#fem victor vale

[discountsoysauce]

Fem!Victor has arrived

[fluentmoviequoter]

Summer Days

Part Two of Stormy Years, Rainy Confessions

Summary: You spend the summer with Victor at his parents' manor.

Warnings: Canon divergent, fluff, comfort, more poetry, confessions and kissing (the kind Vic deserves)

Word Count: 2.5k+ words

“I’ve missed you,” you tell Victor as you enter his university apartment and collapse into his black reading chair.

“It’s been three days,” he points out.

“Yes, but I can only tolerate so much missing you before it feels like missing you is all I am.”

“Elizabeth Scott?” Victor guesses.

You sit up quickly and ask, “Marry me?”

“Tempting, but no.”

Shaking your head at his rejection, you sit back and watch him move around his space. The way Victor moves keeps you entranced; he moves silently, softly, but with purpose, like a dangerous, stealthy animal stalking its prey. Although you have determined if you’re prey, you’re okay with being Victor’s.

“So…” You trail off, hoping Victor will say something that gives you hope about the survival of your young but special connection.

“I asked you before if you would come with me,” Victor says. “And I still want you to. I might even need it. Come back to the manor with me?”

“Manor?” you repeat softly. “Will you parents be there?”

“No one will. They’re on a book tour and the staff has the summer off.”

“I want to go with you more than anything. You deserve a summer with someone who cares about you, Vic.”

Victor nods before he returns to packing. He’s told you limited information about his childhood, his family, and how his parents and upbringing affected him. Between the Vales and the whispers of Lockland, you can’t imagine what Victor must deal with - the constant loneliness and uninvited judgement of his choices, hobbies, and actions.

“Imagine all the things we can do without people watching us,” you encourage. “Do you have a pool?”

“Two.”

“Then, yes, Mr. Vale, I will accompany you to the summer manor.”

Victor rolls his eyes at your dramatics, but deep inside of him, a weight lifts because he doesn’t have to be alone in that house again.

“Wow,” you repeat as you enter Victor’s childhood bedroom. “This house is amazing.”

“In beauty, maybe,” Victor admits. “Being completely alone in it eliminates some of the appeal.”

You lay your hand on Victor’s back and say, “You’re not alone now.”

Victor leads you out of the bedroom and into a library with a piano tucked into the corner.

“Do you play?” you ask, pointing to the piano as you look over the books.

“I used to,” Victor answers, watching you rather than looking at the house.

Returning to Victor’s side, you meet his eyes and smile. The air around you is quiet; there are no more whispers, no people evaluating your every move or word to determine why you’re so close to an alleged murderer. Between you and Victor, however, the air hums. Nothing but possibilities and the care you have for one another exists between you; all of the concerns from Lockland are gone. Your sole purpose is now to show Victor what it’s like to be loved. His parents never showed him love in this house, but now that he’s alone with you, you’ll show him what it is like to be appreciated and cared for. And, hopefully, he will give into his cravings and need for love, even if that doesn’t lead him to you.

As you walk down a curved staircase, you admire the details carved into the wooden railing and, more so, the elegance with which Victor rests his hand upon it and descends the stairs. It’s his space; you expected him to be at home and perhaps a bit more careless, but his effortless grace and beauty are as clear to you here as at Lockland. The way he moves, speaks, and exists is phosphorescent; it shines and beckons you closer without the same threat of burning you that once existed.

Victor has changed into some of the clothes from his time at home, and the expensive black button-down under his charcoal vest is evidence of the old money Victor was brought up in. The house, the clothes, and the expensive education Victor received are proof of his parents' success but also complement Victor’s true nature. He’s more beautiful than anyone will ever know. You’re determined to get close enough to help him see that for himself, but there are parts of him that he’s buried so far down he has probably forgotten about them. Every time you fall deeper in love with him, you see a new part of him, and you want to remind him of that and show them that they can be loved, embraced, and brought out of hiding.

The first night in Vale Manor, you sit at the small table in the kitchen with Victor as the dinner you’re making together cooks on the stove.

“I feel like I should whisper,” you murmur. “Like there’s a party or something in the other room that we’ll disturb.”

“You know, I don’t think I’ve eaten in the dining room out there,” Victor tells you.

“Should we?”

Victor looks around the small kitchen. It’s for the staff, but it’s quaint, cozy, private, and relatively perfect.

“No,” he answers. “Let’s stay here.”

“Does the quiet bother you?” you ask carefully, pulling Victor’s fingers out of a fist to trace his palm.

“It used to. At some point I realized I had to accept it, I guess. Then everything else seemed too loud.”

“That’s why you kept telling me to be quiet and leave you alone when we first met?”

“I didn’t use those words,” Victor defends.

“Should I apologize for ruining your memories of this house? Because pretty soon you’ll only remember me here,” you joke.

Victor remains serious, though, as he says, “No. As the summer goes on and I think more of you…” He brushes his fingers over your cheek and finishes, “Some places need new memories. And some people are worth making them.”

You smile against Victor’s hand and ask, “Can I recite one poem? It’ll hold me over for the whole summer.” Victor sighs, and you whisper, “Hard to sit here and be close to you, and not kiss you.”

Victor moves his fingers from your cheek to place his palm on your neck, but before he leans in, the timer on the stove chimes, and you’re pulled from the moment you were in. Not wholly, you both notice, as the reality that you’re both so different than when you first met settles around you. Victor has certainly never been the man he is in this house before.

You wake up one day in the middle of June to a heavy weight on your chest. Victor’s arm is tossed over your waist despite the uncomfortable position you fell asleep on nestled against the back of the settee. Yet it has nothing to do with the feeling against your heart.

I love you, you mouth as you roll over to face Victor.

Alone with Victor, it’s easier to decide what your feelings are. Without Lockland’s gothic country club walls silencing the voice inside you or drowning it out with the yells and opinions of others, you can realize and admit that you’ve fallen for Victor.

As the sun sets on a warm June evening, you sit beside Victor, your back to the piano and your arm pressed to his. While he plays, you watch him. When you first noticed Victor, the first night in the library when you got your first taste of how addictive his presence is, you never anticipated how it would feel or that you would even get to opportunity to see him like this. Victor has walls that he built high and thick in the very house you’re spending the summer in. Each fleeting moment of this summer carves a larger hole in his walls, and everything that you see inside simultaneously breaks your heart and fills you with a sensation you’ve never experienced before.

“I learned Fur Elise for my tenth birthday party,” Victor tells you as the final note fades into the room. “No one came, and my parents were on the phone with their editor the whole time, so I played it over and over, thinking that at least I got myself something.”

“Why don’t you play anymore?” you ask, shifting to pull one leg onto the bench so you can face Victor. “There’s plenty of pianos on campus.”

“Right,” Victor agrees sarcastically. “I’m not Brent Staples, I’m not the guy who can play a pretty tune and make everyone forget that they think I’m a killer.”

“If it wasn’t for everyone else ten years ago, who says it has to be now? If you love it, you shouldn’t leave it behind.”

Victor’s eyes meet yours, and, like the piano, you see another part of him you’re not sure anyone else knows is there. He misses them, the parts of himself he gave up in his effort to be loved and noticed. His grip on those same pieces is loosening, and the broken boy behind them is being revealed to you one summer night at a time.

You raise your hand to hold Victor’s cheek, resting your forehead against his. He softens beneath you before his fingers move across the piano keys again. It was a silent promise to stay with him, no matter how many scars he shows you, but one you intend to keep for as long as he will allow you.

By the beginning of July, Victor is different. He welcomes your touches and melts beneath your touch without hesitation and initiates physical contact for himself. Every time you see him, the words to express what you feel disappear as he does something else that makes you fall deeper into love with him. The solace of his family’s manor is exactly what you need to understand Victor Vale is everything you have ever needed and so much more. But when he shows you another layer of who he is, another hidden talent, or puts his hand over yours as he teaches you to play chess on a set older than both of you, worn from an entire childhood of Victor learning to be as content as he could in his own solitude, you feel a strengthened urge to kiss every one of his scars and show him that you will never leave him.

“Here,” Victor offers, drawing you from your admiration of him. “I thought you’d like this.”

You smile and accept the pristine poetry book. There’s a soft summer rain falling outside, so without access to the pool or the balcony where you and Victor have spent much of your time, you’ve settled in one of the studies tucked away into a corner of the manor.

“Is this yours?” you ask, leafing through the annotated pages.

“There’s only so much you can do before you have to resort to extreme measures,” he explains as he sits on the opposite end of the settee.

You notice that he’s brought a tray with a kettle, two mugs, and several snacks you’ve expressed a love of. The little things that he does make staying quiet in moments like this so much harder.

“Victor,” you murmur, skimming a letter by Virginia Woolf, “This is beautiful. Your words, I mean.”

Victor shrugs, not caring that his skin brushes against yours as he leans forward to prepare your drink. At Lockland, there was always this unspoken physical distance between you, a buffer to preserve what little bit of good reputation you had left. Your words and your touch have softened Victor, and made him feel like home can be more than an idea in fiction or children’s tales.

“Whenever I read, I think about you, Vic,” you admit. “Not that I stop very often, but if I’d known you had such an eye for symbolism and literary beauty, I would have asked for your insights sooner.”

With your eyes on the pages before you, you don’t notice how Victor watches you. When he finally says your name to answer one of your questions about the colors used in a Shakespearean sonnet form poem, you hear the difference you’d been so thrilled to see. Victor’s voice has always held a certain grace, a flow, and beauty that makes listening to him as intense and riveting as listening to a live orchestra performing at their best, even though you’re the only person in the audience. The way his voice wraps around your name, however, and the tenderness with which he addresses you, is soft, meaningful, and makes it sound like more than just a name. His tone - not unlike the poetic, pleading tone of a mortal man begging a goddess to save him from the peril of his own making - draws you in. You don’t want to hear anyone other than Victor utter your name ever again, and you want to listen to it forever.

“The sun’s going down,” Victor points out.

You look over your shoulder quickly and see a pastel sunset shining through the thinning rain clouds as you nod.

“Come with me,” he invites, standing and offering his hand.

Placing your hand in Victor’s, it’s easy to follow him. You’d follow him back to Lockland, to Merit, to the ends of the earth, without question. He doesn’t ask that of you; rather, he takes you down a servant’s staircase and into an oak-paneled bedroom with a wall of windows facing West. The rain-tinted sunset draws your attention, but Victor’s hand remains in yours as you walk to the window.

“It’s beautiful,” you murmur, unaware that Victor hasn’t looked out the window once, too interested in your reaction to the view.

“Dusk is falling,” Victor murmurs. You turn toward him and smile, but your smile falls when you see his face. He looks intense, focused, and unsure of what he’s about to say. It’s not his usual confidence, but an emotion glints deep in his eyes, a guarantee that he believes it, even if you refuse to, that makes you remain quiet and tighten your grip on his hand. “Dusk is falling, I love you.”

“Vic,” you reply softly, moving your free hand to cup his jaw. After taking a deep breath, you ask, “Do you remember all the people at Lockland who were so sure about us? The whispers that you believed, even if you didn’t notice, that me being close to you would ruin me?”

Victor nods once, stiff as he prepares to step back.

“I decided - not because of them, but because I wanted to – that I would be with you, that I would be yours. Until I am, I am incomplete. And the idea of losing you kills me. Vic, it keeps me awake at night because I need you. I have been without you my entire life, but I can’t even remember it. All I see, all I want to see, is you. I love you, Victor.”

Victor’s shoulders drop, and he releases your hand with one fluid flick of his wrist. You furrow your brows, but before you can ask what happened, what you said wrong, Victor pulls you against him. When you met him in the library, your surroundings faded. When Victor kisses you now, nothing exists except you and the love between you. The rain silences, the wood around you becomes a distant memory, and when you slide your hands against Victor’s chest, his heartbeat thudding against you enraptures you wholly. Nothing else matters; you are Victor’s, so you are complete.

“What will they think now?” Victor asks as you separate.

You smile at him and pull him closer to whisper, “Who cares?”

[darling-i-read-it]

Ally

Victor Vale x fem!reader

Word Count: 1.7k 

Warnings: technically kidnapping ig lol 

Author’s Note: i hope you enjoy love <33 i had some fun banter with this one <3 

Requested: by anon, Hi. I saw u had a victor vale fic so will you be willing to write another? Possibly Victor Vale x FemReader. Eli is a killer at this point and is trying to kill the reader but Victor is trying to find her first. He also has a crush on her and tries to get her to come with him but she refuses so he kidnaps her for safety (not yandere just panic). Later he explains why he did so and she's fine with it. She joins the little family and he begins to love her more. Idk about the end Tysm! ily writing!

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director/creator

(not my gif)

You remembered college fondly. You remembered the late nights with a bitter distaste in your mouth. You remembered the way Eli’s eyes looked when he had been studying nonstop for a week. You remembered Victor’s coffee order and test day sweatpants. You remembered the shitty dinners and you remembered the feeling of dying when it was inflicted on you by your friends. You remembered what it felt like to wake up again, like the breath inside you was so new it stung. 

You remembered the look in Victor’s eyes when he told you he had killed Angie. You remembered the last time you saw Eli before he lost whatever emotion he had. If the three of you hadn’t been drowning in the idea of a life between deaths then you wouldn’t have been stuck like you were now. You would have had a normal college experience. You would’ve been able to stay friends with the guys. 

You could’ve lost touch after college but remembered your friendship fondly, just like everyone else. 

Instead you were stuck with this torment. The powers you gained from your death were considered lethal to Eliot Cardale. Now you were stuck with trying to escape him until someone caught him. 

Victor looked across the crowded street. He was sitting down at a small round table by himself, nursing a cold cup of coffee. He recognized the color of your hair even from far away. He hadn’t seen you since the day he had been arrested. You and Eli had scampered your separate ways the second you realized of each other's intentions. Victor couldn’t blame you. 

He blamed Eli enough for the both of you. 

You were gently picking up some fruit from the local vendors. You had on a large pair of Jackie O sunglasses that you seemed to believe was hiding your identity. Victor would recognize the purse of your lips anywhere. He used to adore you in a way that a college boy could. From arms distance so he never messed things up with you. He used to think you would marry Eli one day. He never thought he would be chasing after you quite like this. 

You turned your head his way and he stood up. There was no use trying to hide it now. He stood up swiftly, sticking his hands in his coat pockets. Your eyes searched, as though you were looking for him specifically. Your eyes eventually landed on him as he made his way towards you. The surprise on your face was priceless. Your face eased into a startled expression as you held the fruit to your chest. 

But you didn’t move. You waited until he reached you. You hadn’t seen Victor in years. There were lines on his face you didn’t recognize. His hair had grown and he had a slight look of death about him. Underneath it, he remained the same Victor. You could tell by his eyes. 

“Victor Vale,” you breathed. He smiled slyly, almost a smirk. 

“In the flesh.” 

“The very pale flesh. You look like a ghost Victor.” 

“Did I spook you?”

“Frankly? Yes.” You gently put the fruit down in the basket you had found it. You removed your sunglasses, folding them up and holding them in your hands. “I would say it’s a surprise to run into you but I imagine you were looking for me.” 

“Don’t let it go to your head.” 

“What do you want Victor?” Now that he could see your eyes, unshaded by the sunglasses, he was struck with a heartstring he had long forgotten. A feeling tingled in his fingers. Schoolboy crush. 

“Eli is looking for you,” he stated simply. 

“I’m evading him quite well I think.” 

“Not well enough. I found you.” 

“Well I’ve never hidden from you Victor.” You smiled gently and gestured to the sidewalk. He followed you as you began to stroll. He kept a step behind you, allowing you to lead the way. “You still haven’t explained what you’re here for.”

“You need to come with me.” 

“I’m alright, thank you.”

“Eli will find you and when he does, he’ll kill you.” It was a promise, not a warning. You both knew what Eli was capable of. “We’re safer together.” You shook your head a bit. 

“I hear he’s looking more aggressively for you. I don’t think I’m on his radar.” “You never left his radar. Or mine for that matter.”

