#Viktor fanfiction

[grugruel]

Not sure if this is where we can send in requests but you write so beautifully I truly cannot get over it.

Would it be possible to request a smut fic with Viktor from Arcane? Either way cannot wait to read your next fics 🩵

You really found the way to my heart with your kind words because I immediately had to write something for you🥹 I intended for it to be shorter, but it got away from me. I hope you like it!

Keeping Him Company

Pairings: Viktor x f!reader

MDNI/NSFW

Masterlist

Summary: Viktor is still getting used to solitude after Jayce started down the public road.

So when you offer to keep him company, he gladly takes you up on it.

Wordcount: 3k

Warnings: fluff, angst ish, friends to lovers, pinv sex, cowgirl, oral sex (f receiving), feelings, plot with porn.

AN: Viktor is not a shy man, and I will die on that hill😭

"Dont you wish to be up there with him?"

Light spilled through a gap in the tall curtains, partly illuminating a man in hiding.

"It is not my within my talent," he said and slanted his lips, a thick accent curving his pronunciation.

The girl approached him, walking along the shadows edge. She was clad in a red and white ensamble, mirroring his own. "Everything is within your talent."

Casting a wistful glance at his leg, he doubted her words. "A simple misscalculation, im afraid. He shines, I do not . . ."

Booming from mighty speakers was the man of progress, holding a speech in front of thousands of people. The brief breaks to collect his breath allowed for them to hear the audience's reaction, and the collective whispers of expectant folk rolled through the crowd in waves.

She stopped next to him, hands clasped infront of her. "You're uninterested in the attention." She pitched her voice at the end, framing the statement as a question. Suspecting she already knew the answer.

"I do not enjoy it," he shrugged. "I prefer the practical part of our work."

"The solitude?"

He looked up at her, having had to sit down at some point during their conversation. The promise of dark circles had begun taking form beneath his eyes, painting a tired look onto his face.

"Hmm . . . The quiet if anything, I think. I've found myself in solitude more often than not since Jayce started handling the . . . public aspects," he explained and gestured broadly with one hand, encompassing the local. The entirety Piltover too, she imagined.

"You're happy with that?"

Bobbing his head from side to side, he could not agree nor disagree. "I like quiet, but I prefer the company. Jayce makes good company."

"Well," she began and reached out to him, pinching a piece of wild hair between her fingertips and arranged it back into shape with the rest of his dark waves. "If you find yourself in unwanted solitude, you can always send for me, Viktor. If nothing else, I might be able to help in the lab," she smiled. It was her specialty, after all.

They'd been friends since they enrolled in the academy, but learning under Heimerdinger rarely allowed them time to see eachother.

Straightening his cane, he heaved himself back on his feet.

She would offer him help, but knew it wouldn't be too appreciated.

Leaning on the support, the stream of light escaping the stage colored his face and set it aglow with warmth. "Thank you, . . ." he called her name and smiled. "I might do that."

He was a strong mind in a blighted body. The brightest often were.

-

It was late the next day when she'd gotten a message from Viktor.

Pushing the tall door open, the setting sun painted the spacious workroom in a dim golden light. On first inspection, one could've thought it abandoned. Books were strewn on every available surface, opened or stacked. Dust had already managed to settle on a few, and she guessed that they'd been deemed irrelevant to the two men's work at some point, then simply forgotten to time and unpaced space. "Viktor?" She called out.

"Over here," a thick accent answered. Venturing further inside, she found him by the colossal windows that held a view Piltover. To the side was a blackboard with rows upon rows of calculations. "Please, take a seat." He smiled and gestured toward one of the few chairs that were free of piling notes. "I'd like to show you what I have been working on."

-

And so the evening spilled into dusk, and dusk poured into night. There was nothing now but the dark sky and starlight illuminating the two of them.

"It is not correct," he tapped the chalk against the board and sighed, highlighting a specific problem to her eyes. He'd asked for her thoughts at some point, and ever since the two had been going back and forth trying to solve one particularly stubborn equation.

Settling down on the chair that she had long abandoned, Viktor wrapped his hands over the cane's handle and rested his chin on top. Exhausted eyes studied the same scribbles he'd gone over and over a hundred times before.

In unisome, they sighed.

Knowing glances were thrown each other's way, luring a chuckle from the both of them and gratefully releasing some of their tension. "Thank you, for lending me your mind this evening."

Pursing her lips, she moved in front of him and settled against the worktable. He was still facing the board, pondering the solution, and allowing her to look at him unabashedly. The strong jaw and sharp cheekbones, that pretty little mole above his lip and his perfectly half-wild hair. "I had a good time," she shrugged. "I should be the one thanking you." Unable to help herself, she leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on that angled cheekbone of his. "So, thank you, Viktor," she murmured.

Pushing herself to her feet, she reached out to grab her things, then moved to leave.

But a hand grabbed her wrist before she had the chance. "Thank you for keeping me company, . . ." Viktor said, voice sliding lower with each word until her name spilled from his lips in a whisper.

Her eyes switched between his, attempting to determine if there was an ulterior meaning his words. Looking down at their hands, she noticed his thumb stroking the thin skin at her wrist. Clearing her throat, she swallowed. "You didn't invite me here just to theorise, did you, Viktor?"

He followed her gaze and inspected the hand he held in his. "I like the quiet," he said, gently toying with her fingers. Running along their length, he absentmindedly bent and straightened them as he carefully thought about the next words to leave his lips. "But it seems, I prefer you." His fingers slid between her own, lacing them together.

Stepping closer to him, she cupped the sharp angles of his cheek. Giving him no other choice then to look up at her with those big, rounded eyes. "Are you telling me I'm loud?" She teased.

"No," Viktor smirked and let his cane slip to the floor, prioritising holding her hips. "But I would like to find out." He put pressure behind his hands, pushing her back onto the tabletop behind her. "Take those off, please." He nodded his chin at her suitpants, then leaned back in his chair.

Smiling, she did as asked and a little bit more, leaving her in nothing but her undergarments.

His eyes trailed over her body, along the curves of her breasts and lace covered mound. Without a word, he moved the chair to face her, hands sliding up her calfs until they hooked beneath her knees and pulled her to the edge of the table.

"Viktor, you don't have to-" she began, rather putting in work for both of them so he could avoid further strain on his body.

But desperate to be of use, to do it himself, he insisted. "I want to," he assured, wrapping a hand around the back of her thigh and squeezed. "Please . . . Let me."

Hesitantly, she nodded her head in compact motions. Willing to please him, but needing him to please her more.

Placing one hand behind her, she braced her weight against the table while her other hand brushed stray strands from his eyes. Combing it back, she burried her fingers in his thick waves. "Okay," she whispered.

What followed was a satisfied smirk and an eager lips trailing kisses along her inner thigh. He made quick work of her panties, then paused. Looking up, brown irises locked with her own as he hovered an inch from her heat. Then suddenly burried his face between her thighs before she'd gotten a second to breathe.

"Fuck-" she moaned, head falling back in bliss as Viktor worked his glorious wonders. An experienced tongue thrust into her core and lapped at her wetness, closing his eyes and humming throughout as if tasting heaven itself. "You taste very sweet, darling," he murmured against her, damp breath fanning against her core and sending shivers up her spine, doing nothing but further spurr her arousal on.

Sinking his teeth into the flesh of her inner thigh, he looked up at her, finding the entire city at her back, framing her exalted form. Behind her quivering shoulders ran the horizon, the night sky painting her into a saint as it formed like a halo around her head. Watching her heaving chest and panthing mouth was enough to make a man believe in powers greater than science.

And he wouldnt relent, when seeing the reaction his mere tongue could cause. He couldn't give her mercy, and he could not give her another second to collect herself lest her climax strayed too far away.

Without warning, he slid his tongue up her folds, collecting her arousal only to swallow with groan. Before she could gasp, he'd already slipped back between her thighs. Aternating between soft kisses and gentle nipping, he turned her into a whimpering mess. In a final act, he latched onto her clit, sucking and circling with fervour. Tears of pleasure rolled down her cheeks as her fingers curled into a fist, pulling on his hair as she held on for dear life.

But all he did was whine from her taste and the pressure on his scalp, whine from the growing unpleasantry in his pants as he devoured his dinner and licked his plate clean. "Pretty," he murmued, and she opened her eyes to look at him.

One quivering body- and an arched back later, she laid back against the tabletop, fighting hard to catch her breath.

Looking back, she glimpsed Piltover. She saw thousands of lights illuminating homes, she saw the sky and the glimmering stars. But she couldn't be sure if it was reality or hallucinations of eyes recovering from a tumultuous orgasm.

Moving up, she braced on her forearms, surveying Viktor's own state. He'd circled his arms around her calves and laid his head in the valley between her thighs, kissing and whispering sweet nothings against her skin. Thumbs stroked soothing circles into her plush flesh whenever his mind reminded him. "Thank you," he whispered and kissed her. "Thank you," he repeated over and over again.

"Thank me when we're done," she exhaled, adoring the way his reaction to making her come was gratitude, for letting him bring her to completion. "Chair or bed?" She asked, already planning their next endeavour. "I want to please you too."

Blinking, he considered. An uncertain smile twitching in the corner of his lips. "Our rooms are far," he murmured, glancing down at his leg. Self-consciousness was never something he displayed, never did he complain or bring it up. In his mind, he wanted to prove that there was nothing wrong with him, that he could withstand and surpass.

Although she understood, although she empathized with him, she did not see the need. A dent in a machine did not change its capability, but it could bump the risk of deterioration. "We all need help sometimes, Viktor," she combed through his hair, scratching and brushing his scalp in turns. Sliding a finger down his face, she placed it beneath his chin, tilting his face to meet hers. "Some hardships are more visible than others, but that should not affect the view people have of you. It certainly won't affect mine," she whispered and brushed her thumb along his upper lip, fingertip gently dotting the mole above, and then followed his cheekbone up to his temble. "But, it's your decision, whatever you're comfortable with," she assured, rubbing circles into his temple.

Burrying his face in her thigh, he sighed and nodded, untamed hair scratching her skin pleasantly. "Yes." Viktor sat back and reached for her hands, clasping them in his own. "My room it is," he smiled and kissed up her knuckles, palm and wrist.

-

She'd never been sure if the professor's assistant got a fancier room then the other students. But standing inside it, she could confirm it was bigger at the very least.

"We were outside of the workshop when miss Medarda found us," Viktor explained as he closed the door behind them.

"No! What did she say?" She snickered, eager to hear the following as shd vetured into his room, examining some of the knicks and knacks he had laying around.

Leaning on his cane, he scrathed his chin. "I do not remember," he said, and then a blush rose to his cheeks, staining them a pretty, pale red. "I believe I paniced and told the councillor that I had gotten the rooms wrong."

Raising an eyebrow, she sauntered back to him, already questioning how the story would end. "And which room was that?" She asked, toying with his collar.

Viktor cleared his throat. "Jayce's," he chuckled, thumb rubbing the handle of his cane. "Miss Medarda had little trust in my excuse."

Her lips pulled into a thin line as she met his eyes, making a worthy attempt at with-holding her laughter. "At least it turned out well in the end," she managed, fingers working to unlace his west as she backed toward the bed, pulling him with her.

"Yes," he said and re-removed her shirt, getting the satisfaction of pulling it over her head this time. "I would like to think so."

Sliding his west down his shoulders, she began unbuttoning the red fabric beneath, where she found another piece of his engineering. She traced the clever contraption with wonder. Softly admiring the skill and ingenuity he'd put into it.

Looking up to ask him about it, she found his expression close to discomfort. He looked vulnerable, like it was a piece of himself he rarely showed anyone else unless he had to.

Smiling softly, she met his gaze with a slanted head. "It's crafted brilliantly," she recognized his hard work while studying the detailing. "It's a-"

"Brace." There was note of resignation in his tone. "My back, it is . . ." He trailed off, looking away.

She sighed silently, hating that he couldn't see his own beauty the way she did. "It's beautiful, Viktor. Truly. It suits you." She ran a finger along the strap over his shoulder. "We can keep the shirt if you'd prefer it."

"No," he said and began taking the shirt off, struggling as he only had one available hand. Sensing irritation, she cupped his jaw, gathering his attention. She watched his face soften, honoured by his trust in her. Then brushed her hands down his throat and shoulders, tracing his collarbone before sliding over his shoulders and beanth the fabric, helping it fall to the floor. Viktor turned them around and moved onto to bed without another word.

She smiled to herself, instantly shy by his sudden confidence. Crawling after him, she straddled his lap, careful not to put too much weight on his leg.

"I am not ready, to . . . Remove the other, yet," he murmured, no longer as resigned when talking about his condition. "I am afraid the pants must stay on, for the moment."

"Thats okay," she nodded softly, connecting their foreheads. "I don't mind." She placed her hands on his chest, feeling his skin beneath her palms. She brushed them down his arms until she found his hands and laced them together with her own, and her lips inched closer to his.

For a while, they settled in this new position. Simply enjoying the moment of newfound feelings and fragility, inhaling one another's scent and sharing the air between them.

Viktor tilted his head to the side, moving closer until their mouths were ghosts upon the other. With parted lips, he crept ever closer, patiently testing the waters. Then, softly, they closed around her bottom lip. With a unified exhale, she kissed him back. She could very faintly taste herself on him.

Together, they could focus on nothing but the softness of the other and the frequency of their breaths. When their lust filled lungs could no longer expell air through their mouths, their noses had to take up the slack. Somehow, adding on to the intimacy between them. In this second in time, they were two souls with lungs filling of emotion, ramping up the speed in which they needed to act.

With no other way for the feelings to go, the eagerness in their lips had to carry them out.

Laced together, she moved his hands to her body, giving him free range to wander while her own traveled downward and found the buttons of his pants. "Is this still alright?" She murmured in-between kisses.

"Yes, please," he answered, his own hands undoing her bra. Then there suddenly was the sound of skin on skin as he slid his hands back around her ribs and cupped her breasts.

With a gasp from his touch, she got the buttons open. Reaching down, she pulled his member out.

He'd been fully hard since they'd left the workshop, and intending to finally put him out of his misery, she spread the pre-cum leaking from his tip and circled it gently. Earning her a soft whimper.

Placing one hand on his chest, she lined him up with the other. Pushing him back against the bed and quickly followed suit herself, wetting the tip in her core.

"Please," he begged, hands moving to cup her face, pulling her back for another kiss. "Please." He introduced their tongues and let them explore each other's mouths. Finally, she carefully slid down his length. Resulting in a shprt break from their kiss through the unisome gasp.

As she began to move, to rut her her hips into his. The kiss became needier and needier until their teeth were clashing and breathing rapid.

