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#arcane 2021
a-small-cretur · 3 months
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happy arcane s2 year to all who celebrate
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somedaylazysomeday · 2 months
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Noisy - Part Four
Despite your agreements, Viktor is being very loud... Again. You go to confront him about it.
Viktor x fem!reader
Rating: Explicit. Minors DNI.
Word Count: 5,500
Warnings: Frustration, concern, hints of growing intimacy, unprotected sex, creampie, feelings
Previous | Masterlist
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You couldn’t sleep.
You turned to your side, away from the window. Maybe the faint glow from behind the curtains was what had kept you awake. Or maybe all the thoughts crowding your mind were on that side of the pillow, sneaking in through your ear until they could snarl and snap inside of your brain.
Another sleepless night was not what you needed. 
A moment later, you amended the thought. If there was going to be one night you couldn’t really rest, this wasn’t the worst night for it to happen. You didn’t have anywhere to be the next day and no real plans. You could sleep as late as you needed to recover what you were losing to your racing thoughts. 
With that realization, you gave in and let your mind whir rapidly as it performed a variety of calculations it apparently thought were necessary. 
The first - and accordingly most concerning - thought was about your impending departure from the Piltover Academy of Science, Technology, and Innovation. 
You had been a student at the Academy for almost a decade. Your undergraduate work had been completed on time. Graduate work had slowed you down slightly as you started taking more advanced courses that required more field work. And your doctoral program seemed to have stretched on for an eternity. That was mostly because the Academy’s work-study program had left you attending courses only half of your time. 
Even then, your main focus for the last semester had been on writing your dissertation. 
From everything you had learned about other schools, Piltover’s Academy was unique in the way dissertations were presented, especially in practical fields. Instead of a simple essay, Academy dissertations were written as a proposal. You were to identify a problem, hypothesize about causes and solutions, and create a plan to help alleviate the problem or treat those suffering from it.
When you were finished with your dissertation, you would submit it to your mentor, Professor Ukkud. Once she went through it with you and you completed any final changes, she would present it to the Council of Piltover. They would read it, discuss your proposed solutions, then give you a chance to answer their questions and defend your intended methodology. 
If you successfully defended your dissertation, you would gain a doctorate. You would also be approved a specified amount of Piltover’s money to put your proposal into action, backed by the Council. Doctors whose experiments and solutions helped people were often offered jobs in the government itself, working to improve the lives of Piltover citizens. 
Your identified problem - the pollution in the Undercity, particularly the fumes found in the Sump sector - was easily proven. The causes were of concern to Piltover. The solutions were simple and relatively cheap. It was, by all accounts, tailor-made for a successful dissertation defense.
Except that you had been advised to start over. 
Your meeting with Professor Ukkud that afternoon had been profoundly disappointing. It had been your first meeting with her since you had discussed concepts. The professor had left the Academy for several months as she delivered a beautiful boy. She and her wife had spent much of the following time bonding with their newborn son and, by the time she returned, your dissertation was almost complete. 
Which was why it was particularly heartbreaking that you had presented your lovingly-crafted work to Professor Ukkud only for her to sit in uncomfortable silence. She listened to your explanation, but pushed the dissertation back to you unread. When she finally spoke, it was with an expression of sympathy and a delicate sort of tone. 
“I understand your passion for this project and I think it would have a positive impact on the Undercity. However, I feel that there is a strong chance the Council will deny you the funds you’ve requested.” 
You had been aghast. The Council rarely refused funds, and when they did, it was often because the attached proposal had been subpar. In a few cases, they had denied funds and awarded the defender their degree anyway, but it had happened only twice that you could remember. 
It was considered slightly shameful to receive your degree with no accompanying funds. It was a sign that the Council thought there was no situation in which your special knowledge could play an role in improving Piltover.
“But… But this is important research…” you had protested, knowing it wouldn’t matter. “My solution is simple and cost-effective, and no one can argue the impact it would have on the lives of those living in the Undercity. Especially the ones who live in the Sump sector, but it could make a difference for people who live much further away.”
Professor Ukkud shook her head sadly. “I agree, and I believe there is a strong possibility that your proposal would improve lives across the Undercity and even along the border of Upper Piltover where the river is narrow.”
“Then I don’t understand the problem,” you’d said, openly frustrated. 
“Simply put: the Council will not divert funds toward a project that will mostly impact the Undercity.”
You had suspected as much as soon as Professor Ukkud suggested you change the topic of your dissertation, but it was startling to hear her say it so directly. Worse, you knew she was right. 
You wanted to rail against the unfairness of it all, but the prejudices of Upper Piltover ran deep. There was no other explanation for the poor conditions half the city lived in - and perhaps more, since censuses tended not to go well in the Undercity. 
And, even worse, you partially understood. The Undercity rebelled against Upper Piltover on a regular basis, and most of those rebellions were violent. Yes, they were rebelling against a lack of representation and the fact that the Council didn’t put any effort toward improving the Undercity, but you could imagine that the proud Piltover people would see helping them as rewarding the very violence they were hoping to stop. 
None of those thoughts had left you. Instead, you slumped and stared down at the stack of pages resting on the table. They represented literal months of your life. When you weren’t helping Ukkud in her classroom, you were researching or writing or editing or experimenting, all in the process of crafting the perfect dissertation. 
“What am I supposed to do, then?” The question had sounded more defeated than challenging. “I can’t rewrite it. The semester is ending soon.”
“I think your best option is to stay an extra semester,” Professor Ukkud opinioned, looking visibly relieved that you weren’t planning to argue with her about it. “You could try to create a different dissertation, but in the limited time… You would either end up with an inferior proposal or be too exhausted to defend it.”
You hadn’t had anything else to say, by then. What was the point? Instead, you thanked the professor for her guidance and left the classroom. You’d spent the rest of the afternoon sulking and mulling over your options. 
The way you saw it, you had two: spend an extra semester at the Academy to create another dissertation and proposal about an issue you weren’t as passionate about, or… 
Or present the dissertation you had already prepared. 
Professor Ukkud was right, you probably wouldn’t be funded. But you could leave here and go somewhere where you could make a difference. You had taken several grant-writing courses during your time at the Academy. It would be far more difficult to do things on your own. But wouldn’t it be worth it? 
You turned onto your back once more, eyeing the ceiling with disgust. Now that you had rehashed everything about the disappointing meeting and rethought about the difficult choice that faced you, you had hoped sleep would come. But you were just as awake as you had been before and you clearly weren’t going to make any important decisions that night. 
Sliiiiiide. Scrape. Scrape! BOOM.
Your initial jolt turned into you sitting bolt upright in bed as a tremendous noise came from the apartment above yours. You looked up at the ceiling, like you could see through it if you stared hard enough. 
When that didn't work, you started to lay back down, but paused. Viktor knew you didn't need to be awake early the next day and had no specific reason to stay quiet, but this was excessive even for him. 
Immediately, your mind started jumping to negative conclusions. What if Viktor had tripped? What if his cane had caught on something, leaving him tumbling to the floor? If had fallen badly enough to hurt himself, how would he call for help? Would anyone notice until the weekend ended? 
The last thing you wanted was to imply that he couldn't take care of himself, but it would be good to check on Viktor, right? He couldn't be offended if you were making sure he wasn't hurt. And if he was, you could always pretend you were upset with him for making so much noise. He didn't know you had already been awake…
You pulled on a sweatshirt over your pajamas and started the trek upstairs. You had been casually sleeping with Viktor for months by that point, but you didn't go up to his apartment as often as you had expected. 
And who could blame you? Not only did Viktor prefer to keep people away from the experiments that filled his apartment, but he also didn't have a bed. You liked to think you were fairly low-maintenance, but you did prefer not to have sex on the floor. Unless it you were in a particular mood. Or a hurry. Or- 
You pulled your thoughts back to your current mission. Viktor could be hurt, and you needed to make sure he wasn’t in pain and waiting to be found. 
The first obstacle was that you didn’t have a key to his apartment. It had never been necessary before and you were struck by the strangeness of that for the first time. Your relationship was strictly casual, but it would have made sense for you proximity to lead to more opportunities for hooking up. Including swapping apartment keys. 
And so you knocked, your taps on his door were firm with an edge of urgency. Even as you waited for a response, you planned: if you knocked again and there was no answer, you would break down the door. How you would accomplish that, you weren’t really sure. As you eyed the solid wood of the door, you wondered if you might be overestimating your own abilities. 
Fortunately, you and your poor shoulder were spared from seeing how you fared against the door when it opened and Viktor’s brown eyes peered out. “Yes?” 
“Are you okay?” you asked, a little nonplussed. 
“Of course,” he told you.
“What are you doing up here?” 
Viktor looked overly innocent, which was a good as a red flag in the current situation. “Nothing in particular. Why?” 
You squinted at him. “Well, I heard a really loud noise a few minutes ago. I thought you might have fallen and knocked yourself out.”
“Do you really think so little of my balance?” 
The dry question was met with a hard stare of your own. You had seen him trip over nothing, and if something impacted how his cane landed, he was virtually guaranteed to end up on the ground. 
Graciously, you decided not to bring up any of that. Instead, you said, “You’re out of breath. A little odd for someone claiming not to be doing anything in particular. And it’s really dark in there…” 
You tried to see around him and into the apartment, but Viktor leaned into your line of sight. “Seriously, did you knock over a lamp or something? It totally dark in there. Wait, not totally… Are those candles? I don’t think you’re allowed to have candles in the dorms.” 
