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dnvrsmedia · 1 month ago

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Worth the Fight

Sevika x reader

a/n: no descriptive terms used for reader!

warnings: slight arcane act 2 spoilers READ AT YOUR OWN DIGRESSION, hurt/comfort, domestic!sev, isha & jinx mention!

word count: 2581

Adrenaline thumps with a high pressure through Sevika’s veins. She can feel her heart pumping so hard she wonders how it doesn’t burst through her chest. This is not what she expected when Jinx agreed to breaking into Stillwater. The place isn’t necessarily the most welcoming (even though she is very familiar with the prison) yet, a ten-foot-something killing beast was not on her bingo card. At this point she wonders why she has any expectations when Jinx is involved.

These past few weeks, Sevika has wondered if this is what will finally kill her. If all she ever has been good for has been a soldier. First under Vander, then under Silco, and now? She tries to keep hope, but all she can feel is despair. The dark and looming feeling felt thick in her throat like the gray. Decaying her insides until she asphyxiates on its rot. That is until she comes home to you. All of her doubt leaves her body once she steps foot into your shared space. The smell of your body wash mixed with the candles you always have lit immediately relaxes her. Her shoulders no longer feel like it's holding the weight of Zaun once she’s home. Meeting you has single handedly given her a new wind beneath her wings.

Throughout her time fighting for independence, she quickly realized just how insignificant her life is, or at least that’s what she’s been told. She is always putting her life on the line for the greater good. She stopped fighting so that she could live the life she thinks everyone else deserves. Hell, she doesn’t believe she deserves half of what she is fighting for. Sevika knows she has done some unsavory things in her past. Things she won’t ever forgive herself for doing. Gods, Janna knows she’s been nothing close to a saint. There are things she’s done that haunt her in her dreams, and she thought she has come to terms with this fact. The fact that not all is good in love and war. Not all of the horrors she's experienced and been on the other side of producing were necessary.

She never saw a life for herself post Zaun independence. Ever since she joined the fight, she's only seen herself dying alone in one of three places: in a fight, in the brothel, and at the end of a bottle. So she drank and smoked and gambled and fought her life away, because it's the least she could do. She fights so that the next generation doesn't need to skirmish with each other in the lanes. She fights so that not another kid gets orphaned by the mines or the chembarrons, or shit, even shimmer, but fighting for her own life never even crossed her mind. Who could blame her if that is all she’s known? Her deadbeat father didn’t teach her the value of her worth, that's for sure. So, why would she bat an eye at her reckless lifestyle? Unexpectedly, that all changed. She didn’t see herself as valuable until you came into her life. You and your unabashed love for her. You and the light you bring to every room you step in. You and your confidence in Sevika to come back home to you. If Sevika is one thing she is loyal, and fiercely loyal she is to you. So when her priorities lied loyal to you, she was forced to come to terms she never even dreamed of having. The sole idea of growing old and having a love like in the fairytales made her feel like a young girl again. Yet, this led to turmoil within her head. She now has to break down all of the things she’s barred herself from receiving, all of the chances at a semi-normal life. She now has to realize just how much she does want to live, and that is where her true fears lie.

Sevika didn’t start consciously fighting until you opened her eyes to what love is. She couldn;t deal with the heartbreak she brought you when she came home two weeks late after the blast. She will never forget the sobs of relief you made when she hobbled into your shared space, the horror in your eyes when you noticed her arm missing. No matter how frustrated and full of emotions you were, you never yelled. This is when Sevika knew you were it for her. Many times in her younger years did she disregard the advancements of genuine connections from others. She would meet someone, enjoy their company for a few weeks and then essentially ghost them. Only to return weeks if not months later looking for some fun. This never bode well with her flings; leaving constant screaming matches in her wake left her ears ringing with a headache. So when she essentially did the same to you (under different circumstances) Seviks assumed the same would be with you. Yet, to her surprise you stayed. She never understood how a gentle love found her. She spends her restless nights looking at the silhouette of your face, wondering how and why you chose her. Her whole life has been filled with loss and pain, gentleness is not something she has ever experienced.

