore never gets any weaker,” Jayce countered. “It never dims, and that same power is in Y/N. You have to trust it.”

“I don’t. Not with her life,” came Viktor’s defeated voice.

She heard shuffling as Jayce stood and felt his warm hand on her back.

“She’d never try something if you didn’t approve,” he said. “Why don’t you give her a chance to choose for herself?” He paused. “Your life matters too, Viktor.”

She fell back asleep to images of yellow eyes closing for good, hands reaching out too late, and a cough somewhere in the distance.

—

A week in the lab until his next episode. A week during which Y/N cured a cat of pneumonia, developed a minor cough which had Viktor—for lack of better terms—flipping his shit, recovered quickly, and tried to convince him to get at least five hours of sleep every night (which he didn’t).

A week until the doctor came into Viktor’s hospital room with a frown and no longer told her he should rest more. There is no more delaying it, he said with just the defeated look in his eyes.

A week until Jayce had the same argument again—only this time with her.

“He’s dying, Y/N,” said Jayce, eyes flitting to Viktor’s sleeping form. “I’m begging you to at least try.”

She watched the way Viktor’s chest rose and fell beneath the blankets—each breath a monumental effort he might not have the strength to make again. She looked back at Jayce.

“It’s his life,” she said. “And he’s right. We don’t know what will happen.”

“I know you won’t just let him die,” Jayce said. “You care for him. Much more than you care for me.” She opened her mouth to counter, but he lifted his hand. “I’m not offended, Y/N. I only ask you to do what you’ve been wanting to do since the moment you made that rose bloom.”

He departed soon after that, muttering something about council business and leaving a kiss on her hairline, as if he was trying to transfer the will to cure him into her.

Viktor was right. Every test they had done had been successful, but they still didn’t know the long-term side effects—on her patients and on her. Viktor understood the ethics of research and nothing would make him flinch from that, not in a way that might hurt someone else. She understood that, truly she did.

But Jayce was right in a more pressing way. They didn’t have years to understand this ability. They had another month, if they were lucky. Viktor was dying anyway, and he would undoubtedly die if she sat here and did nothing. He deserved a chance, no matter how much he said he didn’t want it. And she was the only one who could give it to him.

She scooted her chair towards Viktor until there was no room left between it and the bed. She peeled off the lamb-skin gloves slowly, setting them on the bedside table. She stayed like that for a while, hands suspended in the air above his sleeping form, taking slow breaths in and out. She only shifted to wipe the tears that had started to trickle down her face.

“Viktor,” she breathed. His eyelids shifted, but he made no other movement. She started reaching for the gloves again, picturing his anger when he woke up, anger she never wanted directed at her. She stalled when she thought about him not waking up at all. The anger was preferable, she decided, fingers reaching for his face.

She felt static shock run through her body as her fingertips grazed his cheek. His eyelashes fluttered, and he leaned into her touch. Her other hand reached for his, twining their fingers together until her knuckles were colorless. When his eyes stilled again, she brought her other hand to his, pressing his hand between her palms and bringing it up to her face, planting kisses along his knuckles.

“I’m sorry,” she said into his skin. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

She fell asleep with her head against their tangle of hands.

—

She woke to an empty hospital bed, her cheek resting against the mussed-up blankets.

In her half-consciousness, she thought Viktor must have died in the night, and they’d already hauled away his body. She stood quickly, blood-rushing to her head and sending her on a quick trip to the floor, knees colliding with the cool stone. She cursed, suddenly conscious enough to realize they would have woken her if her dearest friend had passed on in his sleep. But the question remained: where was he? She stood, the action taking much more effort than usual, and stepped into the hall.

“Excuse me,” she said, stopping a nurse as she passed by. “Do you know where Viktor went?” she asked, gesturing to the empty bed behind her.

“He was discharged early this morning,” she said.

“Discharged? He was the sickest he’s ever been. How was he discharged?”

“The doctors are still trying to puzzle it out,” she shrugged. “But he was perfectly fine when he woke up. Left in a rush.”

Y/N stared open-mouthed and dumbfounded at the nurse as the truth dawned on her. The nurse lingered for a moment—most likely concerned by her notable absence of reaction—before continuing on her way. She stood in the doorway, completely motionless, as she realized what she’d done.

She cured him.

It worked.

Jayce was right.

She grabbed the gloves from the table and left, going to the one place she knew he’d be.

The lab was a mess when she got there, notes ripped from journals and scattered along table tops, pieces of hextech dangerously littered about the room. He looked like a mad scientist sitting in the middle of all of it—the mad scientist she had first met, with color in his cheeks and a light in his eyes she couldn’t believe had ever been gone.

But then those eyes turned on her, and the light became fire.

“What have you done?” He said, standing up on his cane and closing the distance between them.

“I don’t know.” Her voice was small, much smaller than she wished it to be.

“You don’t know?” He said, throwing his arms in the air. “Of course you do not! How can you? But luckily for you, I can enlighten you.” He paused, turning away from her. He ran a hand down his face as he considered how to continue. “You have cured me, Y/N,” he said eventually, barely looking over his shoulder at her. “I can breathe, I can walk about without nearly fainting, I can live.” He looked at her, and she found no gratitude in his eyes. “What did Jayce say to you? You said you would do nothing without my wish for you to do so. And I did not wish this.”

“Why?” she said, taking a step towards him. When he turned his face and refused to meet her eyes, she shook her head. “Maybe you had accepted your death, but I hadn’t. You were living on borrowed time, Viktor. Every trip to the hospital was one trip closer to your last, and I couldn’t watch you die. I couldn’t watch you let yourself not die, not when I have this.” She lifted her hands, and he finally looked at her, grimacing. “You said our work could help people, and I have just proven that it can, we—we should be celebrating, you bastard,” she said, her voice growing thinner. She took in a shaky breath. “You should be thanking me, you should—” She groaned, clenching her fists in an effort to slow the painful race of her heart. She sighed. “I don’t know why you were so happy to die, Viktor. But you deserve a chance. And I was the only one who could give it to you.”

“It was not your right,” he said slowly.

“I don’t care!” she said, throwing her arms up in the air. “You’re alive, Viktor! You’ll live for years and years to come; who gives a fuck who has the right? I wasn’t going to give you the right to die.”

He grunted and turned  away from her, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I just–I need a moment,” he said. She scoffed.

“Take a lifetime, Viktor,” she said, the door slamming shut behind her.

—

When Jayce heard the news, he was knocking on her apartment door (after visiting a moody Viktor, of course). He crushed her in a hug before she could say hello, lifting her off the ground and twirling her through the air like a ragdoll.

“It worked!” He said, setting her back down with his hands on the tops of her arms. “I told you it would!”

She stepped out of his grasp, walking further into her apartment. “But Viktor—”

“He’ll come around,” Jayce said, following her. “I know he will; he’s just mad he can’t be so morbid all the time now.”

She nodded, grabbing a mug from the cupboard. “Tea?”

Jayce smiled, pulling out a chair at her breakfast table. “You know me so well, Doctor.”

She sat down across from him a minute later, two cups of chamomile between them.

“I’m just—” Jayce started, his eyes fixated on something outside the window. “I’m just so relieved. For so long, we couldn’t do what we love. Everything was about Viktor getting better, as it should have been, and now—” He smiled. “—Now we go back to how it always was.”

She nodded, taking another sip of her tea. She nearly spilled it when a cough immediately ripped through her throat, followed by another cough, and another.

“You alright?” Jayce asked, setting down his cup and reaching a hesitant hand towards her.

“Wrong pipe,” she wheezed, standing up from her seat and clutching a hand to her chest. Jayce stood as well, hands hovering in front of him as if he didn’t know what to do.

“Doctor—”

“I’m fine,” she managed, walking to the sink and cupping her hands beneath the faucet, drinking mouthfuls of cold water.

“I don’t know if that’s going to—”

The water came back up immediately, followed by her breakfast as she emptied her stomach into the sink. Jayce was there, hands on her back as she continued to heave. “I’m fine,” she said again, although she didn’t think either of them believed it.

“You’re fine,” Jayce repeated, his hands going still on her back. “You just need to lay down, okay?” She nodded, following Jayce as he opened the door to her bedroom, peeling back the covers on her bed. He covered her up as soon as she crawled onto the mattress, closing the door and speaking a quiet feel better over her faint coughs.

—

“She needs a hospital,” said a hazy voice as she woke.

“I’m certain it’s just a minor cold or something,” replied a voice she recognized, Jayce’s face coming into view above her as she flitted my eyes open.

“Minor colds don’t have people vomiting and losing consciousness, Councilor.”

“She didn’t—”

She coughed as she woke, and both Jayce and—as she now recognized him—Dr. Haymin, Viktor’s physician, turned their focus on her.

“Dr. Cole, how are you feeling?”

“Fine,” she croaked out, clearing her throat at the sound of her voice and pushing her covers off. It was too hot. She was too hot. “Where’s Viktor?” she asked in her half-consciousness, knowing the last time she’d seen these two men in a room, there had been a third.

“At the lab,” Jayce said after a beat of silence. “I didn’t—he doesn’t need to worry. Right, Doctor?”

Dr. Haymin ignored him, speaking to Y/N instead. “I was just telling Councilor Talis how it might be safest for you in a hospital right now, just while we figure out what’s going on.”

She shook her head. “I’m fine.”

“Dr. Cole—”

“I just needed a bit of rest,” she said, standing and pushing past them into her kitchen. They followed her as she pulled a glass from her cupboard and filled it with water, taking slow, steady sips.

“I’ll stay with her for now, Dr. Haymin,” Jayce said. “If there are any further complications, I’ll take her to the hospital, alright?”

Dr. Haymin looked hesitantly between them before letting out a long sigh. “I want you both to know that in my professional opinion, she should be in a hospital right this minute.”

“I understand,” said Jayce.

Dr. Haymin left with a laundry list of symptoms to look out for, mentioning something about Y/N’s fingers turning blue as Jayce closed the door in his face.

“Alright,” said Jayce, walking back into the kitchen. “So, you’re fine?”

She nodded.

“Great. I’m late for official council business. I’ll come back around dinner time to check back on you. Sound good?”

“Sounds great,” she said, lifting her glass in his direction as he quickly followed in Dr. Haymin’s steps.

—

“I just wanted to apologize, even though my reaction was completely warranted and your behavior was—no, no,” Viktor mumbled to himself, hovering in the hallway outside her apartment. “The way I spoke to you was unacceptable, and I just wanted to apologize. I am obviously still infuriated at you, but I respect you, and I should have shown that, despite your complete dismissal of my autonomy and—no, no, no, no, shit.” He let out a deep breath. “Y/N, I want to be alive, I am happy I am alive, and I am sorry. I know you did what you did out of the goodness of your heart, and I am not mad at you, only at your recklessness—the recklessness Jayce inspired. I’m sorry for yelling, and I hope you can forgive me.”

He nodded sharply to himself before taking the final step to her door and knocking twice. When the seconds ticked by with no answer, he knocked again. “Dr. Cole?” He called. “It’s me, uh, Viktor. I understand if you do not wish to speak with me, but I promise I am not here to fight.” He paused, waiting for her to yell back from the other side telling him to go fuck himself. But there was nothing. “Dr. Cole?”

He tried the handle, and to his surprise, it gave, the door swinging open before him. “Dr. Cole?” He called again, stepping into her sunlit apartment. “Are you here?” Once he passed the threshold, he saw her, collapsed in a heap in front of her kitchen counter.

“Y/N!” He rushed towards her, leaning his cane against the counter and crouching down beside her body, his hand on her back rising with a shaky breath that had him sighing in relief. “Y/N, wake up,” he said softly, turning her over onto her back. His hands stilled at the sight of blood dried along her upper lip, one stream still tacky from her right nostril. “Y/N.” He shook her shoulder, perhaps a little rougher than he’d intended, and she coughed, her eyes flitting open and then squinting shut again at the brightness in the room. “Y/N, what happened?” He asked, the quiver in his voice telling them both that he already had a hypothesis.

“Viktor?” She said, opening her eyes halfway, and he opened his mouth to respond before she was overtaken with a fit of coughs, curling into herself and pressing her mouth into her elbow. “I’m–” cough “fine—” cough “I promise.”