Viktor sighed heavily, letting the door swing out from his grip. You took a moment to process his bare feet and rumpled hair before accepting his silent invitation and stepping past him into the apartment. As always, you almost struggled to believe that his apartment shared a layout with yours, since his was decorated so dramatically differently. 
His furniture was almost entirely missing, with the exception of a very old and well-worn recliner that he slept in. The rest of the space was taken up with various experiments. They had changed since the last time you had been there, but precise layouts of chemical, biological, and mysterious experiments still spread across every available surface. Each one was accompanied by a notebook containing neatly written notes. 
It took a moment for you to check, but you couldn’t see anything around the room that would have caused the amount of noise that had brought you upstairs in the first place. That was good, since it meant that Viktor probably wasn’t hurt and trying to hide it from you.
There was a bare circle on one of Viktor’s countertops, all the experiments carefully swept clear. In the middle of the circle was a cluster of candles, throwing warm light dancing around the room. 
“Well, at least you made sure nothing would catch on fire from your illegal candles,” you conceded.
Viktor came to stand beside you. “Well, nothing that I don’t want to be caught.” 
Your eyebrows raised without your permission as you gave him a sidelong look. “Are you lighting things on fire in your apartment? Need I remind you that I live downstairs and that the building is ancient? And flammable?”
“Besides,” he continued, ignoring you. “I think they set a mood quite nicely. Don’t you agree?” 
“What mood are you trying to set? Angsty serial killer, or are you going for-”
Viktor leaned close, the motion so sudden that you pulled backward. You would have thought it was just a rushed attempt at a kiss, but the way he was looking at you was anything but romantic. His amber eyes were studying your face like you were one of his experiments. You didn’t care for the feeling.
“Is something wrong?” he asked abruptly. 
The bluntness of the question threw you off, made you less able to create a believable story. “Not- Not really? Bad day. Then my upstairs neighbor keeps being noisy.” 
“Today was your meeting with Professor Ukkud, was it not?” he asked. It was a rhetorical question; Viktor had proven to have a near-eidetic memory when it came to the things you told him. “Did she have many critiques for your dissertation?” 
“Something like that,” you admitted. 
“Strange,” Viktor mused. “I thought it was rather brilliant.” 
Your eyes snapped to his. Viktor was smiling slightly, but he seemed sincere. He had read your dissertation. 
When you had asked him to the first time - claiming that you needed another set of eyes on it - he had refused. His explanation was that his ties to the Undercity were too strong, that he wouldn’t be able to look at your proposal with any objectivity. That had seemed like a lie to you, but you hadn’t pushed. A boundary was a boundary, even if he wasn’t giving you the real reason behind it. 
“You… you read my dissertation?” you stammered. 
“Of course,” he told you. “It’s you. How could I no-? Unh!”
You felt a little guilty about the way that his throat had collided with the top of your shoulder as you pulled him into a hug, but you couldn’t stop yourself from gripping him with your full strength. 
It was only when he stroked a hand down your back, hushing you gently, that you realized you were crying. The entire story spilled from you then. Every detail about Professor Ukkud’s recommendation for rewriting, your crushing disappointment, and the nagging fear that she was right and that to present before the Council would be to set yourself up for failure.
Viktor held you close, making appropriate noises as the stream of words pouring from you finally slowed, then stopped. “Do you want to talk it over? Consider your options?” 
“No,” you refused, smiling tearfully at him. “I feel better just telling you about it. But I could really use a distraction. That is, if you don’t mind? I know I’m all gross…”
Viktor’s soft lips halted your apologies and explanations. You still felt as gross as you had claimed to be, but you sank eagerly into the kiss. It wasn’t often that you let Viktor lead - normally, you were too excited for that - but you gladly followed the soothing motions of his mouth against yours.
“We do not have to-” he started when you pulled back to breathe. 
“No, but I really, really want to,” you admitted openly. 
“In that case…” Viktor stepped away. You immediately felt the loss of his warm body against his, but he was holding a hand out to you. When you took it, he started leading the way to his bedroom. 
It took until you were at the doorway to remember why this was a bad idea. You tugged slightly against his grip. “I know I said I want a distraction, but I’d rather not get eaten by one of your plants, Viktor. That’s not exactly what I’m looking for right now.” 
“Do not worry,” he assured you, pushing the door open. “I removed them last week.”
“...Why?” 
He laughed openly at you. “You’re too young to be so skeptical.” 
And then he stepped through the door, pulling you in behind him before you could continue protesting. 
To your surprise, Viktor had been telling the truth. The plants that had dominated most of the bedroom the last time you’d been inside were gone, as were the colorful lights that had illuminated them. He had even removed the protective tape from the light switch. 
Even without turning on the notoriously harsh overhead lights, you could see Viktor’s bedroom clearly enough for your mouth to fall open. “Is that..?”
“Yes, it is,” Viktor confirmed, smiling more broadly than you had ever seen. 
You started forward, but paused. “I’m almost afraid to touch it. Is this a trick? A mirage? An optical illusion?” 
Viktor only chuckled at you, gently shaking his head. You moved closer despite yourself, extending a hand until your fingers rested against the soft, sheet-covered surface of a real, tangible bed.
“It’s real,” you reported, awe heavy in your tone. 
Viktor rolled his eyes, but he was still smiling. “I know, I moved it in here today.” 
You rounded on him. “Is that what was making all of the noise? You shouldn’t have put it together yourself, Viktor. I would have been happy to help you.” 
“I didn’t build the frame myself,” he said dryly. “I know my limits. I had some members of the housing administration bring the pieces and assemble everything for me this afternoon.” 
“Then what were you doing that made so much noise?” you asked. “And how did the housing administration not freak out when they saw your collection of experiments? You have to be doing irreparable damage to the interior of this place.”
Viktor looked offended. “I know how to perform an experiment with minimal risk to the environment, myself, and others. And did it not occur to you that I could be trying to surprise you?” 
“Honestly, the idea of you moving the plants was surprising enough,” you admitted. “But where are they? Are they okay?” 
“They are fine.” You relaxed at the answer. Viktor’s plants may have tried to eat you, but that didn’t mean you wanted to think about them rotting somewhere. “The experiments were a success, so I had the plants moved into the lab for further testing and eventual propagation.” 
You nodded, impressed despite yourself. Viktor’s efforts to grow plants using various colors of light had seemed ridiculous and frivolous when you’d first learned about them, but he had eventually told you that there were implications for growing them in the Undercity. 
“Now,” Viktor said lowly, taking a step closer to you, “Are discussions about my botanical experiments distraction enough for you?” 
You thought about it for a moment, but decided that, no, it wasn’t. “I think I need a distraction that’s a little more… hands-on.”
As you said the last, you grabbed Viktor’s spare hand, placing it on the curve of your hip. The warm weight of it made you tense with anticipation even as Viktor rolled his eyes. “You are impossible.” 
“Flatterer,” you accused, leaning in for another kiss. Viktor dropped his feigned grumpiness immediately to seize the offer of your lips. Eagerly, you lost yourself in his embrace.
By the time you remembered that you were a physical being in a physical environment, you had changed positions entirely. You were sitting now, making good use of Viktor’s new bed. He was in front of you, cupping your cheek with a careful reverence that made you feel distinctly melty. 
His graceful fingers traced up and down the stretched-out collar of your sweatshirt. “Tell me you are not wearing anything complicated under this.” 
You shook your head, grinning. “No, you’re still the king of complicated clothing.” 
Viktor gave you surprisingly wicked smile. “I planned ahead.” 
And then you watched, fascinated, as he unbuttoned the few buttons on his vest. With it gone, you found that his shirt was held together only by the buttons that would show above and below the vest itself. With three more buttons undone, Viktor was bare from the waist up, and looking very proud of himself for it. 
The laugh that burst from you was loud and joyful. That moment of silliness from Viktor had done more to lift your mood than hours of ruminating had. “You’re ridiculous.” 
“Flatterer,” he returned. “You are also falling behind in this particular race.”
Your eyebrows shot upward. That was a challenge you had no intention of letting stand. You stripped off your sweatshirt in a single motion and - luckily enough - static friction pulled your sleep shirt off at the same time.
You gave Viktor a triumphant look, then both of you were fumbling to remove your own pants. Viktor had buttons to deal with while you did not, but you were stymied by the shoes you had put on to climb the stairs. He beat you, but only by a margin of seconds. You cut off any intended boasting with a deep kiss. And since you were already there, you straddled his thighs at the same time. 
Viktor’s hands wrapped around your waist, pulling you back slightly. “No, I’m going to be on top this time.” 
For the first time in a while, you felt a little uncertain. “Is that a good idea? Your leg-”
“-Will be fine,” he told you firmly. “It has improved with all the exercise it has gotten lately. Nothing long-term, but I can do this. Let me do this?”
The soft entreaty, more than anything else he could have said, convinced you. You gave a shallow nod and Viktor set to work. He guided you down to the mattress - and you were privately disappointed that the sheets didn’t have time to smell like him yet - and settled on top of you. 
The weight of him was solid between your thighs, even with him bracing a hand against the bed’s surface. You were always mildly surprised at Viktor’s size - his height and narrow build often made him appear far more slender than he truly was. 
You did have admit that you liked the position for how close everything was. When you were on top, you often felt further away from him than you wanted to be. But with Viktor taking the lead, his free hand roamed your body as both of your hands did the same to him. He alternated between kissing you and nosing along your skin while you did your best to suck tiny bruises into every stretch of his neck and jaw that you could reach. 