“Sevika, take her and go!” Jinx cries as she tosses Isha’s small and frail body into Sevika’s muscular one.

Her eyebrows knit together as her body moves before her brain thinks. She must’ve frozen at the sight of the large beast slaughtering several Enforcers. With no second thought, her body is sprinting as fast as she can. The young girl in her arm (that she has started to grow fond of) lets out a series of cries as she tries to wiggle out of her protective grasp. Her cries drive Sevika to find a way out of the prison. The whimpers of the mute girl bore into her brain as memories of her as a young child resurface. The tears dripping onto her bicep keep her moving.

Sevika is unable to produce words to the young girl. She curses as she knows that the words and emotions were more of your thing. Sevika wants to comfort her and tell her that Jinx will be okay, but even she doesn’t know that for sure.

So, she tries to think of things you would do to keep Isha happy. How your gentle presence allowed for the orphan girl to have a liking to you. She tries to caress her head the way you’ve done when putting her to sleep, but the lack of another arm leaves it more difficult. The best thing she can do is ensure the girl's safety. Sevika shakes her head and digs deep in her bones for extra fuel. Her body aches and has been aching extra hard these past days, but giving up is not an option. So, she thinks of anything but the carnage she just bore witness to and the heaviness of her legs slapping against the harsh concrete. Images of rare late mornings with you start playing in her mind. The sleepy cuddles with you raking your fingers through her hair and caressing her cheek play like a bitter sweet movie. The face you made when she came home with Jinx and Isha follows next. The softness that overcame your features when Isha peaked from behind Jinx’s leg left a feeling in Sevika’s chest that she never felt before. Warmth radiated through her heart like turning on a heater on the first day of winter.These thoughts carried her from topside to your shared home in Zaun.

The heavy footfalls outside of your humble apartment left your blood fall chill. Flashbacks to when Sevika came back from nearly dying left your heart beat pumping triple time. The door flings open to see a disheveled Sevika carrying an almost identical disheveled Isha. Your heart sinks as you piece what most likely had happened.

“Baby?” Your voice cracks as you walk closer to assess damages.

Sevika tries to hold on for you and for Isha, but knows if she speaks, tears will come. So she resorts to grunting. She hands Isha over to you and walks to the bathroom. You gape at her for a moment before springing to action. It isn’t until you feed, bathe, and clothe the young girl until you see Sevika step out of the room. You take that as a sign that she is ready to speak and you carry the young girl to the couch. Isha is knocked out at this point, you assume the combination of her crying and all that just went on really worn her out. You give the girl one last rub on the back and leave her with a kiss to the forehead.

You pass the kitchen to see the plate that you had left for Sevika to have been gone and in the sink ready to be cleaned. A small smile adorns your face as you are grateful for the fact that she was able to eat. You grab two glasses and fill them with water for you to bring to your shared bedroom.

You gently knock on the door before opening to see Sevika staring out the window. You make your way over to her side of the bed and rest the glasses of water on the nightstand. She doesn't even notice your presence until a small ‘clink’ of the glasses takes her out of her trance.

“Baby, what happened?” You take a seat right next to your lover, raking your fingertips up and down her spine. You can feel just how tense her whole body is as she sits rigid like a statue.

A shaky sigh is let out from Sevika as her eye contact remains looking at the darkness outside. The two of you just sit in silence for a bit until Sevika is able to start from the beginning. She lets you know just how terrified she actually felt at that time, she lets you know just how weak she felt without her arm, and she lets you know how you and Isha were the only things keeping her going. She lets you know how you were her north star and how without you, she would have just given up.

“I don’t even know what I am doing anymore, babe.” A stray tear finds its way down her cheek.

“All I ever do is fight and I just don’t know how much more I have in me. I'm tired…I am so tired.” More tears silently flow against your lover's cheek, breaking your heart at the sight. You caress her cheek, wiping away the tears she was too lazy to do herself.

