#like blow it on viktors mouth

[unluckiestmember]

Arcane x Ransom! Reader

Summary: How would the Arcane characters react if the reader was held for ransom?

Characters: Jinx/Powder, Violet "Vi", Caitlyn Kiramman, Viktor, Jayce Talis, Sevika, Silco and Licker (mention).

Warning: Slight cursing and suggestive themes/implied sexual themes.

A/N: I literally got the idea for this request from Helluva Boss, particular episode 6 of season 2. I hope you all enjoy this though, I know I did!

Powder/Jinx

“You have who?! Where are they?!… You want me to pay you for them? Oh I’ll pay you alright!”

Jinx doesn’t take the idea of you getting hurt lightly. She already is super overprotective of her little trinket, so when she heard that you were being held for a price, she wasted no time grabbing Pow-Pow, Zapper and a bunch of chompers to aid her in her “heroic rescue” for her princess/prince. As soon as she is where you are held, you don’t have to see her to know she’s there for you. Don’t expect any talking, just laughter and hollers followed by gunfire, screams for mercy and explosions.

Before you know it, the Loose Cannon is standing in front of you, pulling you into the tightest hug ever and dressing your face with kisses. She will ask you countless questions while freaking out, beating herself up over you being in such a position. But when she feels you touch her and assure her you’re okay, she’s on cloud nine. As soon as she laces the area with bombs to blow it to kingdom come, she’s back at her hideout, being super affectionate and touchy the entire night. Don’t expect anyone to be touching you for months unless they want their head blown off.

Violet “Vi”

“… What?… You… You just pissed off the wrong woman.”

First word that you were kidnapped, Vi wasted no time hunting your captors down and beating them to a bloody pulp. The woman is like a bull seeing red knowing you were somewhere cold and scared away from home and her arms. So until you were back to her, anyone was able to get a personal greeting from the pink haired fighter. Vi is pretty merciful, but in situations like this, she isn’t afraid to push the envelope by giving life threatening injuries to the bastards that hurt you.

When she found you, she didn’t bother asking any questions or giving any money to your kidnappers, unless they counted a mouthful of fists and kicks as payment enough. When she’s done with her punishment, she’ll immediately scoop you into her arms and take the both of you back home, where she checks you for injuries and asks if you are okay. Please comfort her. She may act all tough and cool, but the situation scared her due to thinking she lost you just like everyone else. As soon as she knows you are alright, she’ll promise no one will ever do that to you again.

Caitlyn Kiramman

“You kidnapped Y/N? Why would- Who do you think you are? You better let them go right now!”

Caitlyn was used to people being kidnapped on the job, having to save them or negotiate with criminals for their safety. But she would have never imagined such a thing happening to you of all people. When she was told you were being held for ransom, she understandably panicked before taking deep breaths and thinking of how to get you back to her. The enforcer can easily scrounge up the money for you to be freed, because you were more important than any coin that reaches her pockets.

So when she arranges a meeting with your kidnappers and finds you so scared, she finds it hard to stop herself from grabbing you and making a run for it. If the kidnappers pull a fast one on her though, all bets are off and bullets are flying. When she has you back, she will watch you like a hawk and be on the defensive for a while. But if you assure her enough that you are okay, she will lighten up. On the bright side, after the incident she’s more romantic and spends more time with you in and out of work.

Viktor

“Look, I’m sure we can talk about this. I’ll get you the money, just. Please don’t hurt them…”

Viktor beat himself up when he heard you were taken away from him for monetary purposes. He just doesn’t understand how he would let this happen- How he would let someone easily take you under his nose and put you in harm’s way?! He could’ve waddled in his sorrows, but he couldn’t. He had to save you and he had to act fast! It would hurt him, but he would ask for assistance from Jayce and the council if he can. And if they can’t help him? Well. Maybe it was time to break out those so-called dangerous machines Heimerdinger warned him against using.

When he finds you, he’s wasting no time trying to negotiate a way around matters so you could be freed. And if those negotiations don’t go according to plan, then he’ll use his machinery and his brain to outsmart the criminals into freeing you. When you are back together, he’ll just. Hold you. Like you are a precious gemstone. He’ll promise you this will never happen again. No one will ever lay their hands on you again…

Jayce Talis

“Is this supposed to scare me? If anything, you should be the one scared- Do you know who I am?!”

Jayce does not take threats lightly, especially when it comes to his family, friends and his loved ones. As soon as he was told you were held for Ransom, he let his anger and determination to get you back fuel him to do anything to send a message and bring you back to safety. You will immediately know your boyfriend got the message because in a matter of hours, enforcers are barging into the area you were held like they were entering a war, shooting, punching and slamming anyone who got in their way from their goal; You.

And Jayce is in the middle of it all, swinging his hammer without remorse before running to your rescue as your knight in shining armor. As soon as you grab his hand, he’s walking you back to his place casually through the enforcers destroying everything in their sights and leaving a message for the assholes that took you; Never. Ever. Touch the councilman’s lover. Don’t expect to go anywhere without guards following you if Jayce isn’t, whether you want to or not. Jayce just can’t take the chance for you to be taken again. Is it extreme? Yes. But it was worth it.

Sevika

“Ransom? Seriously? Please, that’s nothing. And I’m about to show you why.”

When it comes to ransom, Sevika wasn’t new to having her friends or past lovers be kidnapped for money. So when she heard you were being held hostage, she casually grabbed her poncho, fixed her arm for a brawl and headed outside to round her co-workers up. When she found you and the ones that took you, she wasted no time kicking in the doors and sicking her co-workers on everyone before she made her way towards you after knocking some skulls in. She’ll ask if you are okay and especially check you for any injuries before grabbing you and joking how you found yourself in this predicament.

The fight rages on as soon as she places you outside for safety. Saving you wasn’t enough. No, she needed everyone to know that when someone messes with you, they have to deal with her and the rest of Zaun. When everything is over and done, Sevika will take you both back home and treat any injuries you want before kissing your cheek and simply talking as if you weren’t kidnapped to begin with. If you think she doesn’t care, then hoo boy. The way she’ll treat you that night in bed will make you think otherwise.

Silco

“Hmm… If I were you, I’d beg for mercy when I get there…”

Silco is never one to be threatened because he’s always the one making the threats. Hearing about you being held for Ransom made him immediately go on the move to round up Sevika to follow him in bringing you back to him. If he gets there and doesn’t find you anywhere, he will deliver a silent signal to bring the house down. But if you are present, then he won’t need violence to be delivered by his Right Hand. He’ll just need to put the fear of gods into your kidnapper.

He’ll paint them a picture of how he’ll find their families and let them listen to the melody of their bones breaking. How he’ll have Licker carve paintings into their bodies and let them choke on their own blood as they beg for mercy. What do they think of that? They wouldn’t like that at all. As a matter of fact, they would hate it so much that they would release you and fade from existence right there. As soon as you are back to Silco, he’s going to take you back home as if this was only a minor inconvenience. But as soon as you two are behind closed doors, he can’t help from keeping his hands to himself and make promises against your skin.

If you have any requests for Arcane, X-Men '97 or Blue Eye Samurai, send them my way!

Likes and retweets are always appreciated! I love you all, stay safe, stay hydrated and have a good day!

[honey-pages]

On Your Knees - Viktor x Reader

Description -

After confessing his attraction to you, Viktor invites you to visit him in his room.

1.5k words

F/M. 18+. Smut. Blow job.

You had been seeing Viktor now for a week or so, after he expressed his feelings in an unexpected confession. You had been working as his assistant previously and he detailed that he could not, in good conscience, act on his urges when he was in a position of power - as much as you would have wanted him to. Therefore, after your job role changed and you became more independent in your duties, Viktor was back in your line of vision.

It was a well-kept secret that you both were so suited to each other. The other assistants and staff at the lab had their suspicions of your intimacy, but Viktor, noticing the subtle glances, had clarified.

“No, no. Miss (Y/N) is my assistant. I would not take advantage, no matter how charming I may find her.”

You were surprised at his openness. The conversation had gotten back to you through a friend and what could have been understood as a gentle complimentary joke, to you, meant the world. When you finally built up the courage to ask Viktor privately about this, he confirmed. Yes, he had meant it. Although he had also mentioned that a public announcement was not really the way he had intended on doing it.

You had been close since and were still in your early stages of the budding relationship. You decided it was probably time to pay him a visit. He had invited you to his room at around dinnertime. But dinnertime is an ambiguous concept for Viktor as he eats when he can fit it in, and so knowing what time to arrive was a risky decision.

You made a guess that around now was the right time and so you set out for his room. It was oddly quiet around and the walk between your rooms was not too far, you only passed a few people and no one you were well acquainted with. You approached his door after a long corridor. He had told you previously when he had invited you over to just walk straight in and not bother knocking, but that felt a little strange not knowing if he was expecting you or not. Nervousness made its appearance, and you paced slightly while considering your options. There must be a reason that he would encourage you not to knock. This was Viktor. There was probably some unknown secret project that was sound sensitive or something along those lines. You decided to walk in without knocking.

Viktor's door opened silently into a hallway which, in turn, opens into his living and workspace. His work desk is in his living room you remembered, although the light suggests that he is currently on his sofa. You put down your bag and kick off your shoes – its polite practice. You quietly turn the corner to face his living room, hoping to not disturb him by chance he was sleeping or working. In front of you, central to the sofa, Viktor sat with his hand around his cock.

His head was fallen back against the backrest of the chair and his eyes were closed. His mouth hung open, his face jerking around with the furious motion of his arm. He was panting, lost in the pleasure he was giving to himself. You had not seen him like this before. Sure, you had shared a kiss or so and light touching, but to see him so primal and vulnerable, so explicit. Standing and watching as he pleasured himself ignited some deep lust you had not yet unleashed for him, something strong and needy and -seeing him like this? - desperate.

His raw moans seemed to bring out vague words, peppered with the sound his hand made when reaching the bottom of his shaft. A repeated light slapping sound.

“Oh, fuck- “He choked out, softly to himself, as though he was struggling for breath. “(Y/N) …”

You freeze up a little bit at your mention. It suddenly made the situation so real, so red, so lustful.

“Yes?” You reply hushed, in fear of startling him, marvelling at him as though he was some mysterious undisturbed presence.

He jolted in his seat a little at your reply.

“How long have you been watching?” He managed, his grip loosened and slowed, now taking twice as long from tip to base, but not ceasing. A blush swept his face.

His hair fell around his face as he raised his head forwards, fixing his eyes on you the second they opened. He held you there in intense intimacy. You had no idea what to reply. You did not want to give the impression you had stood there fixated for too uncomfortably long. But how long had you been stood there? You had no idea. You were lost in this train of thinking when the thought of him reemerged.

“I um- Just a minute I think?” Was all you could string together; you were flustered seeing him like this.

“Come here” He purred, patting his knee with his free hand.

You approached him carefully, stomach in knots.

“Please, Miss (Y/N), on your knees”.

You lower yourself before him, settling yourself between his thighs on your knees.

“I really did mean it when I said I found you charming.”

He smiles warmly, his hand still slowly stroking himself. His gaze is intense, focused and fixed. He looks into your eyes, maybe watching the reflection of the light in them that made them glint, or maybe watching the outline of his cock in their reflection. It was unbreakable. The bond between you was powerful, inevitable even.

“Now please, (Y/N), open your mouth for me.”

You moved your face forward, level with him. His intense focus eased to a warmer output of eager want, his eyebrows hiking up at their insides, his face ready to melt itself into the open-mouthed submission he was offering you. You cast him a smile in return, a guarantee that you will satisfy. Your mouth salivated, and you hold him gently in one hand, lowering your mouth to run your hot tongue from the base of him to the top.

He shudders instantly, gripping the base of the sofa more firmly with his legs to steady himself, his head falling back once more, breaking the eye contact. His hand is propped lightly against his thigh, and at this sensation he tenses and flexes his fingers. Trailing your way up and down him, you flick your tongue over the tip, before engulfing him into the heat of your wet mouth. At this, his eyes open, and he stares breathlessly at the ceiling. Both of his hands come to meet at the back of your head and fix themselves into your hair, holding firmly but gently.

“Oh, fuck.” He mutters out a few unintelligible words before he settles on some that are understandable, “Your mouth- you’re…please, slow down.”

His grip in your hair holds tighter as his hips begin to jerk themselves upwards, betraying his composure. His eyes flash down to ensure he’s not choking you in doing so, he knows his size is more than adequate.

“Do you mind if I?” He asks, beginning to slowly take control of your head, moving it at his will to use your mouth as he wishes.

“No, you don’t mind, do you? You look too content in the knowledge that you’ve almost tipped me over the edge already Miss (Y/N).” A small grin seeps into his smile, dirty and knowing.

You work hard on matching the rhythm he is setting you with the pace of your tongue. You wrap it around him and swirl it in time with his upward thrusts, pushing and pulling him further into your mouth, to fill and force his way into the barrier of your throat. Your spit is beginning to drip at the corners of your mouth, down your chin, and he notices, wiping it away with his fingers.

“So very beautiful. I have always thought so, but now its undoubtable. You are going to swallow all of me, aren’t you?”

You nod in satisfaction; you can’t wait to see him undone. At your consent, he speeds up once more, becoming more frantic and fast without sacrificing his gentle hold. His whimpers turn into moans and expletives and his throat is purring. You feel him get harder and stiffer under your hands and tongue as he comes to his end.

“I’m going to- “He pants, “Its- “

You push him deeper than before, holding him there as you feel his cock spasm, pulsating as it thrusts forward, filling you fully.

“Oh fuck, (Y/N)- “

You swallow him. He wheezes as he catches his breath back, red faced and sweating, he sits still for a moment. After resting for a few moments, stroking your hair with his hand, he pulls you up onto the sofa next to him. He draws you close, wrapping his arms around you and bringing your head to his bare chest.

“I got quite carried away there.” He manages, hands finding their way to your shoulders, moving to tilt up your chin to face him. “I didn’t go too fast, did I?”

You smile and shake your head as a reply, seeing him fully relaxed and finished has left him dishevelled and hot and his warmth is meting into yours as you lay on him.

“I think it’s time I return the favour.”

[yukioos]

ESPRESSO (BED CHEM PT2)

SUMMARY: viktor x reader // you awake from loud bangs at the end of the hallway. spooked, you cautiously walk down just to see it was jayce and viktor with their working hextech, and a not so happy professor heimdinger.

