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doctorho · 4 months

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Holy darkness pt. 2

hi guys!!!! soooo this was supposed to be a fall/spooky times fic but you know what we can bring that vampire energy into january. i have permission (i can do whatever i want forever) Vampire!Viktor x gender neutral reader, 1.5k words part 1

In addition to packing your favorite book, you take a few extras too, just in case. You’d made plans to go back to the library the next day, with a pie and a book, as agreed, and the whole day you feel like your skin is tingling. It might be the stupidest thing you’ve ever done, knowingly going to spend time with a strange man that was possibly a vampire, at night, in the dark, on the outskirts of town.

But man were you excited.

It was the first interesting thing that had happened in a long, long time. And...you couldn't really bring yourself to truly be afraid enough to stay away.

So you pack your books, pick up a fresh strawberry pie from the bakey, and get on your way, walking through the darkening streets. It had gotten colder recently, and the wind was howling in the trees, and for all intents and purposes, the whole night felt like a cheap copy of something that starts with it was a dark and stormy night…

You ignore this. And the quiet gnawing nerves at the back of your head.

When you get to the library, for the first time ever you don’t stay in the shadows on the street.

You walk in. It feels weird – you could vaguely remember when the library was in use, but it had been like this for years now, dark and quiet and certainly with no regular foot traffic. So just…walking through the front yard, to the big, old doors, it felt…out of place. Like you were being watched. There were tall, ancient trees lining the path, there was even a fountain with some old statue in the middle, but that hadn’t seen running water in years, except when it rained.

The doors all tall, dark and imposing. You’re not really sure what to do; you hadn’t discussed the specifics with him. Typically one didn’t knock when entering a library, but in this case…it was his home. It felt rude to just walk in.

But then again, if he had some sort of supernatural powers, there was a good chance he already knew you were there, having heard you approaching.

You still weren’t sure if he could hear your heartbeat. Which, at the moment, was thundering in your ears. So, probably. It was probably loud enough at this point that even a normal human could have heard it if they tried hard enough.

You knock on the door. The sound is dull and quiet, your knuckles not having a big impact on the heavy wood door softened by years of rain.

He hears it anyway. Of course he does. It doesn’t take long for him to open the door for you, and – you have to take a moment to orient yourself after you see him. He’s all smooth skin and sharp edges and intense eyes, focused and burning on you.

Someone could tell you he’s carved from marble and you would believe them. He looked like he’s dropped here straight from the pages of some fairytale.

(At this, your train of thought staggers a little bit, and with it, your heart. Yes, he looked like he’s straight from a fairytale – but which side? You didn’t know him. And…in some stories the beautiful things turn out to be the most dangerous ones).

And then he smiles at you, and you find that you don’t really care all that much.

He smiles, and something in your heart settles.

You’re not sure if that’s a good thing or not.

Probably not.

“Hello,” he says, voice calm and pleasant, “come in.”

You thank him as he steps aside from the doorway, letting you in.

The library foyer is dark, like you’d expected, big and empty. Hollow, somehow, without all the people that it was built for. He’s clearly done some redecorating, moving things around, stacking books and turning shelves, but it was still a big, empty space.

He nods towards an open doorway and you follow him. It leads to a slightly more cozy room, with dark wooden book shelves and warm-lit candles lighting the space. You had no idea what the space had been originally, but he’d managed to make it look like a living room; there was a fireplace, and a set of dark red velvet chairs. Tall windows lined the walls, and they had tall velvet curtains, draping all the way from the high ceiling to the floor.

There’s a dark wooden table, and you set down the pie. You’d been careful carrying it, trying not to mush it up, and you were hoping you’d been successful in that. Gifting someone with a pie probably worked better when it still looked like a pie.

He hums appreciatively, looking at it, and you peel it out of its packaging.

“Do you drink tea?” He asks, and for some reason, that takes you by surprise.

Not a totally outrageous question to ask from a guest, but for some reason you hadn’t expected it from him.

“Uh…yeah. Sure.” You answer, and he nods a little. And then, he disappears into an adjacent room.

You just stay there, not sure if you should have followed him or not. He hadn’t asked you to, so it felt safer not to. But staying in the room felt awkward, too. You try to suspend the awkwardness by studying your surroundings, and it works, for a while.

The room isn’t as dusty as you were expecting. He’d clearly been taking care of the books. And – if you hadn’t heard the rumors of him being a vampire that should be avoided at all costs, the room might even be comfortable.

But, for now, you stay on your toes. Figuratively speaking.

When he comes back, he is carrying a silver tray with a steaming teapot and clinking porcelain cups.