He didn’t respond, he simply took a hold of her hand, straightening out the arm she had been coughing into and peering down at her elbow.

The white fabric was bright red—red like roses, like the roses still blooming in the lab window.

He didn’t even have the strength for another what have you done. He just squeezed his hand tightly around hers and closed his eyes.

“Viktor?”

He was silent for a long while before he responded with a broken sob, his other hand coming up to cover his face as he cried openly. Y/N sat up, wrapping her arm around his back and pulling him into her, their hands still locked together between them.

“I’ll be fine,” she whispered into his shoulder, which only made him cry harder.

“This was not your disease to live with,” he said, pulling back to look at her and speaking aloud what they had both realized by now. “To—to die—”

“Hey,” she said, hand coming up to cradle the side of his face. “It wasn’t yours either. No one deserves this, but I–I am carrying it now, so, just—let it be, okay?”

“I–I should have seen this. You were dehydrated all the time from the plants, and your cough from the-the cat—”

She dipped her head, forcing him to meet her eyes.

“Viktor,” she breathed. “I wouldn’t take it back.”

“I wouldn’t have let you do it,” he said, not in anger, but in a remorse so heavy she didn’t know how he carried it on his own.

She turned away to cough again, and Viktor couldn’t find the strength to yell at her for this. Jayce, he would obliterate the next time he saw him, but not her.

“We should probably get you to a hospital,” he said instead, and she sighed once the coughing fit subsided.

“They can’t–they can’t do anything,” she said softly. “I think I’d just prefer to be here.”

He frowned, but said nothing. Instead, he helped her up and guided her to her bedroom, peeling back the covers much like Jayce had earlier that morning. Except Viktor stayed, pulling an armchair to the side of her bed and sinking into it.

“I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you,” she said through a yawn, pulling the covers up to her chin.

“Don’t apologize, Y/N,” he replied, and she closed her eyes. “I’ll find a way to fix this,” he added, but she had already drifted off.

—

He brought Y/N back to the lab as soon as she was rested enough, and she sat on the bench by the window as he worked, resting her head against the glass. When Jayce arrived a few hours later, he was surprised to see them both there, and at the way Viktor tensed at his friend’s cheery hello, she stood and decided to use this opportune moment to use the bathroom. When she came back there was still muffled yelling through the door and she waited outside, wanting nothing to do with this conflict—even if, in a way, she had caused it. Jayce burst into the hallway a few moments later his eyes wide and red-rimmed.

“Y/N, I’m so sorry. If I had known, I would never—”

“It’s okay, Jayce,” she said, resting her hands on his arms. “We both wanted what was best for him.”

“But, I-I left you,” he choked out in a whisper that made her realize he had definitely not told Viktor that part. “I really believed you were fine, or maybe I was just in denial, I—”

“Hey,” she cut him off. “It’s happened and we can’t take it back. I’m at peace with it, okay? Anything you think you’ve done wrong, I forgive you for.”

Jayce pulled her into him, crushing her in a hug, his chin resting on the top of her head. “I’m still sorry,” he said. She pulled back and smiled at him, before taking a step back towards the door. Jayce took a step in the other direction, faltering for a second as he watched her disappear into the lab.

—

For four hours—maybe five—Viktor tossed theories and possible cures at her, most of which she had already researched herself when Viktor was sick. She explained the downsides, the impossibilities, the potential of rumfish oil, if strained properly. But Viktor had more and more ideas. For every hypothesis she countered, he had another one ready, each more desperate and mad than the last.

“Viktor,” she finally said, cutting off his long-winded explanation of an incident involving tempar eels and a woman cured of heart palpitations. “Can we—save this for tomorrow? I’m tired. I don’t know how you were working all the time, because I’m just—drained. I’d like to have dinner and go to bed, if that’s okay.”

Viktor paused, before nodding slowly. “Of course. I’ll walk you to your room.”

She pulled a jar of soup out of her cabinet once they got back to her apartment, Viktor grabbing a pot and placing it on the stove without a thought. She tried to open the jar, her fingers straining against the lid, but she couldn’t get it to budge. Viktor noticed and quietly came up behind her, reaching out his hands.

“I got it,” she insisted, trying again. And again. Why was this happening? She was young and strong, and she’d never had trouble opening a goddamn jar of soup.

“Y/N, let me—”

“I got it,” she said, sharper than she intended. The shock of her outburst made all anger and spite and will drain out of her quickly, and she slumped, placing the jar in Viktor’s outstretched hands. He turned away towards the stove, and she didn’t even see him open it, but she heard the sound of the liquid filling the pot.

“Sorry.”

“No need for apologies, Dr. Cole,” he said.

Dr. Cole. What happened that he couldn’t call her by her first name, the name she’d grown accustomed to hearing from him? What sort of distance did he need? What sort of space was he trying to restore? Maybe before he had distanced himself because he knew any connection wouldn’t last, that soon enough he’d be dead. And now he knew that soon enough she’d be dead in his place. Dr. Cole, Dr. Cole, Dr. Cole. Both a cruelty and a mercy.

“Where are your bowls?”

She pulled two bowls from the cabinet beside her and walked over to the stove, ignoring his raised eyebrows at the second one. He didn’t protest though, pouring soup into both bowls until the pot was empty.

“Tell me what you’ll do,” she said as he washed their bowls in the sink a little later, the soup resting heavy in their stomachs.

“What?”

“With all this time, this life—what will you do?”

For a moment, she thought he hadn’t heard her, but eventually he turned off the sink, placing the bowls on a towel to dry and turned back towards her.

“I’d had a lot of time to think about how I wanted to die, Dr. Cole,” he said softly. “I didn’t ever consider how I wanted to live.”

“Well consider it now,” she said. “Consider Viktor at forty, at fifty, at seventy-five. What are you doing?”

“Sailing west,” he said almost instantly. “Buying a house on some island in the Morian sea.”

“So you have thought about it.”

He hummed, crossing the kitchen to sit down at the table.

“Would you stay there all year? Or just in the summers?” she asked, sitting down opposite him.

“All year,” he said. “Jayce could send me his theories, and I could send him mine, but I’d never have to hear about the political plights of Piltover. Because this is of course after I have provided plentiful resources to the undercity, and worked tirelessly to erase the stigma surrounding its residents.”

“Of course,” she said. “Any children?”

“Three daughters,” he said, and she chuckled at his certainty. “Alexandra is the oldest, named for her grandmother. And then there’s Danika in the middle, and the youngest, Y/N, named after her—”

Silence swallowed everything around us, enough for the sound of children laughing and beach waves hitting the shore to rise in my mind. A small, curly-haired girl, named for her mother, smiling in my direction. Three children clinging to their father’s arms.

“After her father’s most stubborn employee?”

After another beat of silence, she reached for his hand across the table.

“It was never meant for us, either way,” she said, and he met her eyes. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not,” he said. “Not when I’m the one living to grieve it.”

“Thought you had secured the easy way out, huh?” At her words, he met her eyes with alarm, his gaze quickly softening at the mischief he found there.

“I was counting on it,” he said.

“Well, that’s awfully rude of you,” she said. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you ladies first?”

He smiled, but something flickered out in his eyes. “Let’s not joke about this.” She nodded, and he stood, offering her his hand. “Bed?”

“Bed,” she confirmed, following him to her bedroom and climbing under the covers. He turned to leave and something clenched in her chest. “Viktor?”

He paused. She considered the distance, the Dr. Coles he had given her when he knew he was dying, when he knew any affection he offered would ultimately be ripped away. She thought of his admission, of the future he saw, and the present he had sacrificed selflessly. She thought of how truly good he was, and how she needed to be good too, how she couldn’t ask anything of him, not now. But she didn’t need to, apparently.

He had kicked off his shoes and propped his cane against the nightstand before she asked the question, slipping under the covers without a word.

“You don’t have to—”

“Have me, if you will,” he said, his eyes already closing. As if sightlessly sensing the guilt wracking her face, he continued, “It isn’t selfish, Y/N.” He opened his eyes. “I’ll take any time you’ll give me.”

And so she rolled over and went to sleep.

—

The time she could give him was a month, probably less, according to Dr. Haymin. Viktor had forced her to go to the hospital the next morning—just to see where we stand—and she felt better, oddly, knowing exactly what she had left.

They spent the day at the harbor, and she bought Viktor his first street kebab, laughing at the way he gingerly plucked half-cooked meat from the stick and eyed it with distrust. Y/N spent the night in bed, Viktor spent it in the lab. Jayce and Mel visited her the next day, and Mel brought a bouquet of tulips this time, leaving them on the kitchen table for Viktor to find when he reappeared in her apartment around lunchtime. The circles beneath his eyes and the tired lift of his smile told her he hadn’t found the miracle he’d been looking for. He took her to the art museum, and sat on a bench in the main gallery with her for an hour when she was too tired to keep walking. She invented backstories for all the characters in the portraits, spun creation myths for the landscapes, and Viktor listened. When she fell asleep on his shoulder, he asked an employee if they had a wheelchair available, and then he took her back home. When she crawled into bed, she told him she couldn’t remember where they had been, and he regaled to her her own story of how a fairy grew tired of the nightime and smashed together a thousand stars to make the sun, and that’s why Dialucci could paint the sunrise. She went to sleep, and Viktor stayed with her.

The next morning, she couldn’t get out of bed.

Two mornings after that, she couldn’t keep down any food he tried to give her, and he asked Dr. Haymin to come see her again.

“You have days,” he told Viktor outside her room. “In truth, she could go at any moment.”

“Will you smash some more stars together to make another sun?” She asked when Viktor came back inside her bedroom, the sound of Dr. Haymin closing the front door barely audible. “So it’s daytime for the rest of my life?”

“I’ll do my best.”

She sat up, leaning back against the pillows at the headboard and patted the space before her, beckoning him to sit. He did. “Even if it will dry up the atmosphere and slowly burn the earth to a crisp?”

“Even then.”

She smiled, closing her eyes. “What did he say?”

He scooted back until he was leaning against the pillows as well, opening his arms for her to fall into.

“I’ll name the second sun after you,” he said.

“Okay,” she breathed. “But if it starts killing everybody, rename it.”

He laughed, squeezing his arms tighter around her, letting the silence envelop them both, peaceful and kind for once. “I know you won’t accept an apology,” he said eventually, “But I want to give it nonetheless.”

“Who said I wouldn’t accept an apology?” She pulled back to look at him and he raised his brows. “It all depends on the delivery.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Won’t cut it,” she said, shaking her head.

“You deserved better?”

“Not it.”

“I’ll miss you?”

“Not quite.”

“I love you?”

She paused. “Getting close.”

He lifted his hand, using his finger to brush her hair out of her eyes. When she closed them, he leaned down, the tips of their noses brushing, their breaths meeting in the middle. She was the one to close the distance, but he was the one to kiss her, to press every unspoken thing into her mouth for safekeeping, to take with her wherever she’d go. When she pulled away, there were tears in both their eyes, and her voice cracked when she quietly said, “Apology accepted.”

When Viktor woke up the next morning, the skin of her arm was growing rapidly cold beneath his fingertips, the first rays of light from the one and only sun illuminating the blue-gray color beneath her complexion. He kissed her forehead, and the tip of her nose, and her lips, and her cheek, and her eyelids. “I forgive you too,” he said, her body falling limp against the sheets as he got up.

[artiesartapparels]

Would anyone be interested in reading a short fic about Viktor Hargreeves set after the events of season 3. It would be angsty about him coming to the realization of what he’s done and struggling to cope. Maybe some comfort at the end with some of his siblings realizing how fucked up his mental health is. Idk, I love writing angst for my faves and the urge to do it with tua has been strong 😩😔😔

Would also contain a lot of his feelings on being trans and shit like that :,))

[ficfanatictrf]

The Night Stand (Part 9)

Summary: With the two finally able to relax, a few misconceptions are finally addressed.

Word Count : 3k

Edited and Proofread by nobody A/N : Because everyone literally was so kind and wondering and just filled me with such soft kindness, I kinda ended up being able to write this fairly quickly because I just got excited about writing a super sappy Viktor. I hope you like it.