AUTHORS NOTE: hi guysss!! requests for jayce, mel, and viktor are now open! i might start writing for other arcane character soon. sorry this took so long to post 💗 also tysm for 300 followers! i never knew bed chem would blow up so much :) i appreciate all the love and support! kinda feel like i should make a part 3 but im not sure yet🤭🤭 this is 1.4k words

WARNINGS: cussing, not proofread

TAGS: @th3stup1dcat @aise-30 @22carolina08 @sarahskywalker-amidala @novausstuff @sseleniaa @blueesmiski @coffeemin @na0mii03

loud bangs awake you from your sleep. you jump up, feeling startled by the intense noise. you grumble from your comfortable bed and give in, throwing your luxury covers off your body.

cool air quickly envelopes your frame, and you swing your legs over the side of your bed, laying your feet on the cold floor. you shiver at the feeling, then slip on your fuzzy slippers, meant for walking during cold mornings.

enforcers must be at the place of disturbance. you wouldn’t know what to do if they aren’t already dealing with the problem. after picking up a coat from a hanger, you quickly walk to the noise.

unpredictably, the enforcers were the individuals causing the disruption. professor heimerdinger stands in the middle of the two men dressed in dark blue. you stand at a safe distance, watching the enforcers pound on the door, observing the moment.

loud buzzing and crackling is heard from inside the lab, and blue light shines through the cracks of the door. you remember what you said to the two men just a couple of hours ago. hopefully, jayce and viktor haven’t done anything too dangerous.

the double door suddenly blasts open, and pieces of wood fly in various directions. a bright, blue ray of light explodes in the professor and enforcers’ way. you hide behind a nearby wall and cover your head, expecting the worst. but when hardly any destruction occurs, you peek around the wall.

the yordle warns, “excuse me, underfoot,” causing the enforcers to unshield their faces and stare in awe at the sight in front of them.

viewing their stances, you walk behind them and take a peek into the laboratory. viktor and jayce float around a blue ball of energy. jayce chuckles and taps a gadget into the ball of energy, and it goes right through. viktor catches it from the other side and begins giggling like a child as he makes swimming motions.

the professor stares up at the sight. his ears droop and he undoubtedly states, “you’ve actually done it.” his ears flop up, and he fidgets with his hands, “but just because it can be done, doesn’t mean…” he looks up, “will you please stop hovering?”

the cute brunette continues to move in the air, he jokes, “i’m not sure how to do that, sir.”

you giggle, placing a hand over your mouth, and the enforcers cautiously turn around. you place your finger to your mouth, silently commanding them to say nothing about your appearance.

the professor nervously adds, “this is not what piltover’s future looks like, my dear boys.” he looks behind him, a worried expression on his face, as if he’s about to break down in tears. his eyes meet yours, and he jumps, “ah! councilor l/n, what are you doing here… at this time? it’s late, you should be sleeping!”

you quickly come up with an excuse, “i apologize, professor. i couldn’t rest, so i was planning to take a trip to the garden. i thought, perhaps it would calm my nerves.”

you smile at the enforcers, and they clear their way to make a path for you. you peer into the inside of the room, eyes widening in shock. you mumble, “woah,” the sight is one of the most beautiful you’ve ever seen.

nothing could compare to this moment. this moment will be remembered in history. the blue light shines all across the room, and people float for the first time with nothing to stand on! best of all, viktor and jayce will get accreditation for this work and dedication to their hextech project.

you lock eyes with viktor just to realize his eyes were on you the whole time. warmth somehow reaches your body in the cold academy, and you still manage to ask, “how did you do this so quickly?”

“we…” viktor starts answering, not knowing how to continue without sounding stupid in front of a well-known figure and beautiful woman, “we cranked it,” he chuckles along with jayce.

you have no idea what the hell he’s talking about, but damn, does he look attractive. his eye bags are dark under his eyes. you suppose he spends most of his night working on scientific research, and his messy hair flows in the air, most likely ruining his hair from the explosion.

his white vest has stains on it, maybe from drinking tea to keep himself awake. but viktor appears as if he’s close to passing out, so you ask, “are you aware of how to get down, gentlemen?”

jayce looks at his partner, probably trying to check in with him, “maybe turn the dial to the left?”

viktor shrugs and states, “worth a shot.”

you walk to the dial and ask the two men if you’re near the correct one. you slowly turn it left, anxiously waiting for something terrible to happen, or for one of them to command you to halt your movement.

the two brunettes suddenly drop at a quick speed, yelling at the unexpected scene. you move at lightning speed, running to the closest man, as the two enforcers run to the other. you half-catch the taller, lean man, his feet on the ground as you hold his waist for security.

he stares at you for a few moments as his face flushes, he mumbles, “thank you, councilor l/n.” and smiles at you, eyes darting from you to his cane, lying on the ground.

his arm lays around your shoulder, and you bring him close to a desk he can lean on. without a word, you step over to his handmade cane and pick up the delicate material, placing it in his hand. he thanks you once again.

you come up with an idea and grin to yourself. you politely ask, “are you two free tomorrow? i would like to talk about the future of piltover and what you have planned for what you will do with the hextech next.”

jayce brushes off his pants and places his hand on his chin before smirking, “actually! i have to uhh—“ he stutters, attempting to come up with an excuse, “i’m hanging out with caitlyn. i’m afraid i can’t make it, councilor l/n.”

you drown and politely reword your sentence, “perhaps we can reschedule a time so you can come—“

“oh, no! that isn’t necessary, please do not worry about it. i’m sure viktor can tell me everything you’ll talk about with him.” jayce winks at the shorter brunette. he gives him a sharp glare back.

“i am free of events tomorrow. where should we meet? and at what time, councilor?” viktor asks, trying to appear formal and proper in front of you.

“how about we discuss it at celine’s around twelve? it’s just six blocks past the academy.”

he smiles and looks down at you, “that would be perfect,” his freckles stand out to you so much.

you take a moment to remember his face before sighing, “it’s late. we should all be going to bed.”

many agrees and chuckles at shears from around you, and you smile and wave at the three scientists and two enforcers. as you step through the hallway, you jump and cheer, pumping your fist in the air. you practically get to go on a date with viktor tomorrow!

once he and jayce are the only individuals in the room, viktor leans on the desk and places his head in his hands, groaning. he isn’t ready to talk to you one-on-one yet.

jayce rolls his eyes, “what’s wrong? i just gave you a pass to be alone with her— for hours. that’s the perfect time to get to know her.”

“what am i supposed to talk about, jayce? you know i’m not the best at conversations or communicating, what makes you think i can talk to a person i’m interested in?” he complains, gently hitting his head with his wrist.

“it’ll come to you when you’re ready.”

“that isn’t helpful at all,” viktor side eyes the taller man, who just shrugs and tells him goodnight.

as viktor walks back to his room, even as he brushes his teeth, puts on his sleep clothes, all he can think about is impressing you tomorrow. maybe jayce is right, maybe he just doesn’t know how he’d talk to you now.

[cruedxm]

𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐄 𝐌𝐄𝐍 𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒

𝐉𝐀𝐘𝐂𝐄

𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐈𝐂𝐄: Jayce is wholeheartedly a servicer—if he can sacrifice his life’s work for Piltover and its citizen’s safety, best bet he’ll do anything you ask of him. You want him on his knees? Say the word and he’s instantly on the floor. Want to try something new? He’s all for it, even if it means letting you get on top for once. Anything you ask, he’s open-minded and prepared…mostly. 

𝐎𝐑𝐀𝐋 𝐅𝐈𝐗𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍: While Jayce may enjoy fucking you like there’s no tomorrow, there’s nothing he enjoys more than having the pleasure of going down on you. Whether it’s shoving your cock down his throat until he’s gagging, or eating your cunt getting a lot less oxygen than he should be, he’s having the time of his life. 

𝐃𝐄𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍: Jayce has received so much praise from the council and Piltover as a whole, and he’s tired of everyone being nice. He’ll get on his knees and beg you to call him a slut—your slut. Spit in his mouth, call him a whore, and he’s going to come so hard he sees stars. Better yet, treat him like he’s only good for sex at first, act hard to please, and he’ll be the most loyal person on Runeterra to you.

𝐕𝐈𝐊𝐓𝐎𝐑

𝐄𝐃𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐆: Viktor’s a very busy man, but he when he’s finally having  a little free time, he does make up for it in his incredible ability to be able to edge you for hours. He can tease you for as long as he wants, knowing how to pull the right strings to have you so close to coming, yet not reaching your release, teetering on that fine line until he has mercy on you.

𝐓𝐎𝐘𝐒: Viktor does lacks the ability to actively fuck you, though he does have an expansive collection of toys he actively uses on you. A dildo, a fucking machine, you name it, he has it. One of his numerous hobbies is to tie you up and leave you at the mercy of one of his toys while he does paperwork, hearing you squirm and whine in the background works as perfect white noise.

𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐈𝐄𝐒: As I said, he’s an extremely busy man. If you visit him during brief breaks he takes for lunch or dinner, he’s sure to allocate 5 minutes to either get on his knees or have you ride him. Jayce and Sky will leave for their respective breaks, and he’ll sneak you in to the lab for a quick session before you’re both getting back to work, though you may or may not have almost been interrupted a few times.

𝐄𝐊𝐊𝐎

𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄: Ekko is one with nature, preserving the tree in which the Firelights hide out in is one of his top priorities. Thus, he often takes you up to the very top of the tree to be surrounded by the greenery, and to have privacy. When you both decide to have some fun, that’s always his go-to spot, hidden amongst the numerous branches and leaves for utmost seclusion.

𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐖 𝐉𝐎𝐁𝐒: With many of Silco’s plans to thwart, the leader of the Firelights has little during the day to go the full nine yards, but sneaking in a blow job here and there has proved to be simple and effective. Some of the more perceptive firelights have seen you and Ekko go into a room with the man wound up and stressed, coming out like Jesus had baptised him and washed his stress away.

𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃-𝐁𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆: Ekko isnt super into full-on extravagant rope bondage, but he does enjoy using his belt or a piece of silk to keep your hands in place. Alternatively, you use them on him, and while he can most certainly break free, he plays into the whole ‘unable to escape’ part, choosing to let you have your fun.

𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐂𝐎 

𝐊𝐍𝐈𝐅𝐄 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘: Silco’s a big knifeplay enthusiast, liking how you shiver when the cold blade glides across your skin, how you yelp in pain when he breaks skin. Crimson suits you perfectly, and he’s most definitely leaving his initials on your lower back to feed his possessiveness. 

𝐒𝐈𝐑 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊: He’s been called ‘sir’ by many, but it’s different with you, the way the word rolls off your tongue in an almost reverent way. The first time you called him that with a slightly teasing lilt, he bent you over and fucked you senseless, egging you on to continue calling him by that title in bed.

𝐄𝐗𝐇𝐈𝐁𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐈𝐒𝐌: He really couldn’t care less if anyone walked in on you two fucking in his office, Sevika or Jinx or whoever it is that makes the mistake of stumbling in. In fact, he gets off to seeing their looks of disgust and discomfort, all the while feeling the shame and embarrassment radiate off you as you try to hide your face from the intruders.

𝐕𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑

𝐃𝐀𝐃𝐃𝐘 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊: Vander to some, Father to many, Daddy to you, and only you. Calling him by the nickname of ‘Daddy’ had ignited something deep within him the first time you let it slip past during sex after you’d both come. He stopped in a stunned silence for a little while, and you could feel his dick instantly harden inside you, and oh boy, that was a long night for you.

𝐒𝐈𝐙𝐄 𝐃𝐈𝐅𝐅𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄: Vander’s not a big guy—he’s huge. He easily towers over everyone, and his burly frame adds to his size. He likes to poke fun at you sometimes, calling you a gnome or short-stack , but he’s just joking around. However, the moment you both are behind closed door, and his monstrous cock is buried deep in you, tracing the outline of him inside you, interlocking your hands while he’s cooing into your ear about how small you are compared to him.

𝐂𝐎𝐂𝐊-𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐆: One of his favourite pastimes is to have you situated on his lap, warming his cock up for him while he’s doing paperwork. You’ll shift and twitch, shuddering our breaths, and he’s just rub your back, whispering promises of how he’s going to fuck you so good once he’s finished his paperwork.

𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐑

𝐏𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐄 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊: Scar’s a little bit like a puppy when it comes to praise from you. Tell him that he’s done a good job with the Firelights, and he’ll be blushing like a schoolgirl. Tell him that he’s got a fantastic dick and that he knows how to please you so well, you’ve got him wrapped around your finger. 

𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆: Being that his wife (that you know nothing of) is gone, no one’s there to help the Chirean out during his ruts but you. Like those typically in ruts, he’ll growl out promises to breed you and knock you up, to give his daughter a sibling, and even if that’s not physically possible, he’s sure as hell going to try anyway. He’ll stuff you full until you’re sure that you might have health complications, and ensure that you’re not wasting a single drop of his precious come.

𝐅𝐀𝐂𝐄-𝐒𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆: Much like Jayce, he has an oral fixation unlike any other, preferring you to sit on his face above all else. If you don’t sit on his face like a chair, he’s going to go mad. He needs you to properly settle your weight down, not caring if he could break his neck. You best do what he asks, or he’ll torture you until you’re sure that you can’t come any more.

𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐁

𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘: If you ghost your breath down his neck, over his gills, Steb will shiver and squirm, eager to get away. It’s absolute torture for him when you tie him down and blindfold him, your soft breathing caressing his skin as he desperately struggles against his bindings, cock twitching furiously in your hand.

𝐃𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐘 𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐊: The nonchalant cutie isn’t so nonchalant anymore once you start dirty talking him. You’ll see his gills shiver and his teal cheeks will turn dark, soft little noises and sounds escaping his lips as he desperately averts his gaze, shifting to hide his growing arousal while ignoring your smug stare.

𝐆𝐀𝐆𝐒: Steb will gladly shove a gag into your mouth, eager to be protecting the quiet silence of your bedroom, occasionally broken by a muffled moan or a soft grunt from him. Besides, sometimes you’re too mouthy for your own good.

[sinning-23]

please please please do different arcane/opla character's kinks???? (preferably some Jayce but yk-)

OMG I was just returning to arcane roots. Mind you I haven't seen the recent season (Im waiting for my mom and sister since we all watched dit together) UHH take these smutty lil kinky lil headcanona!

P.s For as much smut as i write I have the hardest time remembering the differences between kinks and fetishes BUT I think I got it down lol. Bare with me yall.

P.P.S. I'll make a part two with some more of these guys lol I started to draw a blank on a few and get burnt out but I want to provide QUALITY writing to y'all

Enjoy-

Silco

Yknow every time I come on this god forsaken app I find myself thirsting over dead midleages if not older men....

Ahem

Smoking and Begging I feel like would be two kinks of his. And like he already is a smoker so just translating that over to the bedroom....oof.

I feel like he's the type to smoke after or before, but like in a way that relaxes him even further? YK what I'm saying? Perhaps he'll even offer you some with a firm grip on your face while he blows smoke into your mouth, just before he kisses you.

I also think the begging gets him hot under the collar. Just the idea of his partner asking so desperately for release knowing he's in control of whether they're allowed to or not really does it for him. He's ruthless but sweet in the most deliciously contradicting way. Saying things like, " Begging is so unbecoming of you my dear," or "You can beg better than that, I thought you wanted to cum?"

Sevika

Sevika my belovedddddd <3 come home baby the kids miss you lmao. Sevika seems like the type to be down for a lot but also has her limits? One thing that really gets her going though is overstim/multiple orgasms. Please let her pull as many as she can from you its literally her favorite thing watching her partner come undone. She likes to see how messy you get and how your thighs tremble and shake, damn near tensing up from the strain.

She starts slow. Maybe two...then three more.....how bout we shoot for 4 to 5? SIx you say?! Alright, let's just say fuck it and go for 7.

"C'mon, you can give me one more. Thatssss it, let go."

Vander

This is a harworking, loving, family man okay. He doesn't have time for a lot...However, he definitely has time to just have you squeeze down on him with those hot, wet walls, simply existing. Ahhh yes the art of cockwarming in cwich he is an expert in. Hes a sneaky fucker too, taking time to just position you in front of him so he can slip his cock into you, just enjoying your warmth. No movement, just there, your back to his chest, pretending like nothing is happening behind the counter.

He especially enjoys the late nights, your bodies melted into one as you just sinkkkkk down on him, just adjusting to his length, fighting the urge to move as does he. Just that's part of the fun. Expect lots of soft gentled caresses as yout walls memorize him

Vi

Babygirls got a thing for hot chicks in uniform. Be in business attire, military, or otherwise, she loves it.

I mean, honestly, I was not hot about clean white button-downs tucked into fancy dress pants adorned by emblems of silver or gold. A nice neat hairstyle, no flyaways, very much office siren.

And please god don't let you have a snappy domineering attitude, telling her what to do, sexily taunting. Babygirl will be weak in the knees.

Jinx

I don’t think she’d have any kinks if I’m being honest. I see Jinx as a very experimental and fun but soft and vanilla lover. She enjoys being treated softly and gentle, especially in a moment of vulnerability like being intimate with a partner.

Viktor

I hate to be the one to say it but stalkings/knee highs and glasses… Yall HEAR ME OUTTT HEAR ME OUT! I know that sounds really bad but if you see the vision. I feel like Viktor is a lover of pretty things, patterns and decoration. The feeling of lace or tights under his fingertips, the thrill of being the one who gets to remove your glasses before you go down on him.

All is truly a treat in his pretty yellow eyes. Especially when it's his beloved and devoted partner. He takes his time with you treating you delicately as he pulls the fabric off your kneesocks away to reveal pretty legs he gets to you all the way up to the main prize. He likes taking his time unwrapping his gifts. His favorite part is discarding it all from your body. Or at the very least, making you do it.

