#viktor is only happy when reader looks at him

[narnian-neverlander]

Would You Fall in Love with Me Again [Machine Herald Viktor x GN!Reader]

Preview: “You’re the one who decided he’d rather forget every moment, every laugh, every touch we shared like they all meant nothing! You’re the one who tore out his heart without a second thought and threw it away even though it was mine! And all the while you’re leaving me with the burden of it all! I’m the only person alive who still holds our time together dear to their heart now! Do you have any idea how heavy memories can be? How maddening?! And these—“ you bring your hands up between the two of you, all sleek, perfect metal, the spitting image of him. “You gave me these for all the world to see and left me with yet another reminder of you! Like I needed more of those to know that I am still and always will be irrevocably yours! And now you tell me that it wouldn’t matter if there’s any part of you, however small, that still thinks of yourself as mine?! Fuck you, Viktor!”

Genre: angst, hurt/comfort

Word Count: 10,7k

Warnings: slight body horror/modifications, suicidal thoughts, canon typical violence (injuries and blood, mentions of torture, mentions of character death, alluded murder)

This is part of a series of stand alone One-Shots that all feature the same reader, you can find the masterlist here :3

A/N: Does a broken rib from too much coughing count as the AO3 curse yet cause wow this took way longer than expected. Anyways, Epic x Arcane has been bouncing around my head since Season 2 came out, but this was inspired by this post from @le-fruit-de-la-passion cause I saw that and I’ve been internally screaming over it ever since 💁

Happy Valentine’s everybody 💞

Nothing had been the same since you woke up.

It’s to be expected, it had been almost two years after all.

Two years since the explosion. Two years since half the council had died. Two years since any attempt at peace between the two cities had been shattered. Two years that you had spent blissfully unaware of all of this; a coma keeping you trapped within the confines of a hospital bed and your own mind.

You’d expected pain after coming back to your senses; it was the last thing you remembered before the world had went dark. But you’d slept through most of your recovery. Through your wounds turning into scars. Through your muscles growing weak from disuse. Your hands were a different story, though. They didn’t so much hurt, only at times, as they were simply numb. Shattered bones and nerve damage had made them mostly useless and that was not something any amount of time would simply fix.

Not everything had completely changed, though, you’d found. You’d been awake for not more than an hour when Jayce had burst through the doors of your hospital room. And sure, he’d looked different: his hair longer, a beard, the white and gold that had always dominated his outfits replaced with black and silver, a brace on one of his legs and a cane at his side. But the relief in his hazel eyes when he’d found his friend conscious was familiar. The way his hug had felt. And how he’d completely avoided your gaze when you’d asked about your lover.

He’s gone. I’m so sorry, but… he’s gone.

He’d expected you to cry, scream, anything. But you hadn’t. You’d merely nodded, as numb as your broken hands, and had thanked him for coming to see you. Had told him to go back to his work, he must certainly be busy after all. And it had torn him apart, to see you, someone he’d always known as energetic and joyful, so tired, so apathetic. The very least for him to do had been to offer his help in any way he could, including finding a doctor that would fix your hands. He’d been more than reluctant to leave you, but you’d asked for some time alone to rest and he could hardly deny you that - it had still taken him a good ten minutes more to actually take his leave, with promises of a soon return and to simply send for him if you needed anything.

You’d settled back into the bed, fully intent on going back to sleep and pretending you’d be able to wake up in a different world, but the sun had caught on something metallic on your bedside table, hidden behind flowers and cards. You’d reached for it with stiff, unsteady fingers, almost sending the small, scratched up, mechanical cat crashing to the ground; luckily it had just ended up bouncing off your leg and then settling in your lap.

You’d stared at the little robotic feline in astonishment for a long time, unblinking amber eyes staring right back, like it would tell you who had brought it here, when it should’ve been sitting on a shelf in your apartment. Like it would give you all the answers and solutions in the world. An answer to your pain. To the hopelessness creeping in. To the feeling of your heart slowly shattering.

I’m coming back for you. I’ll find a way to fix you, to fix us both, and then I’m coming back for you, I promise.

It had almost made you drop your precious possession all over again, breaths heavy and migraine pounding in the back of your skull. And your racing mind had very clearly told you that there’s no recollection of ever having heard him say anything like this, your aching heart replying that it had been an idle wish, nothing more.

This idle wish comes back to you know, lying bruised and bloody and dazed in a ditch somewhere in Zaun. The people you’d been sent to for help had turned out to be anything but the kind, generous researches they’d made themselves look like; only interested in their own profit, gained on the backs of the helpless and the beaten. And after months of more pain and suffering, once you’d no longer been of use, your body even more mutilated and damaged than before, you’d been discarded like the trash they viewed you as. Face in the dirt, body and mind exhausted and screaming for rest, just a small respite, you consider letting go. Consider closing your eyes and just letting eternal rest take you; you don’t have anything left, after all. No home to go back to. No loved ones waiting for you.

Your shattered psyche seems to welcome the idea more than anything; through blurry vision you swear you see your lost beloved right in front of you, like it’s just another lazy morning spent in bed together. A warm hand cupping your cheek, gentle amber eyes, voice still raspy and accent thick from sleep. Telling you to go back to sleep. That it’s okay to rest. You blink and he’s gone.

He’s gone. I’m so sorry, but… he’s gone.

I’m coming back for you. I’ll find a way to fix you, to fix us both, and then I’m coming back for you, I promise.

A cry for help, created from a desperate mind and a broken heart. A fantasy. Wishful thinking. Nothing more. No one would be coming for you. Nobody would know or care if you just laid down to die right here. But there’s still a part of you, tiny as it may be, that wants to live. That under no circumstances wants to die on the same streets you once crawled your way out of, while your tormentors get rich on your suffering and are left with no consequences. Your blood’s starting to boil, powering you like a steam engine, getting you up on your hands and knees, groaning and whimpering in pain as you hopelessly try to get your feet back under you.

Peace is for the dead, revenge is for the living.

It’s what forces you towards the city limits on wobbly, clumsy legs, one stumbling step at a time. If revenge would be your only reason to live, then so be it. You’d take it over simply giving up and being forgotten; your body left to rot in the dirt.

So you live off scraps and garbage. Get your quick bouts of rest on dark, dirty street corners. Collect herbs from the riverbed, as scarce as they may be, to fight off the infections you incurred. It’s not pretty or elegant and you can barely call it living, but you’re alive. And eventually you catch rumors, whispers, only spoken in the same shadows you’ve now spent months living in: rumors of a healer. Well, some call him that. Others revere him as a god. Others fear him as a monster, more machine than man. But they all agree on two things: that he’s the one to go to if you’re in desperate need of help and have nothing left to lose. And where to find him.

The gate to the house on Emberflit Alley is old and bent and rusted. Not locked, but your stiff, useless fingers have enough trouble opening it anyways. The front door is a different story entirely, encrusted with interlocking gears to keep you and anyone else out unless invited in. So you knock and you wait. And then you repeat that process. Until it becomes clear that either no one is home or that a disturbance isn’t currently wanted. You’re not about to give up so easily though, so you step off the porch and start making your way around the house in search of any windows to knock on instead or maybe even break if necessary. It’s dusk by now and the ever present fog that always seems to cling to this area of the Lanes isn’t making your job much easier; your foot inevitably catches on something, a loose brick or a protruding pipe maybe, and sends you stumbling, falling and while you manage to catch yourself against the brick wall, your flailing palm ends up going straight through a window.

Perfect. You hadn’t actually been serious about breaking and entering. Not entirely, anyways. Trying to assess the damage to your hand in the dimly lit alley, you’re distracted enough to not pick up on the sound of a door opening and you only notice the heavy footsteps when they stop right behind you.

“You’re persistent if nothing else, I will give you that.”

The voice is deep, warped, with a mechanical echo to it, but it’s the accent that sends an unwelcome and unexpected twinge to your heart. You turn around very slowly and carefully, prey about to get caught by something terrible, and gulp when you actually need to crane your head back and look up cause fuck, he’s tall. At least a head taller than you, with a broad frame, all heavy armor and pieces of metal, a sharp, three pronged claw pulsing with energy pointed right at you from over his shoulder and a mask with only two hollow, glowing, yellow eyes staring back at you. He’s an imposing, unforgiving presence and you’re starting to understand why people only come to him as a last resort. But you’d come this far and he’s right, you’re persistent, stubborn, if nothing else, for better or for worse.

“I was— No one was opening the door and I was just trying to— Are you the Herald?” It’s a redundant question, really. “It’s what they insist on calling me.” Okay, you’re having a conversation. Sorta. That’s progress. “They also say that you… help people?” He crosses his arms over his chest and cocks his head to the side and while you might not be able to see his eyes, you can feel them taking you in from head to toe. “To the best of my abilities. What would you need help with?” You falter for a second. “It’s uhm… a lot, really, but mostly my hands?” Most people have always reacted with disgust or pity and you don’t expect him to be much different, so the way you bring your hands in front of you for him to see is slow and hesitant. He leans forward for a better look and you fight the urge to back away and flee. It’s quiet, too quiet, the way he’s so intensely studying you and your injuries unnerving and the metal claw that looks like it could tear you in half opening and closing and rotating as if in thought is most definitely not helping your anxiety. Finally, he straightens up and turns around. “Follow me.” He doesn’t wait for you, nor does he check to see if you actually do follow him, merely strides back inside the house, leaving you scrambling to catch up.

The halls that he leads you through have dozens of motionless automatons leaning against the walls, the room you eventually arrive in is lined with shelves of glass jars containing organic and metal organs floating in green fluid and in the far corner a leather gurney with a mechanized drill laid upon it and stains you don’t want to think too hard about. Fortunately, he doesn’t lead you over to that, but instead to a workbench cluttered with machinery and tools and blueprints. He sits in the old, rusty chair and then drags out a little stool from under the table, gesturing for you to copy him while he reaches above his head and fiddles with what is revealed to be a bright, neon lamp when it finally flickers to life, blinding you for a moment and leaving spots in your vision. You do as your told and finally place your hands in his when he holds out his own, one gloved and from what you can tell human, the other solid metal.

There’s a certain gentle diligence with which he conducts his examination, something you most definitely didn’t expect, but it puts your frayed nerves at ease. It also triggers a memory from long ago, an accident in the lab, that had ended with you curled up against your boyfriend’s shoulder while Jayce had carefully picked glass shards from your palms. A slight shake of your head brings you back to the present; a different life, it no longer matters. It’s silent between you two, except for the occasional question from his side that you answer truthfully. Eventually, he sits back and switches off the lamp above you. “Your hands can not be salvaged; the damage is too severe and was left insufficiently treated for too long. If you want full use of them back, they will need to be replaced.” He says it like it’s the most logical, natural thing in the world and to him it must be, but to you? It leaves you stunned, mouth going dry. “So I’d lose them entirely…?”

“You already have,” he states matter of factly. “Now it’s just a matter of wether you’re insisting on clinging on to broken, useless flesh and bone for the sake of sentimentality or if you’d rather exceed your human limitations and be able to return to a normal life.” It takes everything you have not to laugh bitterly; new hands or not, you weren’t going back to your old, normal life anytime soon. But he’s right nonetheless. “And you can do that? Replace them? Make them work like before?” You can’t be certain, with the mask’s filter and all but it almost sounds like he scoffs in offense. He waves his own hand in front of your face and flexes his fingers for show; dark, solid metal, expertly welded and crafted together to create a perfectly functioning hand. “Naturally.”

There’s nothing for you to think about anymore. “Okay. Yeah, I… that sounds good. Except…” Maybe there is one thing to think about. “I can’t… pay you for it. B-but I can work it off! Or I could—“ he decisively cuts you off with, “I do not take payment for my work.” And your jaw actually drops, because there is no way anyone in this world would offer services like this for free. There always has to be an angle, something to be gained. “Right. So you just do this out of the goodness of your fucking heart? Do you even have one? A heart, I mean.” He stands to his full height and it hits you like a ton of bricks that you just followed a complete stranger into the confines of his home. A stranger twice your size that would have no trouble turning you into parts for his future experiments. A stranger that has a reputation on Zaun’s streets as an unhinged monster. And it seems like you might’ve hit a nerve.

But he merely reaches past you, for something behind you on the table and comes back with a pair of tweezers and gauze and then proceeds to remove the parts of his window that are still stuck in one of your palms. Right. Since you can’t really feel them, you’d forgotten all about them. “Of course not. And to answer your question, no, I got rid of my heart a long time ago; it was of no use to me any longer. I only ask that you stay here during your recovery so I can oversee the adjustment process. Document it to further my research. You will be paying me in information, knowledge, progress. That is worth more than any gold or jewels you could throw at me.” Your own heart is going a mile a minute after that scare, but you’re slowly coaxing your body to calm back down. If he truly wanted to harm you, he would’ve done so by now. “And you’re sure that’s enough?” A sigh, as if he’s forced to explain something overly simplistic to a child over and over again. “You can bring any scrap metal you may find on the streets to me, if that will make you feel better.” You snort in amusement. “Okay, sure, you got yourself a deal. Sooooo… now what?”

He pauses wrapping your hand for a moment and turns his unblinking gaze to you again. “Malnourished, sick or overly exhausted people make for greater risks, both during surgery and recovery.” You flinch because you damn well know that you check all of those boxes. And you’re sure he knows it, too. “Yeah, well it’s not like I can snap my fingers and magically be healthy again. If I could, I wouldn’t be here. Besides, do you know where you live? You can’t tell me that every Zaunite who comes in here is of picture perfect health?”

“No, I just thought you should be made aware. We can perform the procedure tomorrow, at least get some sleep before that; surely that’s not too difficult?” It almost sounds patronizing and you realize you’ve gained back, or rather are rediscovering a part of yourself you haven’t used in a long time in the few minutes you’ve been talking to him: the defiant smartass. “Of course I can do that, I’m not an imbecile. There’s a brothel owner who owes me a favor, I’m sure I can get her to cough up a bed for the night.” He’s doesn’t look up from putting the finishing touches on your bandages, but apparently he still feels the need to state, “And leave with more diseases than you came with?” Had he just called you diseased? “I’ll have you know I don’t have anything contagious, thank you very much. I don’t think. And it’s that or sleep out on the streets again, so…”

“Or you could just stay here.”

You barely manage a very intelligent ‘Huh?!’ in return.

“You will return here tomorrow anyways. And stay here for your recovery. One night will not make a difference.”

Your eyes flit over to the leather couch in the corner; it’s clearly old and worn, missing an armrest and has obvious tears in the leather. Truly, you shouldn’t be this comfortable around him so quickly, but it’s still the closest thing to an actual bed you’d had in months so you’d take it.

“If it’s okay with you.” you shrug and quickly walk over to the sofa, dropping the bag that contains whatever little belongings you have left to the floor and then promptly collapse on it in an exhausted heap of limbs. That seems to break some of his composed facade as you catch him physically startling in your peripheral while you’re busy shrugging out of one of your coats and turning it into a makeshift pillow. “There is a room upstairs, with a bed, entirely unused. You can sleep there.” But you’re drowsy already, the worn leather surprisingly soft and pliant against your battered body. “So you don’t sleep, I assume; noted. And don’t worry, I don’t snore, so I won’t interrupt your… your work. You won’t… even know… I’m…” You’re out cold before you’ve finished your sentence and it takes all of half a minute before you’re lightly snoring. Liar. But he knew that already.

A heavy sigh and then he’s up, grabbing the blanket and pillow from the bed upstairs; replacing the bunched up coat under your head and pausing before he covers your body with the thick, warm fabric. Your skin has lost color, you’re underweight, he most definitely caught you limping earlier and those are just the things he could tell from a first glance. Your hands would be an easy enough matter to fix, but the rest would take time and care. He covers you with the blanket and you immediately snuggle up into it until only your hair is barely poking out. So you still hate the cold, then. Just like you’re still defiant and mouthy. It’s ridiculous how much you haven’t changed in direct contrast to him; changed so vastly and completely, of course you wouldn’t recognize him.

Carefully dragging down the blanket and the backs of your several layers of clothing, he indeed finds a series of numbers and letters branded into the skin at the back of your neck, as expected. He recognizes their shoddy handiwork by now; you weren’t the first Zaunite to come through his door after they’d fallen victim to that group. But you’d most definitely be the last. He gathers some things from around the lab and finally grabs his staff from where it’s leaning against the wall, gem at the top crackling with energy; one last look at your curled up form and then he’s out of the door, leaving you resting in his lab.

You’re warm, comfortable. It’s quiet and you actually feel well rested. All of that is so utterly foreign to you, it frightens you back to consciousness, makes you startle awake and fall off whatever you’d been asleep on in the process. Blind panic as you untangle yourself from a blanket you don’t remember having and stagger back to your feet, wild eyes searching for the closest threat.

Dim lighting breaking through murky windows, shelves stocked organs, a bloody gurney in the far corner and a hunched over figure at a workbench, their back currently turned to you as a clawed contraption over their shoulder emits a thin, precise ray of light.

“I do not appreciate getting lied to.”

There’s a part of your mind screaming at you that you know this voice, this person, this place, but the terrified haze you’re in yields little room for rationality as he shuts off the laser and turns around to face you, features covered by a mask with nothing but a set of glowing yellow eyes.

“You do, in fact, snore.”

It’s like a switch gets flipped, the haze lifts as you realize that you’re safe and you collapse back into the couch in a relieved heap, breaths still frenzied and heart still trying to jump out of your chest. “Right. Sorry.” He doesn’t comment any further, simply gets back to whatever it is he was working on before, leaving you to recover by yourself. It takes a few minutes, but once you consider yourself sufficiently calmed, you sit back up on the couch cross legged, blanket draped over your shoulders, wanting to apologize and thank him properly, but looking at him gives you pause.

He seems… smaller somehow than the night before. You find your answer in a heap of metal scattered around his workbench: big, cumbersome pieces of armor. Armor that you remember seeing on him yesterday, that you’d just assumed to be irremovable parts of his body. What you most definitely do not recall are the dents, scratches and the dried blood all over the metal. Nervously flitting your gaze back to him, you see what he’s working on is actually himself; laser directed at a part of his chest that he seems to be welding shut. And you’re taken aback at how much skin there is - human skin. The entirety of his chest and his right arm are sleek steel, interlocking gears and mechanisms, flawlessly shifting into each other as he moves, thin glowing panels pulsing with energy from hidden engines. And there’s definitely more metal at his right hip, disappearing into the waistband of his pants, but other than that…

His left arm is mostly pale skin, scarred flesh at his shoulder connecting to the dark steel; a wired glove slipped over his slender fingers seemingly controling the movements of the claw over this shoulder. His stomach and waist are still incredibly human too, if nothing else because of the dark purple bruise forming against his skin. He’s nowhere near as much machine as you’d expected, not to mention he looks… hurt. Had he been in a fight? Gotten attacked?

You open your mouth to ask, but think better of it before any sound can come out. It really has nothing to do with you; what he does in his own time is none of your business. It still feels off, to infringe on his time and help and not even ask if he’s alright when clearly, something that you’re not privy to has happened. Never one to leave well enough alone, you grab your bag from the floor and start sorting through the collection of herbs you’ve managed to acquire over time. Once you’ve found the ones you’re looking for, you package them into the most clean rag you have in your possession and tie it shut; uncrossing your legs you walk over to him and place the haphazardly made package on the table, careful not to disturb him. The movement still gets his attention and even with the mask’s filter, confusion is clear as day in his voice as he asks, “What is that and what is it doing on my workbench?”

“It’s an herbal remedy, for uhm… bruises and the like?” you explain, vaguely gesturing at his waist. “You soak it in boiling water and then put it on the effected area; it helps with swelling and pain.” It’s silent for a few long seconds, then, “I see. Thank you.” Not even remotely close to anything you were readying yourself for as a response, but it makes something within your chest beam with pride. You don’t even realize you’re still staring until he points it out and is met with, “You’re just… not exactly what I expected.”

“A monster?”

The laugh you let out is so shockingly soft, it almost startles him. “You’ve got a reputation, sure, and you’re… intimidating at first glance, I’ll give you that, but… I’ve met plenty of monsters in my life and none of them were anything like you. In fact, all of them looked and acted remarkably, ordinarily human at first.” There’s no further elaboration from your side and your gaze is distant, mind somewhere far away from here. He almost calls your name, but it occurs to him in the nick of time that you never actually introduced yourself. You’ve been here for less than twenty four hours and already he’s slipping, making mistakes; he can’t have that, so he drives the conversation in a direction he has control over. “I am almost finished with my repairs, I can get the general anesthetic started so we can proceed with your surgery as quickly as possible.”

Wild, hot panic takes over your gaze and he fully expects you to bolt out the front door with how you flinch and take a step away from him. “I need be under for the surgery? Can’t you do like, local anesthesia on my arms?” He hesitates; he’s never known you to be afraid of medical procedures, so what’s the problem? “First off, I will not be replacing both of your hands at the same time. Too risky and you’ll be completely incapacitated; we’re going to start with only one today. And no, in theory, you do not have to be under full anesthesia, however, we are talking about a delicate and unusual kind of surgery; I can not promise that it will be painless while you’re still conscious.”

“That’s fine, I don’t mind the pain, I just… I wanna have some agency in what gets done to my body from here on out.”

Ah. So that’s it. One glance at the dried blood still clinging to his armor on the floor and he feels the rage from last night raise it’s ugly head again. He shoves that right back down, cursing internally, before he answers you, voice level and betraying nothing. “All right. It will not be a pretty sight, though.” You shrug, as nonchalant as if he’d just told you about dinner plans. “I mean, I don’t have to watch directly. But I’m gonna admit, I am curious.”

The curiosity lasts for all of the first cut into your flesh, then you turn your head away and simply let him work in silence; wouldn’t want to distract the man currently flaying you open and re-wiring your nerve endings. Luckily, there’s only the occasional pinch and pull, but you stay pain free otherwise. Recovery after the procedure is a different story entirely though; painful and arduous and time consuming. And you’re more than a little surprised at how diligently the Herald takes care of you. Keeping a close eye on his newest test subject, that’s what you write it off as at first. But as the weeks go by there’s a certain familiar domesticity that sneaks into your routine and you find yourself talking with him more and more. Well, it’s mostly you talking, but he listens; you know because the day after you complained about the room you’d been staying in feeling too dark, you’d come back from an errand to find the windows cleaned, the curtains gone and some mismatched lamps placed around the room. It’s a sweet, quiet kind of constant reassurance and you can’t help the way your heart warms at it; so much like what you’d been used to from your lost love.

The day you pick up a glass of water all by yourself, without spilling anything and the glass noticeably cold against your fingers, you almost weep with joy and just barely hold yourself back from tackling him in a hug. Instead you busy yourself with touching as many things in his lab as you can get your one properly functioning hand on - which means you miss the way he so openly stares at you, obvious even with his mask hiding his features. He hasn’t seen you this happy and energized since you showed up on his doorstep. It makes some part in chest whir conspicuously and it almost feels like something is overheating, so he quickly turns away and grabs a random, discarded project from his workbench to fiddle with.

“Do you… ya know, eat?”

It’s a random question, even for you, but he answers nonetheless. He’s used to it by now.

“I no longer require it as a form of energy replenishment, no.”

You roll your eyes. “Okay, that doesn’t answer my question, though. You don’t have to, but do you? Sometimes?”

“I fail to comprehend why we are having this conversation in the first place.” He doesn’t put down his tools, nor does he look at you.

Okay, fair point.

“Well, I uh… I used to be a chef, had my own restaurant and everything? And since one of my hands finally works again I figured I’d like to give cooking something a try? And if you have a favorite, I could make it for you? As thanks for… well, for giving me a hand?” It’s not one of your finer jokes, you will admit, so you’re not surprised he doesn’t laugh. Not that you’ve ever heard him laugh at anything, for that matter. He doesn’t react at all, except for, “I told you, I do not take payment for my work. Are we done with this fruitless conversation now?” It stings more than you’d like, to have him dismiss your tries at kindness like that, even though you know it’s not personal.

“Right, yeah, sorry. It’s just… cooking’s the only thing I’ve ever been good for and I like to be some sort of useful so… but you’re right, it’s stupid. I’ll let you get back to work.”

Because if I stopped being useful, then… maybe he wouldn’t want me anymore. Maybe he’d leave me behind for something better.

It was years ago, he shouldn’t remember you saying it as clearly as he does. Nor the way you’d looked then; all teary eyed and vulnerable, in front of him and only him. He shouldn’t remember and much less should he still care. He finds himself putting down his tools anyways.

“Sweetmilk.”

It doesn’t even register that he’s talking to you at first, considering you’re already halfway out the door to give him some peace and quiet. “P-pardon?”

“Sweetmilk.” he repeats. “It’s technically not food, but a weakness of mine and it’s still made on a stove. However, I am out of—“

“I got it! I’ll go get everything; I know how to make it!” The biggest grin on your face, you’re out of his lab in an instant and he hears the front door open and close not long after that.

There’s an actual skip in your step as you make your way down the street, there’s no other way to put it.

You are no fool. It’s in the way he hyperfocuses on his work. In the way his place is always a mess, right down to how his tools and notes clutter his desk. In the way what little sunlight manages to reach this part of the Lanes catches in his chestnut hair when it filters through the windows. In the little vocal mannerisms and gestures that you remember oh so well, that he apparently was unable to remove, no matter how much of a perfect machine he claims himself to be. It’s all right there, it had been from the start, this had just been the final push you’d needed. The final push to actually let yourself hope.

You are no fool. He knows this. He knows this and yet he let you have this. This tiny, obsolete, aggravating piece of information that has now turned him into the fool instead. He’s certain you’ve already figured it out, how could you not have? With the way you were immediately way too comfortable around him? With the way you sometimes talked about yourself, your past, just naturally assuming he’d be able to fill in the blanks, cause to him, they weren’t blanks at all? With the way it had been so easy to slip back into old, dangerously domestic habits with you? This had simply been the final nail in the coffin, yours or his, he isn’t sure; he is sure, however that you do not belong here in his oh so carefully crafted solitude.

Over two years. That’s how long it had taken him to put himself back together again. To rid himself of the parts the Hexcore had already infected, tainted, taken from his control. To replace his dying lungs. To make sure he didn’t fall apart again after every second step. To ensure he was no longer weak. And then he’d come for you, intending to save you, make you whole again, but you’d been gone. Disappeared from your hospital bed, from Piltover all together it had seemed. He’d crossed several lines in his search for you, even the ones he’d set for himself; namely never asking for help from his former best friend and partner again. In the end, the only thing he’d accomplished had been to widen the ever growing rift between them, no step closer to you. So he’d done the only thing he could still think of: rip his heart straight from his chest to maybe, hopefully, get rid of the agony right along with it; erase the joyful memories that held nothing but misery anymore. And it had worked; everything inside him dulled and numbed enough to simply drown himself in his work with no interferences. Until you’d stumbled back into his life. And things should be different, he shouldn’t care about you anymore outside of how you can further his research, but they’re not. The way the two of you still fit together so effortlessly is disgustingly, hauntingly familiar and he has to put a stop to it. He has chosen to live like this, in isolation and loneliness, he would not force it on you in the name of some long forgotten affection.

