#viktor arcane gif pack

[pfpanimes]

⌕ league of legends/arcane - viktor.

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[mx-pastelwriting]

𝙑𝙞𝙠𝙩𝙤𝙧 (𝘼𝙧𝙘𝙖𝙣𝙚) 𝙂𝙞𝙛 𝙋𝙖𝙘𝙠 #1

Viktor in Arcane (2021) Voice Actor Harry Lloyd

♥ mx-pastelwriting does consent to their gifs being used. Do not claim as the maker of these gifs. ALL FREE TO USE (DO NOT CLAIM) REMEMBER TO CREDIT.

[spxllcxstxr]

While You Were Sleeping • J&V

(Gif not mine)

Request: recently discovering your arcane works has seriously made my week, your writing is amazing! if you're still taking reqs, can I pls request a jayvik x they/them reader fic? while viktor and jayce are sleeping soundly at night for once, reader surprises them by coming home unexpectedly. they're also a scientist but travels a lot for work, which leads them to be deeply missed by the two. reader gently nuzzles and kisses them until they realize that they're back! just a very sleepy and loving reunion with these three. I need some healing after the jayvik finale in S2 ;_; thank youu :) — anon

Summary: Coming back late at night from your trip, you didn’t expect to find Jayce and Viktor asleep in your shared bed

Warnings: gn!reader, implied scientist reader, it's just fluff guys lol, no dialogue until the last like third lmao

Word Count: 1.5k

A.N: title is a laufey song 🥴, I hope you enjoy!!!

•

You sigh, heaving your heavy travel bags behind you as you climb up the stairs in front of you. Muttering to yourself, you curse at the amount of things you packed for your trip outside of Piltover. You hadn't gone too far for your research this time, and yet past you decided to pack your entire wardrobe and then some.

The keys to the apartment you shared with your lovers dangle precariously from your pants pocket. At first you thought about heading straight to the lab, considering that was where you would no doubt find Jayce and Viktor, but after days of travel, all you wanted was to be home. The two of them would eventually get home anyway, whether it be just passed midnight or just after dawn, so you determined that there was no harm in settling back in your apartment first.

The lights are off when you enter your apartment, the tick-tocking of the old grandfather clock the only sound echoing in the room as the pendulum swings back and forth. Papers filled with equations and scientific illustrations are strewn across every surface. You huff, rolling your eyes. Your apartment looked exactly as you left it weeks ago. Eyes finally adjusting to the familiar darkness, you also spot a few empty coffee mugs scattered all over and jackets draped across every chair. This was certainly home.

With your bags still in your hands, you continue through your decently sized apartment. You had this place memorized at this point, so walking through it in the dark was simple. You knew exactly where the couch Jayce picked out before even moving in was and where Viktor's oddly shaped bookcase was. The comforting familiarity of your home makes warmth spread through your chest; this was something you, Jayce, and Viktor created together from scratch--it meant more to you than any other place in Runeterra, even the ones vital to your research.

You head straight to your bedroom, the desire to fall into your own bed and drift off to sleep overwhelming at this point.

The room is dark when you enter except for the few white rays of moonlight filtering in through the window. Viktor's cane rests against the nightstand on his side of the bed, metal gleaming in the light.

You furrow your brows in confusion, Viktor being home shocking to you. The lab was practically a second home to Jayce and Viktor. Before dating them, they would spend almost every hour of every day there, tinkering with their inventions. Since starting the relationship, Jayce and Viktor tried really hard to break their habit of spending so much time in their lab, which they were largely successful at. With you away for weeks, however, you knew that they tended to take advantage of it and revert back into their previous mindset.

With the cat away, the mice will play, after all, as they say.

Still at the threshold with you bags at your sides, your eyes land on your two lovers laying in bed.

Viktor is curled up beside Jayce, who softly snores against your partner's hairline. You stop at the end of the bed, the tension in your shoulders easing up at the scene before you. Though two blankets cover them, the tips of Viktor's long fingers peek out from the top, showing that his hand is splayed lightly against Jayce's chest, right over his heart.

In the pale moonlight, your lovers look ethereal. The light drapes them in a silvery hue, the luminosity a stark contrast from the rest of the dark room. Jayce and Viktor, with their skin bathed in radiance, are oblivious to your tender gaze.

Smiling softly you feel your heart melt in your chest. This was what you especially missed on your travels. The beds you always wound up in were empty and cold. No amount of blankets piled atop your figure could mimic the warmth Jayce radiated, nor could any pillow replace the comfort of his chest against your cheek. Viktor wasn’t there to hold your hand in his sleep either. There were no golden or amber eyes brightened by the early sunlight gazing at you when you woke up either. You had grown accustomed to the comforting presence of your lovers over the years that you always forget how lonesome travelling could be.

It was a privilege to be able to travel across Runeterra for your research, you knew that; but the absence of your lovers late at night always made you dreadfully homesick.

Quietly, you move around the room in order to change into something better suited for bed. As you change, bags still abandoned near the door, waiting to be unpacked, your partners continue to sleep.

Changed into more comfortable clothes, you ease into bed, slipping underneath the blankets. Viktor continues to mumble incoherently while Jayce shifts, his snoring easing up like he senses your presence. You drape an arm across his chest, fingertips brushing against Viktor's. With your body pressed close to Jayce's, you place kisses along his jawline, the smell of his aftershave lingering on his skin.

Again, he shifts against you, head turning slowly to face you.

"Wha's goin' on?" Jayce sleepily mumbles, eyes slowly opening. The moonlight must be harsh on his bleary eyes because it takes a moment or two for him to fully grasp his surroundings.

His gaze locks onto your own, eyes widening as a grin slowly appears across his face. That small but noticeable gap between his two front teeth has you mirroring his smile tenfold. His brown hair is messy from moving around in his sleep, loose strands dangle in front of his face as he raises his head from the pillow.

"You're home early!" You can tell that he's just barely containing his excitement--he's hardly whispering and already shifting under Viktor's grasp in order to get closer to you.

Before you’re able to respond, Jayce’s lips are on yours, kissing you like his life depends on it. An arm wraps around your midsection, hand resting against the small of your back, and pushes you impossibly closer to himself. You can feel his heart beat beneath his white shirt.

“Gods, I missed you…” He says after pulling away. His eyes shine as he scans over your face as if he’s forgotten what you looked like in only a few weeks.

“I missed you too, Jay…” A hand rises to gently stroke his cheek, something he leans into.

A disgruntled noise erupts from behind your partner and you both turn to check up on Viktor.

Disrupted from his sleep, Viktor playfully glares at the two of you. To anyone else it would appear as though Viktor was absolutely livid with the rude awakening, but you and Jayce knew him better than anyone else; he was happy you were home safe, happy that he could feel complete once again.

"You two truly are incapable of whispering, hm?" His voice is deeper, accent thick with each syllable.

Viktor just looks tired, his pale skin is accompanied by dark bruises under each eye. It certainly looks as if he's spent every hour at the lab recently.

"Hello to you too, Vik. I missed you very much." You tease, leaning over Jayce to capture Viktor's lips.

"I missed you very much, sweetling..." He huffs, moving closer to Jayce in order to meet your lips half way.

Jayce settles on the bed between you, back pressed against the mattress and opens both of his arms for you and Viktor to cuddle into.

"You'll have to tell us all about your adventures---" Jayce starts, fingertips dancing lazily against your back.

"It wasn't like it was a vacation, Jay, I still had work to do." You cuddle closer to Jayce, the warmth radiating from his body making you yawn tiredly. Viktor, though dressed in a comfortable long sleeved shirt with two blankets on top of him, does the same, hoping to take all his partner's body heat for himself.

"Sure, but you were not stuck in the Academy's dungeon staring at the hex gem for hours upon hours upon hours..." Viktor sleepily trails off, his face already buried in the crook of Jayce's neck.

You pull the blankets up to your neck and place a hand on top of Viktor's, which rests on Jayce's chest. His fingertips are cold as ice, as they usually were. You feel your eyelids start to droop, each blink getting longer.

"Why don't we go to sleep, darling? You can tell us all about it in the morning. Maybe me and Vik could spend the day outside of the lab and get some fresh air." Jayce whispers, sensing your exhaustion.

You hum as he kisses the top of your head. He murmurs something along the lines of "goodnight" and "I love you," but it all becomes a blur as you drift off to sleep; finally in your own bed in your own home surrounded by your partners.

•

[that-salty-ghost]

As Above, So Below | Chapter 29: Exceptions| Viktor [Arcane] // Male Reader | Rating: M Throughout

Word Count: ~4.9k Summary: Viktor pushes your buttons until he's busy with other activities Tags: swearing, sexual tension, flirting, kissing, mage-y stuff Last Chpt: First Aid

Check my pinned post for more details/previous chapters/etc.

Some silent moments pass as you finish patching Viktor up—thankfully without further mention of the kind of effect he has on your nervous system.

The wind still howls, the snowstorm still rages on, but the two of you couldn’t be bothered inside these walls.

The air settles easily between you as you trail off into lighter conversations—Viktor’s voice dropping low and gentle as he tells you more about the little things that shape his life.

Like how he loves crossword puzzles, the sound of birds singing in the morning, and skipping stones on the water at dusk. That he likes to have something to sip on when he finds time to cook. That he hates public speaking. That he’s trying to stop picking at the callouses on his palms when he fidgets.

You share your own quirks and stories too—telling him about your ever-growing record collection, how Jeff followed you home from the Freljord, how you can’t dance for shit but know your way around the pole at the brothel.

You tell him that you don’t particularly miss your father, but you do miss his war horse. That you also prefer cooking with a drink in hand, and that you’ve been meaning to finish a puzzle that Viktor said he spotted at R&R’s.

When he politely asks if he can help you with it, you’re not sure how anyone could ever tell this man no when his eyes are beaming with that much excitement.

Which is also why you don’t have the heart to tell him that it’s not finished because deep down, you hated that puzzle down to its microscopic, way-too-identical, 3,000-piece guts.

It hurt your back to bend over it for so long, it was likely missing a minimum of a dozen pieces at this point, hell—even the image of some obscure landscape didn’t even pique your interest.

But Viktor does.

And who were you to rob him of the little things that he found joy in. To rob yourself of more time that you could spend with him.

Of course you agree.

You’re about to cap the salve and pack it up when Viktor’s question shifts the conversation back to everything that’s just transpired.

“Does ehh…anyone else know about you? About what you can do?” His question comes quietly and you’re not sure you’ll ever get use to how tender his voice sounds when he’s curious about something sensitive.

“Remy. And my fence…friend?...” You tinker with that title mentally before shrugging the semantics away. “…but I uh…I don’t think he remembers.” You scoff under your breath at that probability.

“What?” His brow quirks and you realize Viktor doesn’t know anything about Kass. “I’m failing to see how this is a forgettable experience.”

You’re amused that he’s more curious about the man’s memory rather than his questionable occupation, but try to answer all the same. “Kass uh…frequently dips into the pool of mind-altering substances.”

“Ah,” The machinist offers a small smile and a “Yes, I suppose that would do it.” to let that fact lie for now.

You offer a weak grin in return and try to give him a little more context. “He’s the one that said to ditch my backpack for the shoulder suspenders.”

“The one who said you would look like a workaholic?”

“That’s him.”

“Hm.”

He pauses with that information and you try to decipher where his mind went. Rather than pry, you just give him a little more. “He can be a lot. Definitely has some demons hot on his heels, but I think you would like him.”

“If he suggested that you wear those suspenders, I already do.”

Before you light up the room for the third godsdamned time you pull your hand from Viktor’s and let the glow slowly subside from your fingertips. You quickly eye the leather accessory in the corner of the room, still drying out near the fire when Viktor’s voice pulls your attention back to him.

“So, I’m only the third person who knows…that you’re a mage, I mean.”

His reversion back to the original topic at hand is not unwelcome. You nod, the realization finally hitting you that you’ve allowed this crush of three days in on one of the most vulnerable parts about you. A choice your father would’ve punished you for. Something he would’ve said would be the death of you if you didn’t put Viktor down first.

But you sit calmly, confident in your decision being the right one.

“I just…for both of our safety, have to ask you not to tell anyone else…I know that’s not fair—”

“Of course that’s fair.” He interrupts your incoming trail of apologies and you feel that his fingers shifted from his leg to the side of your knee. “And you have my word.” His swift understanding only furthers your conviction and your father’s voice immediately fades from your mind. “Though, I’m curious—with so few people that know—what made you trust me?”

“It was…kind of a gut feeling…?”

“Sharing something that personal is driven by your microbiome?”

“It’s hard to describe.”

“Try me?”

He clearly wants more, still not sure if you’re being completely honest. You try to explain it better.

“I used to think it was my mother looking out for me. I’m not so sure about that. Maybe it's just intuition, but…sometimes I get this…pull. I don’t have a better word but it’s strong. And I know I can trust it…so I know I can trust you too…”

Viktor’s expression softens and he seems to understand despite your poorly worded explanation. You reach for a washrag to dab up any excess salve and it hits why you showed the other man what you could do in the first place.

“This happened when you tripped up that pickpocket didn’t it?” You reach for his arm to assess his wrist one more time, feeling good about your work after checking for any residual inflammation.

Feeling good about having an almost-normal excuse to hold his hand again as well.

Viktor inhales through his mouth which quickly turns into a lopsided grin. He pauses, pressing his lips back together again without saying a word and flicks his gaze from your hands back up.

Feeling his eyes on yours, you stop what you’re doing to glance up at him. In an instant you realize his boyish ‘I’ve been caught’ expression has probably kept him out of trouble in many instances. Endearing was an understatement you think to yourself as your voice wavers.

“You’ve been sore all night?” The space in between your brows pinch together as that thought sinks in.

“That wrist is usually sore by the end of every night.” Viktor shrugs offhandedly like it was nothing for him until you catch him peering at his cane in the corner of your eye. You wondered quietly if that was the cause of said everyday soreness.

“Why didn’t you say something?”

“I didn’t want to ruin the night.”

“Ruin the night? You didn’t capsize a boat.”

“That didn’t ruin the night.”

“This certainly wouldn’t have either.”

A quiet “Hm.” is all he mumbles as he notices you’ve finished up. There’s a small selfish part of you that wants to pretend like you’re still working so you can keep his hand in yours awhile longer, but you loosen your grip as a signal that it was fine to move.

“How’s that feel? Any better?”

Viktor lifts his hand to stretch out his fingers, eyes widening after he experimentally rolls out his wrist. The disbelief that surfaces in his expression evident as he turns his hand with ease. “It—yes much more than usual…” He eyes the salve then your hand before his gaze finds yours again. “How…is that possi—?” The wily expression that plagues you gives Viktor pause, apprehensively tilting his head, jaw still slack with a brow arched. “…What…?”

“Just thinking about what it would’ve been like if you would’ve told me sooner.” It’s the first time you’ve thrown a little shade at Viktor. You know the man is quick, but you weren’t fully prepared for how he fully throws it right back.

With a toothy grin, he scoffs. Pressing his tongue to cheek and begrudgingly nodding at your comment with an “Ah…” Viktor’s demeanor shifts into something more playful, catching you completely off guard when he abruptly stands without warning. You reflexively scoot back, nearly falling off of the footrest as you do. He only gives you a teasing shrug—you can practically hear the sarcastic “whoops” he wants to say before he makes his way towards the door.

Your brows furrow as you get up to shadow him, a puzzled grin forming more fully with each step. “What are…” A chuckle escapes you as you try to figure out what he’s up to. “Where are you going now?”

“Oh.” He turns his head like he isn’t aware that he has you perfectly confused, motioning to the door with brows raised in feigned innocence. “Just thinking about taking mistress Linda up on that sleepover she so graciously offered.”

“Mistress Lin—is that actually her name?” Amusement seeps into your tone at his empty threat of joining the woman who recently propositioned him.

“Sure.”

“Suuure?” You watch Viktor bite back a laugh as you call him out. “You don’t know her name, but you’re ready to jump into bed with her?” You muse as you take a step closer to him. “You don’t seem the type.”

“I’ve been known to make exceptions.” He reaches for the doorknob, giving you a lighthearted challenge before shrugging nonchalantly. “And I’ve done worse.” The way he delivers the line, you have to believe him. And the pause it gives you is palpable.

You stand speechless for a moment while he cocks a brow at you to test his honesty. But you do no such thing. You’re not sure how far he’s gone with anyone, but you begin to realize that he may have more experience than you might’ve initially anticipated.

And based on the sly smile beginning to weave into lips that you imagine would look much better in between your teeth…you figure your theory is likely correct.

As he slowly starts to tease apart your self-control, you had to admit, Viktor has you wrapped around his little finger when he’s like this.

Crafty and collected and completely merciless with keeping you on your toes.

Toying with you and testing the waters to see if you were willing to go toe-to-toe with him.

And while your elusive confidence usually made it difficult to find the right words when he was around, wit was a game that brought it back to the forefront.

So, you bite.

“You could also do better.”

Secretly, you’re just as taken aback as Viktor looks as soon as the words leave your mouth. But still, you double-down and take a step towards the man whose hand is now slowly slipping off of the door’s handle. He collects himself with a small nod—a touché before starting to level with you.

“So, your intentions were to bed me in a cheap room after all?”

“Bed you?” You repeat back, his choice of words throwing you for a loop before you pick at the details of his accusation. “Viktor, this is far from cheap.”

“You’re not denying it?”

“Denying what?”

His small turn on his heels draws you a little closer, clearly not backing down from this subtle dance as he quips back.

“If you want to play coy you should’ve stayed in the river.”

“Coy…was that a fish pun?”

“You do seem to love those.”

His crooked grin adequately accents his unfortunately true accusation…you do appreciate the occasional tasteful pun.

“Clearly not as much as you seem to love Linda.”

It wasn’t your best counterpoint. You were struggling with your rebuttal after taking another step and catching the familiar scent of smoke from the stove and cardamom from Viktor. The smallest hint of herbal soap from his damp hair and the crisp outside air from the cracked window. Each aroma clashing beautifully against the other—stunning your senses into understanding the proximity closing in.

“We’re just going to talk, her and I.”

Ohhhh, you could kick yourself for that stupid fucking slip up right about now.

You understand exactly what he’s doing with his reclamation of your words. He wants to hear you say it. Wants to hear what you want. Wants to watch you grapple for control of this back-and-forth, of your flawed logic.

Wants to see you squirm when he fully turns to face you, his chest almost bumping against yours as he straightens his back.

You give in, allowing him to entertain the meaning as much as he’d like.

“I think your mouth might be too busy for that.”

Your new favorite color returns in earnest, staining his cheeks more quickly than he can hide it.

Look at that, you’re back in control.

His smug grin quickly dissolves into hushed breaths, lips parted when you subtly steal a glance at them only to find that he’s trying to steal a glance at yours as well.

Your heart betrays its sure rhythm…until the other man decides to join you in playing coy, instantly dragging you back into another rapid-fire exchange.