“I can’t tell if that was a compliment.” 

“Don’t make me beg.” 

“I’ve always liked a man on his knees.” You glanced up at him as you walked. He had a much too serious look on his face. “Victor. You can’t just waltz into my life again and expect me to leave with you.” 

“I can.” You stopped walking. There was a silence between the two of you. “Do you remember what it feels like to have my power used on you?” 

“I could ask you the same thing.” There was a tension between the two of you. It wasn’t nearly loving enough. You could feel the hostility. He needed you on his side and he was about ready to do anything to do it. 

“You can’t go to him,” he whispered. His voice was quiet in the wind of people around the two of you. It felt intimate. 

“I don’t plan to.” 

You were going to speak again when you suddenly began to feel faint. You blinked a couple of times, mouth still open as you searched to regan the muscles to use it. You stumbled forward. He grabbed you, clutching your arms. You fell asleep in his arms.

-

You woke up to a warm blanket being placed around you. Your eyes refused to open for a moment. You were engulfed in a warm blackness. It was peaceful for a few moments. Then your eyes opened and you remembered the panic you felt before you were asleep. 

You were in some sort of hotel room. There was a blonde girl at the edge of your bed that you didn’t notice and a dog at her side. Your breathing grew heavy. You had a feeling this girl had neared death, just as you had. 

“She’s awake,” the girl said. Her voice was quaint. It seemed like you were in some sort of hotel room. You gripped the blankets around you tightly as a tall man you didn’t recognize walked into the room from the adjoined one. Behind him was Victor. 

“Victor? What the fu-”

“I’m sorry. I knew you wouldn’t come with, no matter how hard I tried to convince you.” 

“I told you not to knock her out,” the little girl said. 

“Sydney, not the time.” The girl, Sydney, looked positively pleased with herself. “Can I speak to her alone?” he questioned. Sydney and the tall man slowly left the room, her dog following at her footsteps. Your breathing hadn’t evened down. You were still heaving. 

“Victor-” 

“I panicked,” he admitted. “Don’t make me say it again.” He looked slightly embarrassed which gave you more power in the situation. You pursed your lips and let go of the blanket on top of you. Your knuckles had turned white. He could tell your guard was still up and he couldn’t blame you. He had kidnapped you, for lack of a better word. 

“I can take care of myself.” 

“Maybe I can’t,” he said, snarkily. 

“You can’t just kidnap girls you had a crush on in college Victor.” 

“Who says I had a crush on you?” “Eli.”

“He’s a murderer. You can’t believe a word he says.” Despite the odds, you smiled a bit. You had missed Victor. Though you had things you had to return to, you understood why he had knocked you out. You weren’t likely to forgive that bit anytime soon but you could at least make an attempt to figure out your situation. 

“He’s looking for you. I’m in more danger here than I was out there.” 

“I can’t fight him alone. I need allies against him.” 

“Am I just an ally to you Victor Vale?’

“At the least an ally.”

“At the most?”

“Don’t make me say it.” You looked at him through your lashes. 

“Still the same Victor then.” You sat up all the way. “Who were they?”

“Runaways.”

“Friends.” He smirked. 

“You know I don’t have friends. Not since Eli.” 

“How dare I assume.” You would likely fight him about this whole ordeal when you had the strength to. For now you knew you had entered a war you had been fighting since it was conceived. It was foolish to run away from it. 

Victor gently grabbed your hand. Without even thinking, he took away what little pains you had left. Not as a kindness but as an instinct.

[sylusheart]

hi there <3 welcome to my blog! :3 i write for shits and giggles and i post all of my works on ao3, you can find the link to my acc here.

but i also post some of my one-shots here on tumblr too (i only post the ones that are 'one part' long directly on tumblr - sometimes i tend to write one-shots that end up getting split into two/three parts because it becomes too long or i just do it for easier access to specific bits of the story) ♡

in my masterlist below you can find the direct links to my fics; if the fic is uploaded on tumblr (meaning if it's a one-shot) the link will take you to the tumblr post for it first but the ao3 link will still be accessible and shown on that page if you'd like to read it on there instead!┊ ˚➶ ｡˚ ☁️

this is my one and only blog because i'm not too used to the idea of having multiple blogs idk that sorta overwhelms me atm lmao (i'm not so familliar with tumblr but hopefully overtime i'll get more comfier on here and how things work...) but usually all my posts are just devil may cry :D though i tend to write/shitpost abt other stuff too such as call of duty, final fantasy vii/xv, resident evil, k-pop, love and deepspace + more! but yeah that's basically me summed up :p

here's a masterlist of my current works and wips for ao3! i've included a key at the bottom of this section with a detailed explanation on the labels i attach to my titles :3

-------˖⁺. ༶ ❤︎ ⋆˙⊹ 𐦍 ˖⁺. ༶ ❤︎ ⋆˙⊹-------

devil may cry

╰┈➤ ❝ serenity (on-going) vergil x fem!reader ❞

╰┈➤ ❝ cowboy like me (2 part one-shot) dante x fem!reader ❞ WIP

╰┈➤ ❝ made for me (one-shot) nico x fem!reader ❞ WIP

╰┈➤ ❝ heavy chain (one-shot) vergil x fem!reader ❞ WIP

╰┈➤ ❝ awakened (on-going) vergil x fem!reader ❞ WIP

love and deepspace

╰┈➤ ❝ candles for caleb (one-shot) caleb x fem!reader ❞ WIP

╰┈➤ ❝ mile high club (one-shot) xavier x fem!reader ❞ WIP

call of duty

╰┈➤ ❝ king of it all (one-shot) könig x fem!reader ❞

╰┈➤ ❝ barracks bunny (2 part one-shot) ghost x fem!reader ❞ WIP

k-pop

╰┈➤ ❝ a little jealousy (one-shot) shownu x fem!reader ❞

╰┈➤ ❝ heartstopper (one-shot) nayeon x fem!reader ❞ WIP

resident evil

╰┈➤ ❝ revival (one-shot) wesker x fem!reader ❞ WIP

╰┈➤ ❝ cabin fever (one-shot) leon kennedy x ashley graham ❞ WIP

vicious/villains duology

╰┈➤ ❝ elevating desires (one-shot) victor vale x eli ever ❞

star wars

╰┈➤ ❝ restless nights (discontinued) anakin x fem!reader ❞

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ key:

(on-going): this means it’s a fic that has depth to it, in other words: a long fic! it's something i'm continously writing and it has a thick enough plot to divide into multiple chapters. i try to update as regularly as i can. you can subscribe to the fic on ao3 so you'll get email updates whenever i post!

(discontinued): this means it's a long fic that i've abandonned and won't ever be going back to. this can be due to multiple reasons but i don't tend to drop my fics if i have a good story lying underneath them, so if you do see a discontinued fic on my page it probably wasn't something i was willing to remaster/extend on in the first place.

(completed): this means it's a long fic that has multiple chapters and has been edited a couple of times but probabably not edited to perfection. you won't have to wait for me to update as the entire story is available.

(one-shot): a quick fic that is only one chapter long, these are usually unedited and raw - they're just undeveloped quick bursts of ideas i try to write down asap, but i don't usually stretch them out into full-blown fics.

(2/3 part one-shot): i aim to make my one-shot fics just one chapter long but sometimes they get a little lengthy; it just feels wiser to just seperate the whole thing into a few parts. i never go over 3 parts, because if i do i would classify that as one of my 'long fics'.

(editing): if one of my fics has 'editing' beside the title that probably means i'm primarily focusing on updating that particular fic and i won't be working on other fics for the time being until i have completed editing, i usually go into an editing phase after every 10 chapters i upload on that specific fic, meaning i don't re-edit my one-shots no matter how many parts they are - my one-shots are always going to be raw first drafts and will most likely have mistakes.

i'm open for requests, if you'd like me to drop some headcannons or if you want to ask me if i could write up any possible fic ideas i will be more than happy to consider your suggestions! just drop me a dm or ask me anonymously <3

anyway thanks for reading this far, i'm super excited to make more works and share them with everyone :3 kudos and comments are so very appreciated (they motivate me fr) and in general i just love interacting with others so please don't hesitate to!

[normanbateswife]

Pain

Victor Vale x fem!reader x Eli Cardale

Warnings: pain, you technically die and some vague descriptions of that, eli cuts himself on purpose a few times

When you died, you got sort of a cheap power. Victor would get pain. He would feel every single cell in his body individually as it withered away. Eli would get a sort of invincibility. His very skin becoming able to regenerate and recount what had once been untouched. 

When you died, all you could think about was how you were leaving Eli and Victor. 

You were leaving them alone, by themselves. Who knew what would happen then? 

You had been doing this test before any of you knew how you got your powers in the first place. If you had known beforehand you wouldn’t have had your last thoughts be; What will happen to Eli and Victor?

When you woke up your head hurt. You felt weak, sure, from the whole dying thing. But you had a headache. That was entirely separate feeling from you being weak. It was like you were feeling it outside of your body. 

Eli stood at the edge of the room, watching you carefully. 

“Do you feel anything?”

“I feel like I need an aspirin,” you whispered. “God my head hurts. I didn’t drink any water today,” you said, rubbing your temples. You stood up and Eli walked over to you in two strides. He grabbed your forearm, holding you up. 

“Where did Victor go?” you asked quietly. 

“He’s right outside,” he explained but his eyes were still scanning you for signs of distress. You took deep breaths, rubbing your forehead as though it alone would alleviate the pain. 

“He left?”

“He took a step out.” Eli still had your forearm in his grasp. “You’re sure you don’t feel any different?” You shook your head a bit and looked up at him. 

“I don’t think so. I think…I think I’m normal. Just had a near death experience.”

“You were dead. Very dead. Medically dead.” 

“Good to know my immune system is better than yours and Vics.” 

“That’s not..that’s not what that means,” he said quietly, shaking his head. You opened up the door to the bathroom where Victor stood, fingers pinched to the bridge of his nose. He stood straight when he saw you come out. 

“You’re alright,” he said evenly. He had the same look in his eyes as Eli. He was looking to find something out of place, something that wouldn’t exactly line up with his perception of you. He was clearly disappointed when he found nothing, his shoulders dropping. 

“She died,” Eli said, standing beside you. You nodded. 

“Just didn’t get a cool power,” you muttered quietly. 

“Do you have an aspirin in your packet of tools Eli? God my head is killing me,” Victor muttered, pushing past the two of you. He was caught up in his own thoughts, his own worries and his own powers. 

“Mine too,” you said. “Think that’s the dying thing though. You gonna run some more tests Cardale or can I sleep this off?”

“I just wanna double check that you're stabilized before you leave. Maybe it’s better if you stay here.” 

“Not a bad idea,” Victor said, rummaging through Eli’s things in the bathroom. “If you flatline we definitely want you around so we can be charged for the murder.” You rolled your eyes. 

“You guys don’t mind?” 

“I’d prefer it,” Eli said. 

“You can take my bed,” Victor said. He sounded better now that he had finally found what he was looking for. “I think I’m gonna do some homework anyway.” You rubbed your head and nodded. 

“Thank you. Both of you.” 

-

You woke up the next morning with a striking sudden pain on your finger. 

“I can tell you’re healing Eli, you don’t need to keep showing off,” Victor was murmuring. They were in the same room as you, fairly close, but his voice was low enough not to wake you. You raised your hand, trying to find the source of the prick. 

“I didn’t mean to,” Eli said. “I’m just trying to make a sandwich.”

“With a very sharp knife,” Victor commented. 

“It still hurts,” Eli countered. “I wouldn’t do it if I couldn’t help it.” You raised your head a bit to see the outlines of the two men. Their presence made you comforted and the sudden pain had subsided, as had your headache. You were feeling better than ever truly. If this was the effect death had on you, you should’ve died sooner. 

“Morning sleepy head. You missed your 9am,” Victor said. “We didn’t wanna wake you though. FIgured death was a good excuse for skipping.” 

“You should’ve woken me. I feel fine. Thought I got a bee sting for a second there though. Maybe some of my body parts are still coming back,” you joked. Eli snorted a bit and Victor hoisted himself up onto the counter. 

“Have you seen Eli’s fun little party trick yet? He just cut himself making a sandwich. How convenient he keeps doing it.” 

“You’re just jealous you didn’t get anything,” Eli said evenly. “Or should I stab you, just to be sure?” You rolled your eyes. 

“Oh now you gotta show her,” Victor said. “Come on. Slice something open.” Eli didn’t look like he exactly wanted to but now he was on the spot. He grabbed the knife that was on the table and brandished it for a moment. 

“A paper cut. That’s it.” 

“Well lemme get up hold on,” you said, laughing. You were kind of excited. You had never seen Eli regenerate, you had only heard the story. You moved so you stood between them. 

Eli took a deep breath and swiftly sliced his index finger open a bit. 

You and him winced at the same time, an unexpected sting coming for your own index finger. You didn’t even get to see his skin reheal because you had raised your own. 

“What? That bee come back for seconds?” Victor asked. 

“No,” you muttered. “Just felt like I got a paper cut.” 

It couldn’t have been more obvious. You and Eli both had your fingers out, showing them for different reasons. Inadvertently for the same reason. 

There were a couple moments of silence as pieces fit together in everyone's heads, separately. Eli cleared his throat and then broke his own promise and cut himself again, this time on his arm. You winced, grabbing yours. Same place, even the same arm. 

“Oh shit,” Victor muttered. “What, your power is to feel other people's pain?” 

“I don’t…I don’t know,” you said, slightly disappointed. That wasn’t exactly a defensive power. “Eli hit Victor.” 

Eli didn’t even hesitate a moment and gave his friend a firm hit on the shoulder. Victor grabbed his arm and gave you both a look. You had felt it. 

“I can’t feel the impact but I can feel the sting. Like Eli hit me.” 

“Fascinating,” Eli muttered. “Do you think it’s whoever you're closest to?” 

“Then I wouldn’t feel Victor's pain.” 

He nodded a bit. 

“Would it be awful of us to hit whoever comes down the hallway?” you asked quietly. Victor was already leaving the room. Thankfully it wasn’t someone you knew but it seemed to be someone Eli did. He waved, flashing that charming smile and then gave him a firm, uncharacteristic, high five. You felt that sting in your hand. Victor slapped the boys back as though he was seeing an old chum. 

That was interesting. 

Nothing to that. 

Eli was eyeing you and you gently shook your head. 

After very quick goodbyes you rushed back into their room.

“So what? It’s not other people?”

“Maybe it’s just friends?” you suggested. 

“Well if my theory is correct,” Eli started, “it would be the last thing you thought of before you died.”

“What theory?” you asked. 

“I’ll explain it later. Just…what was the last thing you thought? The thing that got you through to surviving.” You shrugged. 

“My thoughts were kind of jumbled in the moment honestly. I remember wanting to live and not wanting to leave you two dolts behind. I remember thinking about you guys.” 

Eli leaned back on the back of his feet. 

“You can feel us,” he concluded. Victor was quiet a moment. 

“I wonder if you can feel everything, from whatever distance,” Victor murmured. “If it’s just us.” 

“That’s a lot of variables to be tested,” Eli said. “But it’s…it’s kind of sweet.” You rolled your eyes. 

“It was just instinct. Plus, it’s not a very good power. Unless one of you decides to go off and lose your mind or something, I won’t even need to know what you’re feeling.”

[runawayolives]

soooooo i'd like to request something with victor vale if that's okay with you-

with a fem!reader who was victor's bff back in the time, and who became an eo right after eli and him did she can have the ability you want

and like, victor asks mitch to find her but she just knock at the hotel door like "heyyyyyyyyy i'm back" and maybe eli tries to kill her when he tries to kill victor, but he doesn't achieve his ✨big bad eliot goal✨

and maybe reader and victor confess after this?

im sorry if that wasn't clear-

No! You were super clear! I live that idea.

Si here’s what I think I’m gonna do:

They meet in college, reader is way closer to victor than Eli, I’ll make them meet when victor was that dating that girl whose name I don’t remember.

And then it’ll follow the request.

Choose an ability if you want, because I’m not that creative.