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

Guiding you by the arm, Viktor was careful to go at a speed that was comfortable for you. With the few days in bed after pregnancy complications, it wasn’t hard to see that you would be tired from everything your body was struggling through. 

At times, he ended up needing to convince you to sit, under the little white lie that his own leg was acting up. If there was one thing he knew about you, it was that if he asked if you needed to rest - you would push on without a care to your own health. However, if he framed it like you would be helping him by taking a break? You would be ready to stop at a moment's notice. 

As soon as you made your way through the apartment door, you found it completely different than the last time you had been there. Granted, that was months ago now, and the situation wasn’t that good as you were being kicked out. 

However, you were sure that there had not been all of the items that you were now seeing. 

Covering nearly every inch of the space were books and toys and half finished inventions. Just from eyeing a couple of the books, they were all parenting books, pregnancy health books, recipe books for babies and even a few baby books that you had never seen before and were in a language you had seen Viktor doodle in a little. 

Then there were the toys, every single one of them either looking like he had hand made them or they were from his own childhood. And as you slowly walked through the room, looking at the inventions that were incomplete, it wasn’t hard to tell that they were little things to make a single parent’s life easier. 

He had been using every waking second it seemed to learn as much as he could. Glancing over at him, you saw that he had rushed off to the kitchen to get you a glass of water - already remembering the countless times he had pushed you to up your intake of water after the news of your pregnancy was out. 

It was clear just how happy and excited he was about this child. 

A deep pang of sadness hit as you looked around the room. 

You hadn’t done this much work…

It made you feel so inadequate. For you, everything had felt like too much, you had hardly been able to think about the next couple of days into the future, much less months. Yet, it was clear that Viktor had thought so far ahead as to have items for when the child was born, when the child was playing, learning. 

And as much as you wanted to enjoy the fact that Viktor was being kind to you, as he ushered you to sit down while placing the glass of water in your hand - for the baby. 

Of course. 

This was all for the baby. 

But, your child deserved a father that loved it. You just wanted your child to be happy, to be loved. Two parents were better than one, especially two parents that adored their child. It just meant that the hopes she had of a wedding, of falling in love, of a marriage she had dreamed of…that would all need to be buried and forgotten. 

Sitting on the couch, you watched as he raced around the room to try and clean it up. All the while, you couldn’t help but remember how he had kicked you out that morning. He might have been affectionate recently, but that still didn’t change the fact that when you weren’t pregnant he wasn’t interested. 

There was a shift in your stomach, a low thump of pain, a pain you knew all too well. With a soft smile, you knew exactly what it was. 

“Viktor, come here” 

Not needing to be asked twice, the man dropped what he was doing - literally dropping the books in his hands to rush to your side. 

Gently coaxing him to sit down, you took his hands into your own before placing them on top of your stomach. 

At first, confusion was written on his face as well as a little bit of worry. 

That was till you saw the shock and then utter joy as he felt the little thing kick. All previous worry washed away as you saw the look you wished that you yourself could give to him. 

You were still in love with him, that much was easy to know…so to see him this happy? Seeing him light up brighter than he ever had before, you supposed this could be enough. 

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

From then on, you remained at Viktor’s home. Things could not be described as anything other than perfect - well, besides the ever present nagging in the back of your mind with him being so in love with this child. Would he push you out? 

It made the most sense, with him knowing everything about the conditions the child had - the diet that he started to prepare for you helping a great deal with some of the symptoms. As well as all the knowledge he had memorized on childcare and pregnancy. There were so many times he would gently remind me of the foods you ‘weren’t allowed to eat’ or the fact that you were picking something up that was outside of the allowable weight limit. 

And as much as you tried to take it with a smile, to tell yourself to just enjoy the soft kisses and affectionate nicknames. You were starting to feel like you were going crazy with worry. 

When he kissed you, it was only your cheek, forehead, hands or stomach. Or like how he started to refer to you more often as the mother of his child, the tone clear that he meant it with affection, but still referred to the child. 

Having already felt like you were doing poorly as an inventor before leaving, now feeling like you couldn’t even do motherhood right - you just weren’t sure what you were meant to do. 

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

Viktor felt like he was living on cloud nine. He had the woman of his dreams living with him, he woke up everyday to her sleeping beside him - sometimes finding himself entranced by just how beautiful she was in the morning light. 

He had made it his mission to give her everything she could want. He would prove that he was a worthy husband, to prove that he would make a good partner for the raising of this child. Before, he made mistake after mistake when it came to how to handle things - but this time he was going to pamper her and shower her with as much help and affection as he could. 

Waking up once more to find her warmth enveloping him, the man found it easier to slip free - but only because he was only leaving so that he could make her breakfast. Referencing the multiple pregnancy books and recipe books he had a go-to list of recipes for every meal on what she should be eating, he made sure that she would be getting all the nutrients that she would need. 

If there was something he was clearly trash at, it was art- yet, he still tried his best to make the plate always look like the picture. He swore he spent nearly half the time trying to plate it as opposed to cooking it. It always just looked like he threw it together. 

Returning to your side, he wasn’t surprised to see you blinking awake as he came in, it was just how the two of you had begun to function together. 

“Goodmorning, did you sleep alright?” 

It was so cute to watch as you sat up, emotionlessly nodding as he knew you were still not fully awake. You never were for at least the first thirty minutes of the day. 

Completely on autopilot, you took the plate from him, slowly munching the food that was presented to you. He had learned that if he gave you a lot of the things you didn’t like early in the day, you would just eat it - leaving lunch and dinner to be times that you got to enjoy foods that you liked more. 

Finishing his own rather quickly, he laid back down with his head on your lap and hand on your belly. 

Gods, he hoped you would pick him when he asked. That you would accept when he proposed, whenever he got up the nerve. He knew that you had gone through a lot and were still likely going through a lot when it came to how the pregnancy made you feel, so he was giving you all the space in the world. However, that didn’t mean that he didn’t look forward to the idea that someday he could take you on dates. 

The idea of the two of you going out on a little boat for the day, just to talk and read. Or to go to your favorite museum, asking you to describe the art exhibits that he knew nothing about or the history pieces about Piltover just to hear you light up about the different events in the past. 

“My miracle baby” He whispered, pressing a soft kiss to your stomach. 

This truly was a miracle baby. It was to bring together everything he had ever wanted and hoped for, thinking that it was all impossible. He was about to have a child with the one he was in love with? A child he had assumed growing up he would never be able to have because nobody would want him, no woman would ever choose him. And even if he ever did find someone who did, what if he wasn’t able to impregnate her? With all of the health issues he had grown up with, it wouldn’t be unreasonable to think that he was…infertile. 

Then after he reacted so horribly to everything, thinking he ruined absolutely everything with the love of his life? This child came into the picture to give him a second chance at winning her heart. He just needed to prove that he was a good option, that her choosing to stay with him would be in her best interest. 

He had always needed to do that, to prove that he had something the other could use. 

A frown slowly bloomed, his own nervousness starting to grow as he looked at where he assumed the child was. 

Hopefully this child would love him. He had never experienced much of the way of familial love. That unconditional love and care, the love you have in a family. Where he wouldn’t have to earn someone’s affection, wouldn’t feel the need to bend over backwards for someone to choose him. 

“Viktor….can I…um- can we talk, finally?” 

Snapping him out of his own thoughts, the man was quick to sit up to give you his full attention. Hands reaching out to remove your now empty plate and set it aside for you. 

“Of course. What would you like to start with?” 

Silence stretched out between the two of you for a long while, like you were scared of how he would react to the question in the front of your mind. 

And like he had been trying to do for the past couple days, he decided to go first to ease some of your anxiety. 

“How about I start? Hmm?” After receiving a soft nod, a nervous chuckle was released before he started from where he knew he needed some clarification at. 

“When you said the other night about how you had wanted to sleep with me, that you had gotten intoxicated with the intention of trying to sleep with me. Does that mean….do you have feelings, affectionate feelings, for me?” 

He felt childish as he did it, but he found himself panicking - his eyes squeezing shut as he waited for you to deny his hope. However, as he waited for you to speak, he had not expected to suddenly find his senses completely overtaken with you. 

With his cheeks cradled in your hands, the touch soft and gently, to your lips on his that were soft and - damn it - so sweet. He didn’t even care that you hadn’t really answered the question as he instantly allowed himself to be used however you wished. 

“Yes” 

The answer came, breathless and soft, the perfect kiss being ended by the simplest and most beautiful answer to his ears. 

“Y-yes? You…you care for me?” 

He watched a smile grow on your own cheeks, giggles bubbling up from within. 

“Yes. I care for you. Viktor, I have been in love with you since the day you held me when I cried in your arms at that gala” 

Time seemed to stand still, his mind racing to calculate just how much time that had been ago as well as the very fact that it was the same event that had started his attraction to you. 

“...t-that…that is the same for me…” 

As you both stared at each other, it seemed that the two of you slowly started to see the events from the other perspective. 

With Viktor’s knowledge of you, it made sense how you had wanted to give him space - seeing as you had always been able to read him so well. Putting him on the spot never worked, so you always would allow him to go at his pace. Which is why he had assumed you hadn’t cared. 

And then you, finally aware of Viktor’s past, his desire to give a child the best option as well as his incorrect thinking that you were so far out of his league. It made sense why he had always kept you at arm's length. Like he was trying to keep a distance between you too so that he wouldn’t ‘fall for someone he couldn’t have’. 

“....if I wasn’t pregnant….would you still love me?” 

It was the only question you still needed answered, the one that you were scared to death of him breaking your heart over. 

Yet, instead of shock or anger - you only saw a sad understanding as he moved closer, taking your hands into his own. 

“My dear, I loved you before we ever spent a night together. Yes, I would still love you. I may have never pursued you, may have never allowed myself to admit it. But it would have been true, I would have loved you regardless.” 

Kissing the tears that were soon dotting your cheeks, you soon found yourself clinging to him. 

“W-why do you keep thinking you are less than me…Viktor, you are far better than anything I could ever be. A better parent, a better inventor, a better cook…you know so much more about pregnancy and you aren’t even pregnant!” 

To say he was confused would have been an understatement, the man having thought what he was doing was to be expected. Wasn’t that his job as a potential husband? To provide and protect? Wasn’t this expected from someone who ‘provided’? 

“..I was…I simply was trying to prove that I could be an adequate father. Is it too much? Am I not doing something I am supposed to be doing?” 

Still in tears, you couldn’t help but laugh, moving even closer. With your hands cradling his face, with all the care in the world, you couldn’t help but laugh at his assumption. 

“Viktor. To me you are perfect, beyond perfect. Even with how much of a work-a-holic you are, how rude you can be at times, how single minded you can be on some topics..” 

You could see the hint of an amused sort of glare, the same he would always direct at Jayce when they were teasing each other. 

“Even at your worst, you are still the best I’ve ever encountered. Viktor, for me it has always been you. I don’t care where you are from, I don’t care about the fact you don’t have a name. None of those things matter to me.” 

It was his turn to cry, only a handful slipping free before he was looking away to try and calm his heart. 

“Y-you are only saying that because…because of the baby..” He whispered, though you could see from the growing blush on his face that he didn’t even believe that himself. 

“Yeah, sure, the baby can somehow send signals to my brain telling me that I must love you.” 

As his face only steadily grew darker, you knew that despite his words - what you said was heard and understood. 

With the two of you sitting in silence, it was only broken by the kicking once more - the two of you whispering soft words of love and adoration to the child inside.

“Do you think it will be a boy or a girl?”  You found yourself asking, Viktor taking the question far too seriously as he sat up to contemplate the answer. After a few minutes you couldn’t help but groan and push him, trying to break him out of his train of thought. 

“I was just thinking about names for the baby. I wasn’t really asking which you wanted. Goodness. Single minded for sure” 

“Rio” 

Blinking, you stopped your half hearted pushing to take in what he said. The name would work for both a boy or a girl, allowing it to be a perfect name for whatever they were to have. And from the very few conversations about his past - you knew a little about how important the name was to him. 