“Whatever do you mean, [Y/n]?”

“I’ll tell you when you’re older.”

“Quite the smart ass.”

“Quite the smart tongue.”

“In more ways than you know.”

“Lucky Linda.”

“Unlucky you.”

“Unlucky…me?”

Your voice breaks quietly before you drop your gaze—taking in the meaning behind bold words and wondering how much weight was behind them until he solidifies it.

“Mmhm.”

Slowly succumbing to the familiar feeling of defeat as Viktor gets the upper hand of your repartee. Your eyes dart aimlessly over him as you try to pull your thoughts together in a desperate attempt to gain it back.

He catches your pause and quirks a brow, looking quite pleased to have you reeling under his words. With a sigh of exaggerated disappointment complete with a quick click of his tongue, he adds fuel to your fire just as easily as the hearth he’s fed.

“And here I thought you had a knack for getting what you wanted.”

Gods you wanted that. Wanted to push him right up against that fucking door. Wanted to close the gap between you, wipe that sly smirk off his face, and make better use of his quick tongue. Wanted to prove that his assumption about you was correct—that you were a person capable of going for what you wanted…or even that you could be for that matter.

For him at least…you wanted to be.

But there you stood. Wrestling with doubt and nerves and ego as you showed the icicles forming on the windowsill what it really means to be frozen in place.

Then it hits you. That small, hushed piece of information that slipped from the other man’s lips not so long ago.

You decide to take one more stab, relying on Viktor’s integrity when he dismissed mistress whoever-the-fuck within your earshot.

“And here I thought you were exactly where you wanted to be tonight.”

Loosening fingers fall the rest of the way from the handle only to be pressed flat against the door behind him. His knuckles carve white into the back of the hand that grips his cane a little bit tighter now. It’s small, subtle—but proof that you’ve rattled his relatively unflappable demeanor.

Something in him changes and at first you struggle to decipher it. His muscles look tense, particularly the ones in his shoulders as he makes an effort to hold his head high even with his back literally and metaphorically against the wall. You can’t tell if he’s surprised that you heard that part of their conversation, or if the meaning behind that sentence actually scared him.

When he pushes his weight off the door it takes every ounce of your being to stay collected. To maintain eye contact with a gaze that was becoming all too easy to drown in. To shake the shiver rolling down your spine when he answers you.

“I am…”

He speaks with confidence but the way honeyed eyes are frantically searching yours says otherwise. Uncertainty becomes apparent as he watches you watching him, his head dipping slowly downward with growing apprehension as he finishes his sentence softer than before.

“…well…almost.”

His breathing gets shaky, stuttering in his chest as it rises and falls. Uncertainty is one thing, but you’re realizing it’s more than that.

“Almost?”

He’s nervous.

“Almost.”

Just like you.

…

But unlike you,

“Where…would you rather be…?”

Nerves don’t get in the way of what he wants.

…

…

…

“…here.”

Viktor’s voice softens and before you can speculate—before he has a chance to change his mind—he leans forward to close the gap separating you.

His lips press against yours with a tenderness that stuns you into place. He’s unhurried. Resolute. Like kissing you was the most natural thing in the world for him.

Like he was in fact, exactly where he wanted to be for the night.

Regardless of his finesse, your body goes rigid as you reflexively grab ahold of his forearm for support.

…Which he doesn’t seem to mind in the slightest.

He returns your stiff grip with a tentative touch—his fingers extending lightly along the underside of your arm—soothing you despite the tight hold you have on him.

It’s such a small, soft motion…but it settles you. Immediately for that matter. That’s when it hits you that Viktor was actually right about what he said earlier.

Time really had no place when he was with you.

In the span of a sharp breath, you don’t know at which point your eyes fluttered shut. Or when you stopped thinking. Let alone when you stopped breathing. When your grip loosened, when your jaw unclenched. When your worries lifted into nothingness.

When the noise settled and everything finally felt…still.

Something you haven’t felt in years…

And just in time for Viktor to pull away.

As you feel him shift his weight back you all but catch yourself from greedily leaning forward. Leaving you looking practically starved, and clearly craving more than a mere sample…as delicious as it was.

Not yet ready to relinquish the small peck, your eyes hold onto what your lips couldn’t.

Doused with the same state, Viktor’s own lips remain parted, likely still lingering with the sensation of having yours pressed against them. A sensation it seemed he also wasn’t quite ready to surrender by the looks of it.

When your eyes meet, heavy and cautious and equally full of need for the other, Viktor tilts his head just slightly. His dark brows furrow, knitted with contemplation or curiosity—maybe both. But you recognize the purpose behind that look.

He’s trying to read you.

And rivaling the very book you pulled from the shelf, you let him.

He easily pages through your wanting expression, mulls over your body language until you catch him glance back at your mouth with a gaze that transitions from reserved to ravenous in a blink before meeting your eyes again.

Neither of you say a word. Neither of you have to.

He just quirks a brow at you.

Quicker than usual.

More intentional.

Not at all the expression you’ve seen when something has piqued his curiosity. Or when he’s wanting more insight that was initially provided.

No, this was something else.

This was a wordless way to say, ‘your move’. An affirmation that there could be more if you wanted it. Wanted him.

This wasn’t a request for more information.

It was a request for more…of you.

…

Maybe it’s just your imagination, but in the corner of your eye, you could’ve sworn you saw one of the icicles break away from the sill.

…

Turns out you’re tired of being frozen too.

Finally, you move—leaning forward and tipping your head to catch Viktor’s lips more fully than before. You can hear him inhale sharply at the sudden contact, can picture his brows pinching together in concentration…

…can feel his back hit the wall with a resounding ‘thud' as your actions come a bit more rushed than you intended. A soft “mmph” escapes from his lips to yours at the impact, his hand jerking from your forearm to your delt for balance, but he doesn’t break the kiss.

Still, you consider pulling back to make sure he’s alright. To apologize for quite literally throwing yourself at the other man. You place your hands against the surface on either side of his hips, bracing to push yourself away.

But his arm wraps around your shoulders instead—pulling you closer and reassuring you that he’s okay. That this is okay.

…more than okay.

It doesn’t seem like his first kiss, and it definitely isn’t yours, but judging by how much you both have clearly been wanting this, it might as well be.

Your hands are clumsy when you blindly reach for his waist—scraping your knuckles on the wooden door as you add to the symphony of thuds pounding against it.

And Viktor’s moments are no smoother.

Abandoning his support, his palm warms your cheek as slender fingers splay wildly against your ear and neck. You can feel him straining, his digits curling slightly before releasing—like he was holding onto his self-control by a thread. Fighting with himself from being too rough with you.

Too hungry for you.

Too consumed by you to care that his actions are quickly followed by a boisterous clank as his cane hits the floor.

…Which only seems to spur you both on.

Viktor’s lips crash against yours again and again. Each kiss becoming more desperate than the last with each breath sounding harsher in between. Your need for each other easily outweighing the desire to come up for air as the sound of huffs fill the room.

A small experimental press into your shoulder has you shift your stance, staggering your legs in between Viktor’s to accommodate the slight imbalance. You can feel his weight begin to fully settle onto you and you happily hold him against the door while his other hand drifts from your cheek.

Inch by agonizing inch his hand trails downwards—reading the lines that have shaped your history and sculpted your features like brail under his fingertips. His touch is cautious…curious—moving carefully over your chest, following each curve that dips around tense muscles and scars that never healed quite right.

You sigh into him while he explores you, pausing his pursuit on the raised line left from a bullet grazing you the day your parents died. He tables the questions churning in his mind to tilt his head and kiss you deeper.

Soothe your old wounds with magic of his own.

He presses his lips to yours more gently than the last time, slowing the adrenaline-fueled pace before you feel the featherlight touch of his tongue brushing along your lower lip. Your breath hitches as you savor how soft he is with you. How his movements are so delicate despite the tangible desire brimming just beneath their surface.

It’s quite the dichotomy. Strong enough to knock the air out of you.

In the form of a moan, sure. Which Viktor gladly muffles when he feels you part your lips for him. His tongue eagerly begins to dance with yours, moving slowly at first while he gets use to you before easily falling into a back and forth of give and take.

The thin fabric of his shirt leaves little to the imagination as your own hands begin to wander, running up his back before languidly trailing down again. He arches into your touch—pulls you closer while you start to memorize the curvature of his spine, the edges of his shoulder blades, the indents of his hips.

It’s effortless—getting lost in Viktor. His skin radiates a warmth that draws you in like a moth to a flame. You can’t help but consider the likelihood of his rising temperature being a byproduct of the arcane that recently resonated inside of him.

And that gives you an unexpected rush that you can’t explain.

Something along the lines of he can understand you on a base level that no one else has been able to even come close to reaching. Knows what it’s like to have something entirely unruly course through his veins without a compass or care. Knows the static and heat and tension and release of it all.

A micro-dosed version of it, sure.

A micro dose is more than enough in a world sober of magic. And more than enough to fully lose your inhibitions with him.

Deft fingers drag slow as molasses along your stomach, rippling over the contours that are already wound tightly in knots. You can feel him hum approvingly, clearly enjoying how your muscles tense under his teasing.

But not as much as you enjoy the sound he makes when you catch his lip between your teeth.

It’s a hushed groan caught in the crosshairs of surprise and pleasure. Barely above a murmur, but audible evidence that he’s come a little more undone. You give a light tug and match the subdued sigh that you pull from his lips, warmth blooming in your chest while his fingers dig into your shoulder and abdomen.

When you let go you can feel his smile while he chases evasive breaths, lips catching on yours lightly with each word that passes from them.

“And you…” He chuckles softly before finishing. “…said you don’t bite.” He follows his statement by taking the lead—pushing himself off the door, snaking an arm around your waist, and taking shallow steps to walk you backwards.

“I made…” You grin at his callback, trying to find your breath as well in between kisses and footsteps. “…an exception.”

“Do you make those often?” His voice sounds shot, graveled with passion that grows with each step. “Exceptions…”

“From time to time.” Your ears are burning and you’ve been so caught up in his aftershocks that you barely notice the pressure that’s caused your skimpy ass shorts to get tighter. You reinforce your own voice, playing into his question that you know is alluding to the common rules of a first date. “We’ve already made quite a few…”

“What like…assault?”

His clever response causes you to grin into a small kiss, your tongue teasing his before you correct him. “Well, battery. Technically.”

“That’s…not better.”

After another kiss, another step you manage to answer back with a crime of his own from the evening. “And how about theft?”

A playful nibble on your lip hitches your breath before he hums another rule broken from the list. “Mm. Vandalism.”

Gradually you get use to letting him steer you blind, your movements shifting from an uneven shuffle to steady-ish steps. You figure he trusted you mending him with raw magic—you can trust him not to let you fall on these expensive floors.

Not that you would care at this point anyway.

“Can’t forget about gambling.”

“Of course not.”

The backs of your knees hit the bedframe and you both stop in your tracks.

His focus travels.

Yours follows.

A glance behind you puts the luxe mattress layered with more blankets and pillows than you have in your entire loft into plain view. The implications of what comes after sitting heavy in the air as Viktor’s hands fall to your hips.

Your half-lidded vision is blurred but mesmerized by the way his whiskey eyes drink you in. His gaze moves down your chest and over your stomach until it drops low enough to make your cheeks flush.

“We could…just retire for the night, [Y/n].” His tone gives you all of the comfort in the world that it was okay to do so as he lifts a hand to cradle your cheek. “Falling asleep beside you—” He pauses, a sincere smile pulling at his lips while he imagines what that looks like. “That would be enough for me.”

Kind, warm eyes reflect the honesty behind sweet words. You match his smile and get lost in his touch, leaning into his palm before placing your hand on his. Thin fabric still leaving little to the imagination, you only have to glimpse down for a second to steel your thoughts into a word.

“Unless…?”

“Unless…” Warm ignites into to a smolder, sweet swiftly becomes sultry, and his touch fades from your cheek to fidget with the hem of your shirt.

“You’d like to make one more exception with me…”

----------

A/N: Oh it's HEATIN' UP--thanks to everyone for being patient with this chapter, it took a minute to fully form and write up and I hope it gives some warm fuzzies during these TRYING times :) Also wanted to say hi hello and welcome to any new folks! I am loving every comment, they seriously make my day. I'm so glad y'all are here and hope you enjoy the read! This is definitely a longer fic that started as a comfort read/be a place to visit if you've had a hard day and has turned into an entire story that I'm really excited to continue. I'm not sure how far into season 2 we'll go yet since we still have a few episodes left, but I'll be sure to include some tidbits and little easter eggs regardless of where to story finishes.  Thank you also for the follows, feedback, likes, shares and everything in between. It means the world to me and I'm beyond humbled this lil thing has brought some folks even a little bit of joy.  If you're feeling wild, my ko-fi is linked to my pinned post and in my lil sidebar (no pressure ever, I do this for free and because I love it)...But if there's a dollar in there I will be telling my homophobic dad his son made a buck writing gay smut at the family dinner next week. 

And if that isn't success I don't know what is. Anyway, thank you again for reading and I hope everyone is doing well out there! Cheers, Ghost

[fascinati0nstr33t]

WELCOME TO ANOTHER HEADCANON SHITSHOW🗣️🔥

ARCANE CHARACTERS AND THEIR FAVOURITE VIDEO GAMES

this was requested by @beast-master-talks 🫶, so here it is pookie

Jinx

Splatoon & League of Legends

as mentioned in my first headcanon post, Jinx would be a Splatoon enjoyer

based on her weapons, the Heavy Splatling would be her go to weapon

if not, then the stringer or the dualies

she’s a Deep Cut enjoyer, 100%

enjoys the chaos of the game itself

would spam the taunts and squid party whenever she splats someone

plays with ekko

finds the salmons ADORABLE

is a toxic player…most of the time

and that also applies in League (i haven’t played it-)

would main herself

ultimate trash talker in both games

she just enjoys a game where she can absolutely demolish anyone

honourable mention: Borderlands

Viktor

i need him-

TLOZ: Twilight Princess & Minecraft

i think viktor enjoys open-world games rather than more action packed games

(i’m pretty sure his voice actor harry lloyd said something about zelda in a video)

Twilight Princess would be his favourite out of the other games mostly because of the general aesthetic and how it’s one of the more “darker” games of the franchise

THIS MAN WOULD BE FASCINATED BY THE TWILIGHT REALM, I MEAN-

the fact you can pick up cats is also a bonus

now on the calmer side, minecraft

it’s serves as a distraction

he has a pond of axolotls in honour of rio

has banned jinx from his server cus she blew up his wolf “on accident”

has lost his mind over the redstone

Vi

Street Fighter & The Last Of Us

Street Fighter is pretty much a classic in fighting games, so i think it’s something Vi would enjoy

has had a crush on at least ONE of the female fighters

would use ryu, a known character in the game

has played against Jinx, never doing it again cus they almost tore each other apart

NOW, IN THE CASE OF TLOU-

clickers and bloaters stress her the fuck out

died around 4 times in a row during the first encounter with a bloater

even though she could have weapons or even bricks at her disposal, most of the time she fights with her bare fists

died trying to speedrun the stealth sections because she didn’t have the patience

ellie and joel’s relationship hit a bit too close to home with her

i think she would take a break from the second game after joel’s death, no literally, it would leave her absolutely broken

Caitlyn

Life Is Strange & Fire Emblem

Caitlyn would enjoy Life is Strange due to its theme of moral choices

i think she’d be a bit thrown off by the more supernatural aspects of the game, but she’d enjoy nonetheless

she’s pretty much canonically a detective figure

so i think she’d be pretty satisfied if she manages to uncover something beforehand

has talked about the game to vi, in the same way a fnaf fan would explain the lore

NOW AS FOR FIRE EMBLEM (i know, i’m hilarious-)

the overall aesthetic of her design and the Kiramman house just gave me the game’s vibes, y’know?

the customization of the unit’s skills or classes would appeal to her

the lucina allegations from vi only worsened when she started playing

Ekko

Animal Crossing & BOTW

HE WOULD HAVE THE BEST ISLAND, I KNOW IT

has invited heimerdinger over, sometimes even asked for advice when it came to designing

if he was scammed by tom nook at some point, yeah, get ready for “the boy who shattered the console”

Goldie is his favourite villager (she’s mine too)

built a community similar to the Firelights

now for BOTW, Ekko would be absolutely mesmerised by every single location and sight (minus the guardians)

Rito Village reminds him of the hideout

did try to fight Ganon without the necessary equipment but lost

dyes everything green or brown

a little timebomb thingy, he would name one of his horses after Jinx/Powder, especially if it’s one of the blue horses

gets irritated when the stable won’t accept a peculiar horse (skeleton or lord of the mountain)

bonus: tony hawk pro skater (i don’t need to elaborate)

Mel

Sims 4 & Pokémon Scarlet

she would make the most beautiful houses

her sims would have absolutely LETHAL face cards

however, that doesn’t mean it wouldn’t be absolute chaos from time to time

assassinating her sims would amuse her tbh

YOURE GONNA HAVE TO HEAR ME OUT FOR POKÉMON-

she chooses either fuecoco or quaxly as a starter

her team is full of the most GLAMOROUS pokémon i just know it

gardevoir would be on there for sure

has a shitload of coins and diamonds for evolution

Jayce

(he looks like a wet dog here-)

Detroit: Become Human & FIFA

the story of DBH would have him hooked

just the entire theme of technology would have him interested

but similar to himself, he would have good intentions yet make the most dogshit choices

he would try getting the “good” ending

similar to my headcanon of him quoting Captain Falcon, he would, unironically, say “28 STAB WOUNDS” out of the blue

Jayce is a fife, i just see it that way

despite the game being far more straight to the point, he would enjoy it casually

again, COCKY

if he’s playing with other people, then things will get heated

his team is Barça, it just is

bonus: he plays minecraft with Viktor

I THINK SOME ARE MORE ACCURATE THAN OTHERS BUT EITHER WAY I HOPE YOU ENJOY THIS!

[pluto-supremacy]

Arcane Headcanons: how they spend Valentine's Day with reader

➼ Here are some (very late, my bad) Valentine's Day headcanons for some Arcane characters! If there is a character that I didn't write for and you want them added on, just shoot me an ask and I'll work on it^^

➼ Characters included are: Viktor, Jayce, Mel, Vi, and Caitlyn

➼ Reader is gn except for Vi and Cait, then reader is fem (it's just the rules)

➼ No beta we die like Mylo

➼ Warnings: None! Just as a reminder none of the GIFs are mine, credits to the owners!