Thank you for requesting! I’ll write it as soon as I can.

[fluentmoviequoter]

Teeth

Pairing: Vicious fic w/ EO!fem!reader (nonspecific to preserve the feel/suspense!)

Summary: The war between Victor Vale and Eli Ever is just beginning, and you find your place in it.

Warnings: spoilers for Vicious, graphic depiction of open heart surgery, violence (not exactly torture but it's on the bloodier side of things), angst, fluff at the very end

Word Count: 1.9k+ words

A/N: I got this idea while listening Teeth by 5SOS. I used the lyrics and highly recommend the song because it's great.

Picture from Pinterest

Masterlist Directory | Victor Vale Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

“Steady,” you demand. “It has to be all the way to the heart. Without direct access, this will never work.”

A moment later, you can see into his chest cavity, his heart beating within reach. As you place your hand around it, his life becomes yours.

Eli Ever gasps as he wakes. He sits up, breathless, before he realizes it was just a dream. You would never do that to him, he knows. Eli looks over his shoulder, and you’re exactly where you’re meant to be. Beside him, peaceful. You stir as he turns to face you, smiling in your sleep as he brushes his fingers over your cheekbone.

“Some days you’re the only thing I know,” he whispers. “Only thing that’s burning when the nights grow cold.”

“Nightmare?” you ask without opening your eyes.

Eli hums, and you place your hand on his and encourage, “You’ll heal from it. Just like you heal from everything else.”

“Yeah,” Eli agrees under his breath.

As he lies down, he can’t look away from you. Something inside of him pushes him to beg you to stay, make you promise to be there when he wakes up in the morning, but as you move closer to him, he knows he doesn’t have to beg. You’ll be there.

“Eli!” you yell from the other room. “Focus.”

Eli follows your voice, then pauses in the doorway of your shared bedroom to watch you. On the bed, you’re leaning forward with your head in your hands, whispering something to yourself.

“You okay?” Eli inquires.

You chuckle and answer, “I’d be better if I could get a moment away from you.” You close your eyes and sigh before you stand and turn toward Eli. “I’m sorry.”

Eli shrugs, and pressure builds in his chest when you reach out for him. “It’s fine,” he assures.

“No, I… I guess I’m just feeling lost. That’s no reason to push you away. Stay with me?” You smile as you brush your fingers through his hair. “Please stay with me, Eli,” you whisper.

Eli can’t speak, the pressure around his heart turning into a gripping pain. He nods and pulls you close. Immediately, the pain disappears, and he’s left with nothing but you.

You can feel Eli looking around as if he thinks something is missing. Moments like these are becoming more frequent, and you’re unsure how to deal with them. One wrong step, and you know he could leave you forever. Or worse.

“Stay with me,” you murmur against his shirt, speaking directly to his heart. “I’ll beg you to stay, Eli.”

“Sometimes you’re a stranger in my bed!” Eli accuses. “I don’t know if you love me or you want me dead.”

You clench your jaw and pull your arms tightly across your chest. There’s a hatred for Eli inside you, and you’re powerless to hide it.

“Something in the way you’re looking through my eyes…” Eli adds. “I don’t know if I’m gonna make it out alive.”

“What do you want to hear, Eli?” you ask. “If I tell you I love you, you’ll think I’m lying, but if I agree and say I hate you and want you to leave, you’ll say I’m baiting you! I can’t keep playing this game.”

“You’re the best thing in my life, I look at you and I see my wife. Then you turn into somebody I don’t know.”

You step toward Eli, daring him to come closer and say, “Take what you want, Eli. You and I both know you’re too scared to ask for it and this relationship was doomed from the beginning. So, take what you need and run. I won’t be surprised if I wake up alone.”

Eli’s arms drop as his gaze hardens. For a moment, you think this is the end. Then, he mumbles, “I just need some air. I’ll… I’ll be back tomorrow.”

As the door closes behind him, you sigh. There’s a photo from Lockland on the table beside you, and your smile between Eli and Victor’s masks makes you reconsider everything. But tonight, you have something important to do. Then you can call Eli and apologize. If he answers.

Your leg bounces as the phone rings. Your relationship with Eli isn’t new, but there’s still so much you don’t know about him. Like if he’ll accept your apologies or the lies you insulate them with.

“Hey,” Eli answers.

“Hi,” you greet, pulling your knees toward your chest. “Listen, I’m sorry about last night. I shouldn’t have said those things to you- to anyone, because they aren’t true.”

“No?”

“Of course not. I love you, Eli. I love you more than anything else in the world. But if you decided that there’s something else, someone else, out there that would be better for you-“ you pause and take a shaky breath – “then I love you enough to let you go.”

Eli is silent for several seconds after you finish. He muses, “You said you’d call me in the morning to apologize and every little lie gives me butterflies. Better is with you, you’re the only thing saving me from myself.”

“You’re coming home?” you ask, avoiding looking at the picture of Victor beside you.

“Yes. In a while. There’s something I need to do first.”

“Oh, okay. Be careful, Eli. I love you.”

The line beeps as Eli hangs up, and you look down at your empty hands, pristine despite the feeling of blood running between your fingers.

Eli knocks on the heavy wooden door, then steps back to wait. He knows the woman who lives here, yet he’s never been inside. Something about her makes it hard to argue and easy to tell everything. Maybe that’s why she’s such a good listener and gives worthy advice.

“Eli Cardale,” a woman says as the door opens. “Or is it still Ever?”

“Serena,” Eli greets. “You look good.”

“I know. Here for personal reasons or is this another Midnight Incorporated thing?”

“No, no, business is great,” Eli assures. “It’s personal.”

Serena smiles as she opens the door wider. “By all means, come in, then.”

Sitting in her home library, Serena offers Eli a cup of tea before she sits back to listen to his worries, stories, and everything else he never planned to share but seems to let slip. The first time he came by, he accused her of lacing the tea with something to inhibit his control. She laughed and brushed him off, and as he shares the details of his relationship with you, he doesn’t even remember that encounter.

“It’s like she… she’s the kind of person who can fight so dirty but her love’s so sweet, talk so pretty but her heart’s got teeth,” Eli explains.

“And last night?” Serena presses. “What did you think during your argument?”

“That she was a late-night devil,” Eli answers. “But even when she’s like that, pushing me, hating me, the only thing I ever want to do is beg her to put her hands on me.”

“It’s sounds like you think she has some kind of power over you. Here I was thinking Eli Ever couldn’t get hooked by a pretty girl.”

Eli scoffs as he raises his cup. “You’d know, huh?”

“We had good times together, you and I,” Serena defends. “But this is about you, here and now. What are you going to do about the girl you see a future with but can’t survive twenty-four hours with?”

“I need her,” Eli admits. “But there’s these moments, a sense of clarity, where it seems like everything is fake, something she’s manipulated me into believing to keep me in this- this vicious love.”

Serena sets her mug aside, leans forward, smiles, and encourages, “Then make your own reality. If you want the clarity, grasp it and pull until her love shatters around you.” She leans back and shrugs. “But if you want the future, figure out how to make it yours.”

Eli nods as he stands, not because he feels ready to leave but because something urges him to. He knows what he wants, and while Eli has the clarity to see that you’ve been manipulating him, hooking him into a false love that makes it impossible for him not to return, he pulls. And everything shatters around him.

When Eli blinks his eyes open, you are standing above him. He tries to smile, but then he sees the look on your face. The look Victor gave him after Eli killed himself. Like he’s a monster.

“Welcome back,” someone says on the other side of the room.

You step back, and Eli tilts his chin to watch you. His eyes widen when he sees you and everything else in the room.

“Back to what?” Eli asks, his throat dry and scratchy.

“Reality.”

There’s blood on your shirt, a rose in Victor’s hand. You’re looking at him like you don’t know who he is. When Eli left your manipulative reality, he wasn’t expecting to come to this.

Blood on your shirt, a heart in your hand, Eli thinks. My heart.

“What did you do?” Eli demands.

“Nothing you didn’t deserve,” you answer carefully. “Tell Victor thank you for the get well present.”

“Oh, no,” Victor interjects. “Thank her. She’s the one who decided you should have something beautiful.” He twists the stem, raising the flower toward the light. “A desert rose. Poisonous, perfect, and deadly.”

“You said you loved me,” Eli says, his eyes on you.

“I said a lot of things,” you reply, putting pressure on Eli’s heart. “The only time I meant what I said was when you thought I was lying. I’ve never loved you, and no one ever will.”

You shift and lower Eli’s heart back into place. Blood covers your shirt, runs down your arms, and drips from your fingers as Victor lays the poisonous rose across his exposed ribs. He removes the clamps holding Eli’s incisions open, and the skin begins knitting itself closed over his heart.

“Try healing around that, Cardale,” Victor says.

“What was it you told sweet Serena?” you ask, faux sympathy on your face. “That my heart has teeth? Well, there’s one thing you didn’t learn. Those teeth bite. And now that your heart has poison in it and thorns wrapped around it, we’ll see who’s really the monster.”

“Victor,” Eli grits out. “When I get out of here-“

“I’m shaking in fear,” Victor deadpans, “but I’m going to stop you right there. You’re not going anywhere. Welcome to purgatory, Cardale. Enjoy dying, over and over and over.”

As you follow Victor out of the sterile room, you grimace at having any trace of Eli on your skin.

The last thing Eli hears you ask is, “Vic, do you think insanity is spread through bodily fluids like hepatitis?”

On the other side of the door, Victor thanks you for your help, then tells you to leave.

“Yeah,” you agree sarcastically. “One thing you should learn from that is I don’t give up. And you’re stuck with me until Eli meets his true fate. I just determined his fate for three days; I’m not walking away yet.”

“You heard her,” Sydney calls from the end of the hall. “And from Eli’s girly screams, I’d suggest not picking a fight for her.”

Victor sighs but waves for you to follow them. Holding Eli’s beating heart in your hands was a good start, but this fight is just beginning. Luckily, your heart, teeth and all, is still beating.

[fluentmoviequoter]

Better Off Without You

Part 2 of Better Off Without Me

Pairing: Victor Vale x fem!reader

Summary: Ten years after Victor pushed you away, you meet again. Your roles have been reversed, and Victor must work to show you that he wants you. First, he must deal with your reluctance to be near him.

Warnings: spoilers for Vicious, mentions/depictions of insecurity, angst, fluff

Word Count: 2.9k+ words

A/N: Title from better of without me by Matt Hansen (Spotify link).

Picture from Pinterest

“Victor,” you coo. “C’mon, we have stuff to do. Wake up, sleepy head.”

“No.”

Victor reaches out and takes your hand as he answers, though he doesn’t move from your shared bed. His answer is precisely what you expect, and the peaceful look on his face seems… completely out of character and slightly concerning.

You wake quickly and sit up with a gasp. The darkness is your only constant, and the empty space beside you serves only as a reminder of what you have lost. Textbooks and diplomas line the bookshelf across the room yet your college memories only remind you of what could have been different.

Less than twenty miles away, Lockland stands sentinel, where gothic architecture meets country club. The idea saddens you because once, you sat in Lockland trying your hardest to get close to Victor Vale. And then he pushed you away.

You want to forget Victor. The promise that you made to stay close is one that you could easily break, that you should break. It would only take a moment to pack up what truly matters and leave it all behind. But the 22-year-old Victor in your mind makes you stay; the Victor that leaned in close in the library and wanted your attention is the one you try to remember. The questions you had the night he let you go – although he let you go the moment he met Angie – continue to plague your mind. Looking back, Victor gave you every sign you needed to see that he wasn’t interested, he would never pick you, and that the dream life you wanted was just that: a dream.

You must get out of bed and escape your memories, so you get dressed and leave. As your mind races, you don’t notice which direction you are walking.

✯✯✯✯✯

Ten years have changed a lot of things. Victor Vale is nothing like the kid he left behind a decade ago. Now that he is free from the chains of Eli Ever, and from prison, and in a position to get everything he has ever wanted, Victor finds himself stuck. Every night in prison, Victor thought of the things he would get when he got out: a shiny, materialistic reward waiting in his future. Even as his mind wavered between which would be more rewarding, a comfortable bed or a room of his own, there was one constant. Victor craved someone more than any of the things he thought of.

“Hey, didn’t you go to school at Lockland?” Sydney asks from the backseat.

Victor clears his mind of his daydream, of a past that led him to a different future, and hums.

“It’s, like, ten miles from here,” she adds. 

“Too dangerous,” Victor answers quickly.

“Oh, yeah,” Sydney agrees sarcastically. “I’m sure the exact same security guards from the night you died are just waiting for you to show your face again.”

“Why the sudden interest in Lockland?”

“The kid has been in hotel rooms since we picked her up,” Mitch points out. “Surely a driveby in the middle of the night won’t hurt.”

Victor rolls his eyes; he is used to Sydney and Mitch teaming up against him (even Dol, when he’s around). He sighs but nods, and Mitch slows to turn toward Victor’s past.

✯✯✯✯✯

The only thing that has changed is the addition of one streetlight. In the minimal light, the stretch of sidewalk where you last saw Victor looks just as dismal as in your memories. A girl laughs on the other side of the tree, and you turn to walk away. Someone is blocking the path, and you freeze, unsure if you’re dreaming, time traveling, or incredibly unlucky.

Victor says your name and takes a step toward you. You match his step as you move back, keeping distance between you. The distance was his decision, he forced you back, yet he seems surprised by your movement.

“Vic, we…” Sydney begins, but she trails off when she sees Victor.

“You stayed close,” Victor says softly. “I thought that was just-“

“A trick to convince you to pick me instead of someone else?” you suggest as you remind him of what he said the last time you spoke. “But it doesn’t matter, right? If I don’t matter, which we both know I don’t, then where I live doesn’t matter either.”

“I-“ 

Victor can’t form a sentence and feels inadequate for once in his life. He looks at you and remembers what you used to be like. You were bright and open, and whatever light you used to have that you were kind enough to show Victor has been thoroughly put out. By him.

“I went to prison,” Victor says.

“I know,” you answer. You cross your arms as an added layer of defense, but your fight-or-flight responses are kicking in. You hate that you remember Victor knows all about those adrenal triggers.

“You said you’d stay close for me. If you meant that, my friends over there could use a safe place to stay, to lay low while everything blows over.”

Sydney and Mitch wave when you look over, and you fight the urge to ask Victor why he let other people trail along with him but was so against letting you in when he needed someone most.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” you respond. “You don’t like me, Vic, so let’s just do what we do best and walk away from each other.”

As you and Victor continue staring at one another, you’re both feeling the same thing: reluctance. You want to be there for Victor, but he left once, and you know he will do it again; you invited him to get close once and have regretted it ever since. Victor, however, is only reluctant to stay with you for your safety. He has feelings for you, and they hit him with full force as he looks at the sadness in your eyes. The sadness and loneliness that he caused.

“Bye, Vic.”

You turn to leave, and Victor refuses to let you walk away once more. He has to do something before you are too far to reach. Again.

“I love you!” Victor calls.

The statement catches you, Victor, Sydney, and Mitch by surprise. You stop with your back to him and wonder if you really are dreaming. Victor doesn’t know where it came from, but he knows that it’s true. He may not even know what love truly is, but if he is going to find out with someone it is going to be you.

“I tried not to,” he adds. “I had to deal with Eli, and you were so close that it scared me. But don’t make me watch you walk away again, not without giving me a chance.”

“Stop,” you demand as you turn toward him. “You don’t get to walk back into my life after ten years and tell me that you love me. You broke me, Vic! I let you get close, I was desperate to keep you close, and you shattered everything I thought we had. I can’t do this again. I won’t do this again. You may think you love me, but I know you well enough to know that you don’t. Using me to get to the point that you need is not worth it, Vic. If you need help, say that, but don’t lie to me.”

“I lied to you once. And it wasn’t tonight.”

“Stop,” you repeat.

“I need you. You are the only thing I have ever needed.”

“Prison will make you think you need a lot of things.”

“Can you just, for a second, consider giving me a chance to show you that I am not the same as I was ten years ago.”