“Alright, Rio. Our little baby Rio”

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

Taglist : @cheeriecherrymain@fairy-writes@thehistoriangirl@aikoiya@piperdoodles@alternate-simp@luixiv@linky-dinks@bruh-anator3000@somethingthatsaysbubbles@graveyard0ghoul@vigilentballofpassion@nunyabeeswaxsblog

[sissytobitch10seconds]

Fear is a Powerful Thing

Fandom: The Umbrella Academy Summary: They've all struggled with intrusive thoughts, their father said a lot of things that turned their minds into breeding grounds for them. Somehow, they thought that their little brother had somehow managed to escape it. Warnings: Mentions of self-harm, mental illness, mentions of canon-typical child abuse, and self-medicating Word Count: 6,923 Ship(s): Viktor Hargreeves & Everyone

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A/N: We're back writing things that are super self-indulgent stuff! I hope that you guys want some more Viktor angst because I always have more. Stay sissy and bitchy everyone <3

It was almost comforting, when he started taking his pills again.

The nightmares had started a few days after he had come back to his apartment. He didn’t know if Reginald had been messy when he was rewriting what he wanted to be changed after the universe reset or if he had purposefully woven a place for them into it, but they had all found that they had lives. 

Luther was able to get a job as an aerospace engineer and had an apartment where he and Sloane lived together. Diego worked for the local police department and lived with Lila and both of their children. Allison was a famous movie star and had both her husband and child, but that hadn’t really been a surprise. Klaus worked as a yoga instructor in Dallas with a husband that none of them had ever met but he had been very attached to, according to Ben. Five had a name and a place that he worked at a university, as well as a body that matched the age that the rest of his siblings were at. Ben himself had his memories from the original timeline and the one after that, likely by accident, and worked as a librarian with a girlfriend named Jill who worked as a lawyer. All of the Sparrows also had lives and remembered who they had been before, though it took a bit of convincing to make them believe how they had gotten there.

Viktor had what he had before. He worked for the Icarus Theater and had been stuck at third chair for several years. He tutored kids in his home and at their own. He had an apartment that was so run down and shoddy that he didn’t even bother putting locks on the windows because he had nothing that was worth stealing. Thankfully, the one thing that had changed was the name that he had chosen and the gender that he identified as. People referred to him by his chosen name and preferred pronouns because he had begun his transition earlier in that universe than he had in the one before it. His apartment was also missing the blood-stain soaking into the hardwood and his life was missing the murderous stalker boyfriend.

He didn’t bother to change anything when he got back, not in the beginning, because so much about his day-to-day had already shifted. He had learned that vast parts of his life had been a lie that he had been fed so that he was easier to control. On top of that, he had realized that he was in love with someone that he was apparently not allowed to have the way that so many other people had been given the people that they loved. Even Five seemed to have gotten a human version of Dolores, but Viktor had no one.

He tried not to mind it at first. He was able to try out for the second chair in his orchestra when the yearly renewal came around and actually made it. His siblings were making more of an effort in his life than they ever had before, which he was so ecstatic for.

Then he had begun to have the nightmares. They were near constant and got worse as time went on. They ranged anywhere from him being trapped in the room deep under the Academy that didn’t exist anymore, screaming for someone to let him out, to him standing on the Icarus Theater stage while trying to kill everyone in the audience in a fit of uncontrollable power.

Every time he had one, he woke up with his chest heaving and his entire body drenched in sweat. He had thought about going to a therapist but was terrified that it would get him diagnosed with something that he didn’t have or wouldn’t help because he wouldn’t be able to tell them explicitly where the fear was coming from. He knew enough from his past therapy sessions as a wet-behind-the-ears college student to know that it was type of PTSD or anxiety, though.

He lived with them for a long time, before the voice of his father and the Handler began to speak to him whenever he tried to drift off. They told him horrible things about how he was dangerous, how he should only be used as a bomb, what uselessness he was when he wasn’t being utilized for his true purpose. The thing that had stuck out to him the most was actually a line that he had seen one night on a show he had just turned on to drown out his mind. 

You’re family loves you, but they also fear you.

It struck him deep in his belly, but he was able to brush it off because their powers were gone. Then one day, when he was sitting in rehearsals for his upcoming show, it had felt like his ears were popping and everything in the entire world became clearer. He could almost feel the frequency of the vibrations that each instrument made as it pushed the air around it away. He could hear just like he had been able to back when he was on the farm and his powers were returning back to him, just as distinctly as he could down in the basement.

That night when he had gotten home, his phone had gone off with a million texts from his siblings informing him that they experienced the same things. Diego had swum without coming up for a half hour without even realizing it until one of the other people in the gym freaked out. Luther had smashed three pens before he had exerted the control that he had back when he had his powers. Sloane had naturally flipped something upside down before she realized that it was clinging to the ceiling. Five had teleported to the other side of his, thankfully empty, classroom and then back before Dolores had called him out on it. Klaus was hearing the voices again.

Their powers were back.

It was a terrifying revelation to have, especially since the nightmares had been haunting him for far longer than that. Some parts of it were reassuring because they brought with them things that he hadn’t realized truly ordinary people couldn’t have. Those were all immediately overshadowed when he remembered the world-ending doom that he had caused without that much effort.

With those memories hanging heavy in his heart, it seemed like the practical option to seek out the man who had put a stop to all of it the last time he had them. Reginald was easy to find but very hard to get an appointment with, unless that person was Viktor.

It was apparently very important to the man that had given them their powers in the first place to make sure that they didn’t stir up trouble. Viktor was able to meet with him and explain the situation only a day after contacting Reginald’s main business email and secretary. Two days after that, he had a new prescription filled with the same medication that he had taken his entire adolescence and adult life.

Despite having sought the pills out himself, he was still a little nervous to take them when he actually had the orange bottle clenched in his hands. He remembered what it felt like to be on the sedative, the exhaustion that had clung to every part of his body and weighed him down closer to sleep or death, whichever came first. Accessing his own emotions had been like knocking on a brick wall and hoping that somewhere, something would be loose or trigger a door that would let him in. He could feel that they were on the other side of that wall but he was completely unable to get to them.

The hum of the power, the urge to turn every sound that passed into his brain to blazing white energy, was laying just underneath his skin at all times. The first pill dulled it so that it was almost a memory of a feeling, but the more that he took the further and further away he got from his powers. Just as they had last time, with his powers went his emotions. He tried to maintain the personality that he had developed when he was off of his medication so that no one would notice what had happened, but he knew that there was a rather poignant change.

The riskiest part of going back on the medication was his siblings finding out. It had been easy enough to hide his powers back before he had been on the sedative again. He probably should have at least confided in Five that he felt the changes coming, but he couldn’t bring himself to force the words from his throat. Every time that he tried they got caught and he felt like he was drowning. He was half terrified that it would result in another end of the world if he were to mention anything about his powers or his siblings would try to trap him in the basement again.

So instead of letting anyone know that they had returned, he kept it all to himself. He knew that the end of the world couldn’t come if he couldn’t access the massive star living in his chest, so he didn’t worry about that anymore. He also knew that the medication was strong enough that it would cause a change to his personality that his siblings might be able to notice. The closer that they got to their monthly get together, the more he was banking on their lack of presence in his life to hide what he had done. He wasn’t sure what their reaction would be to him medicating himself, but their reaction to other secrets of his had been bad enough that he just didn’t want to deal with it in general.

The worry was enough to make him almost feel awake when the day of their get together rolled around. He was puttering around his apartment while trying to remember everything that he needed for the activity.

Finally, he got his thoughts together enough to remember that he needed his bag and the kinds of things that had to go in it. He had taken to carrying his car and apartment keys on his lanyard because he kept losing the little keyring that he had them on before. He had also moved the little stuffed animal that one of his students had given him for his birthday the year before onto it, which helped him remember that he needed it.

The next thing that he put into his bag was a full waterbottle. He chucked a couple of granola bars into it as well, just in case he got hungry, which he knew that he wouldn’t. That was another thing that he was struggling with when it came to the medication that he was taking. He hadn’t realized just how much it had killed his appetite until he was swinging wildly between the hunger that the testosterone gave him and the lack of appetite that the sedative was plaguing him with. He managed to stuff enough into his body when he wasn’t hungry that he wasn’t wasting away, but he also wasn’t thriving the way that he had been before he had started taking it again.

Now that his backpack was full of the things that he would need, he slung it over his back and then started on his way. He had moved into another apartment when he found that the one still waiting for him after they returned to the new world had too many memories. He had enough money in his orchestra and teaching that he could afford something small in another neighborhood. He probably should have looked for something a bit bigger even if it would have been more expensive because he got a little stir-crazy in his current studio.

He walked as briskly as his tired limbs could move him down the hall to the elevator. When he stepped inside, he clung to the railing and took deep breaths to try and soothe the anxiety that was living in his chest. Despite the fact that all of his emotions were numbed by the medication that he was on, he still managed to get triggered by small, enclosed spaces almost every time he stepped foot inside one of them.

The doors opened into the parking garage and he darted out of the space as quickly as he could. His car was parked in the spot that was reserved for his apartment number, just as it always was. He got inside and and started it up before he sat there for a moment. 

Viktor knew that he had to go to the check in with his family, it was the only way to make sure that they wouldn’t worry about him or become suspicious of what he was doing in his life. But he was so tired and worn out from just being alive, enough that he wasn’t sure he had the energy to navigate any kind of social situation.

After quite a while of hyping himself up to be able to handle a whole day with his siblings, he began to maneuver the car out of the parking garage. He was able to drive despite the sedative rushing through his system because he had been navigating it his entire life. It was something that had scared him when he had first started taking it since he had never known the freedom of being able to drive himself wherever he wanted before he had gone back in time to the sixties.

Viktor arrived at the park that his siblings had agreed to meet up at five minutes after the specified time. He had tried his best to be on time, but he had managed to miss the turn that would have led him to the park and had to double back. He usually tried to factor in the mess-ups that he was no doubt going to make, but he was so exhausted that day that there was no hope for him.

He pulled himself out of his car after making sure that everything that was supposed to be in his pack was, in fact, where he had put it before he had left the house. He walked slowly over the vast field of green while trying to spot the group of people that he was meant to be meeting up with. This meeting was just for the Umbrellas, which meant that all spouses and children had to be left behind. Viktor was the only one that was still on his own, so he didn’t have to worry about that.

He finally managed to spot them under the shade of one of the massive pine trees while sitting on a blanket that Sloane had no doubt packed for Luther. He changed his trajectory so that he was pointed more towards them and away from the straight-through path. By the time that they were really in his view, his shoulders had hunched down and he had shoved his hands into his pockets so that he didn’t have to think about what was happening as hard. The habit that he had formed as an adult in the first universe had returned to him after he had started taking his meds again. He kept the sedatives in his pocket just in case he had to take another one, which meant that his fingers were toying with the lid of the cap.

“Viktor!” Klaus shouted when he finally spotted the missing brother. He sat up on his knees and waved his hand above his head as high as he could reach.

It was strange to see his brother that excited without being on drugs, but Dave was doing wonderful things for him. Viktor wondered what his life would have been like if he had been given Sissy and Harlan the way that everyone else had been given their loves.

Awkwardly, he pulled his hand from his pocket while remembering to leave the pill bottle where it was nestled and then waved shyly back. He felt as though he was an outsider again, looking into a group that he knew that he was never going to be a part of. 

“You’re late,” Ben noted with a rather annoyed expression. It was odd having someone that was so close to the brother that he had remembered from when he was sixteen but also someone so different.

“I know, I got kind of lost, sorry,” he apologized. He was trying to make sure that his voice was loud enough to be heard but he felt like something was holding his entire being down into his tiny body so that he took up no space.

“It’s not a big deal,” Luther immediately soothed. Since his marriage and long-lasting relationship with Sloane, he had become a peace keeper in the family instead of the one that started more fights than one person could reasonably finish.

Viktor carefully navigated himself so that he was between Five and Allison, the only open spot on the blanket, and then sat down. He pulled at the loose threads and ties of the quilt with his fingers to give himself something to do that wouldn’t bring attention to the heavy sedatives resting against his leg. 

“Now that we’re all here, we can begin the meeting!” Allison said as she clapped her hands in front of her.

