#viktor reader insert
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papa!Viktor blurb, anyone?
A/N: slowly, slowly, recovering from the creative drought ive been in
it's nowhere near a waterfall again, more like a frustrating dribble, BUT. It's something. But anyways, here is a Papa Viktor Thought Blurb (listen, my sister is almost three months old now, and I am so besotted with her, she's my favourite tiny person, and i am full of Caretaker Feelings)
Content Warning: 18+ MDNI (not explicit, but very very suggestive), afab!Reader, pregnancy, labour and birth (again, not explicit, but still with some depth), papa!Viktor, no beta no editing we simply die
Imagine Viktor, and him believing he'll be alone for his entire life - working so hard to make some kind of legacy for himself, putting everything he has into his creations and his machines. Every calculation, every experiment a labour of love.
This is how the world will remember his name.
At least, he hopes.
But then he meets you.
You're charming, he has to admit. You make friends wherever you go, and you have a weird habit of bringing people out of their shells. There's just...something about you that makes others want to bare their souls to you. Something that draws people in.
Like you have a tangible sort of gravity, and wherever you go, someone ends up in your orbit.
He won't mean much to you, he thinks, after conversing with you a couple times. You're creative, like he is, and you're enjoyable to talk to. But nothing more. Sooner or later, you'll continue on somewhere else, making waves and drawing attention. And in your wake, he will be left to sink. It's what expects.
Except...
You don't leave.
Your chats start out small. Short and sweet, a How are you today? wondered whenever you pass each other in the halls a couple times a month, curious about the goings-on of his life.
He never has anything interesting to tell you about. No adventures or tales to tell, nothing beyond the walls of a cramped and cluttered office.
You must be bored, he thinks.
But then you start seeking him out. Instead of just catching up for a couple minutes whenever you happen to walk past each other, you hunt him down in his office - and god, he wasn't lying when he'd told you it was cramped.
You're amazed he even has the space to think in there, with how tight it is. Yet you still shimmy yourself into the tiny room, careful not to disturb any piles of papers, and find a careful seat on a spot of open floor beside his desk. There's no room for a second chair, and you've always made it clear that you dislike standing when you're having a long conversation.
It's nice to sit down and rest somewhere together, you'd told him one time.
You grow closer after that. From seeing him a couple times a month, to a couple times a week, to literally every day. You don't seem to care that he never has anything 'exciting' to share with you, even going so far as to chastise him for calling himself uninteresting.
Your experiments are cool, you'd insisted, while leafing through one of his old journals. It's incredible to get to see how your mind works, and how creative and inventive you are. You have so many ideas, Viktor, and I really believe that they could help people.
Something changes in him, after that. He'd always been quieter around you, listening to your stories, and dutifully answering your questions: never quite letting you in.
Now he looks forward to seeing you.
His heart skips a beat every time he hears you knocking on his office door, a chipper little pattern reserved only for him. You know that he doesn't always like dealing with students after hours, so you'd come up with a way to let him know that it was you who was greeting him.
Things progress...surprisingly natural.
He's not subtle by any means, even if he thinks he is. The moment he realizes that he has feelings for you, all bets are off. His cheeks dust pink whenever you're around, his palms get sweaty and he fidgets, and the staring.
Looking at you with ill-contained admiration and affection.
You can't not kiss him.
You spend the next couple years having the time of your lives. Moving from classes and overbearing internships, to actively working on experiments. Collaborating with each other, drawing up ideas and debating functionality and form. The two of you get so heated when you're creating things together.
Neither of you are surprised when it devolves. Wide gestures and hasty chalkboard sketches, impassioned explanations and wild eyes - you bite your lip as you let your gaze trail over him, in all his dishevelled beauty. Hair a mess, tie crooked and loose, shirt partially unbuttoned, and sleeves rolled up to his elbows.
Many nights are spent like that, cooped up in his little laboratory, surrounded by sketches and blueprints and scribbles and stray notes. His fingertips digging into the soft of your skin as he kisses the breath out of you. The rhythmic clunking of his crooked desk most telling, as he draws forth your little squeaks and sighs of delight.
Absolutely ruining you, filling you, stretching you open. Feeling the way you tremble in his hands, held tight to his slender body as he reaches so deep into you that you'll feel him for days.
Sinking his teeth into the side of your neck when he finds his own release - to stay quiet, he tells you. But you both know it's his way of marking you.
Claiming you.
You're his. You're his person, his love, his partner. Your eyes only ever shine the way they do when you look at him.
Your body, splayed out and spread before him, quivering and gasping and covered in a thin sheen of sweat - his.
Your taste, sweet on his tongue - your mouth, your skin, your arousal that drips out of you whenever he so much as looks at you.
His.
And he knows, without a single atom of doubt, that he's also yours. So entirely entangled with each other, neither of you knowing how you'd managed to exist separately before now.
How had you possibly found beauty in every day, when you'd never heard his voice? Never caught a whiff of his sweet shampoo as he ambled past you? Never felt the warmth of his touch, or the puff of his sighs on your cheek? Never known the tickle of his hair on your bare skin as you slowly woke every morning to find him curled around you, his face smashed into your back and soft snores emanating from him?
No matter, you think. You have him now, and that's what's important.
...until everything changes.
You miss a period.
You tell him about it.
You're both on edge, but he tries to remain optimistic. Cycles can be upset sometimes, he tells you, as if you don't already know. (You're certain he's really just trying to reassure himself.)
But deep down, you know.
You can feel it in the all-encompassing tiredness you wake with every morning. In the random bouts of nausea, and the sudden food aversions. The back aches, and all the sudden new smells you can detect.
You know something is amiss.
And he knows, too, when he finds you one time in the middle of the night. Standing in your shared little kitchen, in the dark, illuminated only by the light of the open refrigerator.
Pulling pickles straight out of the jar, dipping them in mayonnaise, and sinking your teeth into them. Like they were to most delectable thing you'd ever ingested.
You're both terrified, of course.
You're not really surprised that you've managed to fall pregnant - not with the way you two lust after each other practically every night, and sometimes in the morning. Maybe even once or twice in between meetings, when you're both squished together in his compact office.
Neither of you ever thought you'd become parents.
And certainly not right now.
But...you want this, you realize. You want this with him. You want a family with him, you want the evidence of your love - you want a future with him, and you want to see what beautiful little person you'll make together.
Would they have his eyes? Yours? He hopes they have your smile, he tells you, eventually.
It takes you by surprise, his words, what with how quiet he'd been since you'd both figured everything out. You'd been worrying that he wasn't really on board with keeping the baby - with being a father. And you hadn't blamed him, really.
You'd been beyond stressed at the idea of raising a child alone. The thought of him leaving you, leaving behind something so intrinsically tied to him, had been slowly breaking your heart. You hadn't wanted him to stay simply out of obligation - you know you wouldn't be able to cope with the eventual resentment that such an action would breed.
But to know for certain now that he'd only been anxious?
That he wanted this with you, and was excited?
You're so happy that you immediately burst into tears, squeaking and sniffling and snotting uncontrollably while Viktor bites back a laugh and herds you into his embrace. Stroking your back and murmuring the sweetest things to you while you try to catch your breath, leaving gentle kisses all over your face.
Telling you all about what kind of person he hoped your little one would be.
Your smile, most certainly, he said, resolute. You have the most beautiful smile. You light up the room wherever you go. Maybe your sense of humour, too. And certainly your compassion.
Your tears slowly began to lessen, as you let yourself be lulled by the comfort of his arms around you.
Your hair, though, you insist, smushing your face into his shirt. You look so pretty in the mornings, all fluffed up and in disarray. It's the cutest shit I've ever seen.
That garners a laugh from him.
I want them to have your eyes, as well, you admit, albeit somewhat shyly. I've never seen a colour like yours, so intense and complex. Way back when we first met, and you looked at me for the very first time? I almost lost the ability to breathe. It was...it was like I knew, right then. That you were the person I wanted to spend my life with.
He squeezes you a little bit tighter, stooping down to tenderly slot your lips together. Slow, lazy, intimate. Sharing breath and warmth and love and-
He takes you again.
Right there, in the dim quiet of his office, not seeming to care if anyone passing by in the hallway might hear you. Spoiling you absolutely rotten, speaking praises against your skin as he brings you over the edge again and again and again.
Pupils blown wide as he sinks his fingers into you, crooking them perfectly as to reach the spots he knows will drive you mad. The papers strewn around the room don't matter - they don't even cross his mind, as you wriggle and squirm and quiver and cry out for him.
How could they, when all he can focus on is the way you look when your body tenses up, another wave of ecstasy coursing through your veins, culminating in your lovely little noises, and the addicting feeling of your pleasure dripping down his fingers and over his palm, soaking him thoroughly.
He would be happy to have you like this, as frequently as you would let him.
He knows how sensitive you must be by now, not only from his ministrations, but also from the way your body is changing. He's done his fair amount of reading since discovering your pregnancy - he's aware of all the ways you might be feeling.
The hunger, the exhaustion, the aches and pains.
The all-encompassing, single-minded lust you might go through.
He's ready to please you, however you might want - his fingers, his mouth. And whenever you might want. You could wake him up in the middle of the night, for all he cares. You could nudge him from the sleep that he so desperately needs, and he'd ask not a single question besides What do you need, darling? How would you like me?
What he doesn't expect is his own desire.
You're beautiful. You always have been beautiful. Even as things change, he was absolutely certain that you would never stop being beautiful.
It's you, so of course he's going to want you.
But seeing you now, whining and looking at him like he's hung the moon in the sky, specifically for you? Your tummy already growing round with the life that you've made together, visible proof of your love? Desperate whimpers falling past your lips, begging him for more, for him to fill you up again and again and again?
He can't resist you.
Even when he starts to ache, and his arms start shaking, and his throat is raw and dry from breathing hard and calling out for you.
He can't resist you.
You're insatiable.
So is he.
He's a little more careful as the months progress. Manhandling you less, digging his fingers into the soft fat of your hips a little gentler. He's cognizant of how you're most comfortable, watching in awe as you tremble on top of him, grinding down on him and taking his entire length into you like you were made specifically for him.
Nearly every day, you beg for him.
He loves you.
And when the time eventually comes for you to waddle carefully into the labour centre, meeting your midwife along the way, Viktor tries to keep his worrying quiet. Tries to stay by your side as a supportive pillar, regardless of how well or not he might actually be able to hold you up.
Holding your hand, kissing your knuckles. Trading his fingers for a stress ball when you squeeze a little too hard (and then another stress ball, stronger this time, when the first one explodes in your fist after a couple minutes. It shocks both of you, but to his surprise, you start laughing).
He tenderly dabs the sweat off your forehead as the hours go by, keeping your hairs from pasting themselves to your face and neck. Staying nearby as a source of comfort, but not so close that you feel smothered by him - allowing you the space you need to wiggle around as you see fit.
Telling you stories to distract you, listening to your complaints and observations as his words become unable to mask the pain of your contractions. Doing his absolute best to bite back a fond grin as you breathlessly curse him for doing this to you.
I didn't mean it, you tell him, as soon as the words leave your mouth, your eyes wide and tearful with sorrow.
I know, he promises, leaning forward to press his lips to your dewy skin.
You sigh happily.
It's not for another couple hours that your baby finally decides to enter the world.
You're beyond exhausted, and Viktor is starting to get fidgety with his worry. Is it supposed to be taking this long? he wonders internally, keeping his questions to himself so as not to stress you out even more.
The midwives, to their credit, are incredibly skilled. Staying by your side throughout the whole process, carefully monitoring everything they need to in order to make sure you're healthy. That the baby is healthy. He knows that they would say something, if anything was truly wrong.
And when the little one finally arrives, she does so kicking and screaming, making an absolute ruckus in the quiet room. The door is shut tight, keeping the sounds of the busy establishment at bay, and the curtain is drawn for your privacy so no one can see in when the staff come and go.
But when your girl begins shouting her absolute displeasure into the air, Viktor swears he can hear some quiet clapping and cheering from the hallway. He doesn't know if it's for your success, or for something and someone else entirely - but for a moment, he likes to believe that there are some strangers out there who are happy for him.
They don't know his story, and they don't know yours - but they've heard a great cry from somewhere hidden and full of struggle. An all-encompassing wail that confirms the presence of life, shouting to the world I am here, I am alive, and I have absolutely no idea what's going on!
He doesn't know when the tears start trailing down his cheeks.
Perhaps it's when he first lays eyes on your girl, pink and cranky and a little bit squished. Putting up a fuss on your base chest, scrunching her little face up as you speak softly and tenderly to her.
Perhaps it's when one of the midwives hands him a very soft towel, instructing him on how to carefully pat away the blood and fluid still clinging to your child. His eyes growing wide when he oh so gently cleans her off to reveal more of her tiny features.
She's still new, and needs time to decompress (so to speak), but he stares at her with such rapture. Taking in every inch of her, burning her face into his mind so that he might never forget her. Ever.
She's still new, and yet he can already tell that she has your nose. And your lips. Your smile, he realizes, with a palpable joy spreading through his chest.
His tears eventually dry, if only so he's able to better see you and the newest member of your family. Laying kiss after kiss to whatever part of your skin he can reach. Stroking the tips of his fingers over your girl's hair - her tiny arms and shoulders, her chubby cheeks, the bridge of her nose and over her brows.
But some two hours later, when you're finally allowed to rest in your comfortable hospital bed: when your baby is now dry and fed and swaddled up happily in Viktor's arms?
The tears begin again.
Privately, in the dim of the room, while you snooze a couple feet away from him, he weeps. Silently, and without so much as a sniffle. He cannot stop the wetness that rolls down his face, even if he wanted to.
Your girl is finally relaxed, after her grand, dramatic entrance. On the edge of sleep, warm and with a full tummy, making funny little expression while she dozes.
Much to Viktor's delight, she has a head of fuzzy brown hair - dishevelled and sticking in every direction, not matter how the midwives had tried to tame it. It'll settle down in a few days, they'd promised. But he didn't care.
The wild mop on top of her head rivalled the chaos of his own. The same shade of chestnut, though perhaps less coarse in texture. Maybe it will grow to the same thickness eventually, he thinks, a fond smile pulling at the corners of his mouth as he imagines how much he's going to have to help her with it as she grows.
Brushing the inevitable tangles out with a soft brush. Pulling the strands back into braids so she can run around and play easier - or maybe little buns on the top of her head, he realizes, the image conjuring up in his mind.
All at once, pictures pop through his head, so vivid and bright that he can almost see them appearing in front of him.
Watching your daughter grow. Sleepless nights of taking care of her, catering to her every whim. Making sure she's fed, and comfortable - entertaining her with silly little toys that make silly little noises, bright colours painted across them. Reading her books with bright, enticing visuals for her to stare at, despite the fact that she doesn't know what words are.
Making trinkets for her as she gets a little older. Things that help her learn, but that also keep her excited and enticed, encouraging her exploration of the world around her. Teaching her to walk, by helping her strengthen her little legs. Sitting on a footstool, a wide smile on his face, as you hold her by her arms and support her as she figures out how to use her legs while upright. Leading her right over into his waiting arms.
Until she's able to balance on her own, after a number of weeks of practising together. Pushing herself up into a wobbly stance, doing her absolute best to try and balance. Maybe she stumbles a couple of times, but she's persistent -stubborn, like he is- and continuously rises back up until she's able to make it over to him on her own. Giggling and wiggling when he scoops her up and praises her and showers he in affection.
Teaching her about anything and everything, the bigger she gets. Answering every question she has, no matter how confusing or senseless - encouraging with his own suggestions, and prompting her to discover some answers for herself. Putting together little experiments for her, so they can learn together and so he can watch her eyes widen with the joy of new information.
Fixing her toys for her whenever they break, as she brings them to him with misty eyes and a wobbly bottom lip. Papa, it fell apart, she says sadly. To which he pulls her onto his lap, regardless of what work he was doing, and helps her repair the damage. Letting her watch and observe when she's still too small to hold a screwdriver, and carefully explaining things to her when her motor skills start to develop more.
And then helping her figure out in what way her toy broke, when she's a little bigger. Asking specific questions, so she can work to connect all the dots herself. Helping her gather the materials that she needs in order to fix things herself, and praising her to the high heavens when she presents the finished product to him.