"Strip." He hums, leaning forward as you shed layers of clothes with a smile.

Ekko

At first I was thinking that mmm Ekko doesn't have any really kinks. Maybe he’s more vanilla but then I got thinking…

Nah nah this guy..

He likes being bitten.

Oddly enough he wasn’t sure why when you had first done it on impulse, the two of you in one of your more intimate moments. You hand grazed his shoulder, only applying slight pressure before stopping yourself from going too hard but the sound it pulled form him. Gorgeous.

“D-Do it again. Please?” He asks, lifting a bit above your too see your glossed fucked our eyes.

“Bite you?” You reiterate, trying to read him and it’s nothing but pure lust and adoration.

“Baby, please.” He huffs, lulling his neck to the side, giving you access.

Please mark him up he really likes it.

[a-confused-spoon]

So about Caitvi...

I'm no one to judge whether or not caitvi is good representation. As far as I'm concerned, I'm happy if the lesbians watching the show are happy.

...you know what does piss me off though? A teeny tiny bit more than just "a little"?

Seeing some people defend the absence of a conversation between Caitlyn and Vi with "actions matter more than words".

Like...okay, first thing first, season 2 makes it pretty clear that's bullshit given how every other pairing previously at odds resolved things through the almighty power of talking things out: Vander wrote a letter to Silco and they became gay dads in the au, Ekko went through all possible combinations of words to convince Jinx not to blow herself up, and whatever the fuck Viktor and Jayce had going on in the finale... So yeah, crazy thing to say about this season;

Secondly, when we say "actions matter more than words", are we just not counting the verbal promise of not changing followed by abuse/ pain caused by the very much action of hitting a victim of police brutality who has utterly betrayed herself and her people for the sake of helping the same exact person who hit her because she pointed out "hey, maybe don't risk shooting a child"?

GRANTED this and most of what I'll say next is applicable to most of season 2 imo- we barely get to sit with the seriousness of a situation we just have to skip to the next one, so I wouldn't say it's a caitvi thing alone... nevertheless it's present there too, so back to the main conversation-

We know Caitlyn regrets it, but does she ever understand why it's so fucked up that she did that? Vi has a rush of emotions after realizing what Cait has done and is happy to stay with her, but once they... finish in that prison, does Vi really respect herself as an individual who has gone through some tough shit or is it a passive "fuck it we ball" attitude all the way to the finale where she wears once again the enforcer badge?

Caitlyn's personal character development (one that has to do with seemingly grief alone and nothing to do with classism and power dynamics which are a massive part of the problem both on a micro and macro level) shouldn't be something that "makes up" for what she did to Vi in episode 3, and because Vi's character was criminally neglected we never really get to see her actually give a shit about herself beyond, allegedly, her relationship with Cait- which is fucked, considering Vi always ever only sees herself in relation to others (Cait or Jinx for the most part) and never as a stand alone person.

That's why that conversation was pretty much needed here.

Aside from the fact that having a conversation with a partner isn't just saying "sorry", it's about being vulnerable, letting them know you see them, telling them where you stand, being just openly honest with one another etc. (aka is an integral part of the relationship itself), it also would've been an excellent way to let all the development they couldn't show for a lack of time still shine through dialogue.

No, it's not a "wanting things spelled out", it's a "they quite literally did that a bunch of times already in this very season, so they might as well do it for the main romance too since a conversation would also be fitting for the current situation"; examples might include that one scene with Silco and Ekko in episode 7 about forgiveness, or that one scene of Isha and Jinx where Jinx literally spells out "hey you remind me of Powder, meaning myself when I was younger, the younger self I thought I left behind-" (insert that one clip of Kronk from The Emperor's New Groove).

And before anyone puts words in my mouth, this isn't coming from a place of hate for either Caitlyn and Vi or Caitvi as a ship; engaging in criticism isn't hate for what's being critiqued, so please don't assume that some conversations don't come from a place of love for the show and the characters just because they don't openly praise every bit of what we got.

edit: ...tell you what, the more I think about it the more it seems that the issues I have with how this ship comes to be aren't even super specific to these characters and their relationship, but are actually the same exact things I don't love about the general writing of season 2 on a bigger scale (lack of commentary on class oppression, character arcs that feel unfinished or cut short, the theme of love and forgiveness ending up undermining the seriousness of some situations- I'm not complaining about the theme itself nor I'm saying it comes out of nowhere, I'm saying that probably due to the pacing/lack of time we can't sit with how fucked up some stuff is before getting to the point of "love > anything else"... which isn't a wrong sentiment, I'm just talking about the journey to get there)

[tired-truffle]

Even the Gods Cry For Us

A Viktorxfem!reader fic

Chapter Word Count: 6.4k

Part 14/17

Tag list: @im-just-a-simp-le-whore @potatointhedirt (if anyone else would like to be tagged with future updates let me know!)

"I know my existence is temporary and so is yours. But god, please, as much as I love the stars they don't last forever. I don't mind being temporary as long as it means I'm temporary with you. I would paint a hundred more stars in the sky if it meant you never burnt out." - ambsthom

Warnings: Episode 6 of season 2

Masterlist

Frozen, your legs unresponsive in their stride. Your ears rang, not with the white noise that signalled your magic, but with echoes of words spoken between teacher and former pupil.

“You’re power is finite, diminished by every use.”

“The regenerative qualities of his blood will stabilize you. Apex Shimmer combined with you, the apex form of Hextech. And to think of what it could do for your lover…Mila is her name, isn’t it?”

Singed, or Dr. Reveck, as your brain supplied, though you couldn’t place the significance of his name.

It came to you in a rush, little details you hadn’t noticed until they converged into a bigger picture. Viktor’s winces when his magic faltered - he’d brushed it off as nothing more than feeling the complexities of Vander’s psyche. The exhaustion that clung to the skin under his eyes as of late, the paleness he’d chalked up to spending most of his time inside the greenhouse. The purply-grey and lines of gold that had begun to reach for his eyes, traverse across his forehead. He’d dismissed it all, and in your need for reassurance, you hadn’t challenged him. You’d believed him. Yet he seemed to know exactly what the doctor told him, like he had known for some time.

“He’s a man. And he needs my help.” Viktor paused, his sympathy for Vander running deep within his tone. “I will not sacrifice his humanity for your cause. You may leave.”

“Very well,” Dr. Reveck said, resigned too easily to be sincere. “But I assume you understand already, if you perish, this community is soon to follow. And how long will your beloved Mila last without you, do you think? You of all people know how…volatile Shimmer can be.”

Heavy boots padded towards you, and you stood still as Dr. Reveck approached. His gaunt figure cut a stark silhouette against the greenhouse's luscious backdrop.

As he passed, his piercing eyes locked onto yours. "Mila," he intoned, a slight nod accompanying the greeting.

He continued down the path, his coat rustling softly against the foliage. Just as you thought the moment had passed, his voice drifted back, barely loud enough for you to hear. "You did the unthinkable to keep him alive. It would be a shame if all your hard work and sacrifice didn't make a difference in the end."

The words hit you like a physical blow, stealing the air from your lungs. Memories you'd buried deep clawed their way to the surface - the fire that ate at your skin, the metallic tang of blood, life slipping away beneath your hands. You wanted to scream, to lash out, but your body remained stubbornly immobile.

Dr. Reveck's footsteps faded, leaving you alone with the thundering of your heart and the whisper of leaves as they responded to your magic, crackling along your limbs. You stepped forward in a daze, your legs unsteady as if you'd forgotten how to walk.

Viktor stood tall beside Vander, his head tilted in deep thought. If he’d noticed you he made no motion to acknowledge it.

You shook your head, struggling to find the words. "Viktor, I thought we talked about you telling me when something is…going on," you finally managed, your voice trembling. "Your magic, your life force, is fading and somehow you managed to hide it from me - or maybe I was just foolish enough to trust you at your word."

Viktor turned towards you then, guilt washing over his features. He opened his mouth, closed it, then sighed heavily. "I…yes. I didn't know how to inform you of my decline. You've been happy lately, for the first time in ages you’ve been without suffering. It felt wrong to steal that away."

The greenhouse suddenly felt too small, the air too thick. You paced, your footsteps echoing off the glass windows. Flowers bloomed around you in a riot of colour, their sweet scent nauseating. You’d stored as much of your magic away in the sparks as you could, but being so heightened had your emotions pulling on it against your will.

"Wrong to steal that away?" you repeated, incredulity seeping between your teeth. "How can we face what's coming if we're not honest with each other?"

Viktor's shoulders slumped and he turned his face to the side. "I believed that I could handle it on my own, find a solution before…"

"Before what?" you demanded, whirling to face him. "Before you collapsed? Before your magic gave out entirely and you died?" Your voice cracked on the last word, fear threading through your anger.

Viktor flinched as if you'd struck him. "I didn't wish to worry you," he said softly. "I thought I could spare you this."

You laughed, a bitter sound that tasted like ashes in your mouth. "Viktor, this is the opposite of sparing me. I don’t know how many times I have to tell you that before you get it through your apparently leaden skull!"

Silence fell between you, a bead of sweat rolling down the side of your face and you wiped it away with a shaking hand. The greenhouse's climate control system hummed softly.

"How long?" you asked, dreading the answer.

Viktor held your gaze, his jaw tense. "I have time. It’s not immediate. I would have informed you if the situation became dire.”

Your anger dissolved into a piercing ache, like he’d taken a needle to your heart. Your eyes stung with unshed tears as you stared at Viktor, this man you'd trusted with your life, your heart, your soul. How could he have kept something so significant from you? You knew the answer, but that didn’t make it hurt any less.

"I can't believe you," you whispered, your voice thick as you swallowed back your tears. "After everything we've been through, all our talks of facing things together, and you do this?" You ran a hand through your hair, tugging at the roots in frustration.

A terrible thought struck you then, cold and sharp as an icicle through your chest. "Do you not…trust me?" It came out small and broken as though you were afraid to say it aloud.

Viktor's eyes widened, a flash of panic crossing his face. "No, that's not it at all," he insisted, reaching out to you. But you stepped back, your body instinctively recoiling from his touch.

"I don't believe anything you say right now." The words tasted sour on your tongue, like the caustic smoke of burning bridges. "I need space."

You turned away, unable to bear the sight of his stricken face any longer. The greenhouse stretched out before you and you longed to lose yourself in its winding paths, to disappear among the exotic blooms and delicate foliage.

"We’ll talk about this later," you added, glancing over your shoulder. Viktor stood frozen, his hand still outstretched, a statue of regret. "But not right now. I just…I can't."

With a heavy heart, you strode away from Viktor. As you reached the greenhouse door, you paused. Without looking back, you could feel Viktor's pleading gaze boring into you, heavy with desperate apologies he didn’t voice - out of respect for your request for space or too stunned at your anger. The weight of it pressed against your spine, urging you to turn around, to forgive, to understand.

But you couldn't. Not yet. With a deep breath, you pushed open the door and stepped out into the fresh air, leaving behind the man you loved and the trust that lay shattered like shards of broken glass.

You made your way through the winding paths of the commune, your vision blurred by brimming tears. The vibrant colours and bustling activity around you became distorted, as if seen through a sheer veil of gauze. The sounds of life in the commune faded into an indistinguishable hum, overridden by the pounding of your heart in your ears.

Your feet carried you to the outskirts of the settlement, where the neat rows of buildings gave way to fields of produce, carefully tended, but deserted as lunch rolled around.

You sank to your knees among the high-reaching stalks, finally allowing the tears to fall. They streamed down your cheeks, hot and salty, dripping like raindrops onto the earth, the dirt soaking them up like a sponge.

Your body remained still, no tremors or sobs, only a silent cry. The emptiness inside you had numbed any deeper emotions. Had you left your heart behind with Viktor?

You didn't hear the approaching footsteps. It wasn't until a gentle hand touched your shoulder that you realized you weren't alone. You looked up, hastily wiping at your eyes, to see Charlotte's kind face peering down at you.

"Oh, sweetheart," she sighed, as warm and comforting as a well-worn blanket.

You tried to smile, to put on a brave face, but your lips trembled traitorously. "I'm fine," you managed to croak out, sounding hollow even to your own ears. 

Charlotte's eyes, wise and knowing, saw right through your feeble attempt at deception. She lowered herself to the ground beside you, her movements slow and deliberate. "You know," she said, a hint of levity in her tone, "it's been a long time since I've had a daughter cry to me about a boy. You'd be making me feel young again if you'd indulge me."

Her words registered slowly, like honey dripping through your consciousness. Daughter. The word echoed in your mind, a simple yet profound revelation. It didn't matter if she had called you her daughter or simply a daughter; the significance remained the same. With a choked sob, you collapsed against her, burying your face in her shoulder.

Charlotte's arms enveloped you, strong and secure. The delicate scent of herbs and sunshine, of home and the sweetness of motherly love clung to her. Her hand stroked your back in calm circles as you cried, your tears soaking into the fabric of her dress.

"Let it all out, dear,” she soothed. “You're safe here."

And so you did. You poured out your soul to her, the words spilling from your lips in a jumbled rush. You told her about Viktor's fading magic and the burden it placed on his body, about his withholding the truth, and the fear and hurt that pecked at your insides like a hungry bird. You couldn’t lose him, not again. Charlotte listened, patient and understanding, and you were thankful for every second she gave you.

Once the tears had slowed and you’d fallen into silence, Charlotte gently pulled back, her hands on your shoulders. She studied your face, her eyes soft with understanding. "Now then," she said, "let's untangle this mess, shall we?"

You nodded, wiping your dripping nose on your sleeve. Charlotte produced a handkerchief from her pocket, embroidered with delicate flowers. You accepted it gratefully.

"First things first," Charlotte began, settling more comfortably on the ground. A breeze rustled through the stalks, carrying the earthy scent of tilled soil and ripening vegetables. "You're hurt because he didn't tell you his life-sustaining magic was finite, yes?"

You nodded, twisting the handkerchief in your hands. "He promised we'd face things together. How can we do that if he keeps hiding things from me?"

Charlotte hummed thoughtfully, her fingers absently plucking a nearby weed. "Men," she said, a wry smile tugging at her lips, "have a funny way of trying to protect us. They think by shouldering burdens alone, they're sparing us pain." She shook her head, chuckling softly. "Fools, the lot of them."

You laughed, a watery sound that loosened the knot in your chest.

"Now," Charlotte continued, growing more serious, "that doesn't excuse his actions. You have every right to be hurt and angry." She reached out, taking your hand in hers. Her skin was warm and weathered, a lifetime of hard work carved into every line and callus. "But ask yourself this: do you think he kept this from you out of malice? Or out of misguided love?"

You closed your eyes, picturing Viktor's face when you'd confronted him. The guilt, the sorrow, the desperate need to explain. "Love," you whispered, opening your eyes to meet Charlotte's knowing gaze.

Charlotte nodded, squeezing your hand. "There's your answer, then. He made a mistake, a big one, but his heart was in the right place."

You sighed, shoulders falling forward. "What if he keeps doing this, thinking it's for my own good? I’ve already asked him not to and yet here we are."

Charlotte was quiet for a moment, her eyes distant as she watched the stalks sway. "Trust is like a garden. It needs constant tending. Sometimes weeds spring up, and you have to pull them out by the roots. But if the soil is good, if there's love at the foundation, it can grow back stronger than ever."

You mulled over her words, plucking absently at a nearby weed. "So what do I do now?"

Charlotte smiled, the corners of her eyes crinkling. "You talk to him. You tell him how you’re feeling. And then you listen. Really listen. Not just to his words, but to what's behind them." She patted your hand. "And remember, it's okay to be angry. It's okay to need time. Healing isn't always quick or easy."

The path ahead wasn't clear, but at least now you had a direction. "Thank you," you breathed, leaning in to hug Charlotte tightly.

She returned the embrace with a soft pat on your back. "Anytime, Mila. That's what mothers are for."

As you pulled away, you bit your lip. "Charlotte," you began hesitantly, "you called me ‘a daughter’ earlier. Did you mean that like in general, or more specifically?"

You weren’t sure that you could have asked more awkwardly than that.