Honestly forgot about Valentine's Day with all of his work, spends all day in the lab and largely ignoring you. You'd be lucky to get a glance from him as he worked

Or so you think

After however many hours of work he calls you over to him, spinning around in his chair, proudly showing off what was in his hands. It's a small music box that when wound up played you guy's song. Inside are little memories of all your dates. Pictures, trinkets, anything he could fit in there

"Do you like it? I'm sorry it took that long, the gears weren't meshing together how I needed them to. Happy Valentine's Day, my love"\

He's a total romantic, convince me otherwise

Wakes you up with breakfast in bed (he got it from the breakfast restaurant down the street), gives you a handpicked bouquet (it's mostly weeds, but it's still pretty), and has a dinner booked for the two of you at the nicest restaurant in Piltover

You two finish out the night watching movies and cuddling on the couch, his arms always around you and a blanket covering you both

"Happy Valentine's Day, sunshine. You ready to head out? The reservation is at...god you're gorgeous"

It's a stay in kinda Valentine's Day with Mel. You both have a rare morning of sleeping as long as you want for the day, having to convince yourselves to even get up and get dressed

Once you two are finally up, Mel insists on painting you for the remainder of the afternoon. She poses you on the couch, looking as comfortable as ever, and takes her time painting every detail she can see. She adds herself right next to you of course, and you find a nice spot to hang it once she's done

The night ends with a good homecooked dinner and wine

"Keep still, darling. I'm nearly done here. Your perfection takes time to capture"

She's trying, okay? This is her first Valentine's Day she isn't alone and romance isn't exactly rampant in the Undercity. That doesn't stop her from giving it her all though

She takes you around to all the best spots in the Undercity. Breathtaking views, great street food, anywhere she thinks that you'll like. Vi tries to avoid the more sketchy areas with you to try and keep you out of trouble

The day ends with you two falling asleep in each other's arms while listening to your favorite songs

"Hope you liked today bun, I promise I'll try to do something a bit more grand next year"

Caitlyn has been PLANNING

Though she is still extremely nervous and a bit awkward at first. She just wants to make sure everything goes smoothly. The day is planned to a T. A slow morning, having tea together, going out to rollerskate. Then heading home

To pack for a picnic under the stars! You two spend nearly all night stargazing, grazing on whatever you packed, and cuddling on the blanket

"Out of all the stars out tonight, I have to say I like the one I'm holding the best"

[callooopie]

- welcome to the blog -

Do ppl do these normally? Anyway. I am Calliope (or sbubee via twitch & Twitter) :D, I write things and I hope to start extending my tumblr/social media reach w my twitch channel (that i MIGHT link) ….. Here are things I write for down below. I wanna be mutuals with all y’all. I wanna tweak out and be down bad and post bad fics.

I hope this doesn’t read as a lame ass plug for my socials. That is the opposite of what this is. This is just something I want to pin to the start of my blog as an introductory post 👇

CURRENTLY

I am packing for college. A lack of posting is happening. The drought will end soon pookies. I am sorry for the lack of posting 😪😪😪😪 HOWEVER I will keep the ask box open bc lowkey.. I like when y’all send me things xoxoxo I’ll also get to actual requests when the chaos of packing and moving is over so if you wanna send a request or just something to talk abt I will respond. That is for sure.

What I will write for or talk about👇

HOTD (I have not watched the most recent episode)

Peaky Blinders (I WATCHED THE SHOW TOO LATE THE FANDOM’S DEAD 😭)

Soulsborne (this one’s REALLY dead.. where my Messmer fans at)

Dragon’s Dogma (..hello? Where is everyone… 😭😪)

Star Wars(?) (I have watched a little bit of The Mandalorian. I have played through Jedi Fallen Order. I have seen the hot guy from the latest show)

Arcane (I can’t wait for the Viktor arcane skin to be naked and oiled up)

- links to other socials -

No it’s not a requirement to follow me. I was actually debating putting a lot of this here. I’ll only link the Twitter and the Twitch. I wanna make a chill community and be a part of a chill community. I hope we can all commune and interact together! I am cringe and I barely tweet but I hope to change.

Twitter 👉 @sbubeee

Twitch 👉 twitch.tv/sbubeee

I HOPE WE CAN BECOME GOOD FRIENDS

[conretewings]

The Paths We Cross

-Viktor, needing a part for his newest invention, seeks assistance from a shop of good reputation.

-Set a couple decades before the events of Arcane season one, a young Viktor and my oc Rosemary meet. Just a fun idea I had bouncing around in my head and decided to write for fun and as a gift to the lovely @grumpyoutlaw ❤️

Sticking close to the buildings for safety and an easy escape into a shop if needed was an essential lesson and skill Viktor had learned long ago, one that he was using again this day as he wove his way through the crowded, dank and damp streets. All around vendors hawked their wares from stalls, carts, or even from bulging bags, people milled in front of bars, brothels, or hurried on their way to whatever business they had and everywhere teemed the chaos of the Undercity.

Pausing to re-shoulder his bag to a more comfortable angle across his hip, one where it's weight helped steady his limping gait instead of worsening it, Viktor glanced up at a couple landmarks to note his location and which street to turn down next toward his own destination.

"Let's see...it was-"

Feeling a couple rapid taps on his shoulder, he instinctively clutched his bag and rotated his hand to grip his cane at the perfect angle to defend himself if need be; it wouldn't be the first time.

Whipping his head around at the same moment, he found himself face-to-face with a squat little man in patchwork garb and a seemingly friendly, yet too friendly, grin so wide his crooked teeth poked out. A well-worn bag nearly his size and adorned with various items was strapped to his back, and in his grubby hands something was concealed.

"Greetings, yes most welcome greetings this day young man!" he started in a likely well rehearsed speech, "Tell me yes, tell me, are you hungry? Does your stomach yearn for a tasty morsel? Yearn no more! I have here the solution yes! For a mere two coin I offer the finest fruit one can find!"

With a flourish he opened his hands to reveal an apple clearly past it's prime, brownish soft spots dotting it's surface. Viktor had his suspicions that it likely also housed an insect or two and not wanting to either waste his money, nor evict any possible tenants, he shook his head, managing a polite half smile.

"Thank you sir, but I already ate..."

The man's eye twitched, but maintained his salesman smile, "Goodness my boy but you're thin as that stick you're using yes, poor thing, so thin! Wouldn't a bit of extra food do you well yes? It's such a good deal! A bit of lunch!"

'I'm sure it is, if one wanted to lose their lunch' Viktor thought sarcastically, but carefully started to move away as he said again, "No, thank you, but I wish you luck..."

His smile finally dropping into a sour pout, and grumbling about how he's 'missing out' the man shoved the sad fruit into a pocket and turned to shuffle off. Releasing a sigh of relief, the man's words about his weight nonetheless echoed in Viktor's mind until he bitterly shoved them away and gripping his cane, felt a renewed sense of resolve to find the place he sought and finish the project currently residing in his bag. To that end he stood as tall as possible and went on his way.

A young woman leaned on a heavy, paper-strewn wooden counter with a gnawing sense of boredom, absentmindedly tapping a pencil as she stared at a broken clock she'd been planning to fix sitting next to her. It seemed to reflect and even mock her feeling that time was, in fact, at a standstill. Normally she was proud to be in charge of her family's business, yet today, all she wanted was escape. Looking around the rest of the packed shop with it's shelving and cases of mishmashed parts, half-finished mechanical items, and antiques, nothing sparked her interest. Perhaps she'd dig through the trash again for parts to weld together. That was usually fun. Usually...

Turning her head she shouted, "Dad! Can I shove off early?"

"Absolutely not!" came a bellowed reply from far behind a curtain that served as a divider between the shop and their living quarters, "Your brother has his shift 'n so do you!"

"But I just wanna scrounge up some parts-"

"Birdie, I really need ya to mind the shop. Ya can run about with your friends 'n that beau of yours later! Now lemme finish fixin' the stove please."

She exhaled in exasperation and lowered her head, wishing something, anything would happen. As if by some divine miracle, a few moments later she heard the creak of the heavy door mixed with the musical chime of the bell attached to it. Instantly she snapped into professional mode, standing up tall and putting on a welcoming grin.

"Good day! Wares and Repairs! You break it we can probably fix it! What can we help ya with?"

Using his shoulder to hold the door open while he awkwardly made his way through it, a teen who looked to be around fourteen, though with his prominent limp and slight build it was difficult to tell, let the door shut behind him as he paused to gaze around.

Viktor gaped at the sheer number and amount of items stuffed into the large room which, somehow, was clearly organized in it's own way. Yes, this was certainly the place he'd been told about. The corner of his mouth twitched into a half-smile, feeling a sense of hope and even excitement at the prospects; surely somewhere the treasure he sought lay waiting. So absorbed was he it took a moment for the greeting he'd received to register, and he snapped his attention back to the woman behind the counter.

"Ah, yes, hello," he started, shifting his bag again and approaching, "I've been told this place can fix anything and sells almost anything as well..." planting his good foot for leverage he carefully heaved the bag onto the counter, wincing when a dull metallic thud sounded, "So I would like to know if I could ask for some assistance with this."

"Oh? And what is this?" the woman inquired, her hazel eyes alight with an eager, inquisitive sparkle that somehow set Viktor more at ease. She looked to be somewhere in her mid twenties, with thick chocolate brown hair and clad in well-worn but sturdy looking work overalls, arms covered in bandage wrappings with canvas gloves. Something about her looked very familiar but he couldn't put his finger on it.

Undoing the snaps on the bag, Viktor carefully slid a metal box onto the counter in front of her, a gesture which only seemed to fan her curiosity's flame, as she leaned forward a degree. He turned it around and opened a lid to reveal a carefully painted bird made of tiny pieces of metal and wood atop a wire 'branch'. A hollow area in the center was lined with a worn but still soft piece of velvet.

"A music box!" she inhaled with delight, looking from it to Viktor, "It's lovely! Where did ya get it?"

He cracked another, more proud smile and stood a little straighter, "I made it. It's for my mother, but it's not working yet. Something's off with the gears, and the sound mechanism-"

The woman gaped at him, leaning closer, making to touch it but quickly pulled her hand back, "You-made it?! Freakin' hell lad! This is some sophisticated work!"

The angle at which she was now stooped over the counter accidentally gave Viktor the perfect view of her ample cleavage, an effect that in her enthusiasm she was evidently unaware of. Out of respect and to stop the threat of his cheeks growing warm he quickly flicked his gaze to her face, "Th-thank you. I was hoping you might have the parts and tools I need to complete it."

Grinning she stood, planted her hands on her hips and flicked a stray chunk of hair aside, "If we don't have what ya need, no one does! We've got this ummm," she tilted her head, "Sorry kid what's your name?"

"It's Viktor." he replied with another smile, her energy rubbing off a little, "And you?"

"Name's Rosemary! Now let's get this train movin'!"

It may have been mere minutes, it may have been hours that flew by, neither could truly say nor did they care as they worked together to tear through the shop's extensive collection. Gears and bits and bobs were selected then discarded, or placed on the counter for further inspection until they had a generous pile to work with as they carefully undid the music box's inner mechanisms to test them out.

As they worked they chatted, mostly about their mutual interests in creating or fixing things and experimentation. Rosemary told him the story of her family's business, how her great-grandfather had started it and, proudly, how eventually it would belong to her and her brother. Viktor shared his dreams of scientific discovery, of building new and innovative things to better people's lives.

"I guess we have that in common." said Rosemary softly during a slight lull in conversation.

Viktor lowered the screwdriver he held, "Hmm?"

She gently touched the tiny mechanical bird, "We want to make things better."

Eventually, after a generous amount of trial and error, Rosemary crossed her fingers as Viktor carefully opened the lid-and the bird came to life, spinning and making tinny 'chirping' sounds.

He grinned happily as she cheered with a loud 'woo hoo!' They watched it until the spring-loaded mechanism ran out of tension and the bird's movement ceased.

"Thank you so much for all your trouble," he paused, "And for talking with me. It...means a lot."

"Ya kiddin' me? I've been havin' a great time Viktor!" she chuckled, picking up tools and parts to start putting them away, "I love workin' on stuff! Plus, not everyday I meet someone clever as you!"

He gave a small, unsure laugh as he carefully slipped the box back into his bag and dug into a small coin pouch, counting out what he hoped would be adequate, "I suppose my projects aren't too bad."

Watching Rosemary practically dance about the room with graceful movements and singing softly, that familiarity he'd felt earlier came back, burning at the front of his brain but he still couldn't quite recall where he'd seen her. Shaking his head to focus he held out a hand to her, "Here is my payment. I realize we never discussed it, but this should be enough."

She took the coins, nodding as she counted, "Aye, this'll do..." then cleared her throat, "Actually, I'm not so sure."

Viktor clutched his bag and felt his stomach drop; surely it was adequate for what he'd needed! Was she really not as kind as he'd thought? He didn't really have any more to spare, what about the food he was supposed to pick up on the way home? What about-

Abruptly she snorted, clapping a hand over her mouth, "Ah no I-I was only messin' with ya! It was a joke this is fine! I'm so sorry oh your face lad you're pale as a ghost!"

Releasing the breath he'd been holding in a loud, shaking sigh, he dryly replied, "Yes, yes. Hilarious."

"Tell ya what. I'll make it up to ya; swing by anytime you're workin' on another project and I'll help...and give ya a steep discount. Deal?"

Viktor met her gaze, and seeing the remorse and sincerity there, cracked a slight smile again, "Deal."

"Well, in that case," Rosemary swept an arm around, gesturing to the room, "We thank you for visiting Wares and Repairs and I hope you'll visit us again for your fixin' needs! No guarantees."

He gave a brief laugh, "I'll keep that in mind. Farewell, and thank you again, Rosemary." Securing his bag and adjusting his cane to a more comfortable grip, he headed to the door, and was reaching for the handle-when it unexpectedly flew open, a mountain of a man taking up the entire doorway.

"Oy Rosie! I-oop!"

He skidded to a halt, having just about run smack into Viktor, who gasped sharply, moving quickly but ungracefully to one side before cautiously glancing up. The larger man, who seemed to be about the same age as Rosemary, was looking at him curiously but not unkindly with steel-blue eyes and his thick, muscular arm still held the heavy door open with no apparent effort. He also looked very familiar, but again Viktor couldn't quite place him.

He jerked his head in a 'go ahead' gesture, and Viktor mumbled thanks before quickly starting to walk out. The man was so tall Viktor passed easily under his raised arm.

Pausing in the doorway to readjust his load after that mishap, he watched Rosemary's face light up as the man strode up to her where she had retreated behind the counter and leaned an elbow on it opposite her, the pair engaging in rapid, hushed conversation.

Abruptly he realized where he'd seen the man before; a gathered crowd, indignant shouts, calls for change...and at the center, standing on a pile of crates and junk, there he was. He raised his fist high as his deep voice boomed off the surrounding buildings, two other men at his side. He spoke of pushing back, of standing up for themselves, of a more independent city. Viktor had paused briefly to watch and listen before his father had encouraged him to keep moving. As they left, Viktor heard applause and cheering before the noise faded entirely.

Unexpectedly he felt a seething, burning knot of jealous anger twisting in his gut; this man, with his sheer size and confident charm, probably didn't have to worry about constantly watching his back. He didn't have to hobble around, seeing everyone run about with ease while he was constantly left behind. He probably had lots of friends. He didn't have to hear the whispers, the cruel laughs, the insults. Viktor gripped his cane so hard he thought it may break and spun to leave.

Walking as fast as he could manage, the anger slowly petered out until he only felt a cold numbness where the rage had been, like a lead weight in his stomach. He paused to breathe, finding a relatively safe spot to do so as he gathered his thoughts and tried to calm himself. It wasn't fair, it wasn't fair...

Self-pity was not something he normally indulged in, finding it pointless and unproductive, but for a miserable few minutes couldn't stop the racing thoughts. Why was he like this? Why couldn't he run and jump like others? Why was he always sick? Why had fate pointed it's cruel finger at him?

Looking up, he saw in the distance and high above, the proud spires of Piltover's Academy, the late afternoon sun shining off their facades. Slowly, the anger morphed into steely determination and he made a vow to himself-

Someday, somehow, despite his abilities, despite his origins, he would be in those rooms, gazing out over the city and feeling this same sunlight warming his face as he worked toward his dreams...

[fairy-writes]

>/////< (Super nervous that you did this before and my ADHD has just made me stupid - I even looked and I can't find it if you did do it....) Until I Found You by Stephen Sanchez for Viktor from Arcane pretty pretty please (But if you have done it before, just ignore this! So sorry!)

UNTIL I FOUND YOU

Reblogs and Comments are greatly appreciated!!

__________________________________________________________________________

Fandom(s): Arcane: League of Legends (2021)

Pairing(s): Viktor x Gender Neutral!Reader

Song: Until I Found You by Stephen Sanchez

Notes: This song does use “her” in it, but this is a gender-neutral one-shot.

__________________________________________________________________________

The first time Viktor met you was when he was going through the Academy, not yet Heimerdinger’s assistant, but a mere TA, and you were a student from another class. It was in the dead of winter. 

You were practicing a presentation in the library while he was grading papers. He spotted you out of the corner of his eye, mouthing the words to yourself as you paced in front of your textbooks, using flashcards as a prompt. 

You were stunning. 

Viktor didn’t realize he was staring until you looked over, met his gaze, smiled, and offered a sheepish wave. He quickly turned back to the papers in front of him with a quiet cough and burning ears. From the corner of his eye, he saw you chuckle quietly and found himself enjoying the sound of your laugh.

You approached him after Viktor finished his grading session, and almost everyone was long gone. He packed his books into his satchel, shuffling papers into an orderly pile. 

“Excuse me?” Came your quiet voice, and he turned. You fidgeted with your flashcards, scuffing your feet along the carpet. 

“Yes?” He asked just as softly. You offered him a small smile, and he felt his ears warm again. 

“Could I help you with your books? It looked like you have a lot, and I’d hate for you to have to make a second trip when the library is closing.” You tried, and for whatever reason, he felt himself accepting. 

You carried whatever books he couldn’t fit into his bag and walked beside him. He didn’t miss how you kept pace with him, his cane thumping on the ground slower than usual as the cold made his leg ache. The trip to his dorm was quiet, filled with gentle conversation as you asked him about his experience as a teacher’s assistant. He couldn’t bring himself to ask anything about you, even as you bid him goodbye outside his dorm room.

You were out of his league anyway. 

Georgia, wrap me up in all your...

I want you, in my arms.

Oh, let me hold you

I'll never let you go again, like I did

Oh, I used to say

The second time he saw you was years later. This was after meeting Jayce and after founding Hextech. He hadn’t heard anything about you even as he became Heimerdinger’s assistant. He guessed he wouldn’t anyway. The Academy was so large and had so many students that it was impossible to find anything out about anyone unless he went to access school records. 

Which he figured would be creepy, so he didn’t bother looking.

Meeting you was an accident, really. You hadn’t been looking where you were going and had tripped over a loose cobblestone brick. Out of reflex, Viktor had dropped his books and crutch and tried to catch you. Keyword being tried. His bad leg was unstable as it was without his crutch, so you just brought him down with you. 

You looked at him in surprise, and he himself was surprised to see a glimmer of recognition as you helped him back to his feet and helped gather his books. 