She angled her hips so her clit could be stimulated against his mound. She released a breathless whimper at the sensation, but earned a twitch from the member inside her and a grin from the man beneath her. "Glorious woman," he moaned, moving to kiss her jaw and neck. His hands slipping from her face to her hips and ass, squeezing and encouraging her ruts with help from his wrists.

From the several points of pleasure he made for her, she was already closing in on her second orgasm. Straightening up, she put both hands on his chest and used him as support to move in longer bounds around his inches. "That alright?" She asked, imagining nothing worse than to cause him

"Yes, y-yes. Mmh . . . M' close," he managed. Observing her on top of him did nothing to ease the matter, and he hissed from what his thoughts of her alone could muster.

Grinding down harder, jolts of electricity shot through her body. Their combined sounds of pleasure along with the sensations they caused had them both close to their limit.

Closing her eyes, the night sky began forming beneath her eyeslids. Her entire body felt much the same, static sizzled in every nerve as the pressure came close to releasing.

"Look at me," Viktor said with a breathless voice. Fingers clawing at her back and waist with a non existent sharpness.

Taking a deep breath she closed the distance between them once again, and opened her eyes.

This time, she could see the stars reflected in his eyes. His hand wrapped around the back of her neck, bringing her head against his, and allowed their lips to meet one last time before they spilled over the edge. Viktor quite literally, as he filled her up with his seed.

With no strength left in her body, she collapsed. Yet, still taking care to place her weight on her side rather than his torso, along with her legs settling between his rather than on top.

"Thank you," he whispered, lips finding her temple as she rested next to him. "For keeping me company."

"It was my pleasure, Viktor," she chuckled. "I hope we can do it again."

"Yes, I would like that," he nodded. "I really care for you, . . ." He whispered her name. "I think, perhaps-"

"I care for you too," she stopped him. "Let's let things happen in their own time, okay?"

"Okey," he smiled, scratching her nape.

As their euphoria began wearing of and sleep caught up, her mind could not settle. "Viktor," she murmured.

"Mmh?" He answered, already drowsing of.

"I maybe think so, too."

[xxsquiddkiddxx]

Heels ~ Viktor x Reader

Pronouns for reader: She/Her

Relationship type: Platonic, romantic feelings, slight enemies to lovers if you unfocus your eyes a bit

General Idea: Viktor used to hate the sound of those damn boots of hers, but now he's grown to find an odd sense of comfort in the noise. Along with... a series of other feelings.

Content Warnings: Fluff, swearing, Viktor being sassy, s1 Viktor, Takes place between S1E3~E4, Viktor's kinda down bad but in a denial way, Viktor also isn't good at realizing he has feelings for the reader, Jayce needs a 32hr nap

A/N: My Viktor headcanons got a LOT more love than I thought they would... so I decided to write some more Viktor XD

(Nobody's POV, but it's mostly told. through Viktor's thoughts)

~☆~

The lab was pretty much silent. The only sounds heard were the sounds of Viktor tinkering with a Hextech device and the occasional flipping of pages as (Y/N) read some notes that Jayce had written. It was late, definetly past midnight as the two worked.

"(Y/N)," Viktor says, breaking the silence. The girl's head pops up at the sound of her name. "Come here for a second? I need a second pair of hands."

"Be right there." She says, finishing the page she was on. She stands up and walks towards him, the sound of her boots hitting the tile as she walks.

Clack

Click

Clack

Viktor used to hate the sound of her boots. "Those damn boots are so annoying," He had complained to Jayce during the first week of (Y/N) working as a part-time assistant. "Click clack click clack, drives me insane!" He had mocked before sighing.

"Viktor... don't both your boots AND your cane make that noise as well?"Jayce had responded, raising an eyebrow with a teasing smile. This made Viktor at a loss for words.

"Well... It's annoying when she does it!" He had sassed back in response, throwing his hands up in exasperation.

That was 3 years ago. Now, he found a weird sense of comfort in hearing the sound of her boots hit the floor. He couldn't explain why, enjoyment of familiarity maybe?

"What's up?" (Y/N) says, standing behind Viktor. The smell of her perfume was almost overwhelming to him, overloading his senses. Which was weird, seeings as it must've been almost 13 hours since she'd last applied perfume. And that doesn't last long... was he delusional? Or maybe just tired? Whatever. It doesn't matter.

"Yeah, I just need you to hold this in place." Viktor says, not even looking up from what he's doing. He gestures to a little piece of metal he's holding. (Y/N) leans over Viktor and holds the piece in place as requested. The scientist trys his best to ignore the feeling of her closeness and the racing of his heart... holy crap was it warm in here? It must've been. Although it seemed strange to him that it was magically warm in here all of a sudden. This spirals him into a memory, a memory that took place a little less than a week prior to now.

Viktor sat at his desk, for once not to work on Hextech, but to run his hands through his hair and stay deep in thought.

"Viktor?" Jayce asked. "Are you OK? You haven't been as focused as you normally are today. Did something happen?"

"I think... I think there's something genuinely wrong with me." Viktor says. "Like... maybe I'm coming down with something?? I don't know." Viktor stands up, leaning on his cane slightly for support.

"Oh?" Jayce asks, raising an eyebrow. "Could you, uh, possibly elaborate on that?"

"Well, for one everytime Ms.(L/N) comes near me I about have a damn heart attack." Viktor says, his cane clacking softly on the floor as he paces. "Like yesterday, perfect example. She accidently brushed my hand when she was passing me a paper and I actually thought I was dying."

Jayce suppresses a smile, trying not to laugh. Was Viktor really getting THIS worked up... over a little crush? "Oh?" Jayce says, still suppressing a smile. "Is that it?"

"Whenever she's near me, I swear to the gods that I become hyperaware of... like... everything." Viktor says. "Like the room feels warmer, her perfume or her shampoo is ALL I can smell, I'm almost convinced I know every single speckle of color in her eyes... I think I might actually be going crazy." Viktor says, stopping his pacing. "I'm positive. I've actually hit the breaking point and am decending into insanity."

Jayce now can't help but laugh. Maybe it was his lack of sleep from working on Hextech for days on end, maybe it was the seriousness in Viktor's voice about his "decent to madness." Jayce's laughter came out as almost wheezes due to how hard he was laughing.

Viktor throws his hands up in exasperatedness. "Jayce!" Viktor scolds. "This ISN'T funny! There's-"

This just makes Jayce laugh more and more. "Yes it is, Viktor." Jayce manages to say through wheezes. He's holding onto the desk for support as he laughs. It gets to the point where passersby become mildly concerned for the scientist's wellbeing. "I assure you you're not decending to madness."

"Then what the hell is going on????" Viktor exclaims, collapsing into his chair.

"Relax you just have a little crush, it's fine." Jayce says, wiping the tears of laughter away as he tries to steady his breathing.

"Viktor?" The sound of his name snaps him out of the memory. "You good? I think I said your name like five times." (Y/N) says with a chuckle. Viktor shakes his head slightly.

"Uh, yeah. I'm fine." Viktor says, continuing what he was doing. He tried to ignore the slight shake in his hands, the side of his own hand pressed against Ms. (L/N)'s own hand. When he's done. He about throws the screwdriver down. "Thank you for your assistance." Viktor says, the weight off his shoulders earning a little sigh of relief.

"Was that all you needed?" (Y/N) asks.

"I'm pretty sure, yeah." Viktor says. (Y/N) hums in response, walking over to her desk. Click, clack, click, clack. Her boots echo in the room. She grabs her coat and walks towards Viktor again.

"I'm gonna head out then." She says. Click, clack, click, clack. The sound of her boots ring in Viktor's head, a haunting sound that he didn't actually mind having on replay in his brain. "You should too soon." She says, her voice kind and soft.

Viktor's stomach feels like it's about to leap out of his body. Even though it was scientifically impossible, he couldn't help but worry about it. "I will soon." He says, the softness in his voice actually shocking him. Normally he'd just lie out his teeth and sleep in the lab, or not sleep at all. However, when he said that he would... he truly meant it. His eyes move away from the project and to (Y/N). "I'm just gonna finish this little bit up."

(Y/N) smiles, it's tired and small, but it's still a smile nonetheless. Seeing her smile along made the corners of his lips feel like they were moving on their own. He suppresses a smile the best he can, but it still shows on his face. "Goodnight, Viktor." She says, her voice still soft. She didn't speak full volume, and that for some reason made Viktor's heart rate skyrocket.

"Goodnight, (Y/N)." He says, the same tone and volume as (Y/N). She turns and walks out of the room. Click, clack, click, clack. He listens to the sound of her shoes until they completely fade out.

"Relax you just have a little crush, it's fine."

Viktor didn't have a crush on (Y/N)... did he?

~☆~

For more fics: my masterlist

Feel free to request fics!!!

~Squeed

[ambitiousmars]

.☘︎ ݁˖ GENTLE precision

.☘︎ ݁˖ summary: viktor works in his own way. on the floor, in the dark, sometimes even in his sleep. but no matter the circumstances you'd hate for him to miss his morning coffee.

.☘︎ ݁˖ pairing: viktor x gn!reader

.☘︎ ݁˖ genre: fluff

.☘︎ ݁˖ warnings: no use of y/n, pure fluff, not proof read, based on season 1

I'll gently graze you, so you'll remember my touch. I'll softly speak to you, so you'll remember my voice while it's coaxing you rather than haunting you. And I'll remember you, so when you remember me, we'll remember us.

"Morning, Viktor." You greeted yourself as the door of the darkened lab clicked behind you, hand grazing against the wall to find the light switch.

"Keep them off," Viktor would urge, "Please." He'd mumble politely as a blue light sparked from the floor beside his chair.

"What are you working on?" You'd ask, making coordinated steps with coffee in each hand towards the sparking light.

You didn't know it could be so dark in a light room. The window looked as if it was the dead off night, and you clearly wouldn't know any better if he told you it was, in fact. Even if you were outside ten minutes prior.

One step: lies a cord notorious for being tripped on.

Picking your foot to place three more steps.

Where a table clock laid, broken glass facing down that no one bothered to pick up.

Picking up your foot, you took a few more steps before standing beside the busy man.

"I hope that's coffee I smell." Viktor whispered, not because he didn't want you to hear but because of how gentle he took your care. Whispering was a sign of vulnerability, not even he noticed about himself.

"Well, you always did get what you hoped for." You responded in the same tone, a smile evident in your voice as you lowered yourself to sit beside him.

He pulled away from whatever he was working on and removed the goggles he placed on his eyes to the floor beside him.

He reached a hand out to you, noticing you couldn't see him in the dark and you weren't even looking at him. He located your wrist to grasp lightly and slide the coffee from your hand before letting go.

"What are you working on?" You asked, moving your eyes back to him. As your eyes found his, you noticed the glisten in his eyes that still glowed through darkness, something you'd hate to miss.

He hummed through his sip off the hot beverage, letting you know he acknowledged your curiosity.

"Same thing I was working on yesterday,  and the day before..." He spoke, although not great with humor, you could hear the smile in his voice when he spoke. As if he wanted you to laugh at the thing he found frustrating,  maybe to make it less frustrating for him.

"And why are we on the floor?"

'we.'

A simple word, a simple pronoun aimed at the two, now sat on the floor together.

"You can sit on a chair if you'd like." Viktor suggested.

'we.'

No one told you to sit on the floor.

"Then you'd be the only one sitting," You shook your head even when you knew he couldn't see it.

"And you'd be the only one standing." He whispered, more to himself than anything.

"Presicely."

Being alone was what he wanted, but being with you is what he craved. He didn't mind being accompanied on the floor by someone who doesn't mind accompanying him.

But it was far more than his presence, you'd hate to remember him by the man who was all alone unless you asked. You shouldn't have to ask, and he shouldn't have to answer.

Your hand found the air, with what you could see you brought it towards where you thought the shoulder of the man was. You were a bit far off until it landed on the fabric of his vest.

He didn't say anything, although he was curious he knew once you'd find what you were looking for, he'd know. Like now, when your hand glided across his chest to his right shoulder--letting your face follow where your hand went, you rested your cheek on his empty shoulder.

Which he allowed, as he sipped his coffee and thought about the question told once today.

"And why are you on the floor?"

[spxllcxstxr]

Viktor Getting into a Relationship with a Male S/O • Headcanon

(Gif not mine)

Request: I was wondering if you could do some Viktor x male!reader headcannons? Like establishing/getting into a relationship with him. Thank you for your consideration. :) — anon

Warnings: m/m pairing, lowkey kinda academy vik/a wee bit before season 1? Kinda short I’m sorry!!!!!

A.N: these are short I’m sorry!! I don’t think I used any pronouns but the reader and vik are referred to as gay, I hope these are ok! I’ve never really written m/m so it was a little outside of my own box!

•

At the time of your first meeting, Viktor was already quite comfortable in his sexuality. It wasn’t a well known fact about him though, only Jayce knew (and let’s be honest, Heimer knows what’s up)

It certainly wasn’t love at first sight for Viktor when he first saw you, head buried in a research paper, but you did in fact catch his eye. You were quite handsome and obviously smart, your red scribbles in the margin of the paper indicated that you at least understood the topic. Unfortunately, Viktor reasoned that he had more important things to focus on and had no time for extracurriculars

That was until you started strolling into his lab, notebook in hand, asking so many questions and jotting his answers down before strolling back out. It was an assignment from some professor Viktor never really liked but damn were they doing him a favor now

Viktor is the one that starts finding you outside the lab—sometimes he would see you in the library or walking through the corridors, and he musters up enough courage to actually ask you about yourself. He starts off small, knowing that not only is he a bit of an introvert, but you are too (at least in front of him you are)

You, on the other hand, were smitten with Viktor almost immediately. You loved his passion and curiosity, especially when it came to science and his own experiments. Viktor was dedicated to helping others as well. In front of him you acted like a tittering school girl with a crush--you fumbled over your words and your cheeks got hot--it was embarrassing

When your professor gave you the opportunity to note down the goings on in the labs, you were ecstatic. (Not just because of Viktor, you told yourself; you loved science as well...interacting with Viktor was quite the bonus though)

Every day you would enter his lab to take note of his progress, and you would practically swoon over the man. The way he would concentrate when experimenting and how passionate he spoke of his findings. (His accent was a plus too). You looked forward to seeing Viktor, not just because you liked him, but because he was becoming a wonderful friend.

It's late at night a few months later when Viktor admits his feelings. You're scribbling down equations in your notebook, trying to help Viktor figure out a component of his work when the slender man stops mid sentence, amber eyes gazing at your frame. Viktor first nervously admits that he likes men, flinching at your sudden laugh at the confession. He was gay, you were gay...that school girl crush had hope after all. Viktor then rests a shaky hand on your own, thumb lightly tapping against the bad of your hand

“I…I must confess something else, (Y/n). You much know that I have grown fond of you, no? That for once in my life I actively search someone out? I fancy you, and I believe you…feel the same?”