“It’s black tea,” he says, “I hope that’s okay. I don’t have…the widest selection.”

He sets out the tray on the table too, and glances at you.

“That’s fine.” You answer, then sit down on the closest velvet-covered chair and lean back to study him. “Where do you get this stuff?”

He pours you a cup, and then offers it to you, smiling. “I have my connections.”

“But they don’t bring you tea blends,” you continue, “or pies.”

You take the tea cup, and wait for him to answer. Stir in some sugar.

“No.” He says after a moment, making his own cup.

“And you don’t go out to get them on your own?”

“...No.”

“Why not?”

He lifts an eyebrow. Looks at you.

“I am well aware that the people in town don’t exactly…appreciate my presence.”

“Doesn’t mean you aren’t allowed to go outside.”

He takes a breath, and stirs his tea.

“No,” he agrees, “but it does make going outside…unpleasant.” He exhales a small sigh and looks down at his hands. “I keep to myself most of the time. It’s…easier that way.”

You nod slowly. His words sound heavy, serious. He’s fidgeting with his fingers, and he hasn’t mentioned the pie, yet.

“Have you got any plates?” You ask, “Forks?”

He meets your gaze, you nod towards the pie, and his eyes follow..

He opens his mouth, and then closes it. Then looks at you again. “Yes.” He then says after a moment, “I…haven’t shared dessert with anyone in a long time.”

“Well, now’s your chance.” You smile at him, and he smiles back, but it looks a little hollow.

He gets up again, and soon, returns with small delicate porcelain plates – mismatching – and a dull-looking knife.

“No forks,” he says apologetically, “but I suppose we can use the tea spoons?”

“Sure,” you answer, and then wait for him to get settled down again. He looks at the pie for a moment before starting to cut it.

“So how’d you end up here?” You ask, while he scoops out a piece of the pie to one of the plates.

“Long story.” He answers, without looking at you.

“I’ve got time.”

He takes a deep breath, and then for a moment, focuses on cutting the pie again, scooping out a piece to the other plate, carefully setting aside the knife and then placing one of the plates in front of you.

“I was homeless,” he starts, simply, factually, “and wandered around for a long time, didn’t really have anywhere to go.” He stirs his tea, and watches it swirl. Licks his lips. “I ran into a man that used to work here. He told me it was empty, so I just…thought I’d stay here for a while.” He shrugs with one shoulder, “And ended up staying.”

“And you’ve been here,” you say slowly, “alone. Ever since?”

He doesn’t answer.

“Doing what?”

“Reading, mostly.”

“And you haven’t gone insane yet?”

His lips quirk up in a small smile. “I think that’s still up for debate.”

You look at him for a moment. “Doesn’t it get lonely?”

You couldn’t imagine being cooped up inside one place, alone, for that long, without really…going anywhere, or seeing anyone.

Now, he looks up. Meets your eyes, carefully.

“Sometimes.”

#viktor arcane x reader #viktor x reader #arcane fanfic #vampire viktor

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doctorho · 4 months

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Behind these words (3)

hi babes!!!!! we are cooking more parts for this fic <3 This is a Viktor x reader fic based on the Signed, Viktor series by @buttermynutter Behind these words masterlist 1k words, no warnings

The studying environment is…much more open than you were expecting. After Viktor had sorted out your courses for you remotely, seemingly instantly after being informed of your arrival & enrollment choices, you’re left with a few lecture classes and a lot of time set aside for you to work on your projects in the lab with Jayce. He seems nice – polite, and everyone seems to like him – and he’s eager to hear about what you wanted to work on. It was weird, getting to…work this freely, having all these tools and materials there just for this purpose. And if you needed anything, you could just ask, and it would appear in the lab by latest the next morning.

You don’t tell Jayce this, but every day you keep marveling at how good everything was. The tools were new, and when something got broken or worn down, it got replaced, no fuss.

The first time your drill tip is so dull from friction and metal that you need to push it into the plate with your body weight, it doesn’t even occur to you that you could just ask for a new one. It feels stupid, because of course they had those in storage, but you had just…never been in an environment where worn out bits got replaced as soon as they got worn out. Everything was always used to the point of no return and then some.

Jayce tells you to go get some more from the storage, or file in a request for a new supply if they’re out. It’s as simple as that.

It still takes you weeks to get used to just…throwing out parts that weren’t in pristine conditions. But dull drill tips were of no use to anyone, except if you melted them. Still, felt weird to throw them out so often.

Another thing that you have to learn by trial and error is protective gear. See, when working in factories in the Undercity, that…isn’t really a thing.