“Viktor?” You asked, and he nodded, whispering your own name. His heart stuttered when you smiled that smile he had dreamt about for so many years. 

It was as beautiful as he remembered. 

"I would never fall in love again, until I found her."

I said, "I would never fall, unless it's you I fall into."

I was lost within the darkness, but then I found her

I found you

He kept on running into you after that. It was a little bizarre, but he didn’t mind. 

He found himself not minding whenever it came to you.

One day when you were walking the road to his lab, you asked him a question.

“Would you like to go to dinner with me?” You asked, and he actually stumbled, his crutch catching a cobblestone and threatening to send him sprawling. You let out an awkward squawk of surprise and grabbed his elbow, pulling him upright with a frantic “are you alright?!”

He coughs and fumbles with the crutch now safely placed under his arm. What would he even say? Lunch was for friends. You were friends, weren’t you? Wasn’t dinner for dates? Were you asking him on a date? You stand next to him, fiddling with your fingers and waiting for an answer. 

He finds himself saying yes, and his heart nearly stops at your brilliant smile. 

Georgia, pulled me in, I asked to...

Love her, once again.

You fell, I caught you.

I'll never let you go again, like I did

Oh, I used to say

Your dinner date (Was this truly a date? Was he going on a date? When was the last time he went on a date) was at a little hole-in-the-wall restaurant on the outskirts of Piltover. It wasn’t that far from his apartment, actually. Maybe that’s why you chose it, so he didn’t have to walk all over town. 

You showed up after him, precisely on the dot of your agreed meeting time. You held a bouquet of blueish-purple flowers tied with a silky red ribbon. You spotted him and grinned, making your way over and offering him the small bundle of plants. 

“I hope I didn’t keep you waiting long! These are for you.” You said sheepishly, rubbing the back of your neck. He found himself smiling in return and hiding his embarrassment under the guise of sniffing the flowers. 

"I would never fall in love again, until I found her."

I said, "I would never fall, unless it's you I fall into."

I was lost within the darkness, but then I found her

I found you

“What do they mean?” He asked once the two of you receive your food and are partway through the meal. You had done most of the talking, telling him about the lecture series you were creating to give to Noxus and Piltover if you had the chance. You looked up, confusion flitting across your pretty features before you realized what he was talking about. 

“The flowers? They’re cornflowers. They symbolize hope.” You said quickly, averting your eyes when he raised an eyebrow. 

“Hope for what?”

“Well… I was hoping you’d want to do this again.” You almost whispered, and his lungs spasmed. You wanted to see him again? He offered what he hoped was a charming smile. 

“I’d like that.”

"I would never fall in love again, until I found her."

I said, "I would never fall, unless it's you I fall into."

I was lost within the darkness, but then I found her

I found you

[weightedblanketjoyfriend]

A Rose By Any Other Name

Or: Everything you call Viktor except his name

Viktor x gn!Reader

3.9k words, SFW

Tags: No Warnings Applicable, minor cursing, fluff, friendly enemies to lovers, rivals to lovers perhaps?, gender neutral, no pronouns used

A/N: I haven’t written self-insert in, god, like, five years? But here is Arcane, ruining my life. (That being said, please be nice, it’s been so a while.)

Golden Boy.

‘C’mon, c’mon, I know the answer.”

“Viktor, my boy, how about you?”

“Of course, Professor. The main imports of the Noxian empire are as follows-“

With a quiet huff and an equally quiet expletive, you settle back into your seat and cross your arms over your chest, wrinkling your tie. You let out another huff.

And another.

And another.

“Y/N, it’s not like you don’t know the answer.”

“Well, Jayce, what if I wanted everyone else and the Professor to know I know the answer?” you hiss, knocking your neighbor’s foot with your own. He hit you back, harder, because he does that.

“Y/N, Heimerdinger knows you know the answer. You’re one of his top students.”

“But I’m not the top student!” you reply, voice gaining slightly in volume and pitch as the class is excused and everyone starts to pack up their things. “All because of the Golden Boy shithead~.”

“What is all because of me?” a lilting, masculine voice says from behind you.

“My failure!” you bellow, whipping around and smacking the wunderkind’s wrist with your notebook.

“Does answering six questions right in lecture count as failure?” Viktor replies, smiling small and easy as you step out from the row of seats to glare up at him.

“It does when you have to one-up me on two of them!” you mutter spitefully, shoving books into your rucksack and making your way down the stairs of the lecture hall. “I mess up the date of an Ixaocan holiday by one day, and here come pretty, Golden Boy favorite teacher’s pet with an “um, actually-“

“I did not word it “um, actually,” he interrupts, tugging on the back of your collar so you don’t bump into a student in front of you. You, pink-cheeked, turn back to thank him, but he just grins. “I would never start such a sentiment with an ‘um.’ That would imply I’m unsure.”

“I am going to imply that you’re an asshole,” you grumble, before winding your arm through his and accompanying Viktor and Jayce to lunch. He answered more questions correctly than you, so per tradition, you owed him a sweetmilk.

My hero.

“Hey~!”

Your voice, sweet, kind, and so close to his ear, startles Viktor out of his hyper focus and almost makes him drop his cane. He looks over his shoulder, and the fringes of his brown, unruly hair graze your cheek as you lean down next to his chair.

“My friend. My companion. My hero,” you simper, smile coquettish and wide.

“Y/N, my friend and competition. What do you want?” he deadpans. You hold his gaze for just a moment before throwing yourself into the armchair across from him. The pleading expression slips off and your typical air of competitive playfulness replaces it.

“Help me study for the Runeterran history exam.” Viktor holds back a chuckle and closes his book. Your asking for help must be more interesting and novel than whatever he’s reading.

“What is in it for me?” he asks. Viktor holds the tome up, and when you see it’s his history notes, you perk up, perching on the edge of your seat, knees bumping against his.

“10 silver cogs.”

“I know full well that you don’t have 5 silver cogs, let alone 10.”

“I’ll let you beat my next Engineering score.”

“You know I’ll beat you, whether you ‘let’ me or not.” You glare at him, and Viktor responds with a pleased, little hum and a lingering glance at your wringing hands.

“What…do you want?” He lets another satisfied sound and swings his arm back to hold the book in front of you. You reach for it, tentatively, hopefully, before Viktor leans in to tap the tome against your chin.

“Be my assistant in the lab for the next two weeks.”

“TWO weeks?” you hiss, pliant fingers shaped into claws and reaching for the object in his hands. Viktor, smug, quick, lithe Viktor, holds it behind his back, where your shorter arms cannot reach no matter how in his face you get.

And you are so close to his face, his nose just an inch from your cheekbone, his eyes gazing deeply into yours. His familiar, amused, affectionate expression stokes a spark in your stomach, and not the usual flame of pettiness and competition.

“It is now three.” His voice lilts on the -th sound, accent and laughter transforming a familiar phonic into something new and novel. “Would you like it to be four?

“What do you even need an assistant for?! You’re a control freak!” you hiss, contemplating any possible action plan to get that book. You consider for a split second attacking his vulnerable torso, pressing fingers between ribs to find a ticklish spot. For some reason, the idea of skimming fingertips along stomach and chest and back and leaning in close- closer- made pinpricks of heat crawl up your neck.

“Jayce is going to be busy the next couple of weeks with the Kirraman’s, he’s barely going to be in the lab,” Viktor explains, eyes narrowing playfully at your poised hands as if sensing your ill intent. “While he is indisposed, I could use an extra pair of hands… and the company.”

Well, damn.

With a huff and a loosening of the shoulders, you lightly push at Viktor’s chest, and he relaxes, leaning back in his seat and bringing his arm back to place the book in your waiting hands.

His honey gold eyes soften, hard candy to molten lava , as you take it from him. His playful smirk stops pretending and loosens to a small, affectionate smile. His fingertips brush casually against yours, and they send rivulets of sensation through every nerve of you.

“Refresh me on your shorthand over dinner?” you say, taking these new emotions and pushing them to the bottom of your bag with the notebook.

“It is your week to pay.”

Asshole.

“Why am I the one holding the soldering iron exactly? You’re the engineering major.”

“Yes, well, you’re a chemistry major, so this is good practice for keeping your hands steady,” he mutters from next to you, eyes locked onto his notes.

“I’ll keep my hands steady around your throat, asshole” you mutter back, eyes focused on the small motherboard beneath your fingertips. You understood plenty of the small minutiae of circuitry, but the mass of wires and bolts was not exactly your forte, too boring and static to keep your full attention.

So, instead, you choose to sneak peeks at the subject across from you. Viktor, at least, was never a bore to look at.

Even now, eyes blank and focused, a flurry of microexpressions passed every second. Viktor’s lips were never still, reading through his notes and working through his thoughts at a breakneck speed. His eyes flit across the pages too fast for his mouth to catch up.

Every action and breath exuded genius.

When it did not infuriate and goad you, the luminosity of his mind held you spellbound.

You cannot look away from the strand of hair that falls in front of his eyes, tickling his nose, or the mole dotting his cheek that disappears at certain syllables, or the grudgingly adorable, jagged points of his teeth, canine and boyish.

Viktor is equal parts savant and student, elegant scholar and childish young man, greatest opponent and closest confidante. He is an experiment in contrasts, and you are an excellent scientist.

…is what you are thinking when your hands veer off with your attention and graze the soldering iron against your palm.

You hear the slight sizzle of flesh before you actually feel it, and when you set down the tool, it is only the shocked, harsh intake of breath that alerts Viktor to your injury. He is up in a flash, cane in one hand, your wrist in the other, and has your hand under the faucet of the safety sink before the pain properly registers itself in your amygdala.

“Y/N, by Janna, you need to pay more attention, that was incredibly dangerous!” His voice reverberates through your ear, the timber of his accent sending shivers down your spine, up your brainstem, combing with the pain and epinephrine into a befuddling mixture of numbness and sensation.

Funnily enough, you don’t even feel the pain in your hand or the cool water running over it. All you can feel is Viktor’s chest against your back, his shoulder slotted against yours like puzzle pieces. His cheek is firm against your temple, his breath ghosting over your skin. His fingers have your wrist in a vice-like grip, so tight you think you’ll be able to sketch his fingerprints from memory from how they tingle and sear.

You wonder, fleetingly, distractedly, heatedly if they will leave a mark, and the revelation that you desperately wish for them to is more of a shock than the burn.

“I’m sorry,” you gasp, and your senses become even more muddled as the scent of ozone and leather and oil coming off of Viktor settles into your lungs and memory and heart. “Did- did I drop the iron? Did I break the thing?” You can feel him hiss, a current of coffee-scented breath, better than you can hear it.

“Don’t worry about the circuit board, I have dozens of circuit boards,” he intones, voice now soothing and calm as he inspects your palm closely, bringing it closer to your faces. His hand cradles yours gently, carefully, and the sight of practically your entire hand caged in his long, distracting fingers wrenches a whimper out of you. “Are you in a lot of pain?”

Emotionally, yes.

“No,” you respond, flexing your fingers experimentally, partially to check the nerves in your palm and partially because you thought you’d self-destruct at the way his fingers had started to entwine with yours. “I think I’m okay?” His touch moves from your arm, and your shoulders start to droop in- Relaxation? Disappointment?- when you feel his hand on your back instead.

“You do not sound sure, Y/N. Come here.” Viktor deposits you on the stool and turns off the iron before retrieving the first aid kit under all the lab workstations. “Are you okay?” he asks again, kneeling by your feet, gently bandaging your hands, looking up at you with eyes like amber liquor, warm, sweet, and addictive.

You can only shake your head in response, because even a chatterbox like you can’t speak when you’re doomed and drowning.

Player.

‘Sky is a bitch,’ you think. ‘A horrendous bitch, and I should throw my drink right over her very pretty hair.’

Sky- speak of the devil and she will appear- catches your eye as she walks and waves at you from across the ballroom, and you, a horrible person, happily smile and wave back. With a radiant grin so joyous you reconsider pouring the drink on her, she turns back to him, and you pour it down your throat instead.

‘She’s nice. She’s sweet, and she doesn’t poke him with pens to throw him off his game or throw pastries at his head when he won’t leave the lab to eat or call him an asshole when he scores higher than her on an exam.’

“Is there a reason you’re trying to burn a hole through Sky’s back?” Jayce asks, leaning a casual elbow on the bar next to you. “Is she beating you in a class too?” Your glare is steel, unyielding and cold, and Jayce raises a hand in surrender.

“No reason,” you mumble, fidgeting with your regretfully empty glass. “I’ve never liked Sky.”

“Y/N, you have standing bi-weekly plans to meet her after class so she doesn’t have to walk back to the dorms in the dark,” he responds, dark eyebrows raised in disbelief. He gestures at a gala bartender for two more drinks before sidling closer to you. “Plans you told me not to intrude on because you enjoyed your time together.”

“Well!” you bark out with a sound that is a poor facsimile of a laugh. “She’ll be fine without me; she’s going to have the golden playboy to walk her home now.” With a sneer, dripping with contempt and other emotions you dare not name, you angle your glass towards the adorable couple. In her gold gown and his pitch black suit, they are an eye-catching, infuriatingly beautiful pair. It makes you want to vomit.

“Ohhhhh,” Jayce whistles in a grating, knowing tone. When you finally tear your eyes away from Sky’s hand on Viktor’s arm, Jayce’s expression is an unreadable combination of conceit, omniscience, pity, and glee all rolled into an incredibly punchable face. “Finally figured that out, did you?”

“I have no idea what you could be talking about,” you reply, sneer transforming into a grimace as Jayce throws an arm over your shoulder, a friendly gesture tainted by the way he raises a taunting eyebrow at you.

“I’m talking about how everyone’s been waiting for you and Viktor to truly see each other since first term.” A sardonic eyebrow raise, and Jayce concedes. “Sky being the exception, of course.”

“How many drinks have you had, man?” You ask, accepting both of the drinks the bartender brings by and taking a generous sip from yours. “You’re talking nonsense again and not even the fun change-the-world kind.” He shakes his head and jerks a chin at your vodka tonic.

“Not as many as you’ve had. I didn’t think you the drown-your-sorrows type.”

“I have no sorrows to speak of,” you insist, smiling up at him with a blatantly obvious cheer. “Why would I be sad at our friend being happy and loved? Maybe he’ll finally take some time off and take care of himself. Or let someone take care of him.”

“And then you’ll finally beat him?” Jayce prompts, and you nod stiltedly.

“Yeah. That.” The alcohol, sour and bitter, burns as it travels down your throat, but at least it stings less than your uninhibited thoughts. You’re about to raise your glass, both a request for another a toast to your hollow victory, but Jayce, lovingly, kindly, plucks it out your hand and leads you away from what’s upsetting you and towards the banquet table.

Můj Jediný.

Honestly, you don’t know why you’re surprised.

When you crept out of the bustling gala in the waning hours of the morning, properly sober and tired, the lab had seemed like the best place to rest. In the past weeks, it had become just as much your space as theirs, and it was much closer to the ballroom than the dorms.

So when you shove open the heavy door to the laboratory, it should not have surprised you to see great minds think alike.

Viktor, your- whatever he is-, was a vision of elegance at the party: his gilded, special occasion cane with gold cufflinks to match, a pristine, onyx, freshly pressed suit, and chocolatey brown hair gelled into glorious submission. He had been a feast, a decadence to behold.

The Viktor stretched out on the couch in front of you is a comfort, a familiarity. The suit jacket is folded underneath his dozing head, coiffed hair now in unruly curls around his sweet, defenseless face.

The sight is like a warm hearth at the end of a grueling day. It calls to you like a moth to flame, and, helpless, you gravitate toward it.

“I’ve never seen him this quiet,” is the first thought that comes to your mind as you kneel next to your sleeping friend.

Even when engrossed in studies and science, his presence is deafening. If he is not whispering, thinking out loud, you can practically hear the gears in his mind cranking away at the newest way to change the world. When he gets particularly excited, which is more often than one would think, he does not whisper, he shouts- in a variety of languages.

“Ahoj, můj přítel,” you whisper softly, reaching out to stroke his hair with the gentlest of butterfly touches. You have picked up several phrases of Czech the past year, mostly curse words spitfired off the tongue during experiments. But when you’re alone, during restless nights, you look up sweet, loving phrases and allow the fantasy of Viktor’s voice to lull you to sleep. “Můj jediný.”

“What?”

Your eyes which has distractedly, stupidly, traveled down to Viktor’s exposed collar bone snap up to his wide open eyes trained right on you. You scramble back, but the hand you’d been tracing his jawline with is trapped, his hand wrapped tightly around your wrist as he props himself on his elbow.

“Who is your one and only? You’ve been learning Czech?” he interrogates, sun-gold eyes boring into you, exposing you, baring the pink blush on your cheeks for the world, for him, to see.

“No!” you counter, struggling in vain to free yourself from his unexpectedly strong grip. “I’ve done and said no such thing. You must have been dreaming.”

“I was not asleep, I was just resting my eyes, so I know what I heard,” he insists, sitting up straight and taking your chin in his other hand. With him sitting on the couch and you kneeling beside it, between his legs, you are so, so vulnerable.

“I don’t think you do! God, I don’t know why Sky likes you so much, cause, for a genius, you’re so stupid,” you hiss with venom dripping from your words and frustrated tears threatening to drip from your eyes.

“Why do you say I am stupid, Y/N? Present your evidence to me,” Viktor murmurs, voice and touch soft and gentle and feathers. Even your forge-hot temper is quelled by the way his thumb tenderly brushes at the corner of your eye.

“The girl is obviously in love with you,” you scoff, tearing your eyes away from his to look off to the side in a way only a stupid, brave man would categorize as shy. “Sky preens for your attention at every opportunity and you give it. You are only delaying the inevitable.”

“And what, pray tell, is this ‘inevitable’ conclusion you allude to?” He asks, voiced laced with something you could swear is amusement. Your temper flares again, stoked by the warmth beneath your skin.

“You and her. Saccharinely happy. Little engineer babies running amuck and terrorizing Piltover.” A smidge of hurt leaks into your anger, and you bite your lip to stifle it. Viktor, analytical, calm once again, just tilts his head further to look at you quizzically.

“That is a conclusion of sorts, though I would hesitate to deem it inevitable. Y/N, what proof do you have to support your theory?” He tilts your head to look up at him, to meet his eyes, and you face him dead-on, never wrong, never one to back down from a fight.

“She’s always here.”

“She’s assigned as my assistant, that is her job.”

“She’s sweet and nice to you.”

“That she is, but she doesn’t challenge me.”

“She likes you.”

“That is one half of an equation; that doesn’t matter if I do not like her back, if x does not equal y, Y/N. Surely you know your algebra?”

“Are you really fucking with me right now?” You ask, indignation and fury growing by the minute. You writhe in his grip again, but Viktor holds you captivated by his hands and gaze.

“I am merely providing a counterpoint, which is necessary if you wish to prove your hypothesis.” Viktor smiles at you, and you’re about to tell him exactly what he can do and where when he shuts you up with a gentle thumb about your lips.