Viktor easily melts your heart with that. You both lean in for a kiss—soft and filled with emotion

Establishing your relationship is pretty easy at the start. It starts out the same just with added kisses in the corner of the lab, dates at small, hole in the wall restaurants. He’s very easy to love and care for…and he is very happily in love with you too

•

[balsamfir-fics]

while the Fandom is angsting and there are some stressed out people being less than positive wrt what will happen in Act 3, I wanted to share some gratitude and positivity!!

thank you to those who have read my novel-length (70,000k words oof) viktor x reader fic here or on ao3!

its not a short read if you consume all three "acts" (yes we wrote a three-act drama ofc ofc), but the first part can more or less be read as a standalone. so, whenever one of you comments to say you read the whole thing, it has me floored and also so excited to hear from you. I do plan to make a separate, canon-corrected version soon, but it's also fun comparing my predictions in the plot (which wer3 written based on old LoL lore and my own speculation) came true and which didn't.

as we all drown ourselves in arcane content, please do drop by your fave writers' inboxes or comments sections l. we love engaging with you as well! trying my best to scream at you in the tags and say hi!)

[fresh-new-yoik-watah]

Fault Lines

aesthetics

Rosalyn “Rosie”

Viktor “Viki”

[undercity-rat]

Who ordered the viktor angst?

[smol-lydia]

Hello Viktor nation I will be working on the next chapter of “Coffee and Cigarettes” today and I hope to drop it after the holiday so keep your eyes peeled!!!

I know you requested to be on the tag list @pinklunarprincess so I got ya!!!

[hyperesthesias]

Foresight & Respite

Notes: Boring. My inner Bronte came out again. Sorry. (I promise the next chapter [after Starlight Immemorial] is going to be really good. Viktor will have a spiritual sexual awakening.)

Context: Anya and Viktor are childhood friends from Zaun, who reconnected six months ago. Anya is a mage, theoretical physicist, and wealthy donor to the Academy. She is a different humanoid species, who lives for centuries. She has previously offered to become Viktor's patron, but he has worries about being unable to repay her. Anya is worried Viktor is being overworked, and offers her patronage again. They have their 'first fight'. Starlight Immemorial directly follows this chapter.

Tag List: @uniquedeerwitch @funcoolchickie (Please let me know if you would like to be tagged!)

AO3 link

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Days elapsed into weeks after the Symphony Ball, in which Viktor could not recall a time in his life spent without Anya. He was required to chaperone her to presentations and proposals given by department heads from the physics and astronomy college, where she listened with great attention and happiness to hear of the progress being made in the concept of light travel. After a myriad of lectures, she confided in Viktor that she had a contact at the energy research facility where she used to work, who had access to a hadron collider.

“Perhaps I can ask her for an appointment with the laboratory where it is located,” she suggested, excitedly. She walked with her companion among the halls of the Academy, from the physics college to the engineering department, where Viktor was set to lead the next lecture of Engineering 101. “That way, maybe you and your partner might be able to find some answers about the crystal, and what it can do.”

Viktor nodded and put the back of his hand, occupied with his daily notebook, to his mouth as he yawned.

“Certainly, I know the idea of visiting a hadron collider cannot be boring you,” she eyed him. “How much sleep did you get last night?” she asked and leaned to see his face. 

He tried to shy away from her prying judgment, but he conceded to her concern. “I got enough.”

“Your body disagrees.”

“My body disagrees with everything,” he miffed. They turned into the lecture hall, where he held the door open for her. The classroom was empty, and it allowed them to prepare for the first wave of students for the day. He settled himself at his desk, and set his notebook down, opening its pages to the lesson plan of the day.

Anya pulled down the chalkboards and erased the previous day’s scrawlings. “You do too much, Viktor. You cannot subsist on caffeine and curiosity alone.”

“It has worked so far,” he glanced at her.

She huffed and returned his look as she wandered to the edge of his desk, where a pile of papers sat, waiting to be distributed. “Have you thought about my offer?” She picked them up, and waited to see if he would reply. 

His sight broke from his notebook, but he did not look her in the eye; he did not have the wherewithal. Her offer had been exceedingly generous, and while its promise had crossed his mind repeatedly in the weeks they spent together, he gave it neither credence, nor consideration. Anya was the cause of so much gratitude in his life already, that should she be his benefactress, he would be indebted to her forever.

“My offer will always stand, Viktor. It will not expire,” she said, without a reply from him.

She passed out each paper to each desk within the lecture hall, and when she was finished, took her place at the side of his desk, waiting for the students to arrive. She found great joy in participating in the class as an aid – from distributing papers, to quietly answering students’ questions, and lulling a student’s infant, who lain restless in her mother’s arms during afternoon lectures. Being present there allowed her to mull over aspects of engineering she did not normally have the opportunity to think about. Though she, also, was adept in the mechanics of engineering, her work in the energy research lab had been primarily dedicated to the theoretical applications of light and radiation. She vigorously applied herself to the study of quantum energy, and how to pass an object of light from one point in time to another. Her desire was always to see the stars and mingle among them – one day, she promised herself, perhaps two hundred years thence, she would be able to see them for herself. But her calculations and her sciences had all been theoretical. Viktor was the machinist, even as a child – able to create a seemingly living thing from nothing at all: mechanized trinkets and autonomous beings that relieved his responsibilities of chores. Together, their knowledge was enviable and dynamic.

Two classes passed the day, and by the third, Viktor finished his second cup of coffee. He disliked its bitter taste, though Anya always had it sweetened perfectly to his liking. As the students filed in and began their quiz, he realized he did not know how Anya ordered his coffee, only that she knew to appeal it to his palate. The intimacy of his interests being perceived by another was foreign to him, though not unwelcome.

The class completed their quiz quietly and without incident, and Viktor leaned forward onto his desk to relieve pressure from his spine. He remained there for the entirety of the test, and by the time every student was finished, Viktor was still languid on his table. Anya peered over his shoulder, and saw his eyes closed, and his breath heavy and idle. He was asleep. She smiled to herself and ventured to wake him, but he did not rouse with her attempts.

Anya stood from grading papers, and gently took his notebook from under his elbow, where she read through the lesson plan he had written out: it was half in their native language, and half in the common tongue. The class was simple, and there were no topics of which she was unfamiliar, thus she proceeded to teach the final class of the day.

She enjoyed it thoroughly, and answered every question with grace and knowledge. She was a patient teacher, who expounded when necessary, and who had no qualms in walking among her students when they needed individual assistance. When her lecture was almost complete, the infant who was regularly toted to classes with her mother, began to fuss and whimper; Anya did not hesitate in continuing her offer to soothe the child – she had a pointer in one hand, and the infant in the other as she finished the lecture.

Viktor woke to the sound of students bustling and chairs scraping against the flooring. He was mildly disoriented, and could not perceive the time. When he opened his eyes, he saw his class filing to exit, and Anya at the head of the room smiling and playing with the child in her arms. Its mother was approaching her from the rear of the class, but Anya did not rush her or show her any impatience or malice. Instead, she took the child’s hands as they reached for the shimmering fabric of her veil, and kissed them. Viktor felt as if he was woken to another dream.

As the child was returned to its mother, Anya returned to Viktor’s side with a soft smile. She traced a finger along the edge of his face and placed her hand on his upper arm. “You cannot outrun your mortal needs forever,” she said.

He let a long sigh, and rolled his brow along his arm. “I can’t sleep.” He forced himself to sit upright and stand – he leaned heavily on his cane as he forced his exhausted legs to move against their will.

Anya began to pack their belongings and reset the classroom. “What troubles you?”

By the time she finished, he made it to the exit, where he held open the door for her. He leaned against its frame as he thought on how to answer her. “The night Jayce and I unlocked the crystal’s potential – the feeling of being weightless – it was…incredible.” He looked at her as she came to his side, still trying to find the words to describe it. “I felt…whole, again. A feeling I have not had since my earliest memories. Something I long to recreate.” They began to walk the halls of the Academy, towards his apartment near the laboratory. “My every waking moment is spent trying to decipher it, trying to apply it in a way where others can feel its benefit – where I can feel its benefit, again. But my energy is limited, and there are only so many hours in a day, until my body can no longer function.”

Anya remained quiet for a while, until they approached his apartment door, and she asked again: “Why will you not accept my offer of patronage?” Frustration laced her voice, that her friend would not accept a gift she readily gave: “Is it pride?”

He furrowed, offended, and unlocked his door. “No, it is not pride.”

“What is it, then?”

“It is unfair,” he insisted.

“If my offer is not enough, I can amend it –”

“It is unfair that I have nothing to give you in return,” he said.

“I do not want you to repay me. I want only your wellbeing.”

“No, Anya,” he contended. “You are stubborn.”

She drew back, insulted, but ventured to assume his ire was due to his lack of sleep. “I am not the only one who is obstinate.” Satisfied that her friend was safely returned to his home, she quitted him and the Academy.

Viktor sighed and leaned his head on the doorframe of his apartment. He had a preternatural fear of power imbalances and debts he could not repay. He saw them paid for in blood and slavery as a child in Zaun, and he vowed never to be placed in a position that could indenture him to the will of another.

As he settled himself into his apartment – removing his shoes and his tie as he reclined on the sofa, with a hand over his eyes – he felt foolish for projecting his fear onto Anya. She, of all others in his life, knew the primal fear of subjugation, and he felt ashamed that he would – even subconsciously – presume her of such a sin. The offer of her patronage was a reflection of herself: pure and kind-hearted, with little expectation of return; he called to mind the afternoons as children, where they would sit in silence, and she never attempted to pry from him a word or an answer. She was not stubborn for the sake of stubbornness itself, but she was eager in her generosity, a trait which was foreign to him. 

He reached for a drawer in the side table, and made from it a discreet pillbox; he took from it two pills and swallowed them dry. As his eyes drifted closed, he pondered the wording of the apology he owed her, which he would present to her the next day.

Viktor arrived at the lab in the late morning – he fell asleep on the couch, and remained there for the duration of the night; his back was sore, and his neck was stiff, it took him a half hour more than usual to ready himself for the day. When he arrived, he heard Jayce’s voice and laughter, and Viktor opened his notebook, searching for a scheduled meeting or a projected visitor; he found none in his calendar. 

Instead, as he entered the lab, he saw Anya standing over the workbench, she listened as Jayce described his vision for HexTech to her. She had her own notebook on the bench, with notations and suggestions written in their native language, which Jayce could not read.

“Viktor!” Jayce called to him. “Man of the hour. I was just telling our visitor about how you used mechanical resonance to stabilize the crystal.” While his words were true, he hoped their emphasis made a positive and lasting impression on Miss Anya.

Viktor eyed Anya and greeted her with a light bow of his head. She returned the gesture, but said nothing. “It was simple, really,” he cleared his throat, averting his gaze from her. “Crystals operate vibrationally – all it needed was some tuning.”

“And is it tuned now?” Anya raised a brow, referring to his attitude, rather than the crystal.

He nodded once, and pursed his lips, still shying himself from her regard. “Yes. It is…tuned.” Viktor gathered his decorum and straightened his back with a wince as he motioned from her to his partner. “Jayce, this is Miss Anya. She is a donor to the Academy; she graduated here from the Physics and Astronomy Department.”

“She’s more than that – she told me she’s the contact you’ve been sharing our notes with.” 

Viktor looked at her, pleased that she felt safe enough to divulge part of her involvement. “Yes, Miss Anya and I have worked together before.”

She took her notebook and began to approach Viktor. “We are friends.” 

Viktor knew she meant to educate Jayce on the nature of their relationship, but he also knew it was a reminder for him. He spent years friendless and alone, that he knew the reminder of its meaning was necessary. “Indeed.”

“May I speak with you, Viktor?” she asked. 

“Please,” he agreed and motioned for the hallway outside the lab. 

Jayce watched the pair exit the lab and disappear into the shadows; he could hear vague words in another tongue, hushed and reticent, and he wondered how they knew each other. Viktor never spoke of a romantic interest – he rarely divulged personal details about himself at all. But he recognized in Viktor a look of indelible love – great admiration and awe: he looked on her as if she were carved of marble, sacred and haunted, possessed with the spirit of some greater thing than he.

“I wanted to apologise for yesterday afternoon,” Anya said. 

Viktor shook his head, adamantly. “No – it is I who should apologise.” 

“I did not mean to pressure you, or make you feel uncomfortable,” she continued.

He sighed and put his head in his hand. “If I felt any discomfort, it was of my own making – not yours,” he paused and shook his head again. She looked on him with worried eyes, and saw what lay beneath him. It was futile to lie to her, or obscure any truth about himself. “I want to accept your offer. But nothing I do will ever be enough to repay you.”

“I know this worry weighs heavily on your heart,” she said and took his hands. “I have thought of a solution: I will be not only your patron, but your investor. That way, anything I have given to you, will be inherently paid off by the work you produce. You will never have to worry about a debt unfulfilled.”

His shoulders dropped as his breath fled from him, and a weight was relieved from his soul.

“Will you accept my offer, with these conditions?”

He nodded, still breathless, and his hands held onto hers with gratitude. “I do.”

“I hate to see you so tired…” she passed one hand along the darkness gathered beneath his eyes, “...my dear Viktor.”

“Forgive me for how I acted yesterday,” he said and kissed her hand. “My mind has been tired, and I have not felt myself.”

“Hopefully now you can rest – unworried about provision. Rest – though I know you despise it –, and dedicate yourself to the science you love. Leave the assistant work behind. You work for no one, but yourself."

"And Jayce."

Anya looked towards the lab, where the broad outline of his newfound friend could be seen in the distance. She hummed, unconvinced. “He is young. But he speaks with such conviction.”

“You doubt him?”

“I do not doubt his intentions for the good of all sentient beings, but he is sure of himself, and of his goals. Such conviction can make someone blind. It can cultivate hubris.” She looked at Viktor again, and pressed her fingers into his. “Follow your endeavours wherever they might take you – but do not forget yourself, my dear Viktor. Stay, always, my wonderful friend.”

He looked on her with curiosity, but heeded her nonetheless; his thumbs caressed the tops of her hands, and he nodded carefully in agreement. Her kind were blessed with the gifts of magic and foresight, and he wondered if there was some figment of the future to which she had been privy; but he hesitated to ask, and found himself afraid of her answer.

[ficfanatictrf]

The Night Stand (Part 14)

Summary: The changes over the next few days

Word Count : 1.6k

Edited and Proofread by nobody A/N : Sorry for this one being shorter. I just really liked where it ended and felt that adding more might just make it a little to much.