But here?

Here, they had heat protective gloves. Here, they wore masks to protect them from breathing in the smoke from soldering irons. They had targeted air vents.

You continue working with what you’d started before; trying to figure out a sustainable way to help clean the air in the Undercity. Before, you’d used junk and discarded parts from whatever, and now you had to figure out what you actually wanted and not what you could get your hands on.

The lab spaces are shared among different students working on different projects. Like Viktor’s letter had said, you shared a space with Jayce, who was working on trying to create a new energy source. It was fascinating work, but you both kept to yourselves to a lot of the time – he was very immersed in what he was doing, and you tried to do the same.

So it isn’t Jayce who tells you about the protective gear.

Students come and go in the space, so you’re not sure who it is, but after a while, a pair of thin heat-protective gloves and a mask just appear on your place on the desk. You hadn’t…honestly even known to want them, because they weren’t something that you were used to – you had just silently cursed as you occasionally burned your fingers with the soldering iron, and tried to keep your face as far away from the smoke as possible.

But someone leaves those for you. You don’t know who it is, but you’re thankful anyway.

The work passes…more comfortably after that. You spend your days in the lab, occasionally attend lectures, try to make yourself presentable in the uniform. Enjoy free meals and always sneak some food to your room too, just…out of habit. Just in case.

Life in the Academy still feels alien, but you’re starting to get used to it.

And then, when you get back to your room one night, there is another letter from Viktor that leaves you with your mouth open in shock.

“Congratulations!

Because of your recent efforts on the Piltover Reforms Project, you have been hand-selected by the Council to receive the distinguished Novice Scholar award, an annual award overseeing students that have attended the academy for under a year…”

An award?

You have to read the letter a couple of times to make sure you weren’t hallucinating.

Then, you have to sit down.

And then you just sit there in shock for a good few moments.

This whole society felt like a rollercoaster. A few months ago you’d been treated like a criminal in Zaun for trying to develop new tech, and now these people wanted to give you an award, for the same exact reason.

It didn’t feel real.

But the letter in your hands was very real.

And it posed a very real issue.

Formal attire.

You did not, as it happens, own formal attire. It wasn’t something you’d needed before.

The most formal clothes you owned were…the Academy uniform, and you doubted that would count.

But there isn’t much you could do about that late at night, and the letter had said there were three days until the ceremony. Three days to acquire something that counts as formal attire.

You make a plan to ask someone about that in your morning lecture, if they knew where one could get something like that, and tried not to think about the price too much. The Academy gave you what they called a modest stipend (more money than you had ever made before) and it was intended to be spent on covering general living costs, but…with them offering free meals and accommodation you had a fair bit of it in your account now. You could spend some of it on new clothes. Just…preferably not all of it.

You’d made a few friends in your classes. You’d ask some of them for recommendations.

Letter

#viktor arcane x reader #viktor x reader #arcane fanfic

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doctorho · 4 months

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Behind these words masterlist

This is a Viktor x reader fic based on the Signed, Viktor series by @buttermynutter

part 1

part 2

part 3

#viktor arcane x reader #viktor x reader #arcane fanfic

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doctorho · 4 months

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Behind these words (2)

Hey, remember this fic from Way Way Back? i found it in my drafts and cooked up a second part for you! i love this world and always intended to get back to it, i just...never did. until now!

This is a Viktor x reader fic based on the Signed, Viktor series by @buttermynutter here's part 1 in case you have no idea what i'm talking about 2.5k words, no warnings

You don’t know where to go.

Sure, you head to the Academy, that much was obvious, but nothing and no-one had prepared you for the fact that the place was enormous. There were several buildings, which, yes, didn’t seem that surprising when you thought about it, but nothing in the letters had indicated where exactly were you supposed to go.

Now that you were there – or, in the correct vicinity, at least – you were starting to doubt yourself again. Was it even okay for you to just show up like this? They wanted the form to be delivered personally, yes, it said that in the letter (you had it practically memorized by now) but that didn’t necessarily mean you could just show up at the front desk and go Hi, I think I live here now?

Front desk. That sounded good. You should probably find one of those.

Administration office, the letter had said. Too bad they hadn’t labeled the buildings from the outside. How were you supposed to know where the administration office was? There were dozens of absolutely massive buildings, all with several floors, towers, and you wouldn’t have been the least bit surprised if there’d been even more places underground.

“If you have any questions regarding this letter,” He had written, “please feel free to contact the Academy.”

Yeah. As you look up at the identical buildings, a few questions come to mind.