You chuckle, but there is nothing funny about losing Victor a second time. “I have no doubt about that… You have a week, and then, like it or not, one of us is walking away.”

Victor takes the chance, and as he follows you home, he decides to be selfish for once. He wants you, and he is going to get you. Of all the mistakes Victor has made in his life, two of them haunt him: not telling Angie how he felt, and letting you go. Now that he can admit that he loves you like he’s never loved anyone before, he wants you to be with him. A week isn’t much time, but Victor is going to use every moment to convince you and get what he wants.

✯✯✯✯✯

When you wake the following morning, you assume that running into Victor at Lockland was a dream. However, the noise that can only be described as chaotic coming from your kitchen makes you think differently. Mitch and Sydney are in your kitchen, and Mitch’s efforts to stay quiet are canceled out by Sydney’s excitement to be out of a hotel room (if only for a week).

“Sorry,” Victor mumbles as he walks behind you. “She doesn’t get out much.”

“Thanks to you,” Sydney adds quickly.

“It’s no problem,” you say softly. “I, uh- Do I want to know why you need to lay low?”

“Probably not,” Victor answers. “But if you ask, I’ll tell you.”

You move to the left to increase space between you and Victor as you shake your head. The reluctance from last night has strengthened, and you briefly consider locking yourself in your room until they leave.

Victor places a mug before you. “You still like it the same way?”

You nod and pull your favorite drink closer to you. Victor's actions and words align, but the stark contrast between the current Victor and the Victor that forced you to walk away years ago makes you hesitate. 

“Most people say, ‘thank you.’ Since you’re cute, I’ll assume you thought it,” Victor says.

Hearing the exact words you said to him in Lockland makes you look up quickly. Victor has that look, the one that looks like he might smile, and you smile at him before looking back to your mug.

“I’ll assume it’s still a hard pass on the hugs, too,” you whisper.

“Maybe you’d be surprised.”

You decide not to ask, and as you focus on ignoring him (as much as you can sharing a living space, at least), Victor realizes that your roles have completely reversed. You and Victor have traded words, actions, and responsibilities down to the smallest detail of your relationship. It’s like a dance, and Victor is already confident in his new position, but he has to convince you to trust him to lead.

After Sydney and Mitch leave to get Dol from the hotel, you and Victor are left alone.

“Why’d you disappear?” Victor asks.

He breaks the silence, and your brows furrow at his question.

“I asked you in the library, before everything happened, and you never really answered.”

“It doesn’t matter, Vic.”

“You do matter,” Victor promises. He leans forward to look into your eyes; his are serious as he holds your attention and repeats, “You matter.”

“At some point, though, you have to admit that your life was probably better. That you were, I don’t know, better off without me,” you reply.

Eye contact with Victor has never been easy, and you used to have to work relentlessly for it. Now, he holds your eyes with conviction and something else you can’t place.

“You disappeared because you thought I didn’t need you? How did that-“

“Vic.” You stand and tear your eyes from his as you add, “We’ve got a few days until we go our separate ways. Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”

“Why can’t you see-“

“No!” you interrupt. “I saw ten years ago, and you blindsided me. I’m smarter now, Vic, and I am not losing you again. I gave you space once, and maybe I never should have stopped.”

Dol barks at your front door, and you return to your room. It was a mistake letting Victor this close, and you don’t know if you can trust anything he says.

✯✯✯✯✯

Something happens during Victor’s fourth day with you. When you exit your bedroom for breakfast, he catches your eyes over the table and gestures toward your back door. Despite your doubts, you follow him. In the privacy of your backyard, you wrap your arms around yourself and wait for Victor to speak.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks.

You shake your head, and Victor looks away.

“I didn’t want to disappear,” you admit. “I came to see you in the cafeteria one day, but Angie was there. You looked so happy that I couldn’t- didn’t want to interrupt. All I ever wanted was for you to be happy, Vic, and I gave you the room to do that.”

“I-“

“You loved Angie. I could see it. So, when I heard she died, I thought you might need a friend. I was wrong.”

“Look at me,” Victor requests. “I am not giving up on you again, but if you want us to leave, we will.”

“I don’t know what I want.”

You wipe your hands across your cheeks as Victor watches. He wants to reach out and offer the soft touches you used to give him, but your reluctance to let him in is something he can easily see. 

“I have been hurting for ten years,” you whisper. “But I want it. I still want you, so badly, and I think I can trust you. I’ve been wrong before.”

Victor steps toward you, and when you don’t move back, he takes another step. When there are only inches between you, he holds your eyes with his again.

“I want you to be mine,” he murmurs as he raises his hand toward your shoulder. “Selfishly, thoughtlessly, mine.”

Sydney clears her throat in the doorway, and you and Victor look over simultaneously.

“Are you okay?” she asks Victor.

“I was better before you interrupted,” he replies. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Are you dying again? Do you have a fever or something? Because-“

“Syd, what is wrong with you?”

“You’re being… gross.”

“She sounds like you,” you murmur.

Victor takes a deep breath before asking Sydney to give him a minute.

“You have two days, Vale,” you say when he turns to you. “If you are willing to work as hard as I did, we’ll see where things go from there.”

“Tell me you can see it,” Victor asks.

“You’re not giving up on me again and unless I ask, you’re not walking away,” you reply. “I know. But I spent years fighting to get close to you. Besides, Sydney clearly thinks you have a parasite or something, so how am I supposed to know this is really you?”

Victor rolls his eyes and opens the back door. He follows you in, and when he sees your smile is back, he is glad he wasn’t dreaming when he saw you at Lockland a few nights ago.

✯✯✯✯✯

“I’m going to miss that mattress,” Mitch says as he packs his bag.

“Dol likes the yard,” Sydney agrees. “Back to hotels, I assume?”

Victor is still in the guest room, and you knock on the door before entering. He zips his bag and sits on the edge of the bed as you approach him.

“Did you mean what you said at Lockland?” you ask.

“Which time?”

“This one.”

“That I love you? Yeah. You’re one of the only things I needed- craved in prison.”

“Really?” you ask with a smile. “Because Mitch said you talked about getting a bed and a better toothbrush all the time.”

“In college, when you would talk to me, there was this light in your eyes,” Victor says. “I haven’t seen it in a long time.”

You reach out and smooth your hand over the shoulder of his trench coat. When he doesn’t move or comment on the touch, you step closer.

“Prison give you all the time and space you need?” you murmur.

“Something like that.”

 “Have you reconsidered my offer?” 

Victor looks up, and his almost smile returns. He clearly understands what you are referring to and moves his arms out.

“Test away.”

You step forward and hug him, and when Victor’s arms wrap around you, you believe him. Not what he said when Angie died, but everything he has said this week.

“Now that I’ve had one, we can’t stop,” you say against him. “So, I guess that means your hugs are addictive. We’ll have to test this further.”

Victor mumbles something, and you squeeze him. The initial reluctance you felt, the fear of being pushed away again, brought you closer to Victor than ever.

“You really love me?” you ask.

“I do. But-“

“You’re not perfect. I know; I’m not either. I don’t expect this to be easy, Vic. Surely you remember how hard I worked in college.”

“Seems like you’d get tired.”

“As if I could get tired of you,” you tease.

Victor pulls you into another hug and doesn’t move when the door opens. You push him away gently and see Sydney staring at Victor.

“Does this mean we’re staying?” she asks.

“It means I’m staying,” he answers with a shrug.

“You’re welcome to stay as long as you want, Syd,” you offer.

Sydney thanks you before watching Victor with her head cocked. “You’re weird,” she decides before she leaves.

“I didn’t want you to leave,” Victor admits. “The night that Angie died, I had unfinished business with Eli. After dealing with that, though… I’m ready to get what I want.”

“That’s me?” you ask. Your faux surprise makes Victor groan until you add, “Does that mean you’re selfishly, thoughtlessly mine, too?”

Victor looks into your eyes and smiles. “Forever.”

[fluentmoviequoter]

Literary

Requested Here!

Pairing: college!Victor Vale x fem!reader (literature student)

Summary: You take it upon yourself to show Victor the beauty of literature.

Warnings: fluff, spoilers and references to: The Outsiders, A Merchant in Venice, Invisible Man, The Hound of the Baskervilles, The Lord of the Rings, An Ideal Husband, The Picture of Dorian Gray, Hamlet, Frankenstein, The Most Dangerous Game, Pride and Prejudice. I also reference some of Schwab's other books

Word Count: 2.5k+ words

Victor Vale Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

Picture from Pinterest

Victor is leaning over a book, scribbling notes every few lines.

“What are you reading?” you ask quietly, sitting beside him.

He flips the book up, showing you the cover of one of his many textbooks.

“Hmm. I thought you were actually reading.”

“I am.”

“No, you’re studying.”

“What’s the difference?”

You sigh, shaking your head as you murmur, “Maybe the two different worlds we lived in weren’t so different. We saw the same sunset.”

Victor ignores you, returning to his notes on adrenal responses.

“Vic, what’s the last book you read?” you ask. “I mean, what’s the last thing you read that wasn’t a textbook, required reading?”

“I think you know.”

“You really need to stop reading your parents’ books, but that’s not my point here. What’s the last fiction piece?”

“I don’t read fiction.”

Your jaw drops, shock evident in your features as you fail to speak. Finally finding your voice, you momentarily forget you’re in a library as your voice raises to repeat, “You don’t read fiction? Why?!”

“Nothing to learn from it,” Victor replies with a shrug.

“Vic.”

He glances at you as a few people whisper for you to be quiet.

“Why read something that isn’t true, that you can’t learn from?” Victor asks.

“Who says you can’t learn from fiction? Just because it didn’t happen doesn’t mean it can’t teach you something. We learn from trees, fish, paintings… literature is no different.”

Victor shakes his head, and as you look at your assigned reading, you realize you must do something.

“Meet me in your dorm after your class tomorrow,” you whisper before standing. “I have a lot to teach you.”

Victor watches you leave, shaking his head before trying to focus again. He has trouble remembering how you became friends sometimes, but then he remembers how you met…

✯✯✯✯✯

1 Year Ago

Someone decided to put Shakespeare on the top shelf. You sigh, looking around to see if anyone is nearby to help you.

“Who puts one of the most-read authors in history up so high?” you ask under your breath.

Stepping back to gauge if you could jump and reach it, you run into someone. Warm hands land on your biceps for a moment before dropping away.

“I’m so sorry,” you apologize.

When you turn around, his arm is over your head.

“Which one?” he asks.

You blink at him, growing distracted, before whispering, “A Merchant in Venice. Please.”

He nods, pulling it off the shelf and lowering it between your chest and his.

“Thank you.”

He nods again and steps back before you rush to introduce yourself.

“Victor,” he offers.

“Nice to meet you, Victor. I’ll see you around.”

His pale brows furrow and you immediately decide you will see him again, no matter what it takes.

✯✯✯✯✯

Present Day

“You’re late,” you chide as Victor enters his dorm.

“How did you get in here?” Victor asks, ignoring your comment.

“Eli keeps a key hidden under the doormat.”

“Idiot,” Victor mumbles.

“I concur, but we’re not here to talk about Eli. In fact, I wish I could forget his name.”

Victor neither agrees nor disagrees, but asks, “What are you here to do?”

You raise your brows, smiling as you tease, “What do you want me to do?”

“I’d like you to leave,” Victor replies flatly. “But it seems unlikely.”

“What and how much had I lost by trying to do only what was expected of me instead of what I myself had wished to do?”

“What is that?”

“Invisible Man, H.G. Wells,” you reply, smiling.

“Why do you make everything about books?”

“Look, I’m here to convince you that fiction, that literature, is beautiful. Vic, there are more lives in literature than we could dream of living; whatever you want to do, learn, be, it’s all in there.”

“Is this going to become another debate on whether pride or prejudice is more detrimental to character development?”

You sigh, looking at the stack of books you brought. Victor watches you, and when he realizes that you’re serious, he removes his trench coat and joins you on the couch.

“You have ten minutes,” Victor tells you.

“Okay, then I get to ask questions, too,” you counter. “So, first, what is your issue with fiction?”

“It’s fake, unbelievable.”

“They don’t have to be about an immortal woman finding her reincarnated lover or parallel earths. Being made up and being unbelievable aren’t inherently connected. Middle-Earth isn’t real, but the imagery makes it realistic.”

“One out of a million, well, I’m convinced,” Victor says, hitting his thighs.

You stretch your arm out past him to stop him from standing. “What kind of fiction did you read before coming to this conclusion?”

“Uh, I remember reading fantasy in middle school.”

Waiting for more, you ask, “And?”

“That’s it.”

Chuckling, you lean toward him. “Literature isn’t about one type of story, Vic. You don’t have to choose a genre and stick to it. No two books are the same because no two people or stories are the same. There isn’t fiction or nonfiction, mysteries or romance, you can read any and everything you want. It’s both/and, not either/or.”

“If your argument is now ‘read what you want to read,’ why can’t I stick to my textbooks?”

You groan, laying your head against Victor’s shoulder. “Because I can’t rest until I help you see why literature is so beautiful and impactful. Why do you think I’m studying it, giving my life to it? Because it changed my life, Victor, and if you give it a chance it can change yours, too.”

“Then what is it you want to do?”

“Is this an invitation?”

Victor sighs as he nods, his shoulder warm from your touch.

“Then, I’m going to teach you and you’re going to be patient and give it a chance.”

“Fine. Where do we start?”

“I mean, your parental trauma is begging for a look at Hamlet, but we’ll ease into it.”

✯✯✯✯✯

You intentionally left a copy of Invisible Man by H.G. Wells on his table when you gathered your things after visiting Victor. While you walk to the library to meet him, you hope he’s read it.

“Hey,” you greet softly.

Victor nods, sliding an anatomy book onto the return shelf.

“Glad I caught you while your friends are busy,” you tease, taking the chair closest to him.

“Alone—it is wonderful how little a man can do alone! To rob a little, to hurt a little, and there is the end.”

“You read it. Even though it’s completely unbelievable and unrealistic?”

“All men, however highly educated, retain some superstitious inklings.”

Your eyes widen as you realize that he not only read it in its entirety but enjoyed it enough to remember it.

“Racism, symbolism, foreshadowing,” Victor lists off. “It wasn’t completely incapable of teaching something.”

“Did you just admit you were wrong?”

“No.”

“So, are you open to more?”

Victor shrugs, and you slide a worn copy of The Hound of the Baskervilles to Victor. He picks it up, touching the cracked spine before looking at you.

“Sherlock is famous,” you answer, smiling brightly.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Stapleton was a deceiver,” Victor says, rushing to your side as you exit class.

“What?” you reply, surprised to see him.

“The hound- it’s a symbol of his deception and the entire time the moor is symbolizing the cloudiness of the mystery because it wasn’t a real mystery. Stapleton’s death was completely avoidable, yet he isn’t even the one to be attacked by the hound.”

You stop, grabbing Victor’s coat to stop him as well.

“You read the entire book last night?”

“I- I couldn’t put it down,” Victor admits lowly.

“Do you see what I mean now?”

“I’m- I’m starting to. Uh, what next?”

“I don’t have another book for you right now. We can go get-“

“Yes. Please,” Victor adds.

“Ready to try fantasy again?” you ask with a smile.

Victor inhales deeply before nodding. “I trust you.”

✯✯✯✯✯

When Victor closes the book, he stares at the cover.

“Well?” you ask. “Don’t say anything bad about Aragorn, that’s all I ask.”

“He and Legolas portray a really- a perfect friendship,” he answers.

“Amity.” Victor glances up at you, and you explain, “Amity is usually associated with Shakespeare. His male friendships were built on this mutual respect and beneficial relationship qualities, but Tolkien used it in his creation of the Fellowship as well.

“I think…” you pause as you look at your overflowing bookshelf. “It’s time for a play.”

“Please no Shakespeare.”

“Okay, one, we need to get you over your irrational fear of the Bard.”

“It’s not irrational, he makes me want to puke.”

“Because he makes you feel things; must be weird for you.”

Victor rolls his eyes, and you smile as you find what you’re looking for.