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

Viktor found that as the days ticked by, the more aware he was of a simple fact. 

There was no way that he would be able to handle spending a night apart from you now. 

After his whole life always finding that he could never get his mind to settle, that he would have idea after idea once consumed by the darkness, he found himself sinking into your gentle touch. The warm and loving embrace of someone who truly cared for him was addictive, yet it was a vice that he was not worried about solving. 

Waking up nearly a week after you completely moved in, finding the two of you intertwined in such a way that he wasn’t sure where you started and he began. He was aware of just how at peace he was, how rested and simply happy he was for the new day. 

Looking back, the past few days were pure bliss. From the morning you two shared, teasing each other, his work feeling productive as he wasn’t running on only coffee, and then coming home to loving kisses and tender words. 

He found that by the time the two of you retreated to the bedroom, he was out as soon as he felt the gentle scratches against his scalp and the soft humming of a childhood song he didn’t recognize. 

In his mind, there was no turning back. 

He was completely enraptured by you. 

And as the days had passed, he didn’t believe that there was anything that would make his life better than where it was at the present moment. 

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

He also began to notice little changes around the house, the increase in reading material on weddings that he was finding scattered amongst his things. From the dog eared pages, the circled pictures and jotted notes, it wasn’t hard to come to the conclusion that you were thinking of what you wished to do for your own wedding. 

‘Our wedding’ he thought, feeling his cheeks heat up at the very thought of seeing you in a wedding dress. Whatever type of dress you chose, he knew it would look stunning, not because of how it made you look but because he could just imagine how it would make you feel. 

There was nothing as blinding as your joyful smile after all. 

And then, just as quickly as these items appeared, they suddenly disappeared. 

He woke up one morning to find that every catalog had been removed, every picture disposed of. And as much as he wanted to ask about it, the two of you hadn’t discussed them being there in the first place. Surely if you wished to discuss something about their future together you would talk to him about it? 

In all honesty, he wanted to keep things the way they were currently. You had started to feel better from the hormonal changes, able to start leaving the house without feeling sick. He had asked that you only make short trips, not wanting you to faint like you did weeks prior. 

But he was glad to see you getting some of your spark back, the drive that he had always adored starting to ignite once more. 

If you simply didn’t want to look at wedding ideas at that time, that was fine. Sure, he would be disappointed that you had decided to wait, but if it meant you being like yourself again he would wait till you were ready. 

So, after another day in the lab, having been left there mostly by himself as Jayce had been called away for some counselor nonsense, he was surprised to find the place smelling of home. 

For a moment, he was brought back to memories of his mother cooking, the foods that always brought them closer together. The kindness that was shared between them, the safety and love that the smell and food always left him. 

Rushing to remove his shoes, he made his way inside to find not just you and the food that he was imagining but a small package that you were nervously holding onto. 

“So, for the past couple days I have been working on a little project of mine” You started softly, nervously shifting between your feet. All the while Viktor couldn’t help but wish to reach out to comfort you - knowing that he needed to give you the space and time to speak the things you needed to say. 

“Before you get mad at me, I always went with a friend” You whispered, watching at the man’s eyebrows scrunched together in confusion. “I needed to travel back and forth between here and the Undercity a few times” 

“You said you wouldn’t travel far!”

“I know” 

“That is the very definition of far” 

“I know, just listen please. I always went with a friend and we took plenty of breaks. I promise, I did fine, no issues” 

Viktor was livid, just the very thought of you, pregnant and defenseless being anywhere near his childhood home. The thought of what would happen if you fainted in those streets made him sick to his stomach, and to know you were going there secretly behind his back? 

“I did a little snooping around and found a small group of people who had the same accent as you” You said quickly, drawing his attention to the food that was on the table before he had a chance to speak. 

“I believe it is…” You trail off, pulling out the handwritten recipe to try and read what the name of the dish was called. “...hal…ob..key?” 

“Holubky” He whispered softly, the bashful smile you sent his way killing whatever anger he had inside of him. 

Taking the last few steps towards your side, he reached and took hold of one of them before inspecting the meal. Just from touch alone he could tell that it had been steamed the appropriate amount of time, the cabbage wrapping being soft but not jelly-like. 

And upon taking a bite? 

If before it had felt like home, this was like living in a memory. The spices took over his senses, the familiar textures and tastes reminding him of a time where everything was simple. 

Bite after bite was taken without meaning too, not speaking a word as he ate the whole thing before reaching for another. 

“I’m glad you like it” You teased softly, seeing just how much he was enjoying it as he was nearly stuffing his mouth as he went. “I figured I should at least have a few recipes from your home up my sleeve as you wife” 

Chuckling at your words, it had been enough to get him to pause in his gorging to look over at you with a small smirk. “I don’t believe you are my wife just yet, my love” 

“Actually-” You started, the nervousness you had been exhibiting earlier coming back in full force as you slowly opened the folder to reveal..

A marriage license. 

Not the application, not the processing paperwork. The actual marriage license. 

“I wanted…needed you to be there for the birth…as much as I was trying to figure out a way to bypass our stupid laws and rules, I couldn’t figure out anything else but this” You whispered, hands starting to tremble at the idea that he would be angry at you for this. 

Flipping to the next document, you held it out as you bit your lip, anxiety pulsing through your veins. 

“With us married I was able to put in your name for citizenship. The application process usually takes months, but I might have pulled some strings by calling Jayce in today to get it expedited.”

You both were silent for a moment, Viktor’s eyes reading over the document being handed to him. 

It appeared that Jayce had argued that due to his involvement with Hextech, he was a vital member of the Piltover populace and with his contributions to the world's view of Piltover, it was honestly in their best interest to have him as a citizen. 

But, as he read over it over and over again. You saw all the issues that you had noticed till now. 

Looking at the marriage license, you cringed at the fact that you had needed to give him your last name so that the citizenship document had a first and last name - you having wasted a whole day running back and forth as they wouldn’t accept an incomplete application. 

“...I am sure we can change your last name if you hate mine…” 

Your voice was soft and timid, still waiting for him to explode on you for having done something so rash without his knowledge or consent. 

Finally looking up from the document in his hands, it didn’t take much inspection for him to see that you were shaking from your nerves being overworked. 

Reaching out, cradling your face in his hands, he was quick to try and kiss away all the worries you had in your head. With his lips trailed over your face between words, he hoped desperately that you understood that he was anything but upset with you. 

“Darling, môj miláčik, moja žena, I am in no way angry with you over this. You didn’t need to learn such a complex recipe because of this. Moja žena, I come home to find food from my childhood, to find that you are not my fiancee but my wife, to know that now I can be by your side in the hospital forever more?” 

Finally stopping his kisses, he rested his forehead softly against your own. With eyes closed and hands still holding your cheeks as his thumbs ran tiny circles up your eyes, you found that slowly you felt the tension in your body start to dissipate. 

“I have some things I will need to discuss with you, but your actions are much appreciated. Truly, you have lightened my heart knowing that I will be able to support you during the birth. Thank you”

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

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

[beesincognito]

Perfect Strangers- part thirteen: The Jubilee

sorry I fixed the title!!!

Viktor x Fem!reader (NSFW)

part twelve part fourteen    (start here!)

Takes place before Arcane and works its way there, did my best to combine the different versions of lore. (nsfw in parts)

(you and Viktor meet on your first day at the academy and bond over being habitual, awkward loners. The story revolves around class issues and a sense of belonging mixed with lore and Arcane plot.)

*warnings: sexual content & parental issues*

Word count: 4,434

******

Viktor stood idly in his dorm, hands messing with the knot of his white tie to loosen it after a long day. You were off on a friend date with Sky and told him to not wait up, so he was doing exactly the opposite of your recommendation and keeping himself busy until you returned. Taking work home with him was becoming less of an issue as he was settled into the role of Heimerdinger’s assistant more so than when he first started. It made his home life with you balanced and stress free in comparison to the early days. Even enjoying nights where you taught him how to cook in favor of going out in public for a dinner date. 

     The week was drawing to a close and soon another celebration would wash over Piltover, trickling down into Zaun like rain through a leaking ceiling. 

     City celebrations were usually lost on you as a couple, even when you had been just friends trying to navigate your separate cultures and upbringings. Progress Day was the only celebration you ever really participated in with Viktor, consisting primarily of a quick walk around the festival out of curiosity and maybe attending a few lectures, given the history of the sister cities and how Zaun viewed the day compared to Piltover. You both treated it more like a day of extracurricular academics in the past than a true day of festivities with the rest of the city in tow.

     Viktor was unlike some of his fellow Zaunites that looked at Progress Day celebrations with a vague sense of disdain. Even that was generally uncommon save for a small sum of Zaunites that held firmly to the past. He enjoyed seeing the new inventions and innovations gaggles of young inventors and old masters would bring to the metaphorical table on display for all of Piltover to see. He once shared the history of Progress Day with you, since you lived in Piltover your entire life you only saw it as a day of prosperity and celebration.

     The Sun Gates were large and commanded the attention of those in the undercity as it walled in the entire eastern side of the city that was already situated below the cliffs that made up Piltover. It was like a dam, allowing ships to come to port and trade with the growing city thousands of years after Zaun had been the true origin of innovation and genius before money began passing through the hands of topsiders instead. The opening of the Sun Gates led to a detrimental flood that wiped out entire districts in Zaun, mercilessly killing those that had no warning of the geological disaster so close to The Cliff. 

     Despite the history and bad-blood between some citizens, Zaunites would still emerge from the depth of their city to take part in the festivities of Progress Day. Showcasing their chemtech augmentations and strolling through the streets of the City of Progress more so than any other day of the year. 

     The celebration in question that was fast approaching was the Jubilee. It was smaller than Progress Day in order of importance to citizens that participated and was more of a local affair since there weren’t global investors and inventors flooding the city. There wasn’t as much on the line since it was simply an anniversary celebration of the founding of Piltover. The city was much younger than Zaun, having only been around for a few hundred years compared to the thousands that Zaun had endured as an ancient Shuriman settlement. 

     Viktor relaxed once he was changed out of his uniform, settling in his leisure clothes and searching your shelf for a book to read for the evening. Thinking about history was always interesting and it had been a pleasure to share it with you with curiosity shimmering in your eyes the entire time despite his worries that you would grow bored of the topic. 

     He remembered how you had asked questions with an integrity he rarely expected out of his Piltover classmates that lacked an understanding of what it meant to be from the undercity with the weight of its history on their shoulders. 

     “How do you deal with it every year?” you asked him, sitting across from him in the kitchen with dinner between you both. “Progress Day, I mean.”

     Viktor straightened his back and thought of how to word his answer without sounding careless, “When I was still in the undercity, as I told you years ago, I did my best to help the people who were living there currently. Fixing their machines and factories to prevent further injury since most of the accidents were based in human error,” he put his utensil down and leaned on an open palm, “I have always seen Progress Day as it is meant to be seen. A day to celebrate the innovations of the future and what it holds for us as two cities that need each other and not just a day of great pain for my people.”

     “But-” you had tried to form a coherent rebuttal, sympathizing with the great loss Zaun went through in the name of Piltover’s progress to grow into a prominent trade center in Valoran. 

     “I don’t want you feeling guilty for enjoying the Progress Day festivities every year on my account.”

     “Alright,” you mumbled, taking a bite of your food and resuming a lighter topic of conversation.

     The book he selected was from your side of the dorm, an old botany book from Noxus you had brought back at the end of break. It was a collection of plants and experimentations from Noxian scientists that researched all of the newly conquered territories mixed in with older flora that was native to the heart of the Noxian empire. 

     Settling into the plush blankets of your bed, he leaned against the wall by the large window that overlooked a large portion of campus. Staff members were setting up bright banners adorned with cogs, gears, and other Piltover symbols of innovation on the towers and buildings of the academy. The rest of the city would be strewn with silk ribbons and fireworks would be stationed across the tallest of rooftops to be set off periodically once sunset hit on the night of Jubilee. 

     When Viktor was about a third of the way through the book, having taken his time with a notebook by his side to take notes, you entered with a loud clatter. Stomping the salt off of your shoes in the doorway.

     Apologizing profusely for being so loud when you noticed he had been reading, you took your time quietly closing the door with a much softer click than the racket you entered with. 

     “How was your evening?” you asked him, noting how he closed the book with a smile when greeting you.

     “Ordinary,” his tone was dry with sarcasm which you loved, “what about you?”

     “Oh! Sky and I went to the stonecutters guild because they had a gallery opening tonight and it was fascinating!” Your eyes lit up with awe remembering the exhibition and how some of the displays were incomplete on purpose to showcase the process of shaping stone into shapes that mimicked life. “I wish you could have come, we should go back if you ever feel up to it. After the guild we went out to a modest café out by the workshop district since we were close by there anyways. Seeing the inner city running outside of the academy district feels so foreign sometimes.”

     He watched you settle down with heart eyes, listening intently to you recall your evening with a sense of great importance.

     Changing in the open doorway of your closet, you slipped off your evening clothes indiscreetly without thinking. Pulling the waist of your skirt down your legs while cachinnating over the retelling of a joke you remembered from earlier that evening between you and Sky. Occasionally pausing what you were doing to continue conversing with Viktor, leisurely dressing yourself in fresh undergarments and a nightgown with no sense of urgency and failing to notice the rising bloom in his cheeks. 

     Viktor’s moment of quiescent caught your attention more than his visible redness when you were finished dressing in a nightgown and warm socks.

     “Are you alright?” You asked with feigned innocence, knowing full well he must have watched you closely the whole time you were changing. 

     “Don’t tease,” he hunched his shoulders, a sly grin crossed his lips in response to you playfully stepping towards the bed.

     “Don’t play coy with me,” you knelt onto the bed next to him, dropping your hands on his thighs.

     The distance was closed between your bodies almost instantly. Tension abated after you were snugly fitted together beneath the soft blankets. Kissing and sighing into each others’ soothing touch, bathed in the dim light from the orange bulb on your desk. Relishing the sensation of Viktor’s wandering hands exploring under your clothes. 

     You reached down, undoing the buttons of his pants which he gladly let you slip just below his waist from where you kneeled, releasing him from the material, situating yourself over one of his thighs to lean down and continue kissing his parted lips. Practically melting against him as you sucked air out of his lips when he made you gasp with the gentle trailing touch of his fingertips between your legs. He was memorizing your movements, your trembling thighs and quiet breaths. 

     Doing his best to elicit any kind of reaction from you unabashedly keen on enjoying the way your face was contorted with pleasure. Pressing your face into his neck when you came was coupled with a muffled moan, contractions making your back arch and hips buck before he eventually removed his hand. 