Five rolled his eyes, “It’s not an official meeting. It’s just us checking in on each other.” He had his arms folded over his chest and looked very sullen, which was typical for him when his wife wasn’t around him. Viktor wanted to have the love that his siblings had been blessed with so desperately that it ached in his chest.

“Be nice, Five,” Allison growled. Things had leveled out after they had reunited with her, but there was still this feral anger that lived inside of her after everything that she had been through and all that she had lost. The tension in the air around them intensified for only a second before she continued, “We need to do the normal checks and then we can just hang out.”

“Should we go in number order?” Klaus asked as he laid back on the grass to begin weaving some of the long green strands together with his lanky fingers.

“No,” Diego and Luther immediately said at the same time. The two of them had grown remarkably closer to each other since they had all returned to the new world, which was both wonderful and confusing for the rest of the siblings. They had absolutely hated each other when they were growing up and afterwards because of the constructed competition that Reginald had fostered between them.

“We’re going in clockwise order. I’ll start,” Allison said as she placed a hand on her chest. “Things have been going very well for me. I still have to deal with people from Reginald’s business since he owns the company that shoots my movies but I haven’t seen him or his wife. My husband still knows about the old life that we had in the sixties but he doesn’t seem to be struggling with keeping up with the future anymore. My powers have come back as strong as they were when I was sixteen. Claire isn’t having any flairs of power or anything.”

The person to her right was Five, so he started as soon as she had finished. “I haven’t had to deal with Reginald at all. I’m still working at the university and no one seems to be doubting my credentials or my place in the world. I haven’t seen any signs of time anomalies or changes in the timeline that imply that the Commission is still around. Dolores remembers our time in the apocalypse, but is acclimating to this universe as well. My powers are stronger than they were when I was sixteen, likely because I actually have proper time to practice and nutrition this time around.”

Diego was next, “Stanley remembers his mother and spending time with her but doesn’t really seem to care about all of the changes from the new universe. Lila has her powers back but we’ve only been able to test them on me so we’re not sure how powerful they are compared to when she fought us back in Dallas. I’m able to manipulate the trajectory of things that I throw and hold my breath for up to an hour now. Chrys doesn’t seem to be showing any signs of power either even though she came from two people with powers.”

“Are you implying that my daughter is less likely to develop powers because Patrick didn’t have any?” Allison asked, sounding rather put out about the whole situation. Viktor briefly wondered why she would want her daughter to be saddled with the curse that they were burdened with, before he remembered that the rest of the siblings all appreciated their powers as a gift instead of something that they had to learn to live around. Viktor’s powers were so much more intense and less contained than everyone else’s and that made it intensely harder to deal with them in an affectionate way.

“Do you really want Claire to have the ability to manipulate people with her words? I think that it would be really beneficial to Chrys to be able to hold her breath or copy other people’s powers so that she could protect herself,” Diego retorted. 

“Claire would just be protecting herself too!” Allison argued.

“Or she could turn out to be like you,” Five snarked.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

Tensions were already rising in the group and suddenly Viktor felt even more tired than he had before. He wondered if he was getting sick, because he had felt like he did in that current moment back when he had gotten the flu at twenty five. It had resulted in him having to be hospitalized because he hadn’t realized that he was sick until he was running a one-hundred-and-two degree fever. Luckily he knew the warning signs of it this time and would be able to go home and sleep for the rest of the day once it was all over.

“Can you guys murder each other after I’ve gotten the chance to talk about my husband?” Klaus asked lazily. Five and Allison stared at each other for a moment longer before they finally conceded that there wouldn’t be any murder on that particular outing.

After Diego came Luther. “Sloane has the same amount of power that she had last time. I think that it was easier for the Sparrows to have their powers come back because they were using them in a hero capacity all the way up until the Kugelblitz killed them in the other universe. Sloane says that none of her siblings have really been struggling with getting their powers back up to where they were before.”

“You’re supposed to be talking about how you are as an Umbrella, not a Sparrow. I had to go to their stupid meeting last week,” Ben groused.

“Everyone else gets to talk about their spouse!” Luther huffed.

If his mind hadn’t been so hazy with his medication, Viktor would have likely felt very put out by that statement. He missed Harlan and Sissy almost every day and wanted nothing more than to be held in the arms of the woman that he cherished more than he did his own life. But she was off in another time, in another universe, living with a husband that would never truly appreciate her.

After a few more sly comments back and forth, they finally settled back into their pattern. “Anyways, like I was saying. I’ve noticed that more of my powers are coming back but they’re kind of developing differently than they did before. I’m not as strong as I was back then but I am more durable, especially without the whole… experiment thing.”

Klaus reached over and placed a hand on his brother’s arm to comfort him. Viktor wished that he could have been in the place to do that, but he knew that he wasn’t. 

“My life has been wonderful!” Klaus declared after he had finished comforting his brother to his own standards. “Dave remembers our original life back in Vietnam and not what happened in the sixties. He is taking everything in great stride which I expected after what he saw me do back when we were at war. My powers are back too but I can handle them so much better now thanks to Daddy Dearest. Do you think that he had that in mind when he was making me die over and over again?”

“Wait, are the powers that you’ve been testing the ghost ones or the ones that help you come back to life?” Diego asked, worry lacing his tone.

“I don’t test the resurrection all that often because it stresses Dave out,” Klaus said dismissively as he waved his once-again tattooed hand at his brother.

Ben went next, before the two of them had the chance to strike up another off-topic conversation. “Jill remembers what it was like to be back in Klaus’ cult and she remembers the brief time that we spent together. Things are a little more rocky for me because I have the Umbrella and the Sparrow timeline together in my head, but I’m working through it. Like Luther said earlier, it was easier for me to get a hang of the powers again because I was able to actually use them instead of being dead for almost fourteen years before I realized I could still open the portal.”

“Is that everyone?” Allison asked as she looked around at her siblings. They glanced back and forth at each other with small nods of confirmation to let her know that they had already gone.

Klaus than gave a dramatic gasp as he stretched his arms above his head again and then pointed towards his brother. “We forgot little Viktor!”

“There isn’t anything for me to say,” he shrugged. “I don’t have anyone from the past. Sissy and Harlan don’t exist in the modern universe that I can see. I haven’t seen any sign of Le-Harold either,” he corrected himself halfway through. He didn’t like to talk about his previous romantic interests because it brought up a lot of very painful memories that he hadn’t had the chance to really process. He was also worried that if he reminded the others about what he had done and the person that he had almost become then they would turn against him and make his life more miserable than it already was.

“What about powers?” Allison asked, turning to look at him warily.

Viktor felt a pang of hurt at that. Back when they were originally reconnecting after their father’s alleged death, the two of them had been making good strides in their progress of reconnecting. When they were back in the sixties she had enough time to heal so that they were even closer than either of them had ever dreamed that they would be. They felt genuinely like siblings when they were in the Sparrow’s timeline, all the way up until Harlan came into the picture and everything began to crumble for Viktor again. He wanted them to be like they were before, like they were siblings that cared for and loved each other, but he knew that was a futile dream.

Allison had been hurt worst by his powers and everyone knew that. She still had the stark scar on her throat that had caused her to be mute for the better part of two years and almost killed her. She had almost lost both her husband and her daughter because Viktor had accidentally given his powers to someone that couldn’t handle them, not that he was particularly good at wielding them either.

“Nothing,” he answered quietly. He felt bad for lying to them, but it was the truth. They didn’t need to know that the white light had come pouring into his apartment the first time that they had gotten a thunderstorm after a year in the new universe. They didn’t need to know that he had sought out their father so that the medication he had been doped up on could come back into his possession. They didn’t need to know any of that because they were so happy and he couldn’t bear to take that from them. None of them had even noticed the change in his behavior since the last time that they had interacted at one of their monthly meetings.

The conversation veered off again as Diego and Allison went to talking about what it was like to be parents. Ben and Klaus were arguing about something that had happened with Jill back when they were in the sixties. Five had pulled out his phone and was no doubt talking to his wife since the two of them were basically inseparable. Luther was the only one that hadn’t become occupied with something else and was looking towards Viktor. It didn’t last long because Ben got him involved in the conversation with Klaus, which had moved to something related to the Sparrows.

Viktor stayed for another ten minutes before he hauled himself to his feet and silently slipped away from the rest of the group. He was going unnoticed much like he had when he had left class early back when they were in the Academy.

The drive was completely silent because he couldn’t even be bothered to connect his phone to the Bluetooth speakers for music. Music was the only thing that made him feel anything anymore, but he was so exhausted from the stress of hiding his powers from his siblings that he couldn’t even bring himself to do something that brought him more joy than anything else did.

They all had jobs that they enjoyed, spouses and children that they had gotten during their adventures and adored, but Viktor had been given none of that. It was easier to sit with when he didn’t have to worry about ripping it from them because he didn’t know how to control himself.

When he got back to his apartment, he fell down onto his couch and passed out without a second though. Sleep brought him the bliss of non-hazy thoughts and a heart that wasn’t constantly thrumming through his body with anxiety.

---

Hours had passed when he woke up to the sound of someone knocking on his door. The sun was already beginning to set over the glittering skyline, which captured Viktor’s attention when he was brought out of the comforting warmth of sleep. He stared out of the grand windows on either side of his fireplace where his television was mounted until there was another loud knock.

“Coming!” he shouted. He hauled himself off of the couch and then opened the door to reveal two of his brothers standing there with worried looks on their faces. The dose of his medication that he had taken with his meager breakfast that morning was beginning to wear off so he only blinked at them for a second before he asked, “Can I help you?”

“Viktor, what’s going on?” Five said instead of answering his brother’s question. He had always been the most blunt and to-the-point out of all of their siblings, which Viktor almost appreciated in that moment. His brain was still foggy enough that he wasn’t entirely able to piece together why they would be there if they were going to give him strange roundabout hints the way that Allison would.

“I’m taking a nap in my apartment?” he answered, confused and tired.

Luther placed a hand on Five’s shoulder to try and soothe some of the anger that was obviously brewing just under the surface of the shorter man. Five had always been like that, full of a feral rage that could be directed towards things but if it wasn’t then it exploded everywhere. Usually, when Viktor had seen it before, it was to protect him from their siblings or to get him to stop doing something stupid. He wondered what it was about this time.

He snapped from his thoughts when Luther asked, “Do you think that we could come in?”

“Oh yeah, of course,” he nodded and stepped aside. He didn’t even think about the fact that before he had taken his nap, he had fished his pills out of his pocket and tossed them haphazardly onto the table so that he wouldn’t break them. It had been so long since someone had come to visit him in his home that it didn’t occur to him that could be something that they would see or something that he had to hide from them. 

Slowly, he closed the door behind them after they had come into his apartment. They were looking around the room and into the hallway that led to his bedroom and bathroom. The place was messier than he usually kept it because when on the sedative he rarely had the willpower to keep it clean. It wasn’t disgusting because he also didn’t have the energy to make a mess with dirty plates and laundry, though. “Why are you here again?” he asked nervously. His brain was beginning to clear after all of the sleep he had gotten that day and the anxiety of having his brothers around for unknown reasons.

Five stepped around the couch and grabbed the orange bottle just as Viktor realized that it was there. The smaller man flung himself around the furniture and tried to grab for it but Five was far taller than him now that he was an adult. All the other man had to do was hold it above his head and Viktor was unable to regain his property. “Five, that’s mine!” he crowed, feeling every bit the thirteen-year-old that he had been the last time that they were truly best friends.

“What is this, Viktor?” Five demanded, his eyes feral and intense in a way that Viktor hadn’t seen since Diego had accidentally stabbed him all the way through his arm after Reginald had Viktor help with training.

“It’s personal,” he answered. He stepped back and stared down his brother petulantly.

Luther stepped behind Five and snatched the bottle from him to read it over. “Isn’t this a sedative? I’ve seen it being used for people with anxiety in Jayme’s textbooks,” he commented. Jayme was studying to be a pharmacist since that was apparently what she had wanted to be if she didn’t have to be a superhero. They had the freedom to do what they wanted now, and the Sparrows were taking full advantage of that.

“Why would you need a sedative?” Five asked, whirling between his brothers like if he looked away from one of them for too long then he was going to lose them both.