“Oscar Wilde. An Ideal Husband.”

“What’s it about?”

“An ideal husband.”

Victor huffs, and you quote, “Seriousness would be very unbecoming of him. Pray be as trivial as you can.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“Victor, the point of books is to read it the way you’re supposed to read it. And if you want to talk after finding out what it’s about – in your eyes – then we can. As you gain experience it will be easier to find the common ‘accepted’ views too. But the point is to read for yourself.”

“Experience is merely the name men gave to their mistakes.”

You gasp, rushing to stand over Victor. “You’ve read Wilde before!”

“Just Dorian Gray when I was a kid. Thought it might help me escape the cookie cutter I kept getting shoved into.” Noticing your smile, Victor asks, “What?”

“You’re getting symbolic and theme-y. My literature lessons are rubbing off on you.”

“Something certainly is,” Victor replies, looking at your leg pressed to his.

“Are you ready to admit I’m right?”

“Not if it means the lessons end.”

“Oh, never. We’re a two-man book club now, Vic.”

✯✯✯✯✯

“Are you here to speak to me as Lord Goring speaks to Mabel?” you ask, blocking the doorway.

“More like Mrs. Cheveley to Robert.”

“If you keep using literature references, I’m going to fall in love with you, Vic.”

“I have a request,” Victor says, drawing your attention (and his) from your comment.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

He moves to your bookshelf after you open the door, quickly finding what he’s looking for. He holds it up, and you cross your arms.

“You sure?” After he nods, you say, “Go for it. It’s short, read it here if you want.”

Victor doesn’t have to be told twice, tossing his coat over the back of your couch and making himself comfortable with a copy of Hamlet.

✯✯✯✯✯

“This is too long,” Victor reads.

“It shall be to the barber’s, with your beard,” you reply.

“Don’t spoil it,” Victor reprimands.

“Though you can fret me, you cannot play upon me.”

✯✯✯✯✯

Within a few hours, Victor is done with the play and pacing.

“Still want to read your parents’ books?” you ask.

“Yeah. But- if Hamlet can deal with an actual ghost, I guess their passive aggressive advice isn’t so bad.”

You chuckle before pointing out, “Hamlet was troubled when Horatio, Marcellus, and Barnardo told him. If it assumes my noble father’s person, I’ll speak to it isn’t an outright acknowledgment of who it is. It isn’t until he talks to the ghost that he seeks revenge on his uncle.”

“Which applies to me in no way,” Victor argues.

“What does Hamlet do to get revenge?”

Sighing, Victor answers, “Nothing.”

“Hamlet changes his reaction because of his morals and his thoughts. You can change your view of your parents like that, too.”

Victor sighs, and you see his poorly hidden smile after you say, “Though I personally won’t decide to forgive them for what they did to you.”

✯✯✯✯✯

“What’s your favorite book?” Victor asks.

You answer without hesitation, then ask, “Why?”

“Can I read it?”

“Sure. If you admit you were wrong.”

“I was wrong. Literature can be good, and it is possible to learn from fiction.” He quiets to add, “And you have good taste.”

You lean closer, turning your ear toward him as you ask him to repeat that.

 “I’m not your Lord Goring or your Mr. Darcy or any other dashing soulmate,” he says.

“No, you’re not,” you agree. “You’re my Victor Vale.”

Victor’s phone buzzes, and he rolls his eyes as he reads Eli’s message.

“Is he still working on the EO thing?” you ask. When he nods, you murmur, “Someone never read Frankenstein.”

“Would I like it?”

Nodding, you sit beside Victor. “Be careful with Eli, though. Books can teach a lot, but anything short of Richard Connell’s The Most Dangerous Game won’t prepare you to deal with him.”

“What’s that about?”

You consider not telling him, but he nudges you with his elbow, and you concede. “A man who hunts other men for sport.”

Victor hums, looking back at his phone. “Can I admit something else?”

“Depends.”

“I didn’t lie about my thoughts on reading, but I learned something else.”

“When?”

“The week you forced me to read Pride and Prejudice.”

“You learned that you must be in want of a wife. I suppose I could be convinced to consider a proposal.”

“No. Darcy taught- he said, ‘My real purpose was to see you, and to judge, if I could, whether I might ever hope to make you love me.’”

Twisting toward Victor, you lay your hand over his heart. “The only people for me are the mad ones.”

“Is that a yes? A maybe?”

“It’s a yes,” you whisper. “I’d choose you; in a hundred lifetimes, in a hundred worlds, in any version of reality, I’d find you and I’d choose you.”

“I don’t know that one.”

“I told you; we’re easing you into it,” you remind him, kissing his jaw and chuckling when his breath catches.

Bonus: 10 Years Later

“What happened in Merit, Victor?” you demand.

Victor stiffens at your use of his name, no ‘Vic’ or pet name. Rather than telling you the exact truth, he takes your hand and says, “I was benevolent and good: misery made me a fiend. Make me happy and I shall again be virtuous.”

You relax, pulling him close as you reply, “We’re not having the argument about you being a monster again, but you know I’ll do everything I can to make you happy.”

Victor returns your hug, and you feel a small paperback in his pocket, smiling at how much has changed.

“The world is made up of two classes – the hunters and the huntees. No one will blame you for this, Vic, but it will never be the same.”

“I have you and your books,” Victor replies. “There is no one more equipped for change than us.”

“I can’t believe you used to be against fiction and now you carry around a barely legible copy of my favorite book.”

“What can I say? It is love. Love, and only love. For both of us a new life is beginning.”

[fluentmoviequoter]

Lockland Years

Part One of Stormy Years, Rainy Confessions

Summary: You meet Victor at Lockland during the stormiest years of his life.

Warnings: Canon divergent (no EOs... yet), angst, fluff, judgemental peers, so much poetry

Word Count: 2.5k+ words

“No,” someone whispers harshly, gesturing for their friend to stand from the library table before them. “Let’s sit somewhere else.”

“What? Why?” the boy asks as he rises from the seat.

“Don’t you know who that is?”

Victor doesn’t look up from his textbook but knows they’re talking about him. The murderer. It’s all anyone on campus seems to be able to talk about. Since Angie Knight died, people – students and teachers alike – have avoided him, created twisted stories about how he did it, and worse, he thinks, conspired a million different stories about how he got away with it.

The local police department, as well as Lockland’s own investigation, determined that there was no evidence that Victor was Angie’s killer, so they decided to close the case and assume it was, in fact, just a freak accident in the lab. The same lack of evidence that exonerated Victor from arrest, however, also became the most talked about topic on campus as everyone began to view him as a murderer and believe that he got away with it by making it look like an accident, a power surge in the lab, a drugging, or whatever new rumor was circulating at any given moment.

As the groups of classmates - or maybe friends, Victor can never tell the difference - disappear farther into the library, Victor relaxes in his solitude and returns to his studies. If he can’t be the EO, the hero, the powerful symbol Victor dared to believe he could be, he would be a doctor and reach his highest potential no matter how long it took him. With his academic prowess and his professors’ newfound hurry to get him out of their classes as quickly as possible, he didn’t expect it to take too long.

You sigh when you see a small group of unoccupied tables. Finding a quiet place in a library is harder at Lockland than anywhere else you’ve ever been. There’s always someone whispering, playing their music through earbuds a bit too loud, or staring at you with an intensity as distracting as if they were screaming. So, when you notice three tables with only one occupant, you hope that your fellow dedicated student will have pity on you and lend you a seat.

“Excuse me,” you greet softly, as you approach the end of his table.

The boy, blond and admittedly gorgeous, looks up slowly after hearing your voice. His eyes stop momentarily at your legs, where your thighs are pushed against the chair opposite him so you can keep your voice down but still be heard. He hums, and you smile as you point to the table behind you.

“I just wanted to ask if I could sit here,” you explain. “I’m studying for an exam and can’t find a quiet place.”

He looks behind him before lifting one shoulder in a fluid movement that somehow makes his disinterest beautiful. You nod your thanks and then sit at the table across from him. As you open your notebook and quietly sort through your notecards, you feel his eyes on you. After several minutes, you look up and catch his eyes before introducing yourself.

“Victor,” he murmurs, almost like he doesn’t want you to know who he is.

“Med student, right?” you guess.

Victor nods, and when you stand, he drops his eyes back to his book. After turning back and forth several times, you move your last paper to the same table as Victor and sit directly across from him.

“How old are you?” he inquires without looking at you again.

“19,” you answer. “I’m a freshman. You?”

“Freshman, so you’ve been here long enough to know who I am.”

You twirl a pencil between your fingers and answer, “Yes. But also long enough that I know you didn’t do it. The police didn’t find anything, so unless you’re some sort of genius psychopathic killer, I’m not really concerned with what people think about you. What’s the worst that happens?”

Your surety in Victor’s innocence, combined with your willingness to be so close to him, surprises Victor. It’s either a ploy to get close to him in some ill-fated attempt to find something or a dare. Regardless, Victor doesn’t expect you to be near him long.

“Do you have a favorite theory?”

“How do you mean?” Victor asks, abandoning his studying as he gives you his attention. He leans back and crosses his arms over his chest as his pale eyes study you.

“Everyone seems to have their own idea about how you got away with murder? I know it’s a bit macabre, so tell me to drop it and I will, but-“

“Spontaneous combustion,” Victor interjects. “Someone decided that I’d figured out the secret to spontaneous combustion and killed her from the inside. A short in a wire or something like that.”

“Interesting,” you muse. “Have you heard the one about the power?”

Victor conceals the surprise at your question but gracefully flips his hand in encouragement for you to tell him.

“In this one, you’re some kind of electrical genius and you took over the power controls in the lab to shock her heart into AFib. Enough of a genius to do it quickly and powerfully enough to get rid of any evidence, hence why the ME missed it.”

“Is that a compliment to me or a complete lack of belief in the police?”

You smile and place your hand against your lips to muffle your laugh. Someone walks by and glances between you and Victor before picking up their speed to get past your table. Victor nods once and finds his place in the textbook, considering you as good as gone.

“How old are you?” you ask.

“Look, whatever you’re trying to do, it won’t work,” Victor tells you. “So, just do us both the favor of going back to whatever little group you came from.”

You sit back in your chair and watch Victor jot a note before you say, “We’re not so different, you and me. We look the same to them. They see freaks, loners, people capable of unspeakable things, but they never stop to ask what we want to do, what beauty we see in the experimentation of life.”

“Drop the poetic lines and just tell me what you want,” Victor pleads, leaning forward on his elbows.

You smile and match his stance, leaving little space between you as you ask, “Burn me like the sun, but don’t push me away just because you’re scared of what they’ll think of me.”

“Vic!” you call as you run to catch up with him. “Look.”

You pass him a graded paper, and he tips his head at the large red A written on the top. It’s as close to praise as you can get from him, so you pat his shoulder and take it back.

“How was your presentation?” you inquire.

“Fine. I have to get a few more things together before I can choose my residency.”

“On the bright side, I doubt they’ll argue with you.”

“So, I what? Intimidate them into a good recommendation.”

“It’s the least they can do after how they’ve treated you, Vic.”

Victor shakes his head against the black collar of his coat. In the weeks since you met in the library, your life has become completely intertwined with Victor’s. Yet there’s an unignorable gap that you can’t seem to close. You know that he’s trying to push you away from him to preserve you and what people think of you. But one way or another, you will show Victor Vale that you don’t care what people say or think, only about your friends.

Ten days after meeting him, you realize just how dedicated Victor can be. He’s been distancing himself in slow, measured steps, but now he’s gone. Sitting alone in the oversized food court of Lockland, you decide to show Victor that you can play his game just as well as he can. If he cares enough to push you away, you’ll show him you care, too.

“Open up, Vale,” you demand as you knock on his door.

“No,” he answers.

“Fine, then I’m leaving your food out here to ruin your Italian leather shoes in the morning.”

The door opens quickly, blowing Victor’s coat back with the breeze. He tightens his jaw when he sees you smiling, and you push past him to prepare your food.

“Why?” you ask as you open his silverware drawer without asking.

“Because you’re throwing yourself away for a perceived friendship,” he answers. His voice is calm and controlled, so much so that you wonder if you’re perceiving his care, too.

“I’m not leaving,” you tell him. “Keep pushing and I’ll keep pulling. Victor, you can’t just shut everyone out because a bunch of stupid kids decided that you killed Angie. You lost her too!”

“Maybe I did kill her.”

You huff a laugh and grip the back of Victor’s favorite chair, black and perfectly constructed for curling up with a book and a cup of tea.

“Why do you care?” he tries.

“Why is it so hard for you to believe someone can?”

Victor stares at you, both silent and unmoving, unwilling to bend or abandon your positions. After a moment, you shake your head and straighten.

“Find you when I’m ready?” Victor guesses when you open your mouth to speak.

You lay your hands on his chest and smile. “I won’t give you the room. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Victor watches the door long after you leave, wondering why he can’t get your smile out of his mind. He watched Eli get obsessed with the EO theory before he left; when Victor realizes that he treats you similarly, he tightens his grip on the chair you last touched until the wood creaks beneath his fingers.

“What’s wrong with her?” someone asks behind you.

“She’s got a thing for… Vale.”

You smile at how they drop their voice as if saying his name will summon the man they think he is. Part of you wants to turn around and play the part they’ve come to expect, but you’re waiting on someone far more important than the population of Lockland.

“You think they’re together?” the first voice asks, clearly disgusted.

“They’re friends,” someone argues.

“Sure! That’s what we can see, but I mean – c’mon… Everyone can see that they’re only still here for each other.”

Before you can consider the claim for too long, Victor walks into the quad and finds you, as if he’s drawn to you like the brightest light or a blazing fire in a barren desert. He stands out like the tallest and most precious in a field of flowers, and you suddenly realize you are friends. But you could be so much more.

“Morning,” you greet. “Come with me.”

“You asked me to meet you here,” Victor argues, looking at your outstretched hand.

“Plans change. You of all people should know that Vic.”

Victor raises his hand, hesitates halfway up, then slips his fingers between yours. You lead him to the lab where Angie died, then past the entrance and to a large tree growing against the gothic-style fence between the buildings.

“I’m not going to force you to let me close, Victor, but I won’t let you force me away, either.”

“And you brought me out here to tell me this, because?” he asks, looking at the tree.

You tighten your grip on his hand and ask, “Do your eyes ever get tired of being so wide and beautiful?”

“You’ve heard what they’re saying?” Victor deduces though he doesn’t remove his fingers from yours.

“Are you ever going to realize that I don’t care what they say?” you exclaim, dropping his hand. “Victor, they could decide right now that I killed Angie, start a rumor that I’m sleeping with you to graduate, and I wouldn’t think twice about telling you that I care about you. Vic, this has never been about them.”

“Maybe it should be,” he argues.

You take a deep breath, but when Victor starts to speak again, you blurt out, “I knew getting close to you would bring some kind of suffering, but I only want to suffer if it’s with you.”

Victor feels your words wash over him, not in a harsh, crashing wave of realization, but like the slow, meaningful brush of your lips against his deepest scars. Despite all of his efforts to keep you at arms’ length, you give Victor all of the attention and interaction he needs, all he secretly craves but has been convinced that he doesn't deserve. Everyone else decided Victor was an anarchist, an antagonist in his narrative, yet they don’t have any idea of how hard he has fought, or everything he’s done, and they don’t get to decide his ending. You’re in his story, and Victor realizes that maybe you’ve been the saving grace he needed all along.

“But if you can’t see that,” you begin quietly.

“How do you ignore their judgment?” Victor interrupts. “You were genuine that night in the library and you’ve stayed that way. Why do you care so little about what they think, the things they believe about you?”

You narrow your eyes as you watch Victor. He knows exactly what it’s like to have people talk behind his back. That’s what he was trying to protect you from; not him, but the effects of being close to him.

“Their judgment is just that, theirs. it doesn’t have to affect me. This – you and me, our friendship – gets to affect me because it’s what I want. Being genuine, caring about you and keeping you close is all based on how I see you, not the rumors these people created to explain a person they don’t deserve to understand.”