Tiny cracks in your heart open like bullet wounds at her admission of her thoughts. You’ve known this to be true for a long time, yet being the protector that she is, Sevika never opened up to you about it. It is now time for you to put your strong face on and pick her up when she’s low, just like how she’s done for everyone else her entire life. You turn her face to look at yours, your tender hand contrasting her firm jaw. Sevika is reluctant to show you her brokenness, but she is just too tired to care at this point. Her eyes look past yours, darting around the room to find anywhere but your eyes.

“Look at me, honey.” You caress her cheek in hopes to coax her out of her mental prison. Your patience knows no bounds and that makes Sevika feel things she can’t even start to comprehend alone.

Her eyes trail to your own, swimming with emotion. She sees her future in your eyes and it scares her. You give her an encouraging smile and she feels her walls cracking.

“I- You’ve made me realize the things that I wish I could have and it scares me. I had nothing to lose for so long, and now I have so much on the line.” Her eyebrows furrow.

“Seeing the way you’ve completely changed my life confuses me. I know I don’t deserve a life that you are making me dream of.” Your eyes go wide at her confession to you.

“I never gave myself the opportunity to even imagine a world where I’m not alone, you know? But that day I came home to you after the explosion…It confused me. You have been the only constant in my life and I guess it just really hit today.” She nuzzles her face into your palm as you kiss the top of her head.

“Baby, you it hurts me to know that you can’t see just how much you deserve.” You lean in so that both of your foreheads are touching. Your eyes never leave her puppy dog grays.

“Because you know I am with you until the end. You are it for me Sev, you hear me? Whatever it takes.” You can barely get out the last of your words before Sevika is kissing you with all of the energy she has left. She may not be the best with her words, but she needs you to understand just exactly how you make her feel.

The kiss deepens as tears shed freely between the pair of you. Your bodies pressing close to one another, trying to engulf each other to become one. It gets to a point where Sevika has to pull away to catch her breath, but she doesn’t let you go too far. She stares at you in silence, taking in every aspect of your being.

“I’m terrified because you make me want those things. Having Isha here and seeing how you take care of her…” Sevika turns her head in slight embarrassment.

A huge smile adorns your face as you try and not scare her from opening up.

“Do you mean?” You whisper, afraid that if you spoke any louder you’d jinx (no pun intended) yourself.

Sevika’s face is hot with awkwardness at her vulnerability. She hasn’t spoken these words aloud to anyone, especially yourself.

“I want to keep waking up to you and Isha making breakfast. I want to keep teaching her how to tinker and fix things. I want to come home from work to see you both dancing in the living room. I want to grow old with you, baby. Seeing just how quick all of that could have went away, Gods that fucked me up.” She uses her hand to tug her hair away from her eyes.

“You were the only thing on my mind. I had to keep going for you and Isha.”

And now it is your turn to start crying. Your tears freely fall for the love of your life. The privilege you have had to see Sevika grow into the woman who is sitting in front of you.

“I want all of that with you, are you kidding me? You’re the woman of my dreams babe. Whether you like it or not you’re stuck with me.” You laugh teary eyed and smile at the smirk your lover returns.

The two of you share quite giggles as you both crawl into bed. The day is finally settling and Sevika is definitely feeling its effects. You hold her in your arms and try to burn this into your memory forever.

“So…you wanna be Mama Sev, huh?” You tease and laugh at her body going rigid.

Taglist:

@ab2ysw1fe

@queenabrahel

@caicreations

@arevik2345

@munsonsfairy

@moonlightnumbsthepainifeel

@sevikellsss

@whoreshores

@archangeldyke-all

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bunnwis · 17 days ago

Text

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫

you were lost to shimmer. he was reborn as the herald. yet, despite everything, he still remembered you.

read on ao3

viktor x fem!user. part 1/2 — part 2 will have nsfw content.

sfw, fictional drugs, low religious themes, small plot, romance, hurt/comfort, crying, ex lover, light exhibitionism, soft viktor.