Viktor felt guilt overwhelm him like a riptide. He hated lying to his siblings, he hated lying in general since it was the only thing that their father had done to them all the way throughout their childhood. He had wanted to tell them the truth but had believed that it was too risky.

He bowed his head so that he was staring down at his shoes. He had been wearing the same pair of jeans for the last week and had only managed to change his shirt from that weekend because he knew he was going to be seeing his siblings. He had been wearing his binder for days without respite because he was so numb that he could barely feel the way that it was constricting his ribs. He knew that his hair was growing out and becoming shaggy over his forehead because he could no longer be bothered to cut it like he had before his powers returned. He looked a mess and he felt like one too. The only emotions that he was able to access around the medical depression were anxiety and guilt, both of which were taking turns washing over him like the worst ocean he had ever gotten trapped in.

“Viktor…” Luther whispered when he realized what the sedative was being used for.

“What are you doing?” Five demanded. His eyes were wide with that feral protectiveness, and suddenly Viktor realized that he had that look on his face when he was outside in reference to Viktor and what was happening with him.

Your family may love you, but they also fear you.

“What I have to do,” he replied, feeling suddenly like a caged animal and spewing forth the defensiveness that came with that.

Luther set the bottle of little white pills down on the table and moved so that he was standing beside his brother. Five and Luther both towered over the violinist, which made him feel so small and vulnerable. He reminded himself that it was a good thing for him to feel like that because that meant that he couldn’t hurt anyone.

The silence hung heavy in the air as the other two had a silent conversation that Viktor wasn’t privy to. Finally, Luther asked, “Your powers are back, aren’t they?”

“Of course they are! It wouldn’t make any sense to give someone like Allison and Five their powers back but not have them come back to me too. If Reginald wanted to actually nerf us then he would have made sure that none of our powers were able to come back,” he ranted. The medication had worn off enough that he was feeling more like himself and able to think in a coherent line, no longer stuffed down into the tiny box that had been made for him when he was a teenager. 

He bowed his head and tried to stop the tears that were already streaming down his face. “But I’m actually dangerous. Allison rarely ever did something that could hurt someone the same way that I did. I make shit decisions and I put people in danger so I went to Reginald so that he would make the meds and dose me with them. I’m protecting all of you.”

“Do you really think that you’re capable of hurting us?” Five asked, almost like it was a joke.

“I almost killed you in Dallas when you threatened to take me from Sissy,” Viktor deadpanned. Thinking of her made his heart ache something fierce, now that his emotions were slowly bleeding back into his body.

“No, you threatened me. We both stood down at the same time. I know that nothing you did was ever actually intended to hurt us. When you cut Allison’s throat it was because you had just been reminded of something deeply traumatic while being abused by Harold. It was the same kind of accident that made Ben give Diego that scar on his cheek. If we hadn’t locked you in the basement then it’s unlikely you would have started the apocalypse either. We’re just as much at fault for what happened as you are,” Five explained like it was obvious.

“I’m dangerous, Five. I know that you’re all scared of my powers coming back,” he shook his head.

Luther spoke up before either of his brothers could start another long-winded rant, “I think we’re more scared of losing our little brother.”

That hung heavier in the air than the admission that his powers had returned. It hadn’t even occurred to him that they had actually noticed the abrupt change in his behavior, he had been trying so hard to ease himself back into the person that he had been before so they wouldn’t notice. He had assumed that if there were any slip-ups then no one would pick up on it because they had barely paid him any mind in the last universe.

“Viktor, you’re our brother and we love you. We want you to be yourself, super dangerous powers and all,” Five smiled like he used to when he and Viktor were sneaking around their childhood home. “Please stop taking these and don’t go back to that bastard again. Nothing he did was ever in our best interest, the pills included.”

“Can I… Can I keep them just in case?” he requested after nodding in agreement to what his brother had asked of him.

Luther stuck the bottle into his pocket and shook his head. “There isn’t going to be a ‘just in case’. You’re going to learn how to control your powers just like the rest of us are doing again. And I’m going to tell the others what you did so that they can help me hold you accountable. We love you, Viktor.”

“He’s right, for once,” Five nodded. Slowly, like he was approaching a wild animal, he wrapped the smaller man up in a hug. Viktor fell into it like he was a drowning man and Five was air. 

It felt as though his luck wasn’t quite running out and his powers weren’t as volatile as he had thought they were. He was going to get through whatever danger he possessed with the help of his brothers and without the manipulation from his father. He clearly didn’t want to be on them if it took that little argument from them anyway.

[flower-blossoms654]

“Jayce will understand.”

And he did and he did and he did and he did.

[whispersofbees]

i posted this like 2.5 years ago when i finished watching S1 of arcane for the first time… now that S2 has released i think i should actually write it because i completely forgot about it 😅 sorry for edging all of you for the past couple of years LMAO

college has been keeping me super busy but i promise i’m cooking up some stuff! 🙏🏻

also, you can find an updated link to my masterlist here since the original one above is broken!

A/N: this was a request i got so hopefully i did it justice! this whole concept was honestly so cool to write about and i think it's safe to say i'm attached 😭 i have so much planned for this series so get ready!

this prologue is a major wip so it's subject to change and undergo lots and lots of editing, but i just wanted to post it now to see what you guys thought about it before anything else :)

masterlist

Forget-Me-Not — Prologue

Viktor x Ionian!Reader

You had always known that Viktor would be your undoing.

You knew it the very moment you first saw each other as children, both impossibly lost and alone and curious about the other.

You knew it when you watched him smile softly to himself upon the discovery that his toy boat worked as it sailed defiantly down the small river, colorful with toxins. You had meekly followed him as the little contraption traveled along the water, laughing as it picked up speed, before suddenly flinging your body out to catch the boy before he fell to the ground when you noticed him stumble. The look he gave you afterwards told you everything you needed to know: "I have no idea who you are, but I think I'd like to be your friend now."

You knew it when you heard him speak for the first time, words gentle yet blunt and rich with an accent in a language you couldn't understand. And when he taught you how to speak as he did, patient and understanding and excited when you made progress and could communicate back, you knew it.

You knew it when he tenderly pressed bandages to the scrapes on your knees after you stumbled while dancing and scolded you for not paying more attention. Once he was satisfied with his handiwork, he'd kiss each bandage "just to make sure it heals faster," like his mother would do to him.

You knew it when you watched him tinker away on his newest invention, with furrowed eyebrows and his mouth slightly crooked in concentration. When he saw you trying to get a peek, he'd shoo you out of his workspace, uncharacteristically embarrassed. You knew it when some time later, he presented you with a handmade silver key, tiny and delicate, with little swirls engraved in its edges. He jokingly remarked that it was the key to his heart and threatened you to never lose it. You swore with your life (and your pinky finger) that you would never take it off, and Viktor tied the wire necklace for you so that you wouldn't see the faint pink glowing on his cheeks. You never broke your promise.

You knew it when his parents gifted you both uniforms to the academy in Piltover and as you watched tears of happiness stream softly down his face (which he would later deny, much to your amusement).

You knew it when the two of you stepped foot in Piltover for the first time and felt vehemently out of place. It was almost as if everyone could tell you both didn't belong and the looks people shot you made you dizzy and weak in the knees. When Viktor gently squeezed your hand in reassurance, you gave him a small, thankful smile before squeezing back. And when your hands stayed comfortably clasped in each other's the rest of the way to the academy, you knew.

You knew it when you watched him place top of his class, his eyes shining with surprise before crinkling into a smile as he turned to look at you. You mouthed "I told you so," in response and laughed when he dramatically rolled his eyes, only for him to scoff and clear his throat when he noticed the odd looks he was receiving. This caused you to laugh harder, and when you saw his endeared expression afterwards, you knew.

You knew it whenever you brought him something you had cooked or baked and his entire face lit up, even more so if the delivery included anise cookies with condensed milk glaze — a weakness you had learned to affectionately exploit.

You knew it when he softly swept his thumb along the edge of your lips, chuckling as he remarked that you somehow always managed to get crumbs everywhere before suddenly pausing to question the light crimson that had come to stain your ears and cheeks.

You knew it whenever you gazed into his deep, honey eyes, bright with amber and ambition that always seemed to be focused ahead on some intangible future. The way he spoke of his hopes and dreams with that trademark sense of optimism of his that you cherished so much never failed to make you grin, and this was something Viktor noticed — a small note he made in the back of his mind that remarked that you often smiled when he did.

You knew it when he shattered from stress and insecurity and found solace in your embrace, sobbing silently into your shoulder as your fingers gently carded through his hair in an effort to calm him down. The muffled apologies and words of encouragement shared between the two of you in those moments were tender and bittersweet and stuck with the both of you long after, resurfacing in the forms of knowing looks and lingering touches that left butterflies in their wake.

You knew it when he became assistant to dean of the academy and visited the archives every morning and evening just to see you. On many occasions he claimed Heimerdinger had sent him to retrieve certain volumes of textbooks or council records that were "incredibly important to the headmaster's current duties," only for you to watch him leave empty handed and with a smile etched on his face.

You knew it when he got too close and the smell of coffee, sugar, anise, and tiny notes of ink, parchment, and iron invaded your senses, causing you to short circuit and lose focus on whatever you were previously doing. You prayed that the blush adorning your face wasn't visible or that Viktor wasn't paying attention to you in that moment as you knew you wouldn't be able to come up with a coherent excuse if he asked.

You knew it when he inquired you about a certain Jayce Talis' notes. About the arcane and magic, about endless possibilities and the opportunity to change the future, and about helping him finish his research. And when he specifically asked you to aid him and Jayce given your complex knowledge of the arcane, you knew.

You knew it when hextech worked wonders and the first thing he did after the adrenaline (and magically induced floating) ended was to thank you enthusiastically until your face matched the color of his shirt and Jayce laughed fondly in the background.

You knew it as you all grew older and success had become routine in your lives, and you knew it when Viktor's health plummeted. When he threw himself into his work and obsessively strived towards progress at the cost of his wellbeing. When the bags under his eyes grew dark and heavy and his complexion continued to pale.

You knew it when the nights he spent at the lab grew longer and when the meals you brought him that he so often ate with vigor ended up growing cold at the edge of his desk, untouched.

You knew it when you watched him collapse at his workstation and fear rooted itself in every crevice of your body, and you didn't want to think about what would have happened had your desperate calls not been answered by Sky, who frantically rushed to find the nearest source of help. In the hospital, Jayce had let you sleep on his shoulder as you both waited for Viktor to awaken, and you were thankful he didn't mention the tear stains that darkened his jacket as a result. And when Viktor stirred and his hoarse voice questioned your presence, you knew. You knew it when Jayce weakly responded with the truth of Viktor's condition, and you bit your lip until it bled in an effort to stop yourself from sobbing again as you faced the inevitable fact that your best friend would die.

You knew it when he reached a breakthrough and clasped your hands in his, practically shaking with excitement as he rambled about possibilities and outcomes and new horizons, but you weren't paying full attention to his words  — not when he was genuinely smiling and looked like Viktor again, alive and animated, with his eyes holding that familiar spark that you hadn't realized you missed seeing for so long... with something else hidden beneath it.

You knew it when you watched him run for the first time underneath the stars and his face contorted in every emotion possible before settling on disbelief and adoration when he reached you. You knew it when he tightly embraced you before lifting you towards the sky, smiling and laughing and high on adrenaline. You knew it when he thanked you — delicate and sweet, barely-there murmurs against your lips — and promised you the world, the sun, the moon, and the stars: that he would survive.

Over, and over, and over again, you were reminded. You had always known that Viktor would be your undoing. It was inevitable, with how wholly you gave your heart to him and the way life seemed to spite you, you knew. But you would let him ruin you — again, and again, and again, over and over, you would let him. You would spend an eternity in pain by his hands if it meant he would stay just as long on this Earth.

But not like this.

Never like this.

[angelltheninth]

Arcane Characters Dealing With Problems Badly

Pairing: Jinx, Vi, Caitlyn Kiramman, Ekko, Silco, Sevika, Vander, Jayce, Viktor, Mel x Reader

Tags: angst, fluff, comfort, getting into fights, working late, protectiveness, massage, fake smiles, lack of sleep

Ko-Fi | Rules | Fandoms and Characters

A/N: Arcane S2 is approaching and with it my emotional breakdown.