“You presume, falsely, I might add, that I want to be with and create a future with Sky; I can prove that wrong with the fact I rejected her confession last month. With this information, would you like to re-evaluate your supposition?”

“If you’re going to be a know-it-all, why don’t you just tell me yours then?” You whisper, voice soft and tremulous in contrast to your harsh words.

“Gladly.” Viktor leans in, and every thought you’ve ever had escapes you. “I posit that you love me. Do you have a rebuttal?”

“I posit that you’re a piece of shit,” you breathe out, mentally cursing out yourself and him and everything.

Viktor just huffs out a chuckle that you can feel against your skin. He touches his forehead to yours, and you swear the electrons of your body are colliding against his, out of control. His touch makes you feel unstable, radioactive, thermonuclear, like you’ll soon unravel to chromosomes beneath him.

“The two are not mutually exclusive. After all, you are, as you say, a “piece of shit”, and I love you.”

“No, you don’t.” A full laugh escapes Viktor at your outburst, his hand moving to cradle your cheek.

“Oh, I assure you I do. I would go so far as to say I am an expert in that regard.”

Coming to your senses, finally, you lean back to examine him in full. You are a scientist. You are a professional at collecting evidence and drawing logical conclusions, so you observe the man before you.

Viktor lets you look, poses even. Brown tresses rumpled from sleep, an imprint of a jacket seam pressed into the skin of his forehead, this is the Viktor you see every day.

Then this Viktor takes the hand he holds in his, brings it close, and presses a gentle kiss to the center of your palm. It is a simple gesture, just a minute turn of the head, a butterfly-wing brush of the lips, and yet it is damning and irrefutable.

The look in his eyes is and always has been a look of pure, utter affection and adoration, and it is all the evidence you need.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Viktor hums thoughtfully against your palm, and you shiver at the sensation.

“I figured this was the sort of experiment that needed to be done yourself. After all, when have you ever taken anything I’ve said without question?” he asks, reaching out with his free hand to tap at your temple.

“How long?” you ask, tentatively, shyly, putting your hand over his and holding it against your cheek again. Viktor hums, a thoughtful, pleased sound, and strokes a thumb along your cheekbone.

“The first time you cursed me out for beating your score and asked me to critique your report,” he responds, his smile fond and nostalgic. “You never stop trying and reaching for the best, no matter how many times you don’t succeed. You fall, and you get up again, angrier and more determined. How could I resist you?”

“Viktor,” you whisper. “That was more than a year ago.” He shrugs, his smile growing crooked and playful as he gently pulls your face toward his.

“I am a scientist, Y/N. I can wait as long as I need to for results.” With warm fingers against your neck, soft hair brushing against your forehead, and a whisper you can literally, finally feel against your lips, Viktor leans in for a kiss.

“There is no limit to how long I’d wait as long as the result is you right here with me.”

A/N: This is dedicated to @sweatandwoe @chickenparm @kikorenart @inkinflux @gaybybirth @arcanescribbles y’all don’t know me but you all make beautiful, wonderful content and you’ve have kind of ruined my life and attention span but I’m having tons of fun so it’s cool /pos

[silence-burns]

Just a Quick Break

Fandom: Arcane

Warnings: smut

The Piltover Academy, though built to impress and show the grandeur of the city, was in its depths a labyrinthine place, full of corridors leading supposedly nowhere of importance, and rooms once used for storage and promptly forgotten.

It retained its charm though, especially during the busy days when all Viktor wanted was a few quiet moments to gather his thoughts. Even in the laboratory wing, swarming with academics and their projects, a few rooms had been conveniently forgotten over the decades.

Viktor often found reprieve in one of them. 

It was the size of a closet and all it could store was a dusty floor-to-ceiling bookshelf against one wall and an ancient desk on the other, with a tall, narrow window spilling light in between. The day was bright enough to paint the dust gliding lazily through the air gold. 

Viktor quieted his cough, but had no intention of leaving. When he leaned on the edge of the desk, the bottom shelf in front of him was the perfect height to rest his leg on and bring some relief to the pain he'd been walking with throughout the day. 

Most of the books tightly packed there were ancient enough that the ink had become unreadable, and many others were written in languages Viktor couldn't even name. Still, Viktor enjoyed the quiet hours spent learning something new and completely outside his usual field and the sheer randomness of it.

The door creaked open. Viktor froze.

"Oh, dear," you smiled and slipped inside the room. "And here I was, promising Heimedinger his favorite assistant was busy rechecking the calculations."

Viktor closed the book in his hands. "They won't be any different whether I do that three times or three hundred. The fault must lay in the quality of the materials used, but I don't have access to that."

"He never listens, huh?" 

You leaned on the desk next to him, taking the book he held. The room was tiny enough that it put you shoulder to shoulder with Viktor. 

"Not when it comes to his own projects," he shrugged. He could feel the warmth seeping through your clothes. 

Viktor tore his eyes away from you.

"So you decide to busy yourself reading an outdated agriculture manual?"

"It's better than going through the same numbers again and hoping for a different result." He waved his hand. “The word insanity comes to mind for some reason.”

The sound of your laugh sent the butterflies in his stomach flying. 

You'd known each other so long he must've heard it a thousand times by now, but Viktor doubted he'd ever get used to it. He still had to remind himself that somehow you ended up together.

"You better be careful," he said. "Someone might hear us and ruin our little break."

"You're the one slacking off!"

"As if you weren't supposed to practice before your presentation tomorrow."

You gasped dramatically. "How dare you say I can't do that half an hour before the meeting, as I always do. Someone's getting rude..."

Shivers ran down Viktor's arms when he noticed the smile playing on your lips. He'd learned everything about it throughout the years.

Viktor glanced quickly at the door that was thankfully still closed when you squeezed yourself between him and the bookshelf. The light from the window erased the shadows from your face when you leaned in to look Viktor in the eyes. Your hands traveled up and down his thighs, sending goosebumps over his skin. 

Viktor cleared his throat awkwardly.

"Love, I don't think this is a good place for—"

You hushed him with a peck on his lips. "Of course it is. You just need to stay quiet."

Viktor yelped when you caught him under his knees and pushed him further onto the desk. His shoulders hit the wall and his cane rattled slightly, but stayed in the corner by the window. He didn't need it for once, though, not with his aching knee being in a surprisingly comfortable position—

Viktor's thoughts scattered when you slipped between his legs, and he suddenly found you very, very close. His sweaty palms were braced behind his back, thankfully beyond your reach.

Your eyes dipped to the blush spotting his cheeks. Viktor could've sworn the rapid beating of his heart could be heard in half the Academy. 

"What a curious reaction," you whispered, placing a feather-soft kiss over his cheekbone. "I wonder what you might be thinking about, dear."

There were very few things on Viktor's mind when your hand squeezed his thigh and moved slowly upward, as if drawn precisely to the spot his pants felt the most uncomfortable.

With his mouth completely dry, even swallowing proved a difficult task. Viktor eyed the door again, trying his best not to moan when your hand brushed over his bulge. It wouldn't be the first time the two of you decided to have a little fun in the middle of the day, but certainly the riskiest so far when it came to the choice of a spot. 

Viktor liked it.

The fear of being caught was surprisingly thrilling. Viktor caught himself shivering as you undid the buttons of his pants one by one and had to cover his own mouth when you freed his length. 

"Someone's getting impatient," you whispered in his ear, pumping him lazily with your fist. He was almost hard.

Viktor groaned when you kissed down the tense column of his neck, leaving a trail of goosebumps lingering in every place you touched. His cock twitched when he felt you smile against his pulse. His heart threatened to burst from his chest, every beat faster than the last.

Viktor took a deep breath, trying to regain a semblance of control.

Somewhere beyond the wall, in the spacious but old laboratory, a door opened and two voices broke the silence. 

Viktor tensed, listening to the people moving some equipment, unaware of being so close, and yet so far away from the rather intriguing scene. They talked about things Viktor couldn't hear, their words mixing together. He couldn't tear his eyes away from the second pair of doors, the ones half hidden at the far wall. All it took was for one of the students to notice them and open out of curiosity, just like Viktor did when he first noticed the tiny storage room all those weeks ago…

You pinned his hips down with your free hand, holding him firmly in place when he shivered. Your grip on his cock tightened, making Viktor see the stars. A droplet of precum slid down his length and over your hand.

"Careful," you whispered. "We don't want them to hear, after all."

Viktor was in no shape to argue, especially when you nipped at his earlobe, moving your hand further down. He felt his soul leaving his body when you slipped your hand inside his tucked down pants, massaging his balls in precisely the spot you knew worked on him like magic.

A moan slipped from his lips before Viktor caught himself, fretfully glancing at the doors that stayed mercifully closed. He was vaguely aware of people still walking around the other room, but couldn't focus on what they were doing - not when his pulse was drumming in his veins and ears, bringing him closer to the edge with each movement of your hand. His breathing was labored, and the sweat rolled down the back of Viktor's neck. Nothing had ever felt so good as the moment you took your lips away from his neck and closed them around his tip.

Your mouth was delightfully warm and wet. Viktor felt your tongue explore the underside of his cock, licking down the precum that leaked before. Your hand moved to the base of his cock, pumping him in tune with your mouth. 

Viktor's legs twitched when he came, and for the moment even the pain of his knee was forgotten. He had no idea if he made any noises when you kept on working him until he was spent and exhausted. His breathing hitched when he saw you lick your lips with a devilish smile and enough satisfaction to put more blush on his face. Viktor was happy he was already sitting.

"Enjoy your break, love. Remember about Heimedinger's project," you cooed before straightening up and squeezing out from between Viktor's completely limp legs and the bookshelf. There was only silence coming from the other room by then, so you creaked the door open and quietly left before anyone from your team missed you. 

Viktor closed his eyes, but it did little to calm him. 

With a groan, he moved off the desk, trying his best to put himself together with shaking hands. He had no idea how he would look people in the eye once he left his little hiding spot. 

Still, he couldn't stop the half smile working its way onto his own lips. He didn’t think of himself as prioritizing fairness in most areas of his life, and yet he couldn't stop wondering how he would repay your favor. 

[allclonesneedkisses]

I posted 545 times in 2022

That's 545 more posts than 2021!

28 posts created (5%)

517 posts reblogged (95%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@chopper-base

@kaminocasey

@maulusque

@kote-wan

@twistedstitcher27

I tagged 216 of my posts in 2022

#star wars - 91 posts

#the clone wars - 37 posts

#my writing - 27 posts

#acnk writes - 23 posts

#acnk - 23 posts

#captain rex - 19 posts

#the bad batch - 17 posts

#the mandalorian - 16 posts

#my writings - 16 posts

#clone fic - 15 posts

Longest Tag: 84 characters

#*looking directly at tad* i guess shes always just been bad at dodging things huh :)

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Summary: Your bad day takes a turn for the better when you wander into the Arcane Public Library.

Pairing: Viktor x f!Reader

Word Count: 642 Rating: PG, (this is like a teaser for the stories to come)

Tags: fluff, slice of life, library au, summer library vibes, language

Masterlist

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54 notes - Posted July 28, 2022

#4

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73 notes - Posted June 18, 2022

#3

Summary: The gang's spending the evening at the saloon, but you and a certain cowboy can't seem to take your eyes off each other

Pairing: Arthur x f!Reader

Word Count: 2.3K Rating: T+

Tags: mutual pining, flirting, drinking, unwanted advances (just words and light touches), smoking, kissing, banter

Masterlist

@writer-wednesday

“Care for another round Arthur?” You had to bite your lip to keep from laughing at the downright venomous look he shot you across the worn camp table. 

“Nah, I know when I’m beat. S’not as much fun when you know you're being cheated.” You gave a feigned gasp of indignation as you laid your well-worn playing cards flat on the table.

“Mr. Morgan, I’m appalled that you’d even suggest that I cheat.” Arthur tried to hide his own smile with a cigarette that he was placing between his teeth but it was a lost cause. He patted his pockets looking for his matches and gave a huff of annoyance when his search came up empty. He readjusted his hat and gestured at you with his unlit cigarette between his fingers.

“Don’t you try and sweet talk me, I know your games and I ain’t playing them.” You arched a brow at that, your smile edging more towards a smirk.

“I assure you, the only game I’m playing is cards, Mr. Morgan.” You dipped your hand into your bodice, pulling out a thin gold lighter from between your breasts. 

You flicked it to life and leaned forwards over the worn table to light his cigarette, your eyes locked. You had to admit that out of all the men in camp Arthur’s sheer self-control was the hardest to break. Not once did his blue eyes stray from yours, even though you knew he had a perfect view down your bodice.

“Are you sure I can't tempt you?” You rested your elbows on the table, your chin balancing in your palms as your tongue darted out to wet your lips. It was only then that his resolve slipped. It was just a fraction of a second but it made your pulse quicken when his eyes darted down to your lips. The curl of smoke dripping from between his teeth did nothing to hide the glance from you. But as soon as it happened it was over and Arthur leaned back in his chair, his eyes focusing behind you as if that had been his intention all along.

…

“Now what about this one, the one with the lady?” You pressed yourself tight against your mark, making sure your breasts were on full display to both him and his companion across the table as you delicately tapped the card in question.

The saloon was packed with customers just off the train and itching for a drink along with those too drunk to stop buying. The burly man you were clinging to was your third victim of the evening. He was too drunk and too enamored by your display of interest that he’d never noticed when you stole his billfold or lifted his pocket watch. In all honesty, he probably wouldn't even notice if you stole his spurs right off his boots, but that was a risk for another day.

He chortled, his laugh loud but not unpleasant as he settled a large warm hand on your lower back to pull you closer. “Alright sweetheart that there’s the queen…”  You tuned out his rambling explanation as his companion stood to grab a couple more beers for the two of them. That was when you saw Arthur watching you from where he leaned against the bar. He had his dark coat flipped back over his hip exposing his low-slung gun belt and cracked leather holsters. He had an empty glass in his hand, one heavy finger hooked over the rim as if he planned to throw it rather than drink from it. He seemed deep in thought, his gaze not altogether focused while still aimed in your direction, but after a moment he seemed to feel your gaze because his eyes locked onto yours. Without missing a beat he raised his empty glass to you as if he were any other man caught staring. The action was slightly spoiled though when Arthur raised his glass to his lips only to find it empty. You smiled and looked away before he could see, not wanting to irk him with your amusement.

As the evening wore on you switched between men, feigning interest in whatever had brought them into town. Most of the gang had either drunk themselves into blissful unawareness or were still working the crowd in one way or another. Arthur was playing poker in the corner with a group of well-dressed horse dealers while you watched him from the corner of your eye. You were done for the night, your pockets and hidden belt pouch were overly full and heavy with your spoils. You had a half-empty glass of cider in your hand, one you’d been nursing for the last half hour while sneaking looks at a certain poker player. 

From his corner seat, Arthur could see the entire saloon, could see Sean making a fool of himself with a couple of ladies on his arms, and Hosea smoking a cigar by the window. But his eyes always came back to you, even as he played the horse dealers for all they were worth. He hadn't missed your surreptitious glances, though he was oblivious to the fact that they were directed at him and not his well-dressed companions. The men were starting to get bored of the game, tired of losing more money than they were winning. A couple of them folded and sauntered over to the bar, settling themselves on either side of you as they called for the bartender.

Arthur lost that round and the next one much to the delight of his companions as his frown deepened and his eyebrows pulled together like thunderclouds before a storm. You were no longer glancing over towards his smoky little corner while the two men chatted around you. Their hands were animated as they drank and inched ever closer to inappropriate territory. Arthur forced himself to look away, his renewed focus winning him back all he’d lost within a couple of rounds. 

He tapped his winning hand on the table and laid it flat with a general nod towards the other players before gathering up his winnings. “Gentlemen, it’s been a pleasure.” His companions grumbled goodnaturedly, too drunk to really mind their losses. Only once he had everything tucked away did Arthur look back towards you. He stood a little more abruptly than he’d intended, not that the scrape of his chair legs could have been heard over the din of the saloon.

…

As soon as the men had settled on either side of you you’d resigned yourself to listening to their boring conversation as you finished your drink. But your patience was wearing thin and both men had boxed you in, one with a foot wedged behind your stool and the other with a hand on your back that was inching downwards. You were used to these kinds of advances, hell you enjoyed them when you were in the mood but you were done for the evening and the men weren't getting the hint. After a glance towards the bartender, he’d offered to close out their tabs to get them to leave but he’d been waved away by the clean-shaven Mr. Werth to your left, who had then let his hand fall to your thigh. 

It was late, and you were tired of playing the interested woman. So with a smile you shifted slightly and looked down at the hand on your thigh as if you’d just noticed it was there.

“Mr. Werth, that is a fine signet ring you have there, mind if I have a closer look?” Lightly you tugged at his fingers as if to bring his hand up to the bar but he ignored your ploy and instead leaned closer. You narrowed your eyes at him, your smile faltering just a hair as the stench of his sour breath met your nose.

His fevered eyes wandered, unfocused but lecherous as he tried to give you a crooked smile that fell flat. “Wouldn't you rather feel it?” The older man to your right let out a loud guffaw as if Werth had told a rather witty joke. You tilted your chin up slightly, your eyebrow rising into a perfect arch like a wave poised above the rocks on the shore.

You turned your working smile back on in full force, even as your words bit into him like spurs. “Only without you attached to it.” At that, the hand of the other man left your spine as he brought his beer to his lips with a cackle. Werth seemed stunned at your answer and you used his lack of attention to pull away from him now that you had an opening. Unfortunately, the shifting of your skirts seemed to rouse him and his hand clamped down on your thigh as his expression darkened. 

“Let it go Werth, there are plenty more women who’ll listen to your ramblings.” 

Werth frowned at his companion. “Shut it, Earl, she’s just playing hard to get.” This time you glared at him, your smile fading as a venomous retort filled your mouth, but you didn't get the chance to spit it at him because Arthur was there, his foot catching on Werth’s stool as he stumbled, yanking the man to the side and forcing him to release you in favor of catching himself on the bar.

“My mistake,” Arthur said, his hands held up to placate any anger. “can't seem to get my feet to go where I want them anymore.” Arthur leaned heavily on the bar, playing the sloppy drunk even as he showily tipped his hat at you with the tiniest of winks.

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77 notes - Posted August 31, 2022

#2

Summary: This is the story of how it all began between the baker and you.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x GN!Reader

Word Count: 1.1K Rating: T

Tags: fluff, baker Bucky, shy Bucky, shy reader, gender neutral reader, guest starring Steve, comfort, falling in love, love at first sight, angst only because everyone is a little anxious, soft vibes

Masterlist

This is the story of how it all began between the baker and you.

…

The second you stepped into the bakery at five A.M running on three hours of sleep you were a goner. How was anyone supposed to resist a hot man with his sleeves rolled all the way up his muscled forearms elbow deep in a mound of dough? You stood rooted to the spot, just inside the front door long after the last chime of the entry bell had faded, just staring at the most perfect man you’d ever seen. From his short dark hair to his soft parted lips he was an absolute knockout, and that was before you even got to his muscles.