After a span that seemed both endless and impossibly short, Viktor pulled away with a groan. “I am uncertain how much longer I can wait to be inside of you.” 
Everything between your legs gave an eager pulse, your muscles helpfully lifting the cradle of your hips to press yourself more firmly against him. The length of him slipped easily between your folds, pressing against you. 
You gave a stuttered breath at the contact - he wasn’t entering you, but the angle of him left his head brushing firmly against your clit and the sensations were dazzling. Viktor must have been in a similar frame of mind, because he gave another groan. This one was hoarse, verging on desperate, and you throbbed. 
“Please,” you asked, lifting your hips once more. 
It took a fumbling moment for Viktor to reposition the head of himself against your entrance, but he made up for lost time by sliding home the instant he was in place.
The noise you made was inarticulate and loud, and you were grateful that the only apartment connected to Viktor’s was your own empty one. Viktor was silent, but when you remembered to open your eyes, you found that his had fluttered shut. There was a wrinkle of concentration between his dark brows, but something about their upward tilt gave him a hint of beatific supplication. He looked like he was praying. 
He drew in a breath - a long, shaking inhale - and opened those gorgeous eyes. 
“You are never anything less than incredible.” His fervent, matter-of-fact delivery was sincere enough that you believed him. It wasn’t enough to remove the soreness of the day from your heart, but it certainly didn’t hurt. 
But you were neighbors with benefits, not a couple. This level of emotion seemed taboo, somehow forbidden for two people in a casual relationship. You pushed your response aside, teasing, “Are you talking about me or my pussy?”
“You.”
The only way to hide your response to the affirmation would be to close your eyes, and that was a sacrifice you weren’t willing to make. So instead, you leaned up to give him a kiss, hoping to convey some sense of what he meant to you. You couldn’t be sure what came through, but at least he began moving inside of you. 
Viktor felt exquisite inside of you and it was hard to concentration on anything other than the pressure he put on your g-spot every time he moved into or out of you. But in the quiet spaces in his rhythm, you gathered yourself enough to watch him. Not only was watching Viktor one of your great joys in life, you were also searching for any signs that this position was hurting or straining him.
True to his claims, it didn’t seem to be. Viktor’s pace was eager, nothing but intense focus on his face. The noises he made didn’t sound pained, either, and you let yourself relax into enjoying the entire experience. 
Your finger traced along the lean muscle of Viktor’s chest, danced across his ticklish ribs, and met briefly behind his back. The feeling of his muscles tightening and releasing as he drove into you and pulled back out was intoxicating. It also made you aware of the way your hips were surging up to meet his thrusts, turning every stroke into a earth-shattering collision. 
When your timing matched up with Viktor’s, it felt like he was pushing his way up into your stomach. The depth of it was a little strange, but it didn’t hurt. Far from it, actually. You jerked so hard that Viktor paused. 
“Am I hurting you?” 
“No,” you told him, adding, “If you stop, I’m going to hurt you.”
He laughed, and the desperate need pulled away long enough for you to see the humor in it. “It feels wonderful, Viktor. Please keep going.” 
Viktor took you at your word and started thrusting into you even harder than before, but much faster. The pleasure came roaring back with a vengeance. 
In moments, you were clutching at Viktor’s shoulders both to keep yourself from being pushed up the bed and in an effort to keep yourself grounded. This was overwhelming, but in a way that left you ready for more even while you were still experiencing it. This was something addictive, you realized, but you couldn’t even begin to worry about that. 
Especially when your body started to tighten around Viktor’s.
“Close.” 
Your panted warning made Viktor nod. He dropped his pelvis a fraction of an inch, making his occasional brushes against your clit far more often and intense. Seemingly instantly, that contact pushed you unceremoniously over the edge. 
Viktor managed to keep his pace even with your body locking down around him. You shook and panted and gasped - and made some sounds that were far more dramatic - as he worked his way closer to his own orgasm. 
When you drifted back down to earth, you were content to watch Viktor work above you. He was close, you could see it in the way his arms trembled, the drop of sweat from his temple tracing down over jutting cheekbones.
“Close,” he hissed, pushing into you so hard that it sent a shockwave through your body. 
You smiled at that. You had asked him once why he warned you when you had already come. He had simply shrugged and told you, “It seems the polite thing to do.” It was so perfectly Viktor that you had laughed then. It still made you smile. 
Viktor plunged deep inside of you, giving a low and hastily-stifled groan as he came. He was particularly beautiful in the throes of pleasure, you noted. His pale skin was slightly flushed with exertion, lips swollen and red from kissing you. When his head tipped back, you could admire the marks you had scattered across his neck. His eyes were closed, but you could picture the stunning shade of amber they would be when they glowed with pleasure.
When he was finished, Viktor’s arms were shaking badly enough that you were worried, but he managed to lower himself beside you rather than collapsing. You wouldn’t have minded that so much, but Viktor’s limbs were so long and angular that collisions tended to leave you with large, unfun bruises the next day. 
“Are you okay?” Viktor asked. 
You pulled your attention back to the moment. “Yes, of course. Why?” 
“You are usually talking by now,” he told you. His eyes were still closed, but a tiny smile played around the fullness of his lips. 
With a hum, you said, “Good point. Maybe we should talk about all of this.”
Viktor’s eyes opened at that. He looked wary. “What do you mean?” 
“I mean…” You sat up slightly, wincing at the way his cum started trickling out of you. But you pressed your legs together, ignoring the sensation in favor of counting on your fingers. “The candles, the bed, the mysterious noise with no apparent cause…”
“That is what would make a noise mysterious,” Viktor agreed, an edge of sarcasm in his accented voice. 
“Shush. Anyway, I’m working on a theory…” You paused to recheck your work, but arrived at exactly the same conclusion you had come to the first time. “Were you trying to lure me up here for some reason?” 
“‘Lure’ is an ugly word.” 
“That’s not a real answer,” you informed him. “Were you planning something? Something I derailed by bursting into tears before you could get to it?” 
“It wasn’t important,” he told you. “Not by comparison.” 
His closer hand was resting against the mattress, between his face and yours. You laced your fingers with his, and he returned your smile. How could you be sad when there was magic like this in the world?
“Will you tell me what it was?” you requested softly. “Please?”
Viktor’s smile turned a little sickly and he swallowed, but nodded. “I wanted to- Well, I still want to… Ask- If you might want something more serious.”
“With you?” you checked. 
Now looking distinctly queasy, Viktor nodded again. “With me.” 
You beamed, feeling inexplicably close to tears once more. “I would like that a lot, Viktor.”
“You-?” Viktor’s eyes were wide, even as he feigned a casual attitude. “You would. Very well. Then I believe we should enter into a romantic relationship together.” 
“I believe the same,” you said, giving him your best grave expression. It wasn’t particularly solemn, not with the way you had been grinning a moment before, but it was enough to make Viktor roll his eyes as he tried not to smile. “When should we begin?”
“In my opinion,” Viktor said carefully, “we already have.” 
“Fair point,” you conceded, squeezing his hand as you leaned in for another kiss.
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Author's Note - As I've said on a few different fics I've posted this year, this is my last Fanfic February! The tolls of writing over 100,000 words to post all in one month is pretty high, especially when I have so many other ongoing projects.
I have some additional ideas for this story and I might continue it when I've caught up on the other works I've been ignoring. For now, I think this is a good pause point.
Thank you for reading!
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ludm · 6 months
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when will my husband (arcane season 2) return from the war (get back into production because SAG-AFTRA and VFX workers got a fair deal from the AMPTP)
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luinquesse · 1 year
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My secret santa gift for Jayvik Gift Exchange 2022 and @nightlilly0110
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disabledmachineherald · 5 months
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i'm going to loudly post my billion screenshots now because there is 1 other character i know of with hypertropia and it's the ableist horse. behold my "viktor arcane has hypertropia" stash
all images have alt text and yes i am insane. again, besides viktor we only have the fucking horse
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like. please
almost the entire time he's looking at mel when he and jayce break into heimerdinger's office his eye is rolled back
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"what's the point of this post"? just letting you know
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fict1onallyobsessed · 2 years
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True Tales
Sevika x Reader
Summary - you get injured and Sevika wasn’t having it
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A/N - haven’t written for her in a long time lol
You couldn’t even call the hum of the music quiet anymore. The Last Drop had turned into more of a catalyst for all other crime happening in the Undercity. No one cared about anything, so there was no consequences for beating someone up or smashing up a window. It was free will at all times, if you had an issue, you solved it yourself.
Your legs carried you through the crowd, who immediately gave way to you as they saw the state you were in. Being Sevika’s girlfriend had its advantages, but considering the blood dripping out of your nose and the black eye already forming, people didn’t want to get in your way.
A frown upon your face showed everyone else not to mess with you. Simple repercussions like that prevented scraps out in the street…most of the time. You’d used that long before you found Sevika. And most of the time, it worked.
Your girlfriend was sat at the table, probably gambling for cash again. Cards in her palm, cigar in her mouth, eyes scanning the remains of her cards in her hand before you entered her vision.
At once, she dropped the cards on the table, the men around her raising eyebrows at her as she completely ignored their existence with furrowed eyebrows. She stood and walked towards you as you angry walked towards her. You weren’t angry at her, just the men that roamed The Undercity.
“What happened?” She’s asked once she finally reached you, an arm protectively reaching up to cup your face. You relaxed a little, her touch was gentle regardless of how rough her demeanour seemed to be. The men she was playing cards with were watching from a distance, eyes wide as they saw how much cuts and bruises you had all over your body.