ㅤㅤㅤwith accompanying gifs from the series for immersion purposes. enjoy ♡

￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣

“I will carry the memory of us, even as I leave you behind.”

His words were soft, barely more than a whisper. His hands—once a source of warmth, of comfort—now gripped your shoulders with a quiet finality, pulling you away. You clung to him as if the beat of your heart depended on it, your breath ragged, frantic, as though losing him meant losing yourself.

“No, please, Viktor... don’t go. Don’t leave me here. Take me with you, please...” Your voice broke on the words, hands clawing at his shirt, desperation flooding you. The cracks in your voice were raw, torn by the sobs that shook your chest. The warmth of him slipped through your fingers, replaced by the biting chill of the undercity night. The air, thick with decay, suffocated you, and your sobs echoed in the silence. Without him to hold you, you crumpled, falling to your knees on the rocky floor, the weight of his absence pressing down like the cold that now clung to your skin.

The hollow click of his cane against the cobbled streets echoed as he walked away, each step a painful reminder of the crushing, impending absence of him from your life. The shadows seemed to swallow him whole, but just before he disappeared, he turned. His gaze met yours—heavy, laden with grief, with a silent plea in those sharp golden circles, as if he were silently begging for your forgiveness, not for leaving, but for failing to fulfill the promise of a forever.

　　　　　　　　　　***

The years dragged by, each one a crushing weight pressing down on you. Without his presence—his steady voice guiding you, his intellect leading you to better choices—you felt yourself spiraling deeper into the void your life had become. Knowing exactly where he was only made it worse: up in Piltover, thriving in the academy, living the life of someone with a future. But there was no way for you to follow him there—not anymore.

The scars told the story better than you could. Angry streaks of purple-red carved into your arms, a testament to the choices you couldn’t undo and the abomination you’d become. Half your face bore the same cruel marks, hidden behind the fall of your hair and the fabric of your cloak. You survived the only way you could, moving quietly through the merciless streets and corners of the undercity. Each day was torture, a waiting game until the vile purple liquid coursed through your veins again. It dulled the pain—physical and emotional—silenced your regrets and memories. For some fleeting moments, it made you feel strong—something almost invincible—in the face of the weakness consuming your flesh and mind.

　　　　　　　　　　***

You were asleep when it happened, curled up in a makeshift bed inside a flimsy tent shared with a couple of other girls. The arrangement wasn’t comfortable, but it offered safety in numbers—strength against the threats that lurked. A sharp, electrical hum cut through the quiet, jolting you awake. The air shifted suddenly, heavy with a strange static that prickled at your skin. The others stirred in hushed murmurs, their movements stiff with unease.

Wide-eyed, you peeked outside, hiding your face under your hair to not be seen, perceived, acknowledged. A figure stood at the center of the small "commune", cloaked in deep blue, a wooden cane in one hand. The faint glow of dim lights from up the crevice they were in illuminated only his outline. Beside him, a man knelt—someone who looked familiar, yet wrong. You recognized his face, but it was impossible to reconcile it with what you were seeing. There were no scars marring his skin, no tattered rags clinging to his frame. He sat upright, his gaze fixed on the cloaked figure with an expression that bordered on reverence.

The scene unsettled you. Questions stirred at the edge of your mind, but you pushed them away, exhaustion weighing too heavily on your mind for any clear thoughts to form. Instead, you slipped into the growing crowd that formed a loose circle around the figure. Careful and unassuming, almost opportunistically. Like the others, you only hoped for the promise of another dose, and it was enough to keep you lingering, watching, waiting.

The words that left the figure's mouth were spoken in a familiar accent and soothing tone you knew all too well. The realization hitting you like a thunderclap, and for a moment, the world around you seemed to tilt upwards. You felt a cold rush on your head as blood drained from your extremities, leaving your limbs cold and your heart pounding erratically against your ribcage. It couldn't be Viktor, what would he be doing here? He was a scientist now, an academic intellectual, practically adopted by Piltover.

“You need not suffer anymore.”