A tender smile played on her lips. "Family isn't just blood, you know. It's the people who stand by you, who love you even when you're at your worst." She cupped your cheek gently. "And you, my dear, have become as much a daughter to me as if I'd borne you myself."

Hot tears welled up in your eyes again, but this time they were tears of pure joy. Unable to contain yourself, you threw your arms around Charlotte once more in a crushing hug. "Thank you," you sniffled, "I've missed having a mother."

Charlotte petted your hair, humming softly. "Well, you have one now. And I'm not going anywhere."

You stayed like that for a long moment, and when you finally pulled away, you felt steadier, more grounded. The hurt was still there, a dull ache in your chest, but it no longer rose up your throat like bile.

"I should go talk to Viktor," you said, rising to your feet and brushing dirt from your clothes.

Charlotte nodded, accepting your offered hand to help her up. "Remember," she said, giving you a final squeeze, "love isn't about never making mistakes. It's about how you handle them when they happen."

You smiled, feeling a surge of affection for this wise, kind woman. "I'll remember," you promised.

And you did.

You found Viktor in your shared room, halting his pacing mid-stride when you crossed the threshold, his doleful eyes locking onto yours. His hair was dishevelled, as if he’d been running his fingers through it repeatedly.

“I wanted to say—”

“Milá, it wasn’t my—”

You both spoke at the same time, stopping abruptly when you registered it. A rueful smile tugged at your lips despite the heaviness in your chest.

"You go first," you said quickly.

Viktor shook his head. "No, you. I insist."

With a deep sigh, you moved further into the room, stopping a few feet away from him - even as you longed to close the distance. Your hands clasped behind your back, fingers twisting nervously.

"I'm hurt," you began, your voice soft but steady. "I'm hurt that you didn't share this with me."

Viktor’s face twisted into a grimace, his eyes clouding with guilt. You pressed on, determined to say your piece.

"But I know you didn't do it to be cruel. You were trying to protect me." You paused, gathering your thoughts. "I understand that impulse, I know I’ve done it before, and I don’t fully know why this instance has affected me so much. Maybe I’m just tired of it, or maybe every time your mortality is in question I’m brought back to the same place I was for seven years; wondering if I won’t be enough to keep you alive. And I can’t even imagine how this must feel for you, it's your life and your body and it all just makes me so angry that you have to carry this, but I wish you would see that you don’t have to do it alone. We’ve fought so hard and it's so unfair and I can’t lose you again, Viktor, I won’t.”

You sucked in a shuddering breath, pinching the bridge of your nose to keep the tears at bay. To Viktor’s credit, he gave you space, waiting patiently for you to compose yourself.

Exhaling through your nose, you tucked your clenched fists into your pockets. “We're together. In everything. That means sharing the burdens, the fears, the ugly truths. Even when it's hard. Especially when it's hard."

Viktor nodded solemnly, his gaze never leaving your face. "I'm sorry, miláčku" he whispered, guttural with remorse. "It was not my intention to cause you distress, in fact, it was quite the opposite. But I recognize that it was the result all the same. If you are open to hearing it, I would appreciate the opportunity to explain further, as I have had time to reflect.”

You unclenched your hands, letting them fall to your sides. “Go ahead.”

With a deep, heavy sigh, Viktor began, “I am aware that you do not expect me to heal you as I have the others, but I find myself struggling with my lack of ability. It has always been my greatest desire to provide help and support for those who have no one else to turn to, and it has been difficult for me to let go of this when it comes to you. Without realizing it, I transferred this…need to heal into a need to protect - even from things that you did not wish to be protected from. I only wanted to minimize the harm done to you, as you have suffered enough, more than anyone should. But I now see that this was not the correct path, and I apologize that I betrayed your trust in this matter.”

He took a tentative step toward you, his hand outstretched but not quite touching. "Do you think that in time, you could forgive me?" he asked.

You studied him, taking in the dark circles under his eyes, the tension in his jaw, the subtle tremble of his fingers. This was the man you loved, every flaw and vice. He’d stood by you through countless struggles, had held you as you came down from your nightmares, whispering soothing words in the dark. He had brought you back from the brink of death, sacrificing himself in the process, and had cared for you when you’d been so lost in your own mind that you hadn’t been able to care for yourself.

"I'd be a bit of a hypocrite if I didn't," you said with a wry grin. "We've both made mistakes. What matters is that we learn from them, right?"

Relief washed over Viktor's face, his tense features softening with gratitude. Without hesitation, he closed the distance between you, his hand cupping your cheek with infinite tenderness, and you leaned into his touch.

"Thank you, lásko," he breathed, low and reverent.

You tilted your chin up, meeting his gaze. Viktor's eyes flicked to your lips, a question in their depths. You answered by pressing forward and slanting your mouth across his in a soft, sweet kiss.

Viktor's lips were warm and pliant against yours, tasting faintly of mint and honey. His hand slid from your cheek to tangle in your hair, cradling the back of your head. You gripped his robes, feeling the soft fabric beneath your fingers, anchoring yourself as the world spun around you.

As you finally pulled back, your chest heaving and your cheeks flushed, you opened your eyes - only to be met with a shock. Where Viktor's handsome face should have been, there was now a cold, unfeeling metal mask. It stretched from his forehead - two horn-like protrusions on either side - to just below his jawline. A thin metal bar ran down the center, dividing his face into two halves that lay still and undisturbed in their slumber.

With a startled gasp, you jumped out of Viktor's embrace. You blinked rapidly at the floor, willing the hallucination to disappear. When you dared to look up again, Viktor as you knew him had returned, the metal mask vanishing as quickly as it had appeared.

"Milá?" Viktor's brow scrunched with worry, his hand hovering uncertainly between you. "Are you alright?"

You swallowed hard, trying to calm your racing pulse. "I'm fine," you managed, your voice slightly shaky. "Just…another hallucination, I think."

Viktor took a cautious step toward you, moving slowly as if approaching a spooked animal - it felt mildly accurate so you remained uninsulated. "What did you see?"

You hesitated, unsure how to describe the unsettling vision. "It's that same metal mask I saw before.” You searched Viktor's face for any hint of recognition and he nodded his understanding - though you found nothing deeper. "It covered your whole face, with a bar across your forehead and down the middle. And on either side, it looked like…like your face was sleeping? I don’t know, but I got a better look this time."

Viktor's eyes widened slightly, a flicker of something - surprise? fear? - passing over his features before he schooled his expression back to neutrality. "That sounds…disconcerting," he said.

You nodded, rubbing your arms. “At least they aren’t as frequent as before I got control of myself. I can handle a few jump scares here and there.” You laughed nervously, giving him a tentative grin.

“You’re sure that they are simply hallucinations?” Viktor asked, eyes narrowed in thought.

You frowned, considering Viktor's question. The hallucinations had become such a part of your life that you'd almost stopped questioning them. But now, faced with Viktor's probing gaze, you found yourself re-examining your experiences.

"I thought they were," you said slowly even as your mind raced with the implications. "They've always felt so seamless, you know? Like reality just shifted for a second." You gestured vaguely, trying to put the feeling into words. "Not like before the attack on the council, when I'd feel myself being pulled away. Now it snaps back to normal so quickly I can almost convince myself it never happened."

Viktor paced a few steps, his long fingers steepled beneath his chin. "Have you noticed any patterns?" he asked. "Any commonalities?"

You chewed your lip, your gaze drifting to the potted plant on the windowsill. "Maybe? It seems to happen most with you and the other members of the commune, but it's not like I’ve spent much time around anyone else," you ventured, uncertainty colouring your tone. "I don't know though. I try not to think about them, but maybe I should."

"It's okay," he said, reaching out to take your hand. "These glimpses can be difficult to pin down. But I think it might be worthwhile to pay closer attention in the future. Perhaps keeping a journal would help?"

You considered his suggestion, absently tracing patterns on the back of his hand with your thumb. The idea of cataloging your hallucinations was both intriguing and slightly terrifying. What if you found something you didn't want to know? But it would be better to be prepared.

"You're right," you said finally, meeting Viktor's gaze. "I'll give it a try. It can’t hurt."

The pride that radiated from him was enough to reinforce your decision. While nervousness and unease may prick at your neck, when Viktor looked at you like you hung the moon and the stars and everything in between, you found yourself unable to be afraid.

The warm rays of the afternoon sun were making their slow descent as you meandered through the commune. Before attempting to write down any of your observations on your hallucinations, you needed to organize your thoughts - and what better way to do that than to get fresh air and take a stroll?

As you rounded a corner, lost in contemplation, you collided with something unexpectedly solid.

"Oof!" came a startled yelp as you both stumbled backward.

When you caught yourself, narrowly avoiding falling on our ass, you found yourself face-to-face with Jinx, her electric blue braids askew from the impact.

"Oh, sorry!" you exclaimed. "Didn't see you there.” At a loss for anything else to say, you went with, “I believe Vander’s still in the greenhouse if you're looking for him."

“Of course he is.” Jinx rolled her eyes, dusting off her pin-stripped pants. “He won’t stop picking the flowers and givin’ ‘em to me.”

A smile tugged at your lips, warmth tingling in your chest at the thought of Vander's sweet gesture. "Aww, that's so-"

"Ugh, not you too," Jinx groaned, throwing her hands up dramatically. "It's not cute, it's annoying. Do you know how many flower crowns I've had to wear this week? My head looks like a walking garden!"

You couldn't help but giggle at her exasperation, picturing Jinx adorned with a rainbow of flowers. The image was both endearing and slightly ridiculous. Hadn’t she blown up the council just a few weeks ago?

Jinx shuffled her feet, her eyes darting around as if searching for an escape route. "Well, anyway," she said, her voice pitched slightly higher than normal, "wouldn't want to keep you from your Machine Herald’s loving arms, so I’d best be off."

The words hit you like a bucket of ice water poured over your head. You stared at Jinx, your mouth hanging open in shock. "What…” you swallowed thickly, “what did you just say?"

"What?”

“You called Viktor the Machine Herald.”

“Well, yeah.” She played with the end of her braid, a nervous gesture that you had noticed in your limited interactions. “Everyone calls him the Herald, and he's part machine, isn't he? So, Machine Herald." She shrugged as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Your vision from Progress Day - it had only been months, but it felt like years - that man with the large metal armour, his face behind a mask with glowing yellow eyes, came to the forefront of your mind. His shaggy, dark brown hair reminded you distinctly of Viktor’s, but outside of that, they bore little resemblance. Unless…the arm on his back, a laser at the centre, you’d seen one just like it; it looked identical to the one that Viktor had invented for Piltover’s artificers.

No, it couldn’t be.

But your vision had supplied his name: The Machine Herald. With your hallucinations - could you even call them that anymore? - there were too many similarities to ignore your unease.

Shaking your head, you said in a rush, “I have to go.”

“Uh, see you later then!” You heard Jinx call after you, but you were already moving.

The world around you blurred, colours and shapes melting together as your feet carried you forward on autopilot, weaving through the commune's winding paths without conscious thought.

The Machine Herald. Viktor. The two names clashed in your mind like cymbals, sending shockwaves through your soul. How could they be one and the same? The Viktor you knew was kind, compassionate, driven by a desire to help others. The Machine Herald from your vision had been cold, ruthless, more machine than man as he stood amongst the rubble, ready to fight.

Your mind raced, piecing together fragments of memory, frantic in your approach. Viktor's fascination with technology, his tireless work to improve the lives of those around him. The gleam in his eyes when he spoke of progress, of pushing the boundaries of what was possible. Had that passion twisted into something darker in your vision of the future?

You thought of the metal arm you'd seen and the one that Viktor had created; the Hex Claw, he’d called it. The Machine Herald’s was so similar to Viktor's in design - attached to their backs, a high-powered light or laser at the palm, and three pincers - yet weaponized, turned from an instrument of creation to one of destruction. How many steps separated the two? How fine was the line between innovation and devastation?

A butterfly fluttered past, its delicate wings a vibrant blue against the pale sky. You watched it dance on the breeze, soaking in its fragile beauty. Was this how Viktor saw the world? As something delicate, in need of protection and improvement? Would that view somehow warp?

You knew, deep in your bones, that the Machine Herald was a figure to be wary of. But why? What had you seen in that fleeting vision that filled you with such dread? Try as you might, you couldn't recall any specific actions, only the overwhelming sense of wrongness that had permeated the air around him.

You took a deep breath, centring yourself. There was only one way forward: you had to talk to Viktor. Maybe, if you worked it out together, you could find a way to stop him from falling down that slippery slope.

It was then that it hit you, like a slimy snake slithering over the back of your neck, its tongue flickering against the shell of your ear; that feeling of imminent danger, of death, of being watched, had returned. You’d thought it was gone when you’d tucked away your magic, a by-product of your hallucinations that wasn’t real. You were safe here, this was your home, but as you shuddered, that snake - that foreboding feeling - wrapped itself around your spine and squeezed.

Something was very, very wrong - and your magic had been trying to warn you. You hadn’t listened.

You needed to find Viktor, now.

It took no more than a split second for you to turn, pulling your magic from the sparks as you did so, facing towards the orb-like building - towards your room, your safe place where you and Viktor had spent countless nights curled up together - just in time to see someone disappearing into the building.

The man's dirty white coat flapped in the breeze, and in his hand, he clutched an unnatural-looking hammer, held up by his broad shoulders and muscular arms. Your heart skipped a beat. Surely that couldn't be who you thought it was? At that distance, it was impossible to tell.

Dread filled your lungs, a thick and suffocating fog. You broke out into a sprint, each step fueled by your magic and pushing you to inhuman speeds. But you were halfway across the compound, and you wasted precious seconds in your panic. 

You reached the building, but it was too late. 

Before you could catch a glimpse inside, a deafening boom reverberated through the ground as the top of the building erupted in a violent explosion - shattered like a bullet through a skull. The force of the blast slammed into you, lifting you off your feet and hurling you backward with an alarming velocity.

You landed hard on your back, the breath knocked from your lungs, but adrenaline surged, and though your head pounded, you scrambled to your feet. Your ears rang with a high-pitched whine and white-hot panic rattled your bones.

Viktor was in there.

Ignoring the protests of your bruised body, you burst through the entryway, your heart beating a frantic rhythm against your ribs.

Please, if any gods are listening, I am begging you to let Viktor be okay. I will do anything you ask, just let him live.

You stopped short, your panicked gaze pulled to the man heaving for breath before you.

“Jayce?” Up close, you’d recognize that jacket anywhere, stretched across his wide shoulders, metal embellishments upon stark white fabric. Or rather, dirt-covered, off-white fabric, torn at the hems. His hammer had changed and become…warped by the arcane, you could feel the wild magical energy pulsating off the device like it had a heartbeat of its own. 

Chest heaving with stilted breath, he turned towards you, hammer pointed at your chest. Teeth barred in a snarl, lips scarred and dry, eyes darting over you, searching and seeking. For what, you didn’t know. He planted his feet, your gaze catching on the brace that held his left leg, the shaggy length of his hair, the beard and the grime that covered his face. 

He was your friend, Viktor’s friend, he’d never hurt you. But the explosion, you’d felt it beneath your feet, had seen the shards of the dome crack and float in the air like broken bones suspended in time. 

“What…” A whisper, a tendril of wind curled beneath your chin, serene and tranquil, pulling your gaze away from your friend - weapon aimed at your chest, gritting his teeth, shoulders tense as he ducked his head - and towards the figure laying crumpled on the floor. 

All sound cut out, replaced by a ringing silence. Your lungs emptied of oxygen, and you weren’t sure if you’d ever taken a breath before in your life, you no longer knew how. A chill spread through your heavy limbs, accompanied by the sharp prickling of pins and needles. Your vision swam, your feet tripping over each other as you struggled to maintain balance. Distantly, you registered a dome of blue energy forming around Jayce, and his agitation as he pounded against the barrier, yelling warnings you couldn’t hear. 

“No, no, no,” you breathed as your lungs expanded against your will, ragged and wheezing. 

It couldn’t be him, not after everything you’d been through, everything you’d survived together. 

And yet there Viktor was, lying slumped against the wall, eyes fluttering as the hole in his chest sparked and spluttered with each laboured inhale. 