Victor slowly, carefully pulls your hand and holds it between you. “You’re still here?”

You smile and step toward him as you promise, “Always.”

“Some friend you are,” Victor mumbles. “I don’t have much experience to go on, but I don’t think friends act like this.”

You look up from Victor's lap, smooth your hands over his shoulders, and say, “There’s a reason it’s a great story progression. Strangers to friends to lovers.”

“No poeticism.”

“Worried I’ll see what a softie you really are?”

“Go ask the guy across the hall if he thinks I’m a softie.”

“Stop trying to push me away,” you whisper.

“There’s no point. It doesn’t work.”

Victor traces his fingers up the seams along the front of your jacket before he effortlessly flips the coat over his fingers to clutch the fabric in his fists and bring your chest against his.

“Do you remember what I said I wanted the first time we met?” you whisper.

“Something about being burned,” Victor recalls.

“Your turn to be poetic.”

Victor sighs but his eyes convey a completely different emotion as he quotes, “I would never kiss anyone who doesn’t burn me like the sun.”

You brush your lips over Victor’s, then murmur, “This doesn’t end here.”

“I didn’t expect it would,” Victor deadpans.

“No,” you insist, pushing Vic back. “You don’t get to leave this summer and just forget about me, about this, okay? I won’t let you.”

Victor straightens your jacket before he asks, “Then why don’t you come with me?”

[fluentmoviequoter]

Better Off Without Me

Also inspired by the ideas of @astroherogirl!!

Pairing: Victor Vale x fem!reader

Summary: Victor is reluctant to be loved, and when Angie takes your place beside him, the distance between you becomes too great to cross.

Warnings: spoilers for Vicious, mentions/depictions of insecurity, angst

Word Count: 1.5k+ words

A/N: Title from better of without me by Matt Hansen (Spotify link). Could I add this to my Vic playlist? The meaning, yes, but the sound makes me second guess it.

Picture from Pinterest

Victor Vale’s presence pushes people away. Like fighting against a current, walking into a hurricane, you get close to him, no matter what it takes.

“Hi,” you greet, sitting across from Victor in the oversized cafeteria of Lockland. “How are you? Finally get some sleep?”

He shakes his head, and you slide his favorite coffee across the table to him. He looks up at you, then back to the cup.

“I believe this is when most people say, ‘thank you.’ But, since you’re cute, I’ll just assume you thought it.”

You’re convinced that Victor only lets you spend so much time with him because you are one of the few people he knows. You’ve met Eli, but he is the only other person Victor is ever seen with. Whether it’s intentional or not, Victor is the opposite of inviting. You are convinced that getting to know him, the real him hidden beneath layers of scars and more bark than bite (though he does have plenty of bite, too).

“Have you considered my offer?” you ask.

Victor turns the page in his notebook, reviewing a diagram as he replies, “About ‘testing a hypothesis about the effects of hugging’? Yeah, I think you need to find a different guinea pig.”

Sighing, you say, “I guess I’ll have to find a new approach. If I said the hug was for me, not you, would you agree?”

“No.”

You smile at Victor, focused and annoyed, exactly how you like him.

✯✯✯✯✯

Entering the cafeteria with an idea to trick Victor into giving you a hug (asking if he can point to the muscles connecting your posterior and anterior chains, then hugging him when he reaches under your arm), you expect to find him sitting alone or with Eli.

So, you freeze when you see a girl sitting beside him, running her fingers through his blond hair. Your mind begins racing, wondering how long Victor has been with the girl at his side and why he let you treat him as you did if he was in a relationship.

Standing out of sight, you continue watching, quickly convinced there is more to this girl than meets the eye. She looks at Eli more than Victor, even when she’s answering Victor or touching his shoulders. 

Worse, you think, is Victor’s bittersweet gaze. Like he’s in love but isn’t convinced that he can be. You’ve known since meeting him that Victor was going to be tough to love, to show that he was deserving of receiving it and capable of giving it to the right person. Now, someone else is getting to show him that. Witnessing their open touches, the give and take that you so desperately crave, breaks your heart, but at the same time, Victor seems happy. You want Victor to experience happiness more than anything, so you will let him enjoy the love and presence of the woman who seems better equipped to show him.

✯✯✯✯✯

Angie Knight is the woman in the cafeteria. Learning her name makes you feel worse, able to compare yourself more easily to her when you have something to call her other than ‘Victor’s.’ She seems to be better than you for Victor and the position by his side. You realize you could never be enough for Victor, and he will never choose you over Angie.

With no chance of completing your mission, of showing Victor that you really care about him, you stop visiting him. Each moment without him changes you. Your happy, soft demeanor grows sad and disinterested. As Victor learns to love, you begin to understand his starting place, a life with no acquaintances willing to show you that they care.

Sitting in the library, reviewing your notes before a lecture, you don’t look up when someone sits in the seat beside you.

“What happened?” Victor asks.

Glancing up, you’re shocked at how close he is, leaning in like he needs your answer. He’s just as pretty as you remember, and the fact that he noticed something changed makes losing him hurt worse.

“Lots has happened. Couple World Wars, bunch of books have been written-“

“You know what I mean,” Victor snaps quietly. “Why’d you disappear?”

“Just been busy. Hard classes, you know? How have you been?”

“I’ve been okay.” Victor’s brows are pinched, either confused or concerned; you never had a chance to learn the difference, and he doesn’t let his emotions show in front of just anyone.

“Good. Been hanging out with Eli and Angie while I’ve been slaving over textbooks?” You hope it sounds like a joke, but it strains your broken heart to say it.

“Yeah. It’s a little quiet without your hug questions though.”

Victor tilts his head, and you realize just how happy he seems. He’s talking more openly than ever before, and knowing that Angie got him here instills a fear in your heart that no one will ever choose you, that there will always be an Angie swooping in before you make any real progress.

“Well, I’m glad you’re happy,” you say. “Hopefully I’ll have more time soon.”

Victor nods, and when you look back to your textbook, you hope this isn’t the last time you see him.

✯✯✯✯✯

“They found a body in the lab,” someone whispers as you walk through the hallway.

“Who?” a second voice inquires.

“I heard it was a teacher.”

“No, it was a student, one of the assistants – Angie something.”

Hearing her name and learning that she could be dead, you rush to Victor’s room, pounding on his door and growing worried when he doesn’t answer. It takes several trips back and forth between his building and the lab next door to the crime scene to find him. It’s dark, no lights on this sidewalk, so you can see why he chose it.

“Vic,” you call. “Are you okay? Is it true, that Angie’s… gone?”

Victor doesn’t answer, staring straight ahead as he leans against a tree. You reach out, brushing your hand over his shoulder.

“I’m here, if you want to talk. I know she meant a lot to you, but I-“

✯✯✯✯✯

Victor can’t accept your soft touches and kindness right now. Last you knew, he was in love with Angie, and you didn’t know about her betrayal or the role Eli played in it. In the big picture, you know very little about Victor. When you offer to be there for him, an image of you dying the same way as Angie flashes through his mind, and he knows he has to push you away to keep you safe.

“No!” he replies harshly, moving away from you and the tree. “I don’t need a shoulder to cry on or your constant questions. I need time, and space, and I need Angie back!”

“Vic, I’m sorry,” you whisper, understanding his anger.

“That doesn’t matter,” he says, his voice dropping and evening out. “You don’t matter. Angie did, and she’s gone. Eli said he was here for me, too, and look where that got us.”

You can’t speak, your mind stuck on Victor’s claim that you don’t matter. He is voicing your deepest insecurities, that he doesn’t want you, and you can’t do anything but listen.

“You tried to convince me to pick you, and I didn’t. What more do you need?”

Wiping a tear that leaked out despite your efforts not to show him how he’s affecting you, you answer, “Not a thing, Victor. Not a single thing. I hope you are better off without me, if that’s what you want.”

You turn away but freeze when Victor adds, “It could have been different.”

“Yeah, it could have. And I shouldn’t, but I’ll always be close. If you change your mind.”

Victor doesn’t speak, opting to watch you disappear down the sidewalk. He decides to visit Eli next and watch another life slip through his fingers, hoping it isn’t his own.

✯✯✯✯✯

✯✯✯✯✯

2 Years Later

Victor has a lot of time to think in prison. Endless time, it seems. He spends sleepless nights wondering what he could have done differently. Imagining different choices with you and Angie, there are hundreds of outcomes in which Angie lives, and you stay close to Victor. Slowly, Angie fades out of the memories and the questions. After two years, Victor’s thoughts are solely on you. The night that you left seems to haunt him, and the space between you will never be closed, which hurts worse than any physical pain Victor could inflict on himself.

✯✯✯✯✯

In a small house near Lockland, you think about Victor again. Although, the truth is that you rarely stop thinking about him. The 22-year-old version of him lives in your mind, and you often think about the last time you saw him in the library when he gave you a sliver of the attention you craved.

You can’t help but wonder if you could have changed the outcome of your relationship with Victor. Asking yourself if pushing back against Victor would have kept him within reach, you regret giving him so much space that the gap seems impossible to close.

✯✯✯✯✯

Miles away from each another, you and Victor fall asleep with the same thoughts: one another and that you made a mistake that can’t be fixed.

[fluentmoviequoter]

Married Nights

Part Four of Stormy Years, Rainy Confessions

Summary: Five years after moving in with Victor, you spend a rainy night at his side and reminisce on your relationship through the years.

Warnings: fluff! Victor gets his well-deserved happy ending

Word Count: 1.5k+ words

A/N: Another incredibly heartfelt thank you to @astroherogirl! Thank you for sharing this idea (and a love for Victor) with me and letting me write it, and for being such an amazing friend and offering me the kindest and most encouraging feedback!🤍

🌒 5 Years After Rain-Stained Poetry 🌒

When you met Victor Vale eight years ago, you didn’t imagine where he would take your life. Now, as you watch him sleep and grow jealous of the pillows and sheets beneath him because they hear his heartbeat, embrace his calmness and comfort, and hold him tightly.

“You’re staring,” Victor says against his pillow.

“I have always dreaded you,” you reply as you move onto the bed, perching on your knees at the edge. “Yet I fell for your pleading love-me eyes.”

Victor groans, and you trace your finger around the wedding band on his left hand. He worked late last night to finish a surgery, and his day off is already dark and dreary, so you plan to keep him inside and at your side for all of it.

“Come with me,” you encourage, offering your hand.

Victor takes it without a second thought and pulls himself out of your bed to follow you to the living room. You’ve opened the curtains to see the approaching storm and the first drizzle of rain, and the couch cushions have been spread out with pillows and blankets to make a makeshift bed on the floor. A record plays softly in the dining room, and Victor pulls you into his arms to kiss you after seeing all you’ve done to make today special. Every day with you is special, he thinks, but knowing that this is how the rest of his life is going to look makes his past a distant memory, a series of events that led him to you, his wife, the love of his life, and the reason his heart beats within your capable hands.

Victor makes himself comfortable against the plush pit you’ve set up, and once he’s settled, you join his side. With your side pressed to Victor’s and his arm tucked around your shoulders, you pull a blanket over your legs before you turn toward him. The room grows darker as the wind picks up, bringing the thunderstorm closer to your home, where your hearts exist together, protected from everything except the love and care you harbor for one another.

Three years ago, you laid close to one another during a rainy night that changed the trajectory of your lives forever. Victor proposed in the dark, and his poetry was presented on raindrops. All the doubt, betrayal, fear, and judgement he faced led him to the love-filled life he now lives with you. Most importantly, he thinks, he’s learned to love you, the woman forever beside him who held him through the darkest, stormiest years of his life. Despite what people said, the looks they gave you, and unfair actions taken against you, you never once strayed from Victor’s side. Though he’ll never be able to repay you for that, he can love you to the best of his ability. That love allows him to learn from you, accept your love, reshape it, and give it back in a meaningful way that lets you grow together.

“I love you,” you say as the song playing behind you changes and grows quieter as the wind picks up and raindrops splatter on the window.

Victor smiles at your words. It’s still a confession, a promise, and carries the same power as when you first told him. Your love assured him from the beginning, became a real, tangible power after your first kiss, and continues to bring Victor the same peace and love now as it did then. At Lockland, Victor was surprised to realize he was becoming obsessed with you. Yet he continues to allow you to consume his every thought, to dictate the way he thinks, lives, and how he lets you control every facet of his life. You’re his, and he is yours, but it’s all he ever wanted, even when he was too distracted to realize or too selfish to acknowledge it.

“I love a rainy night,” you murmur. “We seem to do our best loving in the rain.”

Victor brushes your hair behind your ear and says, “I love you. I have always loved you.”

“Aren’t you glad that your efforts to push me away didn’t work, then?”

As Victor traces his fingers along your bare arm, you lean more heavily against him. The time you spent together at his family’s manor aided in the progression of your relationship; moving in together and getting married removed the physical barriers that limited your expression of love, but all of the important aspects of your shared love exist within you. Wedding rings symbolize your eternal devotion to one another, the promise to continue learning to love one another together for eternity, but the trading of your hearts, the invisible and silent promises you’ve kept are the real proof of the goodness you found and created in life with Victor.

“Life is better with you than I thought it ever could be,” Victor muses, spinning your wedding ring.

Your wedding band sits alone on your finger. Following his impromptu, perfect proposal, Victor offered to buy you an engagement ring numerous times. You decline each time because you want to remember your relationship exactly as it is. There was no big party, hidden photographer, or even a ring, just a whispered question shrouded in dedication and purpose that took you higher than you dreamed.

“As long as there’s rainy nights and you love me,” you add, taking Victor’s hand to hold against your chest.

Thunder rumbles as the rain drowns out your record player, but Victor’s heart beating against you mixes with the sounds of the storm to create a melody you never want to end.

“You’re my best friend, Vic, my lover… my everything. This is our life and it’s all we need.”

Victor says your name, his voice embracing you like a hug after too long away from a loving home, and you fall into his eyes, lost in the moment with him.

“My parents told me I’d never get married,” he muses. “I think it was supposed to scare me into being the perfect son they wanted, but eventually I just accepted it. They left anyway, as loveless as I thought two people could be, so I didn’t see the appeal. Then I befriended Eli and Angie, that fell apart too. You’re the only reason I am loved, the only person who has ever made me feel what it’s like to be able to love, to want someone close.”

“And now you’ll never be without love.”

You tilt your chin and kiss Victor, feeling the love, the connection of your lives, the spark between your lips, and where your hearts rest against one another. The love you created with Victor wasn’t easy and may never be, but it’s beautiful, poetic, and perfect. This is the life you wanted, the one beside the man you found easy to love from the moment you laid eyes on him, and a quiet, rainy Sunday is all the evidence you need that things are working out. Though not always according to plan, your growth alongside Victor is healthy, your roots intertwining more each day as your lives become one and you reach new heights together.

The house is dark as the storm’s peak stalls over you on Sunday evening. Yet you and Victor remain, hidden from prying eyes, from judgement, and the pain of hearing the lies that you’ll never be together because of your differences. Though you’re eight years older than when you first met, miles from Lockland, married to your first real love, and completely and incandescently happy, there is more to life than loving speeches and rainy nights. Victor tightens his grip on you as he realizes things change, people grow apart, and storms pass.

“I believe in you,” Victor vows. “I believe in us.”

You smile and brush your fingers through his pale hair as you reply, “I’ve always believed in us. Mostly you, but I knew I could fight.”

“When the day comes that we need more, will we find it together?”

“Undoubtedly,” you answer. “Besides, you have more scars I need to map, to know and kiss them for the man they helped you become.”

“I thought this house was the perfect home, but today made me realize that you are home. Your arms wrapped around me, even at my worst, give me the strength, the comfort, to go on.”

“So, you and me, together against everything? Because you love me almost as much as I love you?”

Victor’s lips quirk up at the corners before he circles his arm around your waist and rolls over, hovering above you as you sink into the cushions beneath you. “Almost?” he questions before kissing your neck. “Don’t you hear how I say your name?”

Breathless, you wrap your arms over his shoulders and answer, “I do. And it brings me home every time you speak it.”