     Straddling him almost impatiently, you sunk down onto him. His hands snaked their way up your body from your thighs, over the roll of your ribcage, and up to paw at your breasts. Your hips met sweetly at first, grinding against each other with your restrained movements until the spell was broken and you leaned down to brace yourself, weaving your fingers through his hair in a tangled grip for purchase. Audibly slapping down against him in an unspoken competition with his moans was motivation enough for you to keep pace until he completely unraveled beneath you. 

     It was a torturous rapture feeling so spent, wishing you had more stamina in you to drive Viktor over the edge one more time, but it was more than enough already.

     In the afterglow of the moment you were nestled together, the ends of his hair tickled your arm that cradled his head. Your cheek was squished to his chest, still covered with his sleep shirt as neither of you had taken the time to properly undress in the heat of the moment. 

******

“Take your time, love” Viktor assured you as you were trying to rush out of the dorm barely feeling ready for the evening. 

     Regardless of his sweet tone and pleasant demeanor, you didn’t want to be late by even a second for your dinner reservations. It had been a feat in itself to convince him to meet with your parents for the first time and the eve of Jubilee didn’t help your nerves knowing full well it would be crowded that night more so than any other banal night you could have gone out on. 

     In all fairness it was a last minute affair since your parents reached out to you on such short notice and you had to take a late night cab ride all the way back to the family estate to finalize these inconvenient dinner plans. They insisted on meeting Viktor despite their reservations about the undercity and you were positive it was all for show in regards to how well you actually knew your parents. It was a trap with no way out.

     “I’m nauseous,” you timidly confessed as you walked down the hallway with him, attempting to take a deep breath in the hopes it would make you feel better. “I don’t know if I can do this,” you stepped into the elevator with him. 

     “It’s the nerves,” Viktor brushed a lock of hair away from your neck and played with it between his fingers at your back, raising them to your scalp and massaging it while you waited for the doors to slide open after the ding. 

     Meeting your parents terrified him as well. Knowing how they felt about the undercity from what you told him was anxiety inducing enough, but he wanted to maintain his composure for you. 

     “Right.”

     Leaving the dorm building was slow business even though you had been in a hurry earlier since you knew full well you were far from being late. You hailed a car, catching a ride to the inner city taking you closer to the restaurant. What made up the short drive would have been a much longer walk which you didn’t want to put Viktor through even if he was up to it and capable. It was a risky night, meeting your parents, and you didn’t want anything to go awry. 

     When you arrived you took in the lattice work of brass that adorned the glass awning above the entrance, gilded and bright with the reflection of the warm street lamps. Pulling your coat higher up your neck you shivered at the sight of snowflakes that melted before reaching the ground.

     Viktor gave your shoulder a squeeze after wrapping his arm around you. It was comforting and put you at ease for only a moment before you entered the building where a host greeted you and got your family name down on the check-in list. 

     They guided you through a maze of tables, spaciously placed, where the overly wealthy dined. After being disconnected from your old upper echelon lifestyle, that had been your entire world before leaving for the academy and meeting Viktor, it all felt so bizarre. It was a lifetime ago, but you were able to fall back into place if necessary. Presenting yourself correctly in a modest dress and carrying yourself with all of the appropriate mannerisms that told everyone how much you belonged in this high-rise world with them. A well rehearsed act. You only hoped Viktor didn’t feel too out of place as your coats were taken by a server and you were seated at the table to wait for your parents to arrive.

     It wasn’t long before they showed up, dressed their best to see you in such a formal setting with Viktor. Not that they felt the need to impress Viktor since they were well aware of his affiliation with the undercity. 

     Viktor stood to greet them when they reached the table, shaking your father’s hand and taking your mother’s politely. 

     “So, y/n, how are you both doing?” your mother began right out of the gate after stopping a server to order a bottle of wine for the table. “The family has been absolutely thrilled with the Kiraman’s taking you in as one of their academic wards.”

     “I don’t really know what I’m doing just yet,” you had no desire to impress them with lies and played the dangerous game of disappointing them with the truth. “I've been trying to figure out little projects here and there since I’m still sort of settling in. It’s only been a month.”

     “Well, you’re surrounded by many prodigies from houses low and great throughout the city. I’m sure there are peers you could conspire with for future endeavors at least,” your father suggested, knowing full well connections was what got you ahead in the real world more so than any actual raw talent. “Use that y/l/n charisma to charm some of them.”

     Feigning a soft laugh to humor him was all you could manage, sipping on your glass of wine that you hated once a server poured it at the request of your mother without asking you personally. The conversation was already heading in an undesirable direction and you wanted nothing more than to lead the topic away from careers and academics. It would have been lovely to discuss home or whatever new hobby they may have been trying out in your absence. 

     “So, Viktor,” your mother practically had to cough his name up with the same affection akin to spitting out a tonsil stone, “how has school been going for you?”

     Viktor straightened his shoulders out, “I’m about to finish my masters and,” he cleared his throat when his voice was about to crack, “I’m the assistant to the dean of the academy… to Counselor Heimderdinger.” 

     His clarification and name drop seemed to impress your parents for a fraction of a second before they inevitably reminded themselves he was an outsider in their elite bubble. Their expressions went from lightly elated to neutral in a matter of seconds, but you were going to take all you could get. They managed to converse with him about his job and rudely asked how much he made doing it, carefully dancing around their silent judgment at the number as if an assistant's salary could compete with their lavish income from running their industrial empire. 

     “Are you throwing your annual Jubilee celebration at home tomorrow?” You asked, thinking back to the fireworks above your childhood home made you nostalgic. Watching the bright bursts of color in the night sky was a marvel when you would sit alone on a balcony while a party droned on elsewhere.

     “Oh we haven’t thrown a Jubilee party at home in years. We’ve been attending other city parties instead,” your mother waved her hand in the air at the thought of throwing a last minute celebration herself. 

     It was a relief knowing you weren’t going to get an invitation anytime soon and you tried to continue with the conversation. At least they were being polite to Viktor even if you had a pit in your stomach as you braced for the inevitable impact. 

******

At the end of the dinner, when your parents satisfied their socialization quota, you politely said your goodbyes and made ready to follow Viktor out of the restaurant. The firm grip of your mother’s hand on your arm made your heart hammer painfully against your ribs with the fear you had been suppressing the entire evening coming up all at once. 

     Viktor turned to see your nervous grin and you waved him on. Telling him you would meet him outside and you just wanted to have a little more time with your mother even if it was a blatant lie he could read as clear as the written word by just looking in your eyes. He left, trusting you were more than capable of handling yourself when you were up against your parents.

     “Don’t think just because he seems like a fine gentleman,” your mother’s voice was lowered as you leaned down towards her with a polite smile plastered on your lying façade, “that we will tolerate this in any serious manner. Soon you will realize he does not fit and you will understand your place, y/n.” Her words were venomous and vial to your ears, but you remained polite, still grinning with the love and admiration a daughter should bear in the presence of her supposed loving parents. “ We will tolerate your little school-girl crush for now, but tread carefully or there will be consequences.”

     “Viktor is not some fleeting feckless crush,” you snapped back at her through a forced toothy grin, voice still low to preserve your parents’ public image. “He has been my constant companion since I stepped foot on the academy grounds and I will not bend to your senseless prejudices towards the undercity and her people.” 

     Jerking your arm out of her firm grasp, you told your parents you loved them and hoped to see them again soon with whatever willpower you had left, ignoring their seething glares and leaving to find Viktor. 

******

Outside on the street, bundled in your coats, you opted to walk back despite the chill and the late hour. You needed to blow off steam and wanted to avoid spending more money than necessary on a cab or the trolley unless Viktor needed to rest from walking. Something inside told you the financial cut off was coming sooner than you thought regardless of maintaining politeness during dinner and keeping your argument as quiet as possible to not embarrass them.

     “Something is wrong, y/n,” Viktor saw through you like a gossamer web and stopped you from storming ahead of him, salt crunched beneath your turning soles, gently holding the elbow of your sleeve to sit you on an ironwork bench outside of a closed shop. “Talk to me… please.”

     Your heart sank. It was heavy with a guilt you barely understood. Perhaps you were afraid of involving him with your elitist family drama, but you knew he was strong enough to handle it without taking personal offense. “It’s my mother… maybe father too, who knows with how little he speaks on social issues outside of business.”

     “I guessed something happened as we were leaving,” he let his shoulders fall, “your look made me worry.”

     “They have their opinions as you well know,” you watched Viktor nod, eyes downcast as he held your hand in your lap. A gloved thumb soothingly caressed the back of your bare chilled hand. “I don’t want to get into it, just know I don’t agree with them and it’s my life… it’s our life.”

     Viktor refrained from pressing you further on the issue, already understanding your frustrations and the risks involved with pursuing a serious relationship with you. He was already in so deep when it came to his feelings towards you that it didn’t matter to him what the consequences were. It was all worth it in the end as long as you were happy and not burdened by him. 

     “y/n,” his voice was tender, “whatever you decide to do, if it’s what you want or what your parents want, I’ll accept it only for you. Though, I love you, I know the world you come from doesn’t take lightly to what we’re doing.”

     “I love you, Viktor,” looking into his glossy amber eyes, highlighted by the street light, your chest was overwhelmed with the vibrations that shook you from nerves. The stress of the evening finally got to you and the only thing keeping you grounded was his hand laced with your trembling fingers, reddened from the frigid air. 

******

It was the afternoon of Jubilee and your face was dried with leftover tears from the previous night. It had been tender and full of sweetness as Viktor made every attempt to quell your fears of thinking he would be scared off by your parents. You trusted every word he said, letting him kiss away your tears and eventually calming down. 

     You sat up with a groan in the bed by yourself. It was later than you would have liked. Viktor had left you alone per the grumbling request in your drowsy state and you were embarrassed by the sobbing he witnessed. So you took your time getting ready for the day. Holding a hot wet towel to your face to reduce the swelling around your eyes, hunched over the sink, you thought about what you were going to do later. 

     After learning your parents would not want to see you after the dinner, you felt like spending Jubilee with friends instead of family. You and Viktor planned on seeing Sky and watching the fireworks. Possibly walking around the festival tents and getting dinner together if the size of the crowd allowed it. 

     Donning a comfortable outfit for the evening, you wondered how Viktor would present himself for the festival. Feeling only slightly disappointed when you saw him sitting in the kitchen wearing the base of his school uniform without his vest and tie. He owned leisure clothes, just getting him to wear them outside of the dorms was a pain as he insisted he wanted to make a good first impression. You assumed he was going to wear the rest of the pieces, but he surprised you by putting on only his coat after seeing you were ready for the evening. 

     “What about your vest? Your tie?” you straightened your scarf, ready to brace against the cold with your old fur cap clenched between gloved fingers.

     “I’m going to be wrapped up in this all night,” he shrugged, “doesn’t seem sensible to be too dressed up.” When you mentioned the possibility of dining in he shrugged again. 

     Whatever made him comfortable, you didn’t mind in exchange for him not mentioning how late in the day it was. It was already the golden hour, honey colored light dappled through cracks in the cloud cover and whenever Viktor’s eyes caught them his amber irises shimmered beautifully. He caught you staring which you playfully denied. 

     Sky was waiting for you both on the edge of campus. Scribbling away in a notebook she had propped against her stomach before she noticed you practically skipping up to her through the already forming crowd. Tucking her book away, she hugged you snuggly before doing the same to Viktor and you all made your way to the festival. 

     The throng of people was manageable. Nothing compared to Progress Day and you were grateful since you were looking forward to going out despite the emotional rollercoaster your parents had given you. 

******

Fireworks erupted overhead from where your trio was perched along the brass railing, high above the crowds and cheered in their drunkenness. All was aglow with lights from the stalls set up to provide food, goodies, and games. Bells rang as prizes were won down below and you watched a group of children squeal over a large stuffed animal prize. 

     Celebrations would continue well until dawn that year since the festival landed on a weekend, but you knew you were not up to staying out all night and it made you feel old.

     You laughed in spite of yourself and how you would have acted as a child. Memories of the Jubilee growing up were so dull to remember since it was always a posh social affair in your family home. Dolls were more lifelike than you after your parents would dress you up and polish your appearance for their socialite friends. 

     It was better now. Beginning to free yourself from the bonds of your old life by enjoying the night out with your friends. 

******

Thank you for reading! :3 

[xxsquiddkiddxx]

I promise I'm getting around to all the Viktor requests. I've just lowkey become hyperfixated on Stardew Valley and it's kinda consuming my life rn XD plus my mental health is shit on a stick lately.

BUT STUFF IS COMING AT SOME POINT I PROMISE.

~Squeed

[iisgoose]

I Only Wanted to Protect You

Sorry for the long wait...I thought I posted this part already

“I will tell you more when a certain someone isn’t eavesdropping.” Y/N looked in Powder’s direction with a smile.

Silco watched as Y/N finished cooking, finding himself glancing at the clock. He wanted to continue their conversation privately but as they sat down to eat, it seemed like this child had endless energy. Powder talked the most during dinner as Silco and Y/N stole glances with one another. There was something about her that he couldn’t get out of his head from the first time he saw her walking home. It made him feel weak, she made him feel weak. Everything she did made him intrigued, she seemed mysterious and it had been awhile since something or someone intrigued him enough to put his own wants to the side. Right now what he desperately wanted was for the kid seated next to him to leave, but instead he just nodded his head along with her story. After what felt like an eternity, Powder got up from the table and flopped down onto Y/N’s bed, leaving the adults alone.

“Now, Powder. It’s quite late and its time for you to head down to bed.” Y/N sweetly called to the young girl. “You know as much as I do that I don’t have room up here for the both of us.”

“Oh come on Y/N. Please, just for tonight. I don’t want to be alone down there.”

“Not tonight Powder. A lot has happened that I’m still not filled in on, I need to talk with Silco.” Y/N’s face hardened, a look Powder knew too well.

“Fine.” 

Powder headed to the front door, turning back once more to give one last go with her puppy dog eyes in Y/N’s direction. Her eyes meet the stern look from both adults who were standing in kitchen area. She turned away, clearly defeated and headed down to bed.

Y/N felt anxiety bubbling in her stomach as she began to clear the dishes from the tiny table in front of her. Silco didn’t seem in a rush for her to finish her story about Viktor, which she appreciated. Just the thought of him angers her and over the years she had tried her best to forget him. She wanted to pretend that she was always from the Lanes and had never met the man. Try as she might, her mind still wonders to him every now and then. It usually came after drinking more than she would like to admit as her loneliness creeps over her while she lays in bed. She would think about the what ifs that have nagged at her mind over the last few years. Mostly her thoughts would always wonder why he never came looking for her. She knew why she didn’t go to Piltover looking for him, she knew she would look out of place the moment she crossed the bridge. She also wondered if he even knew what happened to her after he left, her worst fear was that he didn’t care.