The first of them being; what the fuck, Viktor?

And as a close second, are you kidding me? And, then, finally, a resigned couldn’t have been more specific with the directions?

People are walking past you in a blur, everyone unmistakably shiny in that Piltover kind of way, dressed sharply and quick in their movements, sure of where they’re going. And you’re standing still, debating just picking a building at random and hoping you won’t end up too lost.

You felt like an idiot – no, worse; an outsider. It had been clear from the moment you’d left Zaun. You didn’t belong here, and you were sure everyone else could smell it on you.

You weren’t one of them, you didn’t know where anything was, how anything worked, your clothes were old and worn and you didn’t know where to go. And the pressure of everyone else moving around you while you stood still like a stone in a river kept building on you, making the back of your neck itch. The longer you stayed still, the more you would stand out.

So you take a deep breath, and look up at the buildings again. Pick the oldest looking one, one with stupid decorative pillars and walls that had been clearly painted over many times, with small cracks in the paint that was chipping at the corners, faded where the sunlight hit the most.

They’d want the main building to be old and important and historical or whatever.

You walk in, trying your best to look like you were supposed to be there and definitely knew what you’re doing.

You don’t know what you’re doing.

Inside, after a small foyer lined with plants that were taller than you were, you find a long desk – and a person! – there’s someone sitting behind the desk, with sleek hair and dressed in dark blue, looking equipped and ready to help.

For the first time since arriving you feel like you might be in the right place, or at least getting there. Being lost alone is much worse than being lost and knowing there’s someone you can ask for directions. At least that gives you something to do.

“Hello,” The person behind the desk says before you can do anything, “can I help you?”

“I hope so,” You answer, “I’m looking for the administration office?”

“Ah,” The person smiles, nodding slightly, “to the left, through those glass doors. You’ll find a desk much like this one here.”

You smile and say thank you as politely as you can, and continue on your way. You go through the glass doors as instructed, and you find what you assume is the previously discussed desk. There’s a woman dressed in all black, and she smiles at you like it’s the first thing in her job description.

“Hello,” she says politely, “can I help you?”

“Hi,” you answer, walking closer, “I was told to come here, I got a letter in the mail…?” You explain, handing over the papers and hoping she’d know what you were talking about.

She nods, looks them over, and then smiles at you again. “You’re in the right place,” she says, picking up a pile of papers, “here, some basic information. You’ll find an assigned room on the first page, map of the area on the second, and any important contact details for questions you might have. If there’s any issues, you can always find someone to help here.” She explains while handing you the papers, “and to get you started, I need to fill in some files to update that you’ve arrived. Are you going to be staying right away or are you just here to check in?”

You try your best to orient yourself, taking in all the new information and balancing the pile of papers hoping not to drop any. “Yes,” you answer, “I’ll be staying as of now, if that’s okay.”

She nods again, and looks at something on her desk. “That’s perfectly okay. I’ll just need some information and then you can start getting settled in.”

You nod back at her, and brace yourself for having to explain the…less than standard circumstances under which you’d ended up there. But she doesn’t ask about that; she just wants your name, contact info, and possible allergies or dietary restrictions, and if you need any special accommodations. You answer her questions, quietly surprised that they cared this much.

“Any goals?” She asks, and you don’t know how to answer.

“What do you want to do here?” She continues, and you just blink at her for a second.

You understood the question, you did, but it still didn’t entirely…compute. What you wanted to do?

Were they not going to tell you?

You blink at her as she waits patiently, with a steady customer-service smile on her lips, and then you answer with a very clever-sounding Um.

You take a breath and start again.

“I’m not sure,” You start, “what can I do here?”

Ha. Answering a question with a question. Getting more information. Smart.

The customer service smile on her lips doesn’t waver, and she just nods a little, handing you a new pile of papers, stapled together. “You can find all offered study courses here,” she says, “what you can get started with depends on your previous level of knowledge, of course. The current research topics being focused on at the Academy are also listed in the back, if you want to get included in a research project.”

You nod absent-mindedly in response, taking the newly offered papers.

“We’ll arrange for someone to help you get started,” she continues, and it doesn’t seem like you have a choice in the matter. “They’ll leave a letter for you so you can arrange a meeting. Are you familiar with anyone here yet, someone who could show you around?”

You shake your head a little, “No,” you answer, “not really. I got this letter from someone named Viktor, he seems to be at least vaguely familiar with my whole…situation, but I haven’t met him.”