Perfect opportunity strikes some days later, while he’s in the process of replacing your second hand and you question him about his own augmentations. So he tells you about his weak leg and his collapsing lungs like you don’t already know. Watches the smile vanish from you lips and your face fall as he explains how he removed his connections to people from his past.

“So you… you don’t remember anyone who used to be a part of your life? Family, friends, lovers?”

“I remember them just fine, I simply got rid of any unnecessary emotional attachments associated with them. I remember my mother’s lullabies, I do not miss them any longer. I remember the discussions with my old partner, yet I no longer look at them fondly. I remember the lazy mornings spent with my lover, but I don’t yearn for them anymore.”

You visibly flinch at that last one and he merely warns you to stay still, like he doesn’t know what hearing all of this must do to you. It goes quiet between you two afterwards and any glance he steals at you confirms his theory, proves that his action had the desired reaction: the cogs are turning in your head and the longer they do, the more the despair and grief start to show on your face; realization that he is no longer the man you knew and that you no longer have a place by his side. It’s quick, simple work to finish your surgery and he decides to leave you be, give you time to let the new information he provided you with sink in and with some trivial errands used as a quick excuse, you’re left sitting alone on a rickety old stool in his lab.

And you stay seated for a long while, still and unmoving, blankly staring off into the distance as you hopelessly try to process what he just revealed to you. The love you hold for him hasn’t diminished in the slightest, no matter how much he might claim to have changed, but what’s it worth if you’re nothing but a stranger to him now? If the affections he’d had for you in return were lost to his quest of a perfect evolution?

You’re unsure what compels you to rise from your seat, to stroll across the room and absentmindedly trail your fingers across the books on one of his shelves. Maybe you’re simply trying to distract your mind from spiraling further down into the dark abyss of hoplessness it’s currently headed for. Maybe a part of you already knows that this is not meant to last and you’re trying to commit everything to memory through touch alone, now that he’s returned that sensation to you. The very last thing you expect is for one of the spines to catch your attention and for just a moment, you’re back in your old apartment, your old life. Hurriedly pulling the book from it’s spot you find that you are in fact correct, this used to belong to you. The corners of the dark blue cover are frayed and the golden lettering faded, but you recognize it anyways; you’d lent it to him years ago and he’d just never gotten around to giving it back. Which still doesn’t explain what it’s doing here, surely he doesn’t have any use for it anymore. You gingerly dust it off, careful not to over exert your new fingers, and crack it open only for a little slip of paper to immediately come fluttering out and land on the floor in front of you. Picking it up, you find only two words written in a handwriting you know all too well.

Lavender = devotion

The memories flood your mind wether you want them to or not; memories of your absolute mess of a first date. Of the meticulously crafted bouquet of flowers he’d gotten you, based on the book you’d lent him.

Putting the paper back with the page containing it’s corresponding flower, you quickly rifle through the rest of the book and find plenty more notes still left within the pages, all in his handwriting.

Iris = hope, trust

Alstroemeria = mutual support, fascination

Carnations = sincere love, respect, new beginnings

The last entry you come across doesn’t have a written note with it. Instead you find a picture: the two of you, slumped together on the sofa in the lab, all tangled limbs and sleepy intimacy, blissfully unaware of your friend sneaking this picture. It’s marking the pages for camellias and you don’t need a note or a proper look at the information in the book to know what they symbolize; not when you can clearly remember him telling you.

Eternal love. I’m yours for as long as you want. If you’ll have me.

The book slips from your fingers, landing open on the floor with a dull thump as you go right along with it, knees hitting the wood beneath you hard as you curl in on yourself and sob, photograph cradled close against your chest.

It’s the first time you’ve cried, some still coherent part of your mind realizes. Since waking up. Since being imprisoned and tortured. Since coming here. Since being forced to accept stroke after stroke of fate that had irreversibly changed your life entirely against your will or control. So you cry and you weep and you scream at the top of your lungs. For yourself and everything you’ve had to endure. For all you’ve lost. For the life you could’ve had.

You have to leave. You have to. Or you’d spend the the rest of your life desperately trying to rekindle a love that no longer exists. A final glance at the picture still held in your hands and you consider taking it; he wouldn’t miss it, he probably doesn’t even know it’s still here. But the people in that photograph are long gone and it would cause you nothing but more grief, so what’s the point? You drop it between the pages you’d found it in and shove the book back into its’ spot on the shelf before scrambling to your feet and beginning to gather your things strewn across his house. And you could’ve left then and there, things packed and mind made up. You probably should have. But it doesn’t feel quite right either, just disappearing without a trace. So you sit on the bed you’ve called your own for the past weeks and you wait. Until you hear him come home in the middle of the night and the urge to sprint downstairs, throw a quick goodbye and thank you over your shoulder and slam the door on this entire sad, miserable chapter of your life is there. But you don’t. You can’t. Because despite everything, you still want a proper goodbye - you didn’t get one last time, after all. Except you have no idea how you’d go about that, so you stay right where you are and rack your brain. Until dawn breaks and you’re no closer to a solution, so you drag your tired body off the bed and make your way downstairs; you’re just looking for more excuses to stay at this point.

Of course you find him at his workbench, where else, most of his heavier armor discarded and Hexclaw dimantled in front of him as he diligently solders wires to metal. Pausing in the doorway, you wait for him to acknowledge your presence, giving yourself some more time to think, but when several minutes pass and he doesn’t even look up you clear your throat, receiving a quick ‘Morning.’ in return and nothing else. No point beating around the bush, is there?

“When do you think I’ll be able to leave?”

Too busy fiddling with a loose thread at the hem of your shirt to distract yourself, you don’t notice the way he almost flinches, everything he’s doing coming to a halt. It’s quiet for only a moment before he says, “You are not a prisoner here. You may leave whenever you wish to.”

Not the answer you want, not the answer you long for, but an answer nonetheless

“I… now would be good for me, I think.”

“Very well.”

And that’s the end of it. The room is blanketed in silence once again, except for the scrapes and shuffles of his tools as he goes back to work. No grand, emotional request for you stay and why would he? You’re a stranger, an experiment and there’ll be others like you; others to further his research and learn from. He doesn’t need you anymore. He hasn’t for a very long time, you realize. Oh how you wish you could feel the same. You go to grab your bag from the hallway in apathetic, almost mechanical movements, nothing but muscle memory driving you at this point and you expect to walk out the front door without another word exchanged between the two of you, but surprisingly enough, he calls out to you again.

“Where will you go?”

Stopping in your tracks, you come to lean against the door frame, gaze falling anywhere but him. You’re not sure what he’s even asking for, it won’t have any impact on his life after all, but you answer honestly anyways. “As far away from this city as I can get, probably. There’s no one— there’s… nothing left for me here anymore.” A pause as the faces of your tormentors flash before your inner eye. “Not before making the bastards who used me pay for it, though.” He unscrews a panel at the base of the Hexclaw while posing another question. “And if that costs you your life?” You shrug even though he can’t see. “Just as well. I’m not sure I’ve got the will to build something new for myself anyways…”

Silence falls again and you interpret it as the natural end of the conversation and your cue to leave. Except there’s one last thing you need to get off your chest - quite literally, in fact. Slipping off the chain around your neck, ring still safely attached to it as always, you approach him and place it on the surface of his workbench. To your utter surprise, he actually interrupts his work and picks it up with careful fingers; his face might be hidden from you by his mask, but he radiates confusion so you explain before he has a chance to ask. “When I first came here, you told me I could pay you in scrap metal if it made me feel any better about encroaching on your space and time. You can melt this down, throw it out, I don’t care; I’ve carried it around with me long enough and it was always meant to be yours.” You truly don’t have the strength to wait for his reaction, or probable lack thereof; this means nothing to him now, you mean nothing, and that thought makes you hurry towards the exit, tears burning in your eyes.

Despite better judgment, you pause in the doorway, fingers tight around the strap of your bag and swallow around the growing lump in your throat. “Thank you…” It’s barely above a whisper and it’s not enough. You were the one who wanted a proper goodbye this time, weren’t you? So you turn to fully face him, met with the same blank, hollow eyed stare you’ve grown oh so used to and you smile, genuine and grief stricken. “Thank you for everything, Viktor.”

Part of you wonders when he last heard his own name. If he even still remembers it.

And then you’re gone, leaving him alone in his quiet lab, with only his research to keep him company, just as it should be.

The front door is as far your shaky legs get you, bag slipping from your shoulder as you slump against it, forehead pressed to the cool, worn wood as you press a hand against your mouth in a desperate attempt to to stifle the sobs. The man you’re leaving behind is the love of your life no matter what, you’ve known that for ages; there was a before him, but there was never supposed to be an after. And yet now you have to figure out exactly what that after is going to look like, because he’s gone and at the same time he’s still here and that, oh that aches something awful. It’s unfair and it’s cruel and it makes you want to claw your own chest open to strangle your heart with your bare hands just to make the pain stop. It makes you envy him for the first time, no heart left in his chest to ail him. And it makes you despise him, because how dare he leave you alone with the burden of this love you were supposed to share?

The heavy footfalls behind you should jumpstart you into action, make you wrench the door open and get out or at the very least compose yourself, but you can’t. You find that you simply don’t care anymore either. Let him see what he’s done to you, what he’s turned you into, even if he wouldn’t shed a single tear over it. A mechanical hand comes to rest next to your head, his presence right at your back, so close and so very much like the first night you came to this place and yet everything’s so incredibly different now.

“What? Did you forget some kind of last diagnostics test on the new hand or something?” The tears are obvious in your tone. “No. But you should know that the people you plan on taking revenge on are already dead. I made sure of it.” Breath catching in your throat, the memory of your first morning in this house comes back to you: the bruises, the blood on his armor, the way everything about him had screamed violence and death that day. “You… Why?” It makes no sense whatsoever and it’s making your head spin and he’s not answering, until, “That’s hardly a concern for you now. I simply thought it consequential for you to be made aware of the fact that if you wish to depart from this city you may do so. There is nothing—“ It’s the first time you’ve heard him falter and fumble in all your time here and when he speaks again there’s an edge to his voice that you can’t quite place, accompanied by the hand against the door clenching into a fist. “There is no one keeping you here anymore.”

The clock in the corner counts down the seconds, loud and echoing in comparison to the quiet that has befallen you both. A quiet you decide to break, tentative and scared.

“Isn’t there? My tormentors might be gone, but what of the man I love? Could he still find it in him to love me if I stayed?”

“I don’t believe that still matters, does it? You’ll leave either way.”

And something inside of you snaps.

You brace your forearms against the door and shove backwards, catching him so off guard he stumbles back a step or two, creating just enough distance for you to rear back your hand and punch him square in the jaw. His mask gets knocked clean off his face, loudly clattering to the floor; your freshly operated hand sparks and creaks ominously, fingers now bent at odd angles while searing pain shoots up your entire arm, but you don’t care. It’s nothing compared to the white, hot fury that’s boiling you alive from the inside out.

“How dare you? How fucking dare you?!”

He doesn’t even deem it necessary to look at you; completely frozen to the spot, head turned away from you and hair covering his eyes from your view. He will have to listen to you either way, wether he wants to or not. Wether he still cares or not.

“You’re the one who decided he’d rather forget every moment, every laugh, every touch we shared like they all meant nothing! You’re the one who tore out his heart without a second thought and threw it away even though it was mine! And all the while you’re leaving me with the burden of it all! I’m the only person alive who still holds our time together dear to their heart now! Do you have any idea how heavy memories can be? How maddening?! And these—“ you bring your hands up between the two of you, all sleek, perfect metal, the spitting image of him. “You gave me these for all the world to see and left me with yet another reminder of you! Like I needed more of those to know that I am still and always will be irrevocably yours! And now you tell me that it wouldn’t matter if there’s any part of you, however small, that still thinks of yourself as mine?! Fuck you, Viktor!”

You slump back against the door for support, chest heaving and unharmed hand coming up to cover your face; a desperate and all but pointless attempt to hide the tears and stifle the sobs.

He’s a scientist, an engineer. Solving problems, fixing things, improving lives; it’s what he does. What he thrives in. Yet he doesn’t know how to fix this. So he zeroes in on the one thing he can fix.

“Let me see your hand.”

But you don’t let him. Curl in on yourself and angle your body and injured hand away from him; it makes you seem so much smaller. So vulnerable. So defeated. Good. Maybe if he can drive you away even further then…

“You are… a distraction. A hindrance to my work that I can not tolerate. You do not belong here and it would be better for the both of us if you left and never returned.”

With the mask gone, the mechanical edge to his voice is missing as well, but every word still stings like the cut of a blade.

“So turn around and let me go. You’ll never have to see me again, I promise.”

He knows all too well how seriously you take that; every promise, no matter how small or menial, a solemn oath, never to be broken. He can not let you make this one; every part of himself rebels against the very thought of letting you walk out that damn door, even if it would be the logical thing to do. Drive you further away, he’s not capable of that any longer, who is he trying to fool? Himself, most likely.

Stepping closer he gauges your reaction and when you don’t recoil from him any further, he rests his hands on either side of you and drops his forehead against the old, worn wood above your shoulder.

“I can’t.”

It’s spat through grit teeth, like it physically pains him to admit it. But it’s the most emotion you’ve heard in his voice during all the time you’ve been here.

“I removed every function that wasn’t vital; every memory that was redundant to my work. Affection, jealousy, admiration, anger, joy, sorrow; any emotion that would’ve proven an aberration sooner rather than later. I clawed and prodded and scraped at my own insides until nothing remained and yet you refused to let go.”

Your sobs have reduced to sniffles, your body still beneath him; except for the hand you’ve dropped from your face that he now feels running up his back, titanium fingers gliding over the metal ridges that make up his spine until they settle at the nape of his neck.

“Your face, your laugh, your favorite color, the way you’d look cooking breakfast in the mornings, the way your body would feel against mine; every detail, no matter how minute stayed. Etched into the fissures of my brain, burned into the steel I used to rebuild myself, regardless of how many times I replaced it. Carved into my being, my very soul; I could not remove you any more than I could remove the engine beating as my heart. And I can not go back to how things were before you came here. Before you found me again.”

“Why not? You seemed perfectly happy in your solitude with your work.” Your voice is small, but genuine. And you almost squeak in shock, wind knocked out of you, when his arms come around your middle to hold you tight, almost too tight, flush against him as he buries his face into crook of your neck.

“Because you are in every fraction of skin, in every blood vein that still remains within me. In every bolt, every wire, every piece of metal I welded to myself. I do not… function properly unless I know of your whereabouts. Unless I know you’re safe and cared for. And it was maddening, to surpress it, to ignore it all these years; a clear error constantly rearing its’ ugly head, telling me that I will never get any further in my research, my work, my vision, unless it’s resolved. Constantly running on loop in the back of my head, reminding me that I am incomplete. I need you, you are an essential part of me, right down to my very atoms and it makes me, all of me, no matter what else I might become, yours.”

There’s fresh tears streaming down your face, because he sounds so tired. So desperate. So upset. So painfully human. You find yourself doing the same thing you’ve always done when you’ve had him in your arms, worried and anxious about something; gently thread your fingers through his hair, scratching at his scalp and lean your head against his carefully. “Viktor, if you want me to stay, all you have to do is ask. You know that; if you want something all you ever had to do was ask it of me. But I need you to ask me, all right? I need to hear you say it.” He doesn’t answer right away, only draws patterns into the small of your back in thought; a habit of his you remember all too well. This close, you can feel the heat coming off him, generated from the several engines powering him and a barely there hum and whirr of machinery against your chest; a sound that comes in regular intervals, akin to a heartbeat. When he does speak, his voice is weary. Conflicted. Unsure. Scared.

“I am not the man you fell in love with, my heart. Not gentle, nor kind. There is no coming back from the lines I’ve crossed and I don’t— I can not love you the same way I used to. The way you’d deserve. And yet… I want to be selfish.” He pauses for a bitter, ridiculing bark of laughter and shifts in your hold and it’s only then that you realize the skin at the slope of your neck and your collarbone is wet. Shame threatens to choke you when it occurs to you that up until now you didn’t think he still could cry. “I shouldn’t want for anything. Machines do not want or desire or long for things. But… they need all their components to operate as they’re supposed to; to perform at their full potential.” He’s rationalizing it, you know and you’ll be fucking damned if you interrupt him. “And I need you to stay. Here, with me. Then maybe in time you’ll be able to love me as I am now.”

Your chuckle is weak; you’re exhausted physically and emotionally. “What a silly thing to say. That’s assuming I ever stopped loving you in the first place.” It should be impossible, for his embrace to become any tighter, but it does and it’s almost starting to hurt - good, because the pain makes it real.

It’s in the way he buries his face against you further, a noise oh so very similar to a sob escaping him, and how your gaze catches on his mask left discarded on the ground that it finally dawns on you: he’s hiding. From you or from himself, you’re not certain, but you’re not having it any longer. “My love, let me see you.” He doesn’t move; if anything he freezes up. “Please?” You try again and are met with the same result, except for, “You will not like what you find.” Irritation flares up in your chest, manifesting itself in a harsh tug on his hair and, “That’s for me to decide.” It takes him a few very long, agonizing seconds, but eventually, he sighs in defeat and pulls back enough for you to be able to get your first proper look at his face after all these years.

No wonder you managed to break your hand, his jaw and cheeks are all solid, dark, smooth metal, connecting to the column of his throat. Your fingers are moving before you can stop yourself, trailing along his cheek bones where hard steel meets soft, scarred flesh. Still as pale as always, almost deathly so, faint blue veins under his skin now in plain view and the contrast to the two moles you adore all the more prominent. The ever present dark circles under his eyes have evolved into lasting bruises. And oh his eyes. The same beautiful gold you remember, except now they’re rimmed with a thin ring of bright pink, courtesy of the Shimmer you’ve seen in his lab no doubt, bright against the deep, dark, purple-ish black that now makes up his sclera. But dissimilar from your memory as they may be, the look in them is one you recognize: careful, poised for rejection, but the remaining tears betray him. It’s strange, how he can look so utterly different yet so hauntingly the same.

He had imagined this moment plenty of times, but never in his wildest dreams could he have come up with this. Yes, there’s several emotions at once crossing your face when you finally see him, yet none of them negative. It’s genuine, innocent curiosity at first, reflected in the careful fingers that reach out to touch him. And before he has time to fully register your touch against his skin, your expression shifts and it’s nothing but pure, unadulterated admiration and affection. “Still so beautiful. Still all mine.”

Just like that, all the tumult and chaos and noise in the back of his head that hadn’t once stopped in the last few years finally seems to silence and he can actually fucking think in peace again for the first time - and the first thing he thinks to do, the most logical thing to do, really, is to curse under his breath before crashing his lips to yours. It’s needy and filthy and all tongues and teeth, your back making abrupt contact with the door again as he shoves you against it, hands coming up from your waist to cup your face. The gesture is tender and sweet and entirely contrasting to the way he’s kissing you; to what he claims to have become. It’s more than welcome nonetheless, giving you a sense of security you didn’t realize you needed as your intact hand moves away from his hair to cover his. It just so happens to be the one that’s still mostly flesh and blood, warm against your skin, except for a thin, cold sliver of metal you feel that you can’t place at first. You don’t remember seeing any augmentations that would feel like this on his hand before. Curious despite the adoring, addictive haze that’s starting to cloud your mind, fingertips try to make out more detail and you find it in tiny little ridges in the metal sitting specifically on his ringfinger that feel suspiciously like letters. Letters that spell out one word: Unconditional.

Your ring. He’s wearing your ring.

It makes you kiss him harder, wanting him so much closer even though it’s hardly possible. You could stay like this for the rest of your life and you wouldn’t ever need for anything else. How unfortunate it is then that one of you both still needs air to fill their lungs to live. How unfortunate that that someone is you; personally you gladly would’ve suffocated against his lips, but he seems to have other plans as he pulls back to let you take some much needed deep breaths, chest heaving while he settles for leaving chaste pecks against the skin of your face.

“Still all yours,” he confirms and you mirror the smile you can hear in his voice. “Now and always.”

[mono-dot-jpeg]

focus and study - viktor

summary; in which viktor gives you a proper incentive to study hard and even helps you relieve some stress

genre/extra tags; small one shot, modern college au, smut, fluff, half baked smut, established relationship, this could be considered a prequel to my jayvik reader smut, viktor and reader were together first and jayce joined in not long after, OR jayce thought they were dating already and viktor reader thought too hard about the relationship, silly shit at the end, jayvik freak agenda, OOC viktor????, open ended

word count; 1.1k

[nsfw] [gender neutral reader]

[warnings; sex toys, dom! vik my beloved, written by a sex neutral asexual, orgasm denial/edging, overstimulation?, voyeurism?, implied dacryphyilia, degradation???, vik call you a slut, whore, dumbification?? idk how to spell that one how fitting, riding, slight oral, a small step up from mean viktor compared to my other fic]

a/n; umm... no notes. written in January, finished for valentines. this world will never give me viktor league for valentines. this is so half baked. im so sorry viktor nation.

studying was the worst. at least for you. you, who usually had a good sense of confidence when it came to your classes, felt like screaming into the void with every curse you knew.

nothing just seemed to be clicking in your mind. no matter how many times you went over it yourself, how you asked the teacher, how you asked some classmates. nothing worked.

but then viktor had this genius idea.

"hah... viktor.. i don't- i don't kn-know.." you gasped between words as you feel how sticky your lower half has become as you sat at your desk. you've never been more thankful to only afford a cheap chair because you just know that any leather seat would have you riding on it like it's viktor's own dick. "i don't know- the- the answer-! ngh!" your body trembles as the stupid hot red dildo stuck in you vibrated gently. it was enough to feel but not enough to satisfy. it wasn't even big enough to hit any good spots, too.

"dear.. you can do better than this. i don't date a dumb whore.. do i?" he said sitting on your bed as he fiddled and twisted with the setting on your vibrator. his smirk is subtle every time he gains a whine out of you when he turns the settings higher or lower.

you shook your head, intensely disagreeing with him as you try to hold back from touching yourself. "n-no.. i'm not dumb.." you whined into your hand that did nothing to cover your moans.

"we have 5 more questions, pretty. can you do them for me?" he asked. you can hear him stand up, and you see his figure at your vanity mirror as he approaches you. you can see how hard he is with his pants tightening by his dick. "i'd be very happy if i could give you a reward."

you look at your written notes, but everything seems to blur and mesh together. you shift in your seat, and the vibrator just grazes your sweet spot. you crumble and whine loudly at the absolute lack of satisfaction you just felt. so close but so far. you don't even realize you're crying.

"is my poor love too much of a dumb slut to handle some math assignments? you can't even think, right? you can't even answer my questions anymore.." he said, his hand resting on your cheek as he turns you to face him. "what will i ever do with you?" he turns the settings higher, leaving your legs twitching and shaking for more.

"v-viktor.. please.." you cried out. "i want- want you so b-badly.." you can't help your hand traveling down to your heated area to start touching yourself for any sense of satisfaction. but viktor stops you from doing too much.

"now, now, what did i say about touching yourself? i should teach you how to behave properly. i'd say i could fuck you stupid but that wouldn't be so right for this scenario, would it?"

you start getting desperate, your hands grip at his pants tugging at them and looking up at him with glazed eyes for a chance to have him in you. "v-vik- ah.. please.." your body is only turned to him now, your face covered in tears as the vibrator is only grazing and brushing at your sweet spot.

"my pretty dumb slut, is that what you are now?" he asked, holding your face by your chin. his thumb rubs at your tears. "you listen to me so well, and yet you can't even finish reviewing your notes as i told you to." he shook his head in feign disappointment before moving back to the bed. you follow him, your bodily fluids drip down your legs in a way that makes you feel so pathetic, but you don't even care at this point. you need him so bad.

"please- viktor- i want to- i want-" you can't even speak right. not when he's unbuckling his belt and unzipping his pants. you almost drool at the sight of him.

"you should be good enough to not cum until i tell you, yes?" you nodded eagerly at his words. "look at you, you're drooling over me." he commented, but most of your sense is thrown out the window as you start licking at his dick. your warm mouth starts to suck and hollow your cheeks as you blow him. you can see how much he enjoys it, but he stops you from doing too much. he grabs a condom to put on, and your body shivers in excitement.

you both move to a more comfortable position, resting fully on the bed rather than on the edge of it. he takes the vibrator out of you, leaving you whining from the emptiness. "no whining, dear." he said as he sat on the bed, pants tossed to the side, boxers somewhere on the floor, and his white button-up open and loose. "ride." he gives the one command, and you go for it. you keep it careful so as not to disturb his hurt leg too much.

you line yourself with his cock and slowly sink, moaning at him filling you so well. you start riding not long after once you get used to the feeling of him. but you're so close to cumming due to the vibrator simply torturing you earlier that your body shivers and shakes from you holding back. "let- let me cum, v-viktor!" you gasp between pumps. his hands on your hips guide the pace.

"you couldn't even answer 5 questions for your notes. are you sure you're not my dumb slut? you can't even think about anything but my cock, right now? nothing but my pretty whore."

"please, please, please!" you repeated, your eyes unfocused and blown out as your mind draws blanks. "wanna cum! please!"

"you're asking so nicely. perhaps you're not that dumb." he hummed. "you can cum now, dear." he purred before holding your face to his, to kiss you stupid. you instinctively respond to his kisses and the last thrust that hits your sweet spot, leaving you to moan his name out. "that wasn't a great plan, but we learned a lot, didn't we?" you would be mad at him for being so composed and calm this whole time if you weren't so fuzzy brained right now. he slowly guides you to pull out and tosses the condom in the nearby trash bin. you move slowly and lean down to finish him off.

"you don't have to do that, dear."

your response is muffled, and you don't even pull away. you refuse to leave your man unsatisfied, but his next words have you pausing, "jayce can do that for you. isn't that right, jayce?" you pause to look over at the door and see a heaving jayce with a hard rock cock stuffed in his pants and a guilty puppy look on his warm face.

[madschiavelique]

[honey-tongued-devil]

[Arcane preference]reacting to their s/o calling them husband/wife for the first time

I’ve finished the first chapter of the long fic about Universe 7 (Anytime it rains). As soon as my second beta reader gives me the okay, I’ll post it. While I wait, I’ve written the first headcanon (out of three I’m definitely planning to write and post in the next few days) and picked up the drawing of Steb I’d left unfinished. I’m slow, as usual, but English isn’t my first language, and I’m juggling a lot of things at once. Enjoy!

socials: | INPRNT | | Tip Jar | | X | | BlueSky | | Ao3 | poster: | Jayce poster | | Silco poster | |Silco +self insert poster 1| | Steb poster | if you want to read the fluff longfic with vander and his happy family + Silco x reader you can find it here! ↠ Masterlist

Jayce:

-This man is planning to put a ring on your finger as soon as possible, okay? -Between the academy, public appearances, and both theoretical and practical studies, there isn’t a single moment when he’s really in the right mindset to bring up the topic -The worst part is that, deep down, he’s terrified of putting pressure on you -That’s why, the first time he hears you refer to him as “my husband” during a gala with noble families, he almost chokes -He has to gather all his strength not to grab the interlocutor by the shoulders and ask if they also heard you say that word -He’ll try to keep his composure, maybe responding to your remark with, “Yes, exactly. Her husband really did say/do/design that.”

Viktor:

-It’s not a thought he’s ever really entertained; it never crossed his mind -Part of it is that science is his priority, and part of it is that marriage doesn’t seem like something meant for people like him, -The first time you call him “your husband”, that thought suddenly becomes real in his head, and he can’t help but lean against a wall and wait for the other person to leave -“So, I’m your husband now, huh? Mmm… I don’t mind, a bit pretentious, though…” he jokes, making you roll your eyes -Now, more than ever, he has no idea what to do. He’ll give you a bronze ring from a machine he’s building -“Until I can get one worthy of you.”

Ekko:

-Yes -That’s it -The end -Okay, seriously. The idea of being certain that something will last forever is probably his greatest wish -The first time you call him your husband, he doesn’t see it coming -“Wait, you’re married?” -“I was talking about you, Ekko.” -The moment you say it, he points to his chest, you see his lip tremble slightly, and his eyes grow shinier -He won’t stop talking about it for a week, and at least once a day, he’ll ask if you still want to marry him, if you’re sure, if you love him -No rings before S2; the promise is made by drawing something for each other on your masks and clothes -After S2, he still can’t afford a ring, but now that life is more stable, he can start thinking about a more traditional gift, like a piece of jewelry

Vander:

-This man is ravenous for any family role you might offer him—fiancé, father, husband. Anything goes -The first time you call him “husband”, he plays it cool but will seize the first opportunity to return the favor by telling a customer you’re married -As soon as he can, he’ll squeeze your hand, even under the counter -The idea of being married and having a complete family is everything he’s ever wanted -He won’t stop calling you “my beautiful wife/husband” from that moment on.

-You said it first; you can’t take it back. Now you have to get married

Silco (old man):

-This man’s only sin is loving too much, but I’ll save that reflection for another post -Having no ties other than his illegitimate daughter doesn’t make him someone who’s particularly keen on formalities -The first time you call him “your husband” is in front of Sevika, and he slowly turns to look at you, while she slowly turns to look at him -“Did I... miss something?” Sevika asks, but he doesn’t reply, still perplexed, before glancing at her and saying, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” -He’s relieved but doesn’t show it. He can’t afford to just yet -As soon as he confirms you were serious, your name will be flamboyantly forgotten—he’ll constantly refer to you as “my wife/husband”

Silco (young):

-The man who survives on love -The first time you call him your husband is in front of Vander, and while Vander bursts out laughing, Silco chokes on his drink -“Are you serious?” He’s so happy that his pale iris are completely swallowed by his dilated pupils -He grabs a pen and draws a ring around your finger -To his credit, he works in a mine, so it’s hard to do better than that, but it becomes the goal that keeps him going -Completely focused on family, the future, and anything that sees the two of you together and happy

Steb:

-The first time you call him your husband is at a dinner among enforcer families, and being mute doesn’t stop him from stealing the spotlight -He whips around, blinking slowly with only his third eyelid in a gesture of confusion -When he’s 100% sure he understood what you said, his eyes widen, the small membranes under his eyes flutter madly, and even the barely visible gills near his jaw gasp for a moment -Someone says, “I didn’t know you were married,” and he immediately nods enthusiastically, not giving you time to take it back -Within 48 hours, he’ll have the ring ready

Jinx:

-The first time you call her “your wife”, she freezes -“What did you just call me?” -She’s used to being a little sister, a big sister, a daughter—she’d never thought she could be a wife. Family ties aren’t chosen, but the idea that someone would want her in their life so much they’d marry her feels incredible -“You want to marry me? Really? Why?” -She bursts into tears, and it’ll take at least 24 hours of cuddling in bed to calm her down -After that, she’ll run to her father to announce that she’s now a married woman

Vi:

-She might not be Silco and/or Vander’s blood daughter, but she’s inherited their deep desire for family -From her family’s tragic fate to Vander’s, she’s always seen family as the ultimate aspiration -When you call her “your wife” for the first time, she doesn’t notice right away, but a full minute later, she whirls around to look at you, as if to ask for confirmation -“Say it again.” -“...You need to buy bread?” -“No, all of it.” -“My wife needs to go buy bread.” -“Again.”

-"My... wife?"

-"Again"

Caitlyn:

-Has she thought about it? Yes -Was she planning to act on it? Not exactly -Caitlyn struggles with emotions and feelings, which is why she hesitates and takes her time -But when you first call her “your wife”, her brain completely shuts off—she just stares at you, unable to hear a single word being said -If you or someone else asks her a question, she’ll snap out of it and respond, -“My wife/husband said everything.” Even if it makes no sense as an answer, making you laugh and leaving the other person baffled

Mel:

-Not a single flicker of surprise—the first time you call her “your wife”, she remains completely composed -“So, I’m your wife?” she asks as soon as you’re in private, approaching you like a feline. You can almost hear the purr in her voice -She’s amused but also intrigued by whatever game you’re playing -The idea of marriage is complicated for her—on one hand, it feels like it would limit her freedom to act, while on the other, unresolved family issues seem to devour her at the mere thought of starting a new cycle -She’ll tell you to go ahead, to get married, but she’ll also ask for time -In the meantime, though, she’ll start using the term “husband/wife” with you—she likes the way it rolls off her tongue

Sevika:

-Between the work she does, the environment she lives in, and all the interesting circumstances of her life, marriage has never been on her radar -Not to mention that in Zaun, it’s not exactly a common practice—people just move in together and build families when they can, without much fuss over formalities or bureaucracy -The first time it happens, she’s playing cards with the other goons, and you casually ask if “your wife is winning” -Her first reaction isn’t even hers—it’s the others’. Dustin, the blond goon with the lazy eye, almost starts crying, embarrassing her -Don’t worry, she’ll make you pay for it at home -She won’t ask to formalize anything, but in true Zaunite fashion, she’ll consider you married, plain and simple

[leviackermanstoes]

Please do a jayvik x reader where reader is their assistant and constantly glances at the both or them while they're working and either Viktor or jayce catches her in the act

YES OF COURSE! I think this idea is so good!

A/N: This is a little bit suggestive but very minor. Mostly just jayvik teasing reader.

---

You've been assisting Jayce and Viktor for many months now. You've learnt many things about them, like how jayce enjoys a cup of milk late at night and when viktor is tired he'll hum to himself. You've brought them Drinks and food and helped them out with their blueprints and stacks of paper. You were their doting and loyal assistant always happy to lend a hand.

But you thought you were subtle in your actions, how you always snuck glances at jayce when he was flexing his tanned muscles while hammering something, or how you always gazed perhaps too long on viktor's nimble fingers working on small cogs.

Late one night in the lab as you sorted through a stack of diagrams as per viktor's request, You snuck a small glance at the two males at the desk working and conversing. Jayce's arms sat flexed and heavy against the table, his white button-up shirt rolled up his arms. Beside him, viktor was giving much darker vibes, his lips are close together in a line and he's got a slight arch in his brow. His red tie is loose and his sweater vest is undone by one button.

Safe to say you were pretty entranced by them.

Both are illuminated by a dim Amber light coming from the evening sky outside, and it only adds to their beauty.

"Is there something on my face?" Jayce knocks you out of your trance, his face decorated with a boyish smirk.

You scoffed and looked away. "You're really funny talis," you said sarcastically, your eyes rolling back in the process.

"I think you're pretty funny too." Two large hands sat on your desk.

You looked up to see Jayce. His dark eyes are boring holes into you as his square jaw clenches slightly. You see and feel something in his gaze that makes you feel on fire.

"I think it's funny that you think we don't see how you look at us"

Jayce's face grins when he sees the beet red tint blanket your face, your jaw hangs low as the two of them begin to laugh.

"I didn't mean to make you both uncomfortable I jus-"

"You're scaring her, jayce. Relax, love, it's okay. " viktor held up his bony hand with a small smile. "Were not interrogating you, ignore him"

You took a deep breath and stood up to find a new pencil. You could feel the two scientists' eyes still on you. One like honey one like midnight, but both equally as enthralling.

"If I've done something wrong, please tell me"

"You haven't done anything wrong, love. Why didn't you mention you had a crush on us? Were not that scary, are we?" Jayce finishes his sentence with a deep chuckle.

"No, of course not, but your both-", you fixed your glasses. ",well your both quite attractive and a bit out of my league, so I just decided to stay quiet,"

Both jayce and viktor stepped closer to you, the two of them putting a hand on either shoulder for some kind of comfort. You first looked at viktors honey golden eyes. They were gentle and encircled by dark tint.

"You weren't very quiet with your eyes movements, dear. Infact I'm surprised you didn't notice either of us also looking at you, we've caught you staring many times"

"What?" Your mouth fell agape.

Jayce laughed. "Of course we noticed. You were staring when viktor was fixing his tie earlier last night before we left for the meeting"

Viktor interrupted. "And at that very same meeting, I caught you drooling over jayce when he was giving his speech"

By now, you were bright red and hiding behind your hands. You could've died right then and there of pure embarrassment. You couldn't believe that your secret endeavours of glancing upon your superiors had finally been noticed.

"Oh my gosh I had no idea!" You exclaimed.

Trying to help with your blushing but failing deeply, and really only making it worse, jayce put his hand in yours. It was rough and calloused and warm and felt like home. You were at home with them and you hoped that they would be understanding about this all.

"How would you like to upgrade from assistant to partner? It's a full-time position,"

Viktor grinned and ran his free hand through his hair, the other holding his cane.

"Are you... serious?" You looked at the both of them. Eyes darting back and forth.

They both nodded eagerly. "You've been deeply loyal and loving to us for many months now, and you've become more to us than just an assistant," jayce spoke as he held your hand tightly.

Quickly, almost embarrassingly so, you said yes. Viktor planted soft kisses to your cheek.

"Come with us dear"

[angelltheninth]

When Arcane Men Get Jealous

Pairing: Viktor, Jayce, Ekko, Vander, Silco, Finn, Marcus, Loris, Steb x Fem!Reader

Tags: fluff, jealousy, possessive behavior, being protective, kissing in public, biting, holding hands, public display of affection, canon typical violence, suggestive

Ko-Fi | Rules | Fandoms and Characters | Commissions

A/N: Would die if they were jealous over me. Melt into a puddle. Gone.

When Viktor gets jealous he gets a bit more withdrawn than he usually is. Not that he was ever a social butterfly, however he was always more open and happy to talk when it was with you. So his behavior is odd, he even seems to get quieter whenever you walk into the room. Like he's trying to remove himself from you with silence.

"I am not avoiding you. Look, there has been a lot to do for the past week, I'm sorry if you got a bad impression but I was simply busy. If you want more company, go ask Jayce, or Skye, I'm sure they will be more than happy to entertain you, darling."

Viktor is short with his answers, saying as little as possible to minimize the amount of time he spends talking to you. Not because he doesn't want to talk to you, he loves talking to you, but if he keeps talking there's a chance he might say something he's going to regret. And end up hurting you.

"There you go again with these ridiculous accusations. You won't leave it alone will you? So now it's my fault that your project is running late? I would have been happy to help but someone was too busy talking with... you know what, nevermind. You're right, we both have a lot to do, so let's just drop this conversation and focus on work."

If you keep getting in the way of his work, Viktor will eventually come to a breaking point. Him not being able to work is only adding to his emotions, and he's never been the best at dealing with them. While he doesn't exactly yell at you, it's very rare that he ever raises his voice there's a notable frustration in his words, and pain, fear that you'd leave.

"If I'm being so unreasonable then leave. Go. Have fun. I know it's not idea to be cooped up in the lab all the time. There are so many more things to do out there. if you... want to go with other people I suppose I can't stop you, nor can I stop my own jealousy. How am I being even more unreasonable? I know you wouldn't leave me without talking about it. Look... I do not... want you to leave, working is more fun with you. But am I truly all that you want? Me? This lab? Because you're all I want. All that I can think of."

When Jayce gets jealous he keeps invading your personal space when you're around the person or people he's jealous of. His behavior is nothing innapropriate or pushy. It's just his arm around your waist, just him bringing you that drink you wanted, just him bragging about you a bit too loud and saying how much he loves you.

"You really are great, babe. How in Runterra did I ever find a beauty like you huh? What's that bashfulness for now, I always praise you, and I'm never gonna stop. You're my girl right? I can be a proud boyfriend and talk you up every once in a while."

Physical affection a big deal to Jayce and a way he shows he cares but also a giveaway to his jealousy. He holds your hand longer, his eyes flicker between you and the one he's jealous off, his smile is a bit more nervous when he has to leave you alone. Then there are his kisses, not as gentle, not a little, quick peck on the edge of your lips but a real kiss, lips pressed against yours until you let him know you need air.

"Got a bit carried away there. Ah, sorry, I can't resist you sometimes. All the time. Do you expect me to when you wear lipstick like that? Makes your lips look like they're made to be kissed. By me specifically. I'd kiss you all night long, for the rest of our lives and never get tired of it."

Jayce keeps denying that he's jealous when you bring it up in a teasing way. Logically there's no reason to get jealous, everyone knows your relationship is doing great, in fact you're hardly ever fighting and even when you are it doesn't last too long. How does he turn that part of his brain off? How can he not get jealous when all those people look at you the way he looks at you?

"They're always looking at you. How can you not notice? It's so obvious. You don't notice because... you're only looking at me? That doesn't even make sense! Of course they're looking, you're breathtaking everywhere you go. I just hope that wherever you go, you'll always take me with you, because I want to be by your side forever."

Ekko often jokes about being jealous so you don't pick up on him actually being jealous. A little jealousy is fine but not when it's getting in the way of his missions and operations with his team. He'd been a bit distracted in the past, by one of the Firelights flying too close to you, so he pushed his way between you two.

"It was the formation! Which you would have remembered if you weren't too busy chatting. Come on, Firefly, get your head in this. Otherwise you're gonna make your leader jealous. Wouldn't want that right? What if... what if you get demoted for it? Hey! Ow! I wouldn't demote you, who would listen to all my plans?"

When you have free time together Ekko makes sure to spend as much time with you as possible. If you're together all the time there's less chance that someone else will swoop in and flirt with you. He would never describe his behavior as being clingy, all he wants is to spend free time with his girlfriend. That is perfectly normal behavior.

"What do you say we go out to get some food? We don't have to spend all our time here. Not like the tree is gonna burn down if we're away for a couple of hours right? Besides it's been a while since it was just you and me all alone. Miss being alone with you. Don't you miss it too?"

If the person he's jealous of ever puts you in danger in any way Ekko will go off on them. Harder than he scolded others in the past. He might let some of his jealousy show then, but he storms off, well flies off before you can talk to him. As much as he wants to be alone he also makes room for you on his hoverboard when you float down next to him.

"Shouldn't have went off on them like that. I know, you don't gotta say it, I'll say I'm sorry. Let cool off a bit. You'd think that if they were flirting with you that much they could have been looking out a bit better. I'm always looking out for you. Maybe a bit too much. Sorry if I've been weird about it lately. Would you forgive me if I took you on a romantic hoverboard ride?"

No one wants to piss off a big man like Vander by flirting with his wife. Everyone values their life and their bones too much. But... they stare at you. Quite openly actually. You see it, and you bet he sees it too. He sees everything that's happening at his bar and he won't stand for someone ogling his wife, even if he has to get aggressive about it.

"It's my damn bar, I've got the right to break the table with their heads when they're looking at ya like that. Tell ya what, a lot more people would avoid this place if I started beating up every asshole that looks at ya wrong. Only reason I don't is cause I don't want ya to be mad at me after."

He hasn't banned anyone from his bar in a very long time. Vander knows he tolerates a lot, this is Zaun, and some people don't have the best manners, that's not exactly their fault. But on the other hand if they start something with him then he will finish it. When he tells them to stop looking at you like you like you were one of Babette's workers and they get in his face he will pick them up and throw them out.

"Bastards had it coming. I tried to be nice, then they had to go and call ya names. Ain't no way in hell I'm gonna let anyone insult my wife. Not here, not on the streets, not anywhere. I went there and I wanted to talk to them, tell them to fuck the hell off, they were the ones who started getting violent. So I responded in kind."

Vander calls you over to the bar a bit more often if he sees a particular table is trying to monopolize you. He carries some of the drinks over, the food plates too, or he simply walks up behind you when one of the guys is getting flirty. Seeing his imposing, huge frame behind you, his muscles bulging, is enough to get most to back off you.

"See, darlin', I can talk things out just fine. When people are being smart about it that is. Might have to stop selling so much booze in this place, then they won't be so bold with ya. Ya are a pretty sight, I can't say otherwise. But ya are a pretty sight for me, not them, ain't that right? Mhm. I know, I'm all yer's too."

Silco never ever says he's jealous of anyone. He is the most powerful man in all of Zaun, everyone is scared of him and with good reason. As the Eye of Zaun he knows when people are looking, talking too, and might even try to touch you. Those people are often payed a not so nice visit by his men.

"I did hear about that gang, yes. It's very unfortunate that they don't know how to keep their noses where they don't belong. It's not that big of a loss on our end. There are a hundred people who can do their work, and better. All that matters is that they won't even have to think about not touching you again."

He rarely has to get his own hands dirty when he gets jealous. All it takes is him saying who the target or targets are and he makes them dissapear from Zaun. That doesn't always have to be deadly, but if they're really dumb it is. If Silco feels that you're in some kind of danger then he will keep you close by. He tries to distract you from seeing he's jealous.

"All I'm saying is that we could take a break from work. Sevika and Jinx can handle a week of it. And you and me can lock ourselves up in our home and not come out. The bedroom works perfectly fine too, if you'd rather spend our time in there. And what is it that I'm doing, darling? Jealous? You are an observant one. I wouldn't want you any other way."

The only time Silco will threaten someone in person is if that someone is bold enough to flirt with you in front of them. He can scare people within an inch of their life just by talking to them, he's not just a good businessman, and some people tend to forget that. He has Zaun in the palm of his hand, and everyone in it.

"He did not actually piss himself. Did he actually. Hm, I wasn't look at him anymore to be honest. He was spineless, surprising given he talked to you like he did. Guess he was thinking with his other head a bit too much for his own good. Why are you looking at me that way? Ah, I see. Looks like someone enjoyed watching me put a scumbag into his place a bit too much."

Since Finn isn't someone who would take anything lying down he will be damned before he sees someone coming onto his woman and not do anything about it. He might have a certain charm about him but that doesn't mean he's not ready to makes heads roll the moment when someone crosses any kind of line with you. Imaginary or otherwise.

"Hah, did you see that doll? As soon as I threw one punch he went down. All his buddies ran like rats. Left him all alone there. After all that tough talk and he couldn't even defend himself. Serves him right. He's lucky all I did was break his nose when he flirted with you. I wasn't even that far away."

Finn will make out with you in front of who ever he is jealous of just to prove a point to them. And while he has you moaning, has your head buried against his neck and your body running hot he will look at the other person and stick his tongue out at them, right before making a V with his fingers and putting his tongue between them. He's vulgar but it gets the point across very well.

"All these people looking at what's mine. Now, I can't have that right? I love that you're showing off your body, it's a great body, you know how much I love it. But sometimes I want to keep you away from prying eyes. And if I can't the least I can do is give them a show. Make them know I'm the only one who can touch you."

His jacket is a signature part of his outfit, but Finn will let you wear it. Hell, he will walk over and drape it over your shoulders while not even looking at whoever you're talking to. Sometimes they're not worth looking at when he can look at the pretty way you blush as you touch his hand that's lingering on your shoulder.

"Thought you looked a bit cold there. Keep this on all night. Later on I'll help you warm up my way, a much more fun way. Don't even worry about your perfume getting all into this, love having your scent all over me. And by tomorrow you're gonna be wearing all of my marks."

There are a lot of people in the Enforcers who tease Marcus about having such a pretty wife. He knows you're pretty, but he doesn't like that the department is noticing it so much as well. Not that there's any way for him to hide it, or that he wants you to hide it, that would be a real crime.

"I was not pouting. That is so childish. I was glaring at them. Well, they were the ones who stared first. You visit me at work, like that's such a big deal. We're married, honey, I pick you up from work too. Why is it such a big deal here? I think they're just trying to get a rise out of me."

Won't deny that he's feeling jealous or shy away from showing it. When Marcus notices any of his men flirting with you he makes them work extra hard that day, he gives them more paperwork, something that everyone hates there, or assigns them to the toughest jobs that he knows will take them days to complete. He can't help but chuckle when you visit again and they're too tired to flirt with you, they just say hello.

"What do you mean I'm picking on them? Of course not. You know how hard it is to deal with all these extra cases. Someone has to take on a few more. No, the fact that it's the same Enforcers who gave you flowers that one time has nothing to do with it. You think it does? And do you have evidence of this accusation?"

Marcus isn't shy about kissing you in front of the whole department. If that's what it takes to send them all a clear message to back off. It's always perfectly chaste kisses, but he does make sure that everyone hears him say he loves you when you leave. He smirks when eyes turn to him and he wishes them all a good rest of their day.

"Now you call me petty. All of these accusations and you still don't have any evidence. That's not a very good way to have a case. You've been keeping count have you? Oh. You... actually have been keeping count? I'm guilty? Fine, you got me, you got me. Maybe... that was a little petty of me, but I'm not sorry."

Every time Loris is jealous it's almost impossible for him to hide that fact. He's a big guy, nothing about him is easy to his, not even his emotions. And he's loud, so every time he huffs, mumbles something, or grunts you hear it. Your eyes meet and he looks away, his hand grasping yours and running his thumb over the back of your hand.

'They were staring at you a bit too much for my liking, pretty girl. If they were as tough as they pretend they were they should have held their ground more. Proves they were all bark and no bite. People like that really get on my nerves, and then they talk to my girl like she's single."

Loris invites you to have lunch with him quite often, even more often when he gets jealous of someone who works with him. Dealing with them in any other way would be unprofessional of him, and might get him in trouble. This way he gets to avoid that, avoid them, and spend a nice lunch date with you. No matter how you look at it he's the real winner here.

"Looks so good. But if you keep looking at me like that I might get hungry for something else besides the food. Just try shifting the blame on me when you know exactly how you're looking at me right now. I wouldn't risk it at work, but... if you showed up with a few hickeys on your neck it might get the rest of the department to stop flirting with you."

As much as he tries to make his jealousy go away it's not easy. Loris knows he should be an example for others, after all he had been an Enforcer for a long time, he can't just let his emotions get the better of him. Hard to keep those emotions down when they concern you. If nothing else works he will intimidate people. Easy enough for him. But he would rather that be a last resort.

"If he wasn't ready to throw fists and words at me then he shouldn't have thrown flirty words at you. He should be able to back himself up if he's gonna be saying stuff like that. All I did was pick him up and throw him outside. Hey, I might get in a bit of trouble for it, but at least he'll leave you alone from now on. I'd risk my badge for you if I have to, you know that."

Since he is the quiet type Steb shows his emotions and jealousy is one that he works hard to surpress. Every time he notices that someone is standing a little too close to you he walks over and looks at you, lovingly, then he looks at the other person with a glare, a deadly one. All the while he's standing shoulder to shoulder with you.

"Come now, angelfish, they weren't even worth your time. We both know they only had one thing in mind when they were talking to you. I could see it in their eyes. I don't appreciate that they looked at you like that. And I know you don't either. So I felt like I had to step in."

He is very physical with his jealousy. Steb lets his eyes and touches linger a few moments longer when he wants to make a point to someone. While he knows you don't hate it he also doesn't want to come off as too jealous or too possessive over you. You can take care of yourself and he loves that about you, he's watched you put people in their place often, but there are times where he can't hold himself back.

"I could feel your fingers interlocking with mine. You wanted me to stand close to you when they weren't leaving you alone. Would you have raised your voice if I hadn't walked over? It would be amusing to see it. But I think those kisses we shared also sent an equally powerful message. You didn't have to bit me though."

Steb nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck when he's feeling really, really jealous of someone. He makes it look less possessive than it is, pretending like he's overhearing something you have to say, and then pushing himself just a little bit closer. His cold lips make contact with your neck, sending shivers down your body before he brushes your lips with his thumb and leaves with a smirk.

"That ought to be enough. I could have done more but marking you in public might have been a step too far. We can enjoy things like that in private however. I enjoy being close to you in any context, and if it makes others realize you're not looking for anyone because you've already got a man then I enjoy it even more."

[unluckiestmember]

how abt headcanons for the arcane women on a beach date? :0 feel free to add/remove anyone ^^

Coming right up!

Arcane X Beach Date with Reader!

Characters: Powder/Jinx, Violet "Vi", Caitlyn Kiramman, Ekko, Viktor, Jayce Talis, Mel Medarda, Sevika, Ran and Vander

Warning: Some slight suggestive themes and mild cursing. But pretty much SFW.

A/N: Aww, summer is practically over! I hope you guys had fun this summer and stayed safe! Whatever is next in the future, I hope we all have a great time and look forward to the rest of 2024! We only got three more months until Season Two guys, I know we can do it even if it feels so far. So let's hang in there!

Powder/Jinx

“Hey, hurry up and look over here, toots! I’m about to pull off the biggest cannonball!... Yeah, yeah, I’ll be fine- Now watch me!”

At the beach, Jinx is absolutely going to do everything under the sun, whether it be legal or illegal! She might not be the best swimmer, but she loves getting in the water, especially jumping in and getting her adrenaline going. And you better expect her to get you involved in a water fight! Just don’t expect her to play fair, girlie has a bunch of mechanisms she can make into weapons for your game and she’s not afraid to use them!

Sand castles are requested and being buried in sand is a must. A date at the beach with the Loose Cannon feels more like a hangout than a lovely day together in the sand, but don’t get it wrong. Jinx loves spending time with you at the beach and will sneak some kisses to your cheek or slam her lips on yours. She’s pretty sure your beach date is probably one of the best days of her life and it’s all thanks to you.

Violet “Vi”

“This is the perfect weather for a nice swim, babe. Hey- Race you to the other side. Last one there is buying ice cream!”

When you invited Violet to a date on the beach, she was more than ready, she was beyond excited! She is a perfect balance between playful and romantic, always flirting with you in regards to your swimsuit and even sneaking some seductive touches along your body. And right when she’s done or is about to kiss you, she’s quick to trick you by running away gleefully waiting for you to catch her or messing with you.

She’s not exactly the best of swimmers, but is willing to learn and get her feet wet just for you. If you both aren’t having fun talking to each other and exploring the beach side by side, then guests of the beach better expect to see a happy couple making out in the sand or getting affectionate. Peering eyes or none, a beach date with Violet is all you could ever ask for and more.

Caitlyn Kiramman

“Ahh, isn’t this absolute bliss, my love-... Did. Did you just splash me? Oh, you’re gonna pay royally for that.”

Caitlyn has been to the beach quite a lot in the summer with her family and always loved spending time on the coast. So when you asked her on a getaway there, she was immediately on board. During your date, she makes sure you are all okay, rubbing sunscreen on you and checking if all your equipment is accounted for. Caitlyn is more on the quieter side, having a picnic in the sand with you or laying in the shade and just catching the breeze.

But do not let this fool you; She can be playful and accept your requests to swim, especially since she’s a pro at it, or just play in general! She’ll always be open to exploring underwater with you or even making some sand castles together! When it’s time to go, Caitlyn almost doesn’t want to leave, but at least she has a sweet memory and new tradition to share with you.

Ekko

“You’re right, we all needed this vacation. Everyone’s happy and you’re happy, so I’m fine. Wanna take a swim with the others?”

Ekko has never been to the beach before. He’s only heard stories from Pilties that passed by the undercity and seen pictures of it, but has never set foot on one, and neither has the Firelights. Whenever he needed a swim or a getaway, he would just find a local lake or river to satisfy him and everyone else’s needs. So you can imagine his surprise when you set up a little vacation for him and his allies on the coast!

The leader of the firelights is beyond happy the entire time you’re by his side and showing off the beach to the firelights, engaging in small games of volleyball or tag with the young ones. Of course it’s still a date for you two, so he’s sure to give you all the love and care you could ask for when the kids or Scar aren’t taking up you two’s time. But even then, it is all in all a fun experience to share, whether alone or with the freedom fighters.

Viktor

“Aye! How is the water so cold? Maybe you should swim on without me… Don’t worry, I’ll keep watch-. H-Hey! Fine, I’ll join you, let’s just take it slow.”

It had been years since Viktor had stepped on a beach before you asked him on a date there. The once feeling of sand in his feet made him raise an eyebrow and the wind touching his skin had him a bit nervous with his body out. From the looks of it, you were sure at first that this would be a hard time to enjoy together…

But after a while and a bit of convincing to let loose with some encouragement, the scientist finally let loose a little and enjoyed all of the beach with you. He may not be able to swim, but walking in the water, holding your hand and feeling the small waves crash into his ankles? Now that was a piece of absolute heaven. And exploring uncharted territories with you to find the most beautiful of caves was beyond delightful. He would have to remind himself to come to the beach with you more often.

Jayce Talis

“What’s up? Are you admiring my muscles?... If you’re looking at them dry, I can’t wait to see how you’ll look at them wet. Now come on in!”

All it took was one date to find out that Jayce practically belonged on the beach with you! There he acted like such an excited child in his trunks running immediately into the water with your hand in his to feel the waves wash over you two. Don’t expect to do much outside of swimming unless you need something from your personal belongings, and even then Jayce will go grab it for you and head straight back in!

He isn’t much of a goofball swimming with you outside of small moments of teasing, but he does get quite handsy and flirtatious, holding your waist and pulling you close to kiss you. Everyone can practically put together that you are his with how affectionate he is around you. And he doesn’t care either because he doesn’t mind putting you on the pedestal where you belong. It’s a chill date, but a nice date regardless.

Mel Medarda

“Mmm, we needed this, sweetheart. A day away from the nagging, pointless fighting and having to meet expectations? It’s absolutely worth it.”

A beach date with Mel has got to be one of the calmest dates you’ll ever have in your life. Mel isn’t much of a swimmer, preferring to just walk down the coast with you. But even then, she spends most of her time sunbathing and simply taking in the ambiance around the both of you in relaxation. For some it may be boring, but for her just being near you and practically doing nothing is heavenly.

Of course she won’t be a prude though. Sometimes she’ll take a minute and collect seashells to take home with her as souvenirs. And if you do want to swim around or really utilize the beach, she will let you and simply watch you having fun lovingly from the sidelines. That is unless you want her to join you, then just ask and she’ll be right by your side enjoying every second with you.

Sevika

“Ran is challenging me to volleyball and I was wondering if you’d want to be my partner?... Thanks babydoll- Hey, Ran! Get ready to get your ass kicked!”

Sevika doesn’t go to the beach unless it’s with a group of friends. Only then with them and you as company is she gonna have the time of her life! Outside of work and in the sand, the muscular woman is a lot more relaxed and a bit playful with everyone, including yourself. She’ll do whatever you’d like as long as it means you both are enjoying yourself.

Want to play a few games? She’s all for it. Want to just kick back and take in the sun and the waves? She’s cool with that too! Nothing is off limits for the Right Hand of Zaun, and I mean nothing. Because if you feel it’s not exactly a date, then Sevika has no problem taking you somewhere a bit more secluded and showing you a great time~. At the end of the day, you’re sure to look back on your time with your girlfriend at the beach fondly and can’t wait for the next one!

Vander

“We should try and make this a tradition. You, me and the kids, come down to the beach every summer. They’d look forward to it every year. And so will I…”

Everytime you and Vander go to the beach, it is usually with the kids as an annual family outing. Yeah, the both of you have to babysit a bit and deal with the mindless teasing of the sumprats when you both get intimate, but you enjoy yourselves regardless. You love when the Hound of the Undercity plays tag with his adopted children, even dragging you in for the ride and getting a good adrenaline kick from it all.

You two always leave the beach excited for the next time around the following year with tired kids needing to be laid down. He makes sure to let you know how grateful he was to spend time with you and everyone else, nuzzling into you and whispering how much he loves you. Though you miss those days, you never broke that tradition, even when the world fell apart. No matter what, you always come back every summer to the beach to keep the memory alive…

If you got any requests for Arcane or X-Men '97, send them my way!

Likes and retweets are always appreciated! I love you all, stay hydrated and have a good day! <3

[bitchface24-7]

Hiii! How are you? I hope you had a wonderful day. Now, I'm here with an idea, I was thinking what if Jayce (and maybe Viktor, but I don't know how to make it work) traveled to another reality, like Ekko, but in this reality nothing of what happened happened. I mean, yeah, the explosion happens and blah blah blah, but in this world reader doesn't die (I love angst I'm sorry) and that helps Viktor not turn into the herald and try to kill everyone. I don't know, just a thought, you can use it to inspire yourself or not, that's perfectly fine. If you do write it thank you, and if you do not thank you anyways. Love your blog, keep on like that 😘

THE ONE’S THAT GOT AWAY - JAYVIK X READER

synopsis: Jayce isn’t sure how he got here. Did the older Viktor he met who was a mage cast the spell wrong, was it when he and Viktor accepted fate in the cosmos, or was it his gift from the gods he no longer believes in, bringing him back to the two most important people in his life. One of them he died with. The other died much earlier.

warnings: MCD undeath (you're all alive now, hurrah! But the death with be mentioned), Jayce thinking he’s gone mad, crying, comfort, a world where EVERYONE IS ALIVE, poor Jayce; we’re so mean to him. Plot twist… Grammarly is my beta.

genre: m/f or m/m (with a realization of m/m/f or m/m/m)

p.s. Y'all just like putting my boy through the ringer!! Hopefully, he gets his peace here.

Jayce is scared. He's only in his early thirties and he's going to die. Everything is destroyed, their lab, their dreams, their future. All blowing in the wind like ashes, and the ground is stained with blood.

This was never supposed to happen. Hextech was meant to improve lives not become… what it became. You, Jayce, and Viktor were supposed to live long, happy lives. Maybe move out of the city, find a small town and live in a cozy cottage. Or even find a nice house in Piltover where you're in prime real estate. The markets and transit not too far from us.

But all of that is dead now. You died from a dormant virus in your body, it was waiting to strike when you were most happy. Your family has had it in their bloodline for years; and you didn't tell anyone.

You died in your sleep, painlessly, peacefully. Neither Jayce or Viktor knew until they went to your apartment to check on you, it wasn't like you to not come into the lab, not unless you told them before hand.

It was almost like you were sleeping. Your face was at ease, your body stiff. Jayce could lie to himself and say you were in a deep sleep, but he knew the truth. You were dead. Your chest wasn't moving, you were cold to the touch, and there was no pulse.

Viktor stood there horrified, before trying his best to find some sign of life. The more he looked, the more desperate he became. Jayce was frozen. He had finally asked you out on a date, it happened just a few days ago. You shared a kiss. Now you're dead.

Jayce silently walks to the home-phone attached to your wall and calls an ambulance, explains the situation in the most monotone voice he's ever produced, and quietly hangs the phone up; not even hearing what the phone opperator told him.

But he does hear Viktor crying, his hand over his mouth muffling sobs. Jayce walks over to him on autopilot and hugs him as tightly as he can and Viktor collapses into his arms.

They don't move until the paramedics come.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

After that, everything went downhill. Sky went missing, Hextech was made into weaponry, he and Viktor’s relationship became strained, the council room explodes due to a bomb, Viktor dies, Jayce breaks his promise to destroy the hexcore, he uses it to revive Viktor, turns out Sky died due to the hexcore.

Viktor leaves.

And Jayce is all alone.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Viktor's become a herald of some kind; a messiah. Healing the ill and injured in the Under— Zaun. He talks to Jayce through Salo, mentions all his accomplishments, and wishes he had this power back then to save you.

Jayce winces.

He kills Salo and goes to the commune, he kills Viktor.

Then the Machine Herald is born.

Viktor tries to get Jayce to be his partner again, desperately missing him, and you. It doesn't work.

They fight, they reunite, they die together in a massive glow of white.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Jayce jolts up from his bed, frantically patting his face and his body. What the hell is going on?

He's alive? How is he alive?! He died with Viktor in the cosmos, he shouldn't be here right now! He's panicking until a familiar hum interrupts his thoughts.

“Hi, sweetheart! I know those meetings with the council are exhausting so I brought your coffee to yo— what happened?!” You gasp, and Jayce bursts into tears. You place the mug of coffee onto the dresser and rush over to Jayce to hug him.

You're here too, you're alive. Your hair is the same, your smile is still blindingly bright, and your signature scent washes over Jayce as he sobs even harder; barely breathing.

“Oh Jayce whats wrong? Was it a nightmare? You don't have to tell me, I'm right here. I'll always be here.”

Jayce’s cries become much louder at that and you start to panic. You've never seen Jayce cry like this— ever. This is gut-wrenching to see, and you're gonna need another set of hands to help you.

“Viktor! A little assistance please!”

Jayce's cries stop momentarily but pick up when the other man enters the bedroom. He's here too. He's alive too. And he looks so good, so healthy. He still has prominent cheek bones, and he still has dark circles under his eyes; but he looks like when Jayce first met him, if not even healthier. His posture is much better, his leg brace is gone, but he's still using his cane. His hair is longer too, with the blonde highlights he briefly saw before his chest was caved in due to his hammer.

A look of confusion sits on the mans face before a brief look of understanding flashes by. So quickly that if you blinked, you would've missed it.

“Oh my loves, what’s happened?” Viktor quietly asks as he goes to Jayce's other side, completing the goup hug. Jayce has never felt more safe as he has between you two.

“I don't know,” you state, a worried furrow of your brow gives away how scared you are, “I just came into the room and he broke down. Maybe it was a nightmare?”

Viktor nods before looking imploringly at Jayce, “Maybe it could be he’s been bottling everything up and finally reached his breaking point?”

Jayce squirms under the truthful accusation, and looks anywhere but to the two of you, “Jayce! You're allowed to come to us when you need it! I thought we agreed, no more suffering in silence.”

A light shrug is what you get for your reprimand, “Its a hard habit to break.”

You coo and run you hand through his dark hair, his beard tickles your nose when you kiss his cheek, “I know sweetheart, but we’re here for you. How about this,” you offer, “I make your favourite breakfast, Viktor stays here with you and then we all eat together. Sound good?”

Jayce wants to say no. He just got you back, and he can't handle losing you again, but at Viktors look— one he's well acquainted with when he wants to talk in private. He gives in and agrees to your bargain.

You give both of them a kiss on the forehead and leave the bedroom. Keeping the door open so you can hear them if they need anything from you.

Jayce sniffles and looks at Viktor, Viktor looks back at him in understanding. “You weren't expecting this, huh? Neither was I. Luckily for me I had my panic attack last night. I was able to find journals to read to realize where I was.”

“You’re my Viktor?”

“I’m your Viktor.”

Jayce sighs, “Where the hell are we, Viktor? They're alive. We’re in a room I’ve never seen before. You're the healthiest I've ever seen you, and your hair is different.”

“What did you think about before dying?”

A long silence is held before Jayce demurely responds, “A world where the three of us were happy. In the perfect house with our perfect lives. Nothing major has gone wrong, nobodies died, there was no war, Hextech succeeded. You know… the usual.”

Viktor just looks at the man and hugs him tightly, brushing his nose into the crook of his neck, “I thought along the same line. Now we’re here; I guess this is our happy ending? For all the pain and suffering we went through.”

Jayce sighs, he feels a headache forming, “Isn’t this wrong? We’re not… we’re not their Jayce and Viktor. We could be missing years of memories that we’ll never get to know about.”

Viktor chuckles, “We’re scientists Jayce. We write everything down, besides, I got them to tell us the story of how we all got together.”

“We… all… what? Write down— what are you saying?”

Viktor looks coyly at Jayce, “We wrote everything down, like a journal. And for all of us— you two started dating, but really nothing changed. And the things you two did for one another; you did for me too. You came to the hilarious realization that, you love me too.”

Jayce quirked an eyebrow, a little offended, “Hilarious?”

“You burst into the lab startling the two of us and yelled, “ARE WE ALL DATING?!” In a panicked, frenzied tone. They just looked at you and said, “I thought we were all on the same page, guess not.” And you fainted. I almost pissed myself in laughter.”

Jayce sputters, his face going red. He’s not that oblivious, is he? He thinks back on his interactions with you, with Viktor, and with the two of you together; and comes to a startling conclusion.

“Oh… oh no. I’m an idiot. How come I never realized?!”

Viktor pats his cheek in solidarity, “You’re a very intelligent man, Jayce Talis. But that doesn’t mean you’re smart in other areas of life.”

“Oh geez. Thanks.”

“No problem.”

The two men hear your voice from the kitchen, “C’mon you two, breakfast is ready! We still need to get our formal wear from the tailor for the Distinguished Innovators Competition later tonight. We’re the judges this time, we can’t be late and I want to see what Powder and Ekko invented!

Jayce is gobsmacked and Viktor chuckles at him, “Turns out perfecting Hextech makes us quite famous in the science world. We’re highly sought after guest speakers at the academy, explaining our success in transportation, ventilation, plant-life, and medicine. Our lovely partner is a professor at the academy for all students mandatory English class. Powder and Ekko are their favourite student’s; but they’ll never admit it.”

Jayce feels like crying again, this time in happiness, “This is really real. This is our life now?”

“It’s really real. Now c’mon, I’d rather not get hit with a spatula because I came late to eat.” Viktor gets up, gets his cane and leaves the room. Jayce sits there stunned for a few seconds before following him, getting his mug of coffee of the dresser.

When he sees you standing there, all proud of the food you made for them, Jayce’s heart melts.

He deserves this.

You all deserve this.

And with that, he eats the most delicious breakfast he’s ever had, with two people he adores.

AHHHH!!! This idea was so good! I hope I balanced out the angst and the fluff well. This is so *mwah* love ya ❤️

[spxllcxstxr]

Jayce Dating Someone from the Undercity • Headcanon

(Gif not mine)

Request: i would like to request jayce x fem reader headcanons with a reader who is from the undercity. -- anon

Warnings: mention of undercity judgment/bigots, mentions of scars, general anxiety, still very very cute

A.N: JAYCE!!!! 😫😫😫😫😫😫 I love him so much, I hope you all enjoy!

•

You never thought you would end up with someone like Jayce Talis. Piltover’s Golden Boy. The Man of Progress. An easily excitable man with just the biggest heart. No, you never thought you’d ever be this lucky

At first you thought he was just some privileged top sider; pretty on the outside, ugly in the inside. But Jayce wears his big heart on his sleeve. Within moments of interacting with him it was revealed to you that he was a caring individual with dreams of helping people in need. He wanted peace and prosperity for all

No matter how hard he tries, Jayce will never understand what life was like in the murky depths of the Undercity. You had friends you considered as family growing up, of course; that was the sliver of happiness you were lucky enough to have. But even then life was tough

The constant fear of something lurking behind you (or hanging above you) was one you couldn't shake even after years of living top side with Jayce. The need to check over your shoulder when strolling through the streets of Piltover and the frantic obsession with double--no, triple--checking the locks in your apartment was a necessity that was buried deep within your soul

(When you first started dating you felt immensely embarrassed by the mannerisms the Undercity ingrained into you. It took a couple dates before Jayce asked you in a hushed voice if you were being followed by a chem-baron or some other adjacent criminal. At that point you knew you had to sit him down and explain everything)

Jayce is ever so patient when it comes to you. While in the lab he wants answers and results for whatever he's tinkering with, with you he feels as if he can sit and wait forever. If you ever need to talk he’s all ears

He never made you feel stupid or insane for your habits, not even when you first told him about how you were raised. Jayce was so patient as you told him with tears in your eyes that no amount of time top side would stop the gnawing anxiety your childhood gave you. He held your hands and wiped the tears away as they ran down your cheeks. You almost made him cry, golden eyes filled to the brim with tears making them look like liquid sunlight

That's when you really knew you loved him completely, and that he had loved you too. That was your Jayce, a man who wanted to understand you and have you know every second that he had your back

Despite your differences, Jayce never made you feel less than. Being top side made you feel like you were branded with the term 'Undercity Rat' across your forehead. People would give you looks and stuff their hands deep in their pockets to grasp onto their coins tighter when you walked by. But Jayce was never like that. Maybe it was because of his close friendship with Viktor, or maybe your sweet, sweet Jayce simply wasn't born with a bigoted bone in his body

Jayce also sticks up for you and has your back if anyone makes you feel unwelcome top side. He knows you can hold your own and fight your own battles, but he can’t help but get involved and defend you. His jaw clenches and his knuckles turn white from squeezing his hands into tight fists at his sides. He just doesn’t believe that you of all people should be judged. Jayce believes that you are a kind and beautiful soul and that you deserve the world

He likes holding your hand when walking around the city, not only because he’s big on touch and displays of affection, but also to let everyone know that he loves you—no matter your background

If you have any physical scars on your body he will always lightly kiss them; showing affection is what Jayce loves doing. He wants to make sure you know that he loves every single part of you

He loves that you and Viktor become friends. You two started out with a shared bond of being Undercity street kids turned top siders. Jayce asks Viktor for advice when it comes to you, whether you would like something or if you knew what something was

All in all, Jayce just wants you to feel loved every second of every day. He has so much love for you and he wants to show it. He’s just bursting out the seams with his admiration for you. You are his everything, and he’s never afraid to show that off

•

[honey-pages]

Tea and Biscuits - Viktor X Reader (Study Date Part 3)

This is part 3 to Study Date - as requested and crossposted to Ao3.

Description -

You awake in Viktor's bed after the adventurous night before.

1.1k words

F/M. 18+. Fluff. Brief Mention of Sex. Mostly SFW.

You wake up in Viktor’s bed the next morning. It is large and empty, prioritising comfort and space. His room is quite dark, lit only by lamps and small light sources. This was not the kind of sexual encounter where you wake up in an unfamiliar bed in a blur - you remembered exactly what happened the night before.

After the sex in the lab, Viktor held you tightly, not wanting to let you go. His smug cockiness in the library had given you the impression that he was perhaps more confident than he actually was in his acquisition of you. As he began to untangle himself from you, he learnt down and planted a kiss on your forehead.

In the closeness he spoke, “I want you to know (Y/N), that I would not get into this kind of entanglement if I did not intend to keep at least a part of me attached.”

You took a second to read further into what he was trying to say.

“I am not in the science of casual encounters.”

You allowed him to continue, providing no response.

“I have feelings for you.”

You felt almost as frozen as you did in the library. It was not that you did not reciprocate, you did. It was just that this confession came on so suddenly.

“It feels as though I have always had this passion for you, and I can’t hold it back anymore.”

You allow more time before realising that this is not what Viktor needs. Reassurance.

“Viktor, I feel the same.” You reply.

His face softens and his brow relaxes. He returns, “I always thought you were so special. Special enough that I was content to watch you and be around you, even if just from afar. I didn't know if my attention was what you needed.”

“What I needed?”

“You are so full of potential. So much power and emotion. I have seen you work, and I am interested in you far more than for just your brain, I assure you, I have not seen such passion in someone. You really are a rarity.”

You smile. It feels nice being seen. You knew Viktor on a work time basis, and it was nice to know you were not just more work for him. You had always imagined that he struggled to switch off, and he sometimes did, but when there is nothing to switch off and relax for- why not keep working? It was why you visited the library so often. Why you were so focused on your project. Shit. The project. Your mind focuses on the present. Your work is due Wednesday, and you need to defend it before the council panel. You wonder where Viktor is right now.

Looking around the room, you notice your clothes from last night are folded and draped over a chair next to his bed. You had slept naked in the end. You had not initially planned to, though the room was cold enough that when the two of you finally climbed into bed, you shed your clothes to press against each other. You skin to skin contact was electric and you held each other until now.

There’s a rattling sound coming from behind the door.

“Good morning (Y/N)” Viktor calls.

He walks in through the door backwards, propping it open with his back as he tilts down the door handle, juggling his cane and balance in the process. In his other hand precariously balanced is a tea tray.

He places down the tray on the nearest available surface - the end of the bed- and turns towards you.

“I made us some breakfast tea.” He beams.

He looks happy. His hair is fluffed and dishevelled and he wears just a loose pair of pyjama bottoms. He has been waiting in his lounge so as to not wake you, though to be close enough that when you did wake, he could go to the kitchen and make you-

“Breakfast tea! It’s made with tea (obviously), but also sweet milk and (optional) caffeine!” He looks proudly over the tea set he has put together.

You giggle, “Viktor that’s just regular tea”.

“Aha! You have fallen into my trap Miss (Y/N), regular tea is not served with…” He makes an anticipatory gesture with his hands. “Biscuits!”

You don’t correct him that tea is quite often served with biscuits. He looks so incredibly proud of his work. He has neatly arranged the pot, milk and cups and has served them in pristine fashion with accompanying small sweet brown sugar biscuits. You realise that this perhaps is a luxury Viktor does not have time to normally allow himself, you fill with gratitude and warmth. The teacups are mismatched. Living alone, it made sense as to why. He has never had to cater to anyone alongside himself, he only owns one of each set.

“Viktor it’s amazing, this all looks amazing!”

He sits himself in the chair, shifting your clothes onto the pillow behind you for when you need them. You become aware of your nakedness now your clothes are beside you. He stands once more, sitting on the edge of the bed next to you. He covers you both back up to the waist with the bed sheets and pulls the tray onto the flat of the both of your legs.

“How do you have it?” He asks.

You describe it to him, he pours it. You nibble at one of the biscuits, being careful to hold your hand underneath so no crumbs get into the bed. After he pours a drink for himself, one that’s very heavily milky, he wraps his arm around you, and you cuddle with your backs to the headboard. The world is warm again.

“Wednesday” Viktor states.

You look up at him, clueless.

“Your project. You need to defend your project to a board on Wednesday.”

“You remembered?”

“I’m on the board.” He grins.

Viktor spends the rest of his day running through techniques regarding presentation. He himself dislikes giving presentations, but he is experienced by proxy through the amount of projects he has seen go through the panel. You are not allowed to disclose the full details of your project to Viktor, now knowing he is on the board; however you allow vague descriptions of the concepts and rough ideas through the filter. He is very much interested and onboard- convinced you will succeed. It is only a few days until the presentation is scheduled and you are growing nervous.

“I have an idea that may ease your nerves. It is untested and it is one of my own creations, but I think it will help you remove some of the nervous associations you have with the boardroom.”

“That sounds like exactly what I need” You chime.

“It is slightly unconventional, but I think you are the perfect subject.”

[kirammanswifey]

wedding with arcane characters x fem reader

characters: viktor, jinx, vi, caitlyn, jayce, ekko, silco, mel and sevika.

writer's note: this was sooo cute, i'm literally sobbing and kicking my pillow right now, gosh i love being delusional. my favorite ones were sevika's and viktor's, let me know if you guys like it. as you already know request are open ;)

proposal link:

You stand at the end of the aisle, your dress a work of art, designed with light, soft fabrics that float around you. The subtle Hextech embroidery on the corset shines with every movement, a touch Viktor helped design, ensuring you wore something symbolizing his love for you and his passion for science. Your hair is styled in a loose bun, with a few strands framing your face, adorned with small blue flowers.

Viktor

The sun of Piltover shines softly, illuminating the grand terrace where your wedding with Viktor takes place. The city, known for its innovation and progress, seems to pause today to celebrate this intimate moment. The terrace is decorated with Hextech lights, which glow with a soft blue radiance, blending magic and science, something that defines your relationship with Viktor. White and blue flowers adorn every corner, reflecting a simple yet profound elegance.

At the other end of the aisle, Viktor awaits you, dressed in a suit that reflects his personality: sober and elegant, but with unique details. His black jacket has discreet blue embroidery, and instead of a tie, he wears a silk scarf that drapes gently over his chest, a symbol of his creativity and distinction. The look in his eyes is pure adoration and pride, though there is a slight spark of nervousness that only you can notice.

Heimerdinger, as a special guest, sits in the front row, his eyes shining with joy as he watches his former pupil unite with the woman who has changed his life. Jayce, standing next to him, smiles with fraternal pride, happy for his friend. The atmosphere is filled with soft murmurs and smiles, everyone expectant of the vows to come.

As you begin to walk towards Viktor, the world seems to stop. His eyes are fixed on you, and you can see how his breathing deepens, as if trying to capture every second of this moment. When you reach him, you take his hand, feeling his fingers tremble slightly, a reminder of his more human and vulnerable side.

The officiant says a few words about love and union, but everything seems to fade as Viktor looks into your eyes and begins to speak. His voice is firm but laden with emotion.

"All my life, I have sought answers in science, in calculations, in the tangible. But you... you are the only equation I can't solve, and I don't want to. You are my certainty in a world full of unknowns. And today, I want to promise you that I will stand by your side, not just as your partner in the lab, but as your husband, your support, your constant."

Tears begin to fill your eyes as his words pierce through you, but he continues, his voice softer now.

"I can't promise you that I'll always have the answers, but I can promise that I'll never stop searching for you, for us. You are my inspiration, my muse, and my eternal love. I choose you, again and again, in every possible reality."

The officiant gives you the signal to begin your vows, and you take a deep breath, holding Viktor's hands firmly.

"Viktor, you have shown me that love is more than a formula, more than an experiment. It is a constant discovery, an adventure I want to continue with you. I promise to stand by your side, in every success and every mistake, in every challenge and every triumph. Because you are my home, my refuge, and my infinite love."

The tears from both of you mix with the smiles as the officiant pronounces the words that unite you. Viktor gently pulls you close and kisses you, a kiss full of love, gratitude, and promises that were about to be sealed.

The kiss you share with Viktor is warm and gentle but filled with meaning. It's a moment of vulnerability that you both share, a point of union where all logic and science fade away, leaving only pure love. When you part, your eyes meet again, and the intensity of his gaze makes you feel as if the entire world has disappeared, leaving only the two of you in your universe.

Applause erupts around you, but you only have eyes for Viktor. He smiles, one of those rare smiles that only you can bring out of him, and you can see him relax, as if a massive weight has been lifted from his shoulders. With his fingers, he softly caresses the back of your hand, as if he needs to confirm that this is real, that you are finally one.

Heimerdinger approaches first, his tiny figure radiating paternal warmth. "Congratulations, my dear ones! This is a day that will go down in history not just for the union of two brilliant minds but for the union of two souls that have found a way to perfectly complement each other."

Viktor nods gratefully, his eyes still shining with emotion. "Thank you, professor. Your teachings have been a pillar in my life, and I am honored that you are here today."

Jayce also approaches, extending his hand to Viktor with a smile that is both happy and proud. "I never thought I'd see this day, Viktor. But I'm glad to be proven wrong. You're not just a great scientist; you're a great man. And you" —he turns to you— "are the reason we've seen him flourish this way. Thank you for that."

You take Jayce's hand with a smile, feeling the warmth of his sincerity. "It's been an incredible journey, and I know it's just the beginning."

The rest of the guests gradually approach, each offering their best wishes.

The reception continues with laughter, music, and dancing. Viktor, although not a great dancer, takes your hand and leads you to the dance floor, his movements clumsy but full of effort to please you. Every step he takes is a testament to his love, willing to step out of his comfort zone just to see you smile.

As the night progresses, you find a moment to escape with Viktor to a quieter corner of the terrace, from where you can see the lights of Piltover stretching like a blanket of stars at your feet. He wraps you in his arms, whispering softly against your ear.

"I promise to keep loving you, researching you, discovering new ways to make you happy every day of our lives together. You are my most valuable experiment and my most desired result."

You lean into him, gently touching his face with your hands, letting the warmth of his words seep into every corner of your being.

"And I promise to be your constant. In every formula, in every challenge, I will be by your side, always."

Both of you remain there, embraced, watching the horizon of Piltover, knowing that this is just the beginning of a life filled with love, science, and mutual discoveries.

The altar is an improvised structure made of twisted metal and recycled machinery parts, all painted in Jinx's favorite colors: electric blue and bubblegum pink. It's a small ceremony, attended only by close people. Vi is there, with her characteristic red hair and a smile trying to hide her emotion at seeing her little sister on this special day. Sevika, imposing as always, stands at the back, arms crossed, but her eyes betray a slight approving smile.

Jinx

The day has arrived, and, like everything related to Jinx, it is not a common day. The venue for the ceremony is as unpredictable as she is, an abandoned warehouse in the heart of the Undercity, transformed into a controlled chaos setting. The walls are covered in vibrant graffiti, some clearly Jinx's work, with explosions of blue and pink colors intertwining in chaotic yet beautiful patterns. Neon lamps flicker, casting intermittent lights that create an almost electric atmosphere. Explosives and sparks are part of the decoration, carefully placed to be part of the spectacle rather than a threat.

You stand at the altar, waiting for Jinx, your heart pounding. You're wearing a fitted suit, dark but with colorful details reflecting the madness you're about to embrace. Your tie, an electric blue, matches the sparkles on your shoes. Everything about your outfit has been thought out to be worthy of Jinx.

The music starts, a mix of electronic and punk rhythms that make the place vibrate. It's a unique composition, probably created by Jinx in one of her moments of inspiration. Silco, in an unusual but significant gesture, walks in with Jinx on his arm. His face remains impassive, but his eyes reflect a slight softness as he guides his adoptive daughter towards you. Isha walks behind them, holding a bouquet of black roses in her hands, her eyes looking at Jinx as always, with that mix of admiration and affection.

Jinx is radiant. Her dress is unconventional, a work of art out of the ordinary: a tight black leather corset with metal details and a skirt made of fabric strips in blue and pink, some torn, others decorated with small explosives and gears. Her hair, tied in two high pigtails, is adorned with small LED lights flashing in rhythm with her accelerated heartbeat. Her combat boots are the final statement that, even though it's her wedding, she's still the same Jinx.

When she sees Vi among the crowd, her gaze softens for a second. You know that, although she won’t say it out loud, having her sister there is a gift she deeply appreciates. It's that little glint of emotion in her eyes that makes you feel this is, without a doubt, the best day of her life.

As she reaches the altar, Silco leaves her by your side, whispering something in her ear before stepping aside. Jinx looks at you with a mix of nervousness and pure excitement, her dazzling smile like the neon lights flickering around her.

The ceremony is brief, but every word, every moment is charged with the energy that only Jinx could bring. When the time for the vows comes, Jinx pulls out a crumpled note from her pocket and, with a mischievous smile, reads:

"I promise not to blow you to pieces... too much. I promise you'll always be my accomplice in every explosion, in every madness, and in every laugh we make echo in this world. Because you are my favorite chaos, and there's no one I'd rather be in the middle of the disaster with than you."

The vows make you laugh and tear up at the same time, as the whole place seems to hold its breath for a second before bursting into applause and cheers when you both kiss amidst a fireworks display.

The party continues. Everything seems like a strange dream filled with bright lights, fireworks, and overflowing laughter. The event's hustle and bustle blend with the night's energy, but as you stand watching the whirlwind of people, your eyes settle on a distant corner. There, Jinx is talking to Vi. Both seem more relaxed, as if they could finally find some peace amidst the chaos surrounding them. The satisfaction you feel is profound; bringing the sisters together is the most significant gift you could give them, and seeing them together now, though discreetly, fills you with pride. You knew Jinx would value it more than she would ever say.

You find yourself talking to Sevika, who stays close, observing everything with her typical reserved attitude. She glances at you sideways and, without much verbosity, comments:

"Do you know what you're doing, right? Jinx isn't... easy to handle."

You chuckle softly, recognizing a mix of concern and disguised affection in her words. "Yeah, I know. But it's not about handling her, Sevika. It's about being with her."

Sevika slowly nods, her expression relaxing a bit. "You're braver than you look. I guess if anyone can do it, it's you."

With that, Sevika walks away, leaving you with a smile on your lips, knowing that, in her own brusque way, she has shown her approval.

A few moments later, Jinx approaches, her overflowing energy still present, but now more focused on you. "Come on, let's sneak away for a bit," she says, taking your hand and leading you to a quiet corner away from the hustle.

Once alone, you stand looking at her for a moment before softly asking, "Sweets, what did Silco whisper to you at the altar? It seemed important."

She remains silent for a moment, her gaze softening as she remembers. Finally, she responds, her voice lower than usual. "He told me... 'Remember who taught you to survive, but also who taught you to love. Make sure you never forget those parts of you.'"

Silco's words are profound, and they touch you in an unexpected way. You take Jinx's hand in yours, caressing it gently. "That's beautiful."

Jinx smiles, leaning in towards you, her lips about to touch yours. But just then, you hear a soft murmur. You both turn to see Isha approaching, her eyes shining with joy as she makes sounds reflecting her excitement.

Jinx laughs and leans in to hug the little one, relieved and happy for her presence. "Isha, where have you been?" she murmurs, stroking her hair affectionately. Then she looks at you and smiles. "Looks like someone didn’t want us to miss out on all the fun."

Isha clings to both of you, her affection evident, even though she can't express it in words. Jinx lifts her in her arms and gives you a look full of love and gratitude before you return together to the party.

Vi stood at the altar, her impeccably tailored black suit fitting perfectly, though she seemed slightly out of place among such opulence. Her eyes, however, lit up when she saw you enter the hall. You walked with natural elegance, your white silk wedding dress flowing gracefully with each step, the light veil delicately draping over your shoulders, framing your radiant face. Vi couldn’t take her eyes off you, as if the entire world had faded away at that moment.

Vi

The ceremony was in full swing, the hall adorned with imported flowers and soft lighting that wrapped everything in an almost magical halo. Every detail, from the centerpieces to the most delicate lace, had been carefully selected by your parents, wanting to ensure that your wedding would be a memorable event. The soft music filled the air, and the murmurs of the guests, mostly acquaintances of your family, mingled with the floral aroma.

When you reached her side, you took her hand, feeling the familiar touch, the anchor that always kept you grounded. The officiant began to speak about love, devotion, and the union of two souls. And then, the moment of the vows came.

Vi took a deep breath, her voice firm yet tinged with emotion. "I promise to love you every step of the way, to honor and protect you. To be your strength when you need it, and your refuge in storms. You are my light, my love, and the only place I always want to return to. Today and always, I choose you."

A lump formed in your throat, but you managed to smile, feeling every word resonate deep within you. You held her hand tighter and began your own vows. "From the moment our eyes met, I knew my life would change forever. I promise to be your partner, your unconditional support, and love you with every part of my being. In joy and in hardship, I will be by your side. I choose you today, tomorrow, and forever."

The rings were exchanged, sealing your eternal commitment. And when the officiant declared you united in marriage, Vi looked at you as if you were the only person in the universe. The kiss you shared was more than a mere union of lips; it was the promise of a life together, through good and bad.

After the ceremony, you began greeting the guests. The familiar faces of your parents smiled approvingly, but Vi couldn't help but feel a little overwhelmed. Despite the congratulations and well wishes, there was something in her gaze that worried you. Noticing her tension, you gently took her hand, guiding her to a balcony offering a respite from the crowd.

The night breeze caressed your faces as you leaned on the railing. From there, Seraphine’s voice could be heard in the distance, singing a melody that seemed to envelop the moment in serene calm. Vi sighed, her shoulders relaxing a bit, but her eyes still reflected a sadness she couldn't hide.

“What’s wrong, love?” you asked softly, caressing her cheek.

She looked at you with a mixture of love and melancholy. “It’s just that… this day is perfect, but I feel the absence of my family. My father, my sister… they should be here. They should be with me, with you. But they’re not, and that… it hurts.”

You immediately understood the depth of her pain. Vi had always been strong, but the wounds of her past were still there, reminding her of everything she had lost. You moved closer to her, wrapping your arms around her, trying to convey all the comfort you could.

"I know, baby," you said tenderly. "I know it hurts, and it’s natural to feel that sadness. Unfortunately, the actions of the past resonate in the present, you can’t change them but you can learn to live with them, to remember the positive and leave the pain behind. They may not be here physically, but they are in that great heart of yours, and that’s all that should matter, my beautiful and sweet wife," you said with a contagious smile.

Vi closed her eyes for a moment, letting your words sink deep into her. She hugged you tightly, as if she wanted to absorb all your warmth, all the strength you offered.

“Thank you,” she whispered against your ear. “Thank you for understanding me, for loving me like this, even with all my scars.”

You softly kissed her cheek. "This is until death, baby, literally."

Vi looked at you, her eyes reflecting a gratitude and love so deep it seemed almost overwhelming. “I love you,” she said firmly, as if those words were the only truth in the world.

“And I love you,” you responded, smiling.

Just then, the sky lit up with an explosion of unusual colors. Fireworks painted the sky with vibrant and unique tones, creating patterns that seemed almost impossible. Vi looked up, surprised at first, but then a soft smile appeared on her lips.

"Powder," she whispered with a touch of nostalgia and affection in her voice.

You held Vi closer, sharing that intimate moment, feeling Jinx's presence in every spark that lit up the sky.

Caitlyn looked radiant. Her dress was a reflection of her lineage and character. In the characteristic colors of her family, a deep blue with golden details representing her heritage, the dress cascaded in fine fabric, enhancing her figure with unparalleled elegance. Every step she took toward the altar seemed a declaration of love and strength, her eyes meeting yours with a mixture of nerves and devotion.

Caitlyn

The day of the wedding had arrived, bringing with it the perfect combination of the Kiramman family tradition and the simplicity you had always desired. After many conversations, a consensus had been reached that satisfied both sides. The ceremony venue, an elegant and serene garden, was adorned with the lavender flowers you had suggested, their fragrance gently enveloping the air, seemingly tailored for the love you shared with Caitlyn. At the same time, the decorations contained exquisite details that reflected Caitlyn's family legacy and status, achieving a balance between sophistication and intimacy.

Your dress, on the other hand, was simple yet beautiful, with details that perfectly complemented Caitlyn's grandeur without overshadowing it. The lavender details on the hem of your dress were a nod to your wishes, a small reminder of the peace and simplicity you wanted to bring to the life you were about to start together.

As the moment for vows arrived, the world seemed to stop. Caitlyn took your hands with gentle firmness, her eyes shining with an intensity that could only be love. Her voice, at first a whisper, grew stronger with each word.

"From the first moment I saw you, I knew there was something in you that would change my life. Working together, as leader and subordinate, I learned to admire your strength, your dedication, your passion for what is right. And today, I am here not just as your leader, but as your equal, as your partner. I promise to be your refuge in the storm, your support in difficult times, and the person who will always fight by your side for a better future."

It was hard to hold back tears as you spoke, your words coming from the depths of your heart.

"Cait, your logic, your strength, your unwavering sense of justice have inspired me every day. I promise to be by your side, not only as your life partner but as your companion in every challenge, in every victory, in every defeat. I promise to love you in the ordinary and the extraordinary, in the simple and the complex, until death do us part."

The ceremony culminated in a kiss that sealed not just your vows but also the promise of a shared future.

Later, while you were both enjoying a moment alone, Maddie approached. It was impossible not to roll your eyes at her impertinence; that little ginger had always shown interest in Caitlyn. You took a large sip from your glass, preparing for the tense moment you knew was coming.

"Congratulations, Caitlyn, truly a beautiful ceremony," Maddie said with a smile that, although seemingly friendly, had an undertone you didn’t miss. "And you too, you look... very happy."

Although Maddie's words were kind, her tone suggested something else. It was passive-aggressive. The barely concealed flirting toward Caitlyn made you feel a surge of jealousy, but you kept your composure. With a firm smile, you took Caitlyn's hand and intertwined your fingers with hers, making the bond you shared clear.

"How could I not be happy with a woman like this by my side? I can't believe she's mine now. My wife," you said, appreciating your partner’s divinity, your tone seemingly casual but loaded with warnings in big red letters. "Thank you, Maddie, we were very pleased you could attend," you added with a hypocritical smile.

Maddie seemed to get the message, and after a few awkward seconds, she bid farewell with a somewhat more forced smile. "Enjoy your night," she said before walking away.

"Was that necessary?" Caitlyn asked, raising an eyebrow, although her eyes showed a mix of amusement and reproach.

"I can't help it," you replied with a smile. "You're too irresistible. Besides, I don’t like gingers." Your comment made her chuckle softly.

The moment to throw the bouquet arrived. Standing together, you both tossed the bouquet back, and to everyone’s surprise, it landed in Jayce's hands. The bewilderment on his face was unmatched as his companion almost choked on her champagne. Caitlyn and you burst into laughter, a sound that echoed throughout the venue, filling the air with contagious joy.

The kiss that followed was the culmination of everything: love, commitment, and union. Everyone present looked at you with admiration, knowing they were witnessing a love that wasn’t seen every day.

As you walked down the aisle, all eyes were on you, but your gaze only sought Jayce, who waited at the end, standing beside the officiant, looking impeccable in his dark suit, his expression a mixture of emotion and admiration. When your eyes met his, all the tension vanished, leaving only the palpable love between you.

Jayce

The big day had arrived. The ceremony took place in a majestic hall in Piltover, with tall windows that allowed the evening light to stream in, bathing the space in a golden glow. The walls were adorned with elegant dark blue velvet curtains and chandeliers that cast a warm and welcoming light. The atmosphere was sophisticated, yet imbued with an intimate air that made every guest feel part of something special.

Upon reaching his side, Jayce gently took your hands in his, and the world seemed to stand still. The officiant began to speak, but the only thing that mattered was the moment you two shared your vows.

Jayce spoke first. He took a deep breath, his voice firm but filled with emotion, an emotion only you could awaken in him.

"Today, I give you not just my heart, but my mind, my doubts, my fears. I promise to always stand by your side, even on those days when everything seems uncertain. I promise that if the path ever becomes difficult, I will not abandon you. With you, I've learned that life isn't perfect, but the love we share is. And with every step we take together, I promise not only to love you but to be the best version of myself, for you, for us."

He looked at you tenderly as you absorbed his words, and then it was your turn. You smiled, and before speaking, you felt a torrent of emotions washing over you.

"I promise that in every challenge, in every little big obstacle, I'll remind you that we're not alone. We have each other. I don't have all the answers, and sometimes I'll be more human than you'd like, but I promise to always strive to be the best partner you could have. I promise that even when life gets overwhelming, I'll be the one to hold you up. I promise to see you, not just in your achievements, but in your doubts, in your insecurities, and to love you even more for them. I promise to keep growing with you, not just as a couple, but as individuals, always learning, always changing, but always coming back to each other."

You knew Jayce was holding back tears, so you didn't wait any longer and hugged him.

"It's okay, big baby, you can cry, no one will judge you. And if they do, that's what your wife is for, I'll eradicate them using some of your scientific gadgets," you promised, rubbing his back.

Jayce pulled back with reddened eyes, took your face, and kissed you once and for all. You knew people were clapping, you knew they were watching, but at that moment, you were lost in him.

The reception was equally unforgettable. The hall was decorated with warm lights that created a festive yet elegant atmosphere. Soft music filled the air as guests enjoyed the food and company.

The moment to cut the cake arrived with great anticipation. It was a masterpiece of several tiers, adorned with subtle, shimmering details.

With knife in hand, you and Jayce cut the first slice together, smiling. But in a moment of carelessness, the piece of cake slipped from your grasp, and just when it seemed it would hit the floor, Jayce caught it with quick reflexes. The hall was filled with exclamations of surprise.

Jayce stood there for a moment, unsure of what to do with the cake in his hand, but you stepped forward, amused, and without thinking twice, took a bite directly from his hand. Your nose got smeared with a bit of cream in the process, and Jayce, infected by your spontaneity, did the same, taking the cake to his mouth with the other hand.

Both of you laughed, and without caring about the cake still on your faces, you kissed, a mixture of tenderness and fun that drew applause and cheers from the guests.

The night continued with dancing and toasts to the newlywed couple.

An old warehouse that had been partially restored with recycled materials from the city itself. The walls were covered with makeshift canvases, some blank, others splattered with vibrant colors. In the background, music filled the air, rhythms that made the structures vibrate and resonated in the atmosphere, music created from a mix of Undercity instruments and Zaun's machine sounds. This wasn’t a place of ostentation, but one full of life and soul.

Ekko

Your wedding with Ekko wasn’t going to be like the others you had seen. It wasn’t a pompous ceremony, there were no long dresses or elaborate rituals. Instead, there was a feeling of community, of closeness, something that could only come from a place like Zaun. The event wasn’t held in a shiny hall, but in a space that Ekko had carefully chosen, a hidden corner between the broken structures of the city that, in his words, had been the "epicenter of it all."

The decor was the complete opposite of what you would expect from a traditional wedding. Lights hung disorderly from the ceiling, some glowing with the dim light of gas lamps, while others flickered like the stars that could barely be seen through the thick fog. The guests weren’t wearing expensive clothes or formal suits, but what reflected their identity: work-stained clothes, leather jackets, worn-out boots from the long walks around the city. But everyone, absolutely everyone, was smiling.

You, standing in front of Ekko, felt such a deep emotion that words seemed insufficient to describe what was happening. He wasn’t wearing a typical suit or a ceremonial outfit. Instead, he had created something unique for that day. His jacket was handmade from recycled materials, with colorful patches and mechanical details that seemed to have a life of their own, as if the very essence of Zaun was woven into his clothes. The watch he once showed you was now tied to his wrist, not as jewelry, but as a reminder of his love, of the time you had spent together.

Beside you, your outfit was equally unconventional. You had opted for something comfortable but full of details that spoke of who you were: a light linen dress with hints of metallic fabric that subtly shimmered, and sturdy boots that allowed you to move freely, with a light cape that fluttered in the breeze. You didn’t need anything more to feel like yourself.

The children ran around you, laughing and playing while you imitated them in an impromptu dance. Some took your hands, others watched you with curiosity, but all were filled with that energy that only the youngest could offer. Ekko watched you from the side, leaning against one of the old columns, his face full of pure admiration. His eyes sparkled with the reflection of the lights, but what mattered most was the emotion that coursed through him.

Finally, after a while of music and laughter, the ceremony reached its most awaited moment. Ekko approached you, his gaze fixed, and his heart clearly beating in his chest. The bustle around seemed to fade as you began to hear his voice.

"Today, we’re not here to follow the rules others impose on us," Ekko began, his tone deep and serious, but with that spark in his eyes that only you knew. "I won’t promise you that I’ll be perfect, because I know none of us are. But what I can promise you is that I’ll never stop moving forward by your side. That, no matter how the world keeps turning, I’ll always be looking for ways to stop time so we can enjoy every moment together." He paused, his eyes fixed on yours, seeking your reactions, your thoughts. "And if you ever feel like everything is falling apart, I want you to remember this: no matter how much time passes, no matter how many times we fall, I’ll always be with you. We’re going to make every second count."

You took a deep breath, feeling the warmth in your chest. Everything you had lived with Ekko had led you to this moment, and you didn’t need anything more to know that what he said was exactly what you felt.

Your turn came, and although you had no script, you knew exactly what you wanted to say. "In all this time, the only thing I’ve learned is that it doesn’t matter what future lies ahead, what matters is what we choose to do with it. And what I choose, Ekko, is to keep walking by your side. Because I don’t need anything more than you. I don’t care if everything changes, because what we have, this we’ve built, is what I want to keep forever. So yes, I’m staying with you, always."

The sound of applause resonated softly around you, but it didn’t matter because at that moment, only you and he existed. You both shared a smile, a look that said everything the heart couldn’t express. You didn’t need a ring, or a contract. Your love was your promise.

The party continued, the banquet began, and everyone gathered to share the food, laughter, and joy. Ekko and you toasted, raising glasses filled with a drink that tasted like life, like everything you had overcome and everything yet to come.

Finally, the night reached its climax. Ekko took your hand and, without saying a word, you both walked toward the exit, where your hoverboards awaited. You got on the floating platforms, and with a swift movement, you began to soar through the skies of Zaun. As you rose, the city of lights stretched beneath you, but the most beautiful thing was the moon shining above, large and serene.

In a secluded corner, where the stars seemed to touch the moon, Ekko stopped the hoverboard. The city appeared to sleep beneath the mist, and only the two of you remained, suspended in the air, floating in your own universe.

Without saying another word, you kissed. A kiss that tasted like a happily ever after.

"Together, always," you murmured, and Ekko, with a calm smile, replied: "Always."

You, standing at the makeshift altar, felt a mixture of nerves and serenity. The dress you wore was a deep black, the same color Silco wore. The design was custom-made, a corset that accentuated your figure and a long skirt that fell gently to the ground, with dark lace details playing with the shadows of the flowers. Jinx had left her personal touch on you: a small touch of fluorescent green paint at the edge of your dress, almost invisible at first glance, but enough for you to remember her presence when you looked at it.

Silco

The wedding ceremony between you and Silco was everything one might expect from such an imposing, calculating man, yet so deeply different when it came to his most profound feelings. The light in the greenhouse was dim, filtered through the leaves of the rare flowers that wound around the metal structures. The air was thick with a sweet, fresh scent, as if the space had been designed not only to house plants but to keep secrets, to conceal moments that escaped the outside world.

Silco, as was his custom, made no extravagance. His perfectly tailored black suit seemed almost made of shadow, as if his presence filled the space around him. His jacket was closed, but the high collar and the lines of the design denoted power and elegance, alongside his character of absolute control. Despite his impassive face, there was something in his gaze that softened when he looked at you, as if he had finally allowed himself to be vulnerable before you, even if only for a brief moment.

The only witnesses were Sevika and Jinx, who remained silent, watching from a corner of the greenhouse, though Jinx couldn’t help but murmur something under her breath, always so enthusiastic, always so unpredictable. The ceremony was brief, without flourish, as if both of you knew that no grand words were necessary to seal what you felt. The moment was perfect in its simplicity.

When Silco began to speak, his voice was low, deep, but filled with a sincerity he rarely allowed himself to show. "You know what we are, what we have been. You know what I’ve done for this world, for my people... but you also know I can't go on without you. I don’t want to." His gaze fixed on you, so steady, so sure, as if this was the exact moment everything he had done until now made sense. "I don’t offer you a life without risks, without pain... but I offer you all that I am, all that I can give. And I ask that you be mine, not just now, but forever."

Your words came out with the same intensity, though the softness of your tone showed how much you loved him. "I don’t want a future without you, Silco. I don’t care what comes, as long as I’m with you. Everything I’ve lived has led me to this moment, and here, with you, I feel complete. I don’t want to go anywhere without you. I love you."

Before you could say more, Silco took a step toward you and, with an unexpected delicacy, kissed you. The air around seemed to dissolve as the world, the chaos, the city itself faded away. In that moment, only he and you existed.

Just as the kiss ended, Jinx's loud laughter echoed through the greenhouse, followed by a strong "Ugh!" that interrupted the solemn silence. Sevika rolled her eyes, and you could only smile, knowing that Jinx was part of this world, a world you accepted with all its imperfections. The ceremony hadn’t ended, but the atmosphere felt lighter than ever.

After the ceremony, Silco took you to a private area of the greenhouse where the two of you could speak quietly. The tension in the room seemed to relax, but not for long. Soon, the sound of a fight reached your ears. Jinx and Sevika were arguing. Sevika, visibly upset, was complaining that Jinx had thrown something green at her, probably one of her "explosive things."

Silco, who usually ignored these altercations, stayed in his place, but you couldn’t just sit idly by. You stood up with determination, and with a firmness that even surprised Silco, you walked over to Jinx.

"Jinx," you said, your tone firm but not cruel. "That wasn’t funny. Don’t you know there are limits? If you don’t respect Sevika, you’re disrespecting everyone here."

Jinx, at first surprised, lowered her head, clearly understanding you had touched a sensitive nerve. In that moment, something changed in her. Without offering a single excuse, she looked at Sevika with an expression that was rarely seen on her, and said, albeit grudgingly:

"I guess I’m sorry," Jinx rolled her eyes and crossed her arms.

Jinx’s attitude surprised everyone, especially Silco, who watched with a slight smile on his lips. Though he knew what that gesture meant, he couldn’t help but notice that, for the first time, Jinx was willing to be disciplined for something greater than herself.

Without wasting any time, you took Jinx’s hand and guided her to a nearby table where there was a chocolate cake, the one you had chosen because you knew she loved it. As you sat her down, your tone softened.

"What you did wasn’t okay, but we all make mistakes. Come, let’s eat this cake, alright? It’ll be our way of leaving it behind."

You looked at her, trying to ease the tension, and she, despite her mischievous nature, accepted with good grace, lost in the chocolate. Silco approached afterward, seeing how the two of you shared a calm moment, and let out a small laugh.

"You’re going to be a good mother," he said with a tone that, though almost dry, didn’t go unnoticed. The phrase left you in shock. The idea of being a mother had never crossed your mind in that context, especially with someone as complicated as Silco.

Before you could respond, Jinx, with her mouth full of cake, turned to Silco and, with all her innocence, said:

"Yes, I want a kid! One to teach him how to make explosives or something fun!"

Silco’s laughter was genuine, and though the situation was absurd, it was the kind of moment that felt perfect. Jinx, as always, without a filter, but with a pure heart in her madness.

Suddenly, Jinx didn’t stop, looking at Silco with intensity.

"Old man, when are you going to make that kid? I already have plans for us!"

Silco raised an eyebrow, clearly bewildered but, in his own way, entertained. "Yeah, sure, we’ll talk about that later," he said, as he moved to his next suggestion. "Why don’t you go accompany Sevika for now?"

Without thinking twice, Jinx quickly got up, hopping over to where Sevika was, no doubt ready to continue her mission of annoying her.

In that moment, you approached Silco, your gaze fixed on him. The question you had been holding in your heart came out in a whisper:

"Is it true what you said? Do you really think I’d be a good mother?"

The silence between the two of you was brief, but enough for him to take your hand gently, as if he didn’t want to break the magic of the moment.

"I know. You have everything it takes to do it. I just trust you."

The intensity of his gaze was all you needed to feel that, beyond the shadows both of you inhabited, there was a light. And that light was the love you shared, the promise of a future together.

In that moment, the greenhouse seemed to disappear, and only the two of you remained, surrounded by a future that no longer seemed so uncertain.

Mel

The hall glowed with a golden light, reflected in the intricate decorations that combined the opulence of Piltover with a personal and intimate touch. At the center, surrounded by a delicate crown of white and gold flowers, the portrait Mel had painted of you presided over the ceremony, a silent witness to your love.

Mel was radiant, wearing a black dress that hugged her body in clean, modern lines, with asymmetrical cuts that elegantly revealed glimpses of skin. The edges of the dress were finely outlined in gold, a nod to her lineage. Her makeup was subtle yet impeccable, with golden shadows that accentuated her dark eyes, and her hair, gathered in a high bun, was adorned with small golden pearls.

You wore a deep sapphire blue dress, with an elegant design that contrasted with the delicate opulence of the ceremony. Your accessories were simple, reflection of your individuality, fit perfectly with the aura of confidence you exuded.

When the time for the vows arrived, Mel took your hands and looked at you with an intensity that seemed to stop time. Her voice, low but firm, resonated with a sincerity that made everyone present hold their breath.

"With you, I have learned that control is not the only form of power. You have shown me that there is strength in surrender, and beauty in imperfection. I no longer want to live a life of rules and expectations; I want a life with you, full of adventures, challenges, and above all, love."

She paused, squeezing your hands slightly before continuing.

"I promise that I will never stop finding new ways to love you. Because with you, I have found something more valuable than anything I could ever possess: I have found the true meaning of freedom."

The emotion in her words made your eyes soften with love, but you held firm, knowing it was your turn.

"Mel, since I met you, I knew your soul shone with a light that no one else could match. You taught me that even in the midst of luxury and opulence, one can find humility and depth. With you, I have learned that love is the greatest adventure of all. I promise to stand by your side, not just in the easy days, but in the darkest ones, when the pressure of the world becomes unbearable. I will be your support, your confidant, and the person who will always remind you that you are more than enough."

The vows ended, but the silence that followed was charged with emotion. Mel leaned towards you, whispering only for you to hear:

"With you, I have found the only jewel that truly matters."

A smile of love crossed your face before you kissed her full lips.

As the guests toasted and immersed themselves in conversations, you felt Ambessa Medarda's gaze on you. The powerful matriarch approached with her imposing presence, each step radiating authority. She took advantage of the moment when Mel was speaking with an important politician. You mentally prepared yourself, knowing that any interaction with her required tact and firmness.

"I must admit, I didn't expect someone like you to capture my daughter's attention in this way," Ambessa began, with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. "But Mel has always had a knack for seeing beyond appearances."

Her tone was sharp, like a carefully sheathed knife, ready to cut if the opportunity arose. However, you kept your composure, returning her gaze without blinking.

"Mel has seen something in me that perhaps others fail to understand," you responded calmly. "And I am grateful that, despite everything, she trusts what we have built together."

Ambessa raised an eyebrow, intrigued by your response, but before she could continue, you added: "And I know that, although our differences may seem vast, we both want the best for Mel. That will always be my priority."

For a brief moment, Ambessa's cold facade seemed to crack. She nodded slightly, acknowledging your strength and determination, before turning and walking away, leaving in the air a hint of hard-earned respect.

The music shifted to a slower rhythm, and Mel, with a gentle smile, extended her hand to you. "Shall we dance?" she asked, her voice a whisper only you could hear.

You accepted, letting her guide you to the center of the floor. All eyes were on you both, but at that moment, only the two of you existed. Mel wrapped her arms around you, her movements fluid and graceful. The warmth of her body, the softness of her touch, completely enveloped you.

The music seemed to weave a spell around you. Each step, each turn, was a non-verbal declaration of love, a choreography of synchronized hearts. At one point, Mel drew you even closer, her lips brushing your ear as she whispered: "You make all of this make sense. With every step, I feel my life takes on a new meaning. I am so happy."

Your lips curved into a smile, and your response was a simple, yet emotionally charged, "That will always be my goal." You kissed the tip of her nose with a tenderness impossible not to envy.

After the dance, you both retreated to a room to share a moment of tranquility away from curious eyes.

Suddenly, an idea crossed her mind, and with a mischievous smile, she proposed: "What do you think about doing something completely ours, away from all of this?"

Surprised, but intrigued, you asked: "What do you have in mind?"

Mel winked at you. "Something spontaneous. Tomorrow early, let's escape together. Let Piltover take a break from us while we lose ourselves in the unknown. A day just for us, without titles or expectations."

The plan seemed reckless, but also perfect. This wasn’t typical of Mel, which intrigued you even more to see this new side of her. You nodded, feeling a new wave of excitement. "I love the idea. Let’s do it."

The location was a small corner of Zaun, a place that had often served as a refuge for both of you after difficult nights. The walls, covered with moss and vines, gave a sense of intimacy that only this place could offer. There were no flowers or extravagant decorations, only the soft light from a few lamps that you had brought, just enough to illuminate your faces.

Sevika

The ceremony was simple, almost improvised, but not any less meaningful. Sevika and you had decided to keep it a secret, just the two of you and the person who officiated the ceremony, someone who knew well the value of discretion.

Sevika wore a simple black shirt, with the sleeves rolled up, revealing her mechanical arm, as if there was nothing to hide, as if that arm was just another part of who she was.

On the other hand, you wore a red princess-cut dress, an unusual choice, but one you made to mark the importance of the day. The skirt was wide and flowing, but you opted for sturdy boots instead of the traditional heels, a practical reminder that you were always ready for any eventuality. Around your neck, a black silk scarf hung gracefully, adding a touch of sophistication, but also a hidden utility that only you knew about.

The person who officiated the ceremony stayed in the background, allowing both of you to take control of the moment. There were no scripts or elaborate promises, just sincere words, the ones that truly mattered.

Sevika took your hand in hers, her grip firm yet gentle, and when she spoke, it was in a low, deep voice that seemed to resonate in the space around you.

“I’m not good with words,” she began, her eyes fixed on yours, “but I know what I want. And what I want is for you to be by my side, today and always.”

There were no embellishments in her words, but each one carried a weight that you felt deeply. It was her way of saying she loved you, even though she never put it into so many words. It was Sevika, in her purest form, without filters, without masks.

When it was your turn, you took a deep breath, trying to find the right words, though you knew there was no need for perfection in that moment.

“I know we never planned this, but what I feel for you doesn’t need plans,” you said, your voice trembling slightly but filled with emotion. “I want to be with you, Sevika. Through all the battles, through every moment of calm, I want us to keep being us, facing whatever comes, together.”

The silence that followed was brief but significant, a moment in which both of you processed what you had just said, what you had just promised.

The person who married you barely whispered the necessary words to seal your union. There were no grand speeches, no tears, just a mutual understanding, an unspoken agreement that this was the right thing.

When everything was over, Sevika leaned toward you and, with a barely visible smile on her lips, whispered:

“See? We didn’t even need a ring to make this real.”

But before you could complain, she pulled out a small box from her pocket, and from it, a dark metal ring with a large diamond in it, fitting perfectly on your finger.

You admired it with emotion, Sevika knew about your obsession with jewelry, especially when they looked so exotic and expensive.

“I promised, didn’t I? I told you it would be a diamond,” she said, and this time, you couldn’t help but smile widely.

The kiss that followed was a fiery whirlwind, nothing calm or passive. You two were fire. Impossible magnets to separate once united.

As you pulled apart, Sevika looked at you with a seriousness you knew well. “Silco is waiting for us. It’s not the best time, I know, but we have to go.”

You nodded, understanding the urgency. It wasn’t unusual for missions to arise at the most inconvenient times, and this time would be no different.

Sevika adjusted the strap on her mechanical arm, quickly checking to make sure everything was in place.

Sevika looked you up and down and smiled slightly. “You’re going to break more than a few bones today, doll. Those idiots will drool over you, over my wife.”

You almost groaned when she called you her wife; it felt so good to know you belonged completely to her.

“You’ll drool over me later, I’ll make sure of that,” you replied with a playful smile, while adjusting your scarf.

“That remains to be seen,” she murmured, before offering you her normal arm. “Let’s go.”

The night enveloped you as you headed toward the place Silco had indicated. The city was dark, and the air was thick with a tension that could only presage trouble. But that was your life, and in a way, that constant state of alertness was what kept you both alive.

The mission took you to the outskirts, to one of the most dangerous areas controlled by Silco’s enemies. The information was vague, but enough to know you were up against an armed group that wouldn’t surrender easily.

Upon arrival, you found yourselves in an ambush. Enemies emerged from the shadows, armed and ready to attack. Sevika reacted with the speed of a predator, her mechanical arm glinting in the dim light as she blocked the first attack. You, for your part, pulled out a small device from your scarf, a clever invention of yours that released a dense cloud of smoke, disorienting your attackers.

The battle was fierce. Sevika fought with a mix of brute strength and precision, using her mechanical arm to clear a path through the enemies. You moved with agility, seizing every opportunity to disarm opponents with quick and precise movements. It was like you were dancing a deadly choreography, each of you complementing the other perfectly.

At one point, one of the attackers managed to corner you, his knife gleaming in the dim light as he lunged toward you. But before he could reach you, Sevika appeared out of nowhere, grabbing him and slamming him to the ground with a force that knocked him unconscious instantly.

“Are you okay, doll?” she asked, her deep voice full of concern.

“Yes, thanks to you,” you replied, out of breath but determined.

The fight ended shortly after, leaving both sides exhausted but intact. The mission was complete, and once again, you had survived together.

Sevika looked at you with a mix of admiration and relief. “You never stop surprising me,” she murmured, before lifting you in her arms, a combination of strength and tenderness that made you feel safe even in that hostile environment.

“I should say the same about you. Come on, take me home, my big and strong wife,” you replied, resting your head on her shoulder as she carried you out of harm’s way.

The contrast between the battle you had just fought and the sweetness of the moment couldn’t have been more perfect. There, in Sevika’s arms, with your red dress stained but intact, you felt that everything was perfect.

[alg3a]

hellooo your smuts brought me back from the grave and if you’re taking any requests, i would love to see your take on a jayce x fem reader. i kind of want to see a shy student scenario with a pervy student jayce 😩 omg pls tell me you see the vision lol!

hello! YESSS i definitely see the vision, i hope i executed it alright! thank you so much for this request. i was sort of worried at first because i don’t typically write for jayce alone—normally i just write jayvik or viktor—but this was SOOOO much fun! probably actually my favorite of the three fics i have so far. hope you enjoy!

staring

pervy!jayce x innocent!f!reader

3.9k, MDNI, no use of y/n

description: After setting eyes on the handsome boy in your lecture, and staring at him every class after that, you find out that your father has sponsored his research and invited him to dinner. After a particularly frustrating meal, you run upstairs to your room, not expecting him to follow you.

warnings: nsfw, fem receiving oral, pervy jayce, innocent/inexperienced reader, sneaky sex, equal bits plot and porn i think, jayce covers readers mouth, creampie, hooray!

a/n: this is my first ever request! i hope i did it some justice. if you like it, feel free to send your own request! i don’t have guidelines yet, but chances are i’ll writer whatever you suggest.

The first time you saw him was across the circular lecture hall and you were quickly drawn in, fixated on every tiny movement of his. You didn’t even notice that you were staring until you realized he caught you. It was near impossible not to look at him, with his wide ambitious eyes and even wider shoulders, he was a difficult sight to steer away from. That didn’t make it any less embarrassing when he noticed your lingering gaze.

The position he caught you in was so juvenile and schoolgirl-esque that it seemed only fitting for a bright pink blush to span your face. You had a palm against your cheek, your head slightly tilted, and your bottom lip was caught between your front teeth. Your right leg crossed your leg and the suspended foot swung in tiny little distracted circles below your desk.

When his eyes landed on yours, his eyebrows furrowed a bit. Not out of anger, more like he was trying to focus his gaze on you to see whether or not you were really staring at him. Then a little smile crept onto his lips around the same time you had realized that he had caught you and you instantly averted your gaze. You tried not to look at him again during lecture, but whenever the professor in the center of the circular lecture hall crossed in front of him, your eyes stayed behind and you allowed yourself a glance in his direction.

You wondered how you hadn’t noticed him before. Perhaps this was the first time he sat in that spot so far this semester. If that was the case, it certainly wasn’t the last time he sat there. For the next few weeks, he was amongst the first students to arrive in lecture and always made sure to secure that exact same seat, not one to the left, right, or above. You’d never seen anybody be so particular about a seat in lecture before. Not even you, who had a penchant for patterns and regulation.

Each passing class only stoked your burning obsession with this boy, whose name you didn’t even know. It got so bad that you had difficulty paying attention in class some days, which was totally unlike you. You were a perfect student, always dedicated and responsible in school, so why now? Why this one pretty boy in one silly lecture?

Your father wasn’t happy when you let him know you received a C on your midterm.

You came from an upper house in Piltover and you were your parents’ only daughter. There was an absurd amount of pressure on you to uphold the standards so eloquently listed by your older siblings and your parents.

“How will it affect your class grade?” Your mother asks sensibly, her voice low and polite and she sets out her favorite dishes from the china cabinet.

“Well, it’s not good,” you begin to say, ready to explain how what really matters is your final project and the final assessment, how they’re weighted more heavily, but your father interrupts.

“Not good?” He chortles, spread out in his armchair the room over. “Abhorrent is more like it!”

“Dad,” you begin to plead, but you are once again interrupted.

“Enough! I’ll look into a tutor and you will spend your time studying and asking your professor for extra credit.”

You hated when he did this. You weren’t a kid anymore, if you wanted a tutor you’d ask a classmate or a TA, and you had read your syllabus enough to know that your professor didn’t afford extra credit to his students. You were perfectly capable of taking care of yourself in school…or at least that’s what you thought. After all, if a silly crush on a stranger in lecture was enough to tank your grades, were you really all that capable?

You could’ve argued with your dad, but decided against it. It was almost time for dinner and you didn’t want to ruin your appetite with a fight.

“Go get dressed, dear, we’re having a guest for dinner tonight,” your mother said, changing the tone of the conversation.

“Who?” You asked, realizing that she was taking the good china out for a reason.

“One of the students that your father has decided to sponsor.”

Oh, that’s right. The academy just had their Innovation Gala, in which the young inventors of Piltover are given the opportunity to wow rich folks with their ideas in hopes of receiving some funding. Your father had been extending his fortune to students since you were very young. He saw them more as business opportunities than as students.

“Well, who are they?”

“A bright young man,” your father said, his mood instantly lightening. “Lots of promise. A grade or two above you, I believe.”

You think of the inventors you’ve met at the academy as you go upstairs to your bedroom to change, wondering who the guest will be.

You slip into a knee-length powder blue dress and a soft white sweater. You’re brushing your hair when you hear the doorbell ring from downstairs. Muffled exchanges between your parents and the mystery guest pass through your closed bedroom door. You’re applying your lipgloss and staring into your vanity when your mind begins to wander. You can’t get your mind off of the boy from lecture. Would he like this shade of lipgloss? Would he like your dress, your sweater, your shoes, your hair…

Your father shouts your name from downstairs. “Come down, it’s time for dinner!”

You sheath your lipgloss and straighten out your dress before heading downstairs. You're halfway down the spiral staircase before you can see tonight’s guest, and when you do, you aren’t sure you have enough strength in your legs to keep walking down.

He calls your name again, this time wearing a smile on his mouth. Your father had a tendency to turn into a jovial old man when around people that weren’t you or your family.

“Come, meet Jayce,” he says, his arm wrapped around the boy from your lecture.

You only realize how hard you're gripping the railing once you reach the bottom of the stairs. You force a polite smile past your agape expression and walk toward your father and the boy. Your father is by no means a short man, but the boy towers over him. It’s impossible not to pay attention to how his dress shirt clings to his chest, or how the collar wraps neatly around his strong neck, leaving a glimpse of his bobbing Adam’s apple.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” you hold out your hand and he takes it, gingerly. He brings it to his lips, kissing the back of it softly as his eyes remain on yours.

“The pleasure is all mine,” he says, shooting a flaming arrow straight through your thudding heart. “Correct me if I’m mistaken, but we have a class together, don’t we?”

Wonderful. Not only would you have to play polite with this handsome stranger, you’d have to endure the rest of the night knowing he’d caught you staring at him with bright doe eyes in the middle of class. How ironic that the boy responsible for your sinking grades would be seated beside your father tonight at dinner.

“Oh, I think you’re right,” you smile, eyes widening in feigned surprise. “Applied physics?”

“Yes, that’s the one,” he says, finally releasing your hand just as it’s about to get clammy from your excitement and anxiety. He claps your father on the back. “Your daughter is a marvel in that class, really. She’s constantly answering questions and asking even more insightful ones.”

A lie? Why?

“Is that so?” Your father asks, seemingly forgetting his prior rage at your subpar grade.

Jayce nods as your father leads you all to the dining room, where your two older brothers are already sitting. Your father takes his seat at the head of the table, your mother at the opposite end. You sit between him and Jayce, across from your brothers.

For a while, Jayce spends some time introducing himself to the two boys across from you, entertaining their small talk and questions about whatever invention sparked our father’s interest at the gala. You couldn’t focus much on the details, too distracted by the fact that your lecture crush was seated beside you in your own home, at the dinner table you’ve been eating at for twenty years. He spoke so eloquently, so politely that you thought for a second that he might have overlooked your embarrassing moment in lecture so many days ago. Perhaps it hadn’t lived in his head the same way it had haunted you.

The maids brought out the food and you began to eat. You sipped on champagne and did your best to avert your gaze from Jayce, but he got in the way of that attempt.

“So tell me,” he said, turning his attention to you, “how do you like physics?”

How did you like physics? What sort of a question was that?

“It’s a good class,” you say, simply. “I like the professor’s lecture style, it’s very…personal. I detest professors who just read from the notes and expect it to resonate.”

“Right, I’ve noticed how closely you pay attention in that class.”

It takes every ounce of self-collection you have not to choke on your champagne. Was he teasing you? Was that his way of secretly calling you out for ogling at him for every minute of the hour-long lecture?

No, you must be paranoid. Maybe he really meant it, after all he had already oversold your attentiveness in that class once tonight.

“Yes, right.”

“Truly,” he says, and you risk looking over at him beside you. “You look so enamored. If I didn’t know better I’d think you were daydreaming…lost in fantasies.”

You set your glass down with a slam.

“Mind your manners, darling,” your mother says as you collect your thoughts.

“Sorry,” you say shakily, dabbing at the splattered drink on the tablecloth with your napkin.

You hurry to finish your meal as your father changes the subject, discussing some stupid business matter of his. You can’t hear anything over the pounding of your heart in its cage. Once your dish is empty, you set your utensils down and look pointedly at your father.

“May I be excused?”

“Sweetheart, don’t be rude,” he says, his eyebrows straightening into a firm line. “We have a guest.”

“Oh, I know, I’m sorry. It’s just that…I have an assignment to work on and I really don’t want my grades to slip any further.” You lie, avoiding Jayce’s eyes, although you feel them boring into the back of your head as you look at your father.

“Very well,” he says, with a wave of his hand. “You may be excused.”

You slam your napkin on the table and walk hurriedly up the stairs. You shut your door with a slam louder than you meant, but you can’t concern yourself with that now. You lay face down in your four-post bed and throw the sweater off of your arms before screaming into a pillow.

Cruel! He was just being cruel. If your staring in class hadn’t made your crush obvious, surely your behavior tonight had sold you out. Stupid, stupid, stupid! You groan out into the pillow before a slight creak of your door snaps you out of your fit.

You turn over, expecting to see your father and already thinking of ways to explain your current exasperated position, but it’s not him.

“What are you doing in my room?” You ask, coming to a seated position with your legs bent ever so slightly atop your ivory comforter.

“You mean, this isn’t the restroom?” Jayce asks, a small smirk on his mouth as he walks slowly toward you like a predator about to pounce. “I guess I didn’t follow your mother’s directions very well.”

“What are you doing?” You ask again.

He laughs and shrugs his shoulders. “Cute room.” He looks around for a moment before his gaze falls back on you, lying so delicately on your bed, just waiting… “Pretty close to what I imagined.”

“What you imagined?” You repeat, seemingly only able to ask questions right now.

“Mhm,” he says, finally reaching the edge of your bed. He stands over you, looming like a tower, preventing any light from reaching you. “Can you blame me? I’ve seen how you look at me during lectures.” He pauses to laugh. “You’d think I was the one lecturing the way you stare, and stare, and stare…”

“That’s not–” you try to defend yourself, but you can’t. You have no reason, no explanation, no excuse. No words.

“I don’t mind,” he says, his smile widening. “It’s cute. The way you cross and uncross your legs when I catch you looking. Oh but before that, when you’re resting your cheek on your hand and tilting your pretty little head… that’s the best.”

You look at him like he’s insane, and part of you thinks he actually might be. But the other part…

“Tell me,” he says, his knee resting on the edge of the bed, positioned for him to climb onto it if only you would just give the word. “What do you think about when you’re staring at me?”

“Jayce…” you mutter breathlessly, unsure whether or not you should say.

He leans over your sprawled out body and puts a delicate finger beneath your chin.

“You can tell me,” he smiles, his eyes betraying his true desire. “Chances are, I’ve had the same ideas.”

“I’ve,” you utter, barely able to get the words out as he pushes your head up ever so slightly, forcing you to make clearer eye contact with him. “I’ve thought about…”

Thinking those thoughts is one thing, but saying them out loud is completely different. It’s impossible.

“Use your words, honey,” he says, stroking your bottom lips with the calloused pad of his thumb, as if he were trying to coax the dirty words out.

“About laying on your table…in the empty lecture hall…”

“And?”

“And you’d…” you sigh, exasperated. Somehow trying to utter this sentence took more out of you than running a mile would. “You’d have your head…between my thighs.”

“Would I be tasting you, sweetheart?” He asks, a grin spreading across his face, revealing sharp canines. A new thought crept into your mind. What would those teeth feel like dragging your panties off? What would they feel like biting your thigh, or your neck?

“Yes,” you whisper, embarrassed of your own admission, although he pried it from your pretty, glossy pink lips. “Yes you’d be tasting me…”

“Attagirl,” he says, removing his hand from your chin and his knee from your bed.

For a moment, you aren’t sure what he’s going to do. Would he take this admission and run out of your room with it? Would he tell your parents? Would he tell his friends? Would you go to school the next day, the laughing stock of the academy?

He drops to his knees.

Your breath halts as his hands land on your knees, his eyes gazing up at you over the crest of the side of your mattress. His calloused palms rub the soft skin of your thighs, upward bound.

“Jayce?” You ask, knots in your stomach.

“I was right,” he says, the path his hands taking never ceasing. “We have had the same idea.”

He pushes up the fabric of your powder blue dress, pulling you slightly off of the bed so that his lips can find the inside of your thighs. He leaves soft kisses along them.

You watch as his hungry amber eyes flicker up, landing on your soft pink panties.

“Fuck,” he mutters against the plush skin of your thigh.

He pushes your thighs apart and pulls you closer by your hips. His nose presses against the wet spot on your panties and he takes a deep, slow breath. You watch as his eyes flicker shut, relishing the scent of you so close to him. The sight only makes you wetter.

“God, you smell so fucking good,” he groans. He flicks his tongue out and licks the fabric of your panties, leaving a damp spot. You twitch against the wet sensation, your thighs closing a bit but his hands are faster. He holds them down as he continues to tease you through the fabric.

“Jayce…” you begin to start your reprimand, ready to tell him to stop teasing you and just dive in, to eat you out like he’s starving, but you can’t utter any word other than, “please.”

“Please what, baby?” He asks, looking up with that wicked grin of his. “Use your words, remember?”

“Please…please taste me…”

You feel utterly deprecated just saying such dirty things to a man you only just officially met, but if the fantasies in your head were worth anything, you two were intimately acquainted by now. And to Jayce…well those fantasies seemed to be worth a lot.

“Since you asked so nicely,” he says, his hands sliding up your thighs to pull down the fabric separating his tongue from your pleasure. He’s quick to push your thighs back down again, regaining his control of your trembling body.

He makes sure he’s watching you when he administers his first slow, tantalizing lick. His eyes are hooded and hungry, and his hunger translates well.

“Oh my god…” you whimper as he tastes you.

He picks up speed, his tongue slicing through your folds and spending lots of time at your quivering clit. He licks and sucks and slobbers like he hasn’t had a meal in years, which you know to not be true. Such an appetite.

“Jayce,” you whimper, pleading, begging, but for what you do not know.

He moans against your clit as you say his name, the precious sound of your debased voice striking a delicate chord within him. The vibration of his moan against your core makes your back arch, and his eyes dart back up to you, to watch you suffer under his pleasure.

“I think–I think I’m close,” you whisper, breathlessly as your hands grab at the sheets above your head. You look so pretty, stretched out and suspended like that, your arms hanging above your head and your legs thrown out on either side of Jayce’s blur of dark hair and sharp features.

“Let it out, sweetheart,” Jayce muffles against you, his assault on your quivering clit not letting up one bit. “Let me hear it.”

You whine and squeal and thrash against his face, his hands squeezing hard to keep your thighs down so he can continue his job. You reach for his hair, just to have something solid to grab onto in your ecstasy, and he moans at the rough tug, the vibrations topping off your climax as your arched back grounds itself against your sheets again, descending alongside you.

He’s still hungry, and he hardly allows you any time to recover from your first orgasm, something you didn’t experience very often, especially not from the mouth of a man. Already, he’s climbing atop you, unbuttoning his pants and pushing them down to reveal his long, fully hardened cock. You reach out with unsteady fingers to unbutton his fancy dress shirt, admiring the way it’s already gathered wrinkles from his rowdy behavior between your legs.

Now you’re equally dishevelled. Your lip gloss has been rubbed off by your hungry bites at your lip and his mouth shines with your arousal and his own spit. Your dress is polled up over your hips and his own shirt barely clings to his arms in its unbuttoned state. Your hair pools out beneath you and his still bears the marks of your tugging.

It’s heaven for Jayce to see you like this. He’s spent weeks admiring the prim and proper put together little rich girl across the lecture hall, imagining what she would look like fucked out beneath him, screaming his name and abandoning all manners. He wants to ruin you, and he will.

His lips crash against yours, your arousal and his spit providing you with new lip gloss. His tongue betrays his hunger, crashing against yours, pushing it aside as he explores each corner of your little mouth. All the while, his hands are creeping up your soft stomach and resting on your breasts beneath his heavy, muscled torso.

“Jayce, I want you…I want you inside me,” you mutter, gaining some boldness at the sight of his craving.

He doesn’t even have the strength to muster a reply. He intends on saving all of his energy for destroying your cute little cunt. He grabs his cock, pumping it a few times to spill out the precum resting on his tip. He aligns it with your tight entrance and spreads your arousal over it to provide aid in jamming it into you.

“Fuck!” You shout into his broad shoulder. “Oh fuck!”

He didn’t expect such naughty words to rip from your innocent little throat, but he delights in your reaction to him stretching you.

He rocks his hips in and out of you, slowly at first, but even he can’t hold himself back just for the sake of torturing you. He ruts into you, pathetic, needy. His body presses down onto you, your chest smushed against his as he leans on his forearm beside your head. He groans out at each desperate thrust into your tight cunt.

You’re no better. Your legs are wrapped around his waist, pulling him ever closer and deeper into you. Each kiss of his tip to your cervix elicits a loud whine from you, echoing through your room. Your ornate decorations and pristine shelves now act as a shallow veneer. You’re not so clean anymore. Not so innocent.

“Oh Jayce,” you moan breathily. “Just like that! Oh fuck!”

You’re a mess beneath him, muttering slutty little words that rise and fall in volume as his thrusts punctuate them. Jayce is so lost in pleasure that it takes him a minute to realize that your volume has become an issue.

He brings a hand over your mouth, the other arm still acting as support as he rests on his forearm. You taste the salt of his skin on his palm as he presses it to your soft lips.

“You make such pretty noises for me,” Jayce says softly, a groan interrupting his syllables every so often. “And you sound so good but you gotta be quiet, baby.”

Despite his words, his thrusts don’t soften and his grip on your mouth remains. Your moans continue, quietly, muffled against his strong hand. To prevent himself from moaning too loud, he bites down on your shoulder. Hard. It’s enough to send you over the edge, the pain rippling through your skin and down to your core.

You can tell he’s close too, by the way his bite hardens and his hips jut mercilessly into you. Your legs begin to tremble and you tilt your head back, your back arching off of the bed to press even closer against his chest.

He replaces his hand with his mouth, which does an equally good job of shutting you up. With a final rut of his hips into your cunt, he stifles a groan against your lips and you feel yourself filling with his seed. Your muscles relax, your toes uncurling and your chest resuming its breathing.

“Fuck,” he mutters, his head leading the fall onto the bed beside you. His hand wraps around your waist and he administers a final kiss to your forehead. “That was…”

“Just how you imagined it?”

“Better.”

[gay-dorito-dust]

hey, i really enjoyed reading your angst drabbles and i was thinking if you could write something like Viktor neglecting reader and all her attempts to be close to him again, and when she decides to give up on him, she almost die in the council room explosion, after he stood her up again, leaving her in some state of coma. then he regret everything, after all she should’ve been with him…

sorry if i made some mistakes, english is not my first language but im trying my best! 🫶🏻

Ah yes, more angst *laughs maniacally in several cups of coffee and severe need to make ppl cry* also your English is perfect, no need to apologise sweetie. Also! This is extremely long cuz I got carried away. Hope you enjoy tho! 🫶🫶

You adored Viktor greatly, for to you there was not a man who could match his brilliance and his resilience, his determination to see everything that he’s put his whole heart and soul into this hextech project through. Everything about him was enticing to you from his dream to better the lives of others, the twinkle in his amber eyes when he had made a scientific breakthrough, not to mention the way he became more animated and eager to talk as he spoke about it; he sounded more alive then ever before which you loved for him.

However what once brought you happiness would eventually become your downfall for as of recent memories as tensions between Piltover and Zaun heightened to a dangerous degree, Viktor had more or less had secluded himself to the lab from the early hours of the morning, rarely to come out for anything or anyone. Gone were the days where you’d see him in the hallways of the academy, blessing you with his beautiful smile as his amber eyes only seemed to glow within your presence in familiarity, offering a short greeting in passing but the recognition of your existence by him was more then a full length conversation with him would have given you.

He left your peripheral vision with nothing to remind you of moment, nothing but a flutter within your chest that’s warm and suffocating as the same time. Now you were left disappointed to ever think that you could recapture that moment again, such like a love sick individual who was detached from all forms of reality that didn’t have him in it. Times were changing and not for the better, for everyone was on edge with what was to come and the tension was so thick you could cut into it with a knife and anticipation hung heavy over everyone, dreadfully awaiting an attack with baited breath and clenched fists in an attempt of bravery in the face of adversity.

Gone were the brief glimpses you’d get of him from the corner of your eyes, leaving you to believe whether or not you did in fact see him or just someone who wore similar clothing. You’d sometimes catch him in the act of waving at you when he was in a hurry or -when he had time to spare- even making himself welcome to the unoccupied seat besides you in the library, looking over your mountain of books with a raised brow and sarcasm upon his lips.

‘You planning to read them all in one go or?’ He’d say, making you scoff as a smile blossomed across your face as you looked into his eyes, finding that they were already on you.

‘Yeah because that’s a completely plausible thing for a person with a simple mind could accomplish.’ You replied with your own form of sarcasm as your smile widens at the sound of his laugh, gladly to have made such a heavenly sound emerge from his mouth. You two would remain in those same seats until it was time to part ways once again, bidding each other farewells as the days drew to a close and you’d leave for home when Viktor would stay overtime in his lab.

Now you don’t see him at all. Your head would perk up at the sound your mind has made you believe was the soft love tap of a cane against wooded floor, only to have your heart clench and mind belittling you when it wasn’t anywhere near Viktor coming into the library but someone else entirely. You were left with a table littered with books and an empty seat besides you, now cold and devoid of the man who’d always sit there and let his thoughts flow freely and bluntly out of his mouth, and yet you’d much prefer that over the deafening silence that greeted you for the past months as the realisation of how cold and miserable you were without Viktor to make your day complete.

You use to frequent the lab more so then your own office just to see Viktor in the past. So much so that Viktor had left a spare chair by his workbench for you to sit on, letting you linger as he worked and never uttering a single word as you were too entranced by the ways his fingers moved and how his facial expressions fluidly moved from one another, it almost like they were telling a silent story of his emotions of his successes and failures within the project. From the highs and lows, the triumphs of learning something new, to the challenges that left dark bags under his eyes from all the late nighters he’s been pulling to at least achieve something in the midst of all the chaos.

Now the warmth that once filled you as you entered the lab felt cold, like you were intruding on something you shouldn’t have. Your once place of refuge had become a place you didn’t recognise as you immediately noticed the lack of the chair you once sat on, it’s location wasn’t a concern of yours more so than the ache within your heart at the seemingly small act. However for such an act as small as removing a spare chair from a workbench you felt as though this was a sign that your presence was no longer a welcomed one; you had become a distraction and in the worse kind to Viktor, and thus your chair had been taken away, signifying that those warm days of human connection had long since overstayed it’s welcome.

‘Viktor?’ You called out but not once did he show signs of recognition towards your voice nor bothered to look up from his work that meant so much to him nowadays. You didn’t know which hurt more, the lack of response or the idea that you were nowhere as dear to his heart as he was to yours at all, however you still smiled through the ache within your chest in hopes that it was just a delayed response on his part.

Nothing. Viktor didn’t even make an attempt to speak to you and just continued being hunched over his workbench with no intention on stopping, acting as though you were merely just a breeze that passed him by and not a human being he was once close to, begging him to acknowledge you and acknowledge the history between the two of you.

‘How long have you been cooped up in here like a little hermit.’ You tried to attempt a joke that only felt awkward and painful when the Viktor didn’t make a sarcastic quip back towards you. He left you in silence once again as you felt your hope slowly start to die within your chest and your smile began to fade from your lips as your resolve began to waver. You swallows thickly as you tired not to let this get to you and instead believe that he couldn’t hear you, and so you walked closer to him until you rested a hand upon his shoulder, making him stop working for a moment before going back to what he was doing soon after.

‘How long has it been since you slept, eaten anything, or just get some fresh air?’ You asked with concern towards his health and how it seemed that he was driving himself down into the ground for academic validation for his work. ‘Why don’t you take a break and take some time away from-‘

‘Not everyone has the luxury of time on their hands.’ Viktor cuts you off but not in the way you’d hope. His words cut through you, making you flinch away from him from the bitter tone that came from him as though he burnt you. ‘They need help now and I won’t allow any further distractions to hinder me from doing so.’ He adds and it obviously felt very pointed towards you as if you were the problem he now faced and you couldn’t help but get a little upset over this.

‘And kill yourself in the process? Who’s going to help them when you’re dead Viktor because it’s sure as hell not me!’ You bit back as you moved back towards the door, finding no point in standing by his side if he was so willing to discard you like you were nothing in the pursuits of science. ‘I’m not going to stand here and watch you lose yourself to your work, I won’t do it.’ You add with certainty but it’s Viktor’s next words that really hurt you despite the softness of his voice, now was sharp as ice and just as piercing.

‘Then don’t bother darkening my door any longer than you already have.’

You stiffened up at this as you felt your heart tore itself in half at the unnecessary hostility thrown towards you as the rift between the two of you had finally made itself known in this moment. The closeness you once shared with Viktor was now an illusion you fell for so willingly, all with the hopes that something more would come from it one day, much like the hopeless romantic that you truly were. However in this moment it was revealed that none of that mattered to him, not as much as it did to you and just as you were about to leave the lab, you looked over at his back and said;

‘Goodbye Viktor. I promise to never be an inconvenience to you ever again since that’s what you wish for.’ And without needing to hear him, you walked out of the lab, shutting the door behind you as you walked down the hall as silent tears fell from your cheeks as you kissed goodbye the one good thing you had left to keep your head above water; however without it you could feel yourself slipping beneath the waves that had threatened to crash over you for a long, long time as you had lost your anchor and you have the angry to care what happens to you.

…

Everything that happened in a matter of seconds. Too fast for anyone to notice what was going on before it was too late and a wave of pain greeted you as you blacked out.

The council was attacked and all signs pointed towards Zaun as the perpetrators.

Viktor was lucky enough to have somehow miraculously survive with the help of the hexcore but you on the other hand were left in a coma from the explosion. All Viktor knew when he came through in his new body was the news that you had could’ve died had you been just a tiny bit closer to bear the brunt of the unforeseen attack. The doctors were overlooking your possibilities of awaking from the coma, they claim that chances of that happening were slim but they believed that you were strong enough to pull through it, not that any of this mattered to Viktor as for all he was aware was that even if you did awake he’d be the last person you wanted to ever see.

He was told that upon being rescued from the rubble you looked like you had already died with the amounts of deep gashes that littered across your face, he got told that you didn’t even look like you were breathing at all, but you looked oddly at peace with the outcome of such a tragedy; as though you were silently suffering inside your own head for a long time and this was you gladly accepting the fate bestowed upon you.

Viktor didn’t know what hurt more, the fact that you could’ve died, or the idea that you were more then willing to have died in the attack then wake in a reality where he had all but pushed you aside. He couldn’t blame you for not wanting anything to do with him anymore, not after trying so hard to get through to him in the past, only for him to retaliate with words that you didn’t deserve. You had every right to never allow him into your life ever again, Viktor didn’t feel he was deserving of a second chance with you, especially not after something as traumatic as almost dying.

Now upon retrospect it would’ve been morbidly poetic had he did die in the attack, his hand reaching towards your own but never truly touching, a reminder that he had severed that connection with you the moment more was demanded of him and of hextech; A once beloved and respected connection that’ll never mend for the damage was already done due to his own hubris.

You deserved more then him and Viktor knew this painfully well enough to continue to drive the wedge between the two of you, all in hopes that you too would see that you were better off in search of something new with someone else, and yet he couldn’t help but cling onto you for himself so selfishly as though he wasn’t the one who caused you pain in favour of staying within the lab to his own devices. Viktor knew he was being ridiculous and he would only be hurting you in the process with his indecision of whether to keep you close by his side, or as far away from him as possible.

Yet everything within him told him to at least visit you, just to be certain that you would be strong enough to emerge from the coma, but he couldn’t bring himself to do that despite how much he wished to see you recover much like you had been bedside for him when his health declined sharply. Viktor remembered the day clear as day as the concern within your eyes shone, and the grip you had on his hand tightened every so often with every inhale and exhale, you didn’t say a single word but you didn’t half to as viktor has taught himself to read you better then most. It was clear that you were afraid but didn’t have the heart to speak up on it, and now he was face with a similar situation.

You were the ache in his heart that he couldn’t be rid of, no matter how much change his body went through, not that he wanted to either and Viktor knew he was the ache within your heart. You two pained each other with your absences, comforted each other’s overthinking minds and gave each other the company you so needed. You needed each other but didn’t at the same time, it was a never ending game with yourself and Viktor as you didn’t know whether to get close to one another or keep the distance between you and pretend that you’re both not hurting when you were.

However Viktor may regret the words he had spoken to you, it doesn’t change fate in the slightest, he was with his commune in the Undercity and you were still in that coma you should’ve awoken from weeks ago. Yet now and then Viktor would find himself looking to his side where he would normally feel you, only to see nothing but thin air and close his eyes as he took a deep breath to compose himself. He regrets everything he said to you but they wouldn’t change the hurt you were both suffering from, Viktor wanted you by his side in that moment but knew he’s better off wishing for that in another life, a life where he chose you.

Now he’ll get to know how sweet that life would be like and the ache within the remains of his heart hurt just that little more, for you, the ache within his him that he couldn’t get rid of but needed all the same to remind himself that he was still the Viktor you once loved.

[doctorho]

dripping velvet, purring dark

Academy era Viktor x fem! curvy reader, 4.5k, no warnings only love in this house (ok there is a conversation about some people being idiots which can be interpreted as the reader getting unwanted attention at a party but it's nothing graphic or anything i promise and no-one is mean to her) also i made viktor horny and slightly subby because that's what the gremlins in my brain wanted. you're welcome. yeah! hi! not sure what this is, but here you go. the reader is described as she/her here (and curvy, and soft, and she is wearing an evening gown, because i wanted to think about pretty dresses). idk. have a thing. happy friday.

Viktor likes to think of himself as a person who's usually capable of focusing on things pretty well. On the task at hand. Give him a faulty circuit and he'll poke at it long enough to find the broken component, no problem. An error in the calculations? He'll find that missing minus sign or forgotten exponent, easy. He'll strip a wire in his sleep.

The task at hand now, though? The problem?

He had to sit through a whole evening of presentations at the academy end-of-year party, put on a polite face for the investors, and pretend not to care that one idiot after another was lining up to flirt with you while he was watching from the sidelines. You were wearing a dress that felt sinful to look at, and there was something primitive gnawing at the inside of his chest begging to be let out, and he had to just stand there and nod through the conversations, pretend he wasn't slowly boiling from the inside out.

And he was failing miserably. 

He’d known he was in trouble from the moment he saw you that night – all expensive fabric covering smooth curves and soft-looking skin, sparkling eyes and easy smiles, and he’d been done for. Before this, it’d been much easier to compartmentalize his feelings; before this, it'd been easier to ignore them. 

Before he’d kept his distance, emotionally and physically speaking, because, well, it’d been easier. He'd seen you around the Academy, all bubbling laughs and raw-honest radiant smiles and confident solutions, and he'd known that you looked…appealing, but he wasn't in the habit of holding up any illusions about what you might think of him in return. His place was in the dark dusty corner of the lab, turning over the ever-ticking problems, while you were out there shining like the sun. And sometimes you came by the lab, with new ideas or suggestions or just to borrow some equipment or ask about a shipment, and he had resigned to his role of staying at his desk pretending he wasn't burning to be closer to your orbit. 

But when he sees you in the low lighting of the party, leaning to the bar and laughing, something just breaks in him. And then he can’t pretend to ignore it any longer. And sure, maybe he’s a little bit drunk, it was easier to stand these events that way, but it still feels like a solid-honest truth in his bones that he wanted to get closer to you, and suddenly he couldn’t stand the conversation he was in the middle of. Because one of them – the sour idiots he’d catalogued in his head for the whole night, the stupid people trying to impress you with their embellished stories and inherited wealth who weren’t worth your time – one of them was circling you like a hyena again, smiling.

You were wearing a dark, floor-length gown that wasn’t, on a purely technical level, much different from what about 50% of the other guests were wearing. However, it seemed to create a significant caveat that even though there wasn’t anything indecent in the dress itself, seeing it on you made him feel like maybe he shouldn’t look at you for too long or he might spontaneously combust. There was a slit on the side that revealed a more than generous amount of leg when you walked, and his focus kept wandering from that to your silhouette, the soft curve of your hips, your chest, your face – no, that’s worse, don’t stare, she'll notice – and truly, he had to force himself to keep his eyes at least vaguely on the vicinity of the person who was currently talking to him. Something about statistics and return investment. Yes. 

He nods, pretending to look interested.

The dress drapes over your hips in soft little cascades, the fabric shimmering lightly as you moved, and something in his brain was itching, begging to run his fingers over it, to know what it feels like, to know what you feel like under it, all soft and warm and pliable under his fingers, and preferably sighing something into the crook of his neck, and–

“We'd like to get our investment back within a year,” the guy that's talking to him says – Viktor can't even remember his name, and he doesn’t really even care – and he just shifts his eyes back to the guy slowly. 

“A year?” he repeats, with the barest amount of feigned interest, and the guy goes off in a whole new tangent. Viktor shifts his posture, and lets his eyes glide over to where you were again. 

One of those idiots, one he thankfully doesn’t have the displeasure of knowing personally but who must be the son of some crooked diplomat, says something to you and you scoff through a smile, roll your eyes, and lean further into the counter at the bar. Viktor has to pretend to be present for his own conversation – yes, the new coating material for the wires was more heat-resistant, no, there was still the issue of mechanical stress, they were working on it – and you say something in answer to the current idiot (third of the night, he’d counted), and it is killing him that he doesn’t know what it is. 

You’d turned down the first two, from what he could tell. But this latest idiot was still talking to you, like he was in any way entitled to your company. And it's making something inside Viktor raise its hackles, and he doesn’t especially like feeling like that, because he couldn't justify feeling like that to himself in any tangible way, and then it all just boiled down to a resigned even if she deserves better than that i have no business dictating that for her. 

He's just about to focus on the conversation he was supposedly participating in again when something happens. He can't make out the details, but imbecile number three seems to lean way too close to you, says something, and smiles in a way that makes something cold creep down the back of Viktor's neck. And your expression coldens, too, and you say something to him, and turn away, more rigid than you'd been the whole evening. 

“Excuse me,” Viktor is saying to the Investment Guy before he can fully think it through, his own voice feeling distant in his ears, and then he's walking to the bar. 

You're alone – the idiot had had the sense to leave you alone quickly, at least. That's good. Viktor isn't sure what he's doing, but then he's leaning to the bar next to you and ordering another drink and trying to look like he isn't thinking too hard about what to do next. 

“Whatever he just proposed to you,” Viktor says slowly, looking over the bar instead of directly at you, “I assure you you can do better.”

He can hear you take a deep breath, shift a little, and sigh it out with what sounded like almost a laugh. 

“Yeah,” you agree, “I don't know what it is about people like that that makes them think they can just…” You sigh again, and make a hand gesture towards the room. ”You know.”

“Unfortunately,” he answers, resigned, “yes. I do.” 

He gets his drink and thanks the bartender, and then leans to the counter too, mimicking your posture, holding the drink and letting it swirl around in his glass. “Have you talked with anyone actually worth your time tonight?” 

You hmm. Then, “there was a little girl earlier that told me some fascinating things about insect metamorphosis.” You say casually. 

And Viktor laughs. Without meaning to, he laughs, and you smile in response, visibly relaxing a little.

“I don't think she was on the guest list though.” You continue. 

He hums in response, and rearranges his grip on the handle of his cane. “Sounds much more interesting than the conversations I've been in tonight.”

“I know,” you answer, and he can hear the smile in your voice, “you think we could swap out one of the main speakers with her?” 

He hmms again, looking over the stage thoughtfully. “I think it would count as a public service,” he nods a little, considering the list of speakers yet to come, “what do you think, who'd be a good target?”

You shift in your place, looking over the same list of speakers, plastered over the walls on both sides of the stage. “The financial talk,” you answer, “Mr. Ross. I'd much rather listen to insect facts than another boring talk about investing.”

Viktor nods. “You distract him, I'll whack him unconscious?” he offers, and you laugh. You laugh, and it warms something in him. 

“And then what?” you continue, still smiling, and he has to look away to keep his composure. 

He shrugs. “Eh,” he answers, “we drag him to a bathtub somewhere and act like he just passed out there?" He shrugs, "I happen to know three ways to get out of this room that I'm pretty sure we could use unnoticed.”

“Uh-huh,” you answer, “and then we just find the girl and ask her if she wants to talk about bugs for half an hour. Easy.”

“Exactly,” he agrees, “and then we congratulate ourselves for making the evening better for everybody.”

"Except maybe Mr. Ross."

"No," he counters, looking over the crowd, "I think he would prefer a nice little nap. Surely not even he wants to hear himself talk all the time." He takes a sip of his drink, "and I think waking up in a bathtub would be a nice change of pace to the rumors of other places he seems to have a habit of waking up in after events such as these."

“Good point,” you shift in your place, settling to lean to the counter a bit closer to him. “Perfect plan. But why'd you get to whack him unconscious and not me?”

Viktor blinks. Lifts one eyebrow. “Because you are by far more distracting than I am,” he answers, “and I thought the plan could use the distraction.”

“I don't think that's true,” you answer, “I think you're plenty distracting on your own.”

Now, he lets himself look at you. Really, properly look at you, and not even half-trying to hide it. You're smiling now, shoulders relaxed, holding your drink with fingers wrapped loosely around it, and in the warm lights of the bar there's a golden glow on your skin, and something breathless at the bottom of his stomach is aching to get closer to you, to touch you, to see if his hand would fit on your waist as well as he thinks it would, to see how you would react to that, if he could make you smile in a different way, what sounds he could get you to make for him–

“Agree to disagree,” he says, averts his eyes, and takes a sip of his drink. 

Tries to tell that wild-hungry purring thing in him to behave. 

Someone reasonable comes to talk to you – and it's about work, which is…something, probably, he has to stop himself from thinking it's better than those earlier idiots, because who's he to decide that for you? He gives you a casual wave and a nod as you depart with a smile and get swept up in the conversation about new ideas and solutions and this-new-thing you've been looking at. And he watches as you start talking excitedly, all golden and glittering, easy conversation and confident smiles, and quietly (not-so quietly) he concludes that maybe you hadn't had many worthwhile conversations with any of the guests that night because you were the most worthwhile person in there to talk to. 

He stays there sipping his drink and wondering what would be the closest appropriate time to slip out. He'd made an appearance, and technically nothing could be expected from him beyond that point. Sure, Jayce might tell him he could've stayed a bit longer, he could use the support, but nothing dramatic would happen. 

The party drones on, and he makes no effort to move – and really, he tries not to think about it too much, but that was at least in part because he wanted to keep looking at you. He promptly ignores this, even when you're laughing at something someone else said and that heavy-dark-purring something at the bottom of his stomach doesn't like it very much. 

Someone comes to ask for his opinion on something, and with a tiny sigh, he lets them pull him into the loop of conversations again. Yes, we are trying to simplify the design, no we can't cut back from the materials, they are what they are for a reason. 

Somewhere around his third ‘Why would you think that?’ of that particular conversation, he's had enough. People were stupid, and he's had enough. He's just trying to come up with ways to get out of the conversation preferably without starting a scandal of some sort, when he feels a gentle hand on his shoulder. He turns around to look at who it belongs to, and then everything in his head is quiet for a moment. 

“Hey,” you say, smiling, “sorry to interrupt, but can I steal you away for a moment?” you ask, slipping your hand feather-light down his arm, and he has to suppress a shiver. 

Viktor furrows his brows and opens his mouth, and then, like an idiot, says nothing. But he turns to leave, thankful for the window of opportunity.  

“You remember that thing we talked about before?” you continue as you steer him away from the earlier group smoothly, “I found someone who's interested in those three escape routes you had up your sleeve.” 

“Who?” he asks, because that's the only thing he can think of. You've linked your arm with his, and you're leaning on him, and you're soft and warm and you smell good, and he doesn’t trust his ability to form a full sentence. 

“Me,” you answer, “and judging by how you just looked out there,” you continue, “you.”

Viktor swallows, and something in him purrs at the idea. 

“This way,” he says, nodding towards an old stage exit, and honestly, he doesn’t even care why you want to leave, he's just grateful for the distraction and the company and drinking in every warm square inch of skin contact that you're willing to give him, even if it is just walking with your shoulder pressed against his. 

If it turned out to be a plot where you actually wanted to whack someone unconscious, he'd worry about that later. For now he was just happy to leave, and happier that you were leaving with him. 

It's easy to slip away from the crowd, and into the space between the stage curtain and the wall, if you know where you're going. You effortlessly fall a bit further from his side but keep his hand on yours, letting him pull you along, and quietly he wonders how and why and holy shit. He decides not to question it though, and keeps walking through the dim space between the cold old wall and the cascades of warm heavy velvet curtains. 

“Do you want to leave the party,” he asks, voice quiet now that the background buzz of people was muffled by the curtain, “or just get away from it?” 

You hmm behind him, clearly through a smile, and he makes the mistake of looking back at you. Surrounded by the dark red velvet curtains and only slivers of light from each side, his head – and the rest of his body – get entirely the wrong idea of what you're doing in there, because you look like a goddess in the small dim space, and he might crumble into ashes if he keeps looking at you, or he might do something stupid like pull you closer and press you into the wall, to see if your eyes would widen, if you'd gasp from the cold wall, if he could find other ways to make you gasp–

so he turns his eyes away and keeps talking. 

He quickly finds he has to clear his throat before he can do that. “There is a staff entrance that goes past the kitchen a little ways further,” he says, and motions forwards, “or there is a disused indoor balcony surrounding the stage. You would be able to see the party, but it'd feel…removed.”

You lean closer, close enough that when your voice is muffled by the surrounding velvet, it feels like you're speaking right in his ear, and he has to swallow and remind himself that that's just situational coincidence, nothing more. 

“Why do you know so many ways to get out of here?” you ask, “You sneak out a lot?” 

“I am a fan of interesting architecture,” he answers, “and not as much a fan of pretentious social gatherings.” 

“Fair,” you answer, then lean your chin on his shoulder, and he feels like his spine might spontaneously melt. “In your expertise, what would you recommend?”

“Well,” he says, trying to make it sound casual and like he wasn't breathless at all, “I think the balcony has some fairly interesting architecture.” And the lights of the party would look pretty from there. And you'd both get a breather away from the crowd. And he'd get to keep talking to you a little bit longer. And, as selfish as the thought felt, he couldn't deny it; he'd get to keep having you to himself for a little bit longer. 

“Show me the balcony,” you smile, and he obliges. Happily, he obliges. So he pulls you into a narrow staircase, and then, up. 

At the end of it there is a room that could, only by technical definition alone, be called a balcony – it was more like a hole carved into the wall, having at some point been used for seating or equipment space at events and concerts, and now just served as half-forgotten extra storage. It had, he supposed, once upon a time looked like the banquet hall did, all smooth surfaces and warm lights and thematically switched-out decorations, but now it was mostly the standard red velvet and dark wood and light marble, forgotten by the party and some of the golden light from the hall spilling into it by pure coincidence. There were velvet curtains on each side of the room, and you drop his hand to go look over the railing, and down at the party. 

His hand instantly feels cold without yours in it, but he tries his best to ignore this, and follows you to look down at the party, too. 

It looks much smaller from up there. Less chaotic. 

“I didn't know there was a space like this here.” You say quietly, “can they see us?” 

“Part of the design,” he answers, “you're not supposed to notice these spaces unless people want you to. Good place to hide extra orchestra pieces and make it feel like the sound is coming from nowhere. And–” he looks over at the people, colorful and mingling, “no, they can't. Not unless you want them to.” Then, he smiles, just a little. “But they'll be able to hear us, if we direct our voices upwards and wait for things to quiet down there first.”

You turn to look at him. 

“Sloped ceilings,” he explains with a shrug, “again, good for a hidden orchestra accompaniment.” 

“But they can't hear us talking?*

“Not over themselves,” he answers, “ironic, I know.”

You hum thoughtfully and turn around, with your back to the railing, and then you look at him and he needs to kick his brain back in line. You were gorgeous in the dim lighting, all relaxed and smiling, and–

He grips the handle of his cane a little tighter. 

“Good,” you say, and the way you say it – all quiet and warm and liquid – makes something in him purr again, entirely against his better judgement. 

“Why is it good?” he asks, because he has to hold on to some semblance of logic here, because otherwise he might just vaporize out into the atmosphere. 

“Why do you think?” you ask, slowly turning to face him, and oh that just isn't fair. You're just there, just a warm breath of space away, all soft and pretty and languid–

He doesn’t know what to say, so he goes with what feels like the safest course of action. 

“In case we want to plot any more ways to violently derail the evening's program?”

You exhale a small laugh and lean back. 

And then you lift a hand on his chest, and he's pretty sure his heart might be overheating soon. 

“Sure,” you answer, “that.” You inch closer, and Viktor is having a hard time remembering how to breathe. “Or anything else we might not want them overhearing.”

“Like?” He exhales, careful not to break the moment, and then you smile, warm and private and for him, and his insides liquify into warm, honey-thick goo, and oh, he’s not going to recover from this. 

“Like,” you repeat slowly, and then you push yourself away from the balcony railing, just slightly, into the side of the wall covered by the velvet curtain, and he lets you pull him with you, he's not stupid. His brain – along with the rest of his body – might be in the process of actively melting, but he's not stupid. If you wanted to pull him into a shadowed, velvet-covered corner, he would follow no questions asked, especially on a night like this when his insides were buzzing and you looked like that. When you looked at him like that. You smile again, and stop moving when your back hits a wall, and then you pull him just close enough to whisper into his ear. “...Anything else we might not want them overhearing.” you repeat, and, yeah, Viktor is close to becoming the best documented case of human combustion in recorded history. 

In the dim lighting, he searches your eyes into his, and you watch him, waiting, radiating heat between him and the velvet-covered wall. He's not sure why you were acting like this, but all signs were pointing towards you wanting the same thing he did, and he's not sure what he did to get this lucky, but with his every cell buzzing and vibrating and keening over to get closer, he wasn't about to let the opportunity pass. 

He wants to ask ‘why me’ or ‘are you sure’ but what comes out is a broken, desperate whisper of a “can I touch you?”, and you answer with a grin and with your fingers tangled to the front of his shirt, pulling him closer. 

“Yes,” you breathe, “please.”

And really, he wouldn't have thought it would be so simple, but it's the please that does him in – just one whispered word and his brain short-circuits in an overflowing flash of white-hot need. Need to trigger that again, need to please, and need to finally give in to the pleasure waiting to boil. And then it all comes rushing out; the hunger. 

His hands are on your waist in an instant, and his cane clatters to the ground as he leans his weight on you and the wall and for a moment, he has the sense to hope the curtains don't come tumbling down, and they don't, which is good enough for him, because then he can let go of that particular worry and focus solely on finding your lips to his and making the most of every second of this that you're willing to give him. 

The sensations hit his brain like flashes of bright light; how soft you are under his fingers, like he'd hoped, the fabric smooth and silky, giving away easily under his touch. How warm you are, warm and breathing in a fluttered little gasp, the dusty old velvet mixing in with your sweet scent, and then when he gets his lips on you–

After that it's just golden-dark-velvet-honey-thick bliss. You breathe out a small sound that drips down his spinal cord and goes straight to the purring pit at the bottom of his stomach, and he swallows it with a hungry, greedy, desperate groan that comes from somewhere deep inside his chest, and his head is swimming with warm and real and soft and for me–

He is happily overloading his brain with this, and he doesn’t even care. He presses closer to you and you exhale another sweet little sound that makes him bare his teeth, and then his lips are on your neck and he doesn’t know anything except that he wants you to keep making those sounds and he likes the way your hands tangle in his hair and tug. 

“Tell me what you want,” he mutters to the skin of your neck, pulling you closer by the waist, and absolutely relishing in the way your chest rises and falls with short little pants he can hear you take in and out. In and out, and as he tugs at your waist again, just a bit closer, and drags his teeth against your pulse lightly, one of those exhales turns into a sweet little whine. 

He grins against your skin. 

He doesn’t waste the time or energy pretending he isn't an absolute mess over you, right now – his own breathing ragged and fast and his heart hammering in his ears, his whole body buzzing with want – but that didn't mean seeing you react that way didn't make him want to purr. 

Didn't make his insides heat up with I did that. I got her like this. She made that sound for me. For me. It's mine. 

You take a breath, slow and rugged, and then you tug him towards one of the velvet-covered seats. And he moves like he's floating, letting you guide him, because what else is he going to do? You tug him into the seat and he sits on it, gladly, and stays there looking up at you with his eyes wide and only half-lidded and his heart hammering, waiting for more. 

You give him another one of those small, private, knowing smiles, your eyes hazy, and then you step to stand right in front of him. 

And then you hover over him, just waiting for him to pull you into his lap. He does, because he is selfish and greedy and burning, and he's pretty sure he's going to implode if he doesn’t get that delicious pressure on him soon, and his hand fits your waist perfectly, and then when when you do straddle him, your hips pressing down on his, he whines. He lets out a breathless little whine, he can feel it in the base of his spine, and it makes that hunger in him want more. 

“Only the voices directed upwards travel down there, right?” you ask, voice quiet and dripping right into his ear and pooling at the bottom of his stomach. 

He swallows. “Yes.” 

You hum thoughtfully, and press your body closer to his, all soft and warm and perfect, sinking your lips down to his neck and he shivers, instinctually tilting back his head with a sigh, exposing more of his neck to you. 

“Better keep quiet, then.” 

[poisoned-fruit-prose]

𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐥𝐥.

synop: viktor is upset with you. the walls are closing in on your identity. you have nowhere to turn but away.

wc: 2.4k.

request from anon: Your Viktor X mage reader is so GOOD!!! It made me so happy considering that my oc is a mage and works with Viktor and Jayce! If you have time, could you maybe write something in the same scenario (reader being a mage, working with the boys on Hextech + dating Viktor) but where the reader had been hiding that they're a mage and now they have to confess it to the boys and explain why they understand the arcane so unusually well? So sorry if this is worded badly, and if you don't want to write it that's perfectly fine! Have a great day/night!! -🦖

includes: hurt/comfort. happy (?) ending.

author's note: i do apologize that i couldn't fit jayce into here, but i think we all know he'd just wag his tail and perk his ears up and love you all the same. (...puppy-coded jayce x reader fic, anyone?)

“It’s almost as if you already know how this all works.”

Viktor’s words made you freeze.

Hextech was beginning to reek with magic. There were jumps in logic that were far too great for science; it was you, mucking up information, crafting runes, testing things that made no sense to a non-magical mind, one that didn’t possess your internal compass. Viktor and Jayce were along for the ride at the beginning, but the explosive success of the Hexgates and the novelty of the technology’s potential was fading into careful study—a form of work that would expose your abilities and leave you vulnerable to accusations like Viktor’s.

But you didn’t already know how it all worked. Magic was an unknowable thing; it was a plane above you, surging through you in ways you’d never fully understand, not within your lifetime. You were working merely off these fleeting moments where magic, instead of your mind or even your heart, guided you. Magic told you where to step—it didn’t tell you why, it didn’t bother to explain, and it most certainly didn’t care how it appeared to the rest of the world.

It was only a matter of time before your “genius” was seen more as prescience. You no longer had a simple knack for the arcane. You were now a hostile guard of secrets that would otherwise better the world. It just broke your heart that it was Viktor who saw through it first. That he’d have to be the first to be bear your burden.

His words bit with little subtlety. It was late. Desk lamps glowed a harsh white, washing out his already pallor skin and exacerbating the bags hanging beneath his eyes. You didn’t know if he already suspected your abilities, but you now knew he most certainly noticed how you stumbled through every technicality yet were still, always, ten steps ahead of him.

Maybe it was jealousy, maybe it was sleep deprivation, maybe you were looking too far into it all. But you could only respond with nothing. Your mouth hung agape for a moment before snapping shut. You fled the lab. He didn’t follow.

You retreated to the university’s sprawling library; it was too cold for the garden and too late for anywhere else. You buried yourself in books and words when the world became unbearable but, tonight, fatigue and despair clouded your ability to focus. You found yourself crying in a study nook instead.

Somehow, in your attempt to protect the one you loved most, you found yourself driving a wedge between you instead. It sickened you.

“My, this isn’t what the library is for!”

You weren't sure how much time had passed before Heimerdinger’s cheerful voice chirped out beside your chair; a moment later, you heard him scuttle into the chaise beside you. You didn’t bother to look.

“Whatever is the matter, dear?”

You took a shaky breath as more tears escaped you. The Yordle clicked his tongue and reached into his coat pocket. After retrieving the handkerchief folded neatly inside, he reached out and passed it to you. You gave him a grateful look as you used it to dry your face.

You sniffled. He waited patiently.

“I… I fear I may not be able to work on Hextech anymore.”

“Oh, my—I understand your upset now. Why do you think that?”

“I just…” Your breath fluttered. “I think I’m causing an impasse. And I would rather Viktor and Jayce work on it alone instead of it being abandoned altogether.”

“You three are inseparable,” Heimerdinger insisted. “What in the world could you be doing that would call for such a drastic measure?”

You sobbed. “I… I can’t explain.”

“Surely it’s not your relationship with Viktor.”

“No, absolutely not,” you insisted firmly. “This… This would be a decision I’d make to save that. He and Hextech mean more to me than anything. Even my own participation.”

A quiet fell over you two—not uncomfortable, yet not devoid of thought either.

“...May I be honest with you, my dear?”

You nodded, finally looking over at him.

“I know you’re a mage.”

The blood drained from your body and the world shuddered upside down. You gaped at him in dread. The Yordle merely chuckled.

“Don’t be so worried—if I believed you were a threat, I would’ve turned you in long ago. But I have no reason to, nor any desire to.”

You allowed yourself to calm. A Council Member knowing was the worst possible scenario—but Heimerdinger had a soft spot for you in addition to thousands of years of experience. Fate graced you, of all people in all possible times, with magic. You were benevolent, incredibly sharp, and ambitious—and if there was anyone the Yordle believed should wield the arcane, it would be someone like you.

“...How did you find out?”

“Viktor and Jayce are not the only ones who have noticed the leaps you make in your studies.”

You nodded weakly. “...What’s going to happen to me?”

“Nothing at all, dear. I’ll admit, I was quite fearful when I put the pieces together. After all, magic is a very dangerous thing—even an inexperienced or feeble mage holds far more power than any non-user. Yet I cannot deny the work you have done for the world through Hextech. You have proven your worth, your passion, and your goodness. I don’t believe the public should know you’re a mage, for obvious reasons, but I do believe you have a duty to continue your research. Your abilities give you an invaluable advantage.”

You sniffled. “But Viktor… I fear he’s building up resentment because of that. I can’t… I can’t keep doing that to him, sir.”

“I have lived a very, very long life—trust me when I say a relationship such as yours is a true marvel. His resentment is understandable, but it is a drop of water in the ocean of adoration he has for you. Severing your ties to Hextech will only summon a storm. You must tell him the truth.”

“What if he hates me for it?”

“My dear, he leaves the lab when you merely ask him to. He’s going to marry you.”

You were exhausted, but you still ran back to the lab. The moon yawned from behind the windows over an empty chair and a desk in disarray. Viktor was upset with you, so you knew he wouldn’t be home—which left a single place he could possibly be.

Viktor sat on the ledge of the maintenance shaft. His eyes hung heavy but his mind whirred as he played the way you left the lab, defeated, over and over against his skull. He knew he shouldn’t have spoken to you like that. You were the love of his life, his irreplaceable partner in Hextech, and his closest friend. He had frustrations, naturally, but he allowed them to escape their leash and lash out at you. Then, once they had finished with you, they turned and began to gnaw on him.

Your hand was warm on his shoulder. He knew it was you immediately. He turned to meet your gaze, expression somber, hand jumping to yours.

“Miláčku,” he breathed, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you murmured as you settled beside him. You squeezed his hand, rested your head on his shoulder. A wave of relief washed over him. “I’m sorry too.”

“You’ve done nothing wrong.”

“No, I have. I’ve been keeping something important from you.”

You opened your free hand. A single rune nestled in your palm. Viktor gave you a confused look.

“A rune? I don’t understand—”

Without so much as the utterance of a word, the wave of a gesture, or any visible exertion of effort whatsoever, the stone began to glow a familiar blue as it lifted itself from your skin. It levitated, revolving slowly, as Viktor finally grasped what was happening.

“...You’re a mage,” he whispered. The truth shifted the air. You nodded as your hand began to shake. Your fear cleaved your connection with the arcane and the rune fell, lifeless, back into your hand.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” His words were clipped. Panic made you defensive. Disagreements were common in science, but you and Viktor rarely had them outside the lab doors. The irregularity of this, compounded with the danger of magic and fatigue, made you both a little more upset than you should’ve been.

“If it wasn’t obvious, my kind isn’t exactly skipping through meadows hand-in-hand with non-users, Viktor.”

“The three of us are trying to change the world’s view on magic. You should’ve told Jayce and I much sooner—think of what we could’ve done if we knew this!"

Your head ripped off his shoulder to glare at him. “Telling you would’ve done nothing but put you in danger!”

“We could’ve made progress ten times faster!”

"This isn't about morals or philosophy, Viktor—this is life and death! That progress would be meaningless if it meant I had even a chance of losing you!"

Viktor always feared if he did not charge forward with perfect efficiency he would wither away, his life unimportant and impactless. But your words rung out in the night, struck Viktor and resonated through his body. Instantaneously, his world shifted. He saw the way you regarded him, how you held him as the pinnacle of your life. Even above Hextech. Above progress. You were scared. You cared about Hextech just as greatly as him; but what terrified you enough to conceal a crucial face of your own identity, to endure his acerbic comments, to consider abandoning your greatest passion, was not the discovery of your abilities or the destruction of your work.

It was the potential loss of him that came with it.

He finally understood. He saw the world through your eyes. He had been picking evolution over you, chasing importance and impact when he already had it cradled in his hands. He had become spiteful of the person he loved most dearly because you were making more progress. In that moment, he chose the path of his life.

He chose you. For what was progress to an empty man?

“...You would be worth dying for.”

The softness of Viktor’s voice made the anger in your shoulders and face immediately fall away; the actual statement made your heart tear apart. He would keep your secret even if it meant death upon discovery. He would forever share your burden.

You both immediately reached for each other. Viktor's hands took your face, pulling you to him with urgency as he kissed you fiercely. Your hands immediately ran up his chest, the sides of his neck, into the short hair at the nape, then fully into his locks. He snaked an arm around your middle to pull you flush against him; the mention of death only served to burn this moment in his memory. Should the worst happen, should you get caught and he lost you, he’d always remember the way your skin felt against his, how you kissed him like he mattered, how you felt like a well-loved puzzle piece against his own. There was no knowing where he ended and you began, and it terrified him how much he loved it, how he squeezed you closer to exacerbate it.

You only parted when your lungs burned. Panting, you shared breaths and atoms. Viktor bumped his forehead against yours and looked up at you with that gorgeous amber gaze. You were tearing up.

"I meant it," he murmured. Hands still on your cheeks, he thumbed the corners of your eyes, wanting to take the pain before it even started. He held you with more care than his runes, his inventions, his life's work. He held you in the way a priest cradled his scripture.

“Please don’t go doing that,” you murmured.

“Only if you don’t either.”

"I promise."

A quiet tension still scintillated in the air. “...I’m sorry for raising my voice at you. And for the back-handed comments. And accusing you of slowing down our progress.”

You couldn't help but laugh softly. “With a rap sheet like that I should quit anyways.”

“...You were going to quit?”

“Vik, I… The danger of being a mage—you were days from finding out. You were frustrated all the time and I was only dividing us further.”

“No, no more thinking like that.” He grabbed your arms, squeezed them. “You were not the reason for any of this. Hextech is our life’s work, and I can only hope that we continue on it until we die hunched over our papers; but I would give it all up to keep you at my side.”

“You don’t mean that, V.”

“What in the world makes you believe I don’t?” he asked incredulously, leaning in to catch your eyes again. His expression was earnest, adoring, nearly puppy-like from the sheer intensity of his concern.

“I—that’s just a very romantic statement.”

“You believe I’d die for you, but not that I’d give up Hextech for you? Surely you aren’t jealous of our creation.”

A beat. You both smiled. The tension broke with it, and the two of you devolved into laughter. The sound of it made Viktor’s heart just soar. The catharsis of an invention that finally worked, finishing a long book, understanding some complex idea—none of it compared to the way your voice rang out like bells when he made you laugh. Viktor nuzzled his nose beside yours. You reached up, thumbing his bottom lip.

“I'm not jealous. I just know neither of us could survive without Hextech in our lives.”

“Mm, I'm sure we’d find a way to pass the time.”

Viktor closed the gap between your lips again. You both smiled, kissing each other sleepily, unaware of just how prescient your words knelled.

dividers used: sparkles • star

[mono-dot-jpeg]

inextricably bound - viktor, jayce

summary; stuck in a plane above all else but at least you're together

genre/extra tags; oneshot, fluff, bad jokes?, a dash of angst?, czech viktor, jayvik are canon fuck whatever christian linke was saying, just two bros being soulmates in every timeline and they're each others everything (but not in a gay way am i right chat /j), god forbid two dudes be canonically gay in every timeline, sorry im pissed off, im coping with jayvik being gone, OOC jayvik??, i dont know how to write for jayce well, jayvikreader poly sloppy toppy (jk), it's like implied that reader just got pulled in and doesn't know the dramatic moment they had n the astral plane before finally making up., headcanon that the astral plane is almost like being in limbo for death or reincarnation

[reader's gender not specified or mentioned]

word count; 808

a/n; can you tell im mad that there are jayvik non believers? like hate them all you want, but you can't just say that they were just bros and im glad most of the fandom can understand that. am i absolutely greedy for viktor? yes, but im not taking him away from his literal soulmate/twin flame/whatever the fuck gay shit they got going. also i feel like this isnt my best work but anyways enjoy :)

empty.

that's what being in the astral plane feels like. but it's calm. most of your body is engulfed the stars that you once looked up to. now you were part of that. not as a star but as a being. your face is illuminated a white gold shimmer.

"love?" a voice echoes and before you know it, two familiar faces are close to yours.

"vik? jayce?" your voice echoes in the listless space. and it's only then do you register how.. normal they look again.

despite the stars that cover their body and shimmering light of the ethereal, they look like themselves. it was the viktor and jayce you knew. your hands move, your body floating as you hold viktor's face.

"it's you. viktor.." the mentioned male looks at you, guilt and love in his eyes. jayce's hand rests on the small of his back, a silent encouragement for the shorter man. "it's you.." your voice trembles. viktor can't look you in the eye until jayce's hand gently nudges him, and it's only then that he sees the absolute love pouring from your eyes. "i should be more concerned that we're stuck here, but fuck.. i missed seeing you."

you can't exactly cry in the astral plane. your tears end up sparkling and twinkling away and become part of the galaxy you've been pulled into.

"miláček.." you don't even realize how much you've missed his normal voice until now. even if it did have that ethereal echo, it was still him. your viktor. your forehead presses against his for just a moment.

"you... i have a lot to say, but let me be happy for just a moment." viktor tenses at your words, but he relaxes in your touch. you pull away to give jayce the love you missed giving him.

"jayce.. you did so well. more than well. i don't know everything of what you experienced, but you never gave up. didn't know i could be more thankful for you." jayce smiles brightly at your words as you hold his face between his hands in appreciation.

he looks at you with that look he used to give you and viktor when things we once normal. that silly lovesick grin on his face, but you know he can't express how thankful he is for you and him. "i missed you so much, too. you have no idea." he said softly.

"now, with that out of the way, what exactly happened?" the two men look at each other before slowly explaining how everything started and ended with them. and they definitely ended it, seeing as they were taken here by the crystal that jayce held so dear to him. "but why am i here then? i mean, it makes sense for you two to be here. you're basically soulmates."

"don't say that, miláček. we love you too. whether you're in this timeline or not." viktor said gently, floating to you and holding you in his arms. "we won't allow you to think so lowly like that. especially when jayce is around. and especially because that line of thinking does not seem to do well for us. my insecurities blinded me to want to fix everything to a dangerous degree.." he confesses.

"you’re ours whether you like it or not. and it's not like we can find a way to leave here." jayce smiled softly, his large arms wrapped around yours and viktor's shoulders. he hugs you two close, not missing a moment to hold you both in his arms.

"i guess it was really meant to be when i said you're both stuck with me forever." you joked, kissing them on the cheek. "but we're really stuck here?"

after your kisses, viktor starts giving his share of kisses. "it would seem so. not that i'm complaining." jayce joins in on the sweet kissing session, making sure to give as much as he could before you or viktor start telling him to stop. echoing laughter rings out in the empty void. the cold of the astral plane could never make you shiver when you were with the men who did nothing but give you warmth.

"maybe we'll just reincarnate. do you believe in reincarnation?" you asked between kisses. they pause for a moment, contemplating your words.

"eh.. well, i'm sure it wouldn't be crazy to believe in reincarnation." viktor said with the slight tilt of his head, his look silently conveying his uncertainty but uncaring of it.

"if we do get reincarnated, i'll make sure to find you two before anything else." jayce whispered, his face firm with determination and love.

"that's so sweet. and sappy." you laughed lightheartedly.

the two men can't help but join in with their own laughter and just for a moment, the stars twinkle a little brighter as if joining in on the joy.