Silco sat quietly as he watched her every movement as Y/N continued her quiet clean up. His eyes narrowed as she grabbed a bottle of whiskey and two glass has she headed towards the small couch that was nestled under the small window. She set the glasses on the window sill as she pours both of them a drink.

“Now that she’s gone, where were we?” Y/N’s voice broke the silence that had fallen between them.

“I believe you were answering my questions.” Silco rose from his chair at the table, making his way to join her on the couch, “I didn’t take you for a whiskey drinker.” 

Y/N felt a smile begin to form on her face, “It was the only thing my dad drank.” She let out a small laugh, “I didn’t have much else to sneak as a teen. Not like my dad didn’t notice, I think he was just happy that I was doing something a normal teen did.” 

“I did worse at that age.” Silco sipped from his glass, eyes meeting hers. 

“That doesn’t surprise me.” She let a small laugh as she brought her own drink to her lips. “From what I heard, it’s much worse.”

A quick smile formed on Silco’s once stoic face, “What did you hear exactly?”

Y/N felt her face grow warm. “All kinds of things…,mainly not to trust you.”

“Let me guess.”  his smile faded and his eyes narrowed, “Vander told you that one.”

Y/N looked into his eyes as she allowed a small, reassuring smile to form, “Yes. But, it was coming from the man who lied about his deal with the Enforcers.”

 Silco shifted in his seat, intrigued by her comment. “You knew of that?”

“I overheard his conversation with that Enforcer lady. I can hear a lot through the floor.” 

“You eavesdropped?”

Y/N shrugged, smile growing larger on her face, “Not on purpose. I was just trying to rest before the late shift. I blame it on them being loud. I don’t see the harm in listening, that’s how I knew where Vi ran off too.”

Silco sat back, resting one arm on the back rest of the couch, legs crossed. “And you didn’t stop her? Aren’t you a makeshift parental figure.”

“They’re Vander’s problem not mine. I’m not their mom,” she laughed, “I just needed a place to live.”

“You didn’t like them?”

“I’m not saying that, it’s more that I’m not ready for that type of responsibility. Vi and the boys didn’t need a mother figure, they needed Vander’s approval. But Powder does. She needs a bit more support and love. She’s the one I was worried about, Vander and her never meshed. I don’t think he knew how to meet her needs.”  Y/N sipped her drink as she leaned back against the arm rest.

“She has potential.”

Y/N smiled, “She really does but she insists on being just like Vi.”

Silence fell over them for a long while. Neither of them feeling the need to break it, both seating back and enjoying each other’s company. Both sipping on their drinks as Y/N glanced out the window to the streets below. 

“Are you originally from the Lanes?” she asked, breaking the silence as she poured more whiskey into her cup. 

“Born and raise.” Silco said as he reached his glass out to be refilled. “And you?”

“I moved here at seventeen.” Y/N answered as she poured his drink.

“Seventeen?” Her age surprising him. “Your parents were okay with that?”

“If they were alive, probably not.” She felt the sadness bubble up, “I moved here after my dad died.”

Silco’s face fell, “No one stopped you?”

“Well, Octavis was busy with my dad’s business and my only friend had moved.” Silco remained silent as she continued, “My dad died the same day he left for Piltover. I don’t even think he knows and I couldn’t bring myself to go looking for him.” she lied. “I was supposed to take over my dad’s shop when he died but I couldn’t get myself to do it. I let my dad’s apprentice take it over, shit I even gave him the house.” 

She let out a light laugh as she brought her own drink to her lips. Glancing up at the man seated in front of her. She felt stupid for rambling on about her past but once she started she couldn’t stop. It had been seven years since she talked openly about her previous life. It was like she opened a floodgate of memories and emotions that she had pushed down for years. 

“Sorry.” Y/N awkwardly laughed as she pulled her legs to her chest, “Didn’t mean to be a downer.”

“Why the Lanes?” Silco sipped his own drink, eyes narrowed.

“I knew no one would come looking for me here.” She looked out the window. “And no one has.”

[vikki-tikki-tavii]

Hi hi! I've had this idea for the longest time and I'd absolutely adore you if you wrote it (sorry if this is really long): a Viktor oneshot where he's crushing really hard on the reader (female if possible) who's his "friend", and he thinks she could never reciprocate but she's has the fattest and most obvious crush on him too. The reader is like the opposite of Viktor, she's short, outspoken, energetic and chatty. She constantly makes attempts at flirting with him, joking and teasing him playfully, but Viktor being the insecure introvert he is just doesn't realize she's head over hills for him. Eventual Jayce's like "hey dude can please confess already, she's obviously so into you". I would love it if at some point the reader told Viktor that she thinks he's incredibly gorgeous and smart and that he has no reason to be insecure. You're so talented btw, love your work

Awww this is adorable (and tysmmmm for the compliment uwu ✨

・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Crushing On You pt. 1 ~ Viktor x Reader

Heyy Vikki-Tikki-Tavi!~” you croon sweetly as you bounce into the lab early one morning. Viktor snorts out a laugh as you greet him with yet another ridiculous nickname.

“We’ll hello to you too. You seem a little extra bubbly today. Did Jayce sneak you coffee again?”

“No way!” Jayce called out from across the room. “You remember what happened last time.”

You roll your eyes and blush as you try not to think about how hyper you got one morning when Jayce shared his cup of coffee with you.

“Ugh c’mon that was forever ago! Why do you keep bringing it up?” You pouted as you made your way over to Viktor’s station to take a peek at the hexcore.

“Actually if I recall correctly, it was merely a week ago.” Viktor replies with a smirk.

“Exactly!” You exclaim. “Practically an eternity ago!”

Your over exaggeration manages to bring a laugh out of both men.

“Ha, man you really brighten up the place you goofball.” Jayce chuckles as he pats a hand on you back.

“Yes.” Viktor agrees earnestly “You truly are a joy to have around. You make time in the lab much more enjoyable.”

You squish your hands against your pink-tinted cheeks and giggle bashfully “Aw you guys, hehe…thanks Viktor.”

“Hey what am I? Chopped liver?” Jayce whines jokingly as he makes his way to his workstation. You giggle in a sweet way that (for some odd reason) sends Viktor’s heart beating a bit faster than it should be for someone who is sitting down..

“Of course not! Thank you Jaycey-Waycey~” you comment goofily while blowing a kiss in his direction. The golden boy barks a hearty laugh at the powerfully ridiculous nickname.

“Haha. Alright, I’m gonna head to the bathroom real quick. Be right back!” You shout over your shoulder as you jog out of the lab. “And don’t you two dare do anything cool without me!” You threaten mockingly from halfway out the doorframe.

Viktor laughs “We wouldn’t dream of it.” He comments in a soft tone with an even softer smile. A blush colors your face as you smile coyly and head out the door.

Jayce smirks as he turns his head from where you once stood to Viktor’s workstation, where the mad scientist is still smiling at the now empty doorframe.

His smirk widens as he leans back in his chair and fold his hands behind his head

“So…” he feigns making sure the playful teasing is very apparent in his tone, “when are you two love birds gonna get together?”

Viktor’s posture stiffens as he fumbles with the notes in his hand.

“Eh…” he clears his throat which is usually dry all of a sudden. “Pardon me?” He questions trying his best to sound aloof even though the crack in his voice gives it away.

Jayce chuckles as he saunters over to Viktor. “Come on Vik don’t play dumb.” he shrugs an arm around his lab partner’s shoulder and silently notices on the unusual amount of red hue dusting his usually pale cheeks. “You’re crushing on her…”

Viktor sighs in defeat, knowing there’s no point in trying to hide what apparently is so blatantly obvious to his friend.

“Alright Jayce, you’re-“

“And she’s crushing on you.”

“…”

“Vik?”

“…”

“Hey Viktor, you ok buddy? You look like a tomato.” Jayce joked softly while quickly scanning his partner’s appearance. Even though he was pretty sure he knew it was this apparently new revelation that had Viktor in this state, he did want to be sure it wasn’t his friend’s poor health.

“I just…um…are you sure about that Jayce? Does she really feel that way.”

“Well…” Jayce drawls while sitting on the desk “I can’t necessarily speak on her behalf, but from what I observed from the two of you these pass couple months, I’d say my hypothesis is at least 95% accurate. And given how extra cutesy you two were being just a few moments ago, I’m willing to bump that up to 98%.” he responds with a cheeky smirk.

The Viktor was still too stunned to speak, so Jayce continued. “…And if you’re up for it, I think I have a nice way you can officially find out for yourself.”

It will end in disaster. Surely. Viktor knew it for a fact. He could feel it in his bones. His analytical brain couldn’t help but come up with the worst case scenario-both him and the apparently not-so-secret object of his admiration will be humiliated and never want to be in the same room together.

But yet….

There is also a chance that she does indeed share his feelings. And Jayce’s hypothesis ,as baseless as it may be, can actually be correct.

There was a part of him that screamed to take a chance. After all, his entire life up to this point has revolved around him taking a gamble on a risky decision and coming out on top. Maybe he could use what ever last bit of his luck was left on Jayce’s scheme. Just maybe…

“Ok,” Viktor yields with cautiously growing confidence “What do I do?”

He had no idea what was in store, but he did know that Jayce’s cheeky smirk and the playful twinkle in his eye did little to trim the cautious shrub actively growing around his still budding confidence.

[balsamfir-fics]

a hope redefined (part 4, FINAL) [M]

Genres: angst, post S1 canon, more angst, romance, eventual smut, established childhood crushes to strangers to lovers, post-pining, becoming machine herald (sort of), dad!vik, political tensions, growing up, the human condition, some fluff

Pairing: Viktor/AFAB Reader

Warnings: series will have eventual smut, mentions of difficult pregnancy/injury/civil war. this prelude mentions spicy activities. she/her pronouns, but no use of YN.

Summary: Viktor shouldn’t be alive.

He shouldn’t have survived the blast of the Council attack, and even if he did his sands of time should have soon run out. And yet here he stands, part man and part machine, in a future he never planned for and an augmented body he never expected to have.

With no template to follow, Viktor forges a new path towards happiness as he grapples with reconciling the man he once was and the man he could become. Complicated as this path may be, he knows better than to waste an opportunity to spend his remaining years with you, the person he’s kept in his heart ever since you were children. Amidst the chaos of an antebellum Runeterra, Viktor finds his freedom, his future, and his family -- retelling these events through vignettes and letters to his daughter.

Chapters: Prelude | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 [M]

Chapter Word Count: ~3.65k

Author Notes: Unedited. Threequel and final part to a hope never forgotten and a hope at risk. This can be read independently of its predecessors, though reading those first will better contextualize Viktor and YN’s relationship.

It’s a bit of a comical sight, with Robin toddling along at the tender age of one and Heimerdinger at god-knows-how-old, with the grandfather and granddaughter very nearly the same height. At least, it makes Jayce laugh whenever he sees the Yordle and his adorable grandchild, but Viktor and you have long had time to get used to Robin growing out of Heimerdinger’s arms.

Today the family strolls leisurely across the grounds of the Heimerdinger Estate, enjoying (as best as anyone can) a warm and sunny day in the midst of a detente. Outside the glittering gates you can worry about the stalemate, but for at least the next hour you can enjoy the breeze and a picnic with your toddler.

Robin trips a little too close to a fountain, and Heimerdinger’s unfortunately not accompanied by his collection of Hextech gadgetry to be able to sweep the little girl away from the edge. Viktor steps in, a father too attuned to his child’s safety, and effortlessly collects Robin into his arms. She giggles in triumph, relishing in the exasperated but lovingly annoyed expression Viktor pulls at her.

He still marvels at the sequence of events that led him to becoming a father in his latter thirties; he hadn’t expected to make it to thirty at one point, and had long known his mental forecast of fatherhood — as hypothetical as it had felt years ago — wouldn’t allow him to physically chase after a child to the same extent as younger, more able-bodied parents. But now, as he squeezes his little girl in his arms, he marvels at how his augments allow him the physical agility needed to dart after Robin when she gets too close to danger. The fact that he can use this knowledge and his expertise to help those who need such aids for an improved quality of life is even more bewildering to him, but he is eternally grateful that he is able to do so.

Viktor spends a few minutes chasing after Robin in a grassy patch; despite his augments, it’s still wildly uncomfortable to chase after such a short being with one’s back hunched over. It’s one of the unexpected negatives of his newfound height and strength — when he was shorter, the amount he’d have to stoop was far more manageable.

When he finally manages to chase Robin back towards you and your father, he catches only the tail end of your conversation.

“My offer still stands, you know,” the Yordle says affectionately, reaching out with arms wide open (Robin burbles and runs right into them). “There’s far too much space in the Estate for me to fill it myself. You three could have a home right here on the main grounds, choosing from any wing you’d like — and it would allow me to selfishly be closer to this little darling as she grows.” When you open your mouth to politely turn down his offer, again, Heimerdinger decides to clarify his stance. “It’s not simply that,” he admits, face downcast as he remembers his late colleagues and the casualties incurred by the war thus far. “It’s rather that the past few years have only taught me that family and love are more important than ever before.”

You and Viktor exchange concerned glances at the weary posture Heimerdinger takes. Your father embraces his grandchild tenderly, curling himself around her as if to protect her from all the threats beyond the Estate gates. Something in Viktor’s amber irises causes you to raise your eyebrows and tilt your head in your adoptive father’s direction. Squatting low to the ground, you extricate your daughter from her grandfather’s embrace and gently proposition her to ‘come on a walk with Mama?’ — then you step away, giving the other two time to talk privately.

————————————————————————————————————————

Viktor fondly watches you and Robin head into the main building, where staff immediately crouch to shower Robin with endless praise. Then he turns, looking for his former mentor, and jogs with an ever-so-slightly uneven pace after the Yordle. He’s always been impressed with how much ground Heimerdinger can cover when one isn’t looking. He follows Heimerdinger to a familiar corner of the estate; the architecture of the buildings here have always reminded Viktor of some parts of Zaun. His lips lift at old memories of him running here after a frustrating fight with you, or whenever he missed home.

Viktor’s pace slows to a measured walk as he approaches where Heimerdinger is lost in thought.

“Professor,” he starts, calling the Yordle’s attention. “I’ve never minded living here. I’m not against it in the slightest.”

Heimerdinger smiles at that, but knows that Viktor needs to continue.

“Okay, I will admit that it does at time feel like a farce — for me, at least, the little sickly Zaunite boy you gave a scholarship and a home.”