“Nothi-”
“Don’t give me that bullshit.” She stopped you, grabbing your jaw gently and lifting your head upwards so she could see better. “Who.”
“I took care of them.” You finalised, the flashbacks of their face being smashed in replayed in your head. It was an unfair fight. 3 against 1, yet you someone managed to be the only one able to walk away. “Trust me. They’re not gonna bother anyone.”
She looked down at you and sighed before dropping your head back down and whistling over her shoulder. The men she’d previous been playing cards with were now at her side, ready for whatever command she gives them.
“Find them.” She looked directly into your eyes as she said it, and didn’t break eye contact until her men were gone out the door. She watched as you rolled your eyes an huffed. There wasn’t much left of them anyways. There was nothing to find.
She gripped your bicep next, walking into the backroom of The Last Drop and whistled once again.
“Everyone out.”
Like dogs they scurried one after the other to the nearest exit, none of them questioning it once they saw you. Not that they’d do that anyway. Sevika had too much power, too much ego.
She walked with you to the nearest bench, sat you on it, grabbed a chair and spun it in front of you before straddling it with gauges in her hand.
“You give me a headache.” She sighed, ripping one of the antiseptic wipes open to clean your face with. You knew she cared and she wasn’t serious. Her doing this for you proved it. She wouldn’t go out of her way to clean someone else’s wounds. Just yours, because she loved you.
“Me too.” You joked, noting how much your brain felt like it was pulsing. She only huffed out of her nose, a tiny smile momentarily on her lips as she leaned in towards your face. You let her grip your jaw with her free hand, knowing you’d pull away once the alcohol transferred into your wounds. “Wait-”
She didn’t give you time. She, as gently as she could, held onto your face as she wiped away the dirt in your face. You tried to pull away but her grip was just strong enough to keep you put, her eyes softening momentarily as you winced and shook your head.
Your headache only increased when she stopped. The extra movements didn’t work in your favour, so now you put your head in your hands and tried to cover your eyes from the light.
“Come on, let’s go home.” She spoke, standing up and moving the chair, extending her arms out for you to take. “You can rest your concussion there.”
Slowly but surely you made your way to the exit of the loud bar, where several others where still drinking and partying on the stage.
You kept close to Sevika. Her warmth was enough to comfort you through your wounded body, but yet the headache only got worse and worse. You didn’t think anything of it at first, but now your vision blurred. Things turned into clouds of colours and nothing was audible apart from the hum of some voices. You barely made it out of The Last Drop before you could feel yourself passing out, the rest was nothing but a black void.
“Stop moving.” Sevika’s strong voice said in a quiet whisper as you groaned. You wanted to move, but yet again the same full ache in your head prevented you from doing so. “You’re never going out alone again. I swear to God, (Y/N).”
You huffed some air out of your lungs, eyes opening slightly to let the minimum amount of light coming through. She saw this, watching as you struggled to make eye contact with her. With a sigh, she pushed herself off her bed and walked towards her window, closing the blinds tightly before returning back to sit next to you.
“You have a concussion.” An ice pack was slowly being placed on your head, a relief you could only sigh in content to. She watched with furrowed eyebrows like a hawk, she didn’t even know what for. She was just looking at you.
“I’m not dying, Sev.” You whispered, basically feeling holes being drilled into your skull from her intense eyes.
“You made me think you were.” It came out harsher than she wanted it to, making you open your eyes fully this time. Her gaze softened as you looked up at her, an apologetic smile small on your lips.
“I’m sorry. They just attacked me some nowhere.”
She remained quiet, a sad sigh escaping her lips as she continued to press the ice pack to different parts of your head.
It took a while, but you managed to sit up on your own without being dizzy. Sevika though, wouldn’t let you leave the bed. She’d brought you everything and enough to last you weeks. Safe to say you weren’t leaving anytime soon, not without Sevika.
It’s was okay though, because you persuaded her to lay with you so you got endless cuddles and constant movie marathons ;)
THE END
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ceptricus · 1 month
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Jinx
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hornedgod · 13 days
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science is magic!
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icepackgod · 1 month
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jinx w colour
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dismas-n-dismay · 27 days
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And what if I dropped the arcane edit of the year and tiktok let it flop like I didnt eat.
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princesssmars · 1 year
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in love with the piltover enforcer
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some thoughts about your relationship with vi through the years
contains : fluff. reader is an orphan taken in by benzo and described as ekkos older (adoptive) sister. feels like most of this isn't even relationship headcanons but reader in arcane headcanons but whatever.
a/n : we loveee starting this in march 2022 and releasing it when the vi x reader tag is dead ass <3. anyway big shout out to @jackdrawsjunk and @kittyt-hexxed for feeding us black girls in love with vi <3333 anyway lets get into this shit.
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there was one thing that kept you alive in the lanes: family. it was an unforgiving city, the complete opposite of the polished and pristine piltover beside it. the people were rough, and you'd be lucky if some punk only tried to rob you once a week. most loners only lasted a few days.
which is why every night you thanked the gods for your family. it felt silly considering that you were an orphan, but most ended up falling into gangs or worse to protect themselves. you were lucky that before they passed your parents were great friends with the local pawn shop owner, benzo, the man taking you and another boy named ekko under his wings.
because of him, you met vander, the large man who seemed intimidating actually being one of the nicest adults you've ever met in the lanes. when you first met ekko was slightly scared, hiding behind you as you tried to protect him. vander said he admired your protectiveness, and how you reminded him of someone who he thought you would get along with.
when you meet vi for the first time it just…clicks. vander wasn't wrong, the two of you more alike than you would have thought, most notably in the way you were protective over your siblings. they got along wonderfully, unable to spot one without the other. their closeness resulted in yours and you found yourself growing feelings for the pink-haired girl.
thinking back on your pining you laugh, how you refrained from telling vi about your feelings worried you would ruin the relationship if she didn't return your feelings, not knowing that she had a massive crush on you as well. vander pushed her to confess once he noticed, giving her good advice compared to mylo’s “stop being a pussy.”
it’s during one of your usual hangouts sitting on the rooftop of the shop and gazing out at your crappy home and beyond, at the gleaming buildings of piltover and fantasizing about what your life could be like that she stood up and took your hands in hers, telling you shed do whatever it took to give you the life you wanted because she wanted nothing more than for you to be happy. your heart felt like it was going to beat out of your chest as you asked her what she meant, and the look in her eyes told it all.
after that, your relationship was relatively easy. the both of you still hung out often, just with the added bonus of longer hugs and kisses when the others weren't watching so you wouldn't be bombarded with “ew!”s.
unfortunately, there weren't that many romantic spots for private dates, but vi having been ever the persistent made a way. she took on more chores helping vander at the bar, getting some money in return to save up, and buying you some expensive snack from piltover you wanted to try while talking and laughing on the roof.
but things started to go downhill with growing tensions between the two cities, coming to a head with the failed heist. vi hadn't told you much, not wanting you to worry and slightly forgetting when she saw the way you reaffirmed powder that she would do great on their “little adventure”.
it’s safe to say when they got back you were livid. of course, you were thankful that they were ok but vi could admit she was slightly scared at the way you glared holes into her head when vander was criticizing her. she had apologized, and you were still upset but felt better.
but it didn't help, because, in the next few days, your life was ruined.
enforcers stormed the lanes. your father figure and most of your friends were murdered. and you were left with a broken home, a devastated brother, the sister of your best friend lost and left with only a memory of the girl you used to love.
but ekko needed you, and you had to stay strong. for him, for powder who was on the brink of losing herself for good, and for the voice of vi in your dreams who told you to keep going no matter what.
and so you had worked together with ekko to build the firelights, a new community to help uplift people who had been in similar situations to you and take out the drug that had helped to make everything worse.
you were doing good work so far, thankful that you and your brother were geniuses and had created the hoverboards and many other devices to keep you safe and help your mission. life was getting better, even if you still caught yourself sitting at the memorial wall late at night thinking of what your life could've been like if you would have pushed more and never let vi and the others go on that heist.
it seems like the gods in a sick trick may have heard your thoughts. after going out to do some scouting after a tip, ekko headed back to the hideout with two captives in tow, refusing to tell you what was going on until later. you understand why he didn't because if he told you your girlfriend who had been dead for six years had been found walking through the lanes with an enforcer you might have smacked him.
she was standing and looking at the memorial wall when he brought you to her, looking just as beautiful as the day you lost her. her hair was still focused to one side while shaved on the other, bringing up the memory of how her face had reddened when you told her she looked hotter that way. you don't get time to dwell when she’s running up to you and squeezing you into her arms.
you tried to stay strong, but she burrowed her nose into your neck and whispered “god, did I miss you, muffin,” you couldn't help but crumple into her arms.
you took her back to your room and she explained everything, the factory, silco, stillwater. it broke your heart a little to realize you thought she was gone when she was actually so close. you'd never wanted to kill the sheriff more than you did in that moment.
when she told you she was going to go after jinx you were divided. you had encountered your childhood friend, who at some points felt more like a little sister, multiple times over the years. sometimes you'd be able to see glimpses of the girl underneath when you snuck into her place with silco and held her so the voices would be quieter. but you also had seen how much she deteriorated, and as much as you didn't want to admit it you knew powder was gone.
but you believed in vi, and told her as much. it was hard to send her off to the bridge, much less with an enforcer, but you knew it had to be done. but it felt like what happened six years ago happened again, you staying behind and everything going wrong. vi and the enforcer had fled to who knows where and there was no sign of ekko until he popped up with a former council member?
vi popped up a few days later, looking defeated and craving comfort. she didn't need to be invited but you do anyway, telling her she may stay with the firelights for as long as she needed.
vi had been eager to make up for lost time, following you around almost like a puppy when you were showing her the ins and outs of the hideout. despite the stress of the things going on in your lives, it was so easy to fall back into a friendly and romantic relationship with her.
it became strained however when she was offered the job to be an enforcer, helping manage the tense relationship between zaun and piltover. she was excited about the opportunity, ready to help her community in any way how. but you couldn't help but be scared of how it might change her to be around the people who took part in making your life worse.
but you believed in vi, and knew she’d do everything she could to make your home better.
she had already started beforehand by helping with some firefly runs, it being easier to clean up the mess of shimmer left with silco’s death. it warmed your heart to see her coming back from a run laughing and joking with the other firelights.
she continued your beloved tradition, taking you up with her to the top of the tree to observe the stars together. you both didn't speak much, the comfort of each other enough for this moment.