His voice was soft but resonant, his words final but with hint of empathy behind them, so familiar, yet sharper, more authoritative, more... otherworldly—only deepened the realization that he had changed, for better or worse she had no idea right now. He raised his head, the hood slipping back slightly to reveal more of his face. Viktor’s gaze swept over the gathering, and for a brief, agonizing moment, it landed on you. You saw it—recognition flickering in those sharp, golden eyes. Despite the stark transformation of his body, the way his eyes softened was unmistakably his.

The same golden pupils, framed by sharp eyes that had been blurry and distorted in your memory from the time apart, now stood before you. The weight of it hit you all at once, and your knees buckled beneath you, your body too weary to stay upright. Breath hitched in your throat, as though the very air you breathed had fled away, leaving your lungs to claw and heave. You looked up at him, paralyzed by recognition, disbelief, and... fear.

The murmurs of the crowd swirled around you, a low hum of uncertainty and awe. Their faces blurred as your vision narrowed, the man at the center of it all drawing every last ounce of your focus. How? How could he be here? Had he come for her?

Your eyes widened at the thought and you quickly lowered your head, not in reverence, like the man who had just been healed, but in a desperate attempt to avoid Viktor's gaze—afraid he might recognize you in this pitiful, broken state.

A faint, almost imperceptible smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. It was a gesture that felt both foreign and achingly familiar, a fragment of the Viktor you once knew. His lips parted, and when he spoke, the sound of his voice sent a shiver through you. It still carried that distinctive, comforting accent, but now it was layered with sorrow and regret.

“Моя зайка... I... didn’t expect to see you here.”

Your breath caught in a sharp gasp, your body frozen under the weight of his words, your hands trembling as they rested on top of your bent knees. The nickname, once a sweet whisper in the quiet moments you shared, echoed through your mind like a knife. Years had passed, but hearing it again stirred something within you—an uncomfortable mix of anger, shame, and an painful longing—twisting together until you could no longer tell where one feeling began and the other ended.

You lowered your head, trying desperately to disappear into the ground beneath you, but it was futile. Your body betrayed you, locked in frozen panic. Viktor took a step closer, his movements deliberate but unhurried, the soft hum of his energy pulsing faintly from his changed anatomy. The air around you seemed to thicken with every step he took, each one drawing him nearer, until finally, he knelt before you, and the world around you seemed to completely fall away.

“Look at me,” he urged, his voice a quiet plea that echoed through the silence between you.

For a long moment, you hesitated. Your hands trembled as they instinctively gripped the edge of your cloak, pulling it tighter around your scarred face. You couldn’t let him see you, not like this. But Viktor didn’t falter. Slowly, his transformed hand reached out, the cold metal fingers brushing your cheek with a tenderness that contrasted sharply with the unnatural chill of his touch. The warmth you once knew was gone, replaced by cold, humming metal, and yet, his eyes—those eyes—still held so much emotion, it made your chest tighten in confusion.

“It’s alright, моя зайка,” he murmured softly. “These scars don’t define you.”

His words were gentle, but they stirred something deep inside you, something you couldn’t suppress no matter how hard you tried.

"Do not call me that..." Your voice broke, thick with emotion. "You abandoned me... You left me here to rot..."

When you finally dared to raise your eyes, meeting his gaze, you found him studying you—not with judgment, nor disgust, but with an almost painful tenderness that made your heart ache. You felt a surge of anger, bitter and sharp. How could you not? He had chosen a life for himself in Piltover, a life that brought progress and success, while you were left here, lost, broken, decaying.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke, the words unsaid hanging in the air, too painful to voice. You wanted to push him away, to scream at him for abandoning you, for leaving you to rot in the undercity while he built a new life in Piltover. But the sight of him—different, yet somehow the same—tugged at something deep within you. The anger still burned, but beneath it, something else flickered—something fragile, something you didn’t want to face.