The little thing is slightly lopsided, but he fully believes that it adds to its charm - tells her as such, when she sighs about it not being the same as before.
It's a little uneven, just like me, he says, with a laugh.
And, much to his complete shock, she wraps her little arms around him, and gives him her strongest possible squeeze.
It adds to your charm, she parrots back to him with complete honesty. I like you, Papa.
And once again, for the umpteenth time throughout his daughter's life, his eyes well with tears and he presses a kiss to the top of her head.
She could go anywhere she wanted, once she grew up. Learn anything, do anything, be anything. Perhaps she'd enjoy the sciences, like he does - machinery, and building, and designing, and inventing. Maybe she'd get into art, and spend her days painting or sketching, or writing, or making music - inspiring other people with the things she makes.
It doesn't matter, though. Because no matter what she ends up enjoying, or where she goes in her life, Viktor will support her with his entirety. Even when she grows all the way up, and inevitably leaves home to begin her own life, whatever that may be.
He knows he's going to cry then, too. So many years together, and yet it will still never be enough.
But for now, he sighs, staring adoringly down at the tiny infant in his arms. For now, they have time. He vows silently to never waste a single moment with her, and never pass up the opportunity to spend time with her. No matter how busy or frustrated or tired he gets, he won't let her grow up feeling unwanted or unloved or unimportant.
He'll give her a better life than he grew up with, and that is both a promise and a threat.
After all, he would do anything, for her.
His greatest creation.
#viktor x reader#viktor arcane x reader#arcane x reader#viktor headcanons#viktor blurb#viktor reader insert#arcane reader insert#i am slowly rising from the dead whoops
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What Do You Know About Love? [Viktor x Reader]
This was just a quick fic cause I was having some feelings recently that I needed to get out. It’s about 650 words and I wrote it kinda fast. There’s no use of Y/N at all either by the way.
Synopsis:
Viktor says that he loves you but you aren’t sure what love feels like.
Warnings: Nothing explicit. I don’t want to say it’s angst but the reader does question themselves about love
Viktor cupped your cheeks gently in his hands and he brought your face close to his own. “I love you.” he whispered before placing his lips upon your own. It was a long drawn out kiss, passionate without going over the edge. He pulled away slowly but when he opened his eyes the last thing that Viktor expected to see were tears streaming down your face. He hesitantly placed a single hand to your cheek and lightly wiped away a tear as he spoke. “What’s wrong?”
“I-I want to…” Your voice caught in your throat, unable to complete your sentence.
Viktor cocked his head to the side and raised an eyebrow. He spoke with a voice like honey, one that could soothe anything that was wrong. “You want to? What is it that you want my love?”
“I want to say it back. But I-“ You backed away from his touch and wrapped your arms around yourself. “I don’t think I know what love is.” You sniffled and felt your throat grow tight. You hated crying in front of anybody, but something about crying in front of Viktor felt even worse. You didn’t want him to pity you, not for something as mundane as this. And yet you continued to cry, your sobs growing louder and more intense with every sentence spoken. “I’ve never… been with anybody before, so how can I possibly know when I’m actually feeling love. I don’t even think I mean it when I say it to my parents. I just- I don’t want to say it and not mean it. How can I tell if I mean it?!”
Viktor took you by the shoulders and pulled you into a tight hug. “Shhh. It’s ok. You don’t have to say it back.”
“It’s not fair to you.” You sobbed into his chest and he began to lightly stroke your hair.
“Then let me ask you, how often do you think of me?”
You thought for a moment before answering in a pitiful and hoarse voice “…Everyday”
Viktor hummed in response, a small smile working it’s way onto his lips. “And when you see me, does your heart flutter? Does the sight of me put a smile on your face?”
A smile cracked onto your own lips at his questions. “Yes.” Came your answer, muffled from your face in his shirt.
“Would you be devastated if I were to die?”
You pulled away from him at his suddenly dark question. Your face was riddled with despair. So much so that Viktor felt terrible for even asking such a thing. “Viktor, please don’t make me think of things like that.”
“I’m sorry dear.” he sighed and ran his hands down your arms until they were grasping your own. “I do have one more question though. When I tell you I love you does it warm your heart?”
You looked at him with tear-filled eyes and gave a warm smile. “It does.” you answered.
“All of those thoughts and feelings… that is love.”
“It is?”
He smiled warmly at you. “It is. But you don’t have to say it. I’ve known that you loved me for quite some time.”
“You have?”
Viktor leaned in to touch his forehead to yours. “Mhmm. I’ve known from the way to bring me food when you know I haven’t eaten. And from the small gifts you give me, just because you saw them and thought of me. From the long nights you spend by my side just so I am not alone.” With each new example he gives your smile grows wider and wider. “You don’t need to say you love me because you show it instead.” He leaned his head back up and looked into your eyes, still puffy from crying but now scrunched in the corners from your wide grin. “And so you don’t forgot, I will tell you once more. I love you”
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Jayce finding out about your relationship with Viktor.
Inspiration: Part of my pet name headcanon (HERE) for Viktor! I just had to. The thought of this cute little interaction from the pet name “my most esteemed colleague” was just too good.
Character: Arcane!Viktor
Genre: Headcanon
Category: FLUFF (Ft. Jayce being a bit of a silly goose. 😂.)
Gender: Gender Neutral Reader!
TW: Small mention of alcohol. Swearing (because I swear lmao.)
Important context: Based on what I wrote in the pet name headcanon, I’m writing this with the idea of the reader being a professor at the academy (any subject). Also timeline-wise: this is before the end of the timeskip. Obviously HexTech exists, but Jayce isn’t a councilman yet or anything.
You and Viktor have only been dating maybe a couple months at this point. Your relationship is extremely new.
Not many people in your lives know. Not because you both aren’t happy or excited about this new relationship. It’s quite the opposite, in fact.
You two have never been so happy, but both of you are just fairly private people. Neither of you feel the need to be extremely obvious about your relationship in public. You’re both happy to save affection for those quiet moments alone together.
Someone who surprisingly does know? Heimerdinger. He knows because he’s the one who introduced you to Viktor at the academy holiday party last year. It was only maybe a couple months after you joined the faculty.
He immediately noticed you and Viktor both trying to discreetly check each other out during academy meetings.
“Discreetly” lmao you two were halfway to making heart eyes at each other already, let’s be so fucking for real. But he thought about it and realized you two would actually be really good for each other.
“Viktor, my boy, I’d like to introduce you to one of our newer colleagues here at the academy, Professor (Y/L/N). Professor (Y/L/N) teaches [enter subject] and is already responsible for some incredible projects. Professor, I’m pleased to introduce my former assistant, Viktor. He’s now working in our labs with Mr. Jayce Talis on HexTech.”
You couldn’t help but smile shyly at the tall young man who seems only a bit older than you are. He’s really quite handsome. And his EYES. You were pretty sure you could get lost in those amber eyes forever.
You realized you’d been quietly watching for a moment instead of responding, causing you to blush and stammer out a response.
“V-Very lovely to meet you, Viktor. I’ve asked Professor Heimerdinger to refer to me as (Y/N). Since he still won’t, I hope you will? I find Professor (Y/L/N) too formal for me, at least among colleagues.”
Viktor gave you a smile that made your heart flip. “(Y/N) does seem a lot more fitting, I agree. Happy to call you whatever you’d prefer (SMOOTH VIKTOR 😉). Now, while we were talking, I see they’ve set out the champagne. Would you like me to bring you a glass?”
“I’d love that, thank you! Once you return, I’d love to hear more about the intricacies of HexTech. Your work with Mr. Talis is fascinating and I’d love to understand it better, especially if I can hear from an expert.”
“Happy to talk about it, as long as I can hear more about [subject you teach] and your projects. I admit it’s not a topic I’m extremely familiar with.”
You smiled. “I’d love to tell you about my work, though I can’t promise it’ll be as attention holding as yours.”
Heimerdinger stepped in here, “You sell yourself short, Professor. I’ve thoroughly enjoyed our conversations about your projects. Now you two go enjoy yourselves. I’m going to go make sure people aren’t causing any trouble.”
The yordle had been alive long enough to know when two people have excellent chemistry. He noticed the intense sparks between both of you IMMEDIATELY and he figured it wouldn’t be long before the two of you were together. (Surprise surprise he was correct.)
You’d never had so much fun at a work function before that night.
You and Viktor ended up talking together the rest of the party and he walked you home. Turns out the two of you live fairly close to each other.
You and him quickly became friends, and it only took a couple months for him to ask you on a coffee date, which you happily agreed to.
And once again you and him ended up talking together for hours. It was the most enjoyable date you’d ever had. You’d never felt so naturally comfortable with someone before.
And Viktor wasn’t even upset about being away from work for so long (though he did have to create some random excuse to appease Jayce’s curiosity).
Soon one date turned into more, and before too long, the two of you were officially in a relationship.
This brings us back to the present.
Viktor always gets to his lab so much earlier than you arrive at the academy.
To the point you sometimes wonder if he’s slept there. (The answer is sometimes yes.)
But anyway, one Wednesday night when Viktor decides he isn’t going to sleep at the lab, he comes over to your apartment for dinner. And while you two are chatting, he can’t help but complain a bit about the coffee machine in the lab not working.
And while of course you are being a supportive partner and listening to him, it is kind of hilarious, but also concerning, to realize how much this man depends on caffeine to get through his day.
Like you knew he drank coffee. You were not aware how much coffee he consumed since he mostly consumed it in the lab.
As the two of you sit together on the couch, chatting while Viktor goes over notes and you grade assignments, you can’t help but muse out loud a little bit after another round of tired grumbling from him.
“Tomorrow is my light class day. I could bring you coffee and breakfast? Since I know you’re already at the academy before the local cafes open.”
He perks up at the thought.
“I don’t need the breakfast, just the coffee, my dear.”
That earns him a mock stern stare from you.
“Ah ah ah, I’m going to make sure you actually eat breakfast, damnit. Even better, I’ll eat my breakfast with you. I rarely get to see you in the mornings, so it will be nice.”
He can’t help but smile. It would be nice to see you in the morning, especially when he’s tired. You always brighten his day whenever he sees you.
You’ve been visiting him and Jayce in their lab occasionally since you and Viktor became friends, but due to both of your recent schedules, it’s been a while, like since before the two of you made things official.
“That sounds nice, yes. When should I expect you?” His voice is happy as he laces his fingers with your hand that isn’t holding a pen.
You can’t help but blush happily at the little gesture. Viktor becoming more and more affectionate with you in private has been such a lovely surprise.
“I usually get to the academy around 9 on Thursdays. Does 9:15 work for you?”
He nods. “You know my order, yes?”
“Of course, Vitya. But, I also want to go ahead and at least grab coffee and pastries for Jayce and Sky. Do you know their coffee orders?”
After noting down his lab mates’ orders, you happily go back to grading papers, now enjoying companionable silence with Viktor.
Once he decides to get home for the evening, you send him off with a gentle peck and a “I’ll see you tomorrow with breakfast, love.”
He’s blushing so hard on the way home omg. You made him so happy calling him love.
And so the next day, you walk into work with one of those drink carriers, a big bag with pastries, and a smaller bag with your and Viktor’s omelets.
After dropping off the non-essentials in your office, you make your way over to the lab section of the academy.
You knock on their lab’s main door before opening it, just to give them a little heads up someone is coming in.
As you walk in, you’re greeted with a happy, but tired, “(Y/N)!” from Jayce. You and him have become friends too since you became close with Viktor.
“Good morning, Jayce! I’ve brought the lab some treats since I heard the coffee machine is currently out of commission.”
“Did Viktor tell you? Oh my god, you’re my fucking hero!”
Speaking of Viktor, he’s nose deep in textbooks at his desk, but the second Jayce says your name, he looks up and smiles at you, getting up and making his way over to you.”
“Ah! There’s my most esteemed colleague! Come to save the day.”
You can’t help but giggle at the silly little name.
But out of the corner of your eye you see Jayce looking a confused and maybe even just a little bit hurt that Viktor reffered to you, someone he’s only known like six months, as his most esteemed colleague and not him, the man he literally founded HexTech with.
Not that Jayce doesn’t respect you. He’s thinks you’re incredibly impressive, but after all they’ve been through, damn Viktor that hurts a little.
Realizing that you have to be the one to smooth over Jayce’s misunderstanding somehow, you meet Viktor in the middle of the room, smiling as he takes the coffees.
As soon as he takes the coffees and the smaller bag with just breakfast for you two, you lean up and gently peck his cheek and offer him a “Good morning, my most esteemed colleague. I hope you haven’t been caffeine deprived for too long, Viktor.”
“Nothing that can’t be fixed by your generous gift and presence, my dear.”
Now out of the corner of your eye you see Jayce’s eyebrows immediately go up in surprise, and he definitely doesn’t look upset anymore. In fact, he looks super excited for both of you, sporting the largest grin.
He even calls out a, “Ah Viktor, they really are your most esteemed colleague, I see.”
You smile at Jayce as you go over to give him the pastry box while Viktor gets a little pink on his cheeks.
“Those are for everyone, Jayce, so I better hear that Sky got some too. Anyway, I suppose I am. He is mine as well! Careful of teasing though. I’ve given Viktor all the coffees to pass out, so he might decide to keep yours for himself.”
Viktor smirks at you as Jayce lets out a tired whine.
“Ah, I like the way you think, my love!”
Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed! Ahhh this was so fun to write. As soon as I put “my most esteemed colleague” as a “slightly silly but still plausible and cute” answer on the list of Viktor’s pet names for his partner, this idea immediately came to mind and I just had to write it. Having been in university, and then grad school, I’ve been colleagues with some pretty cool people. I also loved including the little first meeting and matchmaker Heimerdinger for this Professor!Reader AU! Shoutout again to my friend from college who is my beta reader for Arcane things because she also loves Viktor basically as much as I do (lmao I love my friends)!
#arcane#arcane viktor#viktor x reader#viktor#viktor headcanons#Viktor fluff#viktor arcane#arcane headcanon#reader insert#arcane fluff#jayce arcane#silly goose Jayce
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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
---
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.
---
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!
#fanfic february#fanfic february 2024#arcane#arcane 2021#arcane netflix#arcane viktor#viktor#viktor x reader#viktor x you#fem!reader#reader#reader insert#reader insert fanfiction#reader insert fanfic#reader insert fic#spicy#lemon#not suitable for minors#minors dni
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Let's Get Physical (Part 7)
Viktor/F!Reader || 6.3k || Modern!AU + Gym!AU || SFW
Bitches hate you for your overzealous approach to supporting your friends and deeply anxious behavior. Viktor is not bitches.
A/N: Omg. We're here. We're back on our bullshit. Thank you to everyone who beta'd and/or provided me free therapy about this for that past um... seven months. Oops. Thank you to everyone who reached out over the (unintentional) hiatus with encouraging comments and asks. I hope you'll understand why I took so long to handle this with care and unpack some of my own issues. Very cathartic. Would recommend.
Part 1 → Part 2 → Part 3 → Part 4 → Part 5 → Part 5.2 (nsfw) → Part 6 → Part 7 (Ao3 Link)
Before you know it, two weeks and a day have passed. They make no palpable difference.
Except maybe in your quadriceps.
The same weights you’ve been using feel almost effortless, too easy. You don’t fatigue as quickly into heavy breathing and the urge to cheat yourself a rep or two—not lunging with the dumbbell gripped at one of its wide ends, not squatting while it’s clutched close to your chest. It’s suddenly not enough.
Nobody’s around to see it, but progress is progress. Turns out, you’ve finally graduated to heavier weights on this lonely leg day you’ve committed to.
That’s a bit of a misnomer, though. The day is mostly past you now. It’s evening—crisp and wispy, sky like striated fire outside the garage—and as the sun sets, you’re reminded of the late start you’re up against. All because you forgot something.
A good attitude is optional. A scrunchie you can live without. But your shoes? Leave them forgettably kicked off in two different directions on your bedroom floor and you’re fucked. It’s a small miracle you’re here, dragging around weight plates, setting up a barbell. There was a very real danger of tripping and falling into bed—totally by accident, never to get up again—when you drove home and stomped upstairs to grab them.