Every time he kneaded the dough his forearms would flex, showing off absolutely mouthwatering muscles and tendons, not to mention the breathtaking tattoo that covered his entire left arm. With how exhausted you were you had no defense against his perfect existence and the added warm light and heavenly smell of baking bread was making the whole experience feel like a scene from a romance novel. You knew you were gawking at him as he worked the dough back and forth on the prep table but you couldn't look away. Your only saving grace was the fact that he hadn't seemed to notice your arrival, his head bowed and his thick eyebrows knit in concentration.

There was a jingle behind you and you almost jumped out of your skin as you were forcibly ripped from your heart eyed trance. Quickly you stepped aside, your blood pounding from embarrassment and surprise as you tried to kickstart your frazzled brain into functioning again. An absolute hunk of a man who was all broad shoulders and blue eyes stepped into the bakery and grinned at you.

“Hi! Sorry we’re not actually open yet but if you give me a moment I’ll be right with you.” Your brain was too confused and overwhelmed to come up with a normal answer so you just gave him a smile and a nod even as he turned away and hurried behind the front counter. You stood awkwardly by the door, your hands gripping your purse strap like it was the only thing keeping you from bolting. The new man jabbed the dark haired beauty in the ribs as he passed, making him jump and scowl at him as he removed a previously hidden earbud. And although their conversation wasn't meant for you, you could clearly hear what was said.

“I swear Bucky, one day you’re going to leave the front door unlocked and someone’s going to rob us blind.”

…

From then on every time you came in your eyes were drawn to Bucky. He always had his head bowed as his perfect hands mixed and poured and cut whatever he was making that day. His flour dusted apron was the only messy part of him as he poured over his delicious creations.

He never said anything to you, although sometimes he’d catch you watching him and he’d give you a shy smile which you always returned before the both of you looked away. You didn't mind his lack of interaction, you weren't sure you’d be able to actually say anything to him with how tongue tied he made you. Time after time you came back, always ordering whatever was freshest knowing that no matter what it was it would be perfect because he made it. And every time you met each other's eyes your heart swelled and you promised yourself that one day you’d talk to him.

This ritual of stolen glances and blushing smiles continued until one faithful day Steve was absent from the front counter. You’d stepped inside, inhaling the aroma of whatever sweet treat was currently baking before you glanced up. Instead of being in his usual place at the prep table Bucky stood behind the cash register, his flour dusted apron a little more smeared than usual and his cheeks a little redder. Maybe it was the lack of Steve or any other customers, or maybe it was the general air of hopefulness between the two of you but for the first time since you started coming there you met his eyes and held them as you stepped forwards. 

“Hi.” Your voice was small as you greeted him, a little more breathy than you’d like. 

But his was equally as quiet, betraying just how nervous he was to talk to you too. “Hi. What can I get for you?” 

Luckily your order was always the same so even though your heart was beating at stroke level you were able to get it out without stumbling over your words.

“One of whatever’s freshest please.”

Bucky's smile widened as he turned and scooped a still hot cinnamon roll off the cooling rack and deposited it in a perfect white paper bag which he placed on the counter. When your eyes met again you couldn't help but flush even warmer and you let your gaze fall as a pretense for digging for your wallet. 

There was a crinkle in front of you as Bucky pushed the paper bag closer. “Uh, It's free today.” 

You paused and looked up in surprise only to find him fiddling with the corner of your bag. “What?” 

He seemed to take a deep breath as if steeling himself before he met your eyes once more. “It’s your thirteenth order. Like a bakers dozen, so the thirteenth is free. Not that I’ve been counting how many things you buy, well I have but not in a weird way. Wait no, that came out wrong. What I mean is you’re a customer and you come a lot and-” As he’d rambled you’d just stared at him open-mouthed as he got redder and redder before he forced himself to stop by biting his tongue, his eyes falling to the counter in embarrassment.

All your shyness and quiet longing was replaced by a spark of confidence that made you feel like a live wire. You gripped the edge of the counter as inspiration struck you and before you could chicken out you went for it. 

“What if I wanted to change my order?” You couldn’t keep the hopeful grin off your face even as you licked your lips nervously.

Bucky's eyes were downcast, his cheeks still flaming with embarrassment from his earlier outburst. “Sure, no problem.” 

You let out a little huff of air and let yourself hope as you watched his face. “Can I get your number instead?”

His hands were wrapped around the bag to pull it away but he released it in surprise as he looked up. His eyes found yours and he must have seen the nervous hope there because his face broke out in an excited smile and he nodded, all of his shyness replaced by joy.

…

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130 notes - Posted August 18, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

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528 notes - Posted June 13, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[envihellbender]

9 + Arcane

"I never wanted to hate you, but look where we are."

Characters: Viktor and Evil!Jayce

Background: in the AU where Viktor and Silco are brothers and Deckard survived, becoming Silco’s second in command. Also a Deckard/Viktor romance.

“What are you doing?” Viktor heard Jayce say from his bedroom doorway, he was stood over a suitcase. Thankfully he’d had Deckard move everything important and work related to his new accommodation earlier, all Jayce had power over was him and his clothes. Viktor sighed and didn’t turn to face Jayce or stop what he was doing.

“I’m packing,” Viktor answered simply. “I think, given the end of our… relationship it makes sense for me to leave.”

“Is that the only reason why?” Jayce pressed, Viktor’s shoulders tensed as he felt Jayce grow closer. He suddenly became aware of vulnerable he was.

“No. But it’s the only one I wish to speak of.” Viktor’s voice shook slightly. He knew Jayce was referring to how he’d hurt him less than 24 hours ago. The events of the night before had forced him to act. It was what resulted in him contacting Deckard, and by extension his brother. But he wasn’t ready to face that, not yet.

“I apologised for-”Jayce said as he approached, Viktor could feel him just a few inches away and it repulsed him.

“I’m not interested in your apologies, Jayce,” Viktor interrupted, slamming his suitcase closed. Jayce grabbed Viktor’s bicep and spin him around, forcing him to face him.

“Get away from me,” Viktor stammered, pulling his arm from Jayce’s strong, muscular grasp. “I’m not your toy, Jayce.”

“You can’t leave.” Jayce declared it so simply as if he had the power to keep Viktor prisoner, all Viktor could think was it showed how little Jayce knew him any more.

“And what makes you say that?” Viktor asked with a furrowed brow and a tilted head. “You wouldn’t be the first to think they could keep me in a cage and no one else has succeeded.”

“I need you. For my- our work, for our-”

“So it’s our work now?” Viktor scowled. “You don’t seem too concerned with that when none of our creations have my name on it. All of the talks and lectures are done by you.”

“That… that is not up to me,” Jayce lied, tightening his grip on Viktor’s arm, causing him to wince and gasp. “The headmaster-”

“I suppose that’s the problem. You didn’t used to listen to any authority. Now you do, and it’s corrupted you.”

“I’m Piltover’s saviour,” Jayce spat, tugging on Viktor’s arm for emphasis, his spare hand tightening into a fist. “I’m it’s hope for progress. You could never be that, not some cripple from the Undercity.”

“Ah, there we are. A slight glimmer of your true colours-” Viktor was interrupted by Jayce’s fist hitting his jawbone, forcing him backwards and to lose his balance. His cane couldn’t keep him steady, and he hit the ground. Jayce stood over him, a look of anger and possessiveness creating a shadow over him. He kicked Viktor in his small stomach, causing him to cough. He repeated this, over and over again until it was blood he spluttered onto the floor.

“I know you hate me. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to let you leave,” Jayce panted.

“I never wanted to hate you. I never used to. I loved you. But you became the man who uses me like a whore and a punching bag. So look where we are,” Viktor wheezed, pain in his deep brown eyes but the slight hint of stubborn determination shining through.

[halevetica]

I posted 2,037 times in 2022

25 posts created (1%)

2,012 posts reblogged (99%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@quinn-of-aebradore

@mcdannoangelwolf

@thatelyguy

@livebloggingmydescentintomadness

@dean-you-assbutt-cas-loves-you

I tagged 161 of my posts in 2022

#malex - 25 posts

#roswell new mexico - 22 posts

#arcane - 21 posts

#sterek - 14 posts

#stiles stilinski - 10 posts

#derek hale - 10 posts

#veti talks - 10 posts

#viktor - 9 posts

#my writing-h - 8 posts

#stiles x derek - 8 posts

Longest Tag: 88 characters

#i was literally ran off the road by a group of 30 that were taking up an entire backroad

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Leave Me In Ruins(Sterek)

The sound of close footsteps pulled Derek from his slumber. Without opening his eyes, he let out a heavy sigh, “Stiles.”

Stiles stopped his pacing and whirled towards the bed where Derek was now pinching the sleep from his eyes. As he sat up, the blanket fell from his bare chest.

Stiles swallowed as he recalled bracing himself on that exact spot the night before.

“What are you doing?” Derek asked, his brows raised in question.

“I…didn’t want to just…leave but I didn’t think you’d want me to stay and so…” Stiles gestured to the room as if that was explanation enough. His teeth worried the bottom of his lip as his widened eyes remained on Derek.

“So you’re pacing in front of my bed?”

Stiles licked his lips, “I don’t want this to change anything,” he spoke quietly between them.

Derek’s expression darkened slightly, “You regret it,” despite the serious look on his face, his tone was apologetic.

“No,” Stiles blurted, “No, no way. Uh uh, definitely don’t regret…any of it,” Stiles pushed down the memory of Derek’s mouth on him as he gestured wildly in an attempt to convince Derek.

A small smile pulled at Derek’s lips briefly.

“Do…you?” Stiles asked, his hand rubbing at the back of his neck as he waited for Derek’s answer.

Derek remained silent for a moment. His immediate response was yes, but not in the way Stiles would think. He regretted the circumstances. He regretted that they weren’t on the same page. But he didn’t for a second regret being able to touch and hold Stiles the way he had last night. Even now the smell of Stiles was still heavy on his sheets and there was nothing that could make him regret that.

“You can say yes,” Stiles’ voice was small yet understanding.

He was unnervingly still for the first time. It was always a sure sign that something was wrong. It made Derek’s wolf squirm. He hated when something was wrong with a pack member.

“I don’t,” Derek answered though his tone was unsteady.

“That was convincing,” Stiles nodded, running a hand over his face. “Listen, I don’t want you to think that I…expect anything to come of that. We both…were…in a delicate place and…I recognize that we made a mistake.”

Derek’s shoulders straightened.

“I mean, if it had to be anybody, I’m glad it was you because I…think…you won’t let this change anything. Cause Derek this can’t change anything. I can’t…you’re too important to…I just need you to tell me this isn’t gonna change anything,” Stiles’ tongue swiped across his bottom lip before he dug his teeth into it once again.

The smell of worry and anxiety swept over Derek. He could hear the heavy thudding of Stiles’ heartbeat. The gentle tapping of his fingers against the side of his leg was nearly as deafening.

“This won’t change anything,” Derek agreed, desperate to comfort Stiles.

Stiles deflated as he let out a relieved sigh, “Good. Good. Thank you.”

“But I don’t regret it,” Derek couldn’t let Stiles think that was true. “I very much enjoyed it. But I recognize that it was…” Derek paused. “A mistake.”

The words were sour on his tongue.

Stiles nodded, “Yeah. Okay. Umm, maybe we don’t tell anyone?”

“I think that’s best,” Derek nodded. He did not want to have to explain to Scott or Malia that he had slept with their best friend and ex-boyfriend.

“Great, then I will…go,” Stiles gestured towards the door, studying Derek’s face for any clue that this conversation wasn’t over.

“Wait,” Derek slid from between the covers.

Stiles swallowed, forcing himself to keep his eyes on Derek’s face.

Derek stepped close, and inhaled, “You smell like me.” He closed his eyes, trying to commit the scent to memory. The smell of him on Stiles like this was…euphoric.

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28 notes - Posted April 5, 2022

#4

So, I rarely do any kind of 'self promotion' on here but I thought why not... so for all my Sterek fans:

These are two current WIPs of mine:

Leave Me in Ruins - Derek finds himself in a difficult spot when he mistakenly sleeps with Stiles. The two agree to forget it but Derek can't.

Before long its becoming a regular thing, now Derek has to deal with the issue of falling even more for Stiles or losing him all together.

Stiles never dreamed of waking up next to Derek but it's now a regular thing. However, he has to keep his emotions in check so Derek doesn't realize how he truly feels all while keep their 'relationship' a secret from the pack and dealing with the new big bad of Beacon Hills.

Like it or Not- Stiles works as the editorial assistant at Vogue. He loves everything about his job except for his boss, Derek Hale. Derek Hale is the worst and Stiles hates him.

But when Derek drags him to the yearly awards dinner within the company, he is forced to play boyfriend for the night to make Derek's ex jealous. Things couldn't get much worse...or so Stiles thought. 

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54 notes - Posted November 30, 2022

#3

Here it is guys! It's finally done! 125k words! What a journey! Thank you all for your comments and kudos and support!! Love you all!

86 notes - Posted June 16, 2022

#2

Some of you need a reminder that fanfic is not written for you. It is shared with you. Act accordingly.

175 notes - Posted June 1, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Feels Like Home

Derek sat outside of the small coffee shop watching young couples, overworked mothers, and tired college students come and go. He held his own steaming cup in his hands. His jacket pulled tightly around him, his scarf wrapped around his neck. It was a bit too cold to be sitting outside. Not many others were and not for long, but Derek needed this. He needed something to kill the whirring in his chest. It felt like a hurricane under his skin. At first he thought it was him being homesick but when he visited Beacon Hills, nothing was the same. Stiles had joined the FBI. Isaac had moved to France. Lydia went off to some fancy school. Scott became a vet in Los Angeles. His house had been torn down and was now being turned into a park.

The feeling only continued to get worse. He felt restless. He had been traveling since he split from Braden almost four years ago. He never stayed anywhere long because it felt wrong. Nowhere felt like home anymore. He was a drifter with nothing to root him into place. He'd even visited Cora for a few months before having to move on.

Now he sat at a small coffee shop in New York City seeking comfort in the faint memories he'd made here years ago with Laura. They'd sit at this very table and people watch for hours. Laura would make up stories about the bickering couple that walked by, or the teenagers seeking their caffeine high for the day.

Derek watched a mother with their teenage daughter walk by. He imagined what Laura would say about them.

Perhaps she'd claim the mother was lecturing her daughter about choosing boys over her grades while the daughter ignored her in favor of texting her friends.

The thought brought a smile to his face. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. The cold November air burned his lungs. The sun would be setting soon and it would be too cold to people watch. He tipped back the last of his coffee and stood to make his way...somewhere. Back to the hotel he was staying in? That thought made his chest tighten. Perhaps he'd find something to occupy himself on the way.

He tossed his empty cup into the nearby trash and headed down the busy sidewalk. He was never a fan of big cities. It had too many scents and noises. Laura said that was what made it the perfect place to live until they knew they were safe from hunters.

Derek tried not to breath too deep as he continued down the sidewalk. He let his feet carry him aimlessly through the crowded streets, navigating traffic and pedestrians with ease, until he found himself standing at the entrance of central park.

Laura loved to go running here. It was the closest thing to home at the time. Derek had rolled his eyes claiming the handful of trees didn't compare to the reserve. He stood by that even now. Though lately even the reserve didn't feel like home.

He closed his eyes and imagined Laura's laughter as she taunted him for lagging behind. She had always been faster and stronger than him.

"Derek?" A familiar voice yanked him from his memory.

He opened his eyes to see Stiles Stilinski walking towards him from the park's entrance. He looked older than the last time Derek had seen him. His hair was longer and his jaw more chiseled. He had stubble that shadowed his chin and cheeks. It was a good look.

"Dude, what are you doing here?" Stiles asked, coming in for a hug.

Derek reciprocated the hug awkwardly, still caught off guard by the sudden appearance of an old pack member.

"I uh, I'm in town for a bit," Derek answered lamely. He didn't know what he was doing here. Chasing old memories in search of comfort? That wasn't something he wanted to admit to.

"How long?" Stiles asked shifting a bag on his shoulder.

"I'm not sure. What are you doing here?" Derek had thought Stiles was in Virgina.

"I took a job here about six months ago, working with the local FBI."

"Oh. That's great." Derek forced a smile. Stiles seemed different. Happy maybe.

"Are you busy?" Stiles glanced around as if expecting to see someone else with Derek.

"No, I was just..." Derek gestured to the park.

Stiles raised a brow but didn't pry when Derek didn't elaborate.

Derek's chest warmed. He forgot how understanding Stiles was. He never had to explain himself to him.

"Well, I was thinking of grabbing something to eat. If you have the time...you should join me."

Derek smelled the caution in Stiles' scent. He smiled. "I'd like that."

Stiles beamed. He'd clearly been expecting a rejection.

-

As they walked, Stiles caught Derek up on his life. Derek listened intently being sure to ask questions to keep the conversation on Stiles.

It wasn't until they were seated at the table in the small Italian restaurant that Stiles gave Derek a pointed look.

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315 notes - Posted October 25, 2022

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[that-salty-ghost]

As Above, So Below | Chapter 25: For Good Luck | Viktor [Arcane] // Male Reader | Rating: M Throughout

A/N: Forgot to post this on here like a month ago oopsies

Word Count: ~3.1k Summary: Viktor gambles with you in more ways than one and you meet some interesting folks at the tavern Tags: drinking, swearing, gambling, smoking, the usual Last Chpt: Date Night Pt 2 Sinking Ship

// 🎧 Mood Music: Sinners by Barns Courtney 🎧 \\

Check my pinned post for more details/previous chapters/etc.

The main floor of the inn is a tavern, flooded with faces you’ve never seen before that barely pay you any mind despite your still damp attire.

The bar is packed with people and you squeeze behind Viktor while he asks the innkeeper about room availability. You take in your surroundings and notice a pair getting heated over a game of darts, tables of people playing card and dice games, stew and baked bread being served to travelers that looked even more weary than you, and a woman eyeing Viktor fondly off to the side as you hear him say “Is there a chance one might become available?”

Shit. The place must be full up.

You watch as Viktor must’ve felt eyes on him, turning to see the woman smiling at him before he looks back to you. The small lift of his brows serving as a sign that he wasn’t expecting you to be so tightly packed in with him. Still, he smiles softly as he takes you in—seeming comfortable with the closer proximity as he speaks.

“How many cogs do you have?”

“They have rooms?” You ask as you dig in your holster, brandishing a few silver coins from the cutpurse earlier on. You thought you had more, but they must’ve fallen out in the river…along with your pride.

“Room.” He clarifies as he pulls out his own coins and holds his hand out to take yours. “The most expensive one—this whole side of the city has no vacancy. Apparently, there’s some festival going on tomorrow.”

“…So, I don’t get that cheap room after all?”