Your feet felt like lead and you fell to your knees beside him, ignoring the sharp pain as your bones collided with the hard floor. Your hands shook so uncontrollably that you almost couldn’t move him to cradle his head into your lap.

A gear fell from his palm, rolling away, and he smiled weakly at you but you didn’t miss the fear that stopped it from reaching his eyes. Your chin wobbled, a barely contained sob stretching your ribcage, feeling like it may crack.

“Viktor, please,” you begged, “you promised.” You bite your lip, tears streaming down your cheeks. “You promised you wouldn’t leave me. We’re supposed to do this together.” 

He coughed once, lacking any real force. He couldn’t clear a gaping hole from his chest. “I’m…” his breath rattled once as he inhaled, he reached up and his arm trembled with the effort. He tapped your chest once, over your heart, arm falling back to his side. “Here. Always.” 

He went still, peaceful, almost as if he was asleep, but his eyes remained open, devoid of any light, and his chest did not move with breath. Your hand fluttered over his face, shaking along with your body. 

“No,” you sobbed, breaking over the vowel, hot tears falling onto his lifeless face, serene and beautiful, even in death. Not like this, not again. “Please, don’t go, please, Viktor, I need you, I need you, please.”

Your head snapped up, weeping around scattered breaths as you focused on the man responsible for this. His jaw hung slack, hammer dangling limply at his side. The barrier flickered and spat.

"Give him back!" you screamed, voice raw and cracking. "Bring him back, Jayce! You did this, now fix it!"

But no amount of begging would revive him. You could plead and pray to the Gods themselves but they wouldn’t not answer your call. What had been done could not be undone. Jayce didn’t need to respond, you already knew. 

Beneath your hands, Viktor’s life spark extinguished, and your heart crumbled to ash and dust. 

A blood-curdling, keening wail rent itself from your throat, primal and filled with anguish. You cried your grief into a world that didn’t care, curling into his body, holding him tight against you like you could hold onto him for just a little longer, stretch your last seconds with him. But time was not your friend, and it kept moving, without Viktor. 

You screamed and you cried and something inside your chest snapped. Years ago, when you’d learned what a Motus Mage could do, you’d sworn that you would never fall into that trap. But then you’d fallen in love - had already been in love, if you were being honest with yourself, head over heels for that wonderful man. And he had been stolen from you, while your back was turned. By someone who had called himself a friend.

Why? 

Why did you let your guard down?

Why did Jayce do this?

Why did the world give you Viktor only to rip him from your side?

Why did Soraka say that you could save this world if the one you wanted to save it for wasn’t going to be a part of it?

You were a woman grieving the loss of her beloved, a daughter who’d found a mother and now sat on the precipice of losing her too, a friend who’d lost all who saw her that way - a mage whose vast wealth of power was tied to your emotions, and the strength of your loss, your sorrow and pain, shredded your restraints like fine paper. 

Your magic exploded from you like a supernova, raw power erupting from every pore. Your hair whipped wildly around your face, each strand crackling with arcane energy.

Time seemed to slow, the world around you grinding to a halt. Specks of dust hung suspended in the breeze, glittering like stars in the eerie stillness. Jayce’s fist, pounding against your barrier once more, froze mid-beat. Even the tears on your cheeks paused in their descent, tiny crystals of grief suspended in time.

For a heartbeat, everything was perfectly, impossibly still.

Then, with a sound like reality itself tearing apart, a blinding white light erupted from your body. It consumed everything - the room, Viktor's lifeless form, your own anguished face - until there was nothing left but pure, searing radiance.

You fell back, and there was only nothingness. Weightless, dark, nothingness.

Next Chapter

A/N: Please don’t hate me, I promise there is still gonna be a happy ending! The next chapter will be up tomorrow.

At least Viktor didn’t die before they resolved their fight…aha

You're welcome to yell at me in the comments or join the Discord server and yell at me there! (We also have art and general fun chats about arcane)

[mischievous-piltovan]

The Undying Oath (NSFW)

Chapter 3: It All Came Crumbling Down (SFW)

Pairing: Viktor x fem!Reader

Summary: As reader navigates her grief, she watches the rug being swept from under her. One after the other, the pillars holding together her life crumble, and she's forced to cling to her values and ideals, upholding Viktor's legacy.

A/N: This is more of a bridge chapter, connecting the setup of the two previous chapters to where I want to bring the story next. I hope you like it despite that. Happy New Year!!

Warnings: Major Character Death. Loss of a loved one. Angsty. War.

Word Count: 6.4K Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 (in progress) Also on AO3

The few seconds it took for Jayce's words to finally sink in felt like an eternity. The synapses in her brain fought hard to soften the blow, the mechanisms of grief starting to engage as soon as the message was received.

The only thing preventing her legs from giving out was the surge of guilt rapidly encapsulating her whole body. She did not deserve to rest.

It was all for nothing.

Her mind plagued her with images of Viktor in his final days, slowly decaying. Suffering not only from his ailments, but from the pain of betrayal from the only person he sought comfort from, as his condition started preventing him from the work he often escaped to. Those tired golden eyes piercing her in accusation as they slowly closed a final time.

She could only tell Jayce's approaching her once his hand reached her shoulder. Her eyes quickly went from his hand to his face, where he wore an apologetic expression.

"It's not your fault." He said as softly as he could. 

She couldn't respond. Her hanging mouth felt as dry as when she was in Shurima. Her gaze followed Viktor's statue body up to his face, the sharp corners adorning his jaw looked as pristine as they did the first time they met. He was beautiful.

Her beautiful fiancee whose thick accented voice she would never hear again.

That's when the grieving surpassed the guilt. She fell to her knees in a painful sob, her hand finding purchase on the statue before her. The tears rolling down her cheeks blurred her vision, but it didn't stop the flashing images of Viktor behind her eyes. She sobbed quietly, holding back her voice as much as she could - she shouldn't be allowed to grieve for the loss she bestowed upon herself.

Jayce kneeled beside her in silence for a moment, a hand gently placed on her back for comfort. But it wasn't long before he decided to leave her alone - he felt like she needed a moment by herself with Viktor.

As the tears started to subdued, she groggily sat beside the statue of Viktor hugging her knees together and resting her head on his feet. She spent the night in Jayce's office in a broken slumber, whispering apologies to the cold night air during the brief moments of consciousness.

She woke up the next day with Jayce's warm hand on her shoulder.

"Let's get you to your dorm," he spoke softly "You need some proper rest."

She didn't have the presence of mind to deny him, so she simply nodded before Jayce took her hand, gently bringing her to her feet and led her through the halls of the Academy.

Once they reached her door, he cooed her inside.

"I'll leave you to it, the Council needs me," he said. "I'll come by later so we can get you some food, okay? Rest well."

As soon as the door closed behind her, she was hit by a stale yet familiar scent - the scent of her life together with Viktor. The room was untouched, as if they had left it just this morning to work and she was coming back at the end of the day, the thin layer of dust covering every surface the only indication that time had passed. The bed was unmade, piles of books filled the shelves by the windows, there were some clothes discarded on the floor probably from the last time one of them jumped in bed after a long day and couldn't bother throwing them into the hamper. 

A renewed wave of misery crashed onto her at the sight, she forced herself to stand her ground and not collapse onto the floor again. She walked around slowly, taking in every little detail, not daring to touch anything, as if preserving the scene could somehow bring her back to that old life from two years ago.

She stopped at Viktor's desk upon noticing his journal opened up on his last entry. She felt conflicted, there was a part of her that desperately wanted to read his journal in a feeble attempt to feel close to him again and she almost gave in to the urge, but the guilt held her in place - was she even allowed to pry into his personal notes after everything she did?

She took a deep breath. This journal was Viktor's last words, his final message to the world - there could be his will or dying wishes written in there, he was a very meticulous man after all. He deserved at least to be heard a final time. The girl sat down on his chair, pulling the journal closer to her.

"I am afraid I might be living the twilight of my life and I'll soon be headed to that good night.

Despite working tirelessly to find a way to prolong my days, to cure this wretched ailment that fell upon me, I still can't see even a glimpse of a solution in the horizon.

And this growing decay inside me doesn't seem to want to stop anytime soon, expanding the distance between us in this morbid race I've been forced into.

The only thing keeping me sane is the light and warmth of my hearthfire that is [Y/n]. The possibility of a future where we get to grow old together side by side keeps the darkness at bay. I'm sure I'll find a way to get there.”

She hastily closed the journal back to save the pages from getting stained as the tears began falling copiously down her face again. Her knees gave out and she fell down, holding her torso up by the edge of the desk.

The tears turned to sobbing and then to wailing. In the uncanny familiarity of their bedroom, she finally allowed herself to grieve.

As the tears started to subside, she felt the weight of exhaustion pull her down. It hit her that she hadn't had a proper night of sleep on a bed ever since she left on her expedition. For a moment, the lethargy she felt paired up with the self-loathing festering inside of her had her considering curling down on the floor where she knelt and sleeping right there, but something tugged at her.

She felt a warm gentle humming radiating from her left arm, traversing its extent in waves. She quickly pulled back the sleeve of her coat and saw the golden veins on her marbled new arm faintly glowing. The sensation was gone as quickly as it came, the luminescent golden quality of the appendage dying down. and she realized she didn't feel as tired as before.

Her new magic came to her aid.

She chuckled dryly. “You would  have loved this, Vik. A way to prolong your working hours without any chemical additives.”

She pulled the sleeve back down, standing up. Shedding the garments from the trip unceremoniously, she opted for a pair of sweats and a shirt whose sleeves fully covered the new arm. There was too much weighting at her mind at the moment, unpacking the stuff she went through with anyone just wasn't on the docket.

As the second wind her arm provided her died down, she grabbed Viktor’s journal from his desk and hopped onto bed. She fell asleep holding the journal tight against her body, lulled by the faint scent of him that still lingered onto the unmade bed.

The next five days happened in a daze. She laid in bed for hours, unable to leave, with energy to only to switch between silently crying, sobbing or sleeping. Jayce would come when he could, bringing her food and consoling her for as much time as he was able to spare. She was grateful for him, but would often leave a lot of what he brought untouched - she felt chronically nauseated. 

On the sixth day, Jayce found her sitting up on the bed. 

She was unkept, drained, yet there was a glint of something else behind her eyes. Something different from the ruined state she had been in. The sides of her mouth even curled up in a forced half-smile when she noticed the man.

“Good morning,” he muttered gently, placing the tray of food on the desk. “How are you feeling?”

“Not good,” she answered, looking down. “But a bit better than before.”

“Good to hear,” Jayce responded, sitting on the edge of the bed with her.

“I need to leave this room and do something,” she muttered, turning to the window. “Occupy myself a bit.”

“I think that’s a wonderful ideal,” Jayce said, reaching for one of her hands. She flinched for a second, avoiding his contact at first. But then quickly relaxed right after, offering her right hand out to him. He took it in earnest.

 “They say that's good for the grieving process.”

“Yeah, it wouldn't be fair to Viktor’s memory either,” she chuckled. “I wonder what he'd say if he saw me like that.”

It was Jayce’s turn to chuckle. “I think he'd understand.”

“I might head back to the UDS, the Undercity model definitely needs to be updated after two years.”

Jayce didn't respond. How odd.

She searched his face and saw apprehension, his eyes fixated on a corner of the room.

Finally, with a deep breath, he met her gaze.

“The UDS has been dismantled.”

A couple of seconds passed before his words fully sank in.

“What?”

“With the growing conflict with the Undercity, priorities shifted,” he explained. “It didn't make sense to allocate funds to it any longer.”

Yet another pillar of her life tumbling down in front of her. All the work she's done over the past decade was discarded on a whim.

How Piltovan of them.

“That's my life's work, Jayce,” she barked, yanking her hand away from his grasp. “What about all my documents? My blueprints? My model? Was it all just discarded?”

He paused again. 

“No,” he responded apprehensively. “Look, I tried arguing against it…”

She narrowed her eyes at him.

“Jayce…”

“You have to understand the circumstances, everything changed after the Council was bombed…,” he trailed off.

“Spit it out, Jayce!”

He swallowed dryly before speaking. “Everything that was in the UDS room is being used in the effort against the Undercity, including your model.” 

“WHAT?” She almost jumped out of the bed. “With whose authorization? This is absolutely preposterous, I can't –”

She fought to find the words. Pressure started to build beneath her skin as an onslaught of thoughts plagued her mind, one more preposterous than the other. She could feel her jaw clenching,  her breathing getting labored.

Her marbled arm getting warmer.

“Everything I mapped and cataloged about the Undercity was to help them, to better their lives,” she said between her teeth. “Not to brutalize them.”

“I know, but the intel the UDS could provide was detrimental to the conflict effort. The Council voted for it almost unanimously,” Jayce tried justifying. “There was nothing I could do.”

Likely story.

She scoffed. “And what would the Council have me do then? Escapading through the Lanes to gather more intel for their war effort? Because you know I won't do it.”

“No… 

Jayce paused, taking a deep breath.

“With me out of the Lab and Viktor gone, you are the only one left with decent knowledge to continue developing projects on HexTech…”

She glared at him.

“What are you suggesting?”

Jayce swallowed dryly once more, unenthusiastically meeting her gaze. And with the same lack of intention, as if he couldn't believe his next words himself, he blurted out.

“They want you to develop HexTech weapons.”

Jayce's words brought their exchange to a standstill. With knitted brows, he waited for her response, trying to gauge her reaction from her countenance. All the while, she waited for his next words. Because there needed to be next words.

Because the nature of this proposition was so absurd, Jayce couldn't be serious.

“No.”

“(Y/N)-,” Jayce tried arguing, but she abruptly cut him off.

“I won't do it, that's final,” then pressure bubbled back up, each word pronounced like a punch. “Honestly, I feel offended you even considered bringing this to me.”

Jayce huffed. “You think I don't understand how this sounds? I don't like the idea either, but the conflict with the Undercity has been escalating to a degree that's getting out of hand.”

“Oh, so the solution is to bomb them with HexTech explosives? To litter their underground with HexTech mines?”

“We need the upper hand to put an end to the conflict!” It was Jayce’s turn to get worked up. “It would issue their rendition and we would be sparing lives!”

“We would be taking lives!” The swell of ire poisoned her words, building them into a vile crescendo. “To paint it as a panacea to the conflict is wishful thinking at best.”

“It is not ideal, but we’re far past the peaceful negotiations phase,” he retorted. “You would know that if you were here in the past two years.”

Jayce had a terrible habit to resort to petty comebacks whenever a discussion wasn't going his way. She saw it happen more times than she wished to whenever he and Viktor got stuck working on particular complex projects for far too long and exhaustion made everyone cranky. 

Right now, dealing with the socio-political calamity at hand was clearly turning him into the worst version of said Jayce. And, like she did in the past, there was a world in which she'd brush it off and simply reel the conversation back to the topic at hand. To douse the flames so as not to get them both burned.

This was not such a world.

In the next second, she violently got up, lifting a finger at Jayce. “I will NEVER willingly participate in the genocide of my husband's people!”

Jayce did the same, barreling towards her, shoving a finger to her face. “He WASN’T your husband. You LEFT HIM at the altar to DIE!”

That was the last straw.

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

Jayce had realized he went too far the moment he noticed the tight knot in her brows and the lack of glimmer in her eyes, a blend of hurt and rage. He’d apologize, said he didn't mean it and the words that came out of him were mere fruits of the spur of the moment.

But it was the last pillar holding up the home she built in Piltover. And it came crashing down before her eyes, the falling rubble sending debris all around her. And as the dust settled down, she saw the only possible way forward.

Or downward.

She started packing as soon as Jayce left her room, sliding a large over-the-shoulder bag from under the bed. She made quick work of stuffing some clothes, her journal, and some other light equipment. She finished up by carefully placing Viktor's journal atop her belongings, slotted between some fabrics for safekeeping.

She put her coat on, pulled the hood over her head, slinged the bag over her shoulders and sneaked out of Academy.

And she was suddenly back to when she was a kid.