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a-small-cretur · 5 months
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arcane s2 next year i hope they fuck hold hands
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somedaylazysomeday · 2 months
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Noisy - Part Three
Viktor is going to be busy in the lab for the next week. He comes over to tell you personally.
Viktor x fem!reader
Rating: Explicit. Minors DNI
Word Count: 5,200
Warnings: Arguments, misunderstandings, Viktor has a chip on his shoulder, fingering, unprotected piv sex, discussions of sex with disabilities, creampie
Previous | Next | Masterlist
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The knock on your door was a surprise. 
Not that you didn’t have friends, but very few of them worked or studied at the Academy of Science, Technology, and Innovation in Piltover. Of that small group, even fewer of them would come visit you at your apartment unannounced.
Which meant it was probably one of your neighbors. Your downstairs neighbor was a rather bubbly girl attempting to become a professional musician. She studied under a cellist who taught at the Academy - though you had never quite managed to figure out why a school of science and engineering had a concert orchestra. In any case, she helped conduct the orchestra when she wasn’t working with the professor and gave lessons to students in her off hours. 
But given that you hadn’t heard any music coming from her apartment that day, she was probably preparing for the holiday concert that the orchestra was putting on next week. 
That left Viktor - scientist, assistant to the Academy’s Dean, and your upstairs neighbor.
He was also the man you had shared a brief sexual encounter with a few weeks prior. In your defense, you had been trying to force him to go to sleep so he would stop making so much noise late at night. It didn’t hurt that Viktor was devastatingly attractive, but you had really been more focused on the sleep. 
Another knock shook you from your reverie. It was softer, almost hesitant, and you hurried to open the door. 
Sure enough, Viktor stood on the other side. You took a moment to congratulate yourself for your deductive reasoning, then smiled at him. “Hey Viktor. What’s up?” 
He smiled back, but it looked sickly. You watched his thumb strum nervously along the handle of his cane. “I wanted to let you know that I spoke to Heimerdinger and got permission to work late in the lab next week.” 
You nodded thoughtfully. “I know that curfew has been the bane of your existence for a while now. Do you have a specific project you’re working on or is he just tired of you trying to break in?” 
Viktor’s uncomfortable smile turned to a scowl and you fought back a chuckle. Stiffly, he told you, “I do not try to break in, I-” 
A hand lifted between the two of you interrupted whatever he intended to say next. With your most serious expression, you said, “Viktor! I don’t want to be a party to your crimes!” 
He gave a deep sigh. “You are a menace.” 
You finally broke, and your laughter made him smile. It was a real one and you reached out to pat his arm. “There you are. I needed to see you happy, not fake happy. You’re a terrible actor.” 
Viktor rolled his eyes, though he was still smiling. “And to think I was trying to be a considerate neighbor…”
“Go ahead,” you told him. He raised an eyebrow and you laughed despite yourself. “I’m serious! I’m done. Please say what you came here to say.” 
Though he still looked deeply skeptical, Viktor relented. “I received permission to conduct experiments outside of the lab curfew. I will be working late at the lab for much of the next week. I wanted to tell you myself.” 
A realization was tingling at the back of your mind, but like any good scientist, you needed to test it. You kept your face blankly serene as you nodded. “Thank you for letting me know, Viktor. I hope your experiments go well.” 
He looked mildly disappointed. “Thank you. And I hope your week is pleasant. You will not have me around to make noise over your head.” 
“That will take some getting used to,” you teased. 
“And you likely will not see me very often,” Viktor added, ducking his head at your joke. “When I am home, I will be sleeping. And we work in such different sections of the campus…”
You nodded slowly, your hypothesis all but proven. “That’s good to know. I would have wondered if you were avoiding me.” 
“Never,” he denied instantly. 
That made you feel warm, as did the way Viktor stood in the hall, nervously shifting his weight back and forth as his thumb tapped frantically at the handle beneath his fingers. Despite his clear unease, Viktor glanced at you every few seconds, eyes bright and hopeful in a way that you found both amusing and sweet. 
“I suppose I should leave you,” Viktor admitted, slumping slightly. 
“You know,” you started, pausing the half-pace Viktor had taken in the opposite direction. “If you want to sleep together, all you have to do is ask. If that’s in any way what you were-”
“Can we sleep together?”
The immediacy of the question made you laugh aloud even as you nodded and stepped back. “Well, I was in the middle of grading some papers, but it can wait.” 
“I can wait, if you prefer?” Viktor said, in the middle of crossing the threshold into your apartment. 
“No, you’re going to be gone for the next week,” you reminded. “Besides, this sounds much better than slogging through another essay on population ecology. Come on inside.” 
Viktor seemed almost sprightly as he stepped into your apartment, the tip of his cane hardly touching the ground. He looked around eagerly, studying the interior of your living room with such intensity that you were forcibly reminded that he had never seen it before. With that in mind, you did your best to look around with a fresh perspective. 
The furniture was well-worn - all of it was, in this particular housing unit - but you had done what you could. You'd used an assortment of soft blankets to cover stains or tears while comfortable pillows that shielded your back from spots where the padding beneath the upholstery had all but disappeared. The small table in front of the couch bore stacks of textbooks, reference guides, and the aforementioned papers you had been grading. 
The apartment’s small kitchen was visible from where Viktor was standing, a wine bottle and an old dish sitting in plain sight on the countertop. But you were far too wary of pests to allow any kind of mess in the kitchen, so you didn’t have much to be embarrassed of in there. 
Overall, it was a little messy - especially compared to the stark desolation of Viktor’s apartment - but the most notable feature of your living room wasn’t found in the furniture or in the traces of your work that were scattered around. 
You had installed a collection of corkboards and dry-erase boards around the apartment. The corkboards held the results of your latest experiments while the dry-erase boards held scrawled collections of notes and ideas about relationships between criteria. Your goal was to go around and gather those musings once per week so you could erase the boards, but it had been a while and they were cluttered with your handwriting. 
Anyone else might have made some bland comment about your apartment, but Viktor cut directly to what interested him. After moving to study one of the dry-erase boards more closely, he gestured to it and asked, “What are you attempting to calculate?” 
“Well, each board is set up to have its own focus,” you explained. “On that one in particular, I’m trying to figure out why the toxicity in the Sump level of the Undercity is as high as it is.” 
Viktor’s shoulders tightened, but his voice was bland as he said, “Perhaps it has something to do with the large levels of industrial waste and chemical byproduct that moves through or is stored in the area.” 
He was here to fuck, not fight, you reminded yourself. And yet, even after you had taken a breath and bitten back your immediate harsh response, you couldn’t let the implied insult to your scholarly skills go unchallenged. 
You marched to a corkboard on the other side of the doorway, tapping it sharply with your forefinger. “Yes, I realize that, but look at the particular levels of these toxins. They don’t match up with those you would expect to see from anything produced by the plants in Factorywood.”
“No Undercity industries admit to what they are truly producing,” Viktor said, eyes still roaming over your hastily written notes. They lingered on where you had written ‘Silco?’ beneath a particularly strong toxin found in some products from Priggs Industries. 
“”Of course they don’t,” you agreed easily. “But the toxic by-products still generally match up with what everyone knows the factories are producing. From these numbers, someone on the Sump level is creating chemical products in a quantity that threatens the existence of the entire city, not to mention the serious health risks linked to living in the Gray.”
Viktor sighed, his dark eyes meeting yours. There was a deep sadness in their depths, and it made your heart ache to see it. “It is a noble thing to work on a problem like the Undercity’s health. But you will not get far with it. Piltover has more to gain from looking to the future rather than fixing the problems of the present or the past.” 
“You’re from the Undercity, right?” you asked, needlessly. You knew where Viktor was from. Everyone did - it was one of the reasons he struggled to be respected despite his incredible intellect. 
“You think I do not care for where I am from?” he asked, a sharpness in his voice. “You think I would not keep others from enduring what I endured?” 
The sharp thump of his cane against the floor was loud in your living room, but you kept from wincing. With your steady gaze fixed on him, you slowly shook your head. “I don’t think that at all, Viktor. But I also think Piltover will care about these findings, even if it’s just for self-preservation purposes.” 
“You realize they are more likely to clear the Undercity than make meaningful changes?”
That was something you hadn’t truly considered, though you should have. Anyone with a brain knew that Piltover’s treatment of the Undercity had been reckless and unhelpful. 
Still, you lifted your chin. “I will keep that in mind moving forward, but I have to believe I can do something meaningful to help the people who have no choice but to live there.”