Viktor grins slyly, holding back a laugh as he shuffles through the combined cogs in his hand. “Disappointing, I know.”

His teasing makes you grin back as you watch him count the amount, his mouth moving silently along as he does. “But for what it’s worth, I do enjoy festivals.” He adds in between his mental math.

“I do too, I don’t get to go very often.” You admit before glancing out the window. Frost glistens at the corners and judging by the haze in the lights it looks like it might start to snow soon. “I bet it’s for the winter season coming up.”

“If you’re not an icicle by morning maybe we can catch it.” He glances up and winks playfully, making you smile ear to ear until he finishes counting with a disgruntled hum.

“We’re ten shy…any ideas?”

The sounds of the tavern call your attention as you scan the room. The buzz of bar talk and laughter rings in your ears as you see a couple tables with coin laid down as they play cards. “Huh. Doesn’t look like these bar games are just for fun.”

Viktor nods steadily as he follows your gaze and your thought process. “Mm…gambling?”

“Looks that way.” You watch as he tilts his head, considering that reality. “See anything you think you would win?”

Dexterous fingers divvy up the cogs in hand while he peers around the tables, pausing at one in particular with both cards and a wooden board riddled with holes. Eyes light up with arched brows as he nods. “Yes, I believe so…what about you?”

If the book club has taught you anything it’s that bar flies can and will kick your ass at cards. Your focus falls back to the dart board, only hesitating when you look at your bruised knuckle—a slight tremble still afflicting your dominant hand. “Maybe…”

Viktor watches your gaze travel from the board to your hand, biting his lip as the gears turn in his head.

You keep focus on the two throwing darts, trying to listen in on what they’re so heated about. The noise of the crowd drowns out most of their conversation, but it sounds like they can’t find one of their friends. When you turn back you find Viktor staring at the small scar on your cheek.

Had he not noticed it yet? Peculiar thought, considering he ran his thumb across it in the boat. Curiosity gets the best of you.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

A quick shake of his head brushes off whatever he was thinking about before he hands over your half of the cogs.

“I’m afraid you can’t afford that right now.”

Eyes wide and mouth agape, you cough out a laugh at his audacity. While he wasn’t completely wrong, his sense of humor easily catches you by surprise. Almost as much as his words of encouragement.

“But something tells me that you have a knack for getting what you want.” Whiskey eyes begin to drink you up and down playfully.

“Thaaat only happens when my luck isn’t dying a slow, agonizing death.” It’s a pitiful thought considering how unfortunately said luck as played out so far tonight.

“Ah, well in that case…” It all happens so quickly that you barely have time to process, let alone react to what’s happening.

As Viktor moves to step past you, he pushes his weight into his cane to turn and place his hand on your shoulder, eyes scanning your reaction while he holds you gently in place. Your heart jumps in your chest, unsure of what he’s doing but choosing to just trust him.

So, you stay still for him.

You catch the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth when he realizes what you’re doing and leans forward until you feel his lips press lightly against your cheek—kissing the faded scar where fletching from your arrow carved into you years ago. Heat rises to where his lips touch your skin and lingers even after he pulls away. With a crooked smile, he finishes his sentence before turning to make his way to the cribbage table.

“For good luck, of course.”

All you can manage is a dumbstruck expression as Viktor walks away—talking up the table to see if he can join the next game. You can distinguish his voice among the others, smooth and charming as always and aren’t surprised in the slightest when they offer him a chair.

You have to bite back the goofy grin trying to creep its way onto your lips as you walk towards the dart board. A new felt confidence rising within as you press now steady fingers to your cheek, whispering to no one.

“Of course…”

Maybe it’s the fact that your clothes were still damp. Maybe it’s because this group was already on edge. Or maybe you just simply aren’t as charismatic as Viktor, but joining the dart game was damn near impossible.

“We’re playing pairs, don’t have room for another.” A short man with dark hair tied up explains as the other eyes your clothes in disdain. At first glance the two men seem pretty ordinary, not wearing anything particularly eye-catching until you see their shoes.

Shiny buckles, polished leather without wear or tear, barely even a scuff on the soles.

Perfect, they’re topsiders.

Which means they’re loaded.

You notice the scorecard on the table next to them and see initials listed ‘DV | JT | JF’, cocking your brow with a grin when they see you catch them up in a lie about how many are in their group.

“If you’re scared of losing you just have to say so.” You tease at their egos, knowing it’ll only make it easier to get in on a game and win some coin as long as your hand behaves.

“Like hell, you look like you just crawled out of a sewer.”

The shorter man chimes in after his friend. “Can you even afford a wager?”

You hold out half the cogs that you have before tucking them back into your holster, grateful that their cocky expressions died down at least a little bit as you answer.

“Yeah. I think I can manage. Can you?”

“Don’t insult us.” The man with his hair in a ponytail holds out his share, the other follows showing his bet as well.

“Good, sounds like we have a game.” You glance at the scorecard again then back up. “So, where’s your third? Are they in?”

“We don’t know where the hell he ran off t—”

“Sorry!” A voice comes up from behind you, slightly out of breath as his steps hurry towards the group. “I found a pawn shop at the night market—couldn’t resist.”

Your attention shifts to the man coming up behind you. He’s a bit taller than you, clean-cut with dark hair and muscles that line his entire frame. The definition of a ‘pretty boy’ with a perfect pearly-white smile to match.

“Cigars. You had one job—pick up some cigars.”

Your ears perk up as you watch the newcomer set a wooden box down on the table, Remy’s seal holding the lid securely until they tear it open. The scent of tobacco mixed with molasses and clove fills the air and you recognize the blend immediately.

“Went with the Slow Burn collection, huh?”

All three sets of eyes are fixed on you, but your focus is on the one who brought the box. It looks like the first time he even realizes you’re there, looking to his friends in confusion then back to you.

“Yeah…the person at the cart said this R&R’s place is the best tobacconist in the undercity.”

“Oh, good to know.” You play with fire and attempt to figure out where the hell you are. “Where’s this ‘R&R’ place at?”

“The merchant said it’s about 4 miles up the ro—sorry, who are you?”

Fuck. That’s…not close, but that’s a problem for tomorrow.

“Oh sorry, I was just asking your friends if you’d be interested in a game?” Your eyes flit to the dart board then back. “Maybe throw some coin down—make it a little interesting?”

He glances at the other two. Ponytail shrugs while the other glares you down until he searches through the box. “Did you get a straight cutter? A light?”

The silence that follows the question has you rummaging in your holster as you anticipate pretty boy’s disappointing answer.

“I—no…I’ve never smoked before! I didn’t even think about—”

You interrupt with a shake of the waterproof matchbox you snagged from the boat; gods rest its soul. All eyes on you again until the one with the long hair speaks up. “Do you have a cutter too?”

“No, but if you give me one of those cigars, I’ll show you how to smoke without one.”

Did you need to take one of their cigars?

No.

But telling yourself that it’ll take the chill out of your bones was helping you feel less guilty about practically stealing a cigar from these poor Pilties. Can’t throw darts if you’re shivering, can you?

Course not.

“Can’t you just bite the tip off?” Between the wording of that sentence and the shorter man’s furrowed brows, it takes all the power in your being not to laugh. Must be the first time any of them have tried cigars.

“Uhh cap, not tip.” You start with a grimace. “And sure, if you want to fuck it up and have a shit smoke.” You shrug nonchalantly. “I’d do that with cheaper cigars though, not those.”

Although the two men you initially met seem put off by your deal, the pretty one is eagerly handing over one of his…well, your cigars to show him what to do.

“You got something that can create a puncture?” You ask before watching the stranger’s face light up, flashing a small gap in his toothy grin.

“Sure do.” He digs through a rucksack before holding out a miniature screwdriver. “Just got it from that pawn shop I was talking about.” As if to redeem himself for forgetting a cutter, the man shoots a glare over to the others before handing it over.

Vibrations trickle into your fingertips as you reach to take the tool from him. You hesitate as the veins that map your hands feel like they’re burning up and glance over to find curious eyes weighing on you. You shake off the sensation and grab the screwdriver to show the class how to puncture the cap…not tip.

It’s going to take a lot of effort and therapy to unhear ‘bite the tip off’.

“I’m assuming Dimitri and Fisher didn’t volunteer to be your partner.” The man asks, his eyes studying your movements and committing them to memory for next time.

Another glance to the scorecard then back to your task at hand has you putting the pieces together.

‘DV and JF—Dimitri and Fisher, that’s their names. Which just leaves JT…’

“That would be an accurate assumption.” You light up your cigar, the ‘J’ guy watching and learning until you pass the screwdriver and matches over to him. “From the looks of that scorecard though that’s not a bad thing.”

He laughs loudly at your insult and starts to puncture and light his own cigar. “Then it looks like we’re partners. I’m Jayce.”

Before he pulls the match away you instinctively reach out to stop him. “Wait ‘til the entire end is lit.” You put two fingers on his wrist to hold it there longer and feel a low, familiar buzz of energy shoot through your fingers, causing you to pull back immediately.

Jayce looks down as you pull your hand back and you speak up quickly. “Sorry, weird static…shock.” You try to explain away. Even if it’s not at all what that felt like. “Uh my name’s—I’m…” You hesitate to use your real name, not trusting strangers from topside with it. “Gray.”

…Can’t get more anonymous than that.

The raw energy running through your hands was baffling. You hadn’t felt this much power since you had a crystal set in your bow years ago. Despite the amount of time that had passed, you recognized the sensation like it was yesterday…but why now?

You glance over to find Viktor hard at work on the cribbage board—making small talk and fitting in well with his table. His peck on your cheek still stirred up warmth in your stomach…could that trigger this sort of reaction from you?

It seemed unlikely…but at the same time you’ve never really felt this way about anyone before.

“Alright, what’re we playing?” Dimitri interrupts your thoughts and Jayce is quick to answer.

“How about ‘Gotcha’?” He turns to check in with you. “You ever played?”

“Yeah—first to 301. Try and match your opponent’s score on the way up to put them back at zero.” You smirk when Dimitri and Fisher lay their coins on the table, adding your own with a quick glance to your new partner. “Let’s take your friends’ money.”

Jayce proved to be a lot of things tonight. A terrible smoker who needed to spit every few minutes from not being used to the sensation. A decent man who never once asked why you smelled like a kraken’s ass (if they even have one?) And a formidable dart player that made you wonder if he was an archer like you too.

The two of you had the best game you could account for. You weren’t sure why your abilities had popped up and stuck around for as long as they had, but you were able to keep your hand steady and zero in on each and every shot, making quick work of getting your share of coins for the night.

“You up for another one?” Jayce seems to be having fun with you. As much as you enjoyed his company, trusting topsiders was not on your agenda tonight.

“I try not to feed my gambling habits when I’m ahead.” You lie with a small chuckle. “But thanks for playing, it was a good game.”

“Really good. We make a decent team.” He holds his hand out for you to shake before finishing his thought. “Maybe our paths will cross again.”

You can’t help but smile at his wholesome grin, offering your hand out as well. “Maybe.” When you make contact, it feels like the air got knocked out of you, immediately causing your muscles to tense and the hair to stand up on the back of your neck.

You look down and narrow your eyes at his hand, trying to find the source of what keeps sending surges through you. “What the fuck is happen—” You cut your sentence off when you see he’s wearing a bracelet, a small blue crystal set into the leather.

A near twin to the one that was faceted in your bow.

And an explanation for what’s causing your magic to go haywire tonight.

You instinctively flip his hand over to get a better look, feeling him resist only slightly as you flick your gaze back up to him. “Where did you get this?”

He pulls his hand away and eyes you up and down defensively. “Why do you care?”

Fisher and Dimitri look completely lost at this entire exchange. You study Jayce’s expression further, unsure if he understands what he has attached to his wrist.

“My sister collects rocks—her birthday was yesterday and she would love it.” You shrug with a grin and pull out all of the cogs in your holster. “I’ll play you for it.”

The two men go wide-eyed at your wager, then back to Jayce. Half of your bet was a bluff. If he was as clueless as the others, he would take the wager in a heartbeat.

But if he did know what it was…

“No. I think I’m done for the night.”

Then that’s exactly what he would say.

As if Syd herself manifested in your mind, you push the topic and call out his inconsistencies.

“But you just said you were in for another?”

“Yeah, but you’re right. Better to stop while I’m ahead.”

“Why the sudden change of heart?”

“I—just. I—"

“Jayce, take the bet.” Fisher looks appalled at his friend’s resistance to playing for the absurd number of coins you’re offering. “It’s a rock man, they’re all over the place. I’ll get you another one.”

You see your partner subtly shake his head, a silent ‘No, you won’t’ that you could respect completely. You’re not sure why he has a crystal, he doesn’t seem to be a mage—if he is he has to be a worse one than you. But he recognizes the value of it at least.

You nod, reluctantly giving up the game to respect his wishes.

“I understand.” You hold eye contact with him, your words holding more meaning than one.

“I don’t.” Fisher all but barks back as you take your leave. You turn your head as you walk away with your winnings, enjoying the energy coursing through your veins while it lasts.

“Get a cutter with that prize money, Jayce.” You joke before walking away, a slight grin pulling at your lips when you hear his answer.

“Get some clean clothes, Gray.”

----------

A/N: Fun fact, Fisher is based on a real person/stranger I met while I was playing darts one night. I'll never know what his last name was but his first was Juan, hence his initials being JF :) Low key though he had hella reader energy, I got hustled pretty good that night.

As always thanks for reading!

Cheers,

Ghost

[that-salty-ghost]

As Above, So Below | Chapter 24: Date Night Pt 2: Sinking Ship | Viktor [Arcane] // Male Reader | Rating: M Throughout

A/N: I was high af on NyQuil writing half of this and sick with covid the other half so this chapter has ✨personality✨ Word Count: ~5k Summary: Viktor's idea of a good time is a felony Tags: drinking, swearing, crimes, mention of drowning Last Chpt: Date Night Pt 1: Not So Smooth Sailing Check my pinned post for more details/previous chapters/etc.

The two of you pack up as it starts to get dark and follow the river back—catching up about Viktor’s day along with his lack of luck with finding a new work space.

“You’ll find the right one. Do you need a lot of space or something?”

“Not at all, in fact I’d rather sacrifice square footage if it meant I could use more funds for higher grade materials.”

“What kind of materials are you looking for?”

Viktor’s eyes light up as he sorts through his mental checklist. “I’m still developing the blueprints, but so far I know I’ll need titanium and ehh…either charcoal or activated carbon.”

You purse your lips as you look up, gaze unfocused while you run through where you could trade for those goods, especially the last one. “I could help with that if you want? Least I can do if you’re interested in helping me with metalwork?”

“Yes.” His eager smile spreads easily to you. “Yes, I think we’d make a good team.”

“I think so too…Oh! Speaking of work—” You turn your body as you go through one of your holsters, catching Viktor’s attention as you find the goggles and pull them out. “I’m not sure if these are your style, but I thought they might come in handy when you find your lab space.”

You hold them out hesitantly, unsure of what he’ll think of your Piltie-purchased wares. Reading him is tough, his brows furrow in confusion as he takes the goggles from you, eyes softening the more he inspects them.

That’s gotta be a good sign, right?

“Consider it an early housewarming—err—labwarming…present.” You stutter and cringe at yourself as you try to bounce back. “And uh…just a gift for…you…too.”

Fuck’s sakes, just stop talking.

A small smile parts his lips, brows flicking quickly before he looks back up at you. There’s not much distance between you and you swallow nervously when his eyes catch yours.

You open your mouth to speak, but can only inhale sharply when you feel Viktor’s arms around you—pulling you close to his chest as his fingers find purchase across your shoulders. The initial shock of it all causes you to freeze, arms stiff at your sides until you realize what’s happening. Slowly, you move your hands up until you’re wrapped around the small of his back, happily returning his embrace.

His hips are narrower that you were expecting as you your arms enfold him. Steady, measured breaths fill his chest that presses gently against yours, lowering your heart rate with each inhale as your body heat courses through one another.

The way his hair tickles your ear makes you accidentally nuzzle into his neck and you pause, horrified that you’ll scare him off. A soft sound leaves him at the sensation, a mix between a chuckle and a sigh before he leans the side of his head against yours in return, breath warm against your skin as his low whisper sends a shiver through your entire being.

“Thank you.”  

You can’t fight the urge to lean in closer to his touch, lips almost grazing his ear as you answer with a breathy “You’re welcome.” A soft grin teases its way onto your face when you feel the muscles in his back tense up, a small display that you’re having the same effect on him as you revel in the way his grip tightens around your shoulders.

When he eventually pulls away, a pitiful noise almost escapes as his warmth leaves you. But the way he drags his hands from your shoulders to your chest heats you right back up. Your mouth remains parted as you watch him trace his fingers along the leather of your holsters.

“This is resourceful.” He states as he studies the tool. “You have any other gifts hiding in here?”

The way his knuckles dip under the strap across your chest causes him to pull you forward just slightly. You feel your head tip up unconsciously as you exhale through your mouth, giving him better access with eyes wide open when you see him notice the subtle movement. He tilts his head down and to the side while his smug grin spreads like wildfire.

Fuck. He knows you’re enjoying this.

“I left your chocolates at home.” You blurt out as your heart thumps from your chest into the back of Viktor’s hand. He cocks a brow and loosens his grip on your holster.

“You…got me chocolates?”

“Uh, accidentally a little. Yeah. They were for my sister…I guess.”

“You have a sister?”

“No.”

“…Oh.”

You bite your knuckle before resting your chin on your fist.

‘STOP. FUCKING. TALKING.���

Viktor licks his lips with a small grin while he allows his fingers to release their hold on the leather strap—seeming to understand that he just short-circuited your brain. “I actually brought you something too.”

“Y—you did?”

“Yes. But I think there’s a better way to enjoy it than what I originally had in mind…”

Your confusion only fuels Viktor’s mischievous expression as he continues walking with you by the river. He starts to better take in his surroundings, scanning the area and then the water. You’ve both gotten pretty far away from the city so you’re not sure what he could be looking for out here.

“I’m intrigued.” You bite your lip as you glance around with him. “What are you doing?”

“Checking to see if the coast is clear. Keep an eye out?”

You turn around to watch the land as he walks down towards the water. “For what? What am I even looking for?”

“People—just make sure no one can see us.”

Surprised and puzzled by his words, your brows rise like the heat rushing from your neck into your ears. Your breath picks up as your imagination runs wild with the possibilities of what this is going to lead to. “What…don’t we want them to see?”

“This.”

The sound of water sloshing disrupts the quiet and you turn to find Viktor tugging a small boat closer to the dock. Your eyes widen as you take in the sight, your jaw slack in disbelief.

“What do you mean this, what are you doing?!” You half whisper, half yell while he looks completely at ease committing grand theft auto.

“Seeing where the night takes us!” Viktor half whispers, half shouts back as he shrugs his pack into the boat. “You said that sounded good!”

“I thought that meant getting a cheap room at an inn, not committing a felony!”