The divide between Topside and the Undercity seems abrupt at first glance. A clean cut, where one could easily pinpoint where one ended and the other started.

However, someone from The Fringes knows that there are a lot more shades of gray in this black-and-white picture Topsiders like to paint.

Much like the intricacies of the socioeconomic relations of the sister cities, exist capillary breaches connecting them. Crevices invisible to the eyes of Piltovans, that in their hubris, never made an effort to look into. Alleyways a little wider than a foot that always remained unpatrolled by enforcers before the conflict and that she was sure wouldn't be patrolled now.

From checkpoint to checkpoint, she slipped between those cracks until there were no more blue uniforms in sight. 

Truth be told, the Enforcers were much more worried about preventing trenchers from moving up than making sure no topsider was sneaking into the Undercity.

She stopped sneaking once the familiar smell of stale urbanity air hit her nostrils. The streets were eerily quiet, much different from the neon-bathed everlasting nightlife she was used to - if it wasn't for the humming of machinery or the eventual person walking hastily by her, she'd assume it was a ghost town.

Apprehension took hold. She wasn’t sure exactly where to go, just hoped she'd stumble upon a friendly face at some point. Maybe people who’d recognize the Architect from all the on-site data gathering she used to do as part of the UDS. Maybe even someone who'd remember her walking around with Viktor.

Pain rose from her chest at the memory. 

In the new relative calmness devoid of the fear of being perceived, her mind raced. There was a cacophony of emotions roaring inside her, sadness that her place in the academy was no more, grief from the very recent loss of her fianceé, guilt from breaking her promise and leaving Viktor to die alone.

But on top of it all was rage. Pure molten ire for Piltover taking over her life's work, which she toiled over for years on an underfunded (due to pure disinterest of topside on the matter) section of the academy, and twisting it, completely stripping it of its original purpose, perverting it at its core. 

And Jayce, of all people, not vetoing it? 

She fumed, clenching her jaw as she made her way forward. Her marbled arm tingled erratically every time a new painful memory resurfaced, but she was far too engulfed in her righteous wrath to take notice of that.

Or of the quickly approaching footsteps from behind.

In an instant, she felt the loss of the weight of her bag as someone swiftly took it off of her shoulder. The figure then held her bag tight against them, never faltering in their stride. It took her a second to snap back from the astonishment before dashing behind the thief.

She ran as fast as she could, not worried with her clothes, her equipment or any of her belongings inside her bag - only Viktor’s journal. But as the chase continued, her lungs burned, not used to the thick, polluted air of the Lanes anymore. Soon, every fiber of her body started screaming for her to stop, her legs started faltering and she watched as the distance between her and the thief grew.

She was going to lose the very last piece of him she had. Have it mercilessly snatched away from her grasp. And again, she was gonna be unable to prevent it.

The very thought made her sick, like a humming uneasiness in the pit of her stomach. And it quickly expanded, hot and incandescent, every cell inside her igniting in a chain-reaction until it engulfed her in a golden inferno.

Her marbled arm flew forward on instinct, the veins glowing an intense golden hue. With a scream, as if all the pressure that had been building up exploded, a burst of energy went flying from her outstretched palm, hitting the thief squarely in the back.They fell on the floor, rolling around from momentum, before stopping. 

She stopped at their prone body, falling to her knees as she tried to catch her breath. Gazing down down at her marbled arm, she notoced the vein’s glow was already dimming. As soon as her breathing normalized and the nausea from exertion subsided, she grabbed her bag back and slung it across her torso.

She got up and was about to leave the scene, but something told her not to. She glanced back at the thief's form, still prone on the floor. Worry nagged at her, she had no idea what had just transpired and how whatever that was could've affected the thief outside of stopping them in their tracks. 

She took a deep breath before kneeling back down beside the thief and turning them on their back. She was met with his eyes, wide and scared, frantically looking at her. The rest of his body was completely still. Whatever she's done, seemed to have paralyzed him. Locked him in his own body.

She panicked. The thief, a man probably in his early 20's, didn't deserve this fate. Glancing over her marbled arm, she wondered if she could somehow reverse it. She was supposed to be a healer mage now, right? She did it before, sort of. 

Taking another deep breath, she placed her marbled palm on his chest. With her eyes closed, she tried to envision him running earlier, tried to perceive her own guilt for his fate, tried to beg the Cosmos, the Immortal Flame that made her its Aspect, to heal the man and grant him back his movement.

And then she started feeling a warmth blossoming in her gut, slowly travelling through her body up until her marbled palm. She opened her eyes and watched as the golden veins on her arm glowed, bathing her and the man in a cozy warm light. As soon as the light subsided, the thief gasped, quickly sitting up and scooting backwards.

“It's ok-,” she faltered, being suddenly overtaken by vertigo. Whatever healing she did paired with the chase seemed to have taken its toll, rendering her unable to continue. Her body stumbled forward, heavy with exhaustion. She barely had the presence of mind to catch herself with both palms to the floor.

From her peripheral vision, other figures started approaching the scene.

She heard their conversations.

“Be careful, she's a mage.”

“Go check if Nadir is OK, I'll deal with her.”

“Look at her clothes, she's a Piltie.”

“Quick, grab her stuff before she's back up again.”

Don't . But the words wouldn't come out. The figures kept closing in. She held her bag with as much force as she could muster, but her arms felt amorphous. There was no defending the bag anymore.

“Wait! Don't harm her! That's (Y/N)!”

A familiar voice rang from a figure further back. She looked up from her curled state on the floor, spots dancing in her vision with the motion.

“Ralph-,” was all she could muster before passing out.

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

The next time she opened her eyes, she was on a bed. The ceiling above was wooden, planks held together by bolted steel. 

“Ah, you're awake.”

She quickly sat up trying to find the source of the voice. On a chair on the far end of the room sat a tall, lean man with light brown hair. 

“Ralph?”

He beamed at her, dimples forming at the sides of his mouth. The same smile that would grace her all those years ago, when she was still just a kid of The Fringes. The first in command of the little band of misfits that she called her friends.

The man that used to have her heart.

“I really wasn’t expecting to see you down here,’ he said. “I'm sorry about the debacle the boys put you through, they didn't know.”

Memories of the chase came back at his words.

“My bag!” She frantically looked around. “Where's my bag!?”

“Woah, woah. Easy there!” Ralph cooed, motioning with his hands in an attempt to calm her down. “It's right there, on the floor next to the bed.”

She sighed in relief upon looking down and spotting the leather bag with gold and white accents she brought from Piltover.

Ralph chuckled. “So, how are you feeling?”

She lightly shook her head with a sneer. Such a mundane question felt almost comical at this point. She exhaled before responding. “A bit tired, but nothing to write home about…”

“Glad to hear it,” there was a shift in his eyes, as if a mask fell off. “Now, can you tell me exactly what you are doing back here in the Lanes?”

She frowned. “Why's that important? It's me Ralph, the Undercity is basically my home.”

Ralph leaned over, a more serious expression adorning his features. “You have to understand, (Y/N), the Undercity and the Topside are basically at war. It is very suspicious to have a Piltie wandering around the neighborhood.”

“I'm not a Piltie!” She scoffed, clearly offended. “You fancy me a spy or something?”

“Not me, I know who you are,” he continued. “But the others don't. And I need a good explanation to give them about someone from up there just happening to be here, especially with the little trick you pulled on poor Nadir.”

She grimaced as worry tugged at her. 

“The one who took my bag,” she whispered. “Is he ok?”

“He's fine, just a little shaken. He'll live.”

She sighed in relief. Ralph kept eyeing her, suspicion still heavy on the pinch of his brow.

“Let's start with that,” he continued. “Was that some new fancy weapon Piltover developed for us?”

She blinked in bewilderment. “Of course not! Why would you think I'd be the one to contraband Piltovan weapons to use on Zaunites?”

Ralph didn't answer. Instead he studied her face, seemingly checking if it betrayed her words.

“Then what was it? Nadir said that he couldn't move after you shot him. And that somehow you undid it with your hands.”

She exhaled, looking down at her hands. At this angle, one could assume her marbled appendage was but a glove or some form of accessory, and not her actual limb. 

Would it be wise to lay everything out to Ralph? That she was essentially a mage now, something unusual enough to be anyone's guess what kind of reaction the Zaunites would have?

On the other hand, what would omitting her newfound abilities really do? Was this sort of preservation even necessary at this point? She didn't have anywhere to go, no reputation to uphold, no legacy to keep. 

Maybe this new identity might put a bigger target on her back. But could also be the key to open new doors on her path.

She was willing to take the risk.

“There's a lot I need to tell. Bear with me.”

She told Ralph about Viktor. How she indeed became romantically involved with him. How his health drastically declined during the last years of their relationship. About her research on mages and the subsequent quest that it led her to.

Ralph listened patiently without a word, his expression unreadable.

“I ended up in Targon and, although I couldn't bring a mage back with me,” she pulled her sleeve up, fully revealing the marbled arm. “I brought back a neat souvenir.”

With a knitted brow, Ralph got up from his seat, carefully getting closer to her. His eyes locked on her arm.

“What is that?”

“An arm,” she said matter-of-factly. “That's also a conduit for magic.”

She offered her arm up towards him. He studied it, carefully touching her marbled forearm with sheer curiosity, her words gradually sinking in.

“You became a mage?”

“Yes. Well, technically a host for an Aspect,” she replied. “Supposedly, I can heal people now.”

“Were you able to heal Viktor?”

The tightness in her chest returned. Guilt tore her insides, like a knife between her ribs. She swallowed back a lump forming in her throat before speaking.

“When I got back, he was already gone.”

His eyes shot up from her arm, acknowledging her words. 

“I'm so sorry to hear that.”

Ralph let go of her arm, sitting beside her on the bed. He shed whatever guarded facade he was putting up until now, instead wearing a familiar soft expression. She found comfort in that.

Enough to break her own facade down as tears began rolling down her face.

Ralph wrapped his arms around her at the sight, pulling her into his chest. The gentleness of the act paired with nostalgic familiarity that was him made her feel unusually safe. And she let go, the tears crashing down like a downpour, staining his shirt in its wake. She sobbed as he soothed her, gently running his fingers through her hair.

She felt so weak, as thin as paper. Coming undone on a moment’s notice. A house that wasn't a home, with no beans, pillars or columns - standing on its walls alone. The whole of it coming down on the slightest of breezes.

She pulled herself away from him after calming down, sitting up straight again. 

“I'm sorry about this…”

“Don't be,” he cooed. “You went through a lot, I'm not sure what I would do with myself if Lyanna d-.” He paused, rethinking his next words. “If I lost Lyanna.”

They sat in silence for a bit, not knowing what to say next. But somehow it was comfortable, as if time hadn't passed and they were still two kids again, without a care in the world. She was glad, she desperately needed some semblance of normalcy.

Ralph was the first to break the silence.

“Tell me more about this arm of yours,” he turned to her. “How does it work?”

She held her marbled arm, studying the golden veins on its surface. “Honestly, I'm not sure. The most I did with it was what happened with that Nadir guy.”

Ralph hummed, a wishful glint behind his eyes as he once again analyzed her limb. He then looked down as his own right arm. 

“May I ask you to try something?”

With his left arm, he pulled the jacket he wore off, just enough to unveil his right arm.

Or what was left of it.

Her eyes grew wide in stupor at the sight. His arm was missing from the middle of his biceps down, the limb crudely bandaged up at the bottom. The tissue was tinted red with dried blood. 

“Oh gods, what happened!?”

He chuckled dryly. “Enforcer bomb went out right next to me, I was lucky it only took my arm.”

“Ok,” she exhaled in resolution. “You want me to try to heal that wound?”

“Actually… Can you try bringing my arm back?”

Her eyes shot up to his face in exasperation.

“That's one tall order!”

“Could you at least try?,” he pleaded. “You said you weren't sure how those powers worked, but you did heal a man from being paralyzed.”

She scoffed. “Paralyzing that I inflicted in the first place!”

“All the more reasons to try then, that arm seems to be packing quite a punch.”

“I'm not sure about that…”

“Please, (Y/N),” the vulnerability in his voice caught her off-guard. “I need both my arms to work. We've been fighting for scraps ever since the conflict with Topside broke out, the loss of my arm only made providing for my family that much harder.”

With a deep breath, she reached Ralph's damaged arm with her marbled hand. Carefully as not to hurt him, she pressed her palm on top of the bandages.

“Here goes nothing.”

Closing her eyes, she tried to perform the same method she did when healing Nadir. She pictured Ralph with his right arm outstretched, the bottom part of his stump free of bandages, all the innards exposed. His humerus slowly regenerated, growing out of the upper arm region until it was complete, the radius, ulna and the hand following right after. Once the bones were settled, all muscles, tendons and ligaments acted the same way, until his whole arm was good as new. She then prayed, begged to the Celestials and the Aspect of the Immortal Flame to regenerate Ralph's arm. To bring back his full range of motions.

Her marbled arm hummed with energy, like an electric current traveling from her core to her palm in waves. Her breath hitched, weariness setting in as if she was on a jog, her energy getting steadily drained. But she persisted as much as she could, until the lightheadness she felt verged into a fainting spell. 

Letting go of his arm, she panted as she caught her breath. She blinked a few times after opening her eyes in an attempt to get rid of the spots dancing around her vision. She glanced at Ralph's arm once she composed herself.

Where once was a badly bruised stump, with bloodied scars still inflamed, was a stump smooth and completely healed. The skin all around it even seemed fuller and healthier. 

But there was no new arm in sight. Whatever healing she could muster couldn't create new flesh.

Her eyes met Ralph's, whose crestfallen expression told her he had arrived at the same conclusion.

But he quickly shook his head, smiling at her.

“At least you sped the healing process. It's a relief to get rid of the soreness.”

He then proceeded to take a big stretch with a loud yawn, before making a thespian show for getting up.

“If you don't have somewhere to stay, you should come to my place. I think Ekko would be interested in having you and those powers join his ranks.”

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

Ekko was indeed interested to have her and her powers join his ranks. Ralph led her to what she'd learn was the Firelight’s hideout - an oasis hidden at the upper level of the Undercity. A resistance group that once fought against the exploitation of Undercitizens in the hands of chembarons, and now fought back against Topsider’s occupation and forced pacification. 

The people of the Hideout had mixed feelings towards her at first. There were those suspicious of someone who came from the Topside, hosting magic inside a bizarre arm. However, there were also those who knew her from when she was known as the Architect from the Academy, responsible for leading urban projects for the betterment of the Undercity. Soon, the suspicion thinned out, thanks to the vouching of Ralph and Lyanna, and she started to use her newfound powers for the sake of the community the Firelights had created.

Having a purpose again helped her navigate her grief better. With each smile her healing helped provide, each burden she helped lift, her consciousness felt a little less heavy. Viktor would be pleased, having his legacy survived in her, despite the suffering she'd previously caused him.

She learned of a mural on which the Firelights would paint the faces of notorious Undercitizens lost. After a while, she convinced them to add Viktor's face to the roster - a fellow Undercitizen Scholar who fought tooth and nail to make the Lanes s better place. She'd find herself looking up at him often; somehow, it brought her comfort to see his face among his people again. It kept her resolve firm in assisting Ralph and the Firelights.

Although the community was very self-sustainable, she learned that the conflict between Topside and the Undercity had created scarcity. One method they found of somewhat countering it was stealing as much as they could from the people outside the Hideout - especially from Pilties. That was what happened to her on her first day back - Ralph’s team spotted her gilded bag from a mile away, and so she’d become a target.

One day, after one of these expeditions, Ralph came up to her as she was doing some healing on an elderly Lady. 

“Hey.”

He called from behind her.

“Give me a second, Ralph.” 

She had her eyes closed, as she gently pressed her marbled palm on the lady's upper back. After a while, the glow of the veins on her arm faded out as she exhaled.

“There, Mrs. Siva. You should be able to breathe better now.” She beamed at the lady. On cue, Mrs. Siva took a long and unobstructed breath and smiled.

“Good heavens, the rasping is gone,” the Old Lady exclaimed. She turned around, taking both of the girl's hands. “Thank you kindly, my dear.”