“Ah, yes.” The woman nods again, smiling. “We’ll let him know you’ve arrived. In the meantime,” she hands you another stack of papers, “here are some forms for you to fill out to figure out which courses might be suitable for you, based on previous experience.” She smiles, and your heart staggers a little.

Previous experience?

Previous academic experience?

Technically speaking, you didn’t have much of that. Probably not even enough to be standing in the building, according to protocol. Technically speaking, you probably weren’t qualified for much. You were, broadly speaking, self-taught.

She smiles encouragingly, clearly misinterpreting the worry on your face. “And don’t worry, you’ll learn your way around in no time, the people here are really helpful.”

Even the ones who aren’t being paid to do it? You think to yourself, but just swallow sound your nerves, smile, and nod at her.

She smiles back, that customer service smile of a mission accomplished, and then she sends you on your way.

You could figure out the technicalities later. You had been accepted; they had invited you. It’d be fine. Probably. Now you at least have a map, and some guidelines to go by. You eye over the papers quickly on your way to find your room, and hope that you will, indeed, find your way around.

You find your room with only minor difficulty, and on the way there, you have to stop yourself from staring at, well, everything. It’s jarring; how clean everything is, how big everything is. How high the ceilings are. How much light the windows let in. How everyone’s shoes look brand new.

There are visible creases in the pants of most people who pass you by, and not the kind that come from being in one position a lot. The kind people press into their pants on purpose. Everyone looks shiny, and – just walking on one hall you can’t help but think that the clothes and jewelry these people are wearing probably cost more than anything you’d seen in your life before, like, ever. Cumulatively.

It’s like you’re in an aquarium. Looking at these beings that just…live in a totally different world.

You wonder if they can tell.

When you get to your room, which is, of course, the fanciest room you’ve ever been in, you take a moment to just stand in the silent room and breathe. The air is remarkably non-dusty, and you’re feeling a little light headed, though that might just be from the…well, everything.

It’s both incredible and a little bit upsetting, seeing that some people just…really did live like this. You have to push that to the back of your mind, because it felt like too much to realize all at once. It felt unfair, that you’d lived your whole life not knowing that a life like this, a world like this existed, and then – knowing that so many people were still down there, slowly suffocating and not really even realizing how clean the air up here was.

You take a deep breath and push that aside, too. If you were going to do something about that, standing there didn’t help. No point wallowing in the past – you were here to make things better. You were here to make a change. And to do that, you had to get started.

And – if these people up here were really living like this, damn were you going to get your piece of it.

You grab the pile of papers you’d gotten, a really fancy-looking pen, and set out to find the closest cafeteria. You were going to eat the best free meal of your life, and figure out which classes to sign up for.

You’re not sure how you feel about the cafeteria. Yes, it’s amazing, and you couldn’t quite believe they just let you eat whatever for free when you show a badge you’d gotten with the papers, the walls are white and shiny and there are tall marble pillars around the halls.

There are more fruits you’ve seen in your life, and your heart sinks a little as you’re picking what to eat. Because – yes, you were hungry and yes, you were absolutely going to take advantage of this, but bloody hell were you aware how many people were out there going hungry and eating stale bread and moths-old dry root vegetables.

You have to push that thought aside to be able to order yourself a warm drink, and then you settle to a comfortable-looking corner table to focus on the piles of papers you had to go through.

You fill out questions about your background, about your experience, about your interests. About the…personal project you’d been working on before being admitted here. You try to figure out what your options were here and, to be safe, you check the boxes for signing up for really basic classes. Truthfully, a lot of the names didn’t really tell you what the classes were about, but you made a few bold guesses and chose an engineering track. That should roughly align with what you already knew a fair bit about, and – if it didn’t, at least they were all supposed to be very, very basic. Something you could hopefully handle.

The questionnaire is, in some places, disheartening, full of questions with anagrams you couldn’t decipher, which made you feel incredibly stupid (and then you have to take a deep breath and remind yourself that no, you weren’t stupid, you just hadn’t had access to this information before).

It felt like jumping into the deep end of the lake, when the water was murky and you couldn’t see far below the surface.

You had no idea what to expect from these classes. You had no idea what they would teach, what they would expect you to know, what the other people would be like. But – you weren’t the first student to start there, so it would all be fine. Probably.

You’d handled worse.

You stay in the cafeteria late, and the constant buzz of people steadily decreases. By the time you leave – with another hot drink to go – it’s dark outside and the halls are mostly silent. You drop off the forms you’ve filled at the front desk, and there’s a different smiling woman there now, who happily takes them and tells you she’ll register you right away, and urges you to go pick out an uniform for yourself, telling you could start classes in the morning.