But whether or not he knows it, likely the latter, Viktor keeps you accountable when no one else can. It’s because the only running you truly love is the risk of seeing him, which still requires proper footwear. And for you to leave the house.
Though by the time you whipped into the driveway and thrust the gear shift into park, it’s empty. He’d left already; you didn’t get to see him off on his reluctant shuffle through the garage. But lucky you—he tends to come straight home after physical therapy. Call it friendly concern that you’re paying attention.
It’s probably an odd way to think about a friend. You need to work on that.
Your phone vibrates dully on the padded bench beside you. Nearly knocking your water over in the process, you grab it to find a text from Jayce—the usual culprit. You slide it open, accidentally brushing the top of the screen with shaky fingers. It catapults you to the beginning of your most recent messages before you can read the new one.
Mon, Oct 10
[Jayce Talis, 5:56am]: Did you leave the back door unlocked last night?
[Jayce Talis, 5:57am]: And the pool lights on?
[Jayce Talis, 5:57am]: Was Viktor in the pool?
[7:32am]: Holy shit. Good morning.
[7:33am]: No, no, and why do you think I know these things??
[Jayce Talis, 7:45am]: Sorry, it’s all good. He’s alive.
[7:46am]: ???????
[Jayce Talis, 7:49am]: You guys didn’t hang out after I left?
[7:57am]: Idk if you would consider it that.
[8:02am]: But has anyone invited him to cards on Saturday??
[Jayce Talis, 8:17am]: He already said no.
[Jayce Talis, 8:18am]: Although…
[Jayce Talis, 8:19am]: You could try telling him it’s strip poker. Haha :)
[8:20am]: Blocked. Reported. Banned. NOT DOING THAT.
[Jayce Talis, 8:21am]: No wait! I was kidding. He’s not a creep :(
Tue, Oct 11
[Jayce Talis, 3:38pm]: Wait did you actually block me?
[3:50pm]: Yes.
Sun, Oct 16
[Tayce Jalis, 8:00am]: Can I have my t-shirt back today?
[8:31am]: Oh the really old anime one? I left it with some stuff to be washed, ask Viktor.
[8:32am]: Maybe the dryer did you a favor and ate it.
[Tayce Jalis, 8:34am]: Hey! Naruto is timeless.
Today
Tayce Jalis unsent a message
Not fast enough to scroll back down, caught revisiting those unremarkable little messages, and now you’ll never know what Jayce’s butt managed to text you this time. Oh well. Keep your secrets.
You toss your phone down behind you with a leathery slap. Back to working on the whole stop pining after Viktor thing.
Right, and your legs.
The barbell bites into your hips as you roll it into your lap and adjust it, the bench presses into your shoulder blades. It’s heavier and harder to manage, but you do, driving down into your heels to get your ass off the ground, hefting yourself into a nice, solid bridge. From there it’s as easy as dipping your hips, which isn’t quite easy at all. No, it’s brutal.
It burns from your core down to your thighs; has you clenching your jaw, gritting your teeth with the strain. Even your biceps are active, lifting some of the steel-hard pressure off your hip bones.
You’re so zoned in—no thoughts, head empty except for the number six over and over until it’s seven—that you only hear the hiss of your breath in and out, the hammering rush of blood behind your ears. You don’t hear Viktor come home.
Not until he’s standing above you.
He had the heinous metal on metal sound in his old beige car fixed—that grinding, grating death knell in its engine. One of several potentially life threatening reasons the check engine light was always on—maybe still is. And though you much prefer him living, it’s harder to hear him coming over the steady music without paying attention.
Bad timing for Miss Carly Rae Jepsen on your Upbeat Workout Jams playlist, considering you do really, really, really like him. Him and how he stands at the end of the bench, staring down; how he fixes you with that sliver thin smile, a manila folder tucked under the arm of his long cardigan.
You seize with embarrassment, frozen on the upswing of your hips. “Hi,” whispers out on the end of an exhale, caught ragged in your throat.
You can’t do pelvic thrusts in front of him.
You just can’t.
It’s bad enough that you’re sweaty in every skin to skin crevice and certainly flushed, t-shirt sticky and legs trembling as they hold your awkward position, but then there’s him.
He wears that same look much better. On him, it’s healthy color across the cut lines of his cheeks; it’s still-damp curls at the nape of his neck and the jump of his lean throat when he swallows, dry when he must’ve forgotten a water bottle again. It’s suggestive. It’s hot.
And it’s the endorphins that make you feel that way, surely, more than any affinity for men in gray sweatpants that are far more revealing than they must realize.
You clear your throat, finding your own parched voice. “Watch your feet,” you warn, on the side of caution, dropping butt and barbell to the ground with a metallic thud. You let your head drop back against the bench pad, staring up at him with the dazed satisfaction of calling it quits. Only for the moment, of course, as you blindly feel around for your phone to turn the music down.
And good fucking god is what you see unholy. Viktor shifts his weight before you can look away, and the ache in your core redoubles—different, deeper than any lactic acid buildup. Did his pants shrink in the wash or is it really that m—?
Nope! Absolutely not!
You can tread no further with that thought because, really, there’s no such thing as having a platonic appreciation for your friend’s dick. Not when the friend is Viktor.
“You’re not finished yet?” he asks. Innocent. Oblivious to your mental struggle out of the gutter.
Typically you would be by now. Equipment racked, the citrus scent of disinfectant on your hands, picking at innocuous conversation while you walk inside together. How was your day? Did you hear they’re demolishing the old physics building? There’s a guest lecture next month that might interest you.
“About another thirty minutes,” you breathe, “and then I’ll be done. I’m running behind.”
“Ah, interesting. That looks to me more like sitting,” he says, which is terrible enough to earn an eye roll, and snarky enough that your lips wobble and break into an insurmountable smile.
“It’s called resting, thanks. This would go faster if you stopped distracting me,” you huff, muscles loose, lips looser.
The little spark of mirth in his eyes, so bright and awake, makes your stomach clench vice tight. “Mm. There’s no rush,” he shrugs, “but… Rio might enjoy a visit.”
Your smile is skeptical as he pulls the file folder from beneath his arm. “Oh really?” It widens as he starts to fan you from above—chilly in the garage, but you’re still sweating buckets. It’s futile, although he’s sweet to try and help.
He nods, gravely serious, “She told me herself.”
You crane your neck unconsciously to let it cool the sweat that lingers there, sighing as little wisps of loose hair billow feather light and tickle your feverish skin.
He isn’t holding it right, though. His grip is too loose on the edge.
At once, a flurry of white comes raining down on you. It’s instinct that your eyes clamp shut against the onslaught.
“No, no, no,” he hisses as if begging could stop gravity.
It doesn’t, of course.
His papers flutter and scrape across the floor. An unlucky one sticks to the sweat on your scrunched up cheek. He’s quick to dip forward and snatch it back first, the easiest to reach.
You blink off the surprise and snicker, “Oh, how the tables have turned. Who’s the clumsy one now?” Rolling the barbell away over your outstretched legs, there’s nothing in its path to be crumpled beneath the weight.
But Viktor doesn’t answer with a crooked smile or a quiet laugh, no dry wit to be found. His dark, heavy brows furrow and he insists, “No, just—just let me,” while he crouches to the ground, distributing his weight between his cane and the end of the bench.
“It’s okay,” you insist, reaching to gather what’s scattered between you, “I’ve got it. No big deal.”
“To you,” he mutters, snatching two away before you can turn them over. Makes him lose balance. He narrowly catches himself before he can veer face first into your spandex lap,, blunt, bony fingers digging into your thigh at the hem of those skin tight biker shorts. It crushes the papers all the same.
“Top secret nuclear codes?” you tease, drowning his muttered apologies. It sounds stupid and obvious that you’re trying to distract from the fumbling tension when his hand stays put for moments too long. Yours, too, on his shoulder to brace him.
Just until he’s able to sit himself solidly on the ground beside you.
He purses his lips, “My work is with reactor cores, not weapons.”
It’s only been a week since you got an impromptu lecture about nuclear fusion in the kitchen. It’s not like you’d forget so quickly. “I know—”
Impatient, Viktor reaches over your lap, too close for comfort. Whatever you were about to say is struck from your train of thought.
His cardigan drags soft and pilled with wear across your beat up knees. Beneath it, his sweat smells sharp and strangely appealing. It’s fascinating, that draw to something so base and human. It’s unsettling, the way your heart responds like it beats between your legs.
You follow his hand, unabashedly curious, and watch him pick up another overturned paper. Below it, the next sheet is stuck face up to the floor with what you cringe to assume is a drop of your sweat, bleeding the ink of a diagram. Multiple diagrams, actually.
Of stretches.
The familiarity sparks excitement.
By the time he peels up the corner of the page with his fingernail, you’re sure of what you’re looking at. It’s common ground, of a sort; the excuse to end all excuses.
“These are from the physical therapist?”
He sighs, sitting back in an awkward fold of spindly legs. Looks wearier, now, with his shoulders collapsed like the exhaustion of going has finally caught up. “Yes,” he admits, because you’re smart and he’s smart, and any other answer would be an obvious lie.
You’re doing it again—digging your fingers into a soft spot that feels as ripe as it does intrusive. We do not talk about it much, he once said, but it’s hard to stop once you’ve started. You just have to know: “Do you do them?”
His eyes cut down to the papers in his hands. “When time permits.”
“How often does it permit?”
“Occasionally,” says Viktor, which might mean somewhere between rarely and never.
Early mornings, late nights; classes to teach, lab hours to log, projects, papers, and a dissertation that looks done to you, but he laughs bitterly when you suggest it. Still has to find time to eat and shower and sleep, but his eyes are always restless purple and there are wrappers from meal replacement bars scattered around the house, too high calorie for Jayce to be the culprit.
You wonder what will happen when it all catches up with him. Worse, you worry.
Beseechingly, you reach out. Your grip is gentle as you take hold of the printouts at their edge. “Can I see?” you ask, not grabbing or pulling or taking, just there and ready.
His lips form a tight, considering line. “If that is the last of your questions,” he slowly replies. Prickly, but relenting, he lets go before you can ever agree.
So you don’t.
His eyes are on you as you flip through the stack—you can feel it as a strange, shy tension like bated breath, watching and waiting.
Page by page, it’s nothing you haven’t seen before. Some you’ve even done yourself, but with simple modifications. Hell, bridges are just hip thrusts performed flat on the floor, without the weight. Nothing he’d need help with, which is ideal when you’re not qualified to do anything but make space for him; to emphasize that he’s welcome and wanted, maybe offer up a sweaty-palmed high five if you’re feeling spunky.
You peel your legs off the floor and resituate, tucking them as your turn to face him, direct in every sense. “You could come do these with us on Sunday mornings after we run, before you get started on work. It would make Jayce happy, and Vi has a really funny way of being encouraging—”
He pulls a face—a nose scrunched up, barely concealed, abso-fucking-loutely not sort of scowl.
“Or…” you’re quick to try, “Just with me, when I’m here. It’ll take, what—fifteen? Twenty minutes?”
“It’s a poor use of time,” he says. It’s as avoidant as it is clumsy, with a dismissive edge still dull enough to bruise.
And that’s because: “You stop and talk to me for longer than that sometimes,” you remind him flatly.
He sighs sharply, toying absently with the cane laid across his lap. “That is different.” He says it like it’s obvious; like it’s frustrating that you don’t know how obvious it is.
“Well, what if we could do both at the same time?” you propose. After all, he’s got such a hard-on for efficiency, if that’s what’s stopping him. “I know you’re a good multitasker…”
His jaw works, trapping his thoughts behind imperfect teeth.
“And we probably keep this floor cleaner than the carpet…” you prod, because the silence of a man who can and has talked your ear off is disquieting; because you don’t always know when to stop; because this feels like a negotiation.
“My bedroom suits my purposes just fine,” he says, eventually.
But you never said which carpet. The thought of him sequestered in there, even for this, is fucking depressing. Arguably disgusting when you’ve walked across that rug and felt the grit of dirt, crumbs, and debris that the pattern hides through your socks. And worse: It’s a choice, so why is he making it?
Abruptly, the rubber tipped end of his cane meets like against the rubber tiled floor. He pulls himself up on it with difficulty you can’t ignore, but shakes his head when you move to help. The only thing you do is hand him up the battered stack of papers, tucked back into the folder from which they came, when he stands up fully. You won’t hold them hostage, even if part of you wants to. It wouldn’t keep him from leaving, his back to you such a familiar sight.
You just want to understand, though, if nothing else. To crack him like a cipher.
Softer, you try: “I wouldn’t judge you.” It’s the last, desperate little thing you can think of. They’re like magic words to you.
But the problem is: They don’t work on everyone.
To his credit, his tone isn’t harsh. It’s indifferent, like stating a sterile fact. “This has nothing to do with you,” he says. “I haven’t skipped an appointment recently, and that should be enough.”
Indigence might suit you in those moments you grow a seedling backbone, but it doesn’t suit this. You can’t help it though. His frustration has bled into you, caught like kindling. “Is it?”
“You and I do not share the same sense of priorities,” he replies, but it’s not an answer. Not really.
The urge to turn him upside down and shake him until something definitive comes out is overwhelming—so straightforward until he just… isn’t. “If you’re not going to say yes or no, can’t you just lie and say you’ll think about it?”
He looks you over inscrutably, sitting there in his shadow. “Why would you assume it’s a lie?”
“Oh, I don’t know…” you huff. But you do. Experience and a certain friend who actually bothers to text you back have given you the answer. “Jayce says you’re stubborn and I’m starting to think he’s right.”
Viktor nods conclusively, but doesn’t care to share what’s going through his head. As evasive as ever when he cares to be, just murmurs,“You should finish this.”
And then, for a reason that is simply beyond you, says: “I will see you later.”
But for once, you’re not sure if you want to.
—
You rap your knuckles against his open door.
Seriously—who were you kidding, thinking for even a second that you wouldn’t be here, doing this?
Yes, it’s well after eight now and you’re pitifully hungry, but it wouldn’t feel right to leave without saying anything. In writing a note or sending a text, you’d simply be spelling out, ‘I’m a coward!’ in far more words. It’s best, you decide, to be polite and mature and just say goodnight despite the awkward taste in your mouth that is very reminiscent of your own foot.
And you get to say it to his back, which should be easy.
But then there’s Rio on his desk like a pissed off paperweight, swimming the foggy side of her holding tank—sorry, prison—without any hope of escape. They’re the angriest, most pathetic wiggles you’ve ever seen. Habitual, given how tongue-smudged and abraded the plastic has become.
“You see?” he says, gesturing to the sound of her scrabbling in his bright rubber kitchen gloves. “It’s just as I said.”
“I think it’s more about you ignoring her.” Rio pauses, slipping down the side. Her little face conveys it perfectly: “Father is cruel? Father is… unyielding? Father hates Rio?”
“No, no… Although, eh, yes, I suppose she does sound like that…” he muses, nodding. “I think she must wonder those things about you, actually.”
Your shoulder hits the door frame, shrugging against it where you lean. “I probably don’t matter much to her.”
There’s a heavy pause, enough for him to breathe in and hold it. Breathe out, softly: “You do.”
And suddenly, you can’t find it in you to leave. Did you ever truly have the will?
The truth is there on your feet—those perpetually mismatched socks. You’d hoped for this, secretly, else you wouldn’t have left your shoes off at the door.
It’s warm when you walk in. A space heater that’s been running too long glows electric orange on the floor near his desk. Makes the smell of churned earth and vinegar cleaner that much stronger. And while the clutter is clearly endemic, it seems the fuzzy, stagnant mugs are not. They’re all gone from his desk and the bedside table, replaced by sticky notes, pill bottles, and an avalanche of papers.
You come up and give Rio’s tiny, clawed foot a high-five through the plastic. “Has she been doing this all night?” you ask, looking over.
Knee on the desk chair for leverage, he’s elbows deep in her tank, rooting those waxen, fake plants back into the substrate with unnatural posture. It’s that stiffness you’ve always noticed—ramrod straight from the mid-spine up. It’s easier to see in profile, in a thin shirt that clings to his back, that there’s nothing visibly forcing it.