The girl smiled back. “Don't mention it. Come back to me whenever you need.”

As Mrs. Siva left, the girl turned to face Ralph. Her eyes widened as she saw him.

“Your arm!”

Ralph smiled, waving at her with his hand. His new right hand. Connected to his new right arm. From the middle of his upper arm, where once was nothing, a mechanical prosthetic arm sprung, in steel and copper. 

Prosthetics and augmentations were common in the Undercity, but with conflict causing both scarcity and destruction, rendering more and more people in need of mechanized limbs, they had become difficult to come by. That in itself would be enough cause to be surprised at Ralph's new acquisition, but this one also had a… refinement that was not commonly seen. She watched him wave at her, his movements natural and smooth, as if it was a real arm. If she didn't know, it could've easily been mistaken for a weird over-the-elbow metallic glove and not a prosthetic.

“That's amazing! Where did you get that?”

“It is, isn't it?” He twirled his wrist around, opening and closing his fingers. “I heard people talking about this guy’s workshop at the Entresol level and I decided to check it out. Turns out he was the real deal!”

“It must have cost a fortune,” she commented, getting up from her stool, and reaching for his new arm in awe. 

“Would you believe me if I said it didn't cost me a single penny? The dude's doing this from the goodness of his heart or something.”

“Oh, wow,” she muttered. Instinctively, she glanced back at the painted mural, spotting Viktor. “I'm glad there's still people out there just making people's lives better.”

“Tell me about it, although… “ he scratched his chin, his eyes looking away from her. “He was mighty impressed with how the arm had healed before he did the procedure, and I ended up telling him about… Well, about you.”

Her eyes shot back at him with a scowl.

“Are you insane?”

“Wait wait, hear me out. Do you see this?” He brought both of his hands close to each other, touching each finger from his flesh hand to his prosthetic one rhythmically, with an impossible precision. “This kind of finesse is not a thing when it comes to prosthetics, and he theorized that life-like movements are a direct result of the interface between his tech and your healing magic.”

She hummed in response, eyes trailing his prosthetic arm again. Failing to bring Ralph’s arm back had pained her. It made her reminisce of her own time being an amputee, how even the most simple of tasks suddenly became a hassle in the face of her disability. She also watched him being often cast aside in the hideout, even when done not maliciously - the lack of his limb made him a liability. But now he had his arm back - and a damn good one at that. 

Imagine if all of the people in the hideout in need of a limb had a fine prosthetic like Ralph now possessed. 

“He said he was interested in meeting you.”

She blinked a few times out of her thoughts. With a long exhale, she turned to look at Ralph.

“I’m interested in meeting him too.”

[dawnstruck]

What if...

In honor of the “a sex tag has been added to the series warnings”, I just suggested the following scenario to my friend. After all, since we got Viktor nearly dying while Mel and Jayce got their freak on in S1, why not have another fun, totally meaningless montage that features no symbolism whatsoever?

Please imagine:

Cait and Vi, finally locked in a passionate embrace. Months of ‘will they, won’t they’ coming to an end. They’re somewhere intimate, private. Cait’s rooms at the Kiramman mansion perhaps, where they spent that first soft encounter. Away from prying eyes and people who demand their attention. Just the two of them. Kissing, shedding clothes.

Simultaneously, Viktor and Jayce, on a battlefield of their own making. Throwing each other around, leaving chinks in each other’s armor. Years of friendship, of partnership, of congeniality destroyed with blow after blow.

Cait and Vi, all soft smiles and quiet laughter and shy nods, enthusiastic consent all the way.

Jayce and Viktor, snarling and growling, Jayce’s teeth bared, Viktor’s face hidden by an impersonal mask.

Cait’s shirt coming off, her milk white skin pressed close against Vi’s tattoos.

One of Viktor’s gloves tearing, revealing his hand corrupted by the HexCore, his unnatural fingers closing around Jayce’s vulnerable, human neck.

Vi, strong and playful, flipping Cait around on the bed, pillows bouncing.

Viktor slamming Jayce into a wall, concrete crumbling.

Vi’s hand, fondling Cait’s breast, caressing a pink nipple. Cait moaning in response.

Viktor sinking his HexClaw into Jayce‘s chest. Jayce crying out, agonized.

A close-up of Cait, sweat soaked, hair damp, clearly sated, whispering “I love you” against Vi’s kiss-bitten lips.

Jayce, tired and broken, blood running down his brow, trickling from his mouth, gasping, “Viktor, I-“

“We should do that again sometime, cupcake,” Vi laughs, falling back against the sheets, holding Cait close.

“It ends here, Jayce,” Viktor says, letting Jayce fall to the ground. Leaving him for dead, just like Jayce left him before.

“I’m sure it can be arranged,” Cait huffs back, turning her face to nuzzle Vi’s shoulder.

Jayce does not reply.

[knoepfl]

hi I love your arcane viktor and mylo stories a lot 👀 and I have a request!

Could you do one where Y/N (who is his girlfriend in this) is hurt and she almost starts to cry because of the pain but Mylo is there to give her comfort and treat her wounds?? And maybe try to make her laugh by his stupid jokes to distract her pain (I just know that guy is a softie on the inside)

Hope this isn't much keep up the good work!! :3

Omg thank you so much for your request! I'm so happy to receive these and also to hear you like my fics is making me all giddy inside^^ I will absolutely do your request as fast as possible bc to be honest. I appreciate that you love Mylo too! It's hard to find fics with him. So here it is! I hope you like it and I didn't disappoint you^^

Patchwork and Punchlines

Characters:

• Y/N (Your Name)

• Mylo’s girlfriend, resourceful and tough, but injured during a skirmish.

• Mylo

• Sarcastic and witty, but shows his softer, caring side when Y/N gets hurt.

Pairing:

Mylo x Reader

Trigger Warnings:

• Violence and Injury: Includes a brief chase, Y/N being hit and injured, and receiving medical attention.

• Pain and Medical Treatment: Mentions of stinging pain and treating a bleeding wound.

• Mild Blood Imagery: Brief reference to blood and bandaging a wound.

Masterlist

Words: 1149

--- Zaun was no stranger to chaos, but tonight seemed particularly hostile. The air was thick with tension as you and Mylo darted through the crowded streets, weaving between towering pipes and makeshift bridges. A simple errand—delivering a small package for Vander—had spiraled out of control when a group of hostile enforcers appeared out of nowhere, barking orders and swinging batons.

"Split up!" Vi had shouted over her shoulder, already leading Powder and Claggor down another alley.

That left you and Mylo with no choice but to head the opposite direction, deeper into the winding maze of Zaun. The shouts of the enforcers echoed behind you, growing louder with every second.

“We’re gonna die!” Mylo yelled, narrowly avoiding a stack of crates as he sprinted ahead of you. “I knew this would happen! I said this was a bad idea, didn’t I?”

“You say everything is a bad idea!” you shot back, struggling to keep pace with him.

Suddenly, an enforcer burst out from a side alley, cutting off your path. His baton gleamed under the dim industrial lights as he swung it toward you. Instinctively, you ducked, the baton grazing your shoulder instead of smashing your face. The force of the blow sent you stumbling into a stack of barrels, the sharp edge of one scraping your arm as you fell.

“Y/N!” Mylo skidded to a stop, his eyes wide as he turned back to you.

“I’m fine!” you lied, clutching your arm as you scrambled to your feet. The pain was sharp and immediate, but the adrenaline pumping through your veins forced you to keep moving.

The enforcer lunged again, but this time Mylo stepped in, jabbing his elbow into the man’s stomach and yanking you out of harm’s way. “Fine, huh? You’re bleeding, genius!” he snapped, dragging you toward a narrow alley.

“Yeah, well, I’d rather bleed than get arrested!” you retorted, wincing as your arm throbbed.

“Good point,” Mylo muttered, glancing over his shoulder as more enforcers poured into the street behind you. “But I’d rather not do either.”

The two of you ducked into the alley, Mylo practically shoving you forward. The path twisted and turned, the walls closing in as the sound of pursuit grew fainter. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, you reached a dead end.

“Great. Just great!” Mylo hissed, pacing back and forth. “We’re trapped! This is how it ends, isn’t it? Beaten to death by enforcers because Vi couldn’t keep her mouth shut.”

You slumped against the wall, exhaustion and pain catching up to you. “Stop panicking for five seconds, Mylo. We lost them.”

He froze mid-rant, his gaze snapping to you. “You’re kidding, right? What if—”

“I said we lost them,” you interrupted, gesturing toward the silence around you. “Now, can you just—ugh—focus on this instead?” You pulled your hand away from your arm, revealing the blood-streaked tear in your sleeve.

Mylo’s face paled. “Oh, crap. That’s… that’s not good.”

“It’s not that bad,” you lied again, though the tears welling in your eyes said otherwise.

He crouched down in front of you, his earlier panic replaced by something softer. “Not that bad? Y/N, you’re leaking! People don’t just casually leak!”

---

You leaned against the wall, biting your lip to keep from crying out. Blood seeped through the tear in your sleeve, the sharp sting of the cut making your vision blur.

Mylo was crouched in front of you, his hands hovering as if unsure what to do. His usual snarky confidence was replaced by wide eyes and furrowed brows. “Okay, okay, don’t freak out,” he said, mostly to himself. “You’re not dying. Yet.”

You shot him a glare through the haze of pain. “Not helping, Mylo.”

“Right, sorry.” He rubbed the back of his neck, visibly flustered. “I’ve got this! Totally. Just… give me a second.”

He rummaged through his satchel, pulling out a ragged strip of cloth and a bottle of something that smelled like it could melt steel. His face softened when he glanced at your pale features, a rare crack in his sarcastic armor. “Hey, I’ll fix you up, alright? I’m practically a doctor. You can call me… uh, Dr. Mylo.” He grinned, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Licensed in talking too much and patching up badasses like you.”

You tried to chuckle, but it came out as more of a wince. “Doesn’t sound very reassuring.”

He kneeled closer, dabbing the cloth in the makeshift antiseptic. “Okay, this might sting a little. Like, maybe a lot. But you’re tough, right?” His voice wavered, betraying the nervousness he was trying to hide.

When the cloth touched your wound, a sharp hiss escaped your lips, and tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. Mylo froze, his hand halting mid-motion. “Whoa, whoa, Y/N—don’t cry!” he blurted, his voice rising an octave. “I mean, not that you can’t cry if you want to, but—uh—oh, crap, I’m terrible at this.”

You couldn’t help but let out a weak laugh at his panic. “Mylo, you’re so bad at this.”

“Hey, that’s rude. I’m saving your life here!” He smirked, clearly relieved by the sound of your laugh. “I mean, without me, who’d patch you up? Vi? She’d probably just punch the wound closed.”

“Powder?” you teased.

“Powder would just throw glitter on it and call it a day.”

The image of Powder sprinkling glitter over a bloody wound made you laugh despite the pain. Mylo grinned, clearly pleased with himself, and gently continued cleaning the cut. “There we go, see? You’re already looking better. Laughing hurts less than crying, right?”

As he worked, he kept up a steady stream of ridiculous jokes and commentary. “You know, if you keep getting hurt like this, I’m gonna start charging you. I don’t work for free, you know.”

“Oh, really? What’s your price?” you asked, your voice steadier now.

“Hm…” Mylo tilted his head, pretending to think. “How about you buy me dinner? Or, I dunno, just kiss me better when I inevitably stab myself trying to open a can or something.”

You smiled through the lingering sting of the antiseptic. “Deal.”

With the wound cleaned and bandaged, Mylo sat back on his heels, brushing a lock of hair out of your face with uncharacteristic tenderness. “See? Told you I’d fix you up. Not bad for a street rat, huh?”

“Not bad at all,” you admitted, feeling a warmth in your chest that had nothing to do with the injury. “Thanks, Dr. Mylo.”

He chuckled, the sound softer now. “Anytime, Y/N. But seriously, next time? Duck faster.”

You rolled your eyes, but your smile didn’t fade. Mylo might have been a cocky, sarcastic pain most of the time, but when it mattered, he was there for you. And as he leaned in to press a quick, awkward kiss to your forehead, you realized you wouldn’t trade him for anything.

---

[imjustavenuxwithaboomerang]

finished up act 2 with my sister:

she keeps wondering where ekko is (her prayers will be answered soon)

"i hope you know that every time he speaks, i feel dirty, i feel icky" (about silco)

she didn't realize that the scene with grayson and caitlyn was a flashback "i thought you were dead miss" i had to tell her...

"invisible string go crazy" (about sky and viktor already knowing each other)

"why don't you fight your own fucking battles" (about silco trying to unleash shimmer people on caitvi)

"woah! woah! we're done with the episode *literally closes my laptop*" (after mel pushed jayce onto the bed)

literally had a hand over her mouth the whole time heimerdinger was getting voted out "that's so rude"

"no, absolutely not, get out of my house. get away from my child" (to silco when he was with ren)

"loneliness is often the byproduct of the gifted mind" "ain't that the truth"

obviously can't show you but she made the funniest sound of disgust/surprise when it cut to mel and jayce making out

"why is this arc making me like heimerdinger, what the fuck is this?"

she's very concerned about jinx and her mental state "i didn't win the game, kill the game"

she did in fact have a physical reaction to the "you're hot, cupcake"

"viktor, are you alright?" "i have blood on my face, are you a fool?"

"i don't know why but i'm expecting her to be like 'keep up princess'" (about the scene where vi leaving cait in the dust with the parkour after getting out of prison)

"i feel like there's gonna be a point where it comes to blows and viktor's gonna be like 'now that you're a councilor, you're just like everyone else. you said you were for the people but now, you're not' that's what i feel"

"i was about to say just kiss but now i'm uncomfortable because we're in a brothel. this is not the place that you make the first move on someone you want to have a lasting impression on" (about caitvi)

"i don't care that you have a headache. i don't care that you're stressed, you brought this on yourself" (about marcus)

"that's really unfortunate for her but-" said with zero remorse (about sevika getting strung up by jinx)

she clowned the way that heimerdinger was vibing to the violin at the time but now she's okay with it because "he's the only councilor behaving correctly at this function"

"silco's number two's a regular" "i don't care about his bowel movements" (she got jokes apparently)

episodes 1 and 2 thoughts

ep 3 thoughts

ep 4 thoughts

episodes 7 and 8 thoughts

finale thoughts

[sodamnradd]

Hogwarts had fucking outed them.

Of all the people to stash in the bottom of the lake for Draco to rescue, they had chosen her.

She was wet and shivering, pale as a sheet, balled up in his arms.

Lucius was somewhere in the audience. Reporters snapped photos rapturously. Draco could feel Pansy’s eyes burning holes into his back from somewhere in the stands. It was too late to feign indifference. To pretend it had all been a fluke, that Draco had merely rescued the first person he could get his hands on in the Merfolk Colony.

Hermione’s icy fingers dug into his sides.

“You’re safe,” he murmured against her damp forehead. “I’ll never let anything happen to you.”

Pomfrey bustled over. Blankets stacked in her arms. Draco wrapped one around Hermione’s shoulders as Pomfrey cast a Warming Spell. He rubbed Hermione’s arms over the blanket.

They’d left her down there for hours.

Fuck this tournament.

“I’m quitting.”

Hermione’s eyes darted up. “You can’t.”

“How did they even know…” He stopped short, aware they were in public.

Hermione merely answered: “The Room of Requirement.”

After receiving an earful from his father, his ex, and a Howler from Narcissa, Draco slipped through the stone archway into their little sanctuary.

She was already there, bathed in firelight, cheeks flushed with colour again. She wore a thick knit jumper two sizes too big, his Slytherin one, and knee-socks. A textbook lay open in front of her.

“Rough day?” she teased, but he noted the tightness in her eyes. Hermione wore her heart on her sleeve and Draco knew every heartbeat.

“How are you?”

Before she could reply, he cupped her chin and kissed her hard on the mouth. She slipped into his lap, and he held her tightly, like they might steal her away again.

His stomach lurched, remembering.

“Better now.” She kissed the hollow beneath his jaw. “The Gillyweed worked.”

He didn’t want to talk about the second task. “I don’t need the accolade or the Galleons.”