Viktor was quiet then, his gaze fixed blankly on the dry-erase board in front of him as his thoughts consumed him. Eventually, he tilted his head to give you a sidelong look. “Why are the boards next to doorways?” 
You smiled despite yourself. “Sometimes, I get flashes of inspiration if I only catch a glimpse of a problem. Something about seeing the information as I walk into and out of a room when I’m doing another task makes me think differently about a problem. That’s why the boards are everywhere, too - so I can write down what I’ve thought of before it has a chance to get away.” 
“It is a good idea,” Viktor admitted. 
“The Academy has plenty more boards and you definitely have the space for them,” you teased. 
The ghost of a smile flitted over Viktor’s face and the odd tension disappeared. "Perhaps I should look into having some installed. They certainly seem to be helping you." 
You made a face at him, but there was no real antagonism in it. “I have to admit, I’m surprised you’re so interested in the boards. I thought you were here for other things.” 
Viktor’s gaze sharpened as he turned to face you, but his tone was light as he retorted, “Talking about your research findings doesn’t put you in the correct frame of mind? I would have thought better of such a respected scientist.” 
The unexpected teasing brought a delighted laugh to your lips as you gave a shallow bow. “I don’t think anyone thinks of me as a respected scientist, but I appreciate the sentiment.”
“I happen to have a great deal of respect for you,” Viktor said, the effort ruined somewhat by the way he was focused on your lips. “Can I kiss you?” 
“So much for respect,” you said, leaning eagerly toward him. Viktor was smirking when his soft lips pressed against yours. 
The first time you had kissed, Viktor had been hesitant. When he had gotten over his own discomfort, the depth of his need became apparent, but not before that. This time, his intensity was immediate. After a split second of softness, Viktor’s lips firmed and he used them to part yours so his tongue could slip into the space between them. 
Viktor tried to pull back at the surprised noise you made, but you weren’t having it. Your hands fisted in the front of his vest, keeping him close as you responded to his explorations with some of your own. Viktor was exceedingly sensitive, and you teased as many reactions from him as you could manage before you parted for air, both of you panting. 
“There is such a reaction when we kiss,” Viktor mused, almost to himself. “It cannot be simple chemistry.” 
“I don’t think there’s anything simple about it,” you countered wryly. “Besides, why can’t it be chemistry? Everything else is. Every smell or taste or touch… Chemistry is how we understand and interact with the world around us. Why should kissing be any different?” 
“You are being deliberately obtuse,” Viktor muttered, mouthing butterfly kisses over your jaw and down the side of your neck. You were swaying into the sensation when his lips parted to deliver a sharp nip to the tender skin. You groaned, but didn’t move away. 
“See?” Viktor asked. “Why should that feel pleasant? Simply because of chemistry?” 
“Dopamine, serotonin, and oxycontin,” you informed him. “They’re a strong combination.”
He rolled his eyes, but leaned in again, working his way back up until he could meet you in a furious kiss once more. It managed to be more intense than the first, though both of your attention was split. Viktor was ruching your shirt upward while you were doing your best to unbutton his vest. 
“Your skin is so soft…” he murmured, and you felt like you were on fire. 
Perhaps that was why you forgot yourself, giving his vest a sharp yank. Buttons scattered across the floor and Viktor gave a disbelieving laugh. You offered an apologetic look. “This would be much easier if you didn’t insist on wearing fourteen layers at all times.”
“You are right; that was my fault,” he agreed. You smiled, though it turned to a startled laugh when his fingers tickled up your ribcage. You probably would have protested more vocally if you hadn’t been so relieved at his pulling the shirt over your head. 
“No,” you said decisively, pushing his hands away. Viktor immediately withdrew, looking apologetic, horrified, and confused. “You don’t get the easy job. I’ll take off my own clothes and you deal with all of the buttons.”
Viktor’s eyebrows arched so sharply that they approached his hairline, but he obediently began to undress himself. You made short work of your own outfit and took a comfortable seat on the couch. The soft texture of a blanket teased at your buttocks and the backs of your bare thighs and you luxuriated in the feeling. Perhaps you should lounge around your apartment in the nude more often…
Then Viktor was approaching. He was completely bare and your breath caught at the beauty of him. He was pale, all long-limbs and angular joints. Dark freckles and moles dotted his skin, almost artistic in their placement. Instead of looking small and frail, Viktor put you in mind of a sculpture. He looked like a piece of ancient artwork, perfectly formed to capture a human emotion you recognized, but couldn’t quite verbalize.
The thatch of hair at his pubic bone was dark, eye-catching surrounded by the stretches of pale skin. His cock rose from that darkness, proud and erect, the slightest hint of an upward curve that promised to do delicious things inside of you. 
Before Viktor could come too close to the couch, you stood and motioned for him to turn around. “Let’s go to my room. I want us to be comfortable.” 
When he nodded, you led the way to your room. It was plain compared to the rest of your apartment. You tried to keep the most chaotic parts of your work away. Bedrooms were for sleeping, not thinking, and you did your best to keep the two from being combined in your mind. 
But there were still touches of your personality spread around. You had specifically requested a bed that was larger than average. There were pillows scattered at the head, each one a slightly different softness so you could use whatever pillow you needed for each specific day. They were matched by different blankets across the lower part of the bed. Each one was made of different fabrics, but all of them felt like heaven against your skin. 
You stepped toward the bed, but froze when Viktor let out a soft chuckle behind you. “What?”
Viktor gestured toward the bed with his free hand. “It seems they have allocated my returned bed to you.” 
It took a moment for that to sink in, but then you belted out a laugh. “Thank you for your sacrifice, then. I hope to give you a glimpse of what you gave up.”
“It has a better life here than I could ever give it with me.” When you looked at him, Viktor was studying your body with obvious admiration. 
Before you could tell him how utterly cheesy that was - no matter how charming you found it as well - he stepped into kissing range. Well, you had always heard it was better to show than to tell…
This kiss was no less demanding than the last had been. In fact, each touch seemed to increase in urgency, building toward a precipice. It was exactly what you wanted from someone you were about to sleep with, and you started to get impatient with the teasing touches. 
“Any-” kiss “Any preference?” kiss “For position, I mean.” 
Viktor looked dazed, drunk on your lips, but a concerning thought jarred you from your self-satisfaction. “Wait, this isn’t your- Is this the first time you’ve done this?” 
He frowned at you, color rising high on his cheekbones. “Did you not ask this the last time?”
“Did I?” Honestly, as much as you had thought about that night in the time since it happened, very few of your thoughts had centered on the conversation you’d shared before your focus shifted to other things. “And what was the answer?”
“No, believe it or not,” he grumbled. “I have managed to find at least one partner before you.” 
“Oh, good.” 
Viktor’s eyebrows shot upward at that. “Not quite the reaction I had expected.”
“Sorry,” you offered instantly, hoping you hadn’t hurt his pride. Viktor seemed a little sensitive about his self-image. “I just meant that I’m glad you found someone you wanted to share this with in the past.” 
“How magnanimous,” he said dryly. “But I would prefer if you wanted to share this with me now instead of asking if I am virginal.”
“Virginal?” you asked, nose wrinkling. “Am I an 18th century lord? I don’t care if you’re- ah!”
With a well-placed push, Viktor had sent you sprawling across the bed. The sheer number of blankets over the mattress meant that the impact was so minimal that you hardly noticed it, but you still took a moment to blink up at Viktor in surprise. 
For his part, Viktor looked so self-satisfied that his expression verged on smug. He stepped up to the edge of the bed and stooped to lean over you when you remembered your original point. 
“Wait, I was asking for a reason,” you protested. 
A look of genuine irritation crossed Viktor’s handsome face. “No, you are not my first.”
“Not-” You took a second to give a silent laugh. “Not that. I meant about positions. Do you have a preference?” 
“Not in the slightest,” he assured you. “Now, if you were to ask for my preferences on when we get together, I have several strong opinions-”
“And your leg will be okay?” you asked softly. Viktor paused. “I don’t want this to hurt you.”
“I am not so delicate,” he said. “Any further objections?” 
“Only that you’re not already inside of me.” 
The stunned look on Viktor’s face at your tongue-in-cheek answer was a glorious sight to see. But it was fleeting; only a moment later, his jaw firmed with determination and he crawled onto the bed. Most of his weight was supported on his arms, planted firmly on either side of you, and the weight that remained on his legs didn’t seem to bother Viktor in the slightest. 
So you didn’t feel bad for losing yourself in the sensations. 
Perhaps, given the nature of your first hookup, you shouldn’t have been shocked that Viktor would want to explore. He sucked a mark over your collarbone, and you could feel his smile at the noises it pulled from you. When his clever fingers dropped to your breast, you froze under his touch. Viktor finally pulled away from the tender place on your skin, but only so he could study every microexpression that crossed your face at the feeling of his fingers on the sensitive peak. 
When he finally pulled away, you arched into his retreating touch. Viktor managed to soothe you into lying against the bed once more. That made it far easier for him to lower himself onto top of you, his hips pressing squarely between your thighs. Suddenly, losing his hand on your breast felt like a fair trade. 
When those talented fingers drifted down to your core, you wriggled impatiently. “I’m ready, I promise. Please, Viktor…”
He looked conflicted. “I know. I will give both of us what we want in a moment. But I- I need to feel you.”
Any further arguments you might have made faded away with the feeling of his long finger sinking into you. Your body accepted him easily, so easily that you might have been embarrassed by it if you weren’t so relieved by the feeling of something to grip with your desperate muscles. 