Doing as you’re told, you where you’re instructed, and find a “storage room” which is more like a fancy shop, with different variations of the Academy uniform pieces on display. There is a young boy standing behind a counter, one of those shiny-looking people again, dark-skinned and young enough to probably be another student, and with probably the best posture you had ever seen anyone stand in.

He talks you through the different pieces, how they were intended to be worn, and then leaves you to pick some for yourself. For free, of course.

You’d seen people wear the uniforms, of course. And subconsciously, you’d thought you’d probably get one too. You just hadn’t really thought about it.

You run your hand over the different fabrics gently, and each and every one of them feels expensive. You didn’t know much about how clothes were manufactured here, but you would bet that these were all better quality clothes than you’d ever had before. Thick, and heavy fabrics, tight-woven and precisely cut and finished. You didn’t know much about clothes, but looking at these it was clear they were made with much more care than what you were used to.

When you get back to your room, there is a letter waiting for you.

Letter

#viktor x reader #viktor arcane x reader #arcane fanfic

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doctorho · 6 months

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Holy Darkness, pt. 1

hello! my peeps! what's up!!!

it's here! the vampire au! i have no idea how long i'm gonna make this thing, we'll see where the Vibes take us.

this is going to be vampire!Viktor x gender neutral reader multichapter fic

2,3k words, no warnings. i mean, general spooky vibes, but we all know he isn't actually evil okay. i mean the reader doesn't know that. yet. but we know that. right?

(some backstory for this fic idea here and here)

I mean. It’s not like you meant to trespass on the property of the nocturnal hermit living in a rundown abandoned library.

Or maybe you did. A little bit. But that’s not the point.

The point is that you’re there now, in the quiet darkness, surrounded by the scent of wet leaves and heavy silence; the kind that drips down the back of your neck and tingles as it curls around your spine.

It had been a perfectly ordinary night, so far. You’d closed up the small bookshop you worked at, quietly getting everything ready for the next day, swept the floors, just like you always did. You’d eaten dinner alone in your small quiet apartment, just like you always did. You’d put out some food for the too-thin stray cat that hung around your street, and wished, bone-deep, that something in your small quiet life would change.

Just like you always did.

It wasn’t bad, your life. It was actually pretty good, considering. But it was boring. Stagnant. And you just…wanted something more. The town was small and quiet and nothing much ever happened – the most exciting event of your week was usually the gossip you overheard at the weekly book club meetings, which didn’t exactly make you feel better about your own life. A good percentage of the elderly ladies in the book club (or their neighbors) seemed to lead more exciting lives than you did.

You shouldn’t compare yourself to others, you knew that. But your life was boring, and you spent your days surrounded by books; epic adventures, romances that made your heart melt, countless stories where someone gets thrown into a land straight out of your imagination, fantasies where there’s a whole other world just a breath away from this one–

It made your own life seem even more boring in comparison.

And it didn’t exactly help that the only thing this town had going for itself – besides the book club – was that there was an abandoned library that was, allegedly, inhabited by a hermit, who – allegedly – might have been a vampire.

You weren’t sure how much of that story was true. Yes, there was the abandoned library, condemned to be closed down years ago after some unfortunate water damage and lack of funding to rebuild it. Yes, there seemed to be someone living in there. Sometimes you saw lights on in the windows, things that had moved around as if on their own. Someone seemed to be taking care of the property, too, at least to some extent.

Yes, no-one ever really saw this person out during daylight hours.

All anyone knew was that 1) there seemed to be someone living there, 2) the collective guess was that it was a man, probably pretty young, and definitely a loner.

And at some point the collective understanding had also accepted that this man was, allegedly, a vampire.

You weren’t sure you believed that last part. Vampires were, technically, not recognized by science. You’d never met one, that you knew of. But…they were a stable factor in local folklore, and all those stories had to come from somewhere. Right?

And…the longer you stood there, watching the dark building and the dim golden light pouring out from the windows, the more you started to entertain the thought that maybe vampires existed, and maybe this man was one of them.

He seemed to lead an unusual life, and yeah, maybe he was just a hermit, but…for some reason you couldn’t quite convince yourself of that. No-one just appears out of nowhere and sets up camp in an abandoned building, never to be seen in daylight again.

You’d seen his shadow in the window a few times, passing by. You couldn’t see much of his features, but he was lean, like people had said. You stayed hidden the best you could – this was the first time you’d gotten this close – and just…tried to win this internal fight with yourself about whether you should turn around and go home right now or just get a little bit closer. Just stay a little bit longer.