“Viktor, my boy,” Heimerdinger chuckles. “Everyone is a part of several worlds, many of which seem completely separate when you don’t account for that fact that it’s the people who bridge them who break down those walls. When I was removed from the Council, I was given back the free time I once had to travel beyond the bridges and meet people outside of Piltover once again. I met brilliant young minds who were just like you, and they reminded me that I should use my long life of knowledge to help our formerly joined cities find peace and cooperation rather than fostering meaningless separation. I admit I was naive; too fearful of magic, too trusting of my fellow councillors — I mistakenly thought that if I shielded us all from the sins of the past that I could prevent them from happening again. I forgot, in my age and willful ignorance, that free will can be used for good and for bad; that giving bright minds hundreds of thousands in scholarships will not always result in cases like yours.”

“Professor, you gave me access to resources that would let me achieve my dreams,” Viktor urges, perhaps to comfort his mentor’s lamentations. But Heimerdinger shakes his head and raises a small hand.

“I should have supported you and young Jayce earlier; perhaps then your work might not have been exploited to this extent. The things you uncovered; the technologies you built — they changed the world!” He praises his protege, then frowns slightly as he takes Viktor’s hands into his. “But of course, caution is still necessary.”

Viktor swallows thickly, but is in full agreement.

“I want to offer you unfettered access to funding from my personal coffers for an academy in Emberflit Alley,” Heimerdinger says much to Viktor’s surprise. “Not,” the professor’s voice takes a warning tone. “…Not the laboratory-cum-operating room you have, though I will still provide limited but stable funding there. You understand, my boy, that I do not want your work to be corrupted by those with nefarious interests, and I want you to be careful with your work both on yourself and on others.” (Viktor nods, again in agreement).

“This isn’t a bribe for us to move back to the Estate, is it?” Viktor teases, of course — you and he had already decided to alternate your time in Piltover and Zaun for Robin’s benefit as a child of both.

“Certainly not!” Heimerdinger has the sense to sound mildly offended, but breaks into a smile. “I just think that it might be better to help you teach wherever you might be needed more, and for the moment I don’t think it’s the university of Piltover’s students that would most benefit from your intelligence.”

Viktor’s floored at the gift. No words make it from his swirling thoughts to his mouth, but the professor seems to understand.

“You’re my son, my boy,” says Heimerdinger now. “Through my daughter, of course, but I have always cared for you ever since you came to study with me.” Then, sensing that Viktor might short-circuit from the outpouring of affection, Heimerdinger laughs and suggests they find you and your daughter inside. 

————————————————————————————————————————

Watching you explore the world we live in is a great joy; it’s incredibly funny at times, because you have so much to learn, and other times completely gut-wrenching because the way you see it is so incredibly pure. It’s my job (with Mama!) to preserve that as long as we can, and I hope so far we’ve been doing well with that.

You walk a lot now, and when I say a lot I mean quite a lot. I’ve had to specifically exercise my unaugmented leg in order to maintain physical balance between the two and keep up with you. Even Uncle Jayce has a hard time — you’re quite the speedster! Now that you’re able to stand on your own two feet with less help, I have a task I’m going to give you soon.

It’s related to a little secret of mine; I’m telling you here first because I need to let it out somewhere or else I might risk revealing it by accident. Little bird, I’m going to propose to Mama, finally. Many years ago, when your mother and I were long-separated and I missed her, I would fall asleep and dream of the most beautiful things that were impossibilities once I woke up. But now they’re not-so-impossible. In fact, at this point I feel that a wedding would be more of a formality than not.

But in the past time we’ve been together, there have been a great number of things in the way from your mother and I being in the same place, safely, for more than a few months at a time. I have hopes that the universe might comply with my marital vows and allow us to have the requisite peace needed to stay united, with you in our care, every day.

Mama is asleep right now, as well as your grandfather. I thought about where I’d want to ask her to marry me, and almost did it back at the flat in Emberflit Alley when I first finished making her ring. But we’re mere rooms away from the two that your mother and I grew up in, and I think I’d like to propose to her in our old playroom where we made so many memories (and where we hope you make many more memories, too). A lot of things happened in that room, but I’ve never known sadness in that room specifically. It’s a happy place to make happy memories, so it seems fitting to raise the question while we are both here.

I did think about waiting until this is all over; by this I mean the war in Valoran that seems to be with Noxus but is really about the void. But your grandfather wisely reminded me that family and love are what we should hold to now more than ever. I can’t guarantee the outcome of the war, but I can guarantee how much I love you and your mother.

Tomorrow after lunch, I’ll ask Mama to come read a letter I’ve hidden in our childhood bookcase. You’ll probably be playing nearby with our old toys. Then, when she’s done with the letter, she’ll turn around and I’ll be kneeling. Hopefully you’ll be in one of my arms (probably squirming, I expect, because you won’t understand what’s happening), and the ring will be in my other hand. We’ll see what happens. Realistically, I know she’ll say yes, but despite that somehow I can’t help but feel nervous.

————————————————————————————————————————

Uncle Jayce came by for lunch for some reason; maybe he was lonely, or bored. Either way, I wish he weren’t here; I’m not in a mind to talk to him as I’m too worried about whether my proposal will go smoothly. 

————————————————————————————————————————

I realize you’ll know the outcome by the time you read these letters (and the scrap of napkin I enclosed just before this one) — but your mother and I are now engaged. Presumably we’ll have gotten married within a reasonable timeframe, but given how excited your grandfather seems about the wedding itself, I wonder whether your mother and I will survive all the planning.

Maybe we’ll elope. 

————————————————————————————————————————

Little Robin, you’ve been such a wonderful flower-girl. I’m a bit tipsy, or perhaps more than tipsy right now, but as I’ve gotten into the habit of writing to you before bed, I picked up the paper and started writing before I realized what I was doing. Please forgivve your very drunk, very happy, very married father for his transgressions. 

Robin, this is your mother — you certainly were the best flower-girl that anyone could ask for. I’ll make sure to hide his letter-writing materials whenever your father is drunk, though really I blame this on your Uncle Jayce and his passing of rather hard drinks to your father all night long. Anyway, you’re sleeping soundly a few rooms away under the care of the Estate staff, who were very keen on wrestling you out of my arms and locking your father and I into our room; I know they adore you but it was still a bit odd, I think, but in the least I know you are safe — ohhhhhhhhhhh. 

————————————————————————————————————————

Apologies for failing to write in a timely fashion, though of course as you read these the gaps won’t be noticeable. I read back some of the last few letters and I’ve a mind to only let you read these when you become an adult, or perhaps if you yourself get married someday then these might be a gift to you as a testament of our love for each other and to you. Regardless, I do think you’ll only be given this once you’ve reached maturity.

I suppose now is as good of a time to write about a number of things, including victory over the Void, promising peace treaties with Noxus, and your baby brother. But as I’m a little embarrassed by the last letter, despite the many months since then, I think it’s best to let your school-books cover the first two and your own experiences with your little brother, Altair, communicate the rest. 

————————————————————————————————————————

Blitzcrank clods by on the greens of the Heimerdinger Estate, watching over Robin and Altair (or rather, providing shoulder rides for the rambunctious two). They’d woken up incredibly early, but the night before you’d asked Blitzcrank to help distract them in that very event.

Viktor stirs beside you, grumbling at the sunlight that begins to streak in from the window. You can’t help it; you bite his shoulder in wicked glee. He turns beneath the covers, blearily blinking at you as he props himself up onto his shoulders.

“Didn’t you have enough last night, my sparrow?”

You flash him a grin. “Apparently not,” you muse, before wrapping yourself around him. Not that he minds; if this is what he gets for being lauded with a lifetime award at the university for his contributions to Hextechnology, so be it. It’s not every morning that they get to remotely sleep in without two kids jumping into your bed (thank goodness he’d made changes to his back brace when he did, because he’s quite sure that his children would have broken him long ago if he hadn’t).

Viktor hums now, pleased by your admission but still wondering where he might have been … insufficient. “I think you just might be insatiable,” he sighs. He settles back down into the bed and wraps his arms around your shoulders, relishing in the feeling of bare skin on bare skin.

“Perhaps,” you return. “I should think that it’s my right as your spouse to give you a run for your money.”

“That you do,” he laughs. Then he half-gasps, half-chokes; he’s surprised but not displeased by your curious fingers trailing up his thigh and closing around him. You smile at him, momentarily giving him a very innocent smile before disappearing beneath the covers. “Wait, my love, what—“ His words die on his lips as yours close around him. Viktor’s eyes roll up before he scrunches his eyelids shut; he allows himself an exhale to keep any shreds of self-control he has left. It doesn’t work that well, especially when the feeling of his fingers in your hair make you work more enthusiastically. “I really think—“  You don’t let him finish the thought, choosing instead to take advantage of his sensitivity left-over from the night before.

To his credit, once he catches his breath (and catches a glimpse of you looking like the cat that ate the canary), he turns the tables and drags you up over his face, using his hands to elicit reactions from anywhere and everywhere he can access. If the sounds you make and the creak of the headboard beneath your grip are anything to go by, Viktor has much to be proud of. He smiles against you, tongue taking experimental licks to see how you react to movements he doesn’t normally use. It delights him to know that he still holds so much of an effect over you despite the years of marriage and two children. His fingers grasp at your hips, trying to hold you steady so he can maintain his torturous pace on your clit, but you’re shifting and squirming even in his solid grip.

If there’s one complaint he has about pleasuring you like this, it’s that he can’t really say naughty things to you. But it matters little when even the slightest change in pressure has you whimpering and coming undone above him. He’s surprised at how sensitive he can make you, even though nights like these are plenty and frequent as compared to the long periods of waiting and anticipation you’d both been put through before. But Viktor chalks it up to a bit of luck and the feeling deep in his bones that he was meant to be yours and you his — not only in bed, but in heart and life and in family.

He knows he’ll still be incredibly embarrassed heading down to lunch later with the whole family (with the staff having no way of not knowing why you and Viktor failed to attend breakfast), but for now he puts his worries to rest and indulges himself in you, working you through high after high until he is convinced you have been sated at last.

When it’s your turn to gasp for breath and stare at the ceiling in post-coital recovery, Viktor stretches his long limbs and gets up to find the pyjamas you’d strewn about the room the night prior. He disappears briefly, but quickly reappears with two cups of warmed sweet-milk. Sitting at the edge of the bed and sipping at his carefully, he waits patiently for you to gather your bearings.

When you don’t, he peers curiously over the swell of the comforter to find you napping once more. He laughs — the milk is considerably cooler than when he’d brought it in, but not cool enough to have taken more than mere minutes. He leaves you be, changing into his day-clothes and heading out in search of his children. But Viktor makes it not two steps out side of the room before remembering to circle back and leave something for you to wake up to. He folks the paper and props it up against your glass of sweet-milk, then finally makes his escape. 

————————————————————————————————————————

Dearest, sleepiest Sparrow, 

You’re sprawled out in bed as our children cavort elsewhere on the grounds; I’ve brought you a warm drink that will probably be cold by the time you’re up, but it should be delicious regardless. It’s a small gift considering what you’ve given me throughout the years, but as we approach forty and still manage to have great fun like that, I know I’ll have many more opportunities to keep, hm, giving to you.

I’m off to find Robin and Altair, the two people I never in my wildest dreams thought I’d be able to meet. We’ve come so far and been through so much to greet them, and no matter how absolutely unexpected our lives turns’ may have been, it sometimes feels like this was the inevitable outcome all along. I don’t mind that much, though it’d have been much nicer to have some idea of what was to come when I was at the deepest lows of my life. Seventeen years now feels like a short period of time to have waited for our family and this future we share. Of course it hadn’t felt that way at the time, but here we are. Thank you for coming back into my life and for writing to me back then; for saving your letters instead of discarding those unsent.

I don’t know what the next seventeen will hold for us as the children grow up and find their own paths forward, but I am looking forward to what is to come so long as it is with you.

But for now, I hope you at least wake up at a reasonable hour and join us for lunch, so that we might cherish these short days while the children are young and relish in the warmth of family. And if you’re not awake by then, I’ll take it upon myself to find creative ways of getting you up… though perhaps my methods may be counterintuitive if this is how soundly you sleep when I choose how to bid you good morning. 

I’ll see you soon, but somehow I still can’t wait. 

Your Viktor

[fresh-new-yoik-watah]

Fault Lines

CHAPTER THREE:

steps and missteps

a/n: tell me why the editing for this actually took longer than the writing itself

pairing: Viktor x OC

word count: 3.4k

MASTERLIST

——————————

Viktor had expected something far grander for someone like Soleil—a sprawling estate with spires piercing the sky, perhaps a fountain in the courtyard. Instead, the estate beyond the gilded gates was almost unassuming by Piltover standards. The house, though incredibly well-maintained, was modest in comparison to something like the Kiramman castle—as Viktor liked to call it—maybe barely half its size.

He walked alongside Jayce, his cane tapping against the concrete path leading to the front entrance. He wondered what he might put in a yard like this, if by some absurd twist of fate, he had found himself in another life living in such wealth and as apathetic as the majority of Topside. A garden most likely, plenty rows of plants. Never a fountain, though. Much too overdone and cliche.

The front door loomed tall and imposing, painted in a pristine white, surface adorned with geometric gold detailing, sharp, clean lines reflecting Piltover’s architectural sensibilities. Viktor grimaced. Wealth, it seemed, was measured by how inconvenient one could make their life and call it luxury, he couldn’t imagine how someone could genuinely enjoy a door so large.

His steps faltered as they approached. Jayce, however, strode forward without hesitation, as if the world had been made to accommodate him, and reached for the door handle, pushing it open with ease that made it appear practically weightless. Viktor could only hope that Jayce had been explicitly instructed to simply walk in, the skin between his brows tightening, and follow behind.

They stepped into an entry room with high ceilings, the space bathed in a golden glow from an ornate floral chandelier strung above. Ahead, two staircases curved upward, mirroring and meeting at a second floor like halves of a whole, framing the room symmetrically. Viktor’s cane muffled into softened thuds as they crossed onto a deep blue carpet, its surface embroidered with patterns of white lilies, their petals rippling as if under the distortion of water.

His gaze was drawn to the expanse of wall between the staircases. Suspended there within an elaborate gold frame that curled like delicate vines, hung a large portrait of a family of three, an unrecognizable man and woman standing behind the centerpiece of the composition—a seated girl, no more than probably thirteen or fourteen, posture upright but much less rigid than the adults who loomed over her. Unlike their formal, refined practiced expressions, hers was something lighter, something unpolished, a bit mischievous. Sharp red bangs fell just above thin, pale brows, leaving the constellation of three freckles exposed against an otherwise blank canvas.

Viktor’s stomach twisted. Of course.

He glanced at Jayce, who still continued onward, unbothered, confidence unshaken, conveniently oblivious to his scowl.

A soft creak of floorboards pulled his attention, a deep voice following.

“Gentlemen.”