“We’re so close to winning. You can’t give up now.”

“They hurt you.”

“I’m fine.”

“Stop.” He envisioned her ghostly figure, curls plastered to trembling arms, the knobs of her spine like pale marbles in the low-back swimsuit.

She nudged his cheek, meeting his gaze. “If you forfeit, I lose too.”

She was right, of course. Draco’s name had been drawn from the goblet, but Hermione had been with him every step of the way. Her cleverness had not only kept Draco alive, but also at the forefront of the competition.

When he didn’t respond, she added, “I’ll help Viktor win if you back out.”

“Granger,” he growled. She knew how Draco felt about Viktor and his stupid moony eyes that did nothing but track Hermione all day long. Low blow.

“The tournament is ours.” She clasped his hand. “It’s just as much my victory as it is yours.”

What could he say to that?

He’d never expected Granger to lead him to the dragons the night before the first task. Weasley had told her. And she’d told him. He didn’t know why she did it, but it shifted something between them. A tension that sparked last year and imploded into this unfathomable, precious partnership.

He was pretty sure he loved her.

And Malfoy men never said no to the women they loved.

“I’m assuming that’s research for the next task?” He motioned towards her textbook.

“Duelling spells. I’ll practice with you.”

He brushed his knuckles against her cheek and lowered his gaze, resigned. “Whatever you want, Granger.”

(593 words, photo prompt from twitter)

[thehistoriangirl]

Hey bestieee can I get uhhhhh.......what u think vik would like to get as a present for the holidays and what he would give reader in return

Hi bestie! Of course ^^ here is it, hope you like it <3

Loving Gifts

Viktor x Fem!(Artist!)Reader----1.2K----SFW

Tags: Established Relationship | Domestic Fluff | Slightly Suggestive at the end |

A dry, cold winter air flowed across the wide boulevards in the Commercial District, with Viktor adjusting the cozy red blanket around his neck to cover up his mouth and nose. With the sky rapidly tinted orange, he saw the Christmas lightning starting to turn on in each of the buildings around him.

He leaned against a wall, consulting the list tucked inside his pocket. 

-Dress (?)

-Custom jewelry  -> next anniversary. 

-Set of pastels (?)

Viktor had been cracking his brain to think about a gift for you ever since the coming of autumn. Last year, he had crafted you a lamp in the shape of a cherry tree, the one that was next to your drawing table, sending pink and golden hues around your atelier like in a perpetual dusk. 

This year, however, he had no idea what to give you, which made him feel quite anxious every time he entered a store, watching around the shelves to see if something caught his attention, like a call, only to end up with empty hands and another blow of gelid wind as he walked toward other business. 

What if he gave you something you didn’t like? He could imagine your eyes dropping slightly and the tense smile expanding your lips. For all the time you’d been together, Viktor had acquired the ability to read you like his favorite book.

He already had a little custom music box half-finished in his lab, kept inside the only drawer that held a key so you wouldn’t find it those times you liked to help him clean his workstation, waiting for Viktor to finish his job for the day. He snuck inside the Music Faculty to ask for a recording of the song that got you both together at the Academy Anniversary Foundation Gala two years ago when he gathered his courage to ask you for a dance.

Viktor smiled at the memory, the characteristic smell of oil and wood familiar as he entered the arts and crafts store you frequent, many of those visits with his arm interlocked in yours. 

The saleswoman smiled at him. “Hello, Sir, what can I help you with?” she said. “Is the Ma'am sick?”

“Ah—” he hung his lips ajar at the name ‘Ma’am’, because you two weren’t married, though you never corrected her, so, why would he? “No. I came here for her… eh, her Christmas gift.”

“Oh, of course!” She responded with a wide beam; her brown eyes squinted. “Do you have something in mind?”

Viktor looked around the clean and organized store, with wooden pencils and brushes, lines of canvas shown behind the counter, and a thousand rainbows shown in sets of crayons, pencils, pastels, and oil paintings.

“Yes. One of your set of pastels, please.” Viktor tapped his fingers along the handle of his cane, looking at the people walking hand by hand passing by him. He sighed, consulting his pocket watch. It was strange the way he’d grown to miss you, just comparable to how he yearned to keep inventing, to keep creating.

“Can you wrap it with newspaper?” he added. “She’s rather… curious, you see.” If you saw a box wrapped in gift paper, there was no doubt you’d start to peek. He thought you were just as mischievous as a cat. And just as adorable. 

“Of course, Sir.” For some minutes, the empty store filled with the sound of paper folding and tape being cut. “Here you have it. Careful, there. It’s heavier than it looks.”

“Thank you.” Viktor put the gift under his free arm, walking out of the store once he had paid.

The air hit even colder now that he had imagined how warm your embrace would be once he arrived home.

“But first,” he mumbled to himself, accommodating his beret and scarf before restarting his walk up the hill. “Let’s hide this in the lab.”

*~*~*~*

You put the photograph aside after watching it for the thousandth time, gently sliding it inside a book as you continue to paint the last details of Eve’s dress, the patches of clothes sewn into the fabric twin to the ones in little Viktor’s pants.

He looked so happy, standing between his parents with pride—you hoped you could mimic the childish delight on his face with your painting. Even if you weren’t good at restoring photos, why shouldn’t you replicate the image in your personal style?

Viktor had shown you the photo after some months of dating, getting it out of his notebook with its edges winkled and the paper thin for being held so much; the brown surface dotted with multiple stains. And yet, love kept emanating from it.

Now, Viktor would have the memory on a bigger canvas he could hang whenever he wished. You hoped he liked the gift, though it’ll be quite obvious wrapped under the tree once the painting was ready—you wished to give him only the best, just as he did with you. 

The brush slid against the canvas, wrist swaying to paint the thin decorative lines of the wallpaper inside his childhood home, the edge of a cold hearth behind the family tree, with Viktor sitting on a chair in the middle of his parents, the familiar toy boat in his lap. 

A smile grazed your face, looking at the round face of the small boy, amber eyes shining even in the now dim photograph. You were blessed with that gaze, too, every time he talked about his new projects and ideas, with the lamp on the nightstand giving his eyes a shine that could rival the stars.

Even when Viktor looked at you, a smile so big you could his adorable tooth gap.

You heard the entrance door creak open, settling your brush down in a vase with water.

“Moje láska, I’m home,” Viktor said, his voice muffled through the closed door of your studio. “Where are you, hmm?”

“I’m going!” You almost interrupted him, carrying the canvas toward the far end of the room, facing the closed window. 

Viktor was expecting you in the hallway, an eyebrow raised upon seeing your hands, and fingers stained with paint.

“Working still, my muse?” he muttered playfully, his hands intertwined with yours as he pulled you against him to give you a kiss on the forehead, then another on the cheek, to finally grace your lips with his own. 

You smiled, wrapping your arms around his shoulders to give him another, longer, kiss. 

“Yes, handsome,” you teased, poking his cheek that was starting to dust with a pink shade. 

“Should I let you work, then?” He hummed, his hands on your hips. “Wouldn’t like to delay your duties and get you in trouble.”

“Not at all. I only have to let the paint dry to start with the new layer tomorrow.” Tugging his hand, you pried away from the studio, so Viktor couldn’t ask to see the painting and spoil the surprise. “Come on, let’s have dinner together.”

Viktor chuckled, his thumb smudging a droplet of paint across the reverse of your palm. “Maybe I should bathe you first,” he said, eyes twinkling. “You’re always a masterpiece but today… eh, you have more paint on you.”

You laughed, one of your hands over Viktor’s. “Naughty.” Leaning closer to him, you pretended to smell him, scrunching your nose in a dramatic gesture. “You’re also very stinky.”

“That didn’t stop you from kissing me, did it?” His thumb circled your hip, fingers gently kneading the skin. “Not that I’m complaining, of course.”

“Never,” you giggled.

“Come on, my stinky dove,” Viktor teased, nuzzling his face against your hair. “Let’s draw a bath in the bathtub. I'm quite cold, so perhaps you could warm me up, yes?”

[themachineshepherd]

more jayvik weed hcs 🍃💨

——-

• viktor is VERY clingy while high, to jayce’s surprise. usually jayce is the one spooning vik and kissing all over him.. but viktor is very needy for jayce’s touch while high

• when vik’s pain acts up, jayce will pop an edible in his mouth and put his comfort movie on (yes it’s the iron giant.. idgaf it’s canon now!!)

• jayce likes to blow smoke in viktor’s face , vik will tap him lightly on the ankle with his cane in retaliation

• they have gotten so couch locked , that they had to call vi and cait to bring them food, vi snuck a hit of their joint as payment

• after watching a horror moving , they got so paranoid that jayce used his hammer on.. literally a fucking shadow.

• viktor is really giggly when high, constantly touching jayce’s face and yapping about his new scientific findings to him. jayce just stares in awe, he doesn’t listen fully as the weed is clouding his thinking hardcore. but, viktor’s excitement makes his heart melt

• jayce gets so fucking hungry it isn’t even funny, he has eaten so much of vik’s food and just passes out afterwards. high viktor just draws on his face as payback

• LOTS OF COUGHING. jayce has watched viktor fall to the fucking ground coughing and wheezing, as a scared and high bf, jayce panics so bad when this happens

• jayce likes to make cute little handmade gifts for vik when he’s high as a kite. tinkering and building is just in his blood, he’ll even draw cute pictures to give to him <3

• jayce holds vik on his lap and they’ll fall asleep while smoking a joint together

• sometimes, they both get emotional while high. jayce will talk about some childhood trauma and viktor feels so strongly about people that have hurt jayce, it breaks his heart. lots of comfort and kisses help mend a broken heart.

[eternalera]

in the name of science!!

viktor and jinx are friends and are completing a science project together... although it turns into a gossip session (courtesy of jinx)

1k+ words

"So... are we gonna talk about it?" Jinx leans back in her swivel chair, almost threatening to tip it over and for a second Viktor considers tipping it over himself because of course Jinx mentions it. She never did have any clue what 'personal space' was, or maybe she did and just preferred bothering him. Honestly it could really go either way for her, and for him. The pestering was rather mutual.

He sets down his wrench and pushes the metal object that was previously in his hands aside. They were trying to make an energy generation machine, something that involved the physics of perpetual motion to create energy more easily, but apparently that is going to have to wait.

"Talk about what?" Viktor tilts his head as he turns it to look at her, mocking confusion. Maybe she doesn't even remember, well he could hope at least.

Jinx scoffs, blowing a tuft of blue hair out from her face. "The whole 'Viktor, you're my best friend!' 'Oh, how I couldn't do this without you!' 'I love you so dearly' 'Nothing in the entire world can ever compare to your genius!' " she mocked in a (rather bad) Jayce impression.

"That wasn't a very good impression," Viktor points out. If she's gonna be like this then might as well return the favor

"Pfft- alright-"

"You just vaguely lowered your voice,"

"Alright-"

"I think Vi does it better,"

Jinx got up from her chair and pushed Viktor almost out of his but he caught himself (on his bad leg, whether or not that was on purpose though is a mystery to him).

"Alright, that's enough. We're talking about Jayce here, not my impression of him-"

"Of course not, I could hardly even tell that it was him in the first place-"

"I'm going to push you out of your chair Vik,"

Viktor smiles at her innocently and looks back to their device, touching it as if he were examining it but not actually doing so. He knew what she was talking about. Jinx was convinced he and Jayce had something... a little more friendly going on, to put it into words. Something that he knew not to be true, and something he didn't like entertaining because he knew it not to be so.

"There's nothing to talk about,"

"Really? You could just stand in a dark corner and he'd find a way to praise you for it," Jinx crosses her arms, looking down on him. Viktor opens his mouth to respond before shutting it, he knows that it's the truth because he's practically done it before, giving a speech and then afterwards telling Viktor how helpful it was to have him there as support.

He did nothing the entire time, just watched.

"See! You're not even arguing!"

"Jinx this is due tomorrow we have to get this done-"

"Eh, I'll finish it later," she shrugs it off without a second thought -- typical -- and instead sits on the floor looking up at him smugly. "Anyways let's focus on the main point," she emphasizes.

"There is nothing between us-"

"And my name's Powder," Jinx hisses in retaliation.

Viktor looks at her and narrows his eyes. He might regret what he's going to say next but fuck it. It's nothing that she's not used to by this point.

"Technically it is-" he barely finishes his words before he's tugged down to the floor aggressively with no concern about his leg at all and jinx pointing one of her brightly colored nails in his face.

"Watch it legs,"

Viktor scoffs at the remark. Nothing they haven't said to each other before. She lets him go and he adjusts his seating to something more comfortable.

"You owe me now. Spill, do you find Mr. Golden Boy attractive, and if so why the hell are your standards so low?" It sounds more like a statement than anything. "Because he's attracted to you and at this point I'm gonna start making bets about when the two of you are gonna end up together-"

"That's never going to happen," Viktor says, a little too quickly, but he sees Jinx's confused face and decides that he should give her an answer. "I'm pretty sure that he likes Mel,"

"Mel!?" Jinx half shouts, there's a look in her eyes that makes Viktor regret everything. He just hopes that Mel can survive the constant teasing from Jinx, then again, she is strong. "The one in the debate club? The one on the student council?" She scoffs and this time flicks her hair out of her face. "She is way out of his league,"

Viktor looks at her in disbelief before-- wait.

"Did you just imply that I’m easy?” Viktor stares at her before Jinx shakes her head.

“I just asked you why your standards were so low earlier idiot,” She leans on her hands, placing them behind her back. “I- quit changing the subject!” She hissed leaning forward and slamming her hands down on the floor dramatically.

Viktor sighs and looks away trying to find an excuse when one came to him (and rather conveniently), his phone rang. He picked it up seeing Jayce’s contact, something that Jinx sensed and instantly began trying to grab the phone afterwards. Luckily though he picked up before she could hang up and continue their little session or whatever that was.

“Viktor! I’m so glad that you picked up! I was wondering if you could meet up right now possibly, I have this really cool new idea and I kinda need your help with it,” Jayce spits out rather quickly.

Viktor looks over to Jinx who’s looking over to their project (which she stopped doing) as if it was a reason to get him to stay with her. It’s safe to say that he wasn’t convinced.

“Yeah, I’ll be right over,”

“Yes! Thank you Viktor,”

“Of course, just send me the address,” Viktor hangs up, getting a rather annoyed look from Jinx. “What? He needs my help.” Viktor shrugs as if he wasn’t looking for an excuse to avoid their earlier conversation.

“Uh uh, whatever, I’m finishing it I guess?” she asks, pointing over to it. Viktor nods rushing out the door.

“Thanks!” He calls out.

“No problem, just tell me if anything spicy happens-”

“Nevermind,”

He hears her laughter on the way out the door.

[arte-han]

what if Jayvik ending went something like...

Jayce and Viktor held each other tightly bracing for their final moment...

"Together" Jayce reassured Viktor that he will stay with him til the end, despite his fear. He was shaking, yet he was ready. Viktor brought his hand to rub Jayce's arm to soothe him.

They looked at each other one last time. Tears forming on Jayce's eyes, he pressed his forehead onto Viktor's.

"I love you" he whispered as he planted a kiss on his forehead.

Viktor smiled, "I'm sorry."

Jayce held him tighter "You do no wrong in my eyes..."

"... for this."

Jayce's smile faded as he was suddenly sucked by a portal, his grip slipped from Viktor's hand. He tried to reach him again, but it was too late, his eyes filled with horror at the sight of Viktor giving him a sad smile and mouthed "I love you" at him at him as he faded in his view.

He hit ground and rolled over to stand back up, "NO!" he tried running back, but as soon as he reached the portal, it had fully closed.

"VIKTOR" he let out a painful screech from the top of his lungs, ripping his vocal cords, punching the ground with his bare hands.

The metal creatures fell lifeless into the ground, one by one. Followed was a huge wave of air that passed nearly blowing Jayce off the ground. He looked up the sky and it was painted in odd colors of blue, pink and yellow. With that, Hextech was gone... along Viktor, his partner, his soulmate.

----

Deepest apologies. I will offer more fluff content in return. :'D