(You weren’t sure which side of your brain you were hoping would win).

You knew it was stupid, being there.

You didn’t know how dangerous this man was, vampire or not. For all you knew he could have been 100% human and still been a murderer or something.

But you were curious.

That’s all it boiled down to.

You didn’t want anything from this man. You just wanted to know. Who he was, what he was doing in there–

and if vampires really existed.

Maybe you should be blaming all those fantasy books in your shop, but �� dammit – you wanted to know if something more than this boring human existence really was out there. It was like an itching in your bones; you wanted to know. Your soul refused to settle, and it got more and more restless the longer you went on with your normal little life.

Besides, the man lived in a library. You had no idea how many books were in there that no-one in this town even remembered anymore.

You wanted to know.

That’s what makes you stay. Even when half your brain and most of your blood was constantly telling you that you should go, leave, now.

You don’t really even have a plan. It’s not like you’re going to just knock and go up to him and say hey, I was wondering, what’s your deal?

Yeah. You weren’t going to do that.

What you were planning on doing was just…sort of circling that idea, the possibility of maybe running into him. Walking just on the edge of the property, telling yourself it’s not on purpose. Stopping to see if there’s a light in the windows tonight. That’s it.

It’s not like you were planning on actually going to talk to him.

So when he’s suddenly standing in front of you, you don’t know what to say. Or do.

He is standing there, all sharp-edged in the shadows, dark and tall and silent, and looking at you with the most intense eyes you’ve ever seen.

There’s a moment, when you’re just staring at him, where you feel like your heart beats a hollow beat and everything in the night is silent. The shadows seem to twirl around him, though that was probably just your imagination. Probably.

“Is there a reason you’re lingering in the shadows out here?” He asks, his voice a quiet, captivating drawl.

He seems calm, the kind of stationary bottom-of-the-sea calm that you’d only seen in very intelligent animals before.

(You try to quiet the part of your brain that tries to substitute ‘animals’ with ‘predators’, and you try your best to keep your breathing even. It takes more effort than it should).

His eyes were golden, deep golden, and that definitely wasn’t usual for…humans.

And there was something about his features that made you instantly accept that if vampires existed, and this man was one, you wouldn’t be the least bit surprised.

“No,” you answer, and the word is so light that it feels like a lie as soon as it leaves your lips.

You’re not sure what kind of vampiric powers this man might have, but you’re suddenly worried that he might be able to hear your heartbeat, which was definitely way faster than it should have been.

“Hm.” He says, still looking at you, as if he was studying you.

You both pretend that he isn’t the reason you’re there. Or, you pretend he isn’t, and he pretends he doesn’t know that.

You take a deep breath.

“What are the chances you would just go back inside and forget I was ever here?” You ask, trying to sound like you weren’t worried about what the alternative to that might be.

“Very low,” he answers, straight-forward, and then he tilts his head slightly and his eyes trail over you.

He was still studying you.

“I don’t get many…visitors.” He says, and then he smiles. It’s a small, knowing, stupidly attractive smile, and, god, yeah, the man definitely has small fangs. Christ. Was it like a feature that vampires were attractive to like, lure you in? Was that a thing they did?

He couldn't read your thoughts, could he?

“So it is not likely that I’ll forget you were ever here, no.” He continues, “but if you want me to, I will go back inside.” He meets your eyes, “if you tell me why you’re really here.”

You swallow.

Fine, that was reasonable. You were on his property.

Well. Technically it was still probably the town’s property. But still. In essence it was his now.

You take a deep breath and try to silence the annoyingly rattling part of your monkey-brain that was still tugging at you to run away, be smart, please-

The longer you dissect this situation in your brain though, the clearer it becomes.

Yes, you were currently in a dark secluded space with a stranger. Who might be a vampire.

But…he hadn’t actually done anything to scare you, had he?

He hadn’t threatened you.

He seemed quite reasonable, actually.

And if he wanted to hurt you, he could have done that already. Many times over.

But instead, he was out here. Making civil conversation.

Did you really even want him to go back inside?

Wasn’t this why you were here? To find out more about him?

You swallow, lick your lips, and then meet his eyes. Take a breath.

“I was curious.”

“About?” He counters, watching you, tilting his head, as if he didn’t already know.

You furrow your eyes a little bit. Just look at him for a few seconds. He just waits for you to answer, patiently.

“You.” You finally answer. Hold his gaze.

“Ah.” He says, then nods slowly and smiles again, faintly. “Me.”

Then, he looks at you again, now with something more purposeful in his eyes. More…interested. “Why?”