Viktor withdrew his finger far too soon. You groaned when he studied it for a moment before putting it in his mouth. Then you were groaning together and your core clenched so sharply that it took your breath away. 
“Viktor-”
He gave a decisive nod, lined the head of himself up with your entrance, and began pushing inside of you. As if your body was angry at having lost your previous stimulation so soon, the muscles of your channel contracted around his length. In fact, they spasmed so hard that Viktor paused. 
“Am I hurting you?” 
The real concern in his voice was sweet, but you were nearing desperation. “Only because you’re going so slow. Please, Viktor…”
He gave a stuttered half-thrust into you, clearly trying to stop himself before he drove too hard into you. With a crooked smile, he said, “Have I ever mentioned that I enjoy hearing you say my name?” 
“No, but I can do better than that,” you offered. “Start moving now and I’ll scream it for you.” 
Viktor’s eyes widened and he started a series of pulsing thrusts, each one driving himself a little further inside of you. When he was - at last - as deep as he could be, you both paused to soak in the sensations of it. His hips were flush against your ass and one of you was throbbing. You were too close to know which of you it was. 
Most of your focus was on the realization that you had been right: that slight curve of Viktor’s length was in exactly the right place to press against your g-spot. The delicious pressure of it made your toes curl and you lifted your hips in an effort to urge him deeper. 
When you remembered that your eyes worked, you smiled a little to see the intense concentration on Viktor’s face. Your hands smoothed down his back and when they were as low as you could reach, you pulled him closer, urging him into motion.
For someone who had a tendency to be oblivious, Viktor took the hint beautifully. With an audible sound from where you were joined, he pulled out. His motions were achingly slow, but he thrust back in before his head could leave you entirely. This push of his hips was made up of more mini-thrusts. The next only had a few. Then he was driving full-force into you at a pace that took your breath away. 
And his. 
Getting a little winded during sex wasn’t exactly uncommon, especially when things were as heated as they were with Viktor, but it worried you. The legs you had wrapped around his waist - though you couldn’t remember exactly when you had done that - could feel tremors wracking the right side of his body. They seemed to stem from his weaker leg, and it was quickly growing more severe. He was frowning, and while it seemed to be mostly concentration, there was more than a hint of genuine pain buried in the wrinkles of his forehead.
“Viktor,” you started, cutting off with a low cry when he slammed into you. “Viktor, wait.” 
It took another half thrust for your request to filter through the fog of good sex. When it did hit him, Viktor slowed, though you could see the strain of it in his muscles. “What is it?” 
“Roll over,” you said. “I can tell you’re hurting.” 
An expression of displeasure crossed his face. “I told you: I am fine.” 
“You aren’t,” you argued, watching his face turn incredulous. “Viktor, I can see it. It’s not a bad thing. I like being on top.” 
“I don’t need you to pretend you know what’s best for me!” he snapped. 
Arguing with someone who was currently buried inside of you was a new experience. From the stubbornness in Viktor’s eyes and the set of his jaw, he wasn’t going to let you win. You would bash yourself to pieces against the stone of Viktor’s personality. But maybe you could try a different tactic…
“Please, Viktor,” you murmured. “I promise, I’ll still make things feel good for both of us. Just let me do this. Let me take care of both of us, even if you don’t need me to.”
You watched him think that over. A direct and combative approach wouldn’t get anywhere with Viktor, he had spent too much of his life fighting. But the one-two punch of logic and emotion helped you get through the walls he had built around himself. 
He didn’t agree verbally - that would be too much like admitting defeat. But he carefully withdrew from you and settled onto the bed beside you. When you realized what was happening, you scrambled upright and straddled his thighs as soon as he was fully horizontal. 
The brief pause had done strange things to your libido, but it came roaring back as soon as you saw Viktor lying beneath you, his body still hard and eager and shining with remnants of you. 
You sank down onto him so quickly that it pulled a startled noise from both of you. And then you were moving, surging up and down so quickly that the muscles of your legs started aching almost immediately. That wasn’t enough to stop you, not nearly, especially when you saw the stunned pleasure on Viktor’s face. 
You rested your hands gently on his chest, using him more for balance than a true counterpoint, but Viktor thrust his hips sharply. The force of it knocked you off balance, pushing you forward until you were braced against him. 
His hands covered yours, keeping them planted over his heart. You glanced up at him, unsurprised to see Viktor’s intense gaze fixed on you. “I will not break.” 
You nodded, taking the low promise as truth. With the additional weight resting on your hands, your legs lifted you far more easily, working up and down on his shaft. Pressing your hips backward let you brush your clit against the thatch of coarse hair at Viktor’s base, but it also pressed that slight curve against your g-spot. Your inner muscles tightened so hard and fast that Viktor made a shocked noise and you started having trouble keeping your rhythm. 
“Are you close?” he asked, chest rising and falling more rapidly under your hands. 
You didn’t quite trust your voice, so you nodded again. He nodded with you. “Me too. Where-?”
“Inside,” you interrupted. You used birth control for several reasons, but sex actually wasn’t one of them. Having someone come inside of you wasn’t a sensation you particularly enjoyed, but you were close and pulling out was always tricky when you were on top. And Viktor felt so good…
His eyes widened. “Are you-?”
Before he could ask if you were sure, you had fallen over the edge. You fingers curled against Viktor’s skin, legs tingling so badly that you almost stopped moving on him. But as if your body was willing to circumvent your brain to keep the stimulation going, your legs and hips and torso kept going. You were moving up and down and forward and back all in an effort to chase the incredible pleasure that wracked your body and made your movements stutter.
Somewhere in the middle of your orgasm, Viktor reached his as well. He stiffened under your hands and between your legs, thrusting into you to drive you both higher. You felt his length twitch and pulse inside of you, along with a general sense of warmth as he spilled. 
When the incredible flood of endorphins began to fade, you collapsed like a puppet with cut strings. You slumped forward onto Viktor’s chest with him still buried deep inside of you. His hand came to rest on your back, stroking your overheated flesh. You stayed like that for a long while, your ear pressed to the reassuring sound of his gradually slowing pulse. 
“That was incredible,” he said eventually. His voice was low, but the awe in it was unmistakable. 
“It was pretty good,” you agreed. 
A displeased noise escaped him and you lifted your head to look at him, wincing at the way your sweaty skin had stuck to his. “What’s wrong?” 
“There is a considerable difference between ‘incredible’ and ‘pretty good’,” he told you, the disgust clear in his voice. 
You were already smiling at the way ‘pretty good’ sounded in his accent. “Sorry, I meant it was the single most mind-blowing experience of my entire life. Is that better?” 
Viktor hummed, but his amber eyes sparkled down at you. “That seems like a lie. But it is fine. We can work up to incredible.” 
You chuckled at that, and Viktor pressed a kiss to the back of your hand as you settled back against him.
---
Author's Note - You'll note that this isn't a two-part fic, but there will be another Viktor fic this Fanfic February because I had two ideas that I liked.
Thanks for reading! Please let me know what you thought!
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wow-wink · 2 years
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Arcane + Text posts
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luinquesse · 1 year
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The little merch piece I did for @jayvikzine
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a-mermaids-heart · 2 years
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someone, i tell you, in another time will remember us (part i)
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Pairing: Vi x fem!reader
Warnings: Canon-typical violence, panic attack, death  Summary: You meet your childhood crush again, years later. 
Read part ii.
A/N: I wanted yearning and angst!!  ***
Your evening routine goes like this:
You help your mother with her daily dose of shimmer, make your bed, and ignore the dead girl in the corner of your cramped room. She never says anything, but you know what she would say if she could speak, just like in your dreams.
It hurts less, to think of her as just a girl and not as your sister. On good days, you don’t see her, or she only appears in your peripheral vision.
But it never lasts long.
Your family had been bigger, once, but you don’t like to linger on that either.
Which, if you were honest with yourself, is hard to do. Everywhere you go in Zaun reminds you of them, and what you lost. The Last Drop had been a second home to you. You and your sister used to spend all of your time with Vi and Powder. You were a year older than Powder, and both of you being little sisters, had quickly bonded over that. You even confided in her about your crush on Vi. Unlike Powder’s, however, your big sister never let you come on any of their heists.
And then, the same night you’d lost everyone, you’d gotten your sister killed.
This evening, however, is different. You’re completing your last run through a back alley—
Pain tears through your left shoulder. Before you can react, you fall hard against the opposite wall. Your vision swims, the pain all consuming. You might have passed out, but the pain never fades.
After what feels like ages later, a blur—a person? Crouches over you. Familiar pink hair, blue eyes, freckles.
Of course. Of course you’d see her as you were dying. “Vi,” you try to say, or maybe you really do. You’re not sure as unconsciousness drags you under.
When you next wake, it is in an unfamiliar room, in an unfamiliar bed. Fresh air flows through the open window. Gingerly, you sit up and feel your head, which still aches. Someone has changed you into your underclothes, but they’d obviously been washed. The room you’re in is cozy, round, with rough wooden floors and walls. There are trees outside.
But where are you? And—your mother. You were late—
The room blurs as your eyes fill with tears. Before you had passed out, you were supposed to deliver it within the hour. Your mother—what if she—
The dead girl, your dead sister, floats closer to your bed. She smiles and rests her hand on your cheek. You can almost feel it, her thumb stroking your cheek, just like she did when you were little. She speaks: “Mama is just like me, now.”
Between one blink and the next, your sister’s face disappears, replaced by—
Vi cradles your face in her hands. She’s saying something, and it takes a moment for the ringing in your ears to fade and for you to take in what she says. She’s repeating your name.