“On and off. She tires quickly now,” he says, arranging a broad-leafed plant near her favorite rocky shelter—scrubbed clean, still damp. “When she was younger, it would go on much longer while I did this.”
“How old is she exactly?”
His sigh is almost lost beneath the hum of the space heater. He answers, “Fifteen,” in the soft, subdued way of someone who hates to be reminded.
There’s many things you’re too afraid to ask him. Such hits as: Why did you dig yourself a hole this deep, does Jayce text everyone about you, and would I even stand a chance if things were different? But right now, most of all, it’s how long do geckos live?
You don’t think you’re going to like the answer.
Viktor clears his throat. “She’s very, eh… spritely for her age,” he adds, fondly this time.
You hum a soft sound in agreement, too shaky through the legs to squat down to eye level with her. When you bend your knees to try, you realize you’ll probably never get up again.
He glances over as you straighten up. “You can sit,” he offers without really saying where. It’s obvious, though. The only option—his rumpled bed, never made, with all its mismatched pillows. One has definitely been stolen from the couch, three are yellowed and missing pillowcases which is… ew.
But you’re not going to refuse. You’d like to hold Rio, after all.
You swallow hesitation and tuck yourself onto the end of his mattress, balancing on the firm edge. At least the intrusive thoughts are fleeting. Only briefly do you wonder what he thinks about at night. What he does. What he wants for.
Not you. That’s for sure.
Your elbows lock out where you grip the ridged edge of the bed. The weight of things gone unsaid, of things left unresolved bears down; it prickles warm at the back of your neck and you can’t stand the waiting silence.
“So…” you drawl, letting your voice fill the void.
“Hm?”
“Are you going to hand her to me now, or…?”
“Ah, no, I’m finished,” he says over his shoulder. “She needs to go back in the tank.”
“Then why am I sitting here?”
“Because I have something to ask you.”
Straightforward. Right. You forgot just how terrifying that can be.
“That sounds just as bad as saying we need to talk,” you mutter, heart twisting into a suffocating, arterial knot.
“We do, though,” he says, too literal, too preoccupied with placing Rio back in her clean terrarium to notice your soul leave your body—preemptively abandoning ship.
But he’s merciful, at least. He doesn’t keep you in suspense.
“I just want to understand at what point you developed such a vested interest in, eh… fixing me, I suppose,” he asks, like wondering what the weather will be tomorrow or what the dining hall might serve for lunch. Conversationally. “Did Jayce put you up to this?”
Your eyes narrow in thought. “No…?” you reply. It comes out too shifty as you toy with the serged edge of his blanket. Jayce put you up to something alright, though that hardly matters anymore. But, in a way, does this count? Would Viktor think that this counts?
“A sure answer, please.”
Fuck.
“It’s just that I would lump that in as part of being friends with you—except I’d call it, y’know, caring?” You draw your leg up onto the bed, closer, tucking your foot beneath your thigh. “That’s all I’m trying to do.”
Viktor flips the grate down with a finality that lights your nerves like a beacon to flee. “So he asked you to do what, exactly?”
“Nothing,” you squirm.
He pivots, solidly on two feet. Doesn’t sit down in the desk chair quite yet. “It wouldn’t be the first time for this behavior, and, with you, I’m sure it was not the last. Do you know that he once provided Caitlyn with a written list of topics not to bring up to me?”
You shrug, “He’s a good friend...”
Now you’re staring down the barrel of being just the opposite—of throwing Jayce under the bus.
“What did he ask?” Viktor presses.
And you break. Made brittle by your desire to put him first, of course you do.
“All he wanted was for me to give you a chance, which was pretty reasonable after you called me annoying—” that word comes out with a bite to it you didn’t intend; sensitive, sore, “—but I never told him about that. He’s just… worried about you in his own way, I guess.”
Viktor quietly raises an eyebrow, and that’s all it takes to snap you into fours next. It practically falls out of your mouth: “He keeps texting me to make sure you’re still alive. Sometimes I think he’s joking, but then one time he told me he had a nightmare that you drowned in the pool, so part of me actually thinks he’s being serious.”
“He is.”
“Wait, really—?”
“Is that why you come so often now?”
Wednesday. Friday. Sunday. Monday too, sometimes, if the day before hasn’t left you sufficiently sore enough. The pain means progress. It must.
“Well, no,” you blink, “that’s mainly because I have a lot to work on.”
“Do you?”
You gesture to yourself. All of you. The way your stomach folds and rolls and fucking exists unappealingly beneath your sweatshirt when you slouch—it could be better. The way your thighs pancake out, smushed against the bed—not getting better, but discipline and toning might shape them into something near desirable. “Yeah, obviously.”
He treads lightly. “I… would not say it’s obvious.” But his eyes are cast down as he carefully removes his rubber gloves and discards them in a bucket of cleaning supplies. He’s not rude enough to agree, but you worry, in all those moments you can feel him looking at you, that he’s thinking it. After all, he’s willowy, sharp and elegant in a way you’ll never be. Soft and fleshy. Never quite right.
“And that’s because you’re, what, zero percent body fat?” you sigh, gesturing to him incredulously. “I’m not implying that’s healthy or ideal—honestly, I’d share some if I could—but…” Your hands curl to your chest, clasped tightly in one another when there is no one else to hold them through the indignity of admitting, “I’m the one that needs fixing. Not you.”
He was right, though, when he said it earlier. This isn’t about you. “Where did you come up with that, anyways?” you ask.
The lines on his face, those deep, concerned creases between his brows, spell out what the fuck. You don’t understand what’s so hard about that question—what he can’t figure out, why the confusion lingers in his eyes. “This… This is the second time you’ve offered to help me.”
“I was trying to be supportive. Encouraging, even—that’s also a good word for it.”
“It all feels the same,” he tells you, taking his turn to sigh. “Which is to say patronizing, sometimes.”
And that was not what you intended. “I’m sorry, I’m not trying to be a saint or anything. That’s not entirely it.” You fight the turtle-like urge to retract into your sweatshirt, which would arguably be more stupidly embarrassing than admitting: “I was just looking for… common ground, I guess. Ways to hang out without dragging you out with us.”
“Are we not doing that right now?”
“Sure, but I feel bad about it.” There’s the silvery peek of his computer, buried on the desk. “I’m keeping you from more important things.”
“You’re not,” he says—no, placates, but the disbelieving press of your lips makes him reconsider. “Well, eh, perhaps, but I can manage. I’ve dealt with Heimerdinger’s high expectations and, mm, sadistic deadlines for years. The weekends work well to make up for lost time, and there is all night after this too.”
“You should sleep.”
“I can’t. Not well.”
You give a creaky little bounce—not much of one, no spring to it—to demonstrate: “Maybe because your mattress feels about as hard as sleeping on the ground.”
“One problem of many, yes.”
You count yourself among them, in one way or another. You’ve been leaking these awful insecurities all night.
Is it any wonder that another slips?
“It’s just—the last thing I want is to bother you. Everyone, really, but especially you.”
“Is that because of me?” he asks quietly. “Because of what I said?”
Oh, you’ve carried this around since day one. Let it color his tone and his words and his actions. Let it haunt you trying to reach for others, the freshest nick in a line of scars that was never stitched properly. That’s what you get for letting all those little anxieties run wild with knives in their hands. That’s what you get for forgiving him before he ever asked for it, as if that would make things easier. For you. For him. For everyone.
It hasn’t.
Viktor crosses the three steps between you on bare, nobby feet. His weight dips the bed beside you ever slightly, like he’s hardly there. But he is, by the way his leg bumps your knee, and you scoot over to give him space.
He doesn’t seem to know what to do with his hands, grasping at some distant thread. They’re as awkward as he is in saying, “I can’t recall what I meant at the time, but it… it wasn’t that. It would’ve been fine if you thought less of me for it, but not of yourself.”
You shake your head. “It’s—don’t worry, it’s not all you,” you say, softening his guilt, perhaps at your own expense. “I have a lot of anxiety, and that’s a long running thing, okay? It’s mostly… me.”
“That’s… good to know. About you, I mean. Not that it’s—it’s good. Just, eh, helpful to know.”
“I guess that’s generally the benefit of being upfront about things,” you shrug as if it comes easy.
“I would prefer that, I think.”
It doesn’t, but the light, fizzy feeling of relief makes you want to try, if only to have more of it. Maybe more of his shy little smiles too. This time with more intention, and less leaky word vomit.
“Okay…” You shift to face him fully, mirroring his posture in leaning back on your hand for support. “Then in no uncertain terms, I want you to know that I’m not trying to fix you.” Been there, done that, got the shitty dunce hat. People don’t change unless they want to. You know that. “I just wish you were kinder to yourself, but that’s on you. So if you ever decide you want better, whatever that means, I’ll be there. Only if you want me to and only on your own terms—no physical activity required.”
“I might want to consider it, you know…” His voice lowers, softer and softer with hesitation, to the point that you find yourself leaning in. Noticing, as he seems to have noticed, that your hands are a hair’s breadth apart. “As a future prospect, if anything. But you have to understand, I don’t enjoy being watched.”
“I get that.”
“Mm, no, I imagine people stare at you for very different reasons,” he mutters. “Not pity. Envy, perhaps.”
“I promise, most people don’t want these thunder thighs,” you huff, resisting the urge to slap them like a used car salesman. These babies can fit so much soul-crushing insecurity, which is a terrible pitch, really. The occasional bouts of self-loathing are not your strongest selling point.
He lets out the strangest bark of a laugh, so dry it’s almost ugly, as if he can read your mind.
But you didn’t mean to derail. “Sorry, continue.”
“Right…” Viktor draws in a long breath, quiet for a moment before he figures out how to word it. “It’s as simple as that I would rather go unseen. It’s very, ah, personal. And painful, sometimes.”
You think of the age old adage: If it hurts, don’t do it. “Um, not a doctor, but I don’t think it’s supposed to be?”
“So they say,” he nods pensively, eyes ticking over some distant thought, maybe a memory. “It wasn’t like this before. The discomfort wasn’t… serious. That’s how I was able to ignore it for so long.”
“Ignore what?”
Not the brutal slam of the garage door across the house, for one thing. The pictures on the wall must be hanging crooked now.
Viktor sits straighter—if that’s even possible—and calls out: “Jayce?”
Footsteps—softer, distant.
His eyes snap back to yours. “It’s been a week since he’s come home,” he tells you in a quick whisper. “Mm, well, in the evening. He’s here in the morning—”
“To work out at the ass crack of dawn? I know.”
“You were invited?”
“He knows better than to think I’ll get up that early. I saw on his Instagram.”
Footsteps—louder now.
Viktor nods sagely. “Ah, yes, the stories. By my count, he has written, eh, ‘rise and grind’ forty three times since the first of the year.”
“That’s…” Your math isn’t great but, “More than once a week,” you whisper back, on the cusp of giggles as Viktor nods. And then, it hits you. “Wait—”
But the footsteps have stopped.
And instead, there’s Jayce’s stoop-shouldered figure braced in the doorway. He sniffles loudly.
He’s still dressed in the khakis and blue button down he wears to work—rumpled, sleeve cuffs smeared darker. His eyes have that red, raw, burning swell of someone who's tried very hard not to cry, and failed spectacularly.
Viktor finds the words you’re looking for with immediate precision. “Has something happened?” he asks, voice tight, hand tighter on your shoulder as he leans around you to look his roommate over. “Jayce?”
They spend a lot of time apart. Sometimes it’s easy to forget that they’re best friends too.
He swipes at his nose as it runs into the raw little divot above his lip. Beyond sadness, there’s a guilty cast to his dark, hazel eyes, turned down to the floorboards, but you can’t find your voice to tell him that this isn’t what it looks like.
“Are you… injured?” Viktor tries again.
Jayce shakes his head. No.
“Is your mother alright?”
“She’s fine,” he rasps. “Um… Can I just—?” he asks, gesturing weakly to the two of you.
Which you think must translate to: “You want to come sit?”
“Yeah.”
Viktor’s of course comes without apprehension, without judgment. Only with the apparent surprise that he even needed to ask.
But Jayce, in several long legged strides, doesn’t come sit. No, he collapses face first onto the bed behind you, all broad, shaking shoulders and quiet sniffles seeping out from behind his arms. They hide his face and nothing else. Hands curling, clenching into his shirtsleeve, there’s the thick band of a tan line striped across his middle finger.
You turn yourself around, scooching closer, folding up cross-legged to face him.
You’ve never seen him like this—laid so low. A sweat stain blooms dark at the small of his back, up between his shoulder blades, but sweat is sweat and Jayce is Jayce. You reach out to rub his back despite it. “It’s alright…” you whisper. Feels like putting band-aids on a bleeding heart, but it’s all you have.
Soft cotton weave catches the peeling skin of old blisters as you soothe your hand in circles. His shirt leaches the vetiver smell of cologne, but somewhere beneath it, there’s an elegant, cloying perfume still lingers. It’s no secret where he spends most of his time these days.
You meet Viktor’s searching eyes and mouth: Mel.
He nods gravely as if to say he drew the same conclusion.
Say something—that’s your next silent suggestion, canting your head toward Jayce.
But instead, Jayce takes a deep, wet, shuddering breath and asks, muffled into the mattress, “Can… Can we go to Taco Bell?”
“Sure…” you murmur. He could’ve asked you to drive him two states over to bury a body and you would’ve agreed just as thoughtlessly. Anything he needs. “We’ll take you.”
He doesn’t move. Just sniffles at a prompting little scritch to the nape of his neck, where his hair fades out to shadowy, peach-flesh fuzz.
So you ask, “Do you want to go change, and then I can drive us?”
“Can I just have a minute? Please?”
“Why?” demands a perplexed Viktor, still soft spoken. Desperate for an answer that isn’t made of cobbled assumptions; blunt in its pursuit.
And worried. You can tell that he’s worried.
As if you’d been the one to ask, the personification of wet, doleful misery lifts his head and looks up at you. His face is a ruin of dark, clumpy lashes and tear-tracked skin. His lip wobbles, the pressure of withholding little sobs building, building, building. But speaking it aloud makes it real. Speaking it aloud breaks the levee.
“I think we just broke up,” he finally whispers.
And cries face-down for another hour after that.
#arcane#viktor#viktor arcane#viktor x reader#reader insert#arcane x reader#my writing#literally beating tumblr with a stick i've been formatting this for fOURTY FUCKING MINUTES#GOD.#negl crying like a little bitch from the relief of finally posting this#pour one out for heraldeez who has to listen to me#just like jayce fr fr
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Reuniting With Ekko, Vi And Viktor
EKKO
You had been a kid taken in by Vander
And he was friends with a man named Benzo, who had also taken a kid under his wing
So, you had always been close to Ekko and Powder most out of all the kids
Being closer to their age and all
You all were together everyday, never leaving each other's side
You and Ekko were hanging out one day when you saw a strange man come into the shop
You both could tell he wasn't from the Undercity
And he paid Ekko in gold, Ekko charged him double price with your convincing
And after you both followed him to his pretty apartment in Piltover
And you could tell he was rich, or had rich connections
So when you guys came back you told Vi, she was proud as hell of you both
And her, Powder, Claggor and Mylo left to rob the apartment
That was the start of it all
Vander was taken, Benzo was killed and in the middle of the night after staying with Ekko to help him, you felt the ground shake
You panicked, telling Ekko to stay there in the shop as you ran like hell
When you got there Vi was leaning against a wall as she sobbed
You kneeled down beside her to check on her, worried as she looked at you shocked
Then you both looked up, seeing the man recognized as Silco standing above your best friend on the ground
You both bolted, standing up to go get her before you were hit on the head
You fell to the ground, your conscious abandoning you
When you woke up, you were in a stone cell with Vi shaking you
You both were in prison, you thought they couldn't keep you there without trial o question
But you were wrong
Simply because you were from the Undercity, they kept you both there
For seven years
Vi kept you safe, you were all she had
But you both wanted out
And one day you got it
When a certain someone came around with a drawing of a monkey
You finally came back to the Undercity, looking for Powder and Ekko
And you found Powder, just not in the way you thought
And then you were ambushed by people in masks
One you swore you saw before, lingering in the shadows
And then you woke up in a random room
The one in the mask leaning against a wall
You opened your eyes, your head hurt like hell from being knocked out. You groaned as you sat up, rubbing your head as you looked around. You looked in the corner, a ray of light seeping in until you saw something.