“A cheap room?” There’s a definite stillness in the air now. He looks over at you and your face turns red when you see a sly grin cross his lips. “For what?”

“…Talking.”

“Mm.” His brows cock as he tips his head up, clearly not buying it before humming again. “Mmhm.” He nods and glances back at the vessel, almost looking like he’s considering your option anyway…until he throws his cane into the boat.

“Oops. Now I have no choice.”

“Oops, my ass!” There’s not much you can do as you watch Viktor crouch down to get into the boat. The sound of him laughing quietly fills the air as you start to jog over to get into the goddamned thing with him.

After Viktor helps you climb in, you dig your feet into the dock and push off—sending you out a small distance until he hands you one of the paddles. “Have you done this before?” You ask as you take the wooden oar from him.

“Theft or rowing?”

“…How about both?”

“I’ve never rowed a boat before.” He shifts his gaze towards your arms as he puts his paddle in the water, keeping time with your strokes on the other side. “But we seem to be doing quite well, don’t you think?”

You contemplate the way he answered that question and your eyes widen at the man sitting across from you with a lopsided grin. “WHAT ELSE HAVE YOU STOLEN, VIKTOR?!”

“Shhh—hhfff—shh!” He can’t finish his attempt to quiet you as his shushing sounds get caught up into laughter while you yell at him. He’s unable to keep a straight face as he tries to bring a finger to his lips, making you laugh as well until you’re both cracking up at how ridiculous this entire situation is.

The two of you ease into paddling further out on the river and you finally settle down once you realize no one is missing this boat right now. Once you’re a good distance out from the shore, you both pull the oars back into the vessel so you can sit and drift for a while.

You catch Viktor rolling his wrist and your eyes lock momentarily, but neither of you speak about it. Instead, he moves to go through in his pack with a huff, sounding frustrated when you hear him mumble “It got dark so fast…”

“I think this is a fishing boat…” You start before you feel around under your seat, switching to Viktor’s when you come up empty. “There’s gotta be someth—here we go!” You pull a lantern out from under him along with a small box of waterproof matches.

Once lit, Viktor’s eyes are the first thing you notice. A mix of appreciation and admiration of your quick work that he verbalizes with a soft “Well done.” before he finally finds a couple of tin cups to hand over to you. “Precursors to your gift, as promised.”

“I like where this is going.” You grin as he digs deeper until he brandishes a green-tinted bottle. “Ooh. I love where this is going…is—is that gin?”

“Your favorite, right?”

“Yeah…how’d you—”

“Remy told me.” He holds his hand out, asking for one of the cups and starts to pour the liquor for you.

“Remy tells you my favorite drink, Landon tells you about my cooking habits…” Viktor doesn’t look up—only flashes a wily grin at your accusation.

“You heard about that, eh?” His smile softens as he hands off the now full cup, you trade him for the empty one so he can pour himself one as well.

“Did you know they put bets on us going out?”

He looks up with his brows raised and shakes his head, seemingly still amused. “No, but I imagine Landon won.”

“He did. Free brunch.” Lazily, you swirl the liquor in your cup as the lantern’s dim light highlights the edges of Viktor’s high cheekbones. Your gaze shifts to the water to distract your urge to trace his jawline with your fingertips.

“High stakes to be sure.” He goes to cork the glass until you notice how full it is.

“That a new bottle?” You nod at the gin and Viktor pauses, glancing at the drink then back to you.

“Yes…why?”

“We have this tradition-turned-ghost-story where if you don’t pour one out from a new bottle, it’s bad luck.”

“Are you superstitious?” His eyes flicker playfully under the light of small flame, catching the flecks of gold and amber in his irises and only furthering the certainty in your voice.

“I know my father’s ghost would have no qualms capsizing the fuck out of this boat given the opportunity.”

“So, we pour one out not in memoriam, but to appease your father’s spirit?”

“Angry spirit. He died mad at me.” You raise your brows towards the bottle and dip your head down. “Unless you wanna test our luck even further tonight.”

“No. No, I don’t want that.” He chuckles, tipping the bottle over the edge of the boat until the liquid meets the water with a small trickle. He looks over the side and pulls the gin back, corking it as he watches the water. “I hope I didn’t just kill a school of fish with that.”

“Pour one out for them too.”

Viktor’s eyes go wide as he slowly turns his head towards you, fraught with both disbelief and good humor.

“Sorry, cheers.” You tip your cup to his, making him shift his gaze to his drink and break his disturbed expression when a breathy laugh leaves him.

“Yes, cheers.”

A small “Mm.” escapes you as the cold drink sends liquid heat down your chest. Your eyes fall shut as you enjoy how notes of juniper and coriander flood your senses. He brought really good gin.

“I hope that was a sound of approval?”

“More than approval, this is divine.”

“Mm…that’s good to know.”

His voice dips, sultry and smooth like the liquor lingering on your palate. You struggle to believe that he’s referring to the quality of the gin and open your eyes to find him looking completely content.

“Wh—what’s good to know?”

Viktor takes a sip, eyeing you carefully with a slow arch of his brows and equally slow shrug of his shoulders.

His silence leaves just enough room for interpretation to drive you mad and your hesitance to respond is met with a change in subject. “Is this your first time on a boat?”

“…Yes.” You answer through a held breath. “Is this your first act of piracy?”

“It’s not piracy if we’re borrowing it.”

“Sounds like something a pirate would say.”

Hours pass like minutes as you both float with the current. Formalities fall away as cups are traded for the two of you taking swigs straight from the bottle in between your laughter and lighthearted conversations.

Viktor spreads out bit by bit as the night goes on—one leg stretching on the outside of yours, slightly bumping against your calf when he laughs or moves to hand off the gin. You’re not sure if he notices or is aware of the contact, but you’re not complaining in the slightest.

You sit comfortably with your elbows perched on your knees, leaning forward to offer him the bottle and briefly exchanging glances when your fingertips brush against one another’s.

His arm leans casually on the side of the boat, tipping and rolling the bottle around as both of you muse over designing a robot that could help with all of Runterra’s problems.

…Sort of.

“Like a drinking buddy that wouldn’t let us get too blitzed like last time…and could crank up that boat for us too.” Your aspirations are nothing shy of a hot mess right now.

“I’m proposing something along the lines of a golem that provides more of an environmental impact with the capacity to rebui—”

“Blitzcrank.”

“What?”

You don’t mean to cut him off, but your filter is starting to wane with each pass of the liquor bottle. “That’s what I would name him. A responsible drinking buddy that help cranks the boat.”

“Blitzcrank.” Viktor chuckles softly before arching a brow with a tilt of his head. “I’ll have to keep that in mind.” He takes a small sip, holding eye contact with you before leaning forward to pass the bottle back. “We could probably use him right now.”

“Hah. Maybe so.”

A breeze picks up and the corner of your mouth curls when Viktor’s hair gets swept up in it. Nimble fingers weave through dark locks, pushing them back out of his eyes that study you so meticulously.

It doesn’t take long for you to get lost in the haze of his golden-amber while he watches the way your lower lip rests against the mouth of the bottle. Gaze flipping eagerly to your Adam’s apple when you swallow and back to your eyes when you offer the drink back.

“Not to be a…y’know, bartender…but your eyes sort of remind me of whiskey.”

Viktor pauses, seemingly surprised by your observation when he picks up the gin. “Is that so?” Curiosity plagues his grin as his lips graze the mouth of the bottle when he speaks.

You nod slowly, watching him carefully as you become increasingly more envious of the bottle he’s sipping from.

“What kind of whiskey?”

He holds onto the gin and leans forward as you study his irises, a perfect blend of cloudy and bright as the effects of alcohol feud with his desire for more details.

“For the color…I’d say a bourbon.” When you tilt your head to get a better look, the fire from the lantern dances frantically with gilded gold, shifting your standpoint just slightly. “Mm…one with honey in it.” You conclude, pleased when you see color begin to warm his cheeks.

You watch as he fidgets with the bottle, expression inquisitive while he takes in your every word as you continue. “But the intensity—”

Your attention shifts when you look down to find his knee is now pressed just inside of your own, the bottle dangling lazily in his grip as he lifts it up for you. When his fingers brush yours he lets them remain for a second longer while his eyes burn wildly under heavy brows.

“Intensity?” He smirks playfully, rolling his thumb over your fingertips that immediately shoots fire up your arm before letting go. You bite your lip trying to hang onto your composure before he encourages you to continue. “Go on…”

He watches you with interest as you cork and set the bottle down, even though you’re mentally clinging to it for the rest of your courage as the conversation becomes less and less about whiskey.

“The intensity is more like a rye...” Silence fills the air, making it impossible to not feel your heart pounding in your ears while he considers that comparison.

Viktor leans further towards you, head slightly tilted down as his words drip low and slow. “What makes rye so much more…” A subtle grin barely parts his lips, eyes scanning you up and down quickly before he finishes his question. “Mm…intense?”

You swallow your nerves as you start to move closer—his leg now nested in between yours while he rests his hand on the inside of your knee. Fingertips beckoning you towards him one-by-one, inch-by-inch with the lightest touch as they slowly tug and trail along your leg.

“It was the first drink we had together—you don’t remember?” You grin, thinking about how his eyes fell shut while he basked in the heat of the sage-infused rye you shared at The Last Drop.

His own grin grows slyer by the second. You feel his fingers spread out on your leg and you inhale sharply. When you catch Viktor licking his lips, the corner of your mouth quirks up as you take the subtle cue to lean even closer.

“Hmm…remind me.” His tone teases as he slides his hand just slightly higher, feather-light touches slowly undoing you with each passing second.

“You just wanna to hear me say it.”

It comes out as a sigh as slender fingers trail back down your leg. Your lips remain parted as you watch how his hand moves along your thigh before glancing back up when he responds.

“Yes, I do.”

His answer matches the same breathiness as yours when you trail your fingers over the back of his hand, testing to see if you could have the same impact on him, smiling wider when you find that you do.

When his eyes lock with yours, you feel heat surge and scorch through every fiber in your being; in your hands, your chest, all the way down, everywhere. Solidifying the very sensation that you attempt to explain even though your heart all but stops when you see him reflexively look at your lips.

“The intensity is the heat. The fire that follows each sip.” You pause before switching your wording. “The fire…that courses through me with the smallest glance. It bur—...you burn me up entirely.”

Gleaming gold becomes as heavy as lead under brows that rise slowly with each word. An inhale through his mouth replacing any thought he was about to convey, his actions speaking for him instead.

Slowly, meticulously. Viktor moves his hand to your cheek, the rough pad of his thumb leisurely tracing the thin scar there while his fingers splay against your neck. The cold breeze that has been biting at your face immediately subsides as you revel in soothing contact from calloused hands.

You sigh quietly as you begin to let your guard down. Walls you’ve built over the years crumbling to pieces within mere moments. Expression softening as you timidly turn your head into his touch, lightly pressing your lips to the bottom of his palm and enjoying the small gasp that escapes him.

Viktor doesn’t take his eyes off of you while you softly press another small kiss to his inner wrist, his gaze clouded and lips parted all the while. “Do you…know why I stole this boat tonight?” He manages to breathe out.

You smirk against his skin, lower lip barely brushing against him as you answer. “You have a moral deficiency?”

“Other than that.” With a smug grin of his own, Viktor carefully drags his thumb down your cheek until he slowly tugs at your bottom lip—parting it gently, testing the waters and drinking in your reactions.

The similarities are uncanny and for a moment you’re brought back to the dream you had about him—the way he dragged your lips open slowly before asking if you wanted to take him in entirely. The way he filled your mouth completely when you were on your knees for him.

Your heart rate quickens and you fight every fiber in your being to not think about the way his voice dipped when he called you a ‘good boy’.

…Or think about what it would sound like if he said it now.

You’re snapped back into reality when he curls his fingers under your chin, tentatively using the side of his index to tip your head up towards him. The very touch you envied—craved when he was inspecting the tobacco plant—was even more intoxicating than you had thought possible.

The way his gaze remains as warm and calculated as the hand that’s holding you.

The switch of his focus back and forth from your eyes to your lips.

The subtle twitch of muscle in his leg against yours when you wet your lips and accidentally graze his thumb with the tip of your tongue.

It’s all too much.

Eyelids fall heavy and breathing becomes labored. His ragged breaths meet yours in small huffs that fog the air. Air that grows thick with anticipation when you hear Viktor shift in his seat to lean forward, tilting his head to the side as he pulls you closer to him.

You move your weight forward to reach across and rest your hand on his hip. The boat wobbles at the sudden imbalance and you feel Viktor’s other hand grab onto to your holster to hold you steady.

A second passes as you regain your balance.

Another when you look down to find deft fingers clutching onto the leather across your chest.

Then time stops completely.

You’re not sure who moved first. If it was Viktor pulling you onto him by your holster, or if it was you nudging his legs apart so you could close the gap and kiss him.

It didn’t matter.

What mattered was for a moment, you both believed that physics could wait…when it absolutely couldn’t.

The boat rocks violently with your quick movements, knocking you both off balance and backwards onto the floor before hosing you down with freezing river water that sloshes over the side.

The two of you groan for all the wrong reasons as all of the heat that has built up is completely doused. Drenched clothing becomes icy in an instant, sending chills throughout your entire body as the temperature outside drops more and more with each gust of wind.

When you look over to Viktor, he’s no better off than you as he attempts to wring out the bottom of his jacket.

“I’m sorry—” “—didn’t mean to—”

“What were y—” “Sorry wha—”

You fumble around with incomplete thoughts as you pull yourselves up off the floor, carefully trying to keep the small vessel from thrashing around with each movement.

“We should ehh…” Viktor reaches for a paddle and holds it out for you. “…probably get back to land, yes?”

“Oh uh—” While it made sense given the temperature, part of you was still reeling from what had just transpired and your stomach drops a little while you wonder if you just ruined the rest of the night. “Yeah…yeah. Good call.” You take the oar from him and look at the buildings around you. “You uhh…have any idea where we are?”

Viktor places his paddle in the water and starts to row with you. “Actually…no I don’t.”

The ride back is quiet, unnervingly quiet. Your thoughts spiral with confusion and frustration as you try to understand your current situation.

‘He looked like he wanted to…like he was going to…’

You bite your lip thinking about what it would’ve felt like to kiss him had you not dunked him like a demi-god in the River Pilt.

Subtly, you try to sneak a glance up at Viktor as you paddle, trying to read him if possible. However, his focus is fixed on trying to recognize the buildings around you—likely looking for another dock which only furthers your inner turmoil.

‘…But then again, I practically tackled him. How the fuck did that even happen? He probably thinks I’m some desperate, touch-starved, sex-crazed, fiend now. Maybe that’s why he isn’t looking up or talking to me right now…’

The mind can be an amazing thing when an embarrassing moment is followed by over 15 minutes of silence. By the time you make it to a new dock you’ve all but convinced yourself that you’ve probably fucked up this night to the point of no return.

Viktor gets out first and you hand him his backpack before moving to stand up. He holds his hand out and you hand him the bottle.

“Not the gin, give me your hand.” He whispers with a small smile. As tempting as his help is, you can’t bring yourself to touch him again after everything you just put him through.

“Save the gin, I’ll be fine.”

“The gin is the reason we’re not fine.” You hear him grunt under his breath before reluctantly taking the bottle.

You move to step onto the dock and have never regretted drinking more in your entire life.

He’s right. The gin is definitely the reason that you are not fine.

Once you stand you lose your footing—causing the boat to rock, for you to overcorrect, and for recovery to be futile as the entire cosmos spins ruthlessly around you.

Not only do you fall in, but you take the entire boat with you as it flips over.

The chill of the water causes your muscles to tighten but otherwise the steady descent downwards is peaceful. For a moment you consider allowing yourself to drown after you turn your head to see the boat sinking next to you.

Something about the captain goes down with his ship, right? But in reality, you didn’t want to resurface and face Viktor after this.

After all of this.

While you contemplate how the fuck your barely drunk ass is sinking in the river, you can make out a muffled sound of screaming from above the surface and look up. It almost sounds like your name.

…oh shit it is your name.

Viktor is shouting for you.

You look back over as the boat continues to drop deeper and begrudgingly decide not to join it in this half-frozen hellscape as you start to swim back up to the surface.

When you pop your head up you see Viktor looking completely panicked…and half naked. His shirt and jacket are dropped haphazardly across the dock and you notice his pants are unzipped as well.

If you weren’t freezing your balls off you would’ve looked longer, but swimming up to the dock and pulling yourself up out of the freezing cold water unfortunately took precedent.

“What’s w—with the wardrobe malfunction, you trying to go s—ss—skinny dipping?” Slender hands grab ahold of your torso to help hoist you up out of the water until you flop onto the dock with a wet thud.

“I thought you got stuck under the boat and couldn’t get out.” Viktor’s uneven breathing catches, hissing when some of the water comes off of you and onto his bare chest.

“You were going to jump in after—?” You start to roll onto your side to look at him but he cuts you off as hurries to throw his shirt back on.

“We need to go. Especially now that our petty theft has escalated into…” Viktor’s brows raise slowly as bubbles gurgle up. Audible evidence of the boat is finding its way to the bottom of the river. “Ehh…full-on vandalism.”

“Not to mention the impending hypothermia.” You strain a response while you push yourself up off of the dock and he finishes getting dressed.

“Let’s find some shelter so that doesn’t happen, yes?” Viktor hands the gin back over to you with an apologetic look. “Maybe the boat wasn’t a better way to enjoy this after all...”

You glance at the bottle before taking it from him, shaking your head and grinning when you look back up. “I disagree. That was the most fun I’ve had in years.”

Viktor’s voice comes out smaller than usual behind a coy smile. His demeanor almost timid when he picks his eyes back up to meet yours before answering.

“Me too.”

The temperature drops more and more while you both try to figure out where you are in the undercity. You’re grateful Viktor still had your jacket in his pack and manage to ditch your shirt for one dry layer, but it’s not doing much—you’re freezing and need to get out of the cold.

You continue to take swigs out of the bottle to stay warm until Viktor manages to find an inn. He glances at you over his shoulder with a small smirk.

“I guess you’ll get that cheap room you wanted after all.”

You had hoped that he forgot about that comment earlier, but still chuckle when you make your way to the door with him.

“I uh…I didn’t mean for that to come across that way.” You try to cover your tracks to avoid embarrassment and take one last sip of your liquid courage, nearly choking on it when he answers.

“Ah. That’s a shame.” Viktor turns his head as he walks inside, revealing a clever grin while he holds the door for you as you follow. “I was looking forward to talking with you.”

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A/N: Date night is officially 3 parts now because I'm a monster ;_;

But hopefully this was a good one and read okay despite all the altered mental states ayyeee. Next chapter will have some warnings, not starting off super crazy but it will likely be 18+ again so I'm excited to dip back into that style :)

The next update will not take this long again, should be back to 1-2 week updates again as long as my life doesn't explode again :'D