“Vi?” You ask, voice hoarse.
She smiles, leaning closer to press a kiss to the top of your head. “Yeah, it’s me, sweetheart. You’re alright. Breathe with me.”
You tremble and cold sweat prickles down the back of your neck. You listen to the rise and fall of her breath, trying to match her rhythm. Dimly, you’re aware of other people leaving the room, leaving you and Vi alone. Vi hands you a glass of water from the bedside table. You gulp it down, wiping your face. She certainly looks different, and hasn’t given up fighting judging by her muscular arms.
Your throat tightens with tears. You grip the bedsheets to hide your shaking hands. What do you ask first? What do you say? All you can blurt is, “I don’t understand. You’re not dead?”
“I’m not. There’s a lot to explain.”
Numbly, you listen as Vi explains how that fateful night really went down, and why she couldn’t be here until now. She also explains how you’d ended up here—she’d fought with Sevika, who had crashed into you, causing you to fall against the opposite wall and hit your head. Vi and a new friend (she wasn’t specific on the details) carried your unconscious body and encountered Jinx before being taken by the Firelights. Your skin prickles at the mention of Jinx—you’ve never seen her, but she has a fearsome reputation.
You resist the urge to reach for Vi again, feeling like she’ll disappear. Get a grip, you think, it’s been years. She never liked you back, anyway.
“How long was I out?” You ask instead, dreading the answer.
“Just for the night,” Vi says. To your surprise, she reaches out and takes your hands, squeezing them tight. Her familiar rough hand wraps almost make you tear up again. She did the same when you were both younger, whenever you got scared. Her hands are just as steady now. “Ekko wants me to tell you that your mother is okay.”
The tightness in your chest eases. “Wait—I don’t understand, how does he know—”
“Ah, well, apparently he’s formed this group—the Firelights. They’ve been keeping tabs on you.”
Part of you is a little hurt that he never reached out, but another part understands perfectly why he didn’t, considering the line of work you do. Reluctantly, you release her hands, running your own through your sweaty hair and flopping back on the pillows, exhausted all of a sudden. You peek one eye open to see Vi gazing at you. Quickly, you close your eyes again, before you can linger at the bow of her lips or the warmth in her eyes.
“What?” You ask.
“You just look different. All grown up,” she says.
“I bet I look like shit.”
“You look tired.” Vi squeezes your knee briefly, then stands. “Rest a while longer—”
“Don’t go!” The words are out before you can feel embarrassed.
She brushes two fingers lightly along your cheek. “I’ll be right outside, I promise.”
You watch her leave, shame heating your face. Ridiculous. Seeing her once, and now you are just as flustered as you’d been when you were younger.
Vi is, indeed outside the door once you finish washing up. Your head still hurts, but your vision is steady, and you feel like a new person freshly scrubbed and in clean clothes.
Her face lights up when she sees you, but before she can say anything, the dark-haired woman beside her speaks, “You’re awake, then?”
“Yes,” you say. She introduces herself as Caitlyn, and you introduce yourself as well. “Thank you. For not leaving me.”
“Vi insisted. It was tricky carrying you, I’m surprised you’re not more bruised.”
“Oh,” you reply. It seems moronic to say “thank you” again. Her probing stare makes you uncomfortable. It doesn’t feel like she’s being outright hostile—maybe lugging around your unconscious body annoyed her? The small hallway steeps in awkward silence.
You’re spared another grueling conversation when three cloaked figures round the corner. Still feeling vulnerable, you step closer to Vi. Her hand, familiar and calloused, finds yours and squeezes. Blushing, you start to turn to her when one of the figures flips his hood back.
Deep brown eyes meet yours. You both pause to take in each other’s features—he looks so grown up. You run into his arms. Ekko laughs and squeezes you tight. “Hey, you.”
You pull back and hit his shoulder lightly. “I can’t believe you didn’t come find me!”
Some of his brightness dims a little in sadness. “I didn’t—I didn’t know if I’d be welcome. After what happened with your sister.”
You feel Vi’s stare boring into the side of your face, and hot shame tightens your throat again. You close your eyes so you don’t see your sister’s ghost. Ekko pulls you into another hug, and says so only you can hear, “I’m sorry.”
You squeeze him back and reluctantly let go. It’s so nice to see him again. “Thank you. For looking after my mother.”
“It’s no trouble. We’ll continue to, until you’re recovered. I’d like to bring her here but…”
You shake your head. “No. This is more than enough.”
You’re happy to avoid Vi and Caitlyn as Ekko shows you around, (though you can tell they’re both whispering to each other) explains how he founded the Firelights. Your aching heart is soothed a bit by the leaves and trees and more fresh air than you’ve ever imagined. You can scarcely believe that it’s real. Ekko finishes showing you around, and you make a beeline to your room to rest, to process.
It doesn’t take long for Vi to come in (though, hadn’t you locked the door?) you don’t look at her as you tug on a sweatshirt Ekko left for you. You’ve always run cold.
Vi sighs and runs a hand back through her hair, sitting next to you on the bed. You used to do this, when you were younger. You would mess up, and afraid of telling your sister, you’d go to Vi instead. And she’d either assure you it would be okay, that your sister wouldn’t be disappointed in you, or help you talk to her herself. You wished she could do that now, but having her here is enough. And you’d both sit, just like this.  
Your hands are close enough that her pinky rests against yours, and it somehow feels scalding. There’s a loose thread on the black sweatshirt Ekko gave you, three of them actually— “You won’t look at me?” Vi’s voice breaks the silence.
Steeling yourself, you turn and look, and your pulse pounds in your ears anyway. She looks so achingly familiar and new all at once. You don’t want to talk about it, and you scramble for anything else to say, so you blurt out what comes to mind: “Do you trust Caitlyn?”
“She saved my life.”
That isn’t an answer, you think, but don’t say. “Are you okay? I mean, really okay, after Stillwater, after everything?”
Vi’s breath catches for a moment, and then she laughs wryly. “I have to be, don’t I?”
“You don’t,” you say. You want to follow it up with “because I’ll help you.” But what use would you be, really? When you were younger, any time you tried to help, fix something, you’d break it. And now, your best skill is running. Running away. You can’t even fight. Instead, what comes out is, “You can talk to me.” It  feels like an empty offering.
Vi takes your hand and squeezes. “You can talk to me too.”
Your breath shudders, because you want to, all of a sudden everything feels like too much, like your chest is a floodgate. But you can’t because what would you say? My sister is dead because of me. There’s not much else to explain.
You’re not sure why it’s all coming to the surface now. Maybe because, Vi has always meant safety, has always meant home.
Keeping hold of your hand, she slips off the bed to kneel in front of you. You squeeze your eyes shut until her other hand cups your cheek. “Hey.” You open your eyes, blinking away tears. “It’s okay. It wasn’t your fault.”
You laugh and wipe at your eyes. “You don’t know that.”
“I know you.”
Shaking your head, you lean back from her touch. As much as you missed her kindness, it hurts too much. “I’m fine. It was years ago.”
Vi doesn’t move. Her gaze pins you and you’re helpless but to look at her. When she speaks again, her voice is soft, “Ekko filled me in. Just his side but it was enough for me to know—it wasn’t your fault. Shit, sweetheart, you were just a kid.”
Biting your lip against the tears, you shake your head again. This is too much. This isn’t even what’s important right now. Vi reaches up, thumb brushing the tears away from your cheek. Your breath catches in your throat as her thumb grazes your lower lip. She pulls away before you can do something stupid, and stands, collapsing on the bed beside you.
“Mind if I stay?”
You flop down next to her, both on your sides facing each other. You ache to move closer to her, to bask in her reassurance like you used to. It suddenly feels like every night of missing her comes back full force. But your eyes sting, and you’re so tired, you don’t want to cry anymore. She sees the sorrow in your face anyway and presses her thumb against the divot between your brows.
“I missed you,” she says, and, “you saved me. In there.”
You snort. “How so? I didn’t even try and find you.”
“With Powder, I knew I had to get back to her. You, I didn’t—” she pauses, swallowing hard. “I didn’t know what happened to you. I knew I had to find you, or if you were gone—find whoever was responsible. It kept me going.”
You don’t know what to say to that, without spilling your heart out to her. Your hand twitches towards hers, and before you can take it, she grabs your hand, lacing your fingers together. Heat rushes up your face and you try to ignore it, squeezing her hand. “I missed you too.” You swallow, trying to find the words, wondering if there’s too much longing in your voice, if you’ve already given too much away. “I’m sorry you were stuck in there.”
She brings your hands a little closer, thumb tracing patterns on your skin. “I’m just glad you’re safe.”
You watch her eyes, and when that becomes overwhelming, drink in the other features of her face—the new eyebrow scar, how her face has sharpened. You trace the line of her throat, the gear tattoo peeking out from her jacket collar. You wonder what you must look like to her, if her heartbeat quickens like yours if you stare too long. Your eyelids start to droop and you blink awake in time to catch Vi gazing at you, face soft.
Your gaze snags on her lips. I could kiss her.
“You can sleep,” she whispers.
You scoot away and sit up, trying to calm your racing heart. Heat flares through you, electric like always when you’re near her. “I slept too much already.” You pause, unsure what to say. You don’t know what the next step for her is. “You have to go, right?”
“I do.”
“Can I…” you’re scared. What if she says no? “Can I come?”
To your surprise, Vi’s lips almost quirk into a smile. “Of course. Let’s go.”
***
Read part ii.
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