Leaning against a wall, in the shadows a man with a white owl mask leaned against a wall. You glared, standing up as you clenched your fists.
"Who the hell are you?" You asked, your guard fully up as he slowly stepped out of the shadows.
"Why the hell am I here? Why won't you fucking answer?!" You yelled, impatient as he just kept staring at you.
You then intently watched as he reached up to his mask, your eyes widening as you saw he was taking it off.
His head faced to the ground, his mask hissing as he dropped it to his side. He then stepped into the light, looking up as your eyes found familiarity in his face.
"...Ekko?" You breathed out, shocked as you stepped forward once. You then stopped as he looked at you with a blank stare. "Where the hell have you been?" He asked.
"What? Where am I? What the hell is all this?" You asked, panicking as you looked around. You didn't like not knowing stuff, feeling paranoid of what was to come.
"What do you know about this?" He asked, opening a case to a blue stone. "Nothing! Powder had it, I don't know why but- shit, oh my god." You said, pacing back and forth as you tried to calm down.
"Where have you been? Where have you and Vi been? And why the hell were you with Jinx and-" Everything felt like it was spinning, Ekko's questions coming in fast and you couldn't keep up.
You felt tears pooling in your eyes, your hands meeting your head as you tried to get the feeling of nausea to pass.
You wanted to know where you were, what happened while you were gone and what the hell happened to Powder.
"Ekko! Jus-Just shut the hell up!" You cut him off, yelling as he paused and looked at you worried.
You looked tired, your entire body shaking as you tried to make sense of what was happening. Everything was so fast and you couldn't keep up.
"What the hell is going on?! What happened?! Me and Vi, w-we were thrown in Still- Prison and-" Ekko's eyes widened at your confession, Prison? What the hell did you mean Prison?
"Prison?! What the hell do you mean by Prison, Y/n?" He asked, you looking at him. "Yeah, we were thrown in Stillwater. No trial, nothing for seven fucking years!" You yelled, closing your eyes as you backed up into a pole.
You breathed heavily as you tried to ground yourself.
"What happened while we were gone?! Powder- or Jinx, or whoever the fuck! What happened to her?! What happened to my best friend…" you trailed off, beginning to sob as everything sunk in.
Through the years you never actually had time to sit and think so it was all coming in like waves.
Vander had died, Benzo died, Claggor and Mylo died. You and I were thrown in jail without question.
When you got out Powder was someone else, Silco flooded the lanes and took your guys' home. And Ekko was fucking yelling at you.
You hated being yelled at, it was something your birth parents did before leaving you to rot and it stuck with you.
Ekko looked at you sadly, his eyes filled with sympathy and guilt as he remembered you hated being yelled at. He slowly steps toward you, grabbing your hand and softly pulling you close to him.
"It's okay, everything's fine, I'm here…" he quietly stated, you holding onto him for dear life as your breathing calmed down.
"What happened while we were gone…?" You quietly asked, looking up at Ekko. He sighed, shaking his head. "A lot, Y/n. A lot." He stated.
You examined his face, lifting your palm to his right cheek as you sniffled. "Aw, Little man isn't little anymore." You laughed softly, Ekko rolling his eyes at you amusedly.
You slowly pulled back into the hig, your ear rested against his chest where his heart was.
You found Ekko, and for now you would live in the moment. At least for a bit, because at least he was okay.
VI
You had been taken in by Benzo when young
And met Vi a couple days after
You two were stuck together by the hip
You were close in age and liked being together
You were the calm one while she was the harsh one
Still, match made in heaven
She liked being with you because you were calming
You liked being with her because she was her
And everything was great
Until the apartment heist
Everything went wrong after that
Benzo died
And so did Vander, Mylo and Claggor
What didn't help was Vi had went missing and Powder became Jinx
She never messed with you, visiting you when she could
But she didn't like being reminded of Powder
She clung to you still because you were all she had left, and you were like her other big sister growing up
You came to terms Vi was dead, you had to survive though
So Babbette offered you a job, at the Brothel
Wasn't your ideal job but you took it
Everything was a bit peaceful in your life for a while
Until the past came knocking
You cleaned up your room in the brothel, your last client had come in and left after about 30 minutes and you were done for the day.
You were tired as hell and just wanted to get to Jericho's, eat and come back and sleep until forever. You had changed into something a bit more comfortable, grabbing your keys and about to head out until you heard the door open.
It then clicked closed just as you reached for your keys. You sighed, talking over your shoulder. "Wrong room. I'm done for the day, sorry." You said, walking forward as your hand grasped your keychain.
"Aw, too bad. You sure you don't have time for me, sweetheart?" That voice…you heard it before. You froze, you felt like you couldn't move at all. You recognized it but you didn't want to accept it.
Over the years your mind played tricks on you, a glimpse in your peripheral had you thinking Vi was around the corner. A whisper in your ear made you flinch thinking it was her only to come back to earth a second later.
You shook your head, not looking behind you. "Enough with the games, brain. She's not here…" you mumbled to yourself, resuming what you had been doing.
"But it's not a game. It's me, Y/n." She said again, this time you felt like crying as you realized she didn't go away. She would've left by now if it was a game.
You slowly turned around, your eyes finding the woman now grown up standing in front of you. She stared back at you with a small smile, her eyes looked you up and down.
"...Vi?" You whispered, afraid to talk as if she would disappear. She nodded her head, stepping closer to you. You gave a small sniffle, as she got closer you lunged at her.
You knocked her back a fre steps before she stabled herself. She gave a small chuckle mixed with a sniffle. She hugged you back, missing your touch over the years.
"You're okay.. How in hell are you alive?" You asked, your head not leaving her chest. "Believe me, I don't even know." She mumbled, resting her chin on top of your head as she closed her eyes.
She felt a little peace in that moment, holding you. Maybe the seven years of hoping and praying paid off, because you were actually here.
Alive. And with her now.
And god, she was never letting you go, ever again.
VIKTOR
Your dad was Singed, and you met him when his boat flowed through the cavern
That's when you first saw him, you sat next to Rio as it knocked against your foot
He then stepped into your vision
He was hesitant until your dad beckoned him towards you guys as he held his toy boat in his hand
You then noticed his cane, tilting your head at it but shaking it off
Wasn't anything new, and was best not to ask
He was a loner, not being able to play with the other kids
You didn't like playing with them, thought they were idiots who were even ruder than their parents
You preferred staying with your dad and helping Rio
And eventually you three became loners together
You and Viktor grew up close together
You were stuck to the other like glue
You also both helped your dad with his gadgetry and projects
Everything was good, until Rio god worse
You begged your dad to let her go, but he always said the same thing
"The mutation must survive"
But Viktor didn't like it
And he left
You never saw him again for a long time
Viktor sat in his lab, Jayce gone for the day for whatever he did. He was messing with Hex tech, trying to improve it as he heard the lab door open.
"Sorry, Jayce is not here. And I am quite busy." He called over his shoulder, not looking back as he went back to his gadget.
He heard a sigh from behind him. 'Must be Sky.' He thought, not paying anymore mind until a voice broke the silence.
"Aw, not even enough time for little 'ol me?" He paused, it couldn't be. He hadn't seen you for years. And in Piltover? His lab nonetheless?
He turned around, shocked as he saw your smirking face standing at the middle counter of the lab.
"Y/n!" He exclaimed, smiling as he stood up and grabbed his cane. You laughed, walking towards him and meeting him halfway. You wrapped your arms around his neck.
"I haven't seen you in years." He smiled, you pulling away as you laughed. "Yeah, about time, huh?" He nodded his head. "Yes, how did you know I was here?" He asked.
"I got in contact with your lab partner, Jayce. He was excited to help." You explained, nudging his cheek as he shook his head. "Remind me to thank him, for once." He joked.
"Wow, Piltover really has a hold on you. You have humour now?" You teased, the man rolling his eyes at you amusedly as he pulled away.
"Come, I should show you my creation." He walked over to his desk, you following him
You always wondered what his life was in Piltover, now you could be a part of it.
#vi arcane x reader#arcane x you#ekko arcane x reader#arcane ekko x you#arcane ekko#arcane ekko x reader#arcane viktor x reader#arcane vi x reader#arcane violet#arcane viktor#viktor x reader#ekko x reader#vi x reader#arcane viktor x you#viktor arcane x reader#viktor arcane x you#arcane reader#arcane reader insert
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Vampire!Viktor x Female!Reader 01
i’ve been having brain rot about vampire!viktor and a female!reader, and just—
this is now a series i’ve dubbed cryptid!viktor! here’s a little blurb about merman!viktor :) linked HERE
you first meet him when you go to explore a decrepit old mansion on the hill of your little village in the middle of the night. the year is 18th century something, and you hike your skirts up as you scale the tall wrought iron fence surrounding the estate. except as you climb the wall, you realize it’s basically rusted steel.
why was that? wasn’t steel more expensive than iron?
this was a bad idea, but you were always curious and liked old things. they made you sad. but in a good way.
the estate is just as drab and creepy up close as it was far away. but you are astounded by the detail. gargoyles and griffons positioned at the tops of the corners keep watch over the massive house, and their stone eyes seem to follow you as you approach the large front door.
the door is made of wood, and there is a large cast iron (again, you realize it’s steel) knocker in the shape of what looks like a demon with horns. is it a bad omen? you clutch your necklace tight in your fist as you reach for the door knocker and knock twice.
nothing.
the door is unlocked, and you have to put your entire body weight against it in order to open the beast of a door. inside is almost pitch black, and you hoist your bag that’s been strapped against your torso until now, and pull out a packet of matches. then feeling along the wall, you find a candelabra and use the match to light the dusty candles.
the room is illuminated by the warm glow, and you swear you see glowing golden eyes in the corner. but as you look closer, they simply disappear.
talk about spooky.
cobwebs hang from the chandelier, and the air is thick with dust, making you sneeze and almost blow your candles out. a breeze comes through the open door, and the flames flicker and go out.
suddenly you get a very, very bad feeling.
“who are you?” comes an accented voice, and you jump, whirling and feeling your skirts swish against your heeled boots as you look up to the top of the massive staircase.
the man is dressed immaculately in a cravat, a pristine white long-sleeved shirt with puffy sleeves, a wine-red vest, and slim trousers that hug his legs all the way down to his shined shoes. his hair is a dark chocolate brown, and his eyes are that glowing golden color.
the eyes from before.
“i did knock,” you say hastily, and he scoffs,
“i heard you. now who are you?” is all he says in return, and you spin on a heel, dropping the candelabra and sprinting for the door.
only for it to slam shut, leaving you beating against the wood.
“let me out!” you shriek and turn back to face the man. he’s descended the stairs now and is but a few paces away. somewhere in the back of your mind, you realize he’s beautiful. with porcelain skin and two beauty marks dotting his cheeks. his eyes aren’t exactly gold, but a pretty amber that seemingly glows gold with unnatural power.
“no, i don’t think i will. what is your name?” he says, and you swallow as he gets closer, stuttering out your name.
but there’s something on his face that you can’t quite define.
“what are you going to do to me?” you whisper, and he tilts his head,
“that i am not sure of yet. but seeing as you trespassed on my property, i think i’ll figure out something,” he says and reaches for your throat.
only to recoil with a cry of pain and clutching his steaming hand.
you look down to see your silver necklace in the shape of a cross steaming as well. you weren’t particularly religious, but it was given to you by your father on his deathbed, and you had promised never to take it off.
it looks like even now; he’s watching over you.
but then the dots connect, and everything makes sense.
“are you a vampire?” you ask, and he glares with bared teeth. the sharpened incisors are proof of your claim.
but instead of fear, you feel curious.
but you don’t get the chance to ask any more questions as he turns and disappears without another word. literally, one second, he’s there, and the next, he’s simply gone in a wisp of the wind. mysteriously, the door opens, and you are let out without any more trouble. you all but run to the steel gates but turn back at the last second.
and see the man in the window, watching you as you scurry away like a mouse running from a cat.
as soon as you get home, the sun begins to rise, and your mother descends on you like the worried parent she is.
“where were you?! i was worried sick!” she all but shouts, and you flinch at the noise. you had scarcely opened the door when she had been up from her chair and across the dirt floor to grasp your elbows, scanning you up and down for any injuries.
which save for a minor burn mark against your skin from the necklace; you are just covered in dirt and minor scratches from running through the brush surrounding the mansion.
“i’m fine mother, i just went on a walk to the mansion up on the hill,” you say and realize quickly it was a mistake.
her face morphs into one of terror and anger. her grip on your arms loosens, and she frantically holds your face in her calloused hands. they’re worn with years of washing laundry in lye. she was a servant in baron silco’s estate as a laundry maid. you were a seamstress and tailoress who made clothing for noblemen and women who traveled through baron silco’s land.
but your job was beside the point. your mother looked like she was about to pass out from fear.
“you know that a monster haunts the mansion! you mustn't go up there ever again! promise me!” she chastises, and you nod in a daze.
for some reason, you can’t get that man out of your head.
and realize why as you sew the clothing of a noblewoman named caitlyn kiramman.
he looked old and lonely and oh so sad.
you resolve to yourself that you are going to visit again and try not to get killed.
you manage to sneak out a week later when your mother is fast asleep. it’s always been just the two of you ever since your father died, so at least you don’t have to worry about siblings or grandparents like many of the other peasants in your village. the trek up to the mansion is shorter than you remember, the worn dirt leading the way as your eyes adjust in the bright moonlight.
again, the door is unlocked, and the windows are empty. you ease it open, wincing at the squealing hinges echoing into the night. if he didn’t know you were coming, he certainly did now.
he’s waiting for you at the top of the stairs. his eyes widen almost imperceptibly when he recognizes it’s you.
“what are you doing here? here to kill me?” he asks, and you stop in your tracks.
“what? no! i’m here… well… i’m here because you looked sad.” you say, trailing off at the end, realizing how ridiculous you sounded. your skirts are clenched in your fists, and your apron is rough against your fingertips.
“you’re here… because i looked… sad?” his tone is colored with shades of confusion and curiosity. but he didn’t seem angry, and that was good. so you nod,
“it sounds stupid i know—”
“it is stupid. leave now,” the man commands, and you freeze at the commanding tone in his voice. it booms through the large room, making you feel as small as a dust mite in his presence. he turns to ascend the rest of the stairs toward one of the mansion’s many corridors, and you panic. you didn’t want to come all this way for nothing.
“wait!” you cry and hurry up the steps after him, hiking your skirts up and scurrying up the stairs after the retreating man. he doesn’t stop, doesn’t slow down, if anything, he speeds up slightly. the halls are dark and filled with more cobwebs, but you find as you get closer to the heart of the mansion, they grow less prominent, and the torches are actually lit. the man shuts a door behind him, and you open it before he can lock it.
“i just want to talk!” you say, and he turns to look at you. before he can say anything, you get a good look around the room.
it’s lit by oil lamps and candelabras. papers are strewn about between two desks, and they’re also covered in various gears and gadgets. you spy a few handkerchiefs covered in grease in under a few papers. a bed is in the corner and neatly made blood-red bedsheets are spread over the mattress. it looks comfier than anything you have ever seen.
abruptly, you realize he’s started talking.
“—want you to leave,” he says curtly, and you bite your cheek.
“aren’t you lonely?” you ask quietly, and he freezes, his back to you.
you seize your chance and ask another question,
“what’s your name?” you ask, and he turns his head slightly, looking at you out of the corner of his eye.
“it’s viktor.”
#viktor x reader#viktor arcane x reader#viktor arcane x you#viktor arcane x y/n#arcane viktor x reader#arcane viktor x you#arcane viktor x y/n#viktor x you#viktor x y/n#arcane x reader#female reader#reader insert#arcane fanfic#fairy writes#cryptid!viktor
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Arcane Preference
HOW THEY ARGUE & MAKE UP WITH YOU
Characters: Silco, Viktor, Jinx, Vi, Jayce Talis, Vander & Sevika.
Request: “what are arcane characters like after a discussion (*argument) with your reader. who would apologize first, how would they handle it.thanks” — @supermegapauselouca
Tags: i guess troubled relationships?