JINX

Bites her nails a lot out of nervousness

Relentlessly tinkers away at her desk, hardly even eating or drinking anything to make sure her body doesn't shut down

Talks with the people she sees but you don't and then tells you that she's fine because she's not alone, clearly she isn't fine, she doesn't want you to worry

Gets angry when you ask too many questions about her problems

Feels bad right after but there are just some things she's not ready to talk about, family things that she needs to sort out, but are free to stay by her side if it will make you feel better

VI

Pretends that there's nothing wrong

She learned in prison that showing any weakness if a bad thing so she tends to avoid it if she can

Hopes to distract you with kissing and flirting

Says that one of the best ways to get over things is a good fight so she seeks those out until she feels better

Of course this means that she comes back with a lot of bruises and maybe even a broken rib or two, but hey at least she got everything out of her system

CAITLYN

Obsesses over her problem to the point of losing sleep

Knows this is a problem for her but doesn't know how to fix it, she only knows how to fix other problems, and always before her own

Fell asleep at her office desk quite a few times

Doesn't even come home some nights but greets you down at the Enforcer HQ and gives you a kiss when you hand her the morning cup of coffee

Takes very short breaks to spend some time with you

EKKO

Includes you in solving most problems he needs to solve but doesn't give up until it's done

Takes a few unnecessary risks in the process

Risks his own safety, never someone else's, least of all yours

Call him stubborn if you must, he will admit that he is but everything he does is for a better future of you and all of his friends, for that no risk is too great

There's not a job dangerous enough to keep him away from it, he will try to keep you away, for your safety

SILCO

Can get a bit worked up when things don't end up going his way

Maintains a calm exterior when dealing with other people

In his job he needs to seem like he's in control of things even when he's not

Always tells you when he's gonna stay late so you don't worry that something happened to him, not realizing that you worry because these long nights have been getting more frequent

Finally has people who he can call h

SEVIKA

Good luck with trying to get her to open up with anything that's emotionally taxing on her

Blunt when she needs to threaten or insult but extremely slow when revealing her emotions

Would much rather drink, fight or fuck them away than give them a time of day

She's always been like this, you shouldn't expect her to change any time soon

Gets very guarded with her emotions if you try to prod at them, yet she's careful not to let her anger out on you, she likes you more than most people, you're fun

VANDER

Tries to avoid dragging you into his problems if he has anything to say about it

He knows you notice that he's more on guard, more careful when the bar is open, his eyes scanning the crowd for danger

Does tell you to keep your eyes open for anything suspicious but no more than that, he can deal with it when the time comes

Cracks a lot of jokes to make you feel better, safer

Promises that nothing will happen to you while he's still in charge, and he will keep it that way too

JAYCE

He's had to put on a fake smile more times than he can count, he can do it now too

Usually he's very honest with things that bother him, it's easy to open up to you

Yet this time he's closed off, working away on his blueprints, furiously writing things down in his notebook and even forgetting to eat the sandwiches he loves so much

A massage does help relax his pent up shoulders, he knows it's not good for him

Only when he's at the end of his rope does he admit what's been bothering him and let you help him

VIKTOR

Usually he closes himself up in his lab to work late nights so it takes a few nights for you to notice there's something wrong

He hasn't been sleeping at all, not for a few days

Barely keeps his eyes open yet insists that he's fine and that you don't need to worry about him getting sick from lack of rest

Takes short rests when you're in the lab with him

Needs to be dragged away to bed if he's gonna get any real sleep

MEL

Really good at pretending to be fine and being in control of things, even when she's pretending in front of you

Being in the Council for as long as she has she had to learn how to keep her guard up

Kisses your cheek when she tells you that her problems are her own, not for you to worry your pretty head about

Will spend the night with you but be gone first thing in the morning

Her nightmares get worse the longer this goes on

[hihomeghere]

Carousel Club | Five Hargreeves / Reader

Word Count : 3k Summary : After being dropped into 1963, you find work at the Carousel Club as a dancer. While following a tip where Luther could be, Five sees your routine. Overwhelmed by jealousy he sneaks into your dressing room. (I do not own the umbrella academy or any of it's characters.) Warnings/Tags : Smut, cursing, piv, men being sexist (its the 1960s what do you expect?) dom!Five, Aged up!Five. A little bit of angst. Not requested.

You always trusted your husband. He was your constant in a very fucked up world. You knew he would never purposely harm you, or put you in harm's way. Sometimes that meant following him through time and space, other times it meant trusting him to not burn your dinner. So when he said he had a way out of the mess you and your in-laws had caused, of course you trusted him wholeheartedly. 

You grasped Five’s hand tightly in your own, feeling a sense of deja-vu from the last time you two tried to spacial jump. Diego gingerly held your other hand, you looked up at him giving him a curt nod. He returned the nod before looking around at the rest of his siblings. You raised your eyes to the gaping hole in the ceiling, the intricate details of the theater framing the crumbling moon. Five squeezed your hand, drawing your attention back to him. You gave him a reassuring smile, well as reassuring as you could.

Electricity crackled around the seven of you, wind whipping your hair in front of your face. Five’s grip on your hand was almost crushing, like you were his lifeline. A giant blue orb of energy appeared above your family, growing and glowing. Five strained under the pressure, his face contorting into a pained expression. The blue light enveloped you all, flickering and pulsing. 

“Hold on! It’s gonna get messy!” Five yelled as the ground shook beneath you, shutting your eyes tightly you felt yourself being pulled away from Five and Diego. You only had a moment of panic before you were thrown to the ground.

You groaned sitting up, the blue light of energy blinding you. You raised your hand shielding your eyes.

“Five!” You yelled as you got to your feet. As fleeting as the orb had appeared it disappeared, as though someone had turned an old tv off. Was that a flash, or just your imagination? You shook your head, taking in your surroundings. No Five, no siblings, no briefcase. Where the hell were you? 

You wandered down the alleyway to the main street. Your hip twinged in pain after taking the brunt of your fall. You looked around the street, the lampposts and storefront neon signs were your only light source. You sank down on a bench, letting out a deep sigh. Your eyes wandered to a newsrack, you quickly got to your feet. You ran to it, holding the sides of the glass case. 

August 1st, 1963. Dallas, Texas.

Your heart leapt into your throat. Damn it, Five. Shit, Alison. God, where were the rest of Five’s siblings?

“Honey, are you alright?” A soft voice asked, you turned your head sharply. You were met by a sweet woman’s face, big blond hair and bangs. She had a cardigan wrapped tightly around herself as she reached out to touch your shoulder. You shook your head, still coming to terms with the last five minutes. “Come on, I’m just about to go get something to eat, why don’t you join me?” She said, smiling sweetly.

“I-” You cleared your throat, “I don’t have any money.” You said, shaking your head. “Well then my treat.” She said helping you to your feet. You followed the woman down the streets of Dallas to a quaint diner. You sat down across from her, taking a look over the menu. People chattered mindlessly around you as you came to terms with your situation.

“I’ve seen that look before.” She said, setting her menu down on the table. 

“What look?” You said furrowing your eyebrows.

“That look. Every girl I work with has had that same look.” She huffed thanking the waiter as he set down a coffee cup in front of her. “Small girl in the big city, not knowing where you’re gonna stay or what you’re gonna eat. Believe me, I’ve seen that look before because I’ve felt that before.” She said reaching across the table, taking your hand in hers. “So what’s your story, sweetheart?” You took a breath, choosing your next words carefully.

“My husband and I got separated.” You whispered, “My parents didn’t agree with our marriage and so we ran away. He was supposed to meet me here in Dallas but he didn’t show.” You said, not technically a lie, Five was supposed to be here with you.

“Oh dear,” She tsked, “well you do not have to worry about that anymore. I’m so glad I found you! You can stay with me until you get back on your feet.” You smiled, hopefully Five wouldn’t make you wait much longer. 

“Thank you…” You trailed off, realizing you hadn’t caught her name.

“Autumn.” She answered, holding out her hand for you to shake.

“I’m Y/n.” You smiled, taking her hand.

“You know Y/n, I could put in a good word for you with my boss. He may seem a bit rough around the edges, but we’re always short staffed.” She shrugged. Whatever the job was you would only have it for hopefully a week tops before Five caught up with you, along with his siblings.

“I appreciate it Autumn.” You smiled, patting her hand.

-

When you arrived at Autumn's place of work you wondered if you were a little over your head. You followed Autumn into the back entrance of the nightclub. You passed by many half dressed women, putting on their makeup and outfits. 

“This way sweetheart!” Autumn called, you picked up your pace following her through the dressing room. Once on the main floor of the club you were greeted by the intense smell of cigars. Autumn had all but disappeared, you wandered through the tables. Trying to work your way to the front of the club, while also trying to avoid the men’s wandering hands at the tables. 

“Y/n!” She called from a table, you turned your head. The club was familiar, but you couldn’t put your finger on it. You were face to face with Jack Ruby, the man who would put the hit out on Lee Harvey Oswald. You gulped, straightening your shoulders you walked over to them.

“Mr. Ruby, this is Y/n she’s looking for a job.” Autumn said, clasping her hands together. Jack looked you over, a cigar dangling from his lips. 

“Y/n who?” He said leaning back in his chair. You stuttered but only for a second.

“Y/n L/n,” You said with a smile, Hargreeves might get Five or your in-laws in trouble if anyone here caught wind of that name. He puffed his cigar, leaning over to whisper something to the man next to him. He chuckled before nodding, you bit your cheek. Feeling like a piece of meat in front of these men.

“Can you start tonight?” He said, lacing his fingers together. 

“Of course.” You replied, Autumn cheered quietly beside Mr. Ruby.

“Autumn, be a dear and show her the dressing rooms. Tell ‘em I want Miss Y/n to be on stage by tomorrow night.” He said motioning with his cigar in hand. On stage? You turned sharply looking toward the stage of the nightclub, scantily clad women fanning themselves with large feather fans. 

“Yes sir Mr. Ruby!” Autumn giggled, taking your arm and walking you towards the back.

-

You sat in front of your vanity, lined by bright golden bulbs. Brushing glitter onto your eyes before adding your long eyelashes. It had been three months since you had taken on your new job, along the way you had made many friends. You felt for all the girls alongside you, it was a rough profession but it paid well. You pulled your robe close around your body, walking over to the clothing rack. You rifled through the sheer jeweled fabric before your eyes landed on the black and white body suit. You threw your outfit over your arm heading back to your vanity. You were greeted by a beautiful bouquet of red roses, Autumn standing next to them with a coy smile.

“Autumn! Who are these from?”

“A secret admirer,” she cooed her bright red lips pulling back into a smile, “Just teasing! It’s from all of us girls here,” She said as she rushed forward, wrapping her arms around your shoulders. Her cheap perfume floods your senses along with her sweet sweat.

“Y’all didn’t have to do that!” You smiled as she pulled away, she only waved you off.

“You’re one of the best here! Don’t know where you learned all your little tricks.” She said bumping your elbow with her own. She looked down at your costume in your arms. “Need help?” Autumn asked, holding out her hand. 

“Yes please.” You said handing her your suit as you lowered your robe. You held onto her shoulders stepping into the suit, you adjusted your straps as Autumn tightened your corset. You admired yourself in the mirror, since taking on your new job you had become more toned. More than when you had worked at the commission, and these clothes were definitely more flattering than your blue suits you used to wear. You took in a sharp breath as Autumn pulled through the last loops, tying the ribbon with a neat bow.

“Alright sister, you’re ready.” She said squeezing your shoulders.

“Thanks Autumn, now go take your break!” You said waving her off. 

“Y/n! You’re on next!” Shannon called from the stage door. You nodded, quickly stopping to smell the sweet scent of your roses before grabbing your tulle skirt. You tied it around your waist as you walked backstage. You picked up your red feather fans, taking a deep breath. You walked up to the closed red curtains listening to the deafening cheers and whistles. You heard the clink of the ropes being pulled back before you were blinded by the spotlights. You closed your eyes, bowing your head, your body covered by the bright red fans. 