He turned toward the sound, cane twisting as he leaned on it for balance. Standing across the room was Soleil, sporting a vibrant purple vest layered over a muted brown button-up, and beside him, a man Viktor recognized as an older version of the one in the painting, his features now softened by streaks of wrinkles and uneven patches of age-spotted skin.

Jayce moved to stand beside Viktor, greeting the men. “This is my partner, Viktor,” he began with a gesture toward him. “Viktor, this is—”

“Thomas, Seren,” the older man cut through smoothly, a voice firm, the kind that didn’t wait for invitations to speak. “I know all about you, Viktor. Inventor. Idealist.”

He blinked, processing the descriptors, unsure if he would describe himself such. The interruption felt eerily familiar, instantly reminding him of someone else. He knew exactly where Rosie had inherited the habit.

Seren stepped forward, extending a gloved hand. “Finally, I can put a name to the face I’ve heard so much about.”

Viktor clasped the offered hand, his own grip firm, but before he could respond, Soleil spoke.

“My friend was kind enough to lend us his parlor this afternoon.”

“Ah,” Seren interjected coyly, his lips just shy of a playful smirk. “I am more than just your friend, Erik.”

“Long-time business associate,” Soleil amended with a chuckle. “And advisor.”

Seren gestured for them to follow, stepping through an open doorway. Baby blues and soft whites coated the walls of the parlor, offset by accents of navy and gold trimmings, consistent with the theme of the rest of the house. Furniture centered around a low wooden table, arranged precisely so that the smoothened warm grains reflected the sunlight that poured in through tall windows, framed by royal velvet curtains. Chairs and a plush couch bore pale cushions, surfaces perfect as if untouched by time or wear. And yet, for all its beauty, the room felt hollow, as though designed to impress rather than to live in, like a stage set up for performance.

Seren settled into the couch with a soft huff, the cushions sighing under his weight, fabric creasing as he leaned back and draped an arm clad in periwinkle across the backrest casually. His brown eyes, peeking from below thick brows that had yet to thin, glinted gold from the sun. Beside him, Soleil lowered himself into the remaining space.

“I’m glad you’ve finally seen the vision of these boys,” Seren said warmly. “They’ve been worth every cog the Council’s put to them—a fine investment towards the progress of greater good.”

Viktor’s chest tightened as he followed Jayce, who moved two chairs closer together, their legs scraping against the floor as he positioned them for conversation. His fingers flexed around his cane handle, trying to not relay his emotions onto his face.

They were young—relatively so, especially in the grander scope of their growing careers—but not boys. The term reduced their work to something naive, lacking the weight of substance. Boy implied immaturity, untouched and unbroken surface, unmarked by sulking skin from countless sleepless nights, ignoring the burns and scars left by prototypes gone awry, the toll relentless ambition had beat into their hands, bones, and minds, the sacrifice he was making every single day.

Viktor lowered himself into his chair stiffly, his grip around his handle tightening as he settled into the seat.

“Is that your goal, gentlemen? Greater good?” Soleil asked, his tone amiable, eyebrows raised with the calculation of a businessman who didn’t take things at face value.

Jayce leaned forward, elbows brushing the arms of the chair. “The Council believes new airships made with Hextech would lead to a more accessible Piltover—bringing in more trade, merchants, inventors, all kinds of opportunists.”

Viktor easily could hear the echo of the careful polish of Council Medarda’s accent in his words, the constructed response, the kind of answer meant to appease, to align their own ambitions with the promise of profit and progress.

“And you believe this is a greater good? Soleil asked, maintaining a composed expression, though gaze scrutinizing Jayce, searching for any crack in his presented demeanor.

“I try not to play Councilor,” he replied, the faintest trace of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, confidence unfaltering. “They’ve been there for a long time, and so far have had a good hold on things.”

Viktor’s brow twitched, the restraint it took to suppress his reaction nearly visible. A good hold on things? Quite the hollow answer that glossed over the gaping chasm of the lifestyle differences between Piltover and the Undercity, a child born into seamlessly tailored suits and another into toxins and hollow, bleeding lungs. But he knew Jayce’s answer wasn’t for him. It was for them.

“The Golden Boy’s humble!” Soleil exclaimed with a hearty laugh, the sound brash and too loud, seeming genuinely amused, grin wide as he leaned back against the couch cushions.

“Leave the kids alone, Erik,” Seren interjected, waving a dismissive hand. “Our time’s passed. Let the youth take us into the future.”

“I intend to,” Soleil’s laughter tapered into a smile. He gestured toward Jayce and Viktor, his hand making a lazy arc in the air as though presenting them as some grand spectacle. “That’s why we’re here, yes? To talk budget?”

Viktor shifted in his chair to adjust his posture. He knew he should keep his attention anchored on the conversation, but his focus slipped, eyes drifting past the two men seated in front of him, trailing over their shoulders and to the wall behind them.

Another portrait, decently large, framed in ornate gold like some cherished artifact, Rosie its solitary subject. She stared out from the canvas, blue eyes unnervingly vivid, locking onto him. The artist had captured her with meticulous care, brushstrokes landing on the shadows that curved along her cheeks, a suggestion of structure that would later define her features. Viktor’s first thought was that he would despise seeing himself in such proportion, his face magnified and put on display for all to see.

He clenched his jaw, forcing himself to pull his eyes away from the painting

He struggled to redirect his mind back to the discussion. Fragments of dialogue filtered through his ears—”lighter steel?” and “be enough?”—but the rest was static, his gaze continuing to drift back to the portrait, unwillingly, pulling him like metal to a magnet. His teeth pressed firmer together as if to physically restrain the irritation bubbling inside him.

She’d been a near-constant presence for years, day after day, their lives intersected within the lab, but still manageable, her existence neatly contained within a space she’d leave behind. Now she had even finally freed him, given him the solitude he had longed for—and somehow, she was everywhere else instead.

Viktor wasn’t religious. He had never been. He understood it, the pull of faith, especially for those whose hope for salvation in a next life was the only solace to be found. He understood why people clung to it, but he couldn't bring himself to share in their sentiment. So naturally, he did not believe in fate either. The idea his choices, his path, were shaped and predetermined by some external force contradicted the principles he valued: logic, autonomy, free will. Fate demanded submission, willingness to relinquish control, and he’d spent his entire life clawing for it.

And yet.

He was rational enough to recognize a pattern. The universe, which he’d typically describe as indifferent, had decided that their lives were not meant to separate just yet, threads knotted together even when they frayed, leaving him now to figure out what it was it specifically demanded from him. If this was fate, it was maddeningly cryptic, leaving him no map for aid, only fragments of a puzzle to fumble through, devouring the little time he could ill afford to waste.

His fingers brushed against the head of his cane, feeling the cool metal as he brought his thoughts back to the room, returning to a conversation now about resources. He and Jayce had dissected, refined, and rehearsed every angle thoroughly over the past few days; he trusted Jayce to fare fine on his own, Viktor’s presence being largely ornamental.

And he was nothing if not an opportunist.

“Might I use the restroom?” he interjected, cutting cleanly through Seren’s voice mid-sentence.

Seren blinked, pausing a moment before recovering with a slight nod and gestured toward the door. “Of course. It’ll be right up those stairs in the entry, then to the right. If you’re unsure, the staff can direct you.”

Viktor dipped his head in acknowledgement, rising slowly from his chair. He caught Jayce’s confused glance, a furrowed brow, but he didn’t meet his gaze, making his way toward the exit, and stepping back into the front room.

The high-ceilinged space seemed emptier now, quiet. The chandelier’s glass beads, meant to mimic water drops, refracted soft multicolored lights onto the gleaming banisters of the twin staircases, shapes dancing against their smooth surface. He gripped the railing tightly, lifting his cane in his other hand as he began his ascent, feet meeting together on each step before progressing to the next, a rhythm he’d long since grown accustomed to—painfully slow—the sting of its necessity having never truly faded during his lifetime. The strain in his leg burned almost immediately, but he pushed through. Of course the wealthy wouldn’t have a bathroom on the first floor, why would they? They could never fathom the possibility of a need for one. At the very least, Viktor would have an excuse to linger, to take his time and meander a bit—blame it on his legs.

He paused once reaching the top, resting his weight against the railing as he set his cane down, adjusting the brace on his leg and pulling it higher from where it had slipped down during the climb. A hallway stretched before him, navy carpet muffling his steps as he continued onward, stepping into a tunnel adorned with an endless parade of paintings on its walls. Good gods, there were so many. Scenes of the family gathered in lush gardens, seated beneath sprawling trees with sunlight filtering through the leaves, together on a marble terrace overlooking turquoise sea, vivid depictions with an unsettling amount of detail. Rosie appeared most often, her solo portraits dominating the hall that chronicled her evolution from adolescence to adulthood, one of her seated at a piano, another standing against a backdrop of white clouds, her hair bright in contrast, catching an unseen breeze.

As he neared the end of the hall, a door left slightly ajar caught his attention, its edges illuminated by a warm dim light spilling through the gap and onto the dark carpet, seeming to beckon him, a quiet invitation appealing to his curiosity. If it was a sign he wanted, then it was a sign he got.

He leaned into the doorframe, peering inside.

The room was completely bare, save for a single wall lined with a mirror and a beam fixed horizontally along another, and there at the center, was Rosie.

She hadn’t noticed him yet, her back to the door as she faced the beam, arms raised high above her head, fingers reaching, as though chasing something just beyond her grasp. His eyes flicked to her reflection in the mirror, her profile softened by the light that poured in through a halfway exposed window, one of its curtains pulled back.

“Are you in a fight with Jayce?” Viktor asked, his voice cutting through the quiet, the acoustics of the room magnifying the sound, bouncing it back at him like a stone thrown into still water.

He saw a muscle twitch in her back, exposed by the fitted top that dipped low enough to reveal the contours in her skin that ran along her mid-spine, reflexive, betraying her surprise. She didn’t turn to face him, instead leaning her arms in the opposite direction, stretching the other side.

“What?” she asked after a pause, sounding faintly confused, but her body remained composed.

“You haven’t been at the lab,” he said plainly, his eyes narrowing as he studied her reflection.

“I told you,” she replied, turning around toward him, her left hand coming to rest on the beam, fingers curling loosely around the polished wood. “I’ve been busy.”

He knew she was deflecting, and deflection often pointed to a truth the person wasn’t ready—or willing—to admit.

“You are in a fight,” he pressed, his tone sharper now, like a blade honed by growing impatience.

“I am not,” Rosie said firmly. “I saw Jayce this morning.”

She moved before he could reply, shifting her posture as though the conversation had already ended, bringing her heels together and facing her toes outward. She slowly sank her body downward, knees bending outward as she descended smoothly, and rose again, spine straightened and head lifted, though she avoided meeting his gaze.

Viktor couldn’t figure if she was curt because he had disrupted whatever this was—dancing, stretching?—or if there truly was something else simmering beneath the surface. Perhaps he had misstepped, had thought too much and now looked like a fool.

Still, he ventured forward, trying another approach. “I did not know you danced,” he said, voice quieter, tentative.

“There’s a lot you don’t know,” she said sharply, quick and unyielding, like a door shutting firmly in his face.

He frowned. “So you are upset?”

She turned her head just enough for her eyes to meet his for a fleeting second before focusing elsewhere. “Viktor, go back to your meeting.”

He exhaled sharply. He was too old, too tired for this kind of back and forth, this dance of miscommunication and vague insinuations.

“If you are upset with one of us—“

“I’m upset with you,” she cut him off.

He blinked, momentarily thrown. “Why?” he asked, incredulous, confusion knitting his brows.

“Why?” she repeated, spinning the word with mocking inflection. Her fingers tightened around the beam, the tendons pulling taut, then as if he weren’t worth wasting her breath on, she turned, resuming her movements, lifting herself onto the tips of her toes, pressing her weight forward to counterbalance. “You assume I have absolutely nothing worthwhile to offer.”

Viktor’s frown deepened, his mind moving quickly, methodically, dissecting her accusation to pinpoint the moment he might have said something to make her feel that way.

“I did not—when have I said that?” he countered, tone more defensive than he’d intended, frustration catching at his words.

She didn’t look at him, keeping her gaze locked forward, posture unwavering, though the tension rippling through her arms and the line of her neck, revealed by her hair tied together, betrayed her. “I can read between the lines,” she replied tersely.

“And not only that,” she added, quick as if afraid he might interrupt her, “you don’t even allow me to prove myself.”

His brows pressed together. What was the root of this?

He watched her, trying to understand, but her eyes refused to meet him in the mirror, the room seeming to stretch between them, an invisible wall planted firmly in the middle of the space.

Oh. The gala.

He hadn’t even considered that his offhand response could have upset her like this. He’d meant it in passing, a dismissal of practicality, not condescension, but clearly it hadn’t received as he’d intended.

“I apologize,” Viktor said after a moment. “But you’ve misconstrued my words from the other night. It was not meant—”

“Please,” Rosie interrupted again, “just go back to your meeting.”

She’d built an impassable barrier, and he could only stand there, golden eyes fixed on her. He found it unfair, to make assumptions about his intentions and then deny him even the chance to correct, to even explain.

What an impossible, stubborn woman.

He tightened his grip on the head of his cane, the metal cool against his palm, a sharp huff escaping through his nose. She wanted him to leave, so he would—for now.

There was nothing he could do at this moment, and he learned long ago that pressing on a closed door did little more than drive the latch deeper, lock it tighter. But it wasn’t in his nature to leave things unresolved, especially when resolution was the linchpin for progress.

He’d fix this.

This had to have run deeper, some fracture hidden in their tenuous dynamic he’d somehow overlooked, or contributed to unknowingly. Was this what was wanted from him? To make peace and reconcile?

Would it really matter so much if he didn’t?

He sighed, footsteps slow as he moved back down the hallway. Yes, he supposed it would. Jayce certainly would make it matter if his lab partner and dear friend couldn’t get along, already annoyingly persistent about forcing harmony between them. He’d be insufferable, disappointed, then insert himself into their conflict, always relentlessly optimistic, and it would eventually bleed into their work. The sooner this was resolved, the better.

The problem really was Rosie herself. How was Viktor meant to fix things with someone who refuses to engage with him?

The soft tufts of his cane against the plush carpet punctuated his thoughts. He’d need to find a way to soften her stance, coax her to a place where she would actually listen, physically and mentally. Sweets? A pastry? No, that was how he apologized to Jayce, and she knew that. She’d roll her eyes, and nothing would change.

He reached the top of the staircase, pausing to grip the smooth, polished banister, hand pale against the dark grain. He’d figure her out. He’d made the mistake of a foolish man already, spending the years refusing to adjust his trajectory to meet her comet on a collision course into his orbit, unavoidable now.

The universe seemed to have forgotten Viktor could be quite persistent too.