A/N: espero que vc goste! likes/reblogs/feedback greatly appreciated!! (SO SORRY FOR THE LONG HIATUS i seriously blame my anxiety and depression)
update: I FORGOT VANDER UGH brb
support me on ko-fi & feel free to commission me!
—SILCO
one thing’s for sure, if you two will argue, silco will always stick with his thoughts. he has more power, and his vision for zaun often scares you because of what could happen when war ensues. silco would never threaten you, but if you ever did something to sabotage his vision, you’d imagine the worst and eventually avoid further arguments with him. when he realizes that it’s not only his work that terrifies you, but also himself. you two have a one-on-one heartfelt talk, assuring that he’ll get hurt first before you do.
—VIKTOR
you and viktor could be arguing over the littlest things, like him staying up too late in the lab, or the lack of attention and time he has for you. you learn that viktor has a low frustration tolerance and he’ll snap at you if you try to pursue the argument. you notice the realization and guilt hit him and you see it in his eyes and face, and he’ll apologize in a low voice and take it out on himself when the self-blame hits.
—JINX
jinx is never gonna admit that she’s wrong, so it’s just straight up gaslighting and lack of communication when you two argue. it would take her a while to finally open up to you because she destroys everything she sees, and one of you eventually apologizes. most of the time, it’s you apologizing for misunderstanding her, or her apologizing when she directly (or indirectly) hurts you. jinx cares and does not ever want to hurt you, but her actions and intrusive thoughts stop her from mending the damages she causes.
—VI
you two will argue over everything. most of the time it’s for the sake of your own safety, and vi would never forgive herself if you ever got hurt and she couldn’t protect you in time. plus, vi is very sharp and tough as nails so her way of running things in zaun would not be to your liking due to the conditions and conflicts. vi always apologizes, though, and you two have to stick together if the two of you want to live and defeat silco.
— JAYCE TALIS
jayce is pretty ambitious but yet so stubborn, so when you confront him on how he’s running council, he takes it very personally and looks down on you, thinking that you don’t know what you’re talking about and how you don’t know how politics work in piltover. jayce is the one who approaches you alone when he’s defeated and stuck in the situation he’s in. he admits that you were right, and asks for your help.
– SEVIKA
you and sevika constantly bicker. she’s very verbal in the arguments, and insists that what she does is right, even if silco thinks otherwise. though you almost never see her soft or vulnerable side, you really want sevika to be responsible of her actions and what she says to avoid getting killed. she apologizes to you at the bar and offers you a drink. she knows she can’t focus without the thought of you getting hurt by silco, any zaun rival gangs or piltover enforcers.
#arcane preference#arcane x reader#arcane imagines#arcane league of legends#arcane#silco x reader#viktor x reader#jinx x reader#vi x reader#jayce talis x reader#vander x reader#sevika x reader#reader insert#preference
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Your being
FEM DNI, I SWEAR YOU WILL BE BLOCKED ESPECIALLY WITH THIS
Viktor(Arcane) x FTM! Reader
Word Count: 1.7k
Tw: Mentions of Dysphoria, Mentions of being ashamed for being trans, some self-hate, Reader is on T, Reader is Pre-Top Surgery but is getting it, Needles, maybe ooc Viktor(?), The word trans is never used it is always referred to as “this”(makes sense in the context), Viktor got cured
A/n: HAPPY TRANS VISIBILITY DAY! Yes I know I am a little late on this but I still wanted to put something out there as a trans guy. This fic is based on a lot of my own emotions with being trans and how it’s caused me to view myself but also how I’ve grown from my past views of myself causing me to not be ashamed of myself and just let myself be me. And if anyone wants to hear any funny stories from my trans ass I would be more than willing to share them as there is a surplus. So to all my fellow trans masculine folks I hope you enjoy this fic and I wish the best to all of you!<3
In the midst of pursuing the hexacore and building hextech with Jayce, Viktor had met you, a bookstore owner from the rim in which Piltover and Zaun met. You were far more intelligent than being a bookstore owner would let on but didn’t show it off not even being aware that you had it causing Viktor to take on an immediate liking to you as he would peruse through the bookstore on his way to the lab in the early mornings when nothing yet your shop was open. The two of you had become quick friends and then eventually lovers and then you found yourselves sharing an apartment for what you two tried to excuse as for “financial reasons” even though you both knew it to not be true. Your relationship had been built on trust which didn’t come easy for either of you and yet you had kept something to yourself for all the time you had been together you didn’t know why, you weren’t ashamed of it itself, but you guessed you were ashamed in your mind that it would never be the same after Viktor would know. So it was your secret you kept, Viktor never verbally questioned why would would sleep with your shirt on, why you would use a bathrobe instead of a towel, why anytime physical intimacy started to “heat up” you’d awkwardly would put an end to it, why some days you’d sneer at anything that had a glossy enough surface to see your reflection, why you’d have to stab yourself with a needle full of some mysterious medicine(of course in the beginning he did question that one in concerns of your health and safety) and other attributes that for most men wouldn’t make sense. And you were so thankful for that so you kept your secret you knew it would never last but being with Viktor was sweet bliss so you’d enjoy it while it lasted. However you got a letter in the mail regarding top surgery you had spent years saving up for it your hands shook opening the letter terrified of what the surgeon had wrote and reading it you dropped it on the desk, heart surging, tears starting to well out of your eyes, and a huge smile found its way onto your face. They said yes. They said yes. The approval of the surgery. You’d finally be rid of the flesh on your chest that you so much anguish, the flesh that you detested would be replaced by two scars that would mark your struggle and victory. But as you checked the time you realized you were going to be late opening the shop you quickly stuffed the letter in the desk not thinking much about it running off being sure to lock the door behind you racing down the squeaky hallways.
Hours later Viktor arrived home shockingly early for him, you hadn’t even been home yet the reason he was home is he realized that while working on the hexacore he had some papers in the desk that could assist. He briskly walked over to the desk, his cane letting out soft sharp thuds against the wooden ground arriving at the desk. He opened the drawer and grabbed the papers without a thought rushing back to the lab even though it caused a thrumming pain in his leg. At the lab he slowly sat down in the wooden rolling chair he sifted through the papers reading each one carefully under the little lamp desk till he arrived at a letter confused. He read the first line and his heart dropped. It read your name and the words “ your surgery has been approved”. Viktor immediately stood upwards stumbling forgetting to grab his can but using the desk as support. He didn’t read past the first line but he knew what it meant or at least what he thought it meant. He grabbed his cane hurdling himself out of the lab barely remembering to lock it behind him he headed towards the apartment you both had called home, he knew at this time you’d be there. And he knew you, he knew that you would only get surgery that was essential to you which in his mind left only one possibility you were dying or could die without the surgery which broke his heart. Why would you keep something like that from him, especially knowing that once too he was a dying man. It also hurt him that it felt like you couldn’t rely upon him he would gladly pay for it then and one hundred times over after all hextech did make him and Jayce more wealthy and even then he could emotionally support you, be an anchor if you needed it. He wobbled up the uneven stairs and down the hall of the apartment building quickly unlocking the wooden oak door to your home while still having the letter in hand. Opening the door he saw you sitting on the couch curled up reading a book. He barged through the door slamming it behind him making you aware of his presence.
“ Hey Vik-“ You started to say before getting cut off by Viktor.
“ What is this?” He said sharply holding up the letter in his free hand giving it a slight shake angrily. Your eyes became as wide as saucers staring at the letter in his hand with fear as you bolted upwards your hands out in front of you ready to explain everything ready for your relationship to be over.
“ Look I can explain-“ You started once again before once again being cut off by the other male quite harshly.
“ How can you explain this?! How can you justify hiding this?!” Viktor responded bitterly, his tongue cutting sharp like knives.
“ I’m sorry I didn’t think it would ever get this far-“ You tried to say before Viktor interrupted.
“ You didn’t think it would get this far?! And what you're sorry you didn’t tell me you are dying!” He seethed out wrapped up in his emotions too wrapped up to notice the confused expression on your face.
“ I'm sorry, what?” You said dumbfounded and in utter confusion of his statement. Only saying this caused him to go on a rant about how could you not tell him and other statements along those lines. You went into your headspace trying to figure out what in the actual hell this conversation was about only to think about it more. Quickly you caught onto the fact that Viktor has always respected your privacy but a he must’ve accidentally come across the letter as it had been in the desk with some of his papers and had read it stopping after the first line for the sake of your privacy but also worry.
“ Viktor,” you started out sternly trying to make your voice as flat as possible. “ Viktor read the entire letter.”
Viktor just went silent his face still held bits of grief and anger but sure enough he looked down reading the letter his face remaining the same till you figured he came across the line “ the consultation before your chest masculinization subcutaneous mastectomy will be held on the date xx/xx/xxxx if you have any concerns or need to reschedule please respond back.” Viktors face softened with realization of your avoidance of being shirtless, or just naked in front of him for that matter yet unreadable as he finished the letter. He looked up at you. You thought you would be terrified and yet you felt relieved but you also felt grief mourning the relationship which you had thrived in wither away because of what you are.
“ I am sorry I lied to you, I'll pack my stuff and stay at the store.” You started remorsefully, your head hanging low, refusing to look at him chewing at your bottom lip in stress. The sound of his cane thumping across the floor matched your heartbeat and when he stopped in front of you the thumping stopped with both his cane and your heart. You almost jerked at the feeling of his strong thin hand that was placed on your shoulder waiting a second to see if you’d push his hand away from your shoulder to which you didn’t he stepped even closer sliding his arm around you holding you against his chest lightly to not scare you. While Viktor was touch starved it was often you who took charge grabbing his hand, pulling him into hugs and kisses all sorts of intimate moments but when he did take the lead it meant something it was his way of telling you that he loved you. And you could tell exactly what he was doing here embracing you gently enough where you could pull away at any moment if you so desired but hard enough where it anchored you there in that moment with him.
“ You never lied, and I am sorry my love I just worry for you.” The brunette male Sid squeezes you slightly for your comfort or maybe his own.
“ I am sorry I kept this from you but how can you still love me after knowing about this” you said wildly gesturing to your body still in VIktors embrace.
“ Because I love your entire being and this is a part of you so I love it as well.” VIktor stated warmly as if the sentiment was basic logic. But that’s exactly what you loved about Viktor is that to him his compassion, his love was just basic logic yet any other person would actually struggle to empathize and love at his level. And with the statement any of that shame that festered in you seeped out maybe not completely but you at least knew that you didn’t have to feel ashamed of it.
“ I love you so much Viktor.” You said squeezing you arms around him you could sense he flushed at the statemeant while he could say the sweetest phrases that mean ten times more than I love you to other people he himself could barely hear an “ I love you” without flushing and stammering.
“ And I you. And if you need me by your side I will be there.” He said squeezing you back the two of you standing there in the middle of your home just enjoying each other's embrace soaking in the love for one another.
#x male reader#Male reader#male reader insert#x ftm reader#ftm reader#viktor x male reader#Viktor x ftm reader#arcane x male reader#Arcane x ftm reader#x transmasc reader#x trans male reader#Trans#LiliumsAbyss<3
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Eye Contact
When you had brought the idea before the council, you hadn’t quite expected the attention from Viktor. You felt yourself wavering before the seated panel, your hands shaking very slightly, not from lack of confidence but from the accumulated thoughts that told you that if this was to be accepted, you would have made your first real contribution. The pointed spotlight blinded you from being able to focus on their faces, and this added to your list of anxieties. What if the point you had fixed your eye contact onto was nothing at all? The light hid so much, what if you were just staring uncannily at the wall?
Viktor was impressed, not only were you presenting something important, with unquestionable impact if it was to work, but your eye contact was unwavering. He was captivated. You stared so intently at him, your eyes fixated and thoughtful. He had begun to wonder to himself if he had misread any signals he had given off. He hadn’t intended to be flirtatious towards you. Maybe he had said something? Maybe he had held your gaze for slightly too long previously, and this was some strange but very much enjoyed punishment? His mind was wondering, spiralling into a loop of thoughts that awakened something that he did not know was hidden.
“Yes.” Viktor stepped forward, “I believe that this idea will be fruitful”
You hadn’t finished the sentence you had started. Viktor was dead ahead, central to your field of view, the exact point in the darkness that you were using as the anchor to dock your nervousness.
If you had known that was where you were looking, your temperament would not have handled it, your face flushes in recognition. You had always had admiration for him, his work, his contribution, but this was something more. You were slowly building the courage to potentially speak to him before about it, but the time never felt right, and the possibility that it would affect your work-life was not something that comforted you. You felt that your face was showing the exact thought process you were stuttering through internally, and you realised you hadn’t replied.
You had forgotten the sentence you had just started, “oh really?”.
Your inner monologue kicked you for being both so unprofessional and so unsure sounding in yourself. Yes, really? Of course, really!
“I am thankful you are onboard! Are there any questions left unanswered so far?” You ask.
You hadn’t meant to dismiss him.
“I have no questions” He replied, still standing directly ahead. Viktor answering first and so surely had completely dominated your mind. All you could focus on was him. You stared dead ahead, forgetting professionalism until your sense of self caught you and you scanned the remainder of where the council would sit.
A voice from somewhere else in the darkness replied, “If Viktor believes in the concept, I can’t see why any of us would be able to add value to his support. We give permission for further research to go ahead. Thank you for your time”.
You felt the heavy relief, you had succeeded. You had the councils permission and all the doors it unlocked in its authoritative weight, but your nerves weren’t calmed. Something else had been unlocked. A door had been opened, and you weren’t sure you could shut it again.
Viktor emerged fully from the darkness of the meeting hall. “Ill handle this from here on out”. He stated, closing the distance between you both. He swept his arm behind your back, guiding you around and back to the exit.
“You did brilliantly”. He smiled proudly. “You work is quite something, but your confidence? It’s otherworldly! Can I ask? Did you intend to stare so intensely into my eyes the whole time, or have I been blessed by coincidence?”
Viktor being so upfront and open with you was unexpected, and your face flushed again. You were absolutely not going to be truthful and tell him that it was a coincidence. In the time it had taken you to present your concept, something had linked the both of you together, and that could never be coincidental. You were now at a loss of what to say. The only option you had was to tell him directly.
“Viktor, would you like to help me develop my project further?”
#arcane#fanfic#league of legends#self insert#viktor league of legends#viktor#viktor x reader#viktor x you
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Drunk Silco, Viktor Headcanons
Request: “hcs for how silco & viktor act drunk?👀”
While sober Silco is still passionate about everything he cares about, whether it be his work to gain control and independence for Zaun or his beloved partner, he’s still quite stiff and cold about it
Not that he doesn’t want to be openly passionate, he just shows it in a different way than most people
From an outsider’s perspective he may even seem dismissive of his partner, though in actuality he’s the farthest from it
He just shows his care and affection in his own way that might only make sense to him and his partner
However
When he’s drunk, any sense of restraint or decorum just escapes him
He becomes so openly affectionate towards his partner than it’s almost sickeningly sweet
Drunk Silco gives Gomez Addams vibes
Passionate, Affectionate, traditionally romantic
openly simping for his partner
will spontaneously pull you into him and kiss up your arm while telling you how you take his breath away before wanting you to dance with him
surprisingly good at dancing too despite being completely wasted
Silco can never focus on work after he’s been drinking, because he just doesn’t want to
He wants to have you in his arms, his fingers in your hair, and your arms around his torso
You’re already on his mind 24/7 but when he’s drunk he can’t resist the urge to focus solely on you anymore
Silco knows how sentimental he gets when he drinks a lot so he doesn’t have more than a drink or two unless you two are completely alone
It’s not that he’s ashamed of his feelings for you, he just prefers to keep that side of him reserved for you and you alone
He’s so rigid when sober, pls just let him cling to you while he’s drunk bc you’re all he can think about
Viktor actually finds drinking to be pretty enjoyable
he doesn’t overdo it or anything, just enough to lessen his chronic pain
he wants to be responsible with it of course, and he also finds that drinking too much stops him from being able to competently work
he doesn’t get fully drunk very often, usually just a bit tipsy
but when he does get drunk, he becomes an absolute puppy of a man
Viktor is affectionate in general, not having any reserves when it comes to wrapping an arm around your waist or giving you a soft forehead kiss
so when he’s actually drunk he’s all over you
he not only wants to endlessly express how much he adores you, he wants your constant reassurance and praise of how much you love him too
almost always ends up lying with his head in your lap, looking up at you with these lovesick puppy eyes that are only ever given to you
please play with his hair or caress his cheek while he does, it’ll make him openly giddy
on a different note though, Viktor has a tendency to get a bit chaotic as well
he’ll have all of these ‘scientific breakthroughs’ and ‘brilliant discoveries’ that are actually him just explaining already understood scientific concepts
he’s frantically scribbling something on a chalkboard while babbling
“so what if instead of being an invisible force, it’s actually a bending of space, that’s why bigger objects have a greater pull- this is incredible, this could change everything!”