“I say it even when you’re not around just to keep you close.”

You smile and lift your head to kiss Victor, and he sinks, tightening his grip around your waist as he moves with you, for you, and gets lost in you.

“Dusk is falling,” you say against him. “I love you.”

“I love you, baby.”

[fluentmoviequoter]

Rain-Stained Poetry

Part Three of Stormy Years, Rainy Confessions

Summary: Three years after your summer at Vale Manor, you move in with Victor and enjoy a rainy night filled with love and poetry.

Warnings: fluff, r has hair long enough to curl around a finger (only mentioned in one line), still canon divergent

Word Count: 1.4k+ words

🌧 3 Years After Summer Days 🌧

“Where should I put this?” you ask, raising a box as you enter your new home.

“Wherever you want,” Victor answers, taking the box from you. “It’s your house as much as mine.”

You nod and kiss Victor’s cheek before you kneel to place books on the bookshelf he assembled for you. When you met in the Lockland University library three years ago, you didn’t dare to dream of a future like this. Now that you’re in this new life, you smile at your naivety for believing you’d settle for less.

“We need to bring the rest of the boxes in,” Victor says, trailing his fingers over your shoulders. “Put that bachelor’s degree to use alphabetizing poetry later or all your boxes are going to get wet.”

“Can’t my doctor do it for me?” you reply, blinking up at him.

“If your Woolf collection gets soaked, it’s not my fault.”

You scramble up from the hardwood floor and follow Victor outside to bring the last of your belongings inside. Victor bought this house with money from his parents’ long-standing and forever-earning trust fund after he started his residency. He stayed close to Lockland for you, but now that you’ve graduated, you can move in together and live the life you both want... the one you deserve.

“Yours, I believe,” Victor says before he sets your graduation cap on your head and places a box in your arms.

“What will life be like away from Lockland?” you wonder aloud. “Somewhere no one knows our names, just your reputation as one of the best residents at the hospital… it’s nice.”

“When did we start caring what people think about us?”

“We didn’t. The whole point is that they don’t, Vic. We’re free.”

“Dramatic.”

You stick your tongue out at him before you set the box in a corner and walk outside to get another from the truck. Thick, dark clouds are moving in, but your new home, the life you now share with Victor, provides all of the comfort and protection you will ever need from storms, literal or metaphorical.

“I’ve missed you,” you confess as Victor closes the front door after bringing in the last of your belongings.

Victor walks to your side, looking at you rather than out of the window. He wraps his arm around your shoulders, his sweater warm and soft against your skin as he kisses the top of your head. He doesn’t answer; not verbally, but you can tell by how he lays his arm gently across you that Victor missed you, too. There were mere miles between you, but now that you’ve graduated and left Lockland behind you, there need never be space between you again.

“Thank you,” you whisper against Victor’s shoulder.

You’re in bed, surrounded by one another and your new home while rain falls in thick sheets outside and thunder rumbles in the distance. This is your new normal, your shared life, and in parallel to the rainy night at Victor’s parents’ manor several summers ago, you know that you’re not only where you want to be but where you need to be.

“For?” Victor asks, his fingers twirling the ends of your hair as you lay against his chest.

“Setting everything up, buying this house, being amazing,” you list softly. “And coming to my graduation.”

“You came to mine,” he points out.

You sit up gently and roll onto your stomach to look him in the eye. Victor’s hand doesn’t move away from you as you argue, “That was different, Vic.”

He nods; he remembers that you were in the crowd, a light for him but just another blur to his fellow graduates who gave him plenty of room and talked about him beneath their mortar board caps. Your ceremony, however, had a distinct feeling of discomfort. He was alone in a section of bleachers and doesn’t doubt that your peers beside you openly discussed how odd it was for a murderer to come back to watch graduation and how deranged you must be to let him.

“Stop,” Victor mumbles, dropping his eyes away from your intense gaze.

“I’m allowed to look at you, Victor,” you point out. “Even if it does make me realize that I love you so much it terrifies me sometimes. I would do anything for you, you know that, right?”

Victor pulls you higher against his chest and kisses you before he answers, “I love you. Even if we’re still finding out what that means.”

You smile at his poetic answer and quote, “My heart talks about nothing but you.”

“Do you know what it’s like to have to deal with loving you?” Victor teases. “The doctors in my rotation have started asking me for relationship advice.”

“You talk about me?” you ask, shocked.

Victor shakes his head and shrugs. You aren’t offended that he doesn’t talk about you; he probably doesn’t talk about much other than the job and only when prompted or correcting someone else. What surprises you is that he loves you so much it’s obvious to others.

“Where do you think we’d be if we hadn’t met?” you inquire, tracing shapes above Victor’s heart.

“You’d be here,” he answers, moving his hands to your waist. “I’d be nowhere.”

Shaking your head, you argue, “That’s not true.”

Victor tips his head, a silent argument, and you press your finger to his lips.

“If we hadn’t met, I’d be lost. I’d be dreaming of you, not knowing it was you, and I’d ask where you are, and you’d say something about being found with me, that I’m the only person who could ever find you, and then you’d slip out of my grasp just before I woke up. So, I might be here,” you conclude, “but then I’d wake up.”

“It wouldn’t be so warm in a dream,” Victor says, holding you against him.

You smile and argue, “You’d be surprised how real the things I need, what I crave most, seem in dreams.”

“I didn’t dream before I met you.”

“Did you do anything worthwhile other than academia before you met me?”

Victor doesn’t answer, and you giggle as you drop your chin to his chest.

“I want to stay here forever,” Victor muses. “I care about you, I love you, I don’t say it enough.”

“You don’t have to say it, Vic. You show me every day.”

“You deserve more. This, laying in the dark and breathing together, is the deepest intimacy I’ve ever known.”

“You’re everything my heart has ever needed,” you whisper.

Victor shifts, rolling toward you so you are eye to eye, heart to heart, in your shared space. The rain grows heavier, pounding peacefully on the metal roof above you as the thunder grows closer. This intimacy is different than anything else you’ve ever experienced, and the conversation between you brings you impossibly closer.

“I can’t even look away because I’ve already seen you… I love you, and it gets worse every day because I could start wildfires with only what I feel for you,” Victor explains. “Beloved, I want to spend every moment of the rest of our lives learning what it means to love one another. I want my days to be marked not by work or the neglect I’ve lived through but the vibrance and purpose you bring to my life. Will you marry me?”

You feel a tear roll down your face as you smile and slide your hands to Victor’s shoulders. “Yes!” you answer, nodding. “Yes, Vic, even though you just called me beloved for the first time and made it very hard to focus on the rest of your proposal, I want to be with you until my last breath. I love you.”

Victor kisses you, and it’s everything you need, yet it awakes a need for more. You will love Victor, and need him until your final day, but you know that the wanting between you will remain alive. You’ll never grow tired of Victor, his love, his affection, and he will similarly remain hungry for you, your affection, the touches and words that brought him to you and will keep his beside you side long past this rainy night.

With Victor beside you, his arms wrapped around you, and the storm outside making the world around you calm and distant, your life with Victor begins anew.

“Does that mean you don’t like beloved?” Victor asks. You smile against his lips as you kiss him in response. He can call you anything, as long as he says it the same mellifluous way he says your name, reverent and wildly in love.

[fluentmoviequoter]

I'm the Old, He's the New

Pairing: Victor Vale x fem!reader

Summary: At your wedding, Victor realizes exactly where he fits in your array of old, new, borrowed, and blue.

Warnings: light angst, fluff!, banter, Victor kinda kills someone

Word Count: 1.1k+words

A/N: Based on Something Blue by Voilá. I had the idea and I ran with it🤷🏻‍♀️

Masterlist Directory | Victor Vale Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

Picture from Pinterest

“Babe,” your fiancé calls, not looking up from the wedding invite list. “Who’s Victor Vale?”

“Oh, he was a friend in college. We met at Lockland, I just thought it’d be nice to extend the initiation,” you answer.

“And you gave him a plus… five?”

You smile as you think about Victor. “Yeah, he’s got a thing for strays. Besides, you invited way more people than I did. I thought it would be okay since we had the room on my side.”

“Yeah, of course,” your fiancé assures. “Just didn’t recognize the name. He must not be an ex, then.”

You laugh with him, but when you say, “No, nothing like that,” part of you still wishes that wasn’t true. There was always something there, some promise of a future, and then Angie died, and your world was split in two: before Victor Vale and after Victor Vale. Inviting him to your wedding had been a last-minute idea. Yet, the possibility of seeing him brings more excitement than the wedding itself.

Standing in the doorway of your bridal suite, you watch people arrive, greet one another, and take seats. Most of them sit on the groom’s side and you wonder if you even want to be part of that family. Less than thirty minutes until the wedding starts, you know Victor isn’t coming. It’s probably for the best, you think, because having the man you have loved since you were a kid in the crowd rather than at the altar with you may be difficult. You sigh and turn back toward your bridesmaids, but an offended gasp stops you.

“Victor Vale,” you murmur.

One of your fiancé’s mother’s rich friends seems thoroughly upset by Victor’s presence. He’s just as you remembered: dark Parisian clothing contrasting his pale hair and skin. Yet, he’s the most handsome man you’ve seen today (and you’ve seen your groom in his thousand-dollar Italian suit). There are two people with him, a large man on his right and a blonde girl in a red coat on his left.

“Who is that?” your maid of honor asks, looking over your shoulder.

“That’s my best friend,” you answer, your eyes on Victor.

He turns, and when his eyes meet yours, you smile and gesture for him to join you.

“Ladies, I need a minute,” you inform your bridal party. “Thank you for everything.”

As they exit, they wish you luck, hug you, and your future sister-in-law tries to fix your hair before you hurry her out. Victor and his friends enter, and the young girl’s eyes widen when she sees the mountain of food and treats against the back wall.

“Help yourself,” you offer. “Nice to meet you.”

“I’m Sydney,” she replies, already walking toward the table. “Thanks.”

“Mitch,” the man offers, extending his hand to shake yours. “Congratulations.”

You smile and turn to Vic, clasping your hands before your stomach as he looks at your dress.

“Dearly beloved, we’re gathered here today,” he begins lowly. “To watch a big mistake.”

“Vic,” Mitch hisses, tossing an apologetic look your way.

“White’s not your color,” Victor adds. He shakes his head and says, “What I mean to say. And my feelings haven’t changed.”

You glance at Mitch, then ask, “Are my feet getting cold? Is it twenty below?”

“Sydney, get your food,” Mitch encourages. “We’ll be at the wed… the chairs, Vic.”

Mitch and Sydney leave quickly, Sydney asking questions around a piece of chocolate. You don’t watch them go, however, your complete attention is on Victor.

“There’s something I must confess,” you whisper. “I wish it was you instead.”

As if he knows you, Victor points to your bracelet and says, “Something old,” your shoes, “something new,” your hairpiece, “something borrowed,” and your dainty necklace, “something blue.”

“Victor,” you begin, not surprised by how easily he read you.

“I’m the old, he’s the new. Watching you got me feelin’ blue.”

“Sweetheart, it’s time to go!” your maid of honor calls from the doorway. “I’ve got your bouquet.”

You can’t look away from Victor, but he flexes his hand by his side and smiles. That alone should convince you not to go, but you take a step backward.

“Wish me luck, Victor,” you implore.

“Good luck,” he replies automatically. “You don’t need it.”

“What did you do?” Mitch demands as Victor joins them in the back row.

“Dearly beloved, for better or for worse,” Sydney teases, imitating Victor’s speech in your suite.

“He’s better in a hearse,” Victor continues. He looks to Mitch rather than your fiancé waiting for you at the end of the aisle and recounts, “‘Are my feet getting cold?’ she said. ‘Twenty below,’ she said. ‘Something I must confess, wish it was you instead.’”

“And?” Sydney presses. “What are you gonna do about it?”

Victor sits back in his seat, straightens his coat, and answers, “I’m waiting on the priest to give me my time to speak, I’m not gonna hold my peace. I wish it was her with me.”

“Excuse me?” your fiancé’s father interjects. “Are you Mr. Vale?”

Sydney half expects Victor to say Mr. Vale was my father, and I hate my father, but he simply nods.

“The bride wishes to see you. Make it snappy, we’re on a tight schedule.”

Victor walks to the back of the venue and finds you waiting in the shadows, your hand against your necklace.

“Remember the time when I bought you that locket?” he asks. “Where did it go? Maybe you lost it. Somehow it feels like it might be symbolic, like losing your love and having to watch it.”

“Vic,” you interrupt. “Let’s go.”

You offer your hand, and Victor looks at your necklace. It looks familiar because it’s the locket he bought you to celebrate the end of your first semester at Lockland. Or what’s left of it after all these years. Victor takes your hand and leads you to his (stolen) vintage Benz.

You laugh in the passenger seat as he drives away from your wedding venue, then say, “I don’t even own this dress and I’m not growing old with him.”

“Congratulations for not getting married, I guess,” Sydney says when you enter the abandoned hunting cabin they're staying in.

“Something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue,” Mitch murmurs. “That’s what made you decide to go?”

“What?” you ask.

“When I got the invitation, I didn’t want to go to the wedding. Then I realized that you’re traditional, you’d do the whole something old, new, borrowed, blue thing. I wanted to know if I was the old,” Victor explains.

“Or if I still made you feel blue?”

“Something like that.”

“Your fiancé also tried to talk him out of it the night before,” Sydney says.

Victor turns toward her quickly, surprised by her sudden treachery. She shrugs, and he attributes it to having another girl around.

“How did he find you?” you inquire.

“I helped him,” Mitch answers.

“You set a trap for him?”

“Something like that.”

“It worked out,” Victor says nonchalantly. “Besides, I’m sure he was better in that hearse.”

You nod, taking Victor’s hand, then ask, “What?!”

[fluentmoviequoter]

h e l l o, Hanna!!! ♡ guess who is back again with prompts for V-day??? well, what a magician that you are here, here are some prompts that i chose for one and only Victor Vale BUT as we both love college!Vic that much; thus, i would love to see the college lovers day with these prompts!!

“i could marry you right now.” + “you’re all i’ll ever want.” = ♡

bonus: i actually came across with your post how you like shy!reader; if you want you can do this with a shy reader, i don’t mind really since i am a shy person too. happy writing, love ♡

Softie college!Vic🫶🏼 I love these prompts together!!

Warnings: fluff! takes place at Lockland before the events of Vicious, Angie and Eli are together. 1.4k+ words.

Fanart from Pinterest (pretty boy.)

Valentine's Theory

It’s always hard to talk to Victor, but it becomes harder when he’s studying. You’re never sure if he’s intentionally blocking you out or just so focused that he truly can’t hear you. As you lay on his bed, picking at a box of chocolate someone left at your door, he is sitting at his desk and studying for an exam that is months away (and he will ace, no matter how much he does or doesn’t study).

“Vic, are you doing anything for Valentine’s Day?” you ask, rolling onto your side to look at his back.

He doesn’t answer, and you reach for another chocolate. After a moment, he asks, “When is it?”

“Tomorrow.”

Victor shrugs, mumbling that February 14th is just another day on the calendar. You smile, having expected no less.

“Let me guess, it was commercialized by the card companies and chocolate makers,” you joke.

“Absolutely, it was. How else do you explain the stereotypical, not to mention, expected, gift or a card, roses, and chocolate? There are millions of ways to show you love someone, yet those three have their own day,” he explains.

“Okay, then.”

As you put the lid back on your chocolates, having eaten all your favorite flavor combinations, you wonder about something.

“If you were going to go out,” you begin, “what would be your dream date? With your valentine.”

Victor turns toward you, his pale brows raised as he abandons his textbooks. “Who am I going with?”

You shrug, looking back at the heart-shaped box beside you. “Your choice.”

Victor thinks for a moment, then sighs. “I just don’t see the point.”

Smiling, you ask, “What if I show you?”

Victor doesn’t answer, but you push the chocolate toward him and announce, “We’re going out tomorrow. You have to at least try Valentine’s Day before you decide it’s pointless.” Noticing his blank stare, you whisper, “Unless you don’t want to.”