Viktor extended his hand toward you, his cold metallic fingers hovering just above your scarred cheek. He studied you carefully, the glow of Hextech energy pulsing faintly around his fingertips, casting a strange light on the bruised and broken skin that you had come to hate. You flinched instinctively, but there was no hostility in his gesture. No demand, no force. His eyes, though distant, softened—if only for a moment—as his hand hovered closer, almost like a gesture of apology as his fingers traced a scar on your cheek, gentle and reverent. “I never wanted to leave you,” he said softly, his voice almost a whisper. “But I couldn’t stay, Любимая. Not when I could do more... when I could make a difference.”

You swallowed hard, fighting to keep the tears from rising. Make a difference. He had chosen progress, a future that didn’t involve you. It had to be for the greater good, but what of the cost? What of you?

He paused, his eyes tracing the jagged streaks that marred your skin. "I never meant for you to suffer..." The words felt like a weight, but a hollow one. Did he really not know? Did he really not understand?

“Let me help you, моя любовь” he said, his voice lower now, tinged with an almost imperceptible sadness. The words, though calm, seemed to hang between you like a fragile bridge, barely holding together the tension of the moment. “Please,” he whispered again, his hands guiding your face to look up at him, he was do close, and she could only see his eyes and the honesty in them. “Let me help you heal,” Viktor said, his voice low and steady. His hands hovered just above yours, close enough for you to feel a faint warmth radiating from him.

You opened your mouth, wanting to protest, to tell him that it was too late for help, too late for any of this. But before you could speak, his hands gently guided your face upward, urging you to meet his gaze. His touch was softer than you expected, a stark contrast to the cold metal of his body, and you found yourself obeying, despite every instinct screaming at you to look away, to run. His face was close now, and all you could see were his eyes—those sharp golden pupils that had once been full of warmth and promise, now shadowed by something that seemed impossibly ancient. But the honesty in them, the rawness in the depths of his gaze, pulled at something deep within you. You wanted to look away, but you couldn’t. There was a weight in his stare that felt like the entire world had shifted between you, and in that space, you felt the unbearable tug of both pain and longing. The crowd—those few still watching—seemed to hold their breath in silence, as though caught in the web of your silent exchange. But they were nothing more than shadows, now. Viktor’s presence consumed everything, and the murmur of voices around you seemed distant, irrelevant, as though this was the only moment that mattered. The air between you felt charged, alive with every unsaid word, every question that had been left unanswered for so long. Your mind screamed in protest, telling you that you had every right to hate him, to demand an explanation for his absence. But his hands, steady and certain, held your face with a tenderness that seemed to erase every barrier you had built. And as you stared into his eyes, something inside you began to crumble.

The dam inside you had cracked, and the words spilled out—fragile, trembling, as if saying them aloud might shatter what little remained of your composure. "Please... Help me..." You begged, your voice barely above a whisper, but thick with a desperation you could no longer conceal.

For a moment, Viktor remained silent, his gaze softening further, his eyes reflecting a weight of regret and longing that mirrored your own. It was as if the weight of your words landed on him with the same crushing force they had on you. The air between you was thick with every unsaid word, every wound that had never been healed, every second of the years they'd been apart. Your mind screamed in protest, telling you that you had every right to be angry, to demand answers for the years of abandonment. But his hands, steady and sure, cradled your face with a tenderness so soft, it began to blur the lines between what you wanted to believe and what you had to face.

His skin seemed to hum with an energy all its own, glowing faintly in a deep purple hue that emanated from his underneath his skin. The strange warmth of Arcane energy filled the space between you, vibrant and charged with an ethereal power. Slowly, Viktor extended his hand toward your forehead, his cold, metal fingers hovering just above your skin.

You held your breath, feeling the weight of his presence, of the years that had passed, all of it converging in this single moment. His eyes fluttered shut, and with the gentleness of a prayer, his fingers pressed to your skin.

The hum of energy intensified, filling your ears with a soft but insistent buzz that seemed to reverberate through your very bones. The air around you seemed to stir, light swirling and pulling at the fibers of your being. It was as if he was pulling something from deep within you, all the grief, all the regret, all the pain that had carved its way into your soul and body.