“Baby, that’s just the Theory of Relativity. Einstein already proposed that.”
“… what?”
“You’re very smart for coming to that conclusion on your own though!”
just support him, he’ll figure things out i swear
he really is a genius, just
not so much when he’s drunk
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viktor is a cat, no i do not take criticism
you're right and you should say it.
The Likeness Of Men And Cats [Oneshot]
Pairing: Viktor x Reader
Rating: T
Proofread: no beta we die like men
Synopsis: You acquire a cat for the first time, and make a startling connection between it and your best friend, Viktor. Of course, you now have to test your theory: is the man you're crushing on actually several cats in a trenchcoat?
You’ve worked with Viktor for years. Six years, in fact, if you started all the way back in your first year at the academy.
You hadn’t had much interest in him, then. He was just another face in the crowded classroom, just another hand that got raised whenever your professors asked a question. He was smart, sure, but no more than some of the other people in your peer group.
Only once you’d been assigned to a group project did you really start getting to know him - and his less than stellar reputation around campus.
Your friends had all given you their condolences when you’d told them who you’d be working with for the semester, each of them sprouting off some story or another about an interaction they’d had with this Viktor.
And the more you got to know him, the more you realized their stories were true.
He was blunt, and logical to a fault. He refused to take breaks, for either his or your sake - even when you’d been about to pass out from sleep deprivation, he’d merely sighed and told you to sleep, then, if you need it. He frustrated you to no end.
And the more you got to know him, the more you realized your friends’ tales were…wrong.
You had hardly wanted bad blood between you and the man you were supposed to be working with for the whole semester, so you’d stuck it out. You’d been friendly, made yourself approachable, listened to him when he spoke and tried to include him in conversations.
And eventually he opened up.
Shared little jokes with you, brought little snacks to your study sessions so you wouldn’t go hungry. He showed a profound sense of compassion, the deeper your chats got, and a truly spectacular desire to change the world for the better.
It only made sense that you’d fall in love with him. Stupidly, terribly in love.
Even now, years after you’d graduated and moved onto your own projects, you still got heart palpitations whenever you spent time with him. Which happened to be most days, what with your work coinciding so closely. You’re certain that one of these days, the persistent thrum in your chest is simply going to stop, and you’re going to perish.
All because of him, and his stupid handsome face, and his stupid beautiful brain.
And it’s not like you hadn’t tried to tell him how you felt! You’re not the kind of person to just stand there stewing in your feelings for years without trying to resolve them!
He was just…not interested. You dropped hint after hint after hint, suggesting you spend time together to catch up, or maybe go out to lunch, or even dinner. You’d flirted with him so openly that even Jayce was cringing from your efforts!
But he never reciprocated.
Jayce had tried to comfort you one evening, after a particularly rough afternoon of thirsting after your best friend. He probably just doesn’t realize you’re trying to uhh…woo him, he’d said, in a vain attempt at calming your roiling emotions.
Didn’t realize. Right.
You’d been heartbroken for so long after being rejected by Viktor, lost in thought and unable to effectively work. Making excuse after excuse as to why you were ‘out of sorts’ and ‘not feeling well’.
That is…until now.
Three weeks ago, you’d…come into the possession of a soft, fuzzy creature. Or she’d come into possession of you?
Either way, you’d found a cat. Skinny, mottled black and white, covered in fleas - she’d woken you up in the middle of a fateful night, screaming haplessly from your balcony where she’d gotten stuck. The moment you opened the sliding door, she’d run inside and had since refused to leave.
It had been hectic in the first couple days, particularly when you were trying to get her into the bath to remove all the built up dirt and dust from her fur. But you’d gotten her settled eventually, and since then she’s become a staple in your everyday routine.
It had taken you a while to really notice the patterns in her behavior, and to connect the dots.
Your cat behaved an awful lot like Viktor.
Rather, Viktor behaved an awful lot like a cat.
Bringing you little gifts for no apparent reason, typically in the form of snacks or trinkets. Preferring to sit in the same place as you and work separately, as opposed to actively engaging in conversation. Only showing you his softer side once he knew he could trust you. Even the few times he touched you, he did so in the most unusual way you’d ever seen - running a hand down your arm, or your back.
Not unlike a cat brushing up against its companion.
Looking back, knowing what you know now, you feel…stupid. For disregarding the man you loved so easily, for not clueing into his way of expressing love.
Because of course he loved you!
…probably.
Maybe.
…you need to test your theory.
—
The next day is when you begin Phase One of your plan.
You spent the entire night working on a detailed month-long set of experiments, subtle enough that Viktor wouldn’t think your actions were too weird or out of the blue. In the event that you were wrong in your hypothesis, you would be able to chalk your behaviour up to…
…to…
…wanting to switch things up a bit?
So, truthfully, you hadn’t really thought much about it at all. You’d actually fallen asleep with your face smashed into your desk around ten in the evening, and by the time your alarm had started blaring, you had to scramble to make sense of what little you’d scribbled down.
“Good afternoon, my brilliant men of science!” you cheer, skipping into the lab in your typical loud fashion, your arms full with a large cardboard box that had steam wafting from between its creases.
Viktor hums a quiet greeting from across the room, barely paying you any mind as he continues to focus on his current project.
Jayce, on the other hand, looks over the moment you set foot in the room, making a beeline towards you when he sees you struggling with your parcel.
“What’s in the box?” he wonders, watching over your shoulder as you set it out on one of the free desks, and begin to unfold the flaps.
“Lunch!” you reply, finally revealing a bunch of smaller boxes packed tightly within. “I know you two don’t always have time to run out to grab something to eat, so I thought I’d do it for you. It’s important to keep your energy up when you’re using your brains so much.”
Jayce wastes no time in helping you unpack everything you’d brought, opening up each little package to discover the treasures that lay inside. It’s mostly foods that you know Viktor likes - a couple of baked goods, some potato dumplings, a thermos of root stew, some little swirly breads.
In no time, he’s fixed himself a plate and gone back to his own workplace, leaving you to stand alone by the feast.
Looking at Viktor.
Who was looking at you.
Looking at you with the most suspicion you’ve ever seen him wear, with his eyes narrowed in thought and his shoulders held tight and square.
“Why?” he asks, glancing between you and the food.
“What do you mean, why?”
His brows pull together slightly, adding to the absolute absurdity of his expression.
“What’s the catch?” he reiterates, finally rising from his seat to slink towards you. “You never bring us lunch. Ever. What’s the occasion?”
You shrug nonchalantly.
“Why would I need a reason to be nice?” you ask. You supposed you could just tell him what you were up to - you doubt he’d be upset with you if you did. He’d probably just be curious about your theory.
The only issue was that if he knew, it might skew your data. If he knew what you were looking for, he might try to react in a way that he thought you’d like - or in a way that would purposefully fuck with you.
No, it would be better if you didn’t tell him. At least not yet.
“V, I’m all for asking questions, but please stop trying to dissect a good thing?” Jayce pleads from the other side of the room, casting over his best impression of a kicked puppy.
You’re pretty sure he knows what you’re up to.
Viktor, in any case, appears to be momentarily placated by your explanation, poor as it was. You know that he’s going to wonder about it eventually, but for now you’ve got time. You’ve got time to sit and eat lunch with your two best friends, and hopefully think up some better excuses.
—
You continue bringing the two of them lunch for the next week. Jayce remains completely unbothered by the situation, and even offers to help once you tell him what your master plan is.
He knows how down bad you are for your friend, and you’re certain that he’s fully sick of listening to you lament about how pretty he is and how badly your heart aches.
Viktor hasn’t mentioned anything since the first day of your new routine, either, but you can tell he’s just as suspicious as he was at the start. His gaze is always sharp when you clatter into the room with another box of food, watching intently while you unpack, remaining trained on you while he makes his way over to hesitantly scoop some up for himself.
Almost like he’s waiting for some kind of reaction out of you.
But you give him nothing, no hints as to what your plan is. You wait patiently while he fixes himself a plate, asking him how his day has been or perhaps about what he’s working on, smiling softly all the while.
It’s exactly one week to the day when you burst into the lab again, followed closely by your loud and raucous announcement of your presence, only to be met with silence.
“I’m afraid Jayce isn’t here today,” Viktor sighs from behind a stack of notebooks, not even bothering to turn his attention away from the formulas he’s copying down.
You, however, are undeterred, continuing your trail into the room, over to your usual table where you are about to begin Phase Two of testing your theory.
“I know,” you reply, setting your things down. “He said he had a thing with Mel today - and a busy week, too.”
You can see from the corner of your eye as your friend finally turns away from his work.
“You knew he wouldn’t be here?” he wonders, utterly perplexed. When you hum your confirmation, he continues, “Then why did you bother coming?”
That alone is enough to give you pause, glancing towards him in confusion.
“Why wouldn’t I?” you ask.
You stare at each other for a couple of seconds, before he shrugs and makes a noncommittal grumble, turning back to his papers.
He…thought you wouldn’t come? If it was just him, he thought…you wouldn’t even bother showing up. As if he wasn’t your best friend, and the love of your life, and the brightest part of your day? Like he couldn’t possibly be the reason for your kindness?
Your heart clenches.
In silence, you fix him a plate of the little foods you know he’ll like; you’d gone out of your way to pick out a couple of his favourites today, having suspected that he might be difficult to persuade without Jayce nearby to bully him into eating.
“Here,” you tell him, softly, setting the plate on the desk beside him. You set your hand on his shoulder for a brief moment, letting your fingertips wander down his arm, and then turn away to head back to your own work.
Knowing Viktor, he’d prefer the silence over active conversation. It was easier for him when the other half of HexTech was around to act as a buffer and keep your endless desire to talk entertained. But today, when it’s just the two of you? You know you’ve overstepped your bounds in the past, pushing him into a state of discomfort with your constant chattering.
But not today.
Today, you’ve brought your own work with you, fully intent on sitting quietly with your best friend while you both eat your meals. You had the entire hour to catch up on grading your students’ tests - grades they’d been hassling you about for a while now.
It’s a little bit uncomfortable at first, to not talk while you know he’s nearby. There are things from your day that you want to share with him - something funny that one of your first-years said to you, the gossip you’ve heard about other faculty members.
But you resist.
Viktor, on the other hand, only makes it about ten minutes.
All at once, the incessant scribbling of his pen stops, followed by a deep sigh, and the quiet clatter of the utensil being set down. A creak in his chair, as he turns towards you.
“Have I done something to offend you?” he inquires, bluntly, as usual.
You glance up from your pile of papers with wide eyes, surprised by the suddenness of his question.
“No?” you reply, “Why would you think that?”
He sighs again, his gaze wandering away from yours and down to the floor. He looks hesitant, the same sort of hesitant that he’d been when taking the food you offered to him: like he was waiting for something to happen.
Like he was waiting for you to…to announce that you were playing some kind of absurd prank-
Oh.
“You’ve hardly said a word to me today,” he mumbles, crossing his arms on the back of his chair so he can rest his head between them.
“But…you like the quiet?” you reply, far more meek than you’d intended to be. Had he been taking your entire experiment as some kind of mean joke on him? Had he already known that he was reminiscent of a cat? Did he think you were making fun of him for it?
“Yes!” he retorts quickly, running a hand through his already-mussed hair. “But you’re always talking! To me, to Jayce - about your students, or some shitty scholarly article you read! You’ve been acting strange for the entire week. First the food, and now this - are you okay? Are you-”
“Viktor, breathe!” you squeak.
The moment you see the worry in his eyes, you jump to your feet and make your way over to him. Taking his face in your heads, despite your better judgment or regard to the rules of your plan. Stroking your thumbs slowly over the curve of his cheeks, holding him close while he forced himself to relax and slow his breathing.
You’ve never seen him so outwardly worried about you.
“Look,” you murmur, “I just…I care about you. A lot. And I feel like sometimes I…do a pretty shitty job of showing it.”
Slowly, you let your hands slide down to rest atop his shoulders.
“I’m always after you to take better care of yourself, but I never actually do anything to help. And - and I always push conversations on you, even though I know you’d rather work on your own projects.”
With a dejected sigh, you remove your hands from him completely, “Even now. My first instinct when trying to comfort you is to touch you, even though I know you don’t really like it.”
Idly, you fiddle with the edges of your sleeves.
“I just want to make you happy, but…I know I can be annoying, sometimes. I’m sorry.”
The air is thick between the two of you after that. You can’t for the life of you figure out what else you should say, if anything - you can’t even bring yourself to look him in the eye. Instead, you turn on your heel and wobble back to your seat, trying your hardest to keep the hot sting of tears from reaching your eyes.
You feel like an idiot.
Your entire plan was stupid, and your theory was stupid, and wanting to test it? Stupid!
So caught up in your own thoughts, you don’t even notice the sound of a chair being dragged across the room, over to where you sit. Only when Viktor shoves it right up beside you and plops down nearly in your lap do you jostle out of your own head.
Staring up at him with wide eyes.
“You think you’re annoying?” he asks, nearly incredulous. “I never have anything to contribute to your conversations - never have any stories or adventures of my own to share. You have to carry all our interactions! And you…think you’re annoying?”
You scoff softly. “I mean, most of my other colleagues tolerate me, and only barely. Do you know how many break room conversations I’ve accidentally overheard about me?”
He grumbles a bit, letting his head roll sideways to carefully knock against the curve of your shoulder.
“This isn’t about them,” he insists. “You’re not annoying. I enjoy listening to you talk - you always have interesting perspectives on subjects that I rarely consider.”
He tilts his face up, then, staring up at you from mere inches away with a sort of intensity that makes your cheeks nearly catch fire.
“And I also like it when you remind me to take a break. You know how I am about keeping track of time - if there isn’t an alarm, I’ll sit and work until I pass out.”
Slowly, oh so slowly, you lean towards him. Gently, tenderly, with an affection that makes your chest ache - you bonk your forehead against his, the barest of touches, but the most intimate you’ve ever been with him.
And all at once, his face lights up into a bright, rosy hue.
Much like how you had connected the dots a week ago, all the pieces fall into place in his mind. One by one, clicking together to form an entire beautiful picture: a story of your friendship, finally understanding.
“You…” he begins, trailing off as he tilts his head up by a fraction, drawing you into a kiss you’ve both been waiting years for.
#viktor x reader#viktor arcane x reader#arcane x reader#viktor fluff#arcane fluff#viktor reader insert#see mom i cant possibly in a depressive episode i wrote THIS#arcane reader insert
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Your World or Mine [Part 5] [Viktor x Reader]
I hope you enjoy the final part! It was fun to write, but I don’t know if I’ll be doing any more multipart fics for awhile. I have a terrible time remembering what I’ve written and it makes it hard to make sure I’m keeping things consistent. Well, happy reading!
Synopsis: You get accidentally teleported to Piltover from Earth. The Hextech scientists try their best to get you back home.
Warnings: None
[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5]
You had told your family what had happened to you, leaving out any of your feelings for a certain scientist of course, and they shockingly believed you. But it had been two months since then and they were beginning to wonder when you were going to get your life back on track. The problem was you didn’t want to go back to your old life. And how could you tell your family what you really wanted. They wouldn’t understand.
If you had been given a choice you would have stayed in Piltover. You would have confessed your feelings for Viktor, and if he had reciprocated them like you had the sneaking suspicion he would, you would have gladly made a life with him. And even if he didn’t feel the same, you would have been content just being his friend and starting your own life there. Still, after all this time you hope that it wasn’t too late to tell him how you really felt.