A man of science (and a man who has unexplained feelings around you and difficulty turning you down), Victor agrees. “You have one chance to prove your theory that it’s worth it.”

Standing from his bed, you tap his shoulder in thanks before leaving to plan the perfect Valentine’s Day.

✯✯✯✯✯

Victor finds you waiting outside his first class on the morning of Valentine’s Day. Extending a box, you wait until he takes it, then tuck your hands behind your back and press your lips together nervously.

Victor’s expression is unreadable as he looks at the gift: a black watch with a cat engraved on the back. At that moment, you have no way of knowing that it will become his most prized possession, and even years in the future when it’s scraped and worn, he looks at it and remembers this moment.

“I know it’s not much,” you begin.

“It’s perfect. Thank you. I, uh, I didn’t get you anything.”

“That’s because you are my valentine for the day, not the other way around,” you remind him. “Have fun in your class and I will see you at lunch.”

Victor watches you walk away before looking at the watch again. It’s the most thoughtful gift he’s ever gotten, but he’s more surprised by the sudden desire to follow you. Victor Vale will do anything to get what he wants, but now he’s questioning what he really wants and what he’s willing to sacrifice for it.

The watch holds his attention throughout the class, and Victor doesn’t hear Angie calling his name until she touches his hand.

“Angie, hi,” he says, blinking as his eyes adjust to looking at more than a watch.

“Eli and I are going out for Valentine’s Day, but I wanted to see if maybe you want to come hang out before?” she offers. “It’s not fair to have to be alone.”

There was a time when Victor would have been angry and hurt at the idea of Angie and Eli together and more so at their pity-driven invite to save him from a perceived miserable, lonely night. Now, though, he can only think of you and how, for once, he’s somewhat excited to spend time with someone else.

“I’ve got plans,” he mumbles. “Thanks though.”

“Wait, Vic! Plans with who?” Angie asks.

The watch beeps, and Victor knows it’s a reminder to meet you for lunch. You really did think of everything.

“Sorry, have to go, have fun with Eli.”

Angie yells after him, but he only has one thing on his mind: you. All those moments with you, the feelings that he couldn’t place… he’s starting to realize that you’re showing him something he has never experienced before. The second realization, though, that you’ve been doing it since long before the Valentine’s Day theory arose, is the one that makes him question everything.

✯✯✯✯✯

Around sunset, you take Victor to a small restaurant in a secluded area. You know it won’t be busy, making it more comfortable for you and Victor, and you’re glad to have his full attention when you sit across from him.

Victor has been distant since telling Angie and Eli he was happy for them. You could tell it was a lie, but you seemed to be the only one. Part of you thinks he’d rather be out with Angie, but he’s not. He’s with you.

“How is your day going?” you ask kindly.

Victor nods, and you smile. “Thank you, for all of it.”

You see the watch on his wrist, surprised that he hasn’t taken it off yet. When the waiter approaches, you turn to order, and Victor’s hand brushes yours under the table. His touch disappears quickly, but the spark you felt sticks with you.

It’s no secret to you that you have feelings for Victor, but now you wonder how obvious they are to other people, to him. Friends aren’t usually so willing to take one another on dates and buy custom gifts to prove that a day dedicated to love doesn’t have to be scripted or stereotypical. Yet, here you are. Sitting in a nice restaurant with a guy who has never given you anything close to an idea that there could be more between you.

Victor tugs his hand back into his lap before he takes it too far. Your kindness, loving actions, and soft questions and reassurances make Victor see the point of Valentine’s Day. You show him love daily, he realizes, but today is the one day that it is wholly acceptable to show off the person you love and shower them with the gifts they deserve. It’s a day of appreciation, which happens to involve cards and chocolate for some people.

✯✯✯✯✯

As you leave the restaurant after a dinner filled with pointless conversation, neither of you willing to acknowledge the touch or the fact that this is a date, you walk beside Victor and work up the courage to speak.

“Is there anything else you want to do? We need to make the day perfect.”

Victor slows, and you turn toward him as he answers, “You’re all I’ll ever want.”

“Vic.”

“I think I knew. Or have known, for a while, I just didn’t realize what it meant,” Victor admits quietly, his eyes on the ground.

“So, what now?” you whisper.

Victor takes your hand, and your skin alights at his touch. He fights for his composure, his entire being bending to your will with a single touch. Knowing that he is totally yours, Victor doesn’t hesitate to answer.

“I could marry you right now.”

Your hand tightens around his fingers, and you silently hope his trench coat is soft before you lean against it, hiding your face against his shoulder.

“Why’d you ask if the answer was going to make you shy away from me?” Victor asks.

“I was expecting a, ‘let’s take it slow’ or ‘we’ll see,’ not a few words short of a proposal,” you say against him.

“It’s your fault. You’re the one who wanted to show me the point of Valentine’s Day.”

Pulling back, you look at Victor, whose eyes seem softer than usual. You argue, “It may have worked a bit too well.”

Victor runs his tongue over his bottom lip before tipping his head toward you to ask, “Are you denying that everything you say and do comes from a place of love? Love for me?”

“Vic.”

“You already said that. You’re getting redundant.”

“I- we…“ You stop, inhaling deeply before asking, “Is this ending tonight? Was all of this just for Valentine's Day?”

“Oh,” Victor says, making a noise that sounds suspiciously like a chuckle as he pulls you against his side and begins walking again. “This is starting tonight.”

Bonus: 2 Years Later

"Vic, it's falling apart, just let me replace the watch," you beg. "I can get the same engraving, like it's the same watch."

"It won't be the same watch," he argues. "I like this watch."

"The new one can be a Valentine's Day gift, just like that one was."

Victor's hand gently cups your hip, turning you toward him as he says, "You will have to take this watch from my dead body."

Speechless, you blink at him. "Okay."

He nods, keeping a hand on your back as he returns to what he was doing.

"But could I at least get it cleaned or something?" you add.

Victor's hands move to your face, cupping your cheeks as he says, "Absolutely not."

[fluentmoviequoter]

The Killer You Know

Inspired by the ideas of @astroherogirl!! Thanks for talking about Vic with me!!

Pairing: Victor Vale x fem!reader

Summary: After moving to Lockland, a series of events and new people show Victor what he's missing: you.

Warnings: childhood friends to lovers, slight angst, fluff, spoiler for Vicious

Word Count: 2.0k+ words

Victor Vale Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

Art from Pinterest

Anyone willing to look at Victor Vale will see that he only has one real friend: you, but no one is willing to look. His relationships with his parents and with other kids his age are nonexistent. Somehow, you broke through his quiet, reserved exterior and got to know the person beneath.

“Don’t do that,” you chide.

“Do what?” Victor grumbles.

“You’re shutting down. Whatever happened doesn’t have to hurt you.”

Victor doesn’t reply, keeping his eyes on the boys behind you.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Throughout middle and high school, you begin to realize that what seemed to be a bad reaction to hurt feelings is Victor’s poor coping mechanisms and defense systems. You can respond to his problems without asking what they are, knowing what he needs before he does, but Victor takes it for granted. You don’t mind doing the work without thanks because you care about him. His silence and reluctance to accept your care as you grow older helps you realize that you’re falling for him, willing to do anything and everything for him, no matter what you lose on the way. Even as you accept your love for Victor, you never consider that he may be incapable of returning the sentiment.

✯✯✯✯✯

When Victor leaves for college, it’s the first time in your life that you’re away from him for longer than a week or two. You’re excited for him as you hug him farewell, unsurprised when he doesn’t return the affection. Victor may not miss you, but you think about him enough for both of you. Attempting to focus on your future in Victor’s absence, you have difficulty thinking of a life without him.

Upon arriving at Lockland, Victor learns that you know him very well. No one reacts to his stabbing comments or defensive responses in the way you do. Victor finds himself craving things he can’t place because you know him better than he does. He has no idea what he wants without you by his side. Victor also learns you are the only person who can look at him and know exactly what he needs to hear.

It takes a few days and several life-changing realizations for Victor to reach out, but now he’s desperate for your presence. If letters and phone calls are the way he can stay in contact with you, he’ll take it.

✯✯✯✯✯

“You met a girl,” you accuse after Victor mentions doing something with ‘her.’

He hums, and you press, “Does she have a name or are her parents of the mindset that names are unnecessary defining marks placed on children in the dictatorship of parenthood?”

“What?” Victor replies.

“What’s her name, Vic?”

“Angie. Angie Knight. She, uh, she sat by me in the cafeteria, and- I don’t know, I’ve never felt like this before.”

Simultaneously happy for your best friend and heartbroken at the idea of him falling for someone else, you’re unsure what to say.

“She’s been spending time with me and Eli,” Victor adds.

“So, she seems interested too,” you deduce. “I hope it works out, Vic.”

“I do, too.”

✯✯✯✯✯

“I’m happy for you two,” Victor lies, looking at the space between Eli and Angie rather than at them. “You’re good together.”

“Thanks, Vic,” Eli asks, smiling his monster-hiding grin.

Victor nods, creating an excuse to leave dinner early. As he walks back to his room in the dark, he starts to feel like he will never be able to trust anyone again. Angie used him to get to Eli, as far as he can see with hindsight, and Eli didn’t think twice before opening his arms and his life to her, despite knowing about Victor's feelings for her.

Eli could get anyone he wanted, yet he waited for Victor to find the only woman he may ever love and went for her. Victor wants to call you and let you tell him what he needs to hear, but now he’s wondering if you have an ulterior motive, too. Maybe you treat him so well because of who his parents are, though you’ve never indicated that you knew or cared that Victor was a trust fund kid. Victor’s mind drifts away from you and to Eli’s ExtraOrdinary theory, letting his mind take him wherever it wishes. He’s aware you’d tell him not to do anything stupid and act against him to keep him safe, but you’re not here.

✯✯✯✯✯

Victor is in the hospital when he finally cracks, calling you after not hearing from you for a few days.

“Hey, Vic, sorry for the silence. It’s been crazy here. How are you?” you greet.

“I, uh- could you come visit for a day or two? The weekend maybe?” he asks.

“What’s wrong? You don’t sound like yourself,” you say.

“Will you come?”

“Yes. Of course, Vic.”

“I’m in the hospital. Eli and I were doing an experiment, and it went wrong.”

You inhale sharply before asking, “Are you okay?”

“I will be. Just- I just don’t want to be alone here.”

Victor Vale has never admitted something like this, never been vulnerable and open. It scares you. When you leave an hour later, you’ve considered every possibility of what you’ll find when you get to Merit.

✯✯✯✯✯

“You tried to kill yourself?” you ask, standing at the door of Victor’s hospital room.

“No,” he answers quickly. “Eli and I- we were trying to test his theory and it went wrong, but I wasn’t trying to kill myself.” And stay dead, Victor thinks.

“The doctor told me what happened, and it sounds a lot like a botched suicide attempt. Victor, what is going on with you?”

“You remember Angie?” he asks.

Your heart sinks, thinking that he must really love her if she managed to drive him to this point. “Yes.”

“She became one of my best friends after we met in the cafeteria that day, but I wanted more. Didn’t know what to do about it.” Victor nods before he adds, “Not even sure I could love someone.”

You bite the inside of your cheek to hide your pain. “Maybe you should just tell her, Vic.”

“It’s too late.”

“It’s never too late,” you say softly, smiling when Victor looks over at you. “And you deserve to be happy, Vic.”

If Victor wants Angie, you can’t stay. You’ve been close to him for as long as you can remember, but he needs room for another girl now. This moment, in the hospital room, you decide to give Victor room, both physically and emotionally.

“So, tell me about Eli’s theory,” you request, prepared to spend one last weekend with Victor, then leave him to be happy in a life that doesn’t include you.

✯✯✯✯✯

After you leave, it’s like you disappear. Victor can’t get in touch with you, and the lack of your presence in his life drives Victor back to Angie. She’s still close to Eli, but Victor has already lost part of himself to Angie: the part he never should have given away is still in her grip as she smiles with Eli.

At a party, numb to the world around him, Victor texts Angie. He may as well let her have all of him in his hand. The worst that could happen is proving Eli wrong, and Victor is prepared to risk it all, lost and broken in a life without you.

✯✯✯✯✯

Angie’s scream fades, and Victor has a fresh clarity. He wasn’t expecting this level of consciousness following death, and he doesn’t want it to end. His pain wavers, mixing with the emotions of you leaving the hospital, killing Angie, and coming back from the dead. After turning a dial in his mind, the pain dies away, and Victor returns to his usual thinking, left with one thought: everything he wanted from Angie was freely given to him by you.

Victor finds an empty room, sitting alone in guilt and confusion. Realizing that you loved him, showing your love in little ways that he didn’t understand until he came back from the dead, explains why you left. All of his focus on Angie drove you to step back, stop calling, and make room for Angie. You thought Victor loved Angie, but you love him enough to give him room to try loving someone else.

When sirens begin growing closer, Victor has to make a split-second decision: face Eli and the consequences or run.

✯✯✯✯✯

You are woken by someone pounding on your door. Rubbing your eyes as you rise from bed, you yell, “Who is it?”

“It’s me,” Victor answers. “Please let me in.”

I’ve been letting you in for years, but you never return the favor, you think, opening the door.

“I messed up,” Victor admits.

You raise your brows, curious as to where this is going. It seems unlikely that it’s about you.

Victor craves your comfort and love, but your crossed arms and the space you’re keeping between you worry him. If he’s too late, or if you see the monster he has become, he will lose you forever.

“Angie,” Victor begins. “I wasn’t in love with Angie. I liked the idea of her, and I lied to her when I told her I was happy for her and Eli, but she was never going to be able to love me, either.”

“Vic, slow down.”

“I didn’t mean to kill her.”

Your eyes widen, and your arms drop away from your chest as you ask, “What?”

“Eli had this theory about ExtraOrdinaries, and when he died and came back, he became immortal.”

“Your suicide was an attempt to get superpowers?”

“Yes,” Victor confesses. “And I tried again, Angie brought me back and I couldn’t control what was happening. I guess the pain was too strong.”

“You killed Angie?” you whisper, stepping back.

“I- I didn’t mean to, I promise. But, I also realized that you love me. Maybe not romantically, but everything you do for me, how deeply you know me, it comes from love, right?”

“Vic!” you yell, wrapping your arms around your waist. “Stop talking.”

“I-“

“Stop talking!”

Victor closes his mouth, standing up straight as he watches your internal debate. You shuffle in place before looking down and mouthing a few words to yourself. Just as Victor begins to think about leaving, you look up.

“You got superpowers, accidentally killed Angie, and realized I love you in the same night?”

“Same hour,” Victor corrects.

“I don’t know what you want me to do, Victor.”

“I want you to choose.”

You are at an impasse: trust the killer you know or cut your losses, leaving Victor to deal with the consequences of his actions. Victor wouldn’t have killed Angie on purpose, even if she did betray him, because some part of him still cared for her. And he wouldn’t throw around a word like ‘love’ unless he truly believed it. He’s right; everything you’ve ever done for him was driven by love.

Knowing Victor the way you do, understanding how he thinks, what he needs, and how and why Victor does certain things helps you piece together the facts Victor rambled about. Now, he’s standing outside your door, trying to invite you in and be vulnerable with you, and you can’t leave him like this. Aware that he never mentioned loving you, too, you find the solution to your dilemma.

Wrapping your arms over his shoulders, you hug Victor and pull him inside. He clings to you, knowing that you aren’t using him, that you won’t betray him like everyone else.

“Everything will be okay,” you promise.

Victor pulls back from the hug to say, “You can’t promise that.”

“I can try to make it okay.”

Victor kisses you quickly, more a brush of his lips against yours than a real kiss. You smile, pushing yourself closer to him in the darkness.

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes, though you’re unsure if he’s talking about the kiss or the entire situation.

“I’ve been waiting for this since middle school,” you confess.

“Why’d you stay? Drop everything to help me? Even after you know what I’ve done.”

“Because I know you, Victor Vale. Better than you know yourself.”