Your body tensed with the sensation, but you could do nothing but surrender to it, to the almost overwhelming energy coursing through your veins. You closed your eyes, a soft sigh escaping your lips as the purple light that surrounded you began to fade, replaced by a soft, golden glow.

When Viktor finally withdrew his hand, the silence was profound, as if the world itself held its breath. He opened his eyes, his gaze lingering on you with an intensity that was both reverent and filled with sorrow. There was no need for words now—the weight of everything unsaid between you was carried in the soft warmth of the healing light that lingered on your skin. You opened your eyes slowly, staring at him in a daze, your breath shallow. Five faint golden prints appeared on your forehead, marking the place where the darkness had been lifted from your soul. You could feel the weight of the past slip away, and with it, a quiet peace began to settle in your chest. You had been cleansed—by him, by the herald.

Before you could speak, before the silence could stretch any longer, he stepped closer. His hand gently cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly against the smooth, healed skin as if to verify the change, despite a bead of sweat dripping from his forehead from the toll taken on him by the healing process.

“Forgive me, Душа моя, I was foolish to ever abandon you. I never once stopped thinking of you.” His words hung in the air, and for the first time, you allowed yourself to believe him. The walls that had held you together, kept you from falling apart, were crumbling now. You didn’t know how, but in that moment, you knew it was time to let go.

And then, as if time slowed, he leaned forward, his lips hovering just above yours. His breath mingled with yours, warm and faint, his gaze fluttering from your lips to your eyes, as if pleading to continue—reassuring you, before he closed the distance, pressing his lips gently against yours in a kiss that was both soft and desperate, as an unspoken apology.

For a brief, fragile moment, you allowed yourself to fall into it—the warmth of the connection, the touch. The kiss was a promise, a frail bridge across the years, and, as it ended, you were left breathless, your mind still hazy with the remnants of the energy that cleansed you. You leaned into him, your forehead gently resting against his as you both shared the same quiet breath. The world around you seemed to fade, leaving only the two of you in that brief, delicate moment of peace.

“And I.. never stopped loving you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible but filled with all the years of longing, of pain, of hope for what would come next, but also with fear that he'd leave again now.

Viktor didn’t speak. He didn’t need to. His gaze said everything. The weight of the years apart, the hurt, the anger—it was all there, but it no longer felt insurmountable. There was a chance now. A chance to heal together beyond the physical sense.

And for the first time in years, you allowed yourself to believe in that possibility.

You looked down, your fingers tracing the cold, metallic surface of his chest, which now seemed more like of a machine than of a man. The once familiar warmth had been replaced by an alien chill, but there was still a pulse beneath your fingertips—an unmistakable sign that the man you loved was still alive, still with you, though in a form you hardly recognized. The shock of the moment was starting to settle, and with it came an overwhelming tide of questions, each more urgent than the last. You could feel it, deep in your bones: something was wrong. The Viktor you had loved, the one who had gone to Piltover with dreams of advancing technology, was now unrecognizable—not just in his appearance, but in the very essence of who he had become.

Your breath caught as your gaze lifted to meet his. His golden eyes, now swirling with an iridescent glow, were far removed from the gentle warmth you had once known. This was not the same Viktor who had whispered sweet nothings in your ear, the one who had shared dreams and doubts with you. This... this was something else entirely.

Your fingers brushed his cheek, where the same marks now marred his skin—marks not unlike those of the people he healed. It was as if he had become one of them, a vessel for something greater. A soft sigh escaped you as you met his gaze again, those golden eyes dancing with a glow that was foreign to the Viktor you had known. The eyes that once held tenderness and love now glimmered with a distant, almost otherworldly intensity. You reached up, your hand trembling slightly as it traced the sharp contours of his face—marked with the same strange symbols. The transformation was complete, yet the man beneath it still seemed to long for something, something you weren’t sure you could understand.

The question escaped your lips before you could stop it, tender and filled with unspoken desperation, and a hint of pity behind your gaze. “Oh, Viktor... What happened to you?”

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