You started your routine, swaying your hips seductively as you pulled the fans back away from your body teasing the audience. You lost yourself in the music, thankfully it was difficult to decipher anyone’s face over the shadows cast by the spotlights. You unclipped the tulle skirt, throwing it off stage. You could make out a certain group of sailors, and a rather large man standing by the bar. 

You teased the audience, covering your body with the fans before flashing them a glimpse of your shimmering body suit. You pulled the fans over your head, rotating your hips in a circular motion as you lowered into a squat. You bounced on your heels before jumping back up to your feet. You smirked as the men whistled and cheered. 

The music slowed, and faded out as you walked behind the red curtain. You dropped off your fans before heading back to your dressing room. You opened the door, shutting it behind you. 

“Who sent the roses?” Five’s voice sent a shiver down your spine. You turned your head sharply, meeting Five’s predatory gaze.

“Five!” You gasped, your heart soaring in your chest. “When did you get here?” 

“I could ask you the same thing.” He said, crossing his arms. Your smile fell off your face, what was his problem? It’s not your fault that he dropped you off in the middle of 1963 with no resources. 

“Three months ago.” You said furrowing your brows, “I’ve been looking for you this whole time!” He scoffed, clicking his tongue.

“Oh really? It looks like you’ve been getting enough attention without me.” He huffed, glaring at the bouquet of roses.

“Excuse me for finding a way to survive here.” You spit pushing past him, knocking his shoulder against yours. You took a seat in front of your vanity, pulling out your makeup kit. He stalked up behind you, towering over you. He gripped your chin, forcing you to look at him through the mirror, effectively smearing your bright red lipstick.

“You’re mine.” He sneered, his lips pulling back over his teeth. You flushed, heat pooling in your core. You stared up at him through the mirror, his fingers squeezing your lips together. “Got it?” He asked. You glared at him, a devilish thought entering your mind. 

You kept quiet, smirking as you watched a shadow pass over his features. He clenched his jaw, shaking his head as he tilted your head to look him in the eye.

“You must need a lesson.” He smirked, pulling you to your feet, you stumbled slightly in your heels. He kicked the chair away, you jumped as it thudded against the carpeted floor. His arm moved behind you, sweeping everything off of your vanity along with the roses. They crashed to the floor, the vase shattering. He pushed you against the vanity, caging you in with his arms as he slammed his hands against the mirror. He stared down at you with a wolfish grin, you felt yourself flush. Your heart started to beat faster as you squirmed under him.

“Yes sir.” You said tilting your chin up, staring at him through your lashes. He growled spinning you around, your hands splayed out in front of you on the top of the vanity. His hand connected to your ass cheek, letting out a low chuckle as you gasped. He moved your hair off of your back, his cold fingers attacking the strings of your corset. 

“Stupid- fucking- ribbon-“ he said through gritted teeth, you caught the slightly crazed look in his eye through the reflection. Your body felt on fire, three months without him made every touch that more exhilarating. As soon as the corset was loose enough he was ripping it off of your body, along with your panties. You were entirely bare in front of your fully dressed husband. He stepped back, loosening his tie as he watched you squirm in the mirror. 

“Not so confident now, dearest.” He smirked, unbuttoning the top button of his dress shirt. You breathed hard, adrenaline rushing through your veins. Your nipples hardened against the cold air in the dressing room. You heard the familiar metal on metal as he took off his belt before unzipping his pants. He walked up behind you, nosing his dick against your folds. You clenched around nothing, pushing back against him. His hand came up to the back of your skull, wrapping his fist through your hair. He stared at you through his darkened gaze, you were breathless, your lips parting slightly.

“Please,” you whined, batting your eyelashes. He forcibly thrusted all the way in, knocking the breath out of your lungs. You let out a pornagraphic moan before you covered your mouth with your hand. He grabbed your hand, pulling it away from your mouth and holding it behind your back.

“Why don’t you let everyone here know who you belong to?” He huffed in your ear, thrusting erratically into you. You gripped the desk, the only thing holding you up as Five plowed into you. “Let them know that I’m the only one who gets to fuck you like this.” You clenched around him as his words seemed to straight directly to your core. He let out a groan, loosening his grip on your hair. “Fuck you like this don’t you?” You nodded enthusiastically, your eyes rolling back into your head as his cock prodded against your g-spot.

“Yes, yes Five!” You babbled tears pricking your eyes, as he bent you over the desk. His hands flew to your hips, pulling them against his own thrusts. You could only lay there as your orgasm came crashing down. You were thankful you were on top of the vanity because there was no way your trembling legs would have been able to hold you up. 

Five’s eyebrows knit together as he arched his neck back, his hips stuttering as his orgasm quickly followed yours. Cumming with a loud shout he collapsed on top of you, your sweat causing his thin shirt to stick to your skin. He pulsed inside of you as he gingerly tucked a piece of hair behind your ear. He pulled away, peeling himself off of you. He kissed your shoulder as his softened cock slipped out of you. Your breathing was slowly coming back to normal as he tried to return your room to the state it was before he had destroyed it and you. He picked up your robe draping it over your shoulders. You sat up, feeling his cum start to drip down your thighs.

“What took you so long?” You asked, tying your robe close around your naked body.

“I just got here.” He sighed, tucking himself back into his pants. “I’m sorry I made you wait.” He turned to you, brushing his thumb over your cheek.

“I’ll always wait for you.” You sighed, wrapping your arms around his waist. He held you against his chest, resting his cheek against yours.

“At least someone will, Luther and Diego weren’t too happy about me dumping them in the past.” Five sighed. Diego and Luther were here, too?

“Where are they?” You asked, turning to Five with wide eyes. Five looked at you inquisitively, a small smile pulling on the corner of his mouth.

“Luther works for Jack Ruby, y/n. I found him in this club before I knew you worked here.” Your stomach dropped. Luther worked for Jack Ruby? That means he must have seen your numbers.

“Oh god.” You said mortified, hanging your head against Five’s chest. He chuckled, shaking his head as he lightly rubbed your back.

“Believe me, he was just as mortified as you are.” He said, “Although I must say I thoroughly enjoyed your routine.” He lowered his voice, his hands trailing down your body to rest on your butt.

“I think I could give you a private showing.” You smirked, wrapping your hand around his tie. You pulled him forward by his tie, smashing your lips against his. His hands gripped your hips, the velvety fabric smooth against his palms. 

“God I’d love that,” He let out a sigh, “but maybe we should wait until after we save the world.” 

Again? It was happening again?

“Vanya?” You asked, pulling away.

“Your guess is as good as mine.” He shrugged, “All I know is on November 25th the world ends, again.” 

“Guess it’s time for a family reunion.”

[redr0sewrites]

not possible - Viktor x reader

🥀A/n: this was originally a request but it strayed wayyy too far off course... the writing had a mind of its own and im not sorry. but i AM sorry for not posting in a while.... ive been super hyperfixated on DC sorry

🥀Cw: fluff, non-sexual nudity, bathing, exhaustion/overworking

🥀Word Count: 1.2k words

🥀Synopsis: Viktor is overworking yet again, yet upon your insistence, finally takes a break.

Viktor was well aware that the candle at his side had long since burnt out, yet he was unwilling to find a replacement. the moon was bright tonight, and, combined with the soft blue glow emitting from the hextech he was working on, Viktor could make out the tools in front of him without any assistance.

he knew that working in the dim light was not a good idea, considering how straining ones' eyes could lead to faulty vision, but he couldn't bring himself to care. the ache in his bones ran deep, and his fingers shook with each breath. of course Viktor knew he should turn in for the night, but he found himself stuck in his chair, mindlessly fiddling with his most recent hextech project.

he was so engrossed in his work, he barely noticed your approach until you were practically on top of him. familiar hands find purchase on his shoulders and he jumps, only to melt back into your touch.

"ah, it's you," Viktor murmurs, turning around to face you. "may i ask, what are you doing up so late?"

"collecting you," you murmur, pressing a kiss to the tip of his nose. "it's already two in the morning. you've been here long enough."

Viktor sighs, and allows you to press a few more kisses to his face. the bags beneath his eyes were heavy, he was stiff and sore, and above all, he was exhausted.

joining you back home was certainly enticing, and hextech could always wait until tomorrow. and yet, the troublesome, burning itch beneath his skin wouldn't dissipate. he needed to complete just one more ruin combination, just finish this one little task, and then he'd let himself rest. at least, that's what he'd been telling himself for the past three hours.

"i can tell your overworking yourself again," you whisper, and Viktor huffs indignantly.

"overworking is, eh, a strong word. i am perfectly capable-" you cut him off by cupping his face in your hands, forcing him to look at you.

"Viktor, i am in no way denying your capabilities. however, you still need sleep. so, come back with me, and you can continue working tomorrow after a full nights rest. does that work?"

Viktor heaves another weary sigh, but agrees. you silently watch as he stands and steadies himself with his cane, not wanting to appear too overbearing but still concerned about his exhaustion. you wish you could alleviate some of the stress and burden that he carries, even though he relentlessly assured you that loving him was enough.

meanwhile, Viktor wordlessly packs up for the night. he knew you were trying to mask it for his own dignity, but the concern on your face was evident in the slightest furrow of your brow and pinch of your lips. he found it hopelessly endearing how you worried over him, and only wished that you would stop for your own sake.

after all, he was doing this for you. for the chance to live happily with you someday, after saving the lives of so many others. hextech consumed so much of his time, yet Viktor intended to make it up to you tenfold when you two would grow old together.

"you ready to head home?" your voice slices through his thoughts like a knife through warm butter, and he finds himself unable to do anything but nod. you did not hesitate to take his hand as you two walk back towards your shared abode, nor did you complain when he had to pause and catch his breath after some particularly bad pain in his leg. by the time you both arrived at your home, Viktor felt even more exhausted.

"i know it's late, but do you want to take a bath before going to bed?" your question lingers in the air for a few seconds before Viktor nods, and you begin setting up. you both know the warm water would only soothe his aching joints, and provide momentary relief from the pain he suffers from.

🥀

its not long before you and Viktor are curled against eachother in your large bathtub after washing off. he presses a gentle kiss to your shoulder as he absentmindedly washed your back, and you let out a relaxed sigh. you were both night-owls, but Viktor was much more accustomed to fighting off exhaustion.

you bite down on your bottom lip as more worries begin to seep into your mind. you feel almost selfish for missing him when he works so hard, and yet you want nothing more than to take all of his stress away. Viktor is quick to notice as you slip deeper in thought, between your tense muscles and quickened breathing, he can read you like a book.

"what are you thinking about, darling?"

another weary sigh escapes you.

"its just... you've been so stressed lately, i just wish i could alleviate some of the burdens you carry.. i know what you do is important, but i still wish i could be around you more often and help you.. y'know?" you let out another sigh. "i just.. miss you sometimes. and i worry. you know i worry.." Viktor chuckles at your words before turning you around to face him, the warm water around you both sloshing gently against the edge of the bath.

"you do more than enough already. believe me, everything i do, i do for you. for us. i love you," he murmurs, and presses a kiss to your forehead, "and nothing will change that. i can't guarantee that i'll always be around... but i will try to stop staying in the lab so late." Viktor's lips crinkle into a soft smile, and you can't help but kiss him in response.

Viktor always feels as though he's floating when you kiss. your soft lips against his, the contrast of his nimble, calloused hands against your smooth skin, your scent, your taste, it was all gloriously intoxicating. you hum against his lips before slowly pulling away, lashes fluttering against his cheek from your proximity.

Viktor leans in to whisper in your ear, his lips just ghosting your temple.

"i think it's high time we went to bed, dear. the waters getting cold, and i wouldn't want my beautiful darling to be exhausted tomorrow, hm?" you sigh at his flattery, yet agree regardless. as Viktor leans against the tub to stand up, you suddenly remember something and grab his hand to get his attention.

"hm?"

"by the way, about what you said earlier.... i love you more."

"that is not possible, my dearest."

GRRR SO HAPPY THIS IS DONE LMAO- sorry i havent been super active ive been on a huge DC kick (specifically the batfam/dick grayson) and suffering from writers block BUT HERE I AM AGAIN!!!!!!!!! ANYWAYS HOPE U ENJOYEDDDD PLS FEEL FREE TO SEND IN REQUESTS (esp dc... HEHE)