While Viktor was doing alright when you left, you knew that his illness was fatal and had no idea how long he truly had left. Over the past months you had thought many times of how Earths technology may be able help him. The first time that thought crossed your mind it was enough to almost make you open a portal then and there. But Viktor had asked you to wait, and wait you did. Every moment of waiting was excruciating not just to your heart but also your mind.
You couldn’t stop thinking about your friends, that city, the magic Runeterra held, everything that was so much more exciting than Earth. You’d spent the past couple of weeks just staring at the pictures you took in Piltover. Rewatching the videos just you hear your friends voices, to hear his voice. What did he want to tell you that night you ran away? Would you ever get the chance to know? Absence makes the heart grow stronger they say, and to you that was most certainly true.
Finally you could wait no longer. “Another week.” you told yourself. “Just one more week and then I am going back!” Your decision was resolute. You’d get your affairs in order on Earth, bid goodbye to your friends and family with a promise to visit, but then you’d leave to start a new life in Piltover.
Your family wasn’t happy with your decision, but you didn’t care. It was your life after all. So when the week came and went you dawned the clothes you had worn on your return trip from Piltover and prepared to leave. You grabbed the portal gun from its hiding spot in your closet and placed the Hexgem in it. The runes carved into the metal began to glow a bright blue. With a deep breath of courage you pulled the trigger on the small gun and a portal opened in front of you. You eagerly ran through it, ready to embrace Viktor on the other side, but where you exited was far from what you expected.
You had run into an alley, the air was thick and a green haze covered the area. You coughed as your lungs adjusted to whatever substance filled the air. You definitely weren’t in Piltover. ‘Is this the Undercity?’ You thought to yourself.
“Hey Pilty, you on the wrong side of town?” A male voice rang out behind you, it was rough and definitely not one that you recognized. You turned around to be met with a large man, covered with tattoos and scars. Your heart pounded in terror at the sight of him. “Well?” The large man approached you.
“S-sorry. I don’t-“ you stammered and tightened your grip around the portal gun.
“Sorry!” He mocked you in a high pitched voice before dropping back into his normal register. “Sorry don’t cut it round here.” He grabbed your wrist and pulled you close, taking the portal gun from you. You could smell the alcohol on his breath as he spoke. “Saw you come out of that portal missy. What can you offer me so I don’t take this little gun off your hands?”
Tears welled in the corner of your eyes. “I- I don’t have any money.”
He looked you up and down before leaning in close to your face. “There are other ways to pay.” With his free hand he pulled you in by the waist.
“Please…Don’t do this!” You begged
“You think begging will do anything.” He laughed. “Boys!” He shouted and several other men came out of the shadows. “I think our little guest here needs to loosen up a bit.” He pushed you towards his goons and smiled, showing his crooked teeth. They grabbed you from behind and you let out a shout.
You tried to scream more as they forced a mask over your face. It released some sort of pink substance into your lungs. You attempted to struggle against them and free yourself, but your body started to weaken. You could feel your mind going numb. Once you stopped fighting, the men released you and took the mask off. You found it hard to think and a calm wave spread over you. Whatever was in your system made you feel buzzed, almost like being drunk.
“Now girlie,” the large leader approached you again. He stroked your cheek with his rough hand. “What can you do to pay me?”
Your eyes focused on something behind him and you giggled. “There’s a robot guy behind you.”
“What?” His voice held a hint of aggravation alongside his general confusion. He turned around just in time for the metal man to punch him square in the jaw.
“It’s the Machine Herald!” One of the goons yelled. He comically grabbed his friend by the shirt and continued to shout. “I knew it was a bad idea to come to Emberflit Alley!”
“Let’s get out of here!” His friend shouted back. He and the gang took off, dragging their now unconscious leader with them.
You laughed at their reactions and stumbled backwards in a drunken state. You found yourself falling into the metal chest of the man who just saved you. “Thanks Mr. Robotman.” You giggled and gave his chest a few pats.
He grabbed your shoulders and held you at arms length. You spotted the third hand sticking out of his shoulder and it gave you an idea. You held up your own hand and giddily shouted, “High five!”
“What are you doing?” An accented voice asked.
“It’s like this.” You took one of his hands and lightly tapped it against your own. “A high five! For a good job!”
His hand lightly grabbed your wrist and gently lowered it to your side. “No, what are you doing here?”
You looked up at him with a dumb smile plastered onto your face. “Looking for my friend.” You suddenly gasped loudly and it caused the machine herald to take a step back. “Have you seen him Mr. Robot? His names Viktor. He has soft brown hair, pretty gold eyes, and the handsomest face I’ve ever seen!” You leaned into the metal man, your forehead touching his chest, and continue to spill your guts without a care in the world. “When I left he was real sick. He could be hurt down here! And I need to find him cause if he’s hurt I don’t know what I’ll do.” You look up to the masked man with big doe eyes. “Ya see, I love him Mr. Robot and I didn’t get to tell him before I left”
His hands hovered over your shoulders for a moment and the eyes on his mask widened with your words. He suddenly scooped you into his arms.
“Hey! Put me down! I need to find Viktor!” You yelled and lightly pounded on his chest. He looked at you inquisitively.
“Stop that.” He said. It only took about a minute of hassling him to put you down before you tired yourself out and gave up. Once you were still, the Machine Herald turned and walked to the wrought iron gates in front of the house he had come out of.
“Where are we going?” You asked, seemingly forgetting your task to find Viktor.
“Home.” He said as he pushed open the gates with his third arm. They slammed behind the two of you, causing a small yelp to come out of your throat at the sound. “Sorry.” The metal man murmured. You stayed silent after that as you were taken up the steps to the front door, which had been left open.
“Father unit, did you get rid of the distraction?” A large yellow robot said when you both crossed the threshold into what looked more like a laboratory than a living room. You let out another yelp and buried your head into the Machine Heralds chest. The yellow robot cocked its head to the side “Who is this?” They asked.
The metal man held you closer to him. “Don’t be afraid, this is Blitzcrank. He won’t hurt you.” You peeked your head out to look at the large robot. “This is Y/N.” You couldn’t recall ever giving this stranger your name, but decided to pay the thought no mind.
Blitzcrank held out a large hand to you. “Hello miss Y/N.”
You gingerly took their hand and gave it a small shake. “Hi” you quietly responded.
“She was drugged with a gaseous version of Shimmer.” The metal man explained to Blitzcrank as he walked past them and took you upstairs. “I am going to have her rest. Get her a glass of water.”
You felt yourself nodding off in his arms with every step he took up the stairs. Your eyes could barely stay open by the time you had reached the top.
The curtains on the window were pulled tightly closed in the room you entered, enveloping it in darkness. With a flick of a light switch on the wall an overhead light began to dimly glow. You were brought over to the bed in the middle of the room. The metal man tried to put you down but you kept your arms around his neck, pulling him down with you. “I need to find Viktor.” You groggily said.
“Please let go of me.” He whispered.
Your arms raised higher until they allowed access to his hair. Running your fingers through his brown locks you hooked your hands around what turned out to be the back of his mask. You gently pulled it off of his head and held the mask in your hands. When you looked up you saw him. The sharp cheekbones on his slender face now accentuated with metal, the beauty marks just below one eye and above his soft lips, and his glowing golden eyes… they were still same golden eyes that held your attention whenever he had looked at you in the past. Your eyes widened and a large grin spread on your lips. “I found you!” You laughed and leaned up to try and hug him. He took your shoulders and pushed you back into the bed.
He took his mask back from you and placed it in the nightstand beside the bed. You kept fidgeting and trying to get up, but Viktor took the blankets from the bed and placed them on top of you. He forced you to lay down once more and stroked your head with his metal hand. “Sleep Y/N.”
“No! I have to tell you something!” You whined and reached out for him when he grabbed his mask.
“You can tell me when your head is clear.” He walked towards the door.
“No!” You whined again. “Viktor! Please!” Viktor turned off the light and continued outside of the room. “I love you!” You shouted as he closed the door behind him.
Viktor was glad that he wasn’t in the room because his face turned completely red at your confession. You may have been drugged but those feeling still seemed pretty genuine to him.
“Is something wrong father?” Blitzcranks voice cut through Viktors thoughts. “Your face is all red.”
Viktor cleared his throat. “I am fine.” He glanced at Blitzcranks giant fist delicately holding a glass of water. “Place it at her bedside. She’ll want it when she wakes up.”
**************************
You woke up with a throbbing headache and only vague memories of what had happened. Going through the portal and finding yourself in the Undercity, you were attacked and drugged… you vaguely remember someone saving you… then it went black. You groaned and leaned up. That’s when you saw it, two glowing eyes staring back at you. You shouted and the lights of the room clicked on.
“I’m sorry miss Y/N, I did not mean to scare you. Father asked that I watch over you.” The large robot said.
You pulled the blankets tightly in front of you as if they would shield you from any harm. “Who are you?” Your voice was scratchy and your throat was dry.
“You don’t remember? I am Blitzcrank.” The yellow robot slowly walked towards you. They extended a hand for you to shake.
“Right.” You shook the hand tentatively.
“I brought you water.” They gestured to the glass on the side table.
You slowly took it and awkwardly took a sip while Blitzcrank stared at you. “So who is this “father” that you mentioned?” Your mind was still hazy thanks to the Shimmer, but you felt like whoever he was might be the man that saved you.
“The people of Zaun call him the Machine Herald.”
“And you call him?”
“Father Unit.”
“No, I mean his name.” You laughed
“It’s Viktor.” His voice rang out from the doorway. “But you already know that.” He nodded at Blitzcrank, who took the motion as an order to leave the room. You stared at Viktor as he approached the bed. He was so different, yet was the same man you knew. “How are you feeling?”
Your headache had faded and now all that remained were questions. “I-I’m fine. But I just, I have so many questions. What happened while I was gone? Why are you back in the Undercity? And you- you look so different…”
Viktor turned his gaze from you. “I am aware that I may no longer be pleasant to look at.”
“No! Viktor! You look sick!” You spoke with excitement but Viktor turned to you with an extremely concerned look. “Sorry, wrong choice of slang. I meant it like, you look awesome, cool… rad?” You listed off several synonyms to hopefully clear up his confusion.
Viktor smiled, for the first time in awhile. “Then my new appearance does not change your feelings of me?”
“My feelings?” You had conveniently forgotten confessing your love several times during your drugged state.
“Yes?” Viktor was confused “Do you not recall?”
“Recall what exactly?” You laughed nervously.
Viktor cleared his throat and glanced anywhere but directly at you. “You said you loved me.”
Your face lit up bright red and your heart began to pound. “I did what?!” You groaned and pulled the blanket up over yourself in embarrassment.
Viktor looked at you with sad eyes, something that did not particularly suit his robotic body. “You did not mean it?”
You waited so long to answer that Viktor assumed the worst, but when you heard the floorboard creak with one of his steps towards the door you piped up from under the blanket. “I did mean it.” Your voice was quiet, but Viktor still heard you. You felt him sit on the edge of the bed, but you dared not remove the blanket from your face. “I didn’t want to tell you like that. I kinda would’ve liked to remember it.”
Viktor hummed in response. “Perhaps you could tell me now then? If you’d like to come out from under the blanket.”
You peeked your head out and looked up at him with large doe-like eyes. Viktors heart practically melted to see you like that, it made him glad that he did not replace that part of himself after all. “Viktor…” Your heart was pounding so hard that you thought Viktor could hear it from where he sat.
“Yes?” He leaned his face closer to yours.
“I love you.” you whispered the words.
He cupped your face with his hands. The cold metal made you flinch. “Sorry.” he whispered, leaning ever closer, you could feel his breath on your face. He closed the gap between you and his lips met yours for a short kiss. “I love you too.” He replied when you pulled apart. You were so giddy that you couldn’t stop smiling, neither of you could. “Did you really risk coming here to tell me? Not that I am not extremely grateful, but it was awfully dangerous”
“I didn’t know I’d end up in the Undercity!” You defended yourself with a laugh. “I just, ugh, I’ve felt this way for so long but couldn’t bring myself to say anything. Then I went home, and I felt so bad that I missed the chance. I waited like your note asked me to, but I couldn’t stand waiting any longer!” You looked at him with compassion as you continued to sputter out your feelings. “I came to find you, not only to confess my feelings, but also because I was hoping that I could help you. Maybe find a way to save you from your illness.” You let your eyes trail over his form, completely enhanced by metal. There was not a hint of his previous condition present. “Clearly you don’t need my help for that though.” you muttered.
Viktor lightly chuckled at your comment. “What were you planning to do to help me?”
You ran your hands through your hair and let them fall back into your lap as you deeply sighed. “I’m not really sure. I was hoping if you came back to my world then maybe our medical science could help you.”
“That seems like it would have been a good plan.”
You leaned into Viktors side. “What happened Viktor? Why are you living down here? Not that there’s anything wrong with being in the Undercity. I just sort of expected the Hextech lab when I came through the portal”
His eyes turned downcast at the thought. “The Hexcore happened. It started to change me. And after an attack on the council, during a meeting I was unfortunately present at, it was the only thing that could save my life. Unfortunately it came with a price that Jayce did not approve of.”
“So you left because of Jayce?”
“It was a pretty bad argument. Don’t hold it against him though. We just have different views it would seem.”
“Sometimes that happens with friends, you just drift apart.” You sighed and smiled at Viktor, taking his hand in your own. Your eyes trailed along his hand, examining it. “So… how much of this is armor and how much is your real body now?”
“It is a pretty even mix of both. I have been augmenting my body to be as efficient as possible.” He placed his free hand on the one you were holding. “My hands are just armor.” You removed your grip on him and allowed him to remove the gauntlet from his hands. Underneath they were purple, resembling the muscles and tendons that would be under the skin. You took his hands back in yours to examine them. Although they looked organic his hands felt like metal.
“This is what the Hexcore did to you?” You asked.
“Yes.” He watched your curious eyes as they examined his hands and he smiled at the feeling of your touch. It had been far too long since he’d had any contact with another human being.
“And you can still feel beneath all that metal?” Your eyes never trailed from his hands. In fact they followed your own hands tracing gentle touches over Viktors.
“I can feel your touch, yes.” His eyes flicked away for a moment and you felt him tense up.
Your eyes looked towards his face. It looked like he was in pain. “What’s wrong?”
“Before you came back… I debated getting rid of my emotions all together. It would have provided me a clearer outlook and more focused mind.” He didn’t want to see how you reacted to his confession. He heard you mutter his name with concern. “I am glad I decided against it.” He stood up from the bed and walked towards the door. “Meet me downstairs when you’re ready. I will make us something to eat.”
You didn’t get a chance to respond, still processing your conversation. You collected your thoughts and pulled the blanket off of you. Standing up was rough as it seemed your legs were still a bit wobbly from the Shimmer. It took a minute to steady yourself, but you grabbed the armor that Viktor had left on the bedside table and proceeded to the door.
Walking down the stairs was an even more daunting task. You gripped the railing hard and took the steps very slowly. Once at the bottom you did your best to muster up an air of confidence before you entered what looked like the kitchen.
“You left this upstairs.” You said and tossed the gauntlet onto the table.
“Thank you.” Viktor didn’t look at you. He continued to cook, aided by the third arm he had now attached to his shoulder. It was shooting a small laser into the skillet to heat up whatever he was cooking.
“Did you have that on display in the lab? I feel like I remember seeing something like it in there.” You asked and leaned onto the counter next to Viktor.
“Yes, it is a version of what Jayce and I called the HexClaw.” His short answer left you feeling confused. Viktor was never the type to talk a lot, unless it was about his work, but it made you feel like he was trying to distance himself. Strange considering he just told you that he loved you too.
“You know I don’t think any less of you right?” Your eyes glanced towards the skillet and then up to Viktor. He stayed silent. “I am glad that you’re ok. And no matter what you look like, I’ll still love you.” The word love held a strange tingle on your tongue. You’d never thought that you’d be using it so freely, but it was nice. “And even if… even if you had decided to get rid of your emotions…” Viktor tensed up while he waited for your to finish your thought. “I would stand by you. And I would be happy just being here, at your side, supporting you.” He turned to look at you with wide eyes. They looked almost of the verge of tears. You gave him a soft smile, but then your face contorted when you smelled smoke. “Viktor!” You shouