#viktor x female reader

[xetlynn]

Could you write Viktor (arcane) with reader who is clingy and loves to skinship please.

arcane imagines- viktor

Christmas party

[arcane] [main page] prompt: viktor takes you to his work party in which to show you off. His coworkers were shocked at how much pda he shared with you. Not seeming like the type to do so. (i think i made him a little ooc...)

Footsteps creep close to you as you're hunched over your desk, typing away on your laptop. “Love? That you?” You don’t even glance behind you, finishing the sentence but still leaning your head toward the sound as if you were going to give the person your attention.

“If it was someone else that would mean someone broke in, hun.” The most familiar accent whispers into your ear, kissing your temple. “I’d better become more aware of my surroundings then.” You finally place your hands in your lap, turning the chair to face your boyfriend. Grabbing at his tie to keep him down so you can kiss his lips. “Missed you~” You coo. 

“I missed you too.” He mutters against your lips as you force yourself to stand up, deepening your already locked lips. 

You were obsessed with your boyfriend, almost unhealthily as you felt the urge to always, always touch him in some sort of aspect. He pulls away, placing a finger on your lips before you could bombard his lips once again. “I have a work party.” He spits out with half-lidded eyes, craving another kiss from you. 

You scrunch your nose. “Alright, when is it?” You press your lips to his finger playfully. “I’ll miss you while you’re gone.” You tell him. 

He snickers, “I want you to come with me, dear.” His hand held onto your waist, and your eyes gleamed. “Really? Are you sure?” You question, only making sure because Viktor is extremely private with his life. Taking things slow was in his blood, you didn’t mind it though. You loved this man. And as you respect him, he respects you.

Your love language is physical touch and as his normally isn’t he still let you touch him whenever you pleased. Now he expects it, now he actually loves it. He yearns for it For you. 

“Of course, we haven’t had a party since the first week of us dating, same time last year.” He begins, “it’s been a year and I want to show off the love of my life.” He pecks your cheek and you bite your lip, holding yourself back from pouncing on this man. 

“It’s this Friday, I’m sorry for the late notice.” He juts out his bottom lip. “You knew I’d be free though, don’t lie.”  You boop his nose, your hand was trailing up and down his arm,

“I’ll get our outfits together. I’m extremely excited now.” You let him go, grabbing your phone. He leans against his cane, watching you fervently scroll on the device. “How would you feel about the color red? Since it’s a Christmas party I’m guessing?” You ask, sneaking a few peaks up at your boyfriend who’s trying to hide his smile. 

“I say, choose whatever you like, dear.” He walks over to your closet to grab pajamas he left from the many nights of sleeping over here at your apartment. 

“You spoil me.” You giggle, shutting your laptop and going to your bed to flop down on your stomach. “Always,” he mumbles as he changes out of his work clothes. Unbuttoning his white shirt. You break away from your screen just to take in the view before you. You let out a small whistle and he rolls his eyes, throwing the clothing at your head and you let out a laugh. “You're such a pretty boy.” You hum, hugging the shirt to your chest as you bounce up to your knees. 

“[Name].” He warns and you giggle. “Sorry, sorry. I know I’m just too seductive.” You wink, crawling to the edge of the mattress, motioning for him to come close. He got his plaid soft pants on before walking over, holding a sweater he was about to throw on. “Yes, dear?” He looks down at you. 

“I love you.” Your hands go to his sides, pursing out your lips to which he smooches. “I love you too.” He gets his sweater on and you pout, keeping your hands on his skin. Not allowing the cloth to go all the way down. “Wanna watch a movie?” He asks with a lopsided smile. 

“Mm, movie?” Your eyebrows are knitted together, Gaping up at him as your mitts wander all over his skin. “Dear,” he grins, snatching at your wrists to pull them away. “Let’s watch a movie.” He climbs into his designated assigned side of the bed. “Oh okay, so you hate me.” You dramatically sigh, snuggling into his side immediately along with handing him the remote. Viktor snorts, turning on the tv. 

•••

“Dear, what is taking so long?!” Viktor shouts from outside your bathroom, fixing his red holiday tie. “One moment, I’m almost ready, I swear!” You yell back, checking yourself out in the large mirror. The dress felt a little tight in your chest area. Pressing your lips together, trying to adjust it but nothing helps it. “Oh well.” You whisper, shutting off the lights and exiting the tiny room. 

“How do I look?” You give a twirl, your heels clicking on the wooden floors. Viktor gawks at his girlfriend, his cheeks flushing. “I’m guessing it looks good?” You tease, grasping at his hand to force it on your hip. Wasn’t much of a hassle to do. “Of course, more than good.” 

“Great, let’s go.” You press him into a kiss. His hand falling to his side as you strut away. Slipping your purse over your shoulder. He follows behind you, his eyes never leaving your body that looked absolutely stunning in the red dress. 

•••

“Are you sure they’ll like me?” You glance up to your boyfriend, walking hand in hand into the building. “Hun, that’s a silly question.” He squeezes your hand. You smile, bussing his soft lips. A gentleman opens the door for the both of you, you thank him as Viktor nods his head to the man. 

You admire all of the decorations in the large hallway. “I can’t believe you work here.” You murmur, it was gorgeous on the inside and out. “It is quite nice.” He agrees. 

“It should be in the media room.” Viktor directs you, pointing with his cane. “You never told me this place was ginormous” You genuinely are impressed with his workplace, not seeming to stop with compliments. He just smiles at your words, 

At last you two enter what looks like a ball room. Your eyes widen. Clutching his hand. “Wow.” You whisper in admiration. “Heyy! Viktor and… who’s this?” An unfamiliar man comes up to the both of you. You smile politely. “This is my girlfriend, [Name]. Hun, this is Jayce. My partner on the latest assignment I told you about.” He introduces and you thrust out your hand. “It’s nice to meet you! I’ve heard lots.” 

His expression was in utter confusement but nonetheless took your hand, noticing the other one holding onto his coworker’s. Which shouldn’t be surprising he was just told you were his girlfriend. “You as well, how long have you two been with one another?” 

You look over to Viktor who motions for you to go ahead and answer. “We just celebrated our 1 year last week actually.” You inform him, letting go of Viktor’s hand to hold onto his side. Jayce catches that as well. He didn’t figure that his work partner would be into physical touch but he just melts into your touch. 

“Well, congratulations.” Jayce says to you, glancing over to Viktor who was just gawking down at you. It was if he were in some weird trance. “Thank you!” You beam. 

“Of course, let me introduce you to my wife. She’s actually a part of the executive team and planned the party herself- I’ll be right back.” He says, heading off to find his life-partner and you look to Viktor. “He seemed lovely!” You bump his hip gently. “He is a genuine man, for sure.”

The two of you go over to the snack table, Viktor’s hand stays on the small of your back as you make a plate for the both of you to share. Waiting for Jayce to come back with the mystery woman, well mystery to you. 

“Do you want fruit?” You ask. “Sure.” He shrugs. You look back to him with an annoyed look. “Yes, dear.” He corrects himself, and you chuckle. You hate the word sure with a passion. It never tells you what the person truly wants. 

“Thank you.” You huff, finishing up the plate. 

You snake your hand back to his torso, you feed him a grape as you step to a table. A voice clears their throat behind you and you place the plate down. Both of you turned to whoever it was. 

“Mel, this is Viktor’s girlfriend, [Name].” Jayce presents you  as if you were a huge surprise and you straighten your posture, swallowing down the fruit you had just popped in your mouth. “You’re beautiful!” You spit out on accident and she giggles. “So are you! I didn’t know Viktor had such exquisite taste.” Mel flatters you and you radiate happily. 

“Oh! You’re too kind!” You blush, sheepishly squeezing yourself into your boyfriend’s side. Both Jayce and Mel observe your demeanors. How utterly in love you guys are. 

How every move he takes, you follow, or how your hands are glued to him in any way they can be. And Viktor wasn’t any better, he liquefies into every touch. His peepers at no time leaving sight of you. 

As the four of you chat you suddenly have to use the bathroom, you try to look around. Wondering where it could be but you didn’t want to interrupt the conversation. You chew at your bottom lip, Viktor notices. “You alright, dear?” He whispers into your ear and you nod. “Mhm, where’s the restroom?” You couldn’t hold it anymore. 

Mel overhears. “Oh, I can show you! Come with me!” She offers out a hand and you take it, not without kissing Viktor’s shoulder. 

As the two of you walk away, Jayce turns to his work partner with wide eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me about her!?” He aggressively questions and Viktor sighs. “I mean seriously! She’s wonderful!” He continues. 

“She is.” Viktor nods, stuffing his empty hand into his pocket. “And you are so whipped for her. I mean the pda. I did not take you to do that.” Jayce was incredibly dramatic but Viktor kind of expected it. 

“Are you done?”

“Almost,” Jayce says. “You melt right into her, and you can’t look away for a single second. You’re obsessed with the woman!” He exclaims loudly. 

“Of course I am, Jayce. She’s my girlfriend.” Viktor lets out yet another sigh. “I know but I’ve never seen you with such… love in your eyes. You never look at me like that.” Jayce teases. Viktor glares at the man in front of him. “You’re an idiot, Tallis.” Viktor sees you heading back, mentally cheering that he doesn’t have to listen to this anymore. 

Mel and you were laughing with one another, your hand holding your stomach. The two of you leaning on one another. “You are so bad!” Mel shakes her head, giving your hand a small pat as you calm yourself. “I know, I know! That’s not even the worst of it!” You cry out, Viktor’s lips tug upwards. Jayce was even grinning ear to ear at the two women enjoying themselves like this. 

“What are you two laughing about?” Jayce questions and even Viktor’s intrigued. “Oh, um, I’m telling her about how Viktor and I met.” You disclose, raising your brows over to Viktor with a smirk. His cheeks turn red, remembering the moment. “What was so funny about it?” The tanned male asks. 

Viktor bows his head down, it was embarrassing on his part. 

“It was at a grocery store, both him and I were looking at the cucumbers and grabbed the same one. Like straight out of a romantic movie. Except Viktor told me that I would probably need it more than him.” You tell the story, going over to your boyfriend's side, taking his hand. “Oh my god.” Jayce gasps but Mel gently hits him. “It’s not even the best part!” She already starts snickering. 

“I told him that I need more than a cucumber for satisfaction. I was trying to flirt, it came out horribly.” You giggle, the two in front of you bursting into laughter. Viktor hides his own chuckle. “How did little Vik respond to that?” Jayce inquires. “Oh he was too stunned and I of course made it worse for myself!” 

“I told him, oh gosh I don’t know if I can say it.” You hide your face in your boyfriend’s shoulder. “I can do it.” Viktor perks up now that the worst of his part is over. “Go ahead.” You clench your teeth, cringing at the memory. Jayce and Mel are practically on their toes, so excited to hear. 

“She told me that she’d take my cucumber though. Then her face dropped, realizing what she said. She then backtracks and she says she meant number but the cucumber joke messed her up.” He tells the rest of the story. Even explaining how your first date went. 

And as time passed throughout the night you were chatting it up with everyone that came over. With that you could feel Viktor’s energy begin to deflate. You excuse yourself from the group conversation and walk over to the punch table. “You okay, dear?” Viktor worriedly asks. You knew he wouldn’t leave unless you said you wanted to. “I’m getting a little tired of all the talking.” You lie, pulling him into a hug. 

“You ready to go home?” He rubs your back, soothingly. “Mhm, as long as you’re okay with that?” You innocently look up at him. Knowing you were playing him too well. “Of course, [Name].” He plants a kiss on your forehead. 

“Let’s go say our goodbyes and we can head home.” He assures you and you smirk as you give him one last hug. 

•••

Turning the car on, you look over to your boyfriend who’s closing his eyes, resting in his seat. “I lied.” You back out of the spot. “Excuse me?” He opens his left eye, raising a brow. “I didn’t care if we left or not. I just knew you wanted to leave.” You simply say, pushing the gear into drive before laying your hand on his thigh. 

“What?” He sits up. “I lied because I knew you would’ve forced yourself to stay for my enjoyment.” You inform him with pursed out lips, wanting to pat yourself on the back. “Honey, you didn’t have to do that.” His hand falls a top yours. “I know but I love you and know the love of my life so well. I’d rather spend the rest of the night with you.” You look over at him. 

“I love you so much.” He groans out, throwing his head back. “Really? How much?” You stick out the tip of your tongue. His hand travels up your forearm then back down. Repeating this action. “I’ll have to show you when we get home, won’t I?” He purrs and you let out a squeal in excitement. 

[imthataliensuperstar]

Even though I hated seeing Viktor having a terminal illness and being in pain :( BUT….

He looked so pretty and hot as fuck while doing it!!!

UGH I WISH HE KEPT WEARING THE GLOVES TOO!!!

[luv-lock]

⸻ ꜱ ᴛ ʀ ᴀ ʏ ʀ ᴀ ᴛ ⸻

Pairing: Yandere Viktor x Fem Reader Part 1

Summary: He was just walking at night. Everything was quiet. Everything was fine. What could possibly go wrong?

Warnings: Y/n is mentally ill, Viktor is not really obsessed in this part, more like a slow burn.

Notes: I just start watching Arcane but I think I know enough to write about the characters ig? But if I get something wrong I apologize. English is not my first language. Hope you enjoy!

The streets of the Undercity were always cloaked in a heavy, oppressive silence after dark, punctuated only by the occasional sounds of life: a distant shout, the clatter of boots, or the hiss of steam pipes. Viktor didn’t mind the quiet. He’d grown used to it, his mind finding comfort in the routine of walking home, his bag of scavenged parts clinking softly at his side.

Then something hit the ground in front of him.

Hard.

The sound came first, a sharp scrape followed by a low thud that made him jump. Something had landed right in front of him, and for a heart-stopping moment, Viktor thought it was a body.

She was sprawled on the ground, her limbs at odd angles, her chest still. He froze, his mind stuttering to process what he was seeing. A girl. No older than him, dirt-streaked and wild-looking, like she’d been dragged through hell and spat out. Her hair stuck out in every direction, matted and tangled, and her clothes were little more than tattered rags.

For a split second, he thought she was dead.

His heart was pounding, his breath quickening as the shock began to settle into a nervous dread. What was he supposed to do? Call for someone? Leave her here? She looked so small, so broken. He couldn’t just—

Her eyes snapped open.

“Hi.”

Viktor jumped so hard he almost dropped his bag. She smiled up at him, bright and casual, like she hadn’t just fallen from a deadly height and scared the life out of him. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out.

Before he could recover, she tilted her head and said, “Can you keep a secret?”

“Wha—”

Her grin widened as if he’d agreed, and suddenly, she lunged at him.

Viktor barely had time to react before she tackled him, pushing him backward and forcing him against the wall of the alley. His bag slipped from his grasp, clattering to the ground as she pressed her small, trembling body against his.

“Don’t move,” she whispered urgently. Her eyes flicked toward the mouth of the alley, her body tense like a cornered animal.

He tried to push her off, glaring at her. “What are you—”

She clapped a hand over his mouth, silencing him. The pressure on his mouth tightened as she leaned closer, her body trembling against his. “Don’t breathe,” she whispered urgently, her lips barely moving. “They’ll hear you.”

Don’t breathe? How does she expect me not to—

His lungs began to burn, and panic surged as he realized she wasn’t going to let go. She was staring at the shadows now, her entire body tense like a coiled spring, completely focused on the approaching danger. She didn’t even seem to notice the way he was clawing at her hand, his vision starting to blur from lack of air.

Finally, the shadows passed, and the sound of boots faded into the distance. She exhaled sharply, releasing his mouth as if she’d just remembered he existed. Viktor collapsed forward, wheezing, his hands clutching his knees as he struggled to breathe.

“Sorry,” she said, not sounding particularly sorry at all. She tilted her head, watching him with a strange mix of curiosity and amusement. “Didn’t mean to almost kill you. You okay?”

“Okay?!” he rasped, his voice hoarse. He straightened, glaring at her. “You—what is wrong with you?! You nearly suffocated me!”

She blinked, her grin returning as if he’d just told a joke. “Yeah, but you’re not dead, so it’s fine.”

He stared at her, utterly baffled. “Fine?! I could’ve—” He cut himself off, realizing it was pointless. She didn’t seem to care.

Instead, she crouched down, picking at the dirt under her nails like they hadn’t just been inches from being caught by enforcers. “You shouldn’t be out here, you know,” she said casually, her tone conversational. “It’s dangerous.”

Viktor’s jaw dropped. She’s the one warning me about danger?

“What were you even doing?” he demanded, his voice sharper than he intended.

“Running,” she said simply.

“From who?”

She jerked her thumb toward the direction the enforcers had gone. “Them.”

His frown deepened. “Why?”

Her grin stretched wider, a flicker of pride in her eyes. “Saved someone. They were gonna beat the hell out of him. Couldn’t just let that happen.”

Viktor blinked, startled. “You… saved someone?”

“Yup.” She reached into her pocket and pulled something out. A rat.

She held it up like a prize, its tiny body squirming in her grip. Viktor recoiled.

“This guy!” she said cheerfully, as if she hadn’t just produced a filthy rodent from her pocket. “He told me. Said they were after him. Begged me to help.”

Viktor stared at her, completely at a loss for words. “You… saved a rat?”

She nodded, then tilted her head toward the rat as if listening to it speak. “What’s that? Oh, you’re welcome! Don’t mention it.”

“...You’re talking to a rat,” Viktor said flatly.

She glanced at him, her brow furrowing in confusion. “Of course I’m talking to him. He’s the one who needed help.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache forming. “You are insane.”

“Probably.” She stood up, brushing herself off. Despite the bruises already forming on her arms and the fresh scrapes on her knees, she looked completely unbothered. “But I’m alive, and so are my friend, so we’re good.”

The rat squeaked, and she smiled at it. “He says you’re rude.”

Viktor closed his eyes, inhaling deeply through his nose. Why is this my life?

She stood up suddenly, cradling the rat in her hands. “You should go home.”

He opened his mouth to say something, but she was already walking away, her steps light and carefree as if she hadn’t just caused chaos in his otherwise quiet night. She paused at the mouth of the alley, glancing back at him with that wild, mischievous grin.

“See you around,” she called, disappearing into the shadows before he could respond.

For a long moment, Viktor just stood there, staring at the spot where she’d been. He felt like he’d just been hit by a storm, his mind still struggling to process what had happened.

He picked up his bag with a sigh, shaking his head. “She’s insane.”

Viktor wiped the sweat from his brow as he leaned over the rickety workbench, his hands busy tightening a bolt on his latest contraption. The hum of the old generator filled the small workshop, its dim light flickering in time with the buzzing of loose wires overhead. The Undercity was quiet for once, save for the occasional shout in the distance.

It was peaceful. Or, at least, it had been.

“Viiiktorrr!”

The sing-song voice startled him so badly that he dropped the wrench. It clattered loudly to the floor as he whipped around, his heart racing.

And there she was.

She leaned casually against the doorframe, an apple in one hand and her rat perched on her shoulder like some demented pirate. Her grin was wide and far too pleased with herself as she tilted her head, studying him like he was the intruder.

“Why—how did you get in here?”

She grinned, unbothered, an apple in her hand as she lazily leaned back on her elbows. “You didn’t lock the door, genius. What if I was here to rob you?” She took a loud bite of the apple, the crunch echoing obnoxiously through the small room.

“I don’t have anything worth stealing,” Viktor muttered, turning back to his work and deliberately ignoring her presence.

“Well, that’s sad.” She hopped off the bench, wandering around the room like it was her personal gallery. “This place is… cramped. Smells weird too.”

“It smells like grease and metal,” Viktor said dryly, narrowing his eyes at the mess on his table.

“Exactly.” She wrinkled her nose before holding up a mangled piece of scrap. “What even is this?”

“Put that down.”

She made a dramatic show of tossing it over her shoulder—thankfully onto a pile of equally worthless junk—and walked over to him, planting herself directly in his line of sight.

“Guess what,” she said, leaning in with a grin.

Viktor sighed, running a hand down his face. “I don’t have time for games.”

“That’s a boring guess. Wrong!” She plopped the apple onto the workbench and reached into her pocket, pulling out a very familiar rat.

He groaned. “Not that thing again.”

She gasped, clutching the rat to her chest as if he’d insulted her firstborn child. “Richard is not a thing, Viktor!” she half-yelled, her voice indignant.

“Richard,” Viktor repeated flatly, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes, Richard!” She set the rat on the table like a proud parent. “He’s very sensitive, you know. You should apologize.”

“I am not apologizing to a rat.”

“Then I’m not leaving.” She grinned, folding her arms like she’d won.

“Unbelievable,” he muttered under his breath, pushing his chair back and pointing toward the far corner. “Keep him away from my tools. And don’t touch anything.”

She pouted, scooping up the rat and tucking it into her pocket. “Fine. But you’re no fun, Smarty.”

“Stop calling me that.”

“Why? It suits you.” She tilted her head, smirking. “Besides, you talk all fancy. It’s cute.”

“I do not talk—”

“Yes, you do,” she insisted, mimicking his accent in a way that was both wildly inaccurate and annoyingly exaggerated. “Eet’s naht a secret, ya?”

He groaned, turning back to his work. “If you’re here to annoy me, you can leave.”

“Aw, don’t be like that, Vitya.” She hopped off the crate, leaning over his shoulder to peer at the contraption he was working on. Her breath tickled his ear, and he tensed, trying to ignore the way she was so close.

“What are you even working on?” she asked, her voice full of curiosity.

“A stabilizer,” he replied shortly.

She leaned in even closer, resting her chin on her hand as she watched him work. “For what?”

“For something you will break if you touch it,” Viktor shot back.

She gasped again, this time in mock offense. “I would never!”

He gave her a pointed look, and she immediately grinned, not even bothering to deny it.

“Y’know,” she said after a while, her voice oddly thoughtful, “you’re doing that wrong.”

“I am not—” Viktor froze, frowning as he turned to her. “What do you mean?”

She shrugged, taking another bite of the apple. “That thingy. It’s supposed to go there, not there.” She pointed with the apple, juice dripping onto the table.

He hesitated, frowning at the wire. She wasn’t wrong, but he wasn’t about to admit that. “And what would you know about engineering?”

“Nothing,” she said brightly. “But Richard does.”

He turned to look at her, dumbfounded. “The rat?”

“Yeah,” she said, nodding like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “He’s very smart. Aren’t you, Richard?” She scratched the rat under its chin, cooing at it like a mother with her baby.

Against his better judgment, Viktor adjusted the piece to where she’d pointed. To his disbelief, the mechanism clicked into place, the spring he’d been wrestling with finally snapping into alignment.

“See?” She leaned in closer, smirking. “You’re welcome.”

He stared at her, bewildered. “How—?”

“I told you. Richard is very smart.” She wiggled her fingers at him, laughing when he rolled his eyes.

“You are insufferable,” Viktor muttered, turning back to his work.

“And you’re boring,” she countered, leaning against the workbench and smirking at him. “But you’re lucky you have me. Otherwise, this thing would’ve blown up in your face.”

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “If you’re going to stay, at least don’t—”

“Touch anything? Got it,” she said, immediately picking up one of his tools and inspecting it.

He groaned, muttering under his breath in his native tongue. She just grinned wider, spinning the wrench in her hand as she leaned in closer to watch him work.

“See?” she said after a moment. “This is fun. Like teamwork.”

“This is not teamwork,” Viktor grumbled, already regretting every life choice that had led to this moment.

But as much as he hated to admit it, her advice—whether it came from her or the rat—did help.

“Hey, Smarty?” she said suddenly, her voice softer this time.

“What?”

She smiled, her grin less wild and more genuine, though still laced with mischief. “Don’t forget to lock the door next time. Richard and I might not always be the ones sneaking in.”

He sighed, shaking his head. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

She gave him a mock salute, tossing the apple core onto his workbench despite his protests. “Catch you later, Smarty.”

And just like that, she was gone, leaving him to stare at the space she’d just vacated. Viktor shook his head, muttering under his breath. “That girl is going to be the death of me.”

From the corner of the room, Richard squeaked, and for a moment, Viktor thought he almost agreed.

“You walk too slow,” she complained, glancing over her shoulder. “You’re lucky I have patience.”

Viktor snorted softly. “Patience? That would be a first.”

She giggled, stopping abruptly in front of him. Before he could ask what she was doing, she pulled out a piece of fabric.

“Turn around,” she ordered.

Viktor blinked, confused. “Why?”

“Just do it!” she said, bouncing slightly on the balls of her feet. “It’s a surprise, Smarty. Trust me.”

“Somehow, that is not very reassuring,” he muttered, but he complied, turning his back to her. He stiffened as she tied the fabric around his eyes, her fingers quick and confident.

“Why the blindfold?” he asked warily.

“Because,” she said, her voice unusually soft, “I want to make sure you trust me. I trust you, after all.”

Her tone caught him off guard, the sudden sincerity cutting through her usual chaos. For a moment, Viktor hesitated, his instinct to question her motives clashing with something deeper, something harder to name.

“…Fine,” he said at last.

“Good!” she chirped, back to her usual self. “Now, no peeking.”

She grabbed his arm, tugging him along with surprising determination. He stumbled a few times, half-expecting her to lead him into a wall or worse, but she guided him steadily, her grip firm and warm.

Finally, she came to a stop. Viktor felt her hands brush against his face as she untied the blindfold.

“TADA!”

Viktor blinked, his vision adjusting to the dim light. Then he took in the “place” she was so proud of.

It wasn’t a place at all—not really. They were in an abandoned corner, tucked between crumbling walls and piles of junk. Her “home” was a patchwork of scavenged materials: a makeshift roof of tarps stretched across beams, a tattered mattress shoved into one corner, and a collection of odd trinkets arranged on a broken shelf. It was… bleak.

She stood in the center, beaming at him like she’d just unveiled a grand palace. But when he didn’t say anything right away, her smile faltered. She shifted her weight, looking down and twisting her fingers together nervously.

“You don’t like it?” Her voice was small, hesitant in a way that was so unlike her usual bravado.

The words snapped Viktor out of his shock. “No! No, it’s not that.” He stepped closer, shaking his head. “I just… I wasn’t expecting this.”

She tilted her head, her grin slowly returning. “What were you expecting?”

“Well…” He hesitated, gesturing vaguely. “I thought you were… a stray.”

For a moment, she stared at him blankly. Then she burst out laughing, doubling over and clutching her stomach. “A stray?! What, like Richard?”

Viktor crossed his arms, waiting for her laughter to subside. “You can’t blame me for thinking it. You never stay in one place for long.”

“Fair,” she admitted, wiping a tear from her eye. Then she grabbed his hand, tugging him toward her shelf of trinkets. “C’mere, you’ve got to see this!”

She picked up each item on the shelf—a cracked pocket watch, a jar of mysterious glowing liquid, a rusted gear—and explained its significance with the excitement of a child showing off their toys.

“Look at this! I found it in a pile of junk. It’s still got some working parts!” She set it aside and picked up something else. “And this? Don’t even get me started. I bet I could make it do something cool if I had more time.”

Viktor watched her, his heart sinking. She was like a child showing off a collection of treasures, her enthusiasm genuine and almost heartbreaking.

“This,” she said, holding up a jagged piece of glass, “is my favorite. It reflects the light just right when the sun hits it.”

“And when does the sun ever hit it?” Viktor asked dryly, though his lips twitched with the ghost of a smile.

“Details,” she said, waving him off.

Despite himself, Viktor couldn’t help but feel… pity. This wasn’t a home. It was barely a shelter. And yet, she looked at it like it was a treasure trove. She didn’t even seem to realize how precarious her situation was.

But as she talked, Viktor noticed something else—something that unsettled him as much as it intrigued him.

She wasn’t stupid.

The things she said, the way she pieced together scraps and made connections that no one else would think to make—it was… brilliant, in its own way. Unorthodox and chaotic, yes, but undeniably sharp.

And yet… she was clearly unwell. The way she talked to the rat like it could understand her, the way her mood shifted so suddenly, the way she clung to this place like it was the only thing tethering her to reality—it all painted a picture of someone barely holding herself together.

“You don’t talk much,” she said suddenly, interrupting his thoughts.

“I’m listening,” Viktor replied.

“Good.” She smiled, setting down the glass shard and turning to him with an intensity that made him feel like she was looking straight through him. “Because I think you’re the only one who ever does.”

The weight of her words settled over him, and for a moment, he didn’t know what to say.

“I should go,” he said finally, his voice quieter than usual.

Her smile faltered again, but she nodded. “Yeah. Okay.”

As he turned to leave, she called out after him.

“Hey, Smarty?”

He glanced over his shoulder.

“Thanks for coming.”

Viktor nodded, his chest tightening as he stepped out into the dark streets. The image of her standing in that pitiful excuse for a home, smiling like it was the only place she’d ever belonged, stayed with him long after he left.

Viktor was lost in his work again, the world outside his dimly lit workshop fading into nothing more than background noise. He liked it that way. The soft clink of tools and the occasional hiss of steam were soothing in their predictability, a stark contrast to the chaos that so often surrounded him.

Then the door slammed open.

The noise jolted him, his tool slipping and clattering to the floor. He turned sharply, irritation flashing across his face—until he saw her.

She stood in the doorway, swaying on her feet, blood staining her clothes and dripping onto the floor. Her face was pale, and her wild grin was a shadow of its usual self.

“Hi, Smarty,” she said, her voice faint and trembling. Then her knees buckled, and she collapsed.

“Shit!” Viktor scrambled toward her, dropping to his knees beside her limp body. His heart pounded as he gently turned her over, his hands trembling.

She was a mess. Blood smeared her face, matted her hair, and soaked through her tattered clothes. A gash on her forehead bled freely, her stomach was stained dark with more blood, and—Gods—her hand. Two fingers were gone, the stumps crudely wrapped in a filthy piece of cloth.

“Stay with me,” he muttered, his voice shaking as he checked for signs of life. Her chest rose and fell, shallow but steady. Relief flooded through him, but it was short-lived. She needed help, now.

Without wasting another second, Viktor lifted her as carefully as he could, carrying her to the workbench. He swept tools and scraps onto the floor, clearing a space to lay her down.

Her head lolled to the side, and he caught sight of the deep cut along her scalp. Blood trickled down her temple, pooling beneath her. He swallowed hard, grabbing a clean rag and pressing it against the wound.

“Why do you always have to get yourself into trouble?” he muttered, his voice tight.

She didn’t answer, of course. Her eyes were closed, her expression strangely peaceful despite the state she was in.

Viktor worked quickly, cleaning her wounds with the limited supplies he had. The gash on her head was bad, but not fatal. He stitched it carefully, his hands steady despite the fear clawing at his chest.

Then he moved to her stomach. He hesitated for a moment before pushing her shirt up, revealing a deep, jagged cut just above her hip. Blood oozed from the wound, staining his hands as he worked to clean and bandage it.

“You’re going to be fine,” he said, more to himself than to her. “You always fight back, don’t you?”

But when he unwrapped her hand, his breath caught in his throat.

Two of her fingers were gone, the wounds raw and poorly bandaged. He couldn’t stop himself from staring, his mind racing with questions. What had happened to her?

Once her wounds were patched as best as he could manage, Viktor sat back, his chest heaving. His workshop was a mess, the floor streaked with blood, but he didn’t care. All that mattered was the girl lying unconscious on his bench.

He pulled up a chair, his legs threatening to give out beneath him. Resting his elbows on his knees, he buried his face in his hands.

“You’re going to drive me mad,” he whispered, his voice thick with frustration and fear.

For what felt like hours, he stayed by her side, watching the slow rise and fall of her chest. He couldn’t shake the image of her smile, the way she’d said “hi” like nothing was wrong. Even now, as she lay broken and bleeding, he could picture her laughing it off.

But this was different. This wasn’t some harmless scrape or reckless stunt.

And as he sat there, the weight of it all settled over him like a suffocating fog. She didn’t have anyone else. No one to look out for her, to keep her safe. No one but him.

It had been three days since Viktor had found her, bloody and broken, lying in his arms, barely clinging to life. Three long days of constant vigilance—watching over her, cleaning her wounds, trying to keep her alive. And yet, every time he thought she was stable, every time he thought she might pull through, the weight of the situation would crush him all over again.

Viktor hadn’t left her side. He hadn’t dared. Every time he thought about stepping away—just to get a bit of fresh air, to get something to eat—he’d look at her pale, unconscious form, and the thought would vanish. He couldn’t leave her like this.

He was exhausted. His hands were sore, his body stiff, but he refused to leave. His thoughts had been a blur, haunted by the image of her pale, still body, unable to understand why she wasn’t responding. Why was she still unconscious? Was there something else wrong with her?

This time, though, he’d gone out. For a brief moment, he had left the room, telling himself that she was stable. Just long enough to bring back food. Nothing elaborate—just enough to feed them both, something to give him the energy to continue.

He walked back in, the familiar scent of stale air mixed with fresh food filling the space. He set the food down on the small table beside her makeshift bed, a little too loudly.

And then, as he sat beside her, something happened that made his blood run cold.

He noticed it.

Her chest… didn’t rise.

For a split second, everything seemed to freeze. His breath caught in his throat as he stared at her.

“No, no, no…” he whispered, his fingers trembling as he reached out to touch her neck, feeling for a pulse. Nothing. He put his fingers under her nose to feel her breathing, but it remained still.

There was no breath. No movement.

He felt a coldness seeping into his veins as panic set in. She’s… she’s dead? His mind couldn’t process it. There was no way. He hadn’t let her slip away. He couldn’t have.

His hands moved frantically to her chest. He placed his ear against her ribs, trying to hear any sign of life. He focused—listened—his heartbeat thudding loudly in his ears, trying to block out the noise in his head.

And then, he heard it.

A faint thump.

His breath caught.

A heartbeat.

A heartbeat?

But then—

“Ouch!”

Viktor jolted, pulling back as pain shot through his side. A small, sharp pinch had found its mark, right in the flesh of his ribs.

“Surprise!”

Viktor froze, staring at her, his eyes wide with disbelief as she sat up, her disheveled hair falling around her face. The woman who he had thought was dead, the one who had terrified him with her stillness, was now grinning at him like it was the funniest thing in the world.

Her laugh echoed in the room, light and teasing, as if nothing had just happened. As if she hadn’t nearly killed him with worry.

“What the hell?!” Viktor shouted, standing up abruptly, his face flushed with anger. “What do you think you’re doing?!”

She didn’t even flinch. She just sat there, grinning like an impish child who had just pulled the best prank of the century.

“You… you think this is funny?” His voice was tight with frustration as he paced around the room. “Does it amuse you to scare the hell out of me?!”

Her expression didn’t change, though her smile faltered slightly. She didn’t speak, just tilted her head slightly as if he was the strange one in all of this.

Viktor took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down, though the anger was still boiling in his veins. He turned back to her, glaring. “Do you have any idea what I’ve been through these last three days?!” His voice cracked slightly, but he pushed on. “I thought you were dead, and I—I—I couldn’t…”

She was still silent. Her eyes just stared at him, wide and calm, watching his outburst with something akin to amusement, as though he were an animal in a cage.

His fists clenched at his sides, and he exhaled sharply through his nose. “Why won’t you talk?”

And then, just as Viktor was about to say something else, she spoke.

“I’m happy.”

The words were simple, quiet, almost like a child speaking a secret. She smiled again, the soft curve of her lips more genuine this time.

“You’re happy?” Viktor blinked, taken aback by the simplicity of it. “What, are you out of your mind? How can you be happy after all that?!”

She nodded, her expression almost serene. “Yeah, I’m happy. I’m happy because you were worried about me.”

Viktor stared at her, his face hardening. He couldn’t even process what she had just said. “You think that’s funny?”

Her smile didn’t falter. “Not funny, no. Just… good.” She tilted her head, looking at him with those wide, knowing eyes. “Good that you care.”

Viktor clenched his jaw, trying to fight back the swell of emotion that threatened to overtake him.

He didn’t want to care about her, not this way. Not after everything. He didn’t want to feel this deep, gnawing responsibility for her well-being. But… she had a way of making him feel as if he had no other choice.

“You’re insane,” he muttered under his breath, his tone barely holding back frustration.

She let out a small, soft laugh, almost like she had just cracked a secret code. “Yeah. I guess I am.”

Viktor closed his eyes for a moment, pressing his fingers to his temples as if he could somehow chase away the headache that had started to form. He was trying so hard to stay composed, trying so hard to make sense of all of this, but it felt like the more he tried to control it, the more chaotic it became.

He took a deep breath and then looked at her again.

She was still looking at him, waiting for him to say something.

“I’m not happy you put me through hell,” Viktor said quietly, his voice rough with the weight of his frustration. “But I…”

She leaned forward, her smile widening slightly. “You do care.”

Viktor’s lips twitched. He bit his bottom lip hard enough to almost taste blood. He knew she was right. Damn it, she was right.

“I don’t know what to do with you,” he said under his breath.

She giggled. “That’s okay. I like it that way.”

“You’re lucky I don’t just leave you here,” he muttered, though even as he said it, he knew he wouldn’t. He couldn’t.

She was right about one thing—he had been worried for her. He hadn’t even realized how much until she finally woke up and proved how absurdly difficult it was to understand her.

But her smile—it was the same smile, the one that hadn’t changed since he first met her, the one that made everything she did feel... wrong.

“Don’t go,” she said softly, her voice suddenly serious.

Viktor looked at her, his expression hard. “I’m not going anywhere.”

And in that moment, Viktor realized just how tangled they both were—trapped in this strange dance, this odd connection. She had no idea how much she scared him. How much her antics were eating at him. But for some reason, he stayed.

And somehow, that was the scariest part of it all.

𝒍𝒖𝒗-𝒍𝒐𝒄𝒌 ☆ 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒄𝒐𝒑𝒚, 𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒔𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒐𝒓 𝒖𝒔𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒇 𝒎𝒚 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒌𝒔 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒐𝒓 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒘𝒆𝒃𝒔𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒔.

[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.” 

[grugruel]

Not sure if this is where we can send in requests but you write so beautifully I truly cannot get over it.

Would it be possible to request a smut fic with Viktor from Arcane? Either way cannot wait to read your next fics 🩵

You really found the way to my heart with your kind words because I immediately had to write something for you🥹 I intended for it to be shorter, but it got away from me. I hope you like it!

Keeping Him Company

Pairings: Viktor x f!reader

MDNI/NSFW

Masterlist

Summary: Viktor is still getting used to solitude after Jayce started down the public road.

So when you offer to keep him company, he gladly takes you up on it.

Wordcount: 3k

Warnings: fluff, angst ish, friends to lovers, pinv sex, cowgirl, oral sex (f receiving), feelings, plot with porn.

AN: Viktor is not a shy man, and I will die on that hill😭

"Dont you wish to be up there with him?"

Light spilled through a gap in the tall curtains, partly illuminating a man in hiding.

"It is not my within my talent," he said and slanted his lips, a thick accent curving his pronunciation.

The girl approached him, walking along the shadows edge. She was clad in a red and white ensamble, mirroring his own. "Everything is within your talent."

Casting a wistful glance at his leg, he doubted her words. "A simple misscalculation, im afraid. He shines, I do not . . ."

Booming from mighty speakers was the man of progress, holding a speech in front of thousands of people. The brief breaks to collect his breath allowed for them to hear the audience's reaction, and the collective whispers of expectant folk rolled through the crowd in waves.

She stopped next to him, hands clasped infront of her. "You're uninterested in the attention." She pitched her voice at the end, framing the statement as a question. Suspecting she already knew the answer.

"I do not enjoy it," he shrugged. "I prefer the practical part of our work."

"The solitude?"

He looked up at her, having had to sit down at some point during their conversation. The promise of dark circles had begun taking form beneath his eyes, painting a tired look onto his face.

"Hmm . . . The quiet if anything, I think. I've found myself in solitude more often than not since Jayce started handling the . . . public aspects," he explained and gestured broadly with one hand, encompassing the local. The entirety Piltover too, she imagined.

"You're happy with that?"

Bobbing his head from side to side, he could not agree nor disagree. "I like quiet, but I prefer the company. Jayce makes good company."

"Well," she began and reached out to him, pinching a piece of wild hair between her fingertips and arranged it back into shape with the rest of his dark waves. "If you find yourself in unwanted solitude, you can always send for me, Viktor. If nothing else, I might be able to help in the lab," she smiled. It was her specialty, after all.

They'd been friends since they enrolled in the academy, but learning under Heimerdinger rarely allowed them time to see eachother.

Straightening his cane, he heaved himself back on his feet.

She would offer him help, but knew it wouldn't be too appreciated.

Leaning on the support, the stream of light escaping the stage colored his face and set it aglow with warmth. "Thank you, . . ." he called her name and smiled. "I might do that."

He was a strong mind in a blighted body. The brightest often were.

-

It was late the next day when she'd gotten a message from Viktor.

Pushing the tall door open, the setting sun painted the spacious workroom in a dim golden light. On first inspection, one could've thought it abandoned. Books were strewn on every available surface, opened or stacked. Dust had already managed to settle on a few, and she guessed that they'd been deemed irrelevant to the two men's work at some point, then simply forgotten to time and unpaced space. "Viktor?" She called out.

"Over here," a thick accent answered. Venturing further inside, she found him by the colossal windows that held a view Piltover. To the side was a blackboard with rows upon rows of calculations. "Please, take a seat." He smiled and gestured toward one of the few chairs that were free of piling notes. "I'd like to show you what I have been working on."

-

And so the evening spilled into dusk, and dusk poured into night. There was nothing now but the dark sky and starlight illuminating the two of them.

"It is not correct," he tapped the chalk against the board and sighed, highlighting a specific problem to her eyes. He'd asked for her thoughts at some point, and ever since the two had been going back and forth trying to solve one particularly stubborn equation.

Settling down on the chair that she had long abandoned, Viktor wrapped his hands over the cane's handle and rested his chin on top. Exhausted eyes studied the same scribbles he'd gone over and over a hundred times before.

In unisome, they sighed.

Knowing glances were thrown each other's way, luring a chuckle from the both of them and gratefully releasing some of their tension. "Thank you, for lending me your mind this evening."

Pursing her lips, she moved in front of him and settled against the worktable. He was still facing the board, pondering the solution, and allowing her to look at him unabashedly. The strong jaw and sharp cheekbones, that pretty little mole above his lip and his perfectly half-wild hair. "I had a good time," she shrugged. "I should be the one thanking you." Unable to help herself, she leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on that angled cheekbone of his. "So, thank you, Viktor," she murmured.

Pushing herself to her feet, she reached out to grab her things, then moved to leave.

But a hand grabbed her wrist before she had the chance. "Thank you for keeping me company, . . ." Viktor said, voice sliding lower with each word until her name spilled from his lips in a whisper.

Her eyes switched between his, attempting to determine if there was an ulterior meaning his words. Looking down at their hands, she noticed his thumb stroking the thin skin at her wrist. Clearing her throat, she swallowed. "You didn't invite me here just to theorise, did you, Viktor?"

He followed her gaze and inspected the hand he held in his. "I like the quiet," he said, gently toying with her fingers. Running along their length, he absentmindedly bent and straightened them as he carefully thought about the next words to leave his lips. "But it seems, I prefer you." His fingers slid between her own, lacing them together.

Stepping closer to him, she cupped the sharp angles of his cheek. Giving him no other choice then to look up at her with those big, rounded eyes. "Are you telling me I'm loud?" She teased.

"No," Viktor smirked and let his cane slip to the floor, prioritising holding her hips. "But I would like to find out." He put pressure behind his hands, pushing her back onto the tabletop behind her. "Take those off, please." He nodded his chin at her suitpants, then leaned back in his chair.

Smiling, she did as asked and a little bit more, leaving her in nothing but her undergarments.

His eyes trailed over her body, along the curves of her breasts and lace covered mound. Without a word, he moved the chair to face her, hands sliding up her calfs until they hooked beneath her knees and pulled her to the edge of the table.

"Viktor, you don't have to-" she began, rather putting in work for both of them so he could avoid further strain on his body.

But desperate to be of use, to do it himself, he insisted. "I want to," he assured, wrapping a hand around the back of her thigh and squeezed. "Please . . . Let me."

Hesitantly, she nodded her head in compact motions. Willing to please him, but needing him to please her more.

Placing one hand behind her, she braced her weight against the table while her other hand brushed stray strands from his eyes. Combing it back, she burried her fingers in his thick waves. "Okay," she whispered.

What followed was a satisfied smirk and an eager lips trailing kisses along her inner thigh. He made quick work of her panties, then paused. Looking up, brown irises locked with her own as he hovered an inch from her heat. Then suddenly burried his face between her thighs before she'd gotten a second to breathe.

"Fuck-" she moaned, head falling back in bliss as Viktor worked his glorious wonders. An experienced tongue thrust into her core and lapped at her wetness, closing his eyes and humming throughout as if tasting heaven itself. "You taste very sweet, darling," he murmured against her, damp breath fanning against her core and sending shivers up her spine, doing nothing but further spurr her arousal on.

Sinking his teeth into the flesh of her inner thigh, he looked up at her, finding the entire city at her back, framing her exalted form. Behind her quivering shoulders ran the horizon, the night sky painting her into a saint as it formed like a halo around her head. Watching her heaving chest and panthing mouth was enough to make a man believe in powers greater than science.

And he wouldnt relent, when seeing the reaction his mere tongue could cause. He couldn't give her mercy, and he could not give her another second to collect herself lest her climax strayed too far away.

Without warning, he slid his tongue up her folds, collecting her arousal only to swallow with groan. Before she could gasp, he'd already slipped back between her thighs. Aternating between soft kisses and gentle nipping, he turned her into a whimpering mess. In a final act, he latched onto her clit, sucking and circling with fervour. Tears of pleasure rolled down her cheeks as her fingers curled into a fist, pulling on his hair as she held on for dear life.

But all he did was whine from her taste and the pressure on his scalp, whine from the growing unpleasantry in his pants as he devoured his dinner and licked his plate clean. "Pretty," he murmued, and she opened her eyes to look at him.

One quivering body- and an arched back later, she laid back against the tabletop, fighting hard to catch her breath.

Looking back, she glimpsed Piltover. She saw thousands of lights illuminating homes, she saw the sky and the glimmering stars. But she couldn't be sure if it was reality or hallucinations of eyes recovering from a tumultuous orgasm.

Moving up, she braced on her forearms, surveying Viktor's own state. He'd circled his arms around her calves and laid his head in the valley between her thighs, kissing and whispering sweet nothings against her skin. Thumbs stroked soothing circles into her plush flesh whenever his mind reminded him. "Thank you," he whispered and kissed her. "Thank you," he repeated over and over again.

"Thank me when we're done," she exhaled, adoring the way his reaction to making her come was gratitude, for letting him bring her to completion. "Chair or bed?" She asked, already planning their next endeavour. "I want to please you too."

Blinking, he considered. An uncertain smile twitching in the corner of his lips. "Our rooms are far," he murmured, glancing down at his leg. Self-consciousness was never something he displayed, never did he complain or bring it up. In his mind, he wanted to prove that there was nothing wrong with him, that he could withstand and surpass.

Although she understood, although she empathized with him, she did not see the need. A dent in a machine did not change its capability, but it could bump the risk of deterioration. "We all need help sometimes, Viktor," she combed through his hair, scratching and brushing his scalp in turns. Sliding a finger down his face, she placed it beneath his chin, tilting his face to meet hers. "Some hardships are more visible than others, but that should not affect the view people have of you. It certainly won't affect mine," she whispered and brushed her thumb along his upper lip, fingertip gently dotting the mole above, and then followed his cheekbone up to his temble. "But, it's your decision, whatever you're comfortable with," she assured, rubbing circles into his temple.

Burrying his face in her thigh, he sighed and nodded, untamed hair scratching her skin pleasantly. "Yes." Viktor sat back and reached for her hands, clasping them in his own. "My room it is," he smiled and kissed up her knuckles, palm and wrist.

-

She'd never been sure if the professor's assistant got a fancier room then the other students. But standing inside it, she could confirm it was bigger at the very least.

"We were outside of the workshop when miss Medarda found us," Viktor explained as he closed the door behind them.

"No! What did she say?" She snickered, eager to hear the following as shd vetured into his room, examining some of the knicks and knacks he had laying around.

Leaning on his cane, he scrathed his chin. "I do not remember," he said, and then a blush rose to his cheeks, staining them a pretty, pale red. "I believe I paniced and told the councillor that I had gotten the rooms wrong."

Raising an eyebrow, she sauntered back to him, already questioning how the story would end. "And which room was that?" She asked, toying with his collar.

Viktor cleared his throat. "Jayce's," he chuckled, thumb rubbing the handle of his cane. "Miss Medarda had little trust in my excuse."

Her lips pulled into a thin line as she met his eyes, making a worthy attempt at with-holding her laughter. "At least it turned out well in the end," she managed, fingers working to unlace his west as she backed toward the bed, pulling him with her.

"Yes," he said and re-removed her shirt, getting the satisfaction of pulling it over her head this time. "I would like to think so."

Sliding his west down his shoulders, she began unbuttoning the red fabric beneath, where she found another piece of his engineering. She traced the clever contraption with wonder. Softly admiring the skill and ingenuity he'd put into it.

Looking up to ask him about it, she found his expression close to discomfort. He looked vulnerable, like it was a piece of himself he rarely showed anyone else unless he had to.

Smiling softly, she met his gaze with a slanted head. "It's crafted brilliantly," she recognized his hard work while studying the detailing. "It's a-"

"Brace." There was note of resignation in his tone. "My back, it is . . ." He trailed off, looking away.

She sighed silently, hating that he couldn't see his own beauty the way she did. "It's beautiful, Viktor. Truly. It suits you." She ran a finger along the strap over his shoulder. "We can keep the shirt if you'd prefer it."

"No," he said and began taking the shirt off, struggling as he only had one available hand. Sensing irritation, she cupped his jaw, gathering his attention. She watched his face soften, honoured by his trust in her. Then brushed her hands down his throat and shoulders, tracing his collarbone before sliding over his shoulders and beanth the fabric, helping it fall to the floor. Viktor turned them around and moved onto to bed without another word.

She smiled to herself, instantly shy by his sudden confidence. Crawling after him, she straddled his lap, careful not to put too much weight on his leg.

"I am not ready, to . . . Remove the other, yet," he murmured, no longer as resigned when talking about his condition. "I am afraid the pants must stay on, for the moment."

"Thats okay," she nodded softly, connecting their foreheads. "I don't mind." She placed her hands on his chest, feeling his skin beneath her palms. She brushed them down his arms until she found his hands and laced them together with her own, and her lips inched closer to his.

For a while, they settled in this new position. Simply enjoying the moment of newfound feelings and fragility, inhaling one another's scent and sharing the air between them.

Viktor tilted his head to the side, moving closer until their mouths were ghosts upon the other. With parted lips, he crept ever closer, patiently testing the waters. Then, softly, they closed around her bottom lip. With a unified exhale, she kissed him back. She could very faintly taste herself on him.

Together, they could focus on nothing but the softness of the other and the frequency of their breaths. When their lust filled lungs could no longer expell air through their mouths, their noses had to take up the slack. Somehow, adding on to the intimacy between them. In this second in time, they were two souls with lungs filling of emotion, ramping up the speed in which they needed to act.

With no other way for the feelings to go, the eagerness in their lips had to carry them out.

Laced together, she moved his hands to her body, giving him free range to wander while her own traveled downward and found the buttons of his pants. "Is this still alright?" She murmured in-between kisses.

"Yes, please," he answered, his own hands undoing her bra. Then there suddenly was the sound of skin on skin as he slid his hands back around her ribs and cupped her breasts.

With a gasp from his touch, she got the buttons open. Reaching down, she pulled his member out.

He'd been fully hard since they'd left the workshop, and intending to finally put him out of his misery, she spread the pre-cum leaking from his tip and circled it gently. Earning her a soft whimper.

Placing one hand on his chest, she lined him up with the other. Pushing him back against the bed and quickly followed suit herself, wetting the tip in her core.

"Please," he begged, hands moving to cup her face, pulling her back for another kiss. "Please." He introduced their tongues and let them explore each other's mouths. Finally, she carefully slid down his length. Resulting in a shprt break from their kiss through the unisome gasp.

As she began to move, to rut her her hips into his. The kiss became needier and needier until their teeth were clashing and breathing rapid.

She angled her hips so her clit could be stimulated against his mound. She released a breathless whimper at the sensation, but earned a twitch from the member inside her and a grin from the man beneath her. "Glorious woman," he moaned, moving to kiss her jaw and neck. His hands slipping from her face to her hips and ass, squeezing and encouraging her ruts with help from his wrists.

From the several points of pleasure he made for her, she was already closing in on her second orgasm. Straightening up, she put both hands on his chest and used him as support to move in longer bounds around his inches. "That alright?" She asked, imagining nothing worse than to cause him

"Yes, y-yes. Mmh . . . M' close," he managed. Observing her on top of him did nothing to ease the matter, and he hissed from what his thoughts of her alone could muster.

Grinding down harder, jolts of electricity shot through her body. Their combined sounds of pleasure along with the sensations they caused had them both close to their limit.

Closing her eyes, the night sky began forming beneath her eyeslids. Her entire body felt much the same, static sizzled in every nerve as the pressure came close to releasing.

"Look at me," Viktor said with a breathless voice. Fingers clawing at her back and waist with a non existent sharpness.

Taking a deep breath she closed the distance between them once again, and opened her eyes.

This time, she could see the stars reflected in his eyes. His hand wrapped around the back of her neck, bringing her head against his, and allowed their lips to meet one last time before they spilled over the edge. Viktor quite literally, as he filled her up with his seed.

With no strength left in her body, she collapsed. Yet, still taking care to place her weight on her side rather than his torso, along with her legs settling between his rather than on top.

"Thank you," he whispered, lips finding her temple as she rested next to him. "For keeping me company."

"It was my pleasure, Viktor," she chuckled. "I hope we can do it again."

"Yes, I would like that," he nodded. "I really care for you, . . ." He whispered her name. "I think, perhaps-"

"I care for you too," she stopped him. "Let's let things happen in their own time, okay?"

"Okey," he smiled, scratching her nape.

As their euphoria began wearing of and sleep caught up, her mind could not settle. "Viktor," she murmured.

"Mmh?" He answered, already drowsing of.

"I maybe think so, too."

[mysterymachine9]

Viktor (Arcane) x gn!reader

Summary: Helping him relax 🫢

NSFW. Minors DNI. Not proof read ❌

This is my first time writing for Viktor, forgive me if it’s bad 😓 This is short, but when I get used to writing for him I’m sure there’ll be longer fics in the future.

You finally convinced Viktor to take a break on working. Finally. After a good amount of suggestions and practically pleading. Now all you had to do was help him relax.

You were sat in his chair, him on your lap. Your hand worked up and down on Viktor’s cock. Slowing down whenever he got close. But you only did that once, considering how much he worked and how he deserved to feel the relief of cumming.

Viktor’s head was against your shoulder. Every whimper and whine that left his mouth got delivered straight to your ear. Your thumb rubbed against his tip, causing Viktor to gasp and move his hips into your touch; chasing after your thumb. He’s earned this. Constantly staying up late working and rarely ever taking breaks. All you wanted to do for the man was give him what he needed—to be there for him. And of course, you did just that. You soon went back to stroking him. With the amount of pre cum that leaked from his cock, it made it much easier. Every movement that your hand did made a squelch sound. Filling the silence of the room alongside the heavy breathing and moans.

It was clear that Viktor was close when he began whimpering more frequently. He looked down at your hand working his cock, but looked away, shut his eyes, and moved his head when you sped up. His jaw was open, yet he didn’t make a sound. That was until he finally came. Letting out a moan that was like music to your ears. Cum spurted up and got onto his clothes—staining that area white.

You kept your hand going, helping him ride out his orgasm. It soon went to a stop when overstimulation started to bloom.

“You relaxed now?” You asked.

“Mhm.” Viktor responded, tiredly.

[madschiavelique]

A Crown Of Ink : Chapter 8 - Knight of Pentacles

summary : reader is pushing herself a bit too hard while studying for the exams, so sky calls in for reinforcement (jayce and viktor)

content warnings : some angst, more banter, viktor ain't having none of reader's bullshit

word count : 5,4k

author's note : okay so this has some kind of underlying brat!reader x dom!viktor dynamics ngl but no smut obviously! just lots of innuendos hihi

proofread by the lovely @yaffles-world

masterlist : here ．．discord : here ．．playlist : here

taglist : @doctorho @6selkie @yunloyal @kryscent @hypocritic-trash-baby @kapitankarate @a-lovers-card @ababanerb @lolixsstuff @forget-me-not-my-dear @smolanchovy @shugar0cone0alt @harrys--ferret-blog @suuummerrr @stillinracooncity @noxturnalmoth @dlbitch @cloufire @csolya @kathyholdsagrudge @furblrwurblr

You buried your nose and mouth in your elbow, a coughing fit taking hold of you until your lungs vibrated and echoed in your chest. You huffed, bringing your forehead to your hand as you swallowed. Your throat ached, but despite the pain, you kept going.

"If we follow Nesvor's principle on the calculation of energical stabilisation between a trajectory force and the Von Gasan Indicator of a speeding particle, we can deduce that x..."

You continued your recitation, your voice hoarse and your mind acting mechanically.

A week had passed since Professor Heimerdinger's announcement, and you had been studying non-stop.

You'd spent your first weekend working between customers at the café, your own cups piling up in the corner of the storeroom while your breaks were spent re-reading your notes and starting your revision sheets between your sandwich and your shots of espresso.

You'd underline, highlight, circle, synthesise, frantically searching your notes for formulas and key words to incorporate into your sheets until your fingertips were covered in neon yellow and black ink when you gave customers their orders.

When classes arrived on Mondays, Sky woke up at her usual time while you were already awake above your desk, the light dimmed as you transcribed your Practice of Elemental Alloys lessons.

"You're awake already?" she grumbled, rubbing her eyes.

"Made some coffee," you replied, simply, as her eyes returned to the coffee pot, half empty already.

"Oh, nice." She articulated before getting up, bringing her body without connecting her tired neurons by pouring herself a cup.

It wasn't until she reached the shuttle stop that she considered the fact that you'd never gone to bed the night before. She watched you, concerned, as your eyes were riveted on your sheets, rereading them, your lips forming the words written on them without any sound coming out.

The first lesson came, and you were attentive, noting down almost every word the teacher said with a speed that Sky didn't even think possible, using your own unintelligible shorthand. You took part in every question, as if you'd already done the same lesson three times.

When the break came, you didn't even get a word in edgeways as you got out your flask to pour yourself another coffee, eating your lunch without much interest, your eyes never leaving the multitudes of lines in your lessons.

When evening came, you almost rushed to your desk, pulling out all your notebooks and sheets of paper to grab another revision sheet and get straight down to work.

When she called you for dinner, you'd simply tell her you weren't finished, that you'd eat later, and she'd left you a plate in the fridge.

While Sky tucked herself under her blanket, ready to sleep, you were still at your desk, hunched over your notes.

And when morning came and she woke up, there you were, sitting at your desk, your back bent like a wilting flower. When she opened the fridge door to get herself a juice, she found the plate. Untouched – it hadn't moved a millimetre.

It was at this point that she really started to worry.

"You didn't eat?" she asked.

"Didn't what?" you repeated, turning your head only when the silence had stretched out for a few seconds and your eyes went from Sky to the open fridge door. You raised your eyebrows. "Ah, no," you replied with a small smile as you turned back to your notes. "Forgot."

"Did you.. go to sleep?" she questioned.

"Yeah, around one in the morning. Woke up at five." you explained, twirling your pen in your hand as you tried to absorb information from another class.

"That's four hours of sleep." Sky chuckled, slightly nervous at the news. "How much did you sleep the previous night?"

You smiled, tired. "Don't worry, Sky. I'm fine." You pointed with your chin to the kitchen worktop. "Made some coffee."

She sighed, taking one of the tupperware containers from the cupboards to transfer the contents of your plate and save it for lunch. She did her best, however, to ignore your little coughs and sniffs.

Noon came, and you hardly ate anything. You had only taken a few mouthfuls, absent-mindedly immersed in notes on another subject.

Had you eaten breakfast? How much coffee had you had? Had you really slept a bit last night, or had you lied so as not to worry Sky?

Another evening followed the same pattern, and another day dawned without you moving from your desk. Dark circles were beginning to form under your eyes, your lips seemed less coloured and more chapped, your complexion lightened.

You were shaking slightly, your body growing more and more tired. You were already coughing more frankly, covering yourself with an indoor scarf as Sky's eyes drifted more and more towards your bin, which was filling up with tissues.

You looked like a zombie, barely lucid, mechanical in your movements as you pressed your fingers to your forehead. 

You had started to fall seriously ill. The lack of sleep combined with your diet of mostly coffee and energy bars was beginning to be too much for your body to cope with. You wouldn't even have been surprised if you'd managed to lose a kilo since you started studying.

As Friday drew to a close and you were mindlessly dropping things off at your desk, Sky pulled out the shopping bag for a refill.

"Need anything?"

You didn't turn, gathering up your revision kit, clearing your nearly-breaking throat to answer her. "We're running low on coffee, I think."

She sighed. You were completely locked in this state. No matter how many dishes she prepared to give you extra time to study, it seemed she couldn't reach you, couldn't make you understand that at this rate you were going to get worse.

"I'm going to the library," you said, leaving almost as soon as you'd got in.

"Okay. Well... good luck," she answered, before you stepped through the door. 

You only hummed an absent "mhm" as you left. Sky picked up a shopping bag, thinking for a moment before stepping out of the door a little later in turn. She wasn't going to make a simple trip to the shop, not when you had to be reasoned with and she had no influence on what you had to hear.

So she went down the stairs, and instead of going through the doors to get out of the dormitories, she continued on to one of the lower flats.

She knocked on the door, waiting a moment and thinking about what to say, hoping they'd be here. 

It opened to Jayce.

"Sky?" He said, obviously surprised to see her here like this.

She took a deep breath. "Is Viktor here as well?"

Jayce, still confused, opened his door fully to reveal Viktor sitting on his bed reading his notes. She huffed – Viktor at least had the decency to revise without exceeding the limits of what a body could tolerate.

Her eyes returned to Jayce as Viktor broke his eyes away from his notes to rest on her.

"Can I talk to you guys for a minute?"

They exchanged worried glances, Jayce opening the door a little wider to let her in.

"What's the matter?" Asked Viktor, turning to sit on the edge of his bed.

"It's..." she stared at the floor for a moment, searching for words before uttering your name. Viktor's eyebrows furrowed, his interest clearly piqued. "She's sick."

"Sick?" Jayce repeated, having never before associated your name and that word together in all the time he'd known you.

"Since Heimerdinger announced the finals, she's been working like her life depends on it. She barely speaks, she doesn't eat, and I've started doubting if she even sleeps." She crossed her arms over her chest, her fingers firmly gripping the flesh of her elbow. "She's been coughing, I haven't been able to have her take her temperature... She's getting worse by the day. At this rhythm I fear she could get worse."

Viktor stood up, pressing on his cane to adjust himself and move towards Sky. "Have you voiced your concerns to her ?"

"I did," she confirmed, nodding, "but she won't listen to me. That's why I came to see you."

"Us?" Jayce repeated, surprised.

"Yes. You've known her for longer than I do," she said, turning to Jayce, "I'm sure she'll listen to you."

"I don't know if I can make her listen to reason," he sighed. 

Her eyes darted from Jayce to Viktor. "I'm sure she'll listen to you both."

"Both of us?" Viktor asked, arching his eyebrows.

She pressed her lips into a thin line. "You may not realise it, Viktor, but she has a lot of admiration for you."

He gave a laugh that was almost accompanied by his eyes rolling heavenward. "Miss Young, I don't think admiration is really the word for the situation."

"She won't admit it to herself." Sky sighed. "At least not right now. But she admires you, Viktor. She respects you. If there's one person who can change her mind or even make her realise how impossible her condition is, it's you."

Viktor's lips parted for a moment, surprised by the news, before they closed again and the muscle in his jaw tightened. "Should we go and see her now?"

"She's gone to the library. I'm not even sure she can find the strength to walk anymore."

Jayce and Viktor exchanged a knowing glance, and nodded.

Your eyes were starting to blur as you tried to read the jumble of letters forming supposed sentences over and over again.

"If we follow Nesvor's principle on the calculation of energical stabilisation... If we follow... If we..."

You felt your eyelids twitch, closing them for a moment to try and calm the incessant buzzing. Your eyes stung, your nose ran, your throat hurt with every swallow. You shook your head, trying to regain your composure and read the formulas you should know so well.

You heard your name called and turned to Jayce. He looked worried, examining you for a moment. Beside him was Viktor, his eyebrows noticeably knit. You sighed, your eyes returning with great difficulty to your endless lines of text.

"What do you want?" The question was cold between your lips, your throat itching as the sudden effort to speak caused you to cough more.

"Can we talk?" Jayce asked, stepping forward slightly with Viktor to face you.

You cleared your throat, your face tightening at the discomfort of the gesture. "I can't even express to you how much I would rather do literally anything else."

Jayce breathed in, sensing that the conversation wasn't going to be easy.

"You're sick, you have to get some rest-"

"I'll rest when the exams are done." Your glassy eyes turned to meet Jayce's.

Viktor huffed. "This is ridiculous." 

You pouted, feeling too tired for this stupid game. "You're ridiculous."

Viktor seemed surprised, not by your remark, but by the weakness in it. You were always used to coming up with an elaborate response to his remarks, and now you were simply saying this? 

You had disappointed him, you suspected, and your heart twisted slightly at the idea.

I can't be disappointed, you thought. Because if I disappoint them, I'm nothing.

"The fridge and the streetlight will both find something more studious to do than waste my time," you managed to mumble uneasily, your head hurting horribly as you shivered.

"How do you find the strength to have things to say when you're in such a pitiful state, Miss?" Viktor asked ironically.

"Let go of me," you breathed, sniffing and biting your cheek. Your jaw was so heavy it felt like lead weights had been hung on every tooth.

Viktor leaned in slightly towards you, Jayce standing back.

"How am I supposed to fight fair with you if you're not healthy?" His voice was softer, more tender. Concerned.

"And how am I supposed to stand up to you if I don't study?" Your cheeks were hot, fatigue tugging at every limb.

"It's not studying," he said as you met his gaze, "it's a relentlessness that's slowly killing you."

Why was he making all this effort for you? Why had he taken his precious time to come and talk to you? Was he trying to dissuade you from revising? Was this another strategy so that he could outdo you?

Feverish thoughts flooded your cotton-filled head.

"Do you doubt me that much?" You asked, bringing your tired eyes to his. "Am I a burden to you?"

His eyes widened, lips parted as silence returned to the room.

He thought so, didn't he? He didn't dare say it out loud, but surely he was thinking it. You followed him like a bad shadow all the time, you must have been unbearable. 

You must have been a disappointment.

"That's what you think, isn't it?"

His jaw clenched, and your eyes were ready to prepare their tears, your nose stinging like you'd eaten too much mustard.

"You never had the time to really stop and care for yourself, have you?"

His voice was amber, fluid and vaporous as he delivered such bitter words to you.

"Why would you even care?" you chuckled, squeezing your eyes tightly shut as his vision blurred not with tears but with fatigue.

"I like you way more than my urge to hate you."

The sentence pierced your heart, your eyes widening for a moment to catch the truth that was nestled in his. He wasn't lying to you, was he? He wasn't just saying that to please you and prevent you from getting any more upset? After all, since when did Viktor say anything to please you? It didn't make sense.

You shook your head and stood up from your table, staggering as you tried to gather your things. "I'm going to study somewhere where neither of you will annoy me."

"Stop this." Jayce almost grumbled. "You shouldn't be doing anything in this sta..."

But Jayce's voice was beginning to fade dangerously as black flies began to fill your vision. Your body felt so heavy, getting up had been a mistake. Your head was spinning violently, the world seemed unstable and rocking to and fro.

You felt yourself falling backwards, and a hard, warm surface caught you as two hands grabbed your arms.

You heard your name being called – Jayce's voice no doubt. Everything was so blurred that it was impossible to tell where your body ended and the world began. You reopened your eyes weakly to see Viktor approach you with a worried look.

You were too weak to move, barely able to keep your eyes open.

He moved his hand closer to you, placing it on your forehead. His fingers were cold, long and soft against your skin. You closed your eyes at the sensation, trying hard not to tremble.

"Miss," Viktor said, his voice sounding concerned, "you're... burning."

You shivered, a small film of sweat covering your forehead as you felt your hair stick to your skin. You were so cold, trying to come back to reality, to steady yourself.

"But Nesvor's prince, Nesvor's prince..." You ranted deliriously.

"Let's take her back." Jayce said, you deduced his voice through the blur.

You simply felt hands on the back of your knees and your back before everything went black.

You kept waking up and going back to sleep, sometimes seeing light, sometimes hearing snatches of conversation, but you couldn't work out whether they belonged to dreams or reality.

"... You've got to get some sleep." Said a voice.

"Sleep can wait." Said another.

"Just... don't pull all nighters like her okay? I know her state is... but don't forget to... care... too..."

In this constant state between sleep and fever dream, you were cold. Sometimes you felt things. The cool sensation of a glass against your lips and the horrible taste of a mixture you couldn't quite work out, spreading down your throat and into your mouth.

The conversations seemed impossible to link together, to put in chronological order.

"... Think she'll get through?’

"... will take no time... medicine..."

You felt your chest rise every time you coughed, wincing at the sensation. You could barely feel the blanket covering you, as if you'd been covered with nothing more than a drape and left with nothing else.

Sometimes you managed to mumble, to talk to yourself in delirious dreams.

"I have to get back..." you breathed. "Studying, I have to."

You dreamt that your body was smaller, your limbs weak, your hair sticking to your forehead as you breathed hard. Everything around you was dark, a dull thud in the background of a crowd. 

You felt a cold cloth on your forehead and chattered your teeth.

"Shh..." you heard. "It'll pass."

You wanted to curl into yourself, to find a warmth in the half-light that would envelop you, comfort you, reassure you.

"It'll be alright." In their battle against sleep, your eyes roamed the damp walls of a cellar where the orange light of candles was reflected. "It'll be over soon."

You wanted to take every flame in the room and gather them close to your heart, coat yourself in their warmth, wrap yourself in them and never have to tremble so pathetically again.

The voice in the dream was right. You opened your eyes with difficulty, still blurred, squeezing them until your nose wrinkled before you opened them again.

You weren't in a cave, you didn't have any cold, wet wipes on your forehead, no candles reflecting faintly off any rock walls.

You were in your flat, lying in bed, no longer shivering from the cold. You turned your head towards the window, watching the sun filtering through the panes.

How long had you slept? A night? An eternity? You couldn't place yourself.

You breathed a sigh, turning your head towards the rest of the room in the half-light, when your eyes fell on your bed.

Sitting there on a chair, someone had fallen asleep on your sheets. A ribbon of sunlight passing through the thin curtains of the windows was tracing across his brown hair and his closed eyes.

Viktor.

He was gracefully asleep, his head turned towards you on his crossed arms. He seemed peaceful at first glance, except for the frown that creased his forehead.

Why was he there? What was he doing at your bedside? What was he dreaming about, to make his eyebrows furrow like that? 

You sat up in silence, moving slowly, not wanting to wake him. You watched him for a moment, silently contemplating the tiny specks of dust in the air passing through the gold ray.

Tentatively, you moved your hand closer, and it too entered the beam of sunlight, bathing it in a pleasant warmth. 

What is he dreaming about?

You hesitated for a moment before, almost by instinct, you gently pressed your index finger between his eyebrows. You didn't really know why you were doing this, how long had it pained you to see him in any discomfort? 

What is he dreaming about?

His frown disappeared under your fingers, like an eraser removing a cross-out. He looked so serene there, bathed in the sun glow. Did he sometimes think that the sky over Piltover was too big for the trickle of light you had in the bowels of Zaun?

What is he dreaming about?

His eyes opened slowly, the sun shining on the honey of his iris as they went from staring into space to landing on you.

He sighed, not moving from his current position, cheek resting on his arm as he looked at you quietly for a moment of silence.

"You're awake," he murmured, his voice numb with sleep.

"You were asleep," you answered in a voice just as small, regaining the use of a throat that hurt less but was still unpleasant. 

What were you dreaming about? you wondered, hoping that he would tell you on his own, that he would confide in you. But he said nothing, just stared at you. You couldn't make out his expression, couldn't tell what he was thinking, and you finally understood the frustration he felt when he tried to find you out.

You looked around the rest of the room as you gradually woke up. You were safely in your room, the chair from your desk missing as Viktor sat on it. Sky wasn't there.

"Why are you here?" you asked.

He exhaled, raising his crossed arms as one of them came towards you. You moved your head back but your pillow prevented you from moving any further. Two of his fingers touched your forehead. They were warm, the residual heat of sleep still enveloping them. He sighed, bringing his hand up to rest his chin on his palm, pressing his two fingers from your forehead against his cheekbone.

"You are ill." He explained. "I was just making sure this would stop."

You gazed at him, not saying a thing.

"When I was still in Zaun, I used to be just like you. I used to go days without sleeping, without eating, doing whatever I could to prepare for the exams. I know what it's like to push yourself too hard to achieve something higher than yourself. But destroying yourself before you reach your goal is no way to enjoy the taste of victory."

You pursed your lips, straightening slightly and bringing your legs towards you, cross-legged. 

"Why did you do this?" You asked, puzzled. "Why did you help me?"

He gave a little laugh that made him sway on the balance of his hand.

“Because someone once said that they had this old human thing called 'free will',” he smiled, ”and mine dictated to me that I had to get you to rest.”

You chuckled, lowering your eyes to your hands, bringing your fingers together and beginning to triturate them mechanically.

“But... why?” You kept coming back to this question, trying to find out what his real motives were.

“Can't have my best rival sick while she goes against me now, can I?”

My best rival; the appellation made you feel all funny in your tummy, or maybe that was just your symptoms.

You glanced at the window, the sun still splitting a blond line across your blanket.

“How long have I been sleeping?”

Viktor's shoulders relaxed. “You've been in and out of sleep since we brought you back from the library yesterday.”

“Yesterday?” You choked.

You'd found yourself at the library at around seven-thirty, and if the sun was already up...

“What time is it?” But a far more distressing realization dawned on you. “Oh fuck, I have to get to work.”

You straightened up, already pulling on your comforter to try and get up. But Viktor straightened, sitting down on your bed as he placed his hands on your comforter, at the same height as your hips.

You frowned, recoiling as your head hurt.

“No.” He said simply.

You sat up, confused.

“What do you mean 'no'?”

He didn't move, keeping his hands on your blanket. “Sky went to them and told them you would be taking the day off due to your health.”

“What?” You saidas if someone had just punched you in the stomach and the shock had expelled that simple word. “But-”

“No ‘but’,” he remarked firmly, carefully relocating your cover on top of you. “You are staying in bed today. End of discussion.”

You chuckled, apprehensive to respond to this, but Viktor gave you a simple look, the kind of glance that firmly underlines 'you don't want to fight me on this.'

You crossed your arms over your chest. “I still have to study.”

He shook his head slightly, chin high. “Don't care. You are resting today.”

“And what if I don't rest?” you asked, arching an incredulous eyebrow.

He let out an arrogant huff. “Want me to call Jayce? I might not have his strength, but I have enough determination for the both of us.”

You bit your cheek, pouting. “You can't pin me to bed all day long.”

He chuckled, almost darkly. “It's cute that you think I'm not capable of it.”

You inhaled heavily. “Can't run after me so you're just going to tie me to my bed, is that it?” You almost spat.

He seemed very amused by your remark, happy even. “You're giving me ideas.”

You'd recovered your rebuttal, and that seemed to reassure and satisfy him.

“How are you feeling?” He asked before reaching for his cane resting against the wall next to your head.

“Sore throat, sore head, sore all over.” You sighed, drawing your knees together in front of you until you rested your head against them.

You could hear him getting up, his cane tapping against the floor of your apartment like a new sound catalogued to his name. “Sky should be here soon, she's gone to the pharmacy.”

You turned your head to the side, watching him. He'd reached the sink, turned on the worktop light, taken an empty glass between his long slender fingers.

"Are you going to fill me full of pills?" You asked, tiredly.

He cut a packet of medicine in half, wedging it between his teeth and tearing the slit in the paper. He poured the contents into the glass before running it under water. He had rolled up his sleeves, the light over the worktop highlighting his silhouette. You let your eyes wander lasciviously over his forearms as he took a spoon to stir the whitish mixture.

"We've had a doctor in the meantime." He put the spoon down on the worktop, picked up his cane and came over to you. "He prescribed a treatment. I had a few sachets of the same medicine left in my things so we used them on you." He sat down on the bed, handing you the glass. "Sky's gone to get some more.’

"What about Jayce?" 

"Gone to see Selene," He replied, pushing the glass a little closer to you. "Drink this."

Your mouth fell open in shock.

"What?" 

You'd never told Jayce, or Sky. Only Viktor knew.

"You told them about Selene?!" You raised your voice, regretting it as you began to cough.

Viktor sighed, bringing the glass back in front of you. "Drink this, and then we'll talk." 

You were about to answer, but the words melted off your tongue like butter when Viktor spoke again. "Don't argue with me."

You looked at him for a moment, frustrated, before bringing both hands to the glass. You reached for it, your fingers brushing against his for a moment. 

You brought the mixture close to your nose, the smell making your whole face pucker. You exchanged a glance with Viktor, who nodded to encourage you not to worry too much about it.

"Till the very last drop," he said, spacing each word carefully.

You huffed, taking one last look at the contents before bringing it to your lips, frowning immediately as you took your first sip. You remembered the taste; you'd drunk it between fever dreams.

You swallowed the last mouthful with great difficulty, passing Viktor an empty glass as you pressed the back of your free hand to your mouth. He seemed amused, rising again to refill your glass with clean water that didn't taste atrocious.

"Why did you tell them about her?" You asked, still annoyed.

"Selene is your legal guardian, she deserves to know the state you're in." He refilled the glass, bringing it back to you. "And besides, she's the one person in your circle who knows the most about you."

"You didn't need to tell them about her…" you grumbled as you took the glass with much less suspicion than before. 

Whose job had it been to give you the treatment while you slept?

He sighed quietly. He didn't seem to have missed your stubbornness. Or maybe he was just tired. You turned to him. You'd woken up with him at your bedside. Had he been watching over you? You took a sip from the glass of water, an immensely diluted remnant of the remaining treatment swirling in it.

"The medicine," you begun hesitantly, "were you the one giving it to me while I was asleep?"

He breathed in gently, his eyes dropping to the glass you were holding for a moment, tilting his head to one side as his lips parted. But his sentence never came as the apartment door opened on Sky.

Viktor got up from the bed, moving away as Sky put the shopping bag on the table before coming towards you, all smiles.

"You're awake!" She exclaimed. "How are you feeling ?"

Your eyes drifted to Viktor, who had walked straight over to the packet Sky had left on the table and checked its contents.

"Better," you admitted, your eyes drifting back to the glass, your thumb caressing the outline.

"Um, Miss Young?" Viktor asked, the latter turning to him as you followed her gaze. "You know how to administer the treatment. Make sure to give her the next one in five hours from now." He moved towards the door. "If she resists..." He turned to you, giving you a knowing look before returning to Sky's. "Come to us. We'll take care of it."

He gave you one last look before walking out, leaving you and Sky alone with a few hundred questions.

"How did the night go?" You asked, unable to stay still, your desire to know stronger than your tiredness.

"The guys... Viktor was amazing," she admitted. "They brought you back here; Jayce was a bit panicked." You both smiled. “Viktor had the situation under control."

You remained silent, waiting for Sky to continue her recounting.

"He immediately asked about all your symptoms in detail, calmly telling Jayce to go and get some of his own medicine from their flat. If you'd seen the way Jayce rushed down the corridor..." She laughed, and you imagined the scene perfectly, smiling back. "Viktor never left your side."

You breathed in, thinking back over the snatches of conversation, putting together the fragmented pieces of a blurred memory. Sleep can wait. It was Viktor's accent.

"He gave you each dose of medicine, every five hours, sharp. Like clockwork. I don't even know if he slept." She stood up, heading for the bag. 

"Wow," you breathed, "Viktor did... all this? For me?"

You couldn't believe it. How could he have gone to so much trouble, spent so much time making sure you got better?

“See,” Sky smiled as she came over to you, bringing a pastry with her, "he isn't that bad.’’ She handed you the delicacy. "Here, a treat from Emeline. I swear I thought all her freckles were going to fall from her face when she heard you were sick."

You took the sweet in your hands, smiling at it: your favourite order from her. Sky stood up again, heading for the worktop.

"Hey, Sky?" She turned to you, and you saw a slight fatigue on her face. Poor thing must have spent half her night listening to you rave in your sleep and coughing your lungs out. "Thank you – for all of this."

She smiled, relieved. "You would have done the same for me."

And it was true. In the quartet you all formed, you would have done the same, even for Jayce, even for Viktor. She turned again, moving on as you took a mouthful of your pastry.

After the vile taste of the medicine, you had heaven on your tongue. You savoured it for a moment, your head turning towards your bedside table until you found your tarot deck.

You shuffled a few cards, cutting as usual, and turned the deck over to reveal the Knight of Pentacles. You picked up the little booklet, flipping through until you found the page.

You began to read the key words, and felt your cheeks flush as you glanced at Sky to make sure she was busy. When that proved to be the case, you went back over the lines: Physical and sensual. Introspective. Slow energy with incredible results.

Sensual?

The Knight of the Pentacles carries the slowest energy in the game. He stares at the pentacle in his hand as he considers his next move. Will he plant it like a seed in the freshly ploughed field beside him, or will he slip it into his pocket and ride off into the sunset? It is all about plotting and planning the future.

A knight... representing Viktor? 

You closed the little manual, your eyes staring into space.

What was he dreaming about?

✦﹒ previous chapter

✦﹒ next chapter

[tiyawnyana]

Heyy! I'd like to request Viktor x f!reader, an academic rivals sort of thing. Lots of bickering, teasing and all that. I really love the concept, and I've read every fic I found like this, but I'd love to see it in your style!

So the reader is really frustrated, and they are arguing, lots of tension yk, then she accidentally confesses to liking him/finding him really attractive, so she turns all flustered and tries to deny it, aaand I'll leave the rest to you, maybe it could be smut? With a bit of dom Viktor, hehee

Thank you so much<33

Thank you for your request and patience!!! Loved envisioning Viktor in this 🥴

A/N: i had the woooorst hangover new years day oh my goodness

Characters: Viktor x Fem!Reader

Warnings: rivals to 'lovers', tension, dom!Viktor, teasing, praise (use of good girl), fingering, slight oral (f receiving), maybe a little ooc but I picture Viktor as a teaser

MINORS DNI

—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—

In Piltover's esteemed engineering college, there were always self-proclaimed rivals in academics.

You stand in the entry hall, glaring up at the scoreboard for the most recent exams.

Your name was placed second.

Second to Viktor. An honorary student from the lower streets of Zaun. To be fair- he had clawed his way to where he was now. That much you could respect.

But come on. Really?

You were practically born reading, studying, bleeding engineering. This was your calling.

How was he able to score better than you? There's no way.

The sound of a metallic cane hitting the ground echoes in the hallway before stopping beside you.

You sigh, gritting your teeth.

A low chuckle can be heard,”Nice score,” the voice speaks smoothly, rolling the ‘r’ and looking your way.

You exhale angrily through your nose,”Oh, shut up.”

A mock look of surrender crosses his face as he raises his hands, cane hooked on his forearm as you cast a scathing look his way.

“Hostile, hm?” He smirks at you and you shove down the fester of butterflies swarming your belly.

With a scowl and a scoff, you turn and stalk off.

His pleased snicker can be heard, sending a jolt of anger up your spine.

The annual engineering designs contest was creeping up.

You were practically vibrating from excitement, having finally finished your own project weeks in advance.

In between that time there were seemingly countless exams that you had to cram study sessions in for.

As usual, it was a back and forth with a certain Zaunite for who claimed first place.

Frustration brewed in your belly, festering over time into something more aggressive.

The day of the Engineering contest was a huge success.

You had cleared your mind of all unease and submitted your invention, pleased with the professor's reactions along with your peers.

“Quite impressive, I will admit,” that accented voice sends a chill up your spine, and you turn to see Victor smirking at you and your invention.

”Sarcasm, how delightful,” you scoff.

“Not sarcasm,” he clicks his tongue, moving past you to peer down at your entry,”Interesting design- can’t help but notice its similarities to the early engineering of Piltover creations.”

You tense slightly, surprised,”What of it?”

He shrugs, a playful smirk on his lips,”Have you seen my invention yet?”

You narrow your gaze,”No, I have not-“

He keeps his smirk on his lips as he tilts his head towards where his invention is being admired. By many, you should add.

Even the Dean.

Hot, boiling jealousy brews in your gut.

You ended up storming out of the halls, needing to calm down.

You find solace in one of your favorite classes, Professor Daughtry’s room. Pacing back and forth, you attempt to calm down; looking at chemical compounds written on the chalkboard to formula’s on posters to distract yourself.

You’d worked so hard, going over seemingly countless versions of your invention in hopes to get the Dean’s approval and favor. With your parents breathing down your neck and now this overwhelming pressure to be the best- you couldn’t seem to calm down.

You hear someone approaching the room, door ajar.

“Sorry, can I please be left alone?” You mutter the most respectful way you can.

“This is a common area,” of course, it’s him and his stupid accent.

The hairs on your arm bristle up as you turn to glare at him.

He mockingly raises his hands in surrender, a small smirk on his lips. He walks in, allowing the door to slide closed behind him.

“Viktor- the door!” You yell but it’s too late. The automatic lock can be heard.

Professor Daughtry had it installed when one too many students snuck into his class to fool around.

“You- you imbecile!” You groan, crossing the room to try to pry the door open.

“Wiggling the doorknob isn’t going to unlock it,” he teases.

You whip around to glare, finding him already lounging against one of the tables by the front of the classroom.

“Oh- will you just- just shut up!” You scowl, glaring at him.

“Feisty,” he smirks, raising his hands again in mock surrender,”What did I do to get on your bad side, hm?”

You roll your eyes, huffing in annoyance. Your forehead comes to rest on the door, willing it to unlock.

Of course Professor Daughtry has an automatic lock, you think silently with an eye roll.

“Well?” Viktor hums, sitting against one of the desks.

You scoff,”What haven't you done?”

“Oh? There's more than one?” He smirks and you find annoyance in the butterflies that swarm everywhere inside you.

You narrow your gaze as you look at him fully, taking in his relaxed state.

Curse him to look so good in the Zaun colors. Curse him to have such a gorgeous set of golden brown eyes.

Curse him to be blessed with such a face.

Curse him, Curse him, Curse him.

“I was born to be a top engineer,” you scowl,”And you just come waltzing in being a know it all-”

“Sorry that I too, was born to be an engineer-” he looks bewildered, rolling his eyes.

“Shut up! This is my entire life-”

“It's my entire life, too! What are you going to do- sell off new inventions to the highest bidder?”

You glare at him,”What of it? Profit gets more creations made, all in the name of progress for-”

“For Piltover, right?” He huffs out a sarcastic laugh,”None of it for Zaun?”

You look at him in surprise, eyebrows shot up.

He smirks at you, but it's not the one you've found yourself liking,”Of course not. I am here in the name of Zaun, princess. Everything I do and create is in hopes that Topside will see that Zaun is capable of great things.”

“I never said-”

“You didn't have to, it's written on your face!” He shouts, pointing his cane towards you,”I see the way you glare, your judgement is based solely on the fact that I am from Zaun.”

“I'm not- glaring because of that!” You huff angrily, taking one step closer.

“Then why, huh? I’m scum to you? Filth from the undercity?” He steps closer too, cane hitting the marble flooring with a clack.

“You’re hot- you stupid-“ You cover your mouth instantly, face warming in embarrassment.

He stands still, eyes wide as he looks down at you in surprise before his mouth lifts in a smirk, an exhaled laugh leaving his now parted lips.

“That’s not- I-“ You stammer, backing up to the door and turning to tug on the knob while simultaneously hoping the floor beneath you would swallow you whole, saving you from this mess.

You rest your forehead against the door again, the cool varnish on the wood a contrast against the warmth in your face.

You hear his cane clacking against the floor as he steps closer before you feel him lightly hit the back of your ankle.

“Stop it-“

He huffs out a laugh that sends a shiver down your spine. You lift your head from the door, side eyeing him and that stupid smirk.

“So.. if I heard this correctly-“

”Ugh.. shut up,” you groan, clenching your eyes shut in pure mortified fashion.

He hits the back of your ankle again, taking delight in your embarrassment.

”You’ve been glaring and being a sour princess because you..” He takes a step closer,”Find me attractive?”

His cane is used to box you in against the door and you warily turn around to face him and the stupidity of your unfiltered mouth.

“No- that’s not-“ You try to deny but you’re shut up when he just smirks down at you, stepping closer.

“Oh? Well.. if that’s not the case, that’s too bad, then..” his voice is now bordering a sultry, seductive tone.

Your eyebrows scrunch, your confusion obvious on your face,”How- how so?”

He quirks a brow at your curiosity, a grin overtaking the smirk. He takes a moment, seemingly deciding if he wants to keep teasing you or just be out with it.

He deliberately lets his gaze trail down your front, tracing every detail, taking in every ripple of the university's uniform. He brings his gaze back up to your face, lingering over your lips.

He quirks up an eyebrow, waiting.

You inhale sharply, cheeks warming even more so, coming to the blatantly obvious realization that he was openly checking you out.

There’s a long pause, followed by him taking a few steps back to lean against the teachers desk. He rests his cane against the side, looking back at you before beckoning you with a quirk of his fingers.

It’s like a command you’d been praying for- you step forward so quick, hands coming up to cup his gorgeously sculpted face before you’re tugging him down to meet your kiss, clumsy at first but desperation obvious.

He’s just as desperate, hands pawing down the back of your vest, cupping around your waist firmly.

You release a shaky moan against his lips, leaning into him as he takes charge of the kiss, licking at the seam of your lips and invading your mouth. One of his hands come back up to cup the side of your jaw, tilting your head back.

You brace yourself, palms pressing down on either side of him on the desk, only to jump and pull back at the loud clang of his cane hitting the floor.

He huffs out a soft laugh, cupping your cheek again and tugging you back in, tongue pressing into your mouth.

“Mmph-“ You moan against him, pawing down his front before carefully unbuttoning the top buttons of his vest.

“Eager, are we?” He says once he pulls back from the kiss, lips now slightly red.

“Shut up-“ You huff in annoyance, but you’re stopped when he grabs your wrists.

“That’s not very nice.. is it?” He hums, eyes darkened with lust as he gazes down at you.

Your cheeks flush, swallowing thickly before rasping a soft,”Sorry-“

”Sorry for what?”

You’re surprised even more so, mouth agape in confusion.

“You must be so used to always getting what you wanted, hm?” He gently but firmly cups your chin, tugging you closer, teasingly brushing his lips against yours,”What are you sorry for, Princess?”

You chase, but he holds you firmly, ensuring you’re not able to get what you want. You whine softly, pleadingly looking up at him but he remains stoic, now, a disappointed look in his eyes.

You swallow thickly,”I’m- uh.. I’m sorry for telling you to shut up-“

”Very good,” He praises, and your thighs clench beneath the long skirt of your uniform.

He grabs your chin, tugging you back in for another heated kiss before pulling back to unbutton your vest. You get the message, unbuttoning his as well and helping him out of it before shrugging yours off.

“Gorgeous,” he murmurs in praise as he helps unbutton your shirt, sliding it down your shoulders, his hands gently tracing down your arms, goosebumps following soon after.

You shake it off, cheeks flushed as you undo his tie and unbutton the first few buttons of his dress shirt, but leaving it on to admire his disheveled look.

“Enjoying the view?” He teases, beckoning you back in.

You roll your eyes but follow his call, sighing with bliss when he cups the side of your neck, fingers lacing into your hair to tilt your head to press kisses down your throat.

His touch sends heat through your body, your thighs tense beneath your skirt. You inhale sharply as his fingers unhook the back of your bra, carefully slipping the straps down your shoulders- your nipples harden in the cool air and it's almost like you can see his gaze darken.

His touch is careful, moving his hand from your hip up, up over your ribs to cup the underside of your breast and thumb over your hardened nipple.

He huffs softly,”To think- all this strife and annoyance could've been avoided..” He smirks and pinches your nipple, reveling in your soft yelp,”If we would’ve talked sooner..”

“Please,” you rasp softly, hands fumbling as you grip over his ribs, pawing at lean muscle and soft skin.

“Oh? Begging sounds so nice coming from your lips,” he praises softly.

You huff, leaning in to chase his mouth but he just chuckles at your eagerness, burrowing his fingers into your hair and tugging just right, a whimper escaping your throat.

“Please, what, princess?” He coos, tilting his head and giving you a lust filled look in his honey brown eyes.

You struggle to form words, licking your lips before finally managing to beg,”Touch me-“

“You’ve got to be specific, gorgeous, how am I supposed to know where?” He firmly cups your tit, nipple hard in his palm,”Here? Or..”

His knee suddenly presses between your legs, grinding into your clothed cunt.

“Mmmph- Oh, ahh-“ you whine, eyes fluttering.

“I’m almost tempted to make you get off like this, Princess,” He smirks, kissing your temple almost fondly, feeling immensely intimate,”But.. I’m not cruel.”

He disconnects from you, sliding over to the teachers chair as he uses the desk for stability, before beckoning you over and again, under his spell, you follow without hesitation.

He grips your hips, pushing you back against the desk and guiding one leg up onto the arm of the chair he sits in. He kisses the inside of your knee and you inhale shakily, stabilizing yourself against the desk with a white knuckled grip over the edge. His hands bring your skirt up, bunching up around your waist as he ushers you to lay against the desk.

He whistles teasingly, eyes lighting up as he sees the mess of wetness between your legs,”I haven’t even started, princess..”

“Don’t- don’t tease me,” you murmur in embarrassment, averting your gaze as warmth covers your cheeks.

“But you’re so fun to tease,” he coos, bringing the chair closer to kiss your inner thigh,”Take them off for me?”

You narrow your gaze, only to stop when he raises his eyebrow. Despite the embarrassment, it seems your need for him outweighs it, so you carefully shimmy your underwear off, not missing that he grabs them and stuffs them into his pocket- when you also spot his tented trousers.

“Spread them,” he taps your thighs.

You listen. Of course you do, almost like you were hypnotized by his voice and he can’t help the smirk almost permanently etched into his lips.

“Good girl,” he praises, petting your outer thighs and pressing a soft kiss to the soft skin inside, lingering as he groans from your scent.

He trails his hand up your other thigh, spreading you further before his thumb brushes over your swollen clit.

You squeak, releasing a shaky moan when he grins and rubs his thumb over it softly, not enough to get you off but enough to have you needy and whimpering for more.

“So greedy,” he murmurs against the skin of your inner thigh.

“Viktor- please,” you beg, gripping the edge of the desk with a pleading look in your eyes.

He chuckles, but decides to not tease, instead choosing to spread your folds with a pleased groan at the slick glistening on your cunt. He prods, allowing your slick to wet his fingers before looking up at you.

“Tell me to stop whenever, ok, Princess?”

You nod shakily, warmth gathering in your chest.

“Use your words, now..”

”Yes- I will, Viktor,” you stammer softly, chest heaving at his command.

He nods his approval, carefully pressing his pointer finger into your heat, groaning at the vice-like grip he’s greeted with. You open up so beautifully for him, gummy walls welcoming him almost greedily.

You huff, whining softly before slumping against the desk with a squirm of your hips, almost trying to pull him in more.

He pulls his finger back, then presses back in more, up to his knuckle, getting you used to the stretch. He listens to your soft, airy moans with a satisfied grin.

He presses another finger in, curling both upwards and gently pulling back just to press in harder, other hand holding you down flat against your stomach, thumb rubbing over your clit with precision.

Of course he’s a natural, you think to yourself with a huff before a moan is almost punched out of you as the pads of his fingers press something inside of you. You lift your head, dazed, as you peer at him only to groan at the self satisfied smirk on his mouth.

He sucks a mark into your thigh, speeding up his fingers and thumb, listening to you moan louder and longer, babbling nonsense and repeated pleads.

“Please- oh, don’t stop-“ You beg, head shaking back and forth against the desk.

“You sound so good, all desperate,” he coos, thrusting his fingers into you faster gradually,”Makes me wonder how you’ll feel riding me.”

You moan out loud at the imagery, your walls tighten up around his fingers and he groans, nipping into your thigh.

He keeps at it, grinding his fingers into you faster and harder as you gasp, whine and squirm against the desk. You babble, tears of pleasure pricking your eyes as you feel yourself getting closer and closer to that crest.

“Please- please, oh-“ you moan, back arching into his hands.

“You’ve been so good for me,” he praises,”I think you deserve a treat.”

He removes his thumb from your clit and you almost groan angrily only to yelp in pleasure as his mouth seals over the sensitive bud. He flicks his tongue over it, circling and sucking until you shriek out a moan, sure to have echoed around the empty class as you find your release.

After the mind numbing orgasm, followed by him licking your slick from your folds and his fingers, he pats the outside of your thigh to get your attention.

“C’mon, princess,” he coos.

You tiredly sit up from the desk, peering down at him as he sits back with a cocky smirk.

He points to a button on the inside of the desk,”Did you know that I was the one that installed the new locks to Professor Daughtry’s class? He requested that a secret button be placed on his desk that only he should know about- to unlock it, of course,” He tilts his head,”Sure, there’s a key that he carries, but there are perks to being one of the students he likes.."

He lifts a lone key after grabbing it from his pocket.

You raise your brow in confusion.

“We won’t be bothered at all,” he smirks, a lustful glint in his gaze as he scoots that chair back with his good leg before unbuckling his belt. He taps the floor with his foot,”Show me what else your mouth is good for.”

—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—

A/N: got some more im working on!!

[bunnwis]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫

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

read on ao3

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

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

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

￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣

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

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

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

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

　　　　　　　　 　　***

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

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

　　　　　　　　 　　***

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

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

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

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

“You need not suffer anymore.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[luca-just-luca]

Evolve

1k words

Viktor x gn reader

Synopsis: you get initiated into Viktor’s glorious group of salvation.

Contains: lots of details about Viktor’s hex-hand, Czech Viktor, pet names, gn reader. No body type, race, or gender specified at all.

Translations: Drahý: Dear

To dobrý ono dobrý Drahý: it’s okay, it’s alright dear.

Ano: Yes

You feel something cold and flinch, pulling away and standing up straight.

“I-I’m sorry”

A soft chuckle comes from the man standing before you as he waves his hand dismissively.

“It’s alright, I understand why you’re nervous. This is the ehh most usual of activities no?”

You give a shy smile and nod in agreement. True, it wasn’t a particularly normal event to be in this sort of situation, or place. On the inner rims of Zaun, standing before this mage. Half machine half man, he bore kind eyes and a toothy smile-though crooked teeth were hidden behind thin lips as he offered a soft smile of sympathy.

You fidget with your fingers taking a deep breath, finding the floor beneath you suddenly more appealing than the man before you. Despite understanding the circumstances weren’t of the norm, you still felt ashamed for getting scared again. Sure it was only the second time-but it was just a hand. You redirected your gaze, heart rate mellowing as you looked at his hand that he’d pulled back from you. Resting it on his staff, you watched as it settled. Deformed yet beautiful, dark and yet saturated it almost seemed like his hand wasn’t his own-but under his control. It was odd in shape, like when molten glass meets cool water it was abstract yet organic. Glimmers of violet seeping through highlighting his knuckles, and running down to where it met flesh.

Viktor was beautiful, despite how he may see himself you saw a handsome man with an admirable goal. A goal you were happy to be apart of, so why was this so scary?

“Drahý?”

“Hm?”

You looked up again, meeting his eyes this time. His head was tilted slightly to the right, eyes narrowed like he was analyzing you. Focused and determined, you stared back-seeing if you could find anything of who he used to be buried beneath those honeyed eyes.

“I have an idea”

“Yes?”

“Would you like to touch me first? Condition yourself to the feeling in a familiar way before we try again?"

“..yes I. I do think that would help.”

He nods, expression softening. And extends his hand outwards, with his palm up an invitation to hold his hand. You accept, gently setting your hand in his. Your breath hitches as your fingertips find where skin meets inoraganic material. Gently gliding your hand from the base of his palm to his fingertips. The texture feels almost leathery, though corse. Like the feeling of a stone smoothed out by the tides, smooth yet corse in its own way. He was cold-but not freezing. The shimmering violet that ran through his hand, almost like blood in veins glimmered as you pulled your hand back more, as he pushed his fingers upwards. Gently holding your hand as he ran his thumb over forefinger and pinkie. Almost engulfing the rest of your hand entirely. You inhale sharply, suddenly realizing you forgot to breathe and he snickers.

“See? Despite appearances it’s absolutely sa-“

“You’re beautiful”

You blurt out, looking at him with certainty. But the confidence you had crumbles the moment his kind smile melts into a slight smirk. His eyes no longer narrow out of assessment. Your attention snaps back down to his hand.

“Your-your hands I mean. They-I’m not scared because of the way your hand looks. I just am not used to being grabbed by the face and and this type of initiation into things”

“What sort of initiation are you accustomed to?”

You shrug

“Welcome to the team? I guess?”

He scoffs, pull his hand away from you and you have to stop yourself from following it.

“Are we ready to try again?”

“Yeah. Yeah we are..”

“Good.”

You bow your head slightly, closing your eyes. You hear his staff clank for a moment as he steps closer into your space, the smell of oils and metal becoming more prominent. There’s nothing for a moment, and the outstretched silence begins to make you worry. Until something cold presses against your forehead, you flinch-but your eyes remain closed. He chides, accent heavy in a hushed whisper.

“Chh schh to dobrý ono dobrý Drahý

Although his language is foreign, it does give you assurance in an odd way. You try to relax as you feel his fingers press against your face, goosebumps forming as you adjust to the temperature. A faint humming is heard than a whirling sound of something, you squeeze your eyes shut as you feel his fingers push further into your skin. Light flashes behind your closed eyes, and suddenly you become morbidly aware of every bone in your body. Every muscle that’s at work keeping your eyes shut, you’re freezing and burning at once-are you shouting? You can’t hear-can’t see but this feeling it’s visceral. Like you’re being corrupted and cleansed at the same time. Like years of rot and decay that have tied you down finally are swept free, and flowers are pushing their way through your skin to start anew. And just before it becomes too much, it’s over.

You can’t tell your eyes are open, white still bleaching your vision as you blink away tears. You’re no longer standing, no you’re on the floor-your legs hurt-your knees maybe? Something hurts, you’re resting against something cold, but something warmer cradles the back of your head nestling in your hair.

“You did so well.”

Color finally comes back, you’re looking at one of the high walls of his Sanctum. Your fingers twitch, energy still flowing inside of you. You try to respond, to muster up anything close to a word but all that comes out is a confused huff and a breathy whine.

“Shhh shh…it’s okay. You’re okay..you’re one of us now ano?”

Exhaustion and a state of bliss suddenly wash over you. Like you’ve just ran a marathon and fallen into bed for the first time in days. You can feel something metal on your cheek, somewhere on his chest or arm. It was grounding in an odd way, and you could feel him pull back some loose strands of your hair.

“Welcome to salvation drahý”

[jazziejax]

𝐂𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐢’𝐬 𝐋𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐛𝐲

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 - The aftermath of the rebellion told from a different perspective. How a small family was ripped apart in the matter of seconds and their lives were never the same again.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - wounds, death, blood, stabbing, crying, panic attacks, anxiety, magic if that’s spooky to you, screaming, and all around distress. I never really know what to but in this section honestly.

𝐉𝐚𝐳𝐳𝐢𝐞’𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 - Is this another fic that will probably become a series that I won’t finish? Jaybe, jaybe not. But if you’ve been looking for me, know that I have chapters written for my other fics, I just needed to take a break due to finals week and the distraught I went through with the show Arcane, hence why I’m writing this now. Also, I stayed up until 3am writing this, not don’t mind the mistakes, I tortured myself and cried. Sorry for any spelling or grammatical errors!!! ALSO, this is sort of an OC fic but it can be read as reader. I try to stray away from too much description because I don’t think I’m that good at it, but I only write in OC format because it’s easier for me to visualize and write what I want you to see. I should really get into 1st and 2nd person wiring more often.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 - 5,491

“Darling, I’d wait for you, even if you don’t ask me to.” Chimed shakily over the muffled sounds of screaming and explosions. “Tie a lasso around the moon, and bring it on down, for you.” The voice quivered, and her grip intensified when the sounds of explosions became closer to where the children hid.

“I’d bottle the feelin’ you give and shelve that stuff for years to come.” The smaller child, wrapped in her sister’s arms, could feel the wet drops of the other girls' tears hitting the exposed nape of her neck. She had her face stuffed within the crook of the older girl's neck, trying to focus solely on the sound of the soothing song and her racing heart. They softly swayed, trying their best to soothe themselves and the other as the chaos outside continued. They were tucked into the corner of a home that wasn’t theirs, only there to wait for their parents to get back from their part of the rebellion.

“Cause baby when your arms are around me, I’d swear I’m holding the sun.” She continued to sing, the smaller girl chiming in at the end as she righted her grip. The older girl only moved her grip from her sister’s back to wipe away the stray tears running down her face.

“I’d give you the sun if you asked me. You could have all of the time.” The older sang, getting slightly choked up when she saw glimpses of light and shadows through the window near the door, in perfect timing with gunshots and bombs. “You could have the stars and the trees when dividing up the universe...” She trailed off, taking the necessary pauses within the tempo of the lullaby, but also because she needed to breathe to calm her racing heart.

She rubbed the back of the slightly smaller girl's head, moving up in the motion of the get black bun at the top of her head. She tucked them more into the corner, her back itching from the old, moldy, wood and rusted nails that dug into her skin. The only indicator was that this was a real. That this nightmare was her reality.

“You could have mine. You could have mine.” The girls sing at the same time, both of their eyes closed as they envisioned the chorus being sung in the melodic and comforting voice of their mother. The eldest couldn’t hold it in anymore. As choked herself on a sob as she fluted her sister, leaning her ear back into the corner. She tried to stop the tears rolling down her face, eyes clenched and her teeth gritted.

The younger girl didn’t really know what do to for her aching sister, all while trying to heal her own pain that she was unsure of having in the first place. So she just held her righter, reassuring her that she was there, even though she couldn’t do much. Her face stayed in the crook of the girl's neck, the only sense of comfort was the smokey scent of poppy flowers her sister always held from her taking the pair to roll in the Piltover flower fields at night.

All the older girl could do to soothe the pair was to continue to hum the song, tried from the constant state of worrying she’d been in for what felt like hours. Her head was still headed back as she held her sister, the pair drifting off into an exhausted but unwanted slumber.

The small sense of comfort didn’t last long, for the youngest at least. She rose her head from the girl's neck, her ears no longer muffled from the contact. She couldn’t hear much, which was good considering the stark contrast of the sound of war that was previously raging beyond those doors.

But what wasn’t good was that her parents weren’t back yet.

She raised herself more, her sister’s arms dropping from her sides and onto the dust-ridden ground as she moved.

“Maggie.” The younger girl whispered, looking at her older sister, who didn’t react. “Maggie.” She said again, the some leaning closer and giving her the finest nudge, to not make too much noise.

Still nothing.

She sighed, decking that the girl had to be exhausted from all the anxiety that riddled them not long ago. She then just decided to rise from her sister’s legs, which were probably relieved to be relaxed from her weight.

Her knees popped as she stood, releasing tension from being in that fetal position for so long. She shook off her jacket, laying it on top of the girl's sleeping form to fill in for the warmth she was leaving.

She then turned around, slowly stepping towards the window near the front door. She hid behind the wall, trying to not put her whole body into the frame of the glass as she analyzed the state outside. She couldn’t see much, fire and smoke fogging the glass and sky. She sighed, glancing back at her sleeping sister. She could see the streets as even getting to her in her sleep, a permanent frown over her features as she dreamed.

She needed to find their parents.

“I’ll be right back, Maggie.” She sighed, her hands clenched as her heart began to race. “I have to find mom and dad.” She said.

She jumped before placing her hand on the door knock, the rusted metal was slightly warm due to the fire that lurked nearby. She then slowly opened the door, the wood and metal surprisingly quiet, not that any could hear her over the cracking of everything burning. But it was good to be safe.

She closed the door behind her, stepping onto the damp mud that seemed to grow from the fissures. Her boots made no sound as she lurked her way through the smoke. She brought her shirt up to cover her nose as she began to slightly cough, her eyes stinging. She shivered slightly, her bare arms and hole-filled pants not doing much to provide warmth.

She only let out small coughs as she made her way through the murky area, glancing at piles of…she didn’t know what, she couldn’t see that well. She decided not to dwell on it much, only trying to make her way to the bridge she knew her parents would be at.

That's where they said they’d be.

She waved smoke out of her face as she walked only minutes away, coming into a better clearing. She was only about ten feet away from the only thing separating Zaun and Piltover when she saw it.

Bodies.

She sucked in a breath at the sight of them. There were flames everywhere, the ones on this end not being put out by the equipped enforcers.

Her eyes were no longer watering just from the sting of the smoke.

Bodies lay around the ground surrounded by the entrance near the structure. Bodies of people she knew, people she saw within her town. The woman from the brothel who used to come to her mom for cosmetics. The man from the food stand that gave them free fruit and bread if their dad would make his famous fruit pastries. The elderly couple that used to sit around and tell fascinating tales to the children, takes that she only hoped were true. She saw kids her age and older, people she used to play with near the stream.

Bodies that looked too familiar. Dressed in their usual bright colors.

“No, no, no, no, no, no, no.” She uttered as she ran into the bridge, only briefly dodging being brunt from the flames around her, feeling the heat on her skin. Closer to their side, lay the familiar figures of her parents. Her breaths began ragged and she sunk to her knees near them, tears streaming down her face. “No, no, no, no, no. Mama, Papa, no.” She cried as she shook them. “Come on, get up.” Shaking them vigorously.

Her mind was scattered, deciding to work on them one at a time. She moves over to her father, who later on his stomach, facing away from her. “Come on, Papa, you have to get up.” She said through the tears streaming down her face. “You have to up for us, please.” She begged.

She received not even an inkling of a response, causing the girl to sob. She placed her head onto his back, breathing in his pinewood scent that was now mixed with the smell of smoke. She sobbed into his blue shirt, leaving stains of snot, spit, and tears from her gut-wrenching sobs.

Her mind ran a mile a minute, the girl continued to cry as she moved over to her mom, the woman lay on her stomach, looking up at the stars. Her hand was covering a wound she had had in her abdomen, a fancy knife sticking out. A Piltover Enforcer knife. “Please Mama, you have to make it. Please!” The girl sobbed louder, moving to place her hand over her mom’s, her smaller hand getting slicked with the woman’s blood. She was in the state of grieving her father while she tried to care for all she had left.

She could feel the shallow breath the woman took with her hand on her abdomen. She had a little hope.

“Please Mama, please! You have to hang on for me.” She cried, placing her head on the woman’s chest. She got no answer in response to the sobs that racked through her body, but she could hear her faint heartbeat.

What she couldn’t hear was the sound of boots smacking against the pavement, making their way closer to her.

Maggie let out an uncomfortable groan as she raised her head. She brought her hand up as she twisted her neck, trying to alleviate the pain she now had from napping with her head back.

In doing so, the jacket that blocked her from the cold nature of Zaun hit her like a brick. But it wasn’t the freezing air that she was focused on.

It was the missing body of her sister.

She immediately jumped up from her sitting position, unstable from just waking up and her tired legs having not moved since the weight of her sister was on them. “Dessa?” She called out, looking around the small, abandoned house. She got no answer.

She moved to look around any part of the home the girl could be in, the old home creaking and dark. And her sister was nowhere to be found. She then looked at the front door, noticing the smallest crack left by the girl leaving. And her heart dropped.

She rushed to swing the door open, not caring to be discreet like they planned as she looked for her little sister. “Odessa?” She called out, looking through the smoke and flames that surrounded her. No response.

She drew in a hiss as tears started to prick her eyes, not knowing what to do. She couldn’t care less about all the smoke she was inhaling due to her fast breathing, or the smoke that stung her eyes.

All she wanted to do was find her family.

“Odessa!” She moved around in the smoke, calling out for the girl. Her feet were frantic as she dodged flames. Her sporadic movements and racing thoughts caused her to trip over something, falling head-first into the muddy ground. She glanced down at what caught her ankle, her breath getting caught in her throat as she gazed into the bead eyes of someone. She let out a small yelp as she backed away from the body, trying her best to get to her feet.

She stumbled on her way up, her eyes jumping to everything around her, taking in nothing but bodies and flames. Her heart raced as her eyes darted every which way. She was too in shock to even cry, but she could feel her heart contort within the confines of her chest as panic began to set in. The thought of her whole family being gone.

She trudged through the heat, trying to catch a glimpse of even the smallest of movements as she looked for her family. “Mama, Papa!” She screamed. “Odessa, please! Where are you!” She knew she was taking a risk by being so loud, especially when someone dangerous could be lurking anywhere. But she didn’t care. That only meant that maybe she’d be put out of her misery and join the ones she lost, or that her family would have to grieve her, but at least they’d be together.

Her breathing was more than labored, it was short and skipping. Her eyes were frantic when she caught something not far away from her. She could see a tall figure move through the smoke. She inched forward, trying to see through the glass that was blocking her vision. She was only feet away when she saw the back of an enforcer. She was moving his way in on something with his gun pointed.

She watched, trying to see what he was seeing until her eyes caught the familiar yellow, baggy pants on the ground not far away from him. And she stopped breathing altogether.

Odessa snapped her head up when she heard the gravel under his boots, making eye contact with the dark glasses of the enforcer had mask. She gritted her teeth, rage filling her at the sight of him. “You did this!” She yelled, not caring for the gun aimed at her. Whoever was behind the mask hesitated the moment her eyes met theirs, as if they were taking in the scene of it all.

“You did this and you’re gonna pay! Your whole bloodline will! All of you Pilte scum!” She screamed in rage, moving to the knife lodged in her mother’s side. She didn’t want to remove it, but she’d rather this officer die at her hands for the sake of her mother than die with no revenge.

Maggie heard it all and watched the scene in shock. She could see the dead bodies of her family from where she stood and her sister was about to die. But she couldn’t grieve now. Grieving was a luxury she didn’t have at this time.

So she looked around her, spotting a machete some dead Zaunite held as they marched into battle. She didn’t think before ripping the blade out of their hands. She was immediately running to her sister, trying to save the only family she had left.

“ODESSA!” She belted as she ran, catching both of their attention. The distraught girl looked over at her sister while the Enforcer eyed the girl running their way. She was moving at an insane speed, a sharp blade in her hands and fury written on her face. See the woman, the officer moved to aim their gun and the charging girl, but she was too close. Her sister’s eyes widened, watching the movements they both took. “Magnolia, no!” She screamed. But she was too late.

She plunged the blade into their chest, just as a gunshot sounded.

Things seemed to be more silent than ever, birds squawking and flying off due to the surprise of the loud sounds. The cracking of the flames seemed to drown out all around them, the sound was the gasping coming from the enforcer. Maggie’s breathing was still labored as she pulled the long blade out, causing the enforcer to choke on their blood, before she plunged it back into their heart, causing the body to fall.

They collapsed backward, practically sliding off the knife in her tight grip. She heaved as she watched them fall, a pool of blood beginning to surround them. Odessa removed her hands from her ears and opened her eyes, her eyes moving to the form of her sister before her. She glanced at the body but far away from them before looking back at her family.

Maggie snapped out of her head, moving to kneel on the other side of their parents. She looked her sister in the eye, with different expressions but both full of grief and despair. Magnolia looked over at the still body of their father before glancing back at Odessa, who silently shook her head, tears still streaming down her face. The older girl closed her eyes, trying to stop the pain that twisted within her heart as one tear slipped past her lids and slid down her cheek. “Okay, okay.” She breathed, her hands shaking as she tried to soothe herself in such a situation. She looked down at her mother, seeing the shallow breaths the woman her taking as the knife moved within her abdomen. Her eyes moved from the stars above to look between her two daughters.

“You’re gonna be okay, Mama,” Magnolia said shakily, placing her hands on the woman’s chest. “I’m gonna make sure you’re okay. You’re gonna make it, okay?” Her voice quivered. Her hands moved from the comforting grasp on her chest to the knife in her side. Her eyes were frantic, looking between her mother’s face and her shallow breaths. She didn’t really know what to do and the panic was becoming worse. “Okay. Okay. Okay, I’m gonna save you, okay? I’m gonna make sure everything is okay. Everything is gonna be alright.” She rambled, her eyes trained on the knife that stuck out of the woman. She placed her hands on the handle of the blade, her grip tight but also trying not to apply or alleviate any pressure.

“Okay. Okay. Okay.” She took deep breaths, her eyes jumping from the wound to her mother’s face to her father's dead body. She didn’t know what her next move was going to be but before she could make it, a bloody hand was placed over hers. “Maggie.” Her sister whispered, causing the girl to look up at her. She didn’t meet Odessa’s eyes, which were trained downward.

She followed her gaze, her eyes landing on the blood flowing from the bullet wound in her stomach. She sucked in a breath, watching it seep through her thin clothing. She looked back up, seeing the tears stroll down her sister’s face as she began to shake her head, realizing that she was losing all her family in one fell swoop. “Maggie, no.” She cried.

Magnolia shook her head, scooting forward on her knees to place her hand on the side of her sister’s face. “No, no.” She said, shaking her head as she continued to breathe funny, which they knew didn’t know if it was due to the nerves of everything or the bullet. “Look at me, Dessa. Look at me.” She said softly, her jumpy eyes looking between the glistening ones of her sister. “You will be fine, do you hear me? You and Mama will be fine. I’m going to make sure, okay?” She said, her breaths starting to become shorter than they originally were. Odessa couldn’t believe her, her head shaking as she watched the person she loved wither in front of her.

“Yes, it will, Dessa,” Magnolia said firmly. “Yes it will and you have to be strong for you and Mama, okay?”

“Don’t talk like that, Maggie. Don’t!” The younger girl cried.

“Okay, Dess, okay.” She sighed. She then placed her lips against her forehead, letting the kiss linger before she released her grip on the slightly younger girl. She then placed her hands back on the wound of their mother, who could only watch as tears clouded her eyes. Magnolia couldn’t look at her mother, her gaze focused solely on the wound, catching glimpses of her own as she breathed. “It’s gonna hurt for a bit, Mom, but you’re strong. I’m so sorry, okay?” She didn’t waste time for an answer she knew she wasn’t going to receive before pulling out the knife. She frantically put her hands over it to stop the blood while the woman groaned, causing the girl to clench her eyes shut as if to stop the sounds from entering her ears. Odessa grabbed the knife, hurriedly cutting off a piece of her own shirt and handing it to her sister.

Maggie took it, placing the fabric over to wounds to soak up the blood. She clenched her jaw as she stuffed it in only a smidge, causing the woman to groan again. Magnolia bit her lips, tears rolling down her eyes at the sound of pain coming from the woman. Odessa’s tears never stopped, the girl moving to cradle her mother’s head into her lap, doing her best to provide comfort.

“Darlin’ I wish that you could give me some more time.” Odessa began, her voice quivering as she gazed into her mother’s eyes, singing the song. “To herd the whole sky in my arms and release it when you’re mine.” She tried her best to sing. The woman gazed up at her, a sliver of a smile gracing her lips as she looked lovingly into her daughter’s eyes.

“I'd tell you, "I thought I loved you too" I just didn't have the words to say.” Magnolia chimed in, her eyes trained on the wound that wasn’t stopping its gushing. “I'd put the piece in your backyard, in hopes to be enough for you to stay.” She breathed out, suddenly becoming tired. She placed her head onto her mother’s lap, still applying pressure with the fabric that was becoming slacked in blood. Her other hand tried to find her mother's bloody one, the woman able to flex her fingers around hers, feeling the connection between them.

“I'd give you the sun if you asked me.” They both continued, the younger girl not taking her eyes off the woman who started to blink slower and slower.

“You could have all of the time. You could have the stars and the trees when dividin' up the universe.” She sobbed, seeing the light in the woman’s eyes go out. “No, no, no. Mom, please.” She sobbed.

“You could have mine. You could have mine.” Magnolia continued to sing, drowning out the sound of her sister pleading for the life to stop leaving their mother. Her breaths started to become shorter, and her blinking became slower as she covered the wound, her other hand playing with the fingers of her mother. She closed her eyes, too tired to open them back up. Blood seeped from her wing onto the group next to her mom, connecting to the woman’s hand. Magnolia clenched her jaw, focused solely on feeling the connection between her and her mother, their fingers intertwined as blood seeped between the creases of their being. “You could have mine. You could have mine.” She continued to sing as best as she could, her voice trailing off.

Sobs racked through the younger, her eyes looking between all the of her family laid before her. “No, please! Please don’t leave me!” She cried, looking at them. “Please don’t leave me here! I want to go with you, please!” She sobbed. She held her mother's head, softly rubbing the side of her face before looking up at the sky. “Take me with them, please! Don’t leave me here!” She yelled. All that came was a gust of wind, pushing the smell of her family’s blood and smoke into her nostrils. She sobbed at that, leaning down to place her forehead against her mother’s, tears streaming down her face. “Please.” She said softly.

It was silent for a moment, nothing being heard but the girl's pitiful sobs as she clutched all that she had in this world.

Her eyes were closed when she felt the heat of something near her. She glanced up, catching a light emitting from her sister. The girl lay on her mother, emoting a soft, golden glow that seemed to slowly intensify. She blinked, looking at the girl in confusion.

“Maggie?” She asked timidly. She could’ve sworn she heard a soft and angelic hum come from the glow at her voice, but she couldn’t dwell on it before she watched in astonishment as the glow seeped onto the person she had contact with. The older woman in her lap hummed with a soft glow of her own. The light dimmed within Magnolia as the power transferred, causing the mother to emit the same shine.

And then it went away. Odessa sat there in shock, not knowing what to do.

A gasp ripped through the woman in her lap, her eyes blinking rapidly as she gazed up at her daughter. Odessa immediately burst into tears again, looking down at the woman. “Mama!” She cried, hugging the woman in her position. The older woman placed her head next to her daughters, taking in deep breaths as she felt the breathing and okay girl next to her. “Oh, my sweet child.” She said softly, rubbing her daughter’s head. Odessa seemed to cry harder at her mother’s voice, clutching onto the woman.

The pair held each other for minutes, baking in what they both knew. She died, but now she was back again. She felt the life leave her, felt the pain take over her in her last moments. Odessa saw her eyes become dull as she stopped breathing. But now here she was, breathing perfectly fine, in no pain as she clutched onto her baby.

After only moments of relief, the woman sat up with her daughter's help. She stopped, however at the sight before her. Her eldest daughter and her husband lay, no sign of life.

She saw what happened to her husband. She was there when a piece of rubble fell on him. But that didn’t make the sight of half her life being gone any better. Tears streamed down her face as she looked between the two. Her daughter lay with her head in her lap, trying to gain comfort from her mother in both of their last moments. The woman sobbed, bending down to hold the girl closest to her. “My poor baby.” She cried, clutching onto the lifeless body of the girl.

Odessa stood behind her, her eyes clenched shut at the sound of her mother’s sobs. She couldn’t fathom the sight anymore. The sight of her mother clutching her sister who was now dead.

Dead because of me. She thought.

She doesn’t know what was worse, having to live with the guilt that her mother lost something she loved due to her, or losing her whole family before her. She placed her head into her hands, facing away from the disgust of her now-gone father, sister, and best friend. Her hands were placed over her ears to drown the sounds of everything out, the only thing she could hear was the sound of thoughts.

You did this.

You shouldn’t have left that room.

This is your fault.

Your own sister.

She’s dead because of you.

She’s dead because of you.

She’s dead because of you.

She’s dead because of you.

She’s dead because of you!

She jumped at the feeling of hands on her shoulder, causing the girl to look up. Her eyes connected with the soft and loving gaze of her mother. The girl immediately jumped into her embrace. “I’m sorry.”Sobs racked through her aggressively. “I’m so sorry, Mama!” She cried. She was so exhausted that she was not sure if she even had tears left to cry, just dry heaving into the woman’s embrace. “It’s all my fault.”

“It’s not honey.” The woman said softly, lifting the small preteen into her arms. “It’s not your fault. It’s not.” She said. But Odessa wasn’t hearing her, clothing onto the woman as she looked at her sister's figure over her mother's shoulder. “I’m so sorry. I’m so, so, sorry.” She continued to cry, not sure who she was speaking to now.

“It’s okay, my love. It’s okay.” The woman said. “We’re going to make it better.” She reassured herself as well, gazing down at the dead enforcer not far from them. She clenched her jaw before moving to grab the machete from the ground. She shored her lasting family in her one arm, looking at the more chaos around them. “Everything will be okay from here on. For me and you. Our family. For us.” She said. Odessa could only nod into the woman’s neck, finding it hard to speak now.

The woman began to move, making her way back home. She stopped at the sound of footsteps behind her, the blade clenched within her hands tightly, ready to defend.

But all that emerged was the familiar figure of the buff man she knew well. He paused at the sight of them, taking in the sight of her stature. The single girl she held with a weapon in her hands.

Vader held the small bodies of two girls, looking back at her. No weeds were changed between the pair, Greg filling their gazes as they took in all they needed to. He nodded at her, and she did the same before the pair walked away together, back to the place they knew as home.

It was quiet. The dark sky still loomed with the aftermath of the rebellion, smoke and red flames filling the area. The bridge was in disarray, broken and disheveled. A tall figure walked down the bridge, into the flames and bodies that surrounded it.

His heavy staff clinked against the metal ground as he passed every other body that littered the hellscape. That was until he made it to the end, and he gazed down at the small figure that lay near her father, a pool of blood that wasn’t all hers surrounded her.

The figure seemed to hesitate, looking at the familiar face that had no life. It was haunting, even for someone such as themselves.

The being then began to wave its staff around, intensifying the wind around him and the girl. Smoke and flames were caught in the magic that surrounded them. The girl's hair was blowing in the wind, her soft glow coming back. Then, runes popped up all around him. It seemed as if he deciphered between different symbols as he kept swinging the staff. Suddenly, a gem appeared in his hand, unscripted with a symbol. When he was essentially making a flame tornado around the pair, he then slammed his staff down, the sound echoing throughout the area.

A magical aura surrounded the girl, her golden glow intensifying as it glitched between that and a soft blue. The aura around her hummed, wind billowing through the expanse of the land as glowed, ruffing the robe the magical being wore. She started to change before his eyes, her dark brown hair lightening a bit as other bits turned a stark white. Her wound healed before him, before she suddenly gasped, her eyes shooting open. The golden glow she once emitted seeped into her from her bullet wounds, tracing its way up her body. The glow shined through her, showing as it came up to her throat and out of her mouth, and floated above her. It rose higher and higher, drifting to meet with the stars before suddenly moving back down, plunging through her and into her heart.

The magic around her left, and the girl suddenly fell from the air, not before the being caught her within his arms. She was unconscious when he gazed down upon her, her mouth open as she let out small snores into the fabric that he was wearing. He held onto her, gazing down at her anew.

He then began moving to the bridge again, the girl cradled in his arms. He held her as he traveled through the city of Piltover until he came upon a familiar building. He softly placed her onto the hard pavement in front of the door, moving to take off one of his scarves and place it under the girl's head. He then placed the rune bead held within her hand, closing her fist around it. He gave a soft pat to her hands before ringing the doorbell to the home.

He offered the girl on last longe gaze before suddenly disappearing.

The grand door creaked open, the small creature immediately looking at the girl lying before his doorstep, while a smaller creature yipped next to him. He glanced around for others, his eyes not ears catching sight of anyone else lurking near.

“Hmm.” The Yordle said. “Now how do I bring you inside?” He questioned himself, one of his small fingers tapping his chin.

Let me know if you cry, I tried to make it sad. I was so sad last night writing this that I had to make the mother live, I couldn’t do it. She probably won’t make it though.

[xetlynn]

So I saw that your requests were open and just wanted to request a little something. Idk why this came to mind but could you make something angsty between hospital friend! Viktor x fem!reader. When they first meet it’s purely by coincidence and as they grow older they get closer, but reader’s health deteriorates more and more due to their diagnosis. By the time they both were going to confess it was too late. This can be set in a modern AU or not. Thank you!!

(God im such a whore for angst 😭😭)

oh man oh man oh man. How I love angst. But lowkey think I’m bad at writing it so I’m sorry if I did this dirty😭

Arcane Imagines- Viktor

Twisted Fate

[arcane] [main page]

prompt: in which fate is against you.

“Mom, please.” You roll your eyes, standing up from the hospital bed. “I just wanted to make sure!” She puts her hands up in defense as you just shake your head. “I can get up on my own.” You laugh, picking up your laptop, putting on slippers as you head out of the room. 

“I’ll be in the lounge if the nurses look for me.” You tell her and she nods her head, already tidying up your bed since you left it. You sigh at the clean freak that is your mother, walking down the hallway of the large building. It’s currently 10 pm so you’re hoping nobody’s in the patient lounge so you can do your school work in peace. It’s your senior year of high school. 

You turn the corner and into the comfortable warm colored lights that you say every room should have these types of lights instead of the bright annoying ones. You stop in your tracks though when you see a guy sitting there. He doesn’t pay any mind to you but you frown nonetheless. Wondering if you should head back to your room. 

If you did you’d have to deal with your worry filled mother. In here you’d have one strange guy who’s your age and obviously doesn’t seem like he’s going to bother you. 

You go sit down at the other side of the table that he’s already sitting at. Opening the lid of the laptop and getting started on your homework. 

As the time slowly passes you catch yourself looking at the boy, he was handsome that was for sure. “For someone also in the hospital for a reason you sure stare like an outsider.” He finally speaks up, your breathing hitches. Not expecting him to call you out. His accent also caught you off guard. It was really pretty. “Sorry.” You quickly apologize. 

“Is there something on my face?” He glances up to you with a raised eyebrow, putting down his rubix cube. “No, you just… remind me of someone.” You lie straight through your teeth. 

“Are they hot?” He asks and you smile. “Ehh, not really.” You joke and he places a hand on his heart. “Wow, way to bruise a guy's ego as he’s already clearly down.” He motions to the building the two of you are in and you snicker. 

“What kind do you have?” He inquires, you give him a confused expression. “Cancer, what kind?” He repeats and your mouth goes into an ‘o’ shape. 

“Acute Leukemia.” You answer curtly, pressing your lips together for a moment. “You?” You close your laptop, seeming as you weren’t going to be able to pay attention now. “Same actually.” He puts his hand up and you both pretend to high five one another in the air. “Twins.” You chuckle. 

“I’ve been sick since I was a child, so it’s only my luck that I get diagnosed with Cancer right before I turn 18.” You dramatically huff, leaning back in the chair. “Hah, we really are like medical twins. I had a really poor immune system as a kid. Diagnosed two years ago though. This is hopefully my last.” He crosses his fingers and then you do as well. 

“I hope so as well.” You nod your head. 

And as time passes the two of you grew close, almost inseparable. You two were the only ones who truly understood what the other was going through. Growing up sick as children, having worry warts of mothers. Then to get diagnosed with cancer, the same one might I add. You were grateful for each other. 

You were glad you had someone to warn you about what’s to come, who won’t soften the details like the nurses and doctors. And he would come to the hospital whenever you had to go back. Visiting you until the hours were over. You did the same for him as well. 

Your phone buzzes, you look at the screen hurriedly. It was the day that Viktor gets told if he’s cancer free or not. Today is important. You immediately answer, smashing the ear to your phone. “So!??” You pace back and forth in your bedroom. Antsy and impatient. 

“I uh…am…” He sounds sad and your heart drops. “Cancer freee!!” He excitedly says into the phone and you squeal out. “Yes!!! Congratulations!!!” You scream, laughing loudly. Your mom runs to the bedroom. “It’s gone?” She questions with wide eyes and a curious expression. You nod your head and she cheers, pulling you into a hug. Taking the phone from your hand. “That’s amazing, sweetheart! I’m so so so happy for you!” She tells your best friend and you scrunch your nose, smiling at her. 

Your mom and his had gotten close over the past 9 months since you had befriended Viktor. Now the two might be as close as their kids are. “I need to call your mom. We so need to celebrate this.” Your mom says and you over hear Viktor laugh, agreeing with the woman. She hands the phone back to you. 

“Sorry, she snatched my phone from me like I was some peasant.” You sit on your bed. “Well, it’s not like a peasant if you are one.” He tells you and your jaw drops. “Rude! I’m telling your mom when we go out to Hibachi grill later.” You threaten causing him to let out a snort of a laugh. 

“Hibachi grill?” He asks and you can already see the face he’s making. “Your favorite, of course we’ll be going there.” You scoff, he says a small “true.”

 “I have to go, you were the first call I made. My mom’s forcing me to call my whole family now. “ He groans. “Cancer free but at what cost.” He whines out, you chuckle. “I feel special, see you later.” You say with a smile. “See you.” He hangs up the phone and you stand up, going out to the kitchen. 

“Alright, Hibachi grill at 7, I’ll make a little reservation now.” You hear your mom speak and you bite the inside of your cheeks trying not to laugh. You called it. You knew them too well by now. You open the fridge, pulling out a water. You pinch the cap between your pointer and thumb, attempting to unscrew it but your hand feels too fragile. 

You frown, glaring at the white plastic. Trying it again. Your body was weakening from the first round of chemotherapy. You begged them to wait until after you graduated and now that you had, they set the appointment up and here you are.  You squeeze your eyes shut, throwing the bottle to the ground. “I have to go, I’ll see you at the restaurant.” You hear your mom say in the other room. Her feet heading your way. You look up at her. 

She sees the bottle that’s still rolling across the kitchen. “What happened?” She asked and you shrug your shoulders, going over and grabbing the stupid water filled plastic. “Can you open this?” You hand it over to her. “Of course.” She gets it with ease, your jaw tightens at the sight. Wanting to punch something. 

“So Hibachi at 7?” You change the energy of the room to something lighter, not wanting to hear the whole spiel of getting weaker and how it’s okay to ask for help. “Yeah, but do you need to cancel? I’m sure they’d understand.” She places a hand on your shoulder and you wiggle away. “No, mom. We’re going to celebrate my friend for being cancer free.” You spit out, walking back into your room. Upset that she would even offer that to you. 

It had been a year since Viktor was told his good news and now you’re walking into the hospital together for his appointment to check if that’s still the case with his body. You were bundled in a beanie, scarf and a large puffy jacket. It’s only 40 degrees outside but it was freezing to you. 

Viktor’s mom was supposed to be there but he told you she got caught up with something at work. You questioned it because his mom would never miss something like this. He shrugged his shoulders at your words. 

Secretly he had pleaded with his mom to just go to work so that you’d go with him instead. She knew how he felt towards you so it didn’t end up being a huge fight. Except she didn’t go to work. She stayed home due to her nerves being amped up. Not knowing if her son was going to have cancer again or not. 

The two of you are taken into a room to get the news. He had done all the blood work a few weeks ago. He didn’t want to find out over the phone so here you two are. 

He sits on top of a medical exam bed as you sit in a chair, shivering from still being cold. “You okay?” He asks you and you wave it off. “I’m fine, Vik.” You smile, your teeth chattering as you do so causing him to snicker. “Here.” He takes off his jacket, putting it on your lap. “Extra layer.” He says and you quietly thank him. 

The doctor walks in with a clipboard. “Heyy, Viktor. Long time no see. And you [Name]. Good to see you.” He grins at the both of you and you force a polite smile in return. “You too.” You puff out, holding yourself tightly. 

“So, Viktor. You are still cancer free. No signs of any abnormalities.” He tells Viktor who lets out a breath he didn’t even realize he was holding and you clap your hands excitedly. “I only need one last test from you and then you are good to go. And hopefully I will never see you again unless it’s with [name] for the time being.” He motions over to you and you giggle. Every one of the staff knows the two of you are attached at the hip. If one’s there it’s most likely the other one is as well. “Okay.” Viktor stands up, leaving you alone in the room after they walk out. 

You sit there, leaning your head back tiredly. Using the hood of the coat as a pillow. You then feel something warm cover you, you shoot your head up, confused. “Sorry, Viktor told us you were cold.” The nurse awkwardly tells you and you thank her.

The room grows silent once again and you smile, snuggling into the heated up blanket. Grateful for your best friend. Your chest tightens at the thought of him. You were growing feelings for the boy as you spent every day with him. 

And two years later you’re standing there with your mom, Viktor and his mom ringing the cancer free bell. Weakly smiling as Nurses surround you, cheering. Viktor pulls you into his side and you grin up at him. “Now we’re both cancerless!” He squeezes you and you snicker. “Woo!” You rasp out. You currently had a cold so you weren’t all the way there but still excited nonetheless. Your tireless fight is now over. 

“Chinese food tonight!” Your mom joins the hug, Viktor’s mom following along. “Yay!” You beam. 

It didn’t last long though. You got a call about a month later from the doctor. “[Name] [Last Name]?” The lady over the phone asks and you smile. “That’s me!” You say as you were cleaning up in the kitchen. Viktor was currently in the living room with your mom. Getting ready to leave.

“I have some unfortunate news regarding your x-ray results. We have your appointment already set up on Friday for your physical if you want to hear it then unless you’d like to hear it now over the phone.” She speaks and your heart drops, palpitating a few times at her words. “I’d like to hear it now.” Your voice breaks. 

You leaned over the counter using it as support. “Um,” She was hesitant to tell you the news.

 “You have a malignant tumor in your brain, cancerous, it has spread to a point where you’d need surgery and treatment as soon as possible.” She informs you and your shoulders tense up. “The percentage of me living through this?” You quiet your voice as you ask, not wanting to alarm your mother or best friend in the other room. 

“10 percent.” She breathes out and you bite your bottom lip. “How long if I don’t get the treatment?” You vaguely ask but she immediately understands what you’re asking. 

“6 months with treatment and it failing, 3 months without it all together.” She answers your question and a tear slips down your cheek. “I’m not doing it.” You say sternly. “There’s a chance you’d live a long life if you get the surgery-” 

“I will go to my appointment this Friday to speak with my doctor. Have a good night.” You cut her off, hanging up the phone. You hunch over the sink, taking in the information you were just told. 

You’re not going through it again. You’re not making your body suffer more than it has to for only 10 percent. 10 percent!? 

“[Name], I’m heading out now.” A voice speaks behind you and you lift yourself up, forcing a smile. “Okay! Text me when you get home. Love you.” You give him a short hug, knowing if it was a longer embrace you’d break down in his arms.

“Love you too.” He says, leaving the house. Once his car is out of your driveway you collapse to the ground, letting out a loud sob. 

“[Name]!? [Name], what happened!?” Your mom falls beside you, pulling you into her arms. “Three months!” You wail, hiding your face in her neck. “I have three!” Your body shakes and she shushes you, not understanding what you’re talking about.

“Honey, breathe. Breathe.” She pets your hair and you hyperventilate harder, not able to calm down. 

“I- I got a call! From the office!” You shout out, having no other way to get it out due to struggling to breathe. 

She pulls away from you with scared eyes, staring at your face. “[Name], what are you saying?” She questions, gripping your arms. You breathe in through your nose, soothing yourself before speaking. 

“Malignant tumor in my brain. Only ten percent chance with the surgery and therapy. 3 months to live without it, 6 months if it doesn’t work but still do it.” You explain and tears build in your mothers eyes. You squeeze your eyes shut, you think this has to be a dream. There’s no way this is real. 

“You’re  getting the surgery right?” She asks automatically and you put your head down in shame.

“Right, [Name]!? You’re getting the surgery, right?” She cries out and tears spill down your face as you don’t answer her. “You just got the news, you can change your mind. It’s okay!” She talks, mainly to herself. 

She stands up, not knowing what to do with herself. “Don’t… tell anyone. Please.” You look up at her from the ground. She avoids eye contact with you but nods her head. 

On Friday your mom is gripping onto your hand, tears already threatening to fall from her eyes as you sit straight up. Your Doctor doing two knocks before entering. “[Name].” He solemnly nods his head, you do the same in return. “What would you like to go forward with?” He gets straight to the point and you glance over to your mom. She breaks down, looking away from you but not letting you go. 

“I’m not doing the surgery.” You tell him, heart thumping loudly in your chest. His face seems to flicker a sad expression before he takes a loud breath. “Alright, let’s talk about that decision then.” He begins. 

You sit with Viktor, staring at him from across the booth. Taking in all of his features with a small smile. Appreciating his presence. “What?” He chuckles and you shrug your shoulders.

“You just have an interesting looking face.” You say simply and he cocks his head to the side. “What a compliment.” He rolls his eyes playfully and you grin. 

“So, what’d the doctors say about this little sickness you have?” He points to your figure that’s very clearly ill. “Just my body having a weird effect from the medicines I’m still taking.” You lie. 

You hadn’t told him of the death sentence you had received. Or the cancer in your brain. You didn’t want anyone beside your mother to know. She told Viktor’s mom who promised not to tell him. You swore to do it before the third month. 

It’s already been one, the two of you still hanging out frequently, almost everyday. “Ah, so weird. You’re so prone to weird diseases.” He takes a bite of his food and you let out a dry laugh. If only he knew. 

You wanted to tell him how you felt before you were gone. Get it out. It’s been forever of yearning for him. The least you could get is a confession out. Maybe even a kiss from the man you’ve loved for over three years. 

Every single time you go to do it, something stops you. An interruption. Fate screaming at you not to do it. 

And in the second month, you were now in and out of the hospital, growing too weak to where Viktor couldn’t not notice something was truly up that you weren’t telling him. Even his mother seemed secretive.

He didn’t like this. 

You lay in the hospital bed, eyes closed as you rest. Your mom watches your breathing as she sits on the couch in the corner of the room. “Viktor will be here in ten minutes.” She tells you and you hum out.

“Good, I have something to tell him.” You smile softly. You were going to confess. You knew you weren’t going to make it through the week.

 

Viktor presses the button of the elevator, waiting in silence as it goes up to your floor. Holding flowers and your favorite chocolate. He was going to confess. 

The elevator doors open and he steps out, he limps a little more than usual, not having his cane with him. He was trying to walk without it in front of you. Show he’s getting stronger like he’s been saying. He heads to your room 143-V. 

As he gets closer, suddenly nurses and doctors are rushing into your room, he furrowed his eyebrows, picking up his pace to the best of his abilities. “What’s happening!?” He shouts, asking one of the nurses in passing. “I don’t know.” She sadly responds in a panic as she follows after the nurses.

He hears your moms voice, screaming. 

“No! No, no no! She was supposed to have another month!” She pleaded, getting pushed out of the room. Viktor grabs onto her.

“What’s happening!?” He asks, repeating the same question he asked before. “Oh, Viktor.” She cries, pulling him into a hug, crushing the flowers that he held. 

“Wha- what’s going on?” He shakily questions. “She never told you.” She curses you, frowning at the stupid choice that you made. 

A nurse comes out to say they’re working with you, leading them to a private waiting room. The two sit down and your mom explains everything.

Viktor sat there, stunned. Not believing this. Not believing that you wouldn’t tell him this. 

An hour passes and a nurse comes into the room. She looks like she’s trying to hide the fact that she’s about to cry. Her chin quivering. She’s been your nurse since the beginning. Since you first got diagnosed. 

“I’m sorry.” Her head bows and your mother screams out a cry. Viktor’s ears ring. His vision was blurred. 

“You can see her.” She says and your mom goes out but he stays planted in the spot. Not able to move. Not able to register what’s happening. You two were just planning to watch a movie together. To hang out and try this dessert you’ve never had.

The door creaks open and your mom is standing, her face stained with tears. “Go see her before you can’t.” She tells Viktor who nods, getting up from his seat. Shuffling his feet underneath him. Clutching onto the stupid flowers. And the stupid chocolate. He enters your room. Throwing the stuff at your feet.

“How could you!?” He shouts angrily. 

“How could you do this to me!? How could you leave me!?” He falls down to the side of your bed, grabbing onto your lifeless body. His own body finally letting him cry. 

“I was going to confess my love for you! And you die?! What the fuck!?” His voice breaks with every word, it was high pitched and hurting.

The nurses that pass by, lowering their heads. Everyone that knew you in the hospital was heartbroken. They truly didn’t think this was going to happen to you. You were good.

“And you don’t tell me you were dying? I should’ve known something was up, you were so sick! I’m such a terrible friend! I fucking suck, you… You fucking suck.” He bawls, punching the bed repeatedly. 

Your mom goes to him, pulling him into a hug and he clings onto her immediately. “I’m sorry!” He says. “I’m sorry!” He weeps and she shushes him. “It’s okay, it’s okay I promise.” She cries with him. 

Such a twisted, sick fate life had gifted upon you. 

[aikoiya]

Arcane AU - The Princess of Zaun

I kinda want an Arcane-style Prince of Egypt story.

Just a Zaunite mother somehow manages to get her daughter to Piltover where she's taken in by a wealthy family. A Councilor, maybe? I'm thinking that the mother's sister might've been the Councilor's wife. Though, either said Councilor wouldn't have known his wife's heritage or he believed that she was an exception to the rule. And, I think I'll make the wife have died a few years before the start of the story. Maybe the daughter hit her head & doesn't remember her life prior to Piltover?

I'm thinking of naming her Sabina.

Anyway, she grows up unknowing of the hardships endured by the Fissurefolk.

Maybe she studied pharmacognosy & phytoremediation at the Academy? So, both botany & medicine.

Anyway, then when HexTech kicks off she eventually meets Viktor & thinks that he's familiar.

Turns out that he'd been her friend as a child.

Something happens, she learns of all the shit the elite of Piltover, the Council, & the Enforcers has put her people through, asks her father, the Councilman, who is apathetic of the death toll of Fissurefolk, begins to remember her early life, specifically her mother's name & her friendship with Viktor, & runs away from both Piltover & Zaun. Maybe to Shurima.

Years pass & Sabina gets a message from Janna herself to free Zaun from Piltover & help it prosper.

She returns & slowly makes a name for herself doing good for the people of the Undercity before going up top to meet the Council & bargain with them for Zaun's freedom.

Make her a force for good in Zaun with the drive needed to get shit done.

I also want a full Plagues montage.

One of the plagues will definitely be all the water in the River Pilt lowering & receding until the Pilt is dry.

Another causes all HexTech in Piltover to be entirely depleted of magic. So, the Hex Gates are done.

Another causes all the water remaining in Piltover to become as toxic as what is in Zaun.

Another will be the air becoming as toxic as Zaun's as the sky is blotted out by smog & acid rain falls every day from then on.

I also have a scene in my head for a different scene for the Plague of the First Born. In it, Sabina tells her supporters living in Piltover to keep a Janna rose or a blue bird feather (not a bluebird feather, a blue bird feather; a bird feather that happens to be blue; but it has to be naturally blue, not a feather that has been dyed blue) on their person. Or for those who were forgetful, to hang one or the other from their door. Doing so will protect them from the disaster to come. A feather or rose held would protect the individual, but a rose or feather upon a door will protect an entire household.

On the day that it happens, Sabina stands on the Zaun end of the bridge & lifts her staff into the air. The wind begins to blow... Then, there's a sound like a train approaching & on the horizon rises what looks to be a blue wall. Hearts sink as it rises steadily only for all to realize that it isn't getting taller, but closer. It's a tidal wave. And it's approaching speedily... As it closes in, the wind gets stronger. Yet when it is finally upon the cities, a great vortex of wind covers Zaun & keeps even a single drop from falling upon the undercity. However, Piltover is submerged. Hours pass as the water slowly lowers until it's returned to a normal level.

Piltover is devastated. Despite this, only the first borns of every family that didn't have a Janna Rose or a blue bird feather upon their door or hadn't kept one or the other on their person, had died. All others had suffered & experienced a prolonged feeling of drowning, yet were kept alive.

Those who did carry a rose or a feather were blanketed by a protective wind that sustained them. Meanwhile the houses with one or the other upon their door were equally shielded.

Piltover is left broken & weeping.

Though, I definitely see Jayce as being the type to try & convince both Viktor, Mel, & his mother (who'd already have one on her at all times) to hold onto a feather (and failing that, would personally pin one to their doors the literal day of), as well as encouraging everyone in Piltover to pin one to their doors as well. Unfortunately, not many of the upper class would do so, the most who would, would be Piltover's middle & lower classes. This, in turn, would end up saving a lot of lives & creating a lot of believers.

This results in him being seen as a hero.

---

Now that I think about it, I kinda wanna make her the result of a one-night stand with Silco from before he was betrayed by Vander. Either he's entirely clueless to her existence or he'd gotten scared when her mother told him & he rejected her.

Now, I can't stop thinking about her with Silco's eyes & hair color.

But, anyway, she wasn't just told to free Zaun, she was also told to clean it up. Meaning, get rid of Shimmer, get rid of the pollution, & instate a constitutional republic rather than the industrial oligarchy that it has now wherein the Chem-Barons (who, besides Silco & even then it's a bit dubious, don't honestly care one whit about Zaun's overall health & well-being so long as it keeps them in power) are the ones in-charge. (By comparison, Piltover is an aristocratic oligarchy where only a handfull of the rich are in-charge & make all the decisions.) Which means going up against the Chem-Barons & specifically Silco. And possibly even learning that he is her father.

I have a theory that since the Pearl of the Moon is used to ward off Voidkin, that it must have an effect on them. So, it could possibly be used to make a medicine that helps to alleviate some of the negative effects of Shimmer.

I also feel like, upon taking in & becoming attached to Jinx, Silco would sometimes wonder about the child he'd sired but had rejected & can't help but feel that he'd betrayed them.

Which, in turn, would cause some mixed feelings from him at learning the child he rejected was the one to save Zaun. And even more mixed feelings at her dismantling all he'd built.

I'm also thinking that Sabina eventually ends up with Viktor.

Arcane Masterlist

[unluckiestmember]

YAY, YOU'RE BACK TO WRITING FOR ARCANE. How would the arcane characters react (mainly vi, ekko, and jinx because i would marry, marry, and marry them all!!) to a reader who is sooo affectionate and finds every last thing they do so cute they get cuteness aggression and just jump at them like a cuddle bug often? thank you so much!!

Coming right up!

Arcane x Cuddle Bug! Reader

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

Warning: None really. SFW.

A/N: Am I the only one who wants to snuggle into Caitlyn? Ugh, I love her so much.

Powder/Jinx

“Oh! Hey there, sugar! You want to cuddle? Don’t have to ask me twice! I’ll cuddle you so much that you get tired of me! But you’d never get tired of me, right?”

Jinx is a super clingy person, so for you to be as clingy as her it’s like you two are a match made in heaven. There’s barely any time that passes when you two are not touching each other and she lives for your cuddles. It doesn’t matter if you hug her out of nowhere or she sees you about to embrace her, she is stopping everything she is doing and pulling you into the tightest of hugs.

Most of the time if she isn’t causing mayhem in the streets of Zaun or busy with her inventions, she will spend her time just holding you so close and showering your face with the cutest but most childish of kisses. She doesn’t care if it’s in private or public, she will make it known that you two can’t keep your hands off each other. You are her cuddlebug and she is yours and that won’t ever change.

Violet “Vi”

“Woah there, cuddle bug! You’re gonna make me screw up my workout… Oh forget it. How can I say no to you?”

Because Violet is absolutely touch starved, she will never decline your cuddles, even if you take her by surprise a few times with how you hug her so suddenly. She finds it adorable how you fangirl around her and find everything she does to be awesome or cute. Granted she does wish you’d call her hot or sexy, but knows that isn’t really in tune with your personality.

Regardless, she tries to make sure you know how adorable you are, always telling you while you two are cuddled up together how lucky she is to have you and how you are so adorable. Even when you visit her at work, she’ll try to drop everything and have you run into her arms to pick you up. And every time she’s got time off work or is coming back from a job, she’s automatically looking for you so she could hook you in her arms and never let go.

Ekko

“Y/N, haha! You know we gotta keep this private, babe- The kids are gonna pounce on us any second now!”

Does Ekko love hugging you? Absolutely. The warmth of your arms around his body makes him stop everything he’s doing and just hug you while calling you his firelight or firefly. Unless he’s calling you an angel or lovebug, which never fails to make Scar either look at you two in awe or roll their eyes in mock annoyance. Unfortunately, Ekko does try his best to make sure you two don’t get super affectionate around the children, especially when it comes to hugs.

Why? Because as soon as you hug him, the children find this as an invitation to gather around him and have him nearly die under a cuteness overload of a group hug. It’s nice as a once in a while occurrence, but all the time? Maybe not. Outside of the reactions you two garnish and even the teasing of you being the firelight king/queen, Ekko lives for your cuddlebug energy, wanting to be in your arms after a long day’s work. It’s always the best way to end the night… 

Caitlyn Kiramman

“And that’s why if I am able to block this end of the road, I’ll- Oh!... Oh come here, sweetheart. If you wanted to cuddle so badly, you could’ve asked.”

Caitlyn has always been someone who was more subtle with her love, pulling you into brief kisses, cupping your cheek and holding you by your waist. She usually leaves the more out there gestures like hugging and cuddling for you to initiate. But when you do? It might be harder for you to get her off of you instead of the other way around. It can be at work, in her home, outside of work or at an event. As soon as she feels your arms wrap around her slender body, she’s stopping for a second to hold you back and kiss your forehead.

She will continue working if you interrupt her during a briefing or in the middle of cracking a case, but the entire time, she will have at least one arm around your body and make sure you are comfortable. Her comrades tease her about it and she’ll scowl a bit, but she doesn’t care. As far as she can tell, she’s extremely lucky to have you as a lover.

Viktor

“Ah! Oh, it is just you, zolotse. Remember, you have to warn me of these cute little hugs of yours.”

At first, Viktor wasn’t used to your physical affection and how you were in awe of everything he did. He actually thought you were mocking him at first or being silly. But after a while, especially when the two of you became a couple, he grew accustomed to your affections. He does get a bit startled when you hug him out of nowhere and he does have moments where you cheering him on does make him a bit bashful, but he enjoys your sweet gestures regardless.

He does find it difficult to be as outgoing with his love for you as you are with him, but he does try his best to make you realize he loves you, especially in the form of quality time and calling you by sweet pet names bound to make you blush. Viktor has a tendency to pass out from working too hard and waking up in your arms. And though he’d never say it out loud, you know based on the way he snuggles into you, he adores it and adores you.

Jayce Talis

“I know what you want and I want it too- So bring it in! I’ve waited all day to be in your arms!”

Because Jayce is always out at work, it’s kind of hard for you two to be around one another all the time. That’s why when he does reunite with you after hours or you two can be together on days off, he’s spending the majority of his free time with you or wrapped around you. He sort of craves for your praise and compliments as much as he craves your cuddles.

Many would compare the councilman to a needy dog wanting his owner’s undivided attention and he definitely gets that through you. Though he may try to act all cool or play coy, everyone knows that you mean so much to him and that he becomes putty around you. Even if they don’t, you’re not afraid to say it aloud. Just make sure Jayce isn’t around or that man will become redder than a beet.

Mel Medarda

“What’s wrong?... I know that look. You want to- Ah! Well looks like you beat me to the punch, darling. How about we take this to the bed, hmm?”

Mel wasn’t really given physical affection when she was younger. She was more someone who preferred verbal affection with words of affirmation. So when it came to you and how affectionate you are, she found herself adapting and loving physical affection as much as telling you how much she loved you.

Your cuddles and sweet gestures are her personal heaven she loves returning to after a long day’s work, especially if she can spend an evening with you platonically in your shared bed. In your arms, she feels she can air out anything that’s bothering her or interests her, especially when you admit how cute it is when she does. Though this kind of intimate affection is delegated to private quarters, anyone can know from the way Mel speaks of you outside of home and at events that you mean so much to her.

Sevika

“Yeah! So then I was like screw you, I can do whatever- Hold on. Uh, Y/N. I thought we agreed to not do this at work?”

Sevika is considered the Right Hand of Zaun, a woman who is feared if not respected by her peers. And she’d like to keep it that way. Which means that while you two are at work, she prefers it if you don’t cuddle her around co-workers and give them something to tease her about. You two can only flirt and kiss and even then, it has to be sexy…

But alone, when both of you are away from the public eye, Sevika is at your beck and call wishing for nothing else but to hear your sweet praises and melt into your arms and touch. Expect her to call you the cutest thing ever and tease you on occasion, but afterwards she’s basically a big needy cat, or as she prefers to be called, a panther. It’s moments like these where you can really consider yourself lucky to see a raw side of Sevika. And it was only preserved for you.

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

[you-know-honey]

Dance

Viktor x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3k

Jayce has a plan: convince Viktor to attend the most important charity party in Piltover. But, as expected, Viktor refuses. What he didn't expect was that his assistant would show up at his workshop with a dazzling dress… and an invitation that Jayce secretly gave her. Could he really refuse now?

N/A: English is not my first language, feel free to correct me in the comments and I'll update it. Remember share if you liked it.

Viktor was focused, hunched over his desk as he fine-tuned one of the delicate pieces of hexcore. The dim lamplight illuminated his tired face, with dark circles under his eyes and strands of hair falling across his forehead. He didn’t notice Jayce’s entrance until the echo of the door closing resonated through the workshop.

“Viktor, old friend,” Jayce said, his tone bright and already foreshadowing trouble. “I have news.”

“If it has to do with that charity party, the answer is still no,” Viktor replied without looking at him, adjusting the tool in his hand.

Jayce sighed dramatically, dropping his weight into one of the nearby chairs.

“Mel has insisted that we go. We represent the future of Piltover, remember? Innovators, role models…” Jayce made a wide gesture with his hands, as if he were giving a speech.

“If Mel insists, you can represent us alone,” Viktor replied indifferently. He knew he wasn’t really required here, inviting him was just a formality. Then he looked up and looked at him seriously. “I don’t have time for parties, there’s a lot of work to finish here.”

Not to mention that dancing was something he had crossed off the list of things he could still do.

His friend really wanted Viktor to go, mostly because he had been very down lately, he barely left the lab and there were days where he would find him with his face on his notebooks after falling asleep at some point in the early morning, he was the first to arrive and the last to leave, if he ever did.

Jayce watched him in silence for a moment, before giving him a sly smile.

“Okay, I understand. You can’t just drop your projects. But what if I gave you a reason to go?”

Viktor frowned, distrusting his tone.

—What kind of reason?

Jayce didn't answer. Instead, his smile widened as he glanced towards the door of the workshop, as if he was waiting for something. He had recently discovered what he thought was a clue to the kind of feelings Viktor had for you, the long longing glances, the little smiles, the casual approaches of his hands, he answering any of your curiosities and letting you sing soft melodies while he worked were all very obvious clues to his eyes. Viktor followed the direction of his gaze just as the door opened.

And there you were.

Viktor felt the air leave his lungs. You weren’t wearing your usual practical attire. Instead, you were sporting an elegant iridescent white dress that flowed like water with your every move. The color perfectly complemented your skin tone, and the design highlighted your figure in a way Viktor couldn’t ignore. Your hair was delicately arranged, and a glint in your eyes suggested you was nervous, yet excited.

“Y/N?” Viktor asked, still processing what he was seeing.

You gave him a shy, yet warm smile.

“Jayce invited me as your date,” you said, your tone a mix of apology and expectation. “I hope you don’t mind.”

Viktor slowly turned to Jayce, who now wore an expression of unabashed triumph.

“What have you done?” Viktor asked, his voice low, but laced with disbelief.

“I gave you a reason to go,” Jayce replied, raising his hands in an innocent gesture. “I knew you wouldn’t accept if there wasn’t something… or someone to make the evening interesting for you.”

Viktor felt his face heat up as his thoughts struggled to organize themselves. Of course he felt a certain special affection for you. It had been a secret he had jealously kept, even from himself, and he had refrained from dwelling on it too much, after all they were coworkers. But now, seeing you there, so beautiful, waiting for his answer, completely disarmed him.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to, Viktor,” you said softly. “I just thought it would be… nice.”

Viktor’s heart skipped a beat. There was something in your tone that made him immediately doubt his usual refusal. For the first time in a long time, the idea of ​​getting away from his work, even for a few hours, didn’t seem so far-fetched. Mostly because he didn’t seem able to wipe that beautiful smile off your face by refusing. His mind searched for excuses for himself, to justify that he had now changed his mind, and that this change had nothing to do with you.

Finally, he stood up with the help of his staff, running a hand through his messy hair, although it didn't help much.

"If you insist…" he murmured, looking at you more than at Jayce. "I suppose I can make an exception."

Jayce smiled widely.

"Perfect. Now, change. You can't go dressed like that."

Viktor let out a resigned sigh as he took the suitcase that Jayce had left with his suit, in another attempt to convince him, but he couldn't stop a small smile from appearing on his lips as he headed to the bathroom to change.

When he left he felt a little silly, he tried to arrange his hair in front of the mirror but it was totally impossible. Jayce see proudly that his plan had paid off, but the most important look for Viktor and the one he looked for as soon as he opened the door was yours. He watched your pupils dilate rapidly as you saw him come out in that elegant suit. Your hands went to your mouth trying to hide a smile. Viktor forced himself to look away to avoid them seeing the small blush that ran across his pale cheeks.

“Oh! I almost forgot.” You quickly went to open one of the tool cabinets, rummaging through the back with the curious gaze of the boys behind you. After a moment, you pulled out a small box, and as if you were a little girl skipping, you approached Viktor with it. “I hope you like it.”

Viktor looked at you in surprise as he took the delicate box in his hands. He opened it delicately to discover a maroon tie between the strands of paper. His gaze traveled from the gift to you several times before giving you a warm smile as he took the tie between his slender fingers.

“Would you have the honor?” You nodded with a smile, as your hands took the tie you got closer to him, managing to smell the coffee aroma that you loved so much, you brought the tie behind his neck inside the collar of his shirt and tied it perfectly over his chest. “Thank you.”

The evening was everything Viktor had expected: lavish, loud, and filled with Piltover’s elites. Laughter and lively conversation echoed between walls adorned with gilded chandeliers and silk curtains. Viktor had always considered these events a waste of time.

When they arrived, Viktor could barely take his eyes off you. Jayce had already gone after the councilwoman, leaving them alone, as Viktor knew he would. His discomfort was evident in the way his hands played with the handle of his cane, which he tried to hide as soon as he began to walk through the crowd. You seemed to radiate confidence with every step, politely greeting the other attendees, as if these events were common for you.

Viktor, however, felt out of place. He held his cane tighter than usual, trying not to trip, but it was difficult given the state of his leg and the huge crowd.

“Relax,” you whispered with a reassuring smile as you tangled your arm through his. “Is it that bad?”

Viktor looked at you, his eyes softening instantly.

“Easy for you to say. You seem made for this.”

She let out a soft laugh.

“Not as much as you think. I’m just trying to look like it.”

A waiter passed by with a tray of wine glasses, taking a couple, offering another to Viktor. He reluctantly grew taller, though he hesitated before taking a sip.

From a safe distance, Jayce watched the scene with a satisfied smile. Mel approached him, arching an eyebrow in curiosity.

“What did you do this time?”

“A little push in the right direction,” Jayce replied, nodding towards where you stood with Viktor.

Mel let out a light laugh, shaking her head.

“I didn’t know you were a matchmaker.”

Jayce said alarmingly, shrugging.

“I’m not. But sometimes, a man needs help to see what’s right in front of him.”

Meanwhile, you and Viktor had climbed the stairs to the second floor, so you were more isolated from the hustle and bustle, it was a big job for him, but he really wanted to get away from the crowd. Plus the second floor was an even more beautiful place than the main hall, full of huge stained glass windows and a balcony at the end.

“I never imagined I’d end up here,” you said, looking at the lights that dyed the floor thanks to the stained glass. “When I was a child, I looked at the towers of Piltover from Zaun and dreamed of seeing them up close.”

“Zaun leaves its mark on all of us,” Viktor said softly, his fingers drumming against the handle of his cane. “But it’s not always a bad thing. Sometimes, it pushes us to… be better.”

You looked at him with a shy smile, your eyes meeting his.

"Do you think we've accomplished that?"

Viktor was silent for a moment sighing before answering, then slightly tilted his head at you.

"You certainly have."

Your eyes widened in surprise, a slight blush coloring your cheeks.

"That's quite a compliment coming from you."

The sound of music filled the air, and the guests began to make their way to the main hall for the dance. Jayce didn't hesitate to take Mel's hand and head out onto the dance floor.

"It's time to dance" you said, looking over the railing at the rest of the guests dancing with their partners with some longing.

"I don't dance" Viktor answered immediately. It was one of the things he had crossed off the list of things he could still do.

You looked at Viktor, shaking your head.

"I can't…"he didn't like saying that at all, but he didn't want her to be disappointed for failing even in the attempt to do it, all his life he had known that those things weren't for him, so he didn't give himself the time to even try. "I'm sorry to disappoint you." Viktor approached the railing, to look at all those couples dancing next to you.

"Disappoint me?" you answered incredulously, carefully bringing one of your hands closer to his "I don't think you can ever do that."

Your pinky gently caressed his hand, it was okay if he didn't want to dance, you had already witnessed what the pain in his leg could cause him and you didn't want that to happen today. You were pleased to just have his presence by your side, that was enough for you.

Viktor sighed, feeling guilty for 'ruining your night' he looked at you and knew he had to take the risk. He reached out a hand to you, more shaky than he would have liked.

“This time I might try.”

You took his hand carefully, leading him away from the railing, to his own little dance floor. As the music continued, Viktor tried to focus on following your steps, but he realized his attention was completely fixed on you, the way you held his hand, the way he felt your body close to his, your warmth against the cold of your skin. He couldn't help but blush as he finally worked up the courage to look at your face, your smile, the way you looked at him as if he were more than just an inventor addicted to his work.

For the first time in a long time, Viktor allowed himself to let go of the cane that made an almost imperceptible sound as it fell to the ground, he allowed himself to be enveloped by the moment, by the sensations, by you. He forced his leg to be useful to him for the first time, slowly under the silver lights of the moon, the outside world faded away, the pressure of his work, everything that tormented him left him to live the moment with you.

"Viktor, your cane…" you rushed quickly to grab it, thinking that you had dropped it by mistake but his hand in yours stopped you.

"I want to try it like this." He said as he extended his other hand for you to take. You weren't sure if that was the best thing for him, but the confidence on his face, the way he looked as if he were begging you to let him live that moment like that ended up convincing you.

Jayce, watching the scene from a safe distance at the bottom of the stairs, smiled to himself.

"It's about time." he said before Mel appeared and he happily let himself be dragged back to the dance floor.

The dance continued, and although Viktor's movements were a little stiff, your slow, gentle movements managed to relax him little by little. Despite his lack of experience, Viktor was surprised to find a natural rhythm next to you. The murmur of the rest of the guests, the echo of laughter and conversations, faded as your eyes remained fixed on his, with your hands resting on his shoulders, and his own hands caressing your waist.

"See? It wasn't so terrible after all," you murmured with a smile as you buried your face in his neck.

Viktor looked down, his lips curving into a slight smile. But he knew he couldn't last much longer standing without his cane, he was starting to feel that stabbing pain in his leg, he tried to control it as best he could, he didn't want that moment with you to end.

"It's… bearable." He tried to keep his body as relaxed as possible, to avoid you noticing and he feeling like a dying man again.

You laughed, a sound so warm and sincere that it caused Viktor to have a strange tingle in his chest.

"Always so enthusiastic?" you joked.

"Maybe the environment has an influence" he answered, keeping his tone sarcastic but with an unusual softness that you didn't miss.

A comfortable silence settled between the two of them as they continued to sway to the music. Viktor, normally so oblivious to social interactions, couldn't help but wonder how someone like you, so kind and brilliant, was more than comfortable being in his life. And more importantly, how he had been lucky enough to have you stay in it.

As the music began to become softer, both of their movements became slower, until they stopped completely. You stayed close, your hands still joined, until he spoke in a voice barely audible to you:

"Thank you for joining me tonight."

You nodded.

"Thank you… for making it bearable."

He smiled, his gaze lowering for a moment before meeting yours again, as you picked up his cane from the floor and surrendered.

"Thank you. We should do this more often, don't you think?"

The suggestion took you by surprise, you didn't think Viktor would want to repeat something like that, but instead of responding with a negative and referring to his leg, you simply said:

"Maybe." with a sweet smile, now that you both shared more than just work. Without the bustle and inquisitive glances of the attendees, it was as if they were in a world of their own.

The party had reached its moment of recess, with laughter and soft music filling the air. The guests began to disperse throughout the place and some began to climb the stairs. The moment you shared was abruptly broken when a visibly drunk councilman stumbled towards you with a smirk on his face. His ostentatious attire and wine glass in hand made him seem out of place in the serene atmosphere you had created.

“Ah, there are the strangers!” he exclaimed, his tone heavy with mockery. His eyes assessed you both, lingering a little longer on you, an expression that made you shudder in disgust. You had received such looks before, you knew them and knew they led to nothing good.

Viktor tensed instantly, straightening up with difficulty and leaning more heavily on his cane to take a step forward.

“Can we help you with something?” Viktor asked coldly, clearly uncomfortable with the man’s presence.

The councilman let out an exaggerated laugh.

“Oh, I don’t need any help from you.” Though I must say, Heimerdinger has strange priorities, letting a couple of second-class citizens mingle among us.

Your brow furrowed and you clenched your fists, more than ready to throw him down the stairs and pretend he slipped. But before you could say anything, the man turned to Viktor with a sly grin.

“You… Viktor… How admirable that you accomplish so much in such… poor health. It’s a miracle you can stay on your feet, don’t you think? Though, of course, when all you have to offer is your brain, I guess there’s not much else you can use to impress.”

The comment hit like a whiplash, but Viktor didn’t respond immediately, it wasn’t the first time he heard someone talk about him like that, he didn’t care at all. His grip on the cane tightened just because you were there, and his jaw clenched, of all people in the world, he didn’t want you to be the one to hear that. He remained silent, his gaze fixed on the man.

The councilor, seeing that he wasn’t getting a response, turned his attention to you again. His eyes scanned you shamelessly, his smile twisting even more.

“And you, my dear… I guess it makes sense that you’re here with him. The girls of Zaun always know how to… adapt to circumstances, don’t they? A perfect match: a disembodied brain and a… well, you know.”

Indignation took hold of you. Your chest rose and fell rapidly, but before you could respond or move to fit his nose with a punch, Viktor grabbed your hand, stopping the hurricane of thoughts in your mind.

“Stop it,” Viktor said, his voice low but firm.

The councilman raised his eyebrows, feigning surprise.

“Oh, did you hit a nerve? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“No,” Viktor interrupted, taking a step forward, despite the obvious annoyance the movement caused him. “Don’t be sorry. And I don’t want your fake apologies. Just… shut your mouth and get out.”

The man snorted, but before he could say anything else, you faced him, walking steadily in front of him, your voice clear and determined.

“It must be exhausting carrying so much shit around,” you said, with an icy smile. “But I guess I couldn’t expect anything else from someone whose only virtue is his last name.”

The councilman looked at you, surprised by your bravery, and then snorted before turning to leave, muttering something unintelligible and spilling half of his glass of wine on the floor.

When you were alone again, the air was still tense, your fists still clenched at your sides. Viktor finally let out a long sigh, closing his eyes for a moment.

“You shouldn’t have… faced him,” he said softly. “I’m used to his usual nonsense.”

You looked at him with a determined expression.

“And you shouldn’t bear that in silence. No one deserves to be treated like that, especially you. They should lick your shoes, thanks to you this city really became the city of progress. You shouldn’t have to get used to it, Viktor.” You intertwined your hand with his, like an instinct you couldn’t ignore.

He looked down at their intertwined hands. He could feel the warmth of your touch breaking through the cold barrier he had built up over the years.

“I don’t believe his words, they’re irrelevant to me,” he finally admitted, his voice laced with honesty.

You gently squeezed his hand, forcing him to look at you.

“Then stand up for yourself, because you know what I believe? I believe you’re more than just a brilliant brain, Viktor. You’re not just a man with a cane or someone who comes from Zaun. You’re so much more than that, a genius, a visionary. There’s so much about you that’s amazing besides your wit.”

Viktor let out a short, dry laugh, but there was a spark of something else in his expression. Maybe gratitude, maybe something deeper that he didn’t dare name yet.

“You’re… persistent,” he said, with a slight smile that quickly faded as he looked back into your eyes. “But I don’t understand why.”

You tilted your head, confused.

“Why, what?”

Viktor looked away, unsure of how to continue, but he knew the words were already on the edge of his lips, and he couldn’t turn back.

“Why do you care so much about me? Why are you still here, by my side, despite everything. Helping me with everything, always taking care of me, looking at me as if there was nothing more interesting than me when I talk to you…even now.”

You looked at him for a long moment with a huge blush caught in your cheeks, and then, with a warmth in your voice that almost disarmed him, you answered, “Because I see you, Viktor. I see who you really are, and… I care about you. Much more than I should.”

The world seemed to stop in that instant. Viktor swallowed, feeling the air grow heavier, but also clearer at the same time.

“Y/N…” His voice was a whisper, as if he was taste out your name in a different, more intimate context that even he didn’t know about.

Their eyes met again, and this time, Viktor didn't look away, just watching your eyes sparkle and your pupils widen, it warmed his heart to know it was because you were looking at him.

"I should tell you now, but well…it's something new."

You smile softly, giving him some relief.

"You don't need to be good at it. Just tell me what you feel."

Viktor took a deep breath, as if he was preparing for a leap he had feared for a long time.

"I admire you. Not just for your intelligence or your ability to put up with my…quirks. But because you make me feel different…alive. With you, I don't feel alone. With you, I feel like…I can be something more."

His words were clumsy, but the sincerity in them was undeniable.

“And I think… I feel something really deep for you, Y/N.”

The silence that followed was overwhelming, but not because you were hesitating. But because you were taking in each word, feeling them deeply. Slowly, a smile spread across your face, and with a determined step, you closed the distance between you.

“That’s good, Viktor,” you whispered, leaning in just enough for him to hear each word clearly. “Because I’m already in love with you.”

Viktor looked at you, a flash of something soft and warm crossing his eyes.

“Thank you,” he finally said, his voice almost a whispered gasp. Despite everything he believed made him unworthy, you always saw him as something more.

The air seemed to vibrate between you, charged with an energy neither of you could explain but both of you understood. As the lights of Piltover continued to shine in the distance, the two of them towered over high society, standing together in a pure, private moment.

Jayce, who had been watching the scene with a mix of satisfaction and pride, decided not to interrupt. Mel, at his side, looked at him with an arched eyebrow.

“Happy with your masterpiece?” she asked, taking a sip of her glass.

“More than I imagined,” Jayce replied, crossing his arms as a triumphant smile lit up his face. “Viktor deserved it, although he’ll probably hate me tomorrow.”

“Oh, I don’t think he’ll hate you,” Mel said, watching the couple. “Maybe he’ll even thank you… eventually.”

As the night progressed and the lights in the hall grew dimmer, you and Viktor remained close, away from the bustle of the rest of the guests. For the first time in a long time, Viktor wasn’t thinking about the Hexcore, or his work, or his body, or the expectations he had placed on himself.

At that moment, there were only the two of them, and that, for Viktor, was a discovery as fascinating as any scientific breakthrough.

[mysterymachine9]

Viktor (Arcane) x gn!reader

Summary: Giving him a bj in the lab 🤫

NSFW. Minors DNI. Not proof read ❌

I have a Scar (character from Arcane as well) that I’m finishing up. It should be posted sometime this week.

Convincing him to do this took some time. He just wasn’t sure about it. The risk of getting caught, accidentally knocking something over, etc etc. You let him think about it, and the more he thought about the more he just wasn’t sure.

But then one day, you walked in and could tell he was having a rough day. When you stood beside him, watching him work, he finally decided to take his eyes off the project. “Yes?” He asked, sounding slightly agitated. “Just watching you work is all.” You responded. Hearing a faint, “hm” afterwards. Viktor looked back at the desk and started to review his notes. You wanted him to feel better—to make him feel better. So of course you had a few ideas in mind.

“Stand up, please.”

“I am trying to work.”

“I’m aware.”

It was silent for a moment. But then he stood up, looking at you as if you were the reason why he was annoyed. You took a step closer and reached for his face. Watching as he melted against your hands. “You, sir, need a break.” You suggested, watching as he slowly opened his eyes to look at you. “No, I need to figure out how-“ You cut him off by placing your pointer finger against his lips.

“You’re taking a break, whether you like it or not.” Then replaced your finger with your lips. Your hands fell from where they were, all the way to his sides. When you pulled away Viktor looked at you with a more softened expression. “Fine.” He said, softly. You backed him up against the desk. A thud echoing in the room when he made contact.

⭒

You sucked on his tip. The taste of pre coated your tongue, and it only made you want to do more. Viktor’s head was tilted back, eyes were shut, and quiet whimpers fell from his lips. One hand buried in your hair while the other gripped the edge of the desk. Seems to you he must’ve completely forgot about all his worries of having sex in the lab.

You know Viktor can be louder. Maybe he hasn’t fully forgotten, but either way you’re gonna do what you can to make him less quiet.

Viktor gasped when you took him fully. His hand in your hair tightened. Your eyes began water; vision blurring. But you blinked them away. You swallowed a few times, trying not to gag. The feeling of your throat constricting around him nearly made him cum right then and there. His whines started to become louder and louder the sooner he got close. And all you did was speed up your movements. Wanting to give him the pleasure of cumming.

But then, when Viktor was right there, you both could’ve sworn there was a knock on the door. You stopped your movements, pulling off of him. He groaned quietly at the loss. It was silent for a few seconds with you both staring at the door. It soon came to a conclusion that nobody knocked on the door. Something must’ve fell outside of the room or someone was there, they just decided to walk away since nobody answered.

Viktor’s heavy breathing soon slowed back down. His cock twitched and throbbed, begging for attention. But you waited just a few more seconds before resuming your actions. A small, quiet moan left his mouth and his hand returned to your hair. His hips thrusted up into your mouth, seeking more. You pulled off again and licked a looong stripe up his cock before taking his tip.

When Viktor was close, so very close, he raised his hips—pushing his cock deeper into your mouth. You groaned at the sudden intrusion, but quickly got used to it again. He whimpered oh so beautifully and came down your throat, coating it white. You swallowed what you could before pulling off when he finished. His grip in your hair loosened and his heavy breathing was the only thing that was heard in the room. You moved closer to his softening cock, looking up at him before pushing his spit—slicked tip back into your mouth. His eyes were shut at first, but opened quick with the overwhelming sensation of you on his cock. Viktor whined and his thighs almost closed up. But you pulled away before he could get hard again.

You started to get up—knees aching from being on them for so long. Viktor looked wrecked. “How’re you feeling?” You asked, referring to earlier when he was a bit irritated. “Better.” He answered, quietly. So quiet that even with how close you were, you could barely hear.

Nodding, you started to move closer. Giving him a quick kiss on the lips. “Good.”