You blink. Go through a quick mental check of what your choices were here; you could lie – and say what?

Or you could tell the truth, and see where it took you.

And – honestly? You were still curious.

So you shrug with one shoulder, trying your best to seem casual about it. Pretend your heart wasn’t still pounding.

“I was curious,” You answer, “about the mysterious stranger living in the abandoned library.”

He looks at you. Studies you. Nods slowly.

"Hm." he says again. "Well, here I am."

You take a deep breath.

He shifts his weight.

"What would you like to know?" He asks, remarkably casually. Like an offering. Or, possibly, a bait.

You take it, whichever one it was.

One way to find out.

"Who are you?"

You start with the obvious, though you're not really sure what kind of an answer you're hoping for.

"My name is Viktor." He says, simply, still with the ghost of a smile on his face.

Nice. A name. Progress.

Viktor.

That still didn't tell you much about what he was really doing here, but it was a start.

You offer your own name in return, hoping not to seem rude. Not that he'd do much with your name; it wasn't very likely that you two would become pen pals or something.

"And you've just…been living in our rundown library?"

"Yes," he answers, shifting his weight a bit again, and again, looking at you like he was inspecting you. Waiting for something.

"Why?"

He tilts his head a little. "That is," he says, "not a one-word answer."

"Most answers aren't." You answer, before you can really think it through. This whole situation was absurd; were you really out here just… having a casual conversation with this cryptid of a man?

He makes a sound that is… close to a chuckle. More of an exhale, but still. You can hear it loud and clear in the quiet darkness, and that makes it feel like he’s much closer to you than he actually is. Like the small sound fills the air around you.

"That is true." He says after a moment. Then, he takes a breath. Visibly.

So he wasn't at least entirely undead then.

"How about we make a deal." he offers, "I'll tell you," he meets your eyes again and smiles a little, "for a price."

"And what might that be?" You ask in return, entertaining the idea, and trying your best to seem casual about it.

His smile widens. "One of those strawberry pies from the bakery, and your favorite book."

You blink. How he knew about the strawberry pies, you weren't sure, but you weren't about to question that now. The answer could have been a lot worse, so you'll take strawberry pie, sure.

"Do I need to point out that you literally live in a library?"

He shifts his weight again, leaning more heavily on his cane. "A library that hasn't gotten any new books in years."

You look at him. Really look at him.

So this alleged-vampire, nocturnal cryptid hermit of a man, had just offered to tell you his life story, in exchange for a pie and a book?

Yeah, if you were honest with yourself, you were never going to not take that deal.

"Okay," you tell him, "my place or yours?"

His lips quirk up a little. "Mine," he answers, "I think that's probably best." Then, he nods slowly and meets your eyes. "It's quiet and peaceful in there."

He smiles, just enough for you to get a glimpse of his teeth again, and it's the most sharp-edged-beautiful thing you've seen in a while.

Something curls around your spine in the darkness, and you're still not sure if it was a bait or an offering that you took.

You're not sure you care.

#timezone reblob

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doctorho · 6 months

Text

Holy Darkness, pt. 1

hello! my peeps! what's up!!!

it's here! the vampire au! i have no idea how long i'm gonna make this thing, we'll see where the Vibes take us.

this is going to be vampire!Viktor x gender neutral reader multichapter fic

2,3k words, no warnings. i mean, general spooky vibes, but we all know he isn't actually evil okay. i mean the reader doesn't know that. yet. but we know that. right?

(some backstory for this fic idea here and here)

I mean. It’s not like you meant to trespass on the property of the nocturnal hermit living in a rundown abandoned library.

Or maybe you did. A little bit. But that’s not the point.

Just like you always did.

It made your own life seem even more boring in comparison.

Yes, no-one ever really saw this person out during daylight hours.

All anyone knew was that 1) there seemed to be someone living there, 2) the collective guess was that it was a man, probably pretty young, and definitely a loner.

And at some point the collective understanding had also accepted that this man was, allegedly, a vampire.

(You weren’t sure which side of your brain you were hoping would win).

You knew it was stupid, being there.

You didn’t know how dangerous this man was, vampire or not. For all you knew he could have been 100% human and still been a murderer or something.

But you were curious.

That’s all it boiled down to.

You didn’t want anything from this man. You just wanted to know. Who he was, what he was doing in there–

and if vampires really existed.

Maybe you should be blaming all those fantasy books in your shop, but – dammit – you wanted to know if something more than this boring human existence really was out there. It was like an itching in your bones; you wanted to know. Your soul refused to settle, and it got more and more restless the longer you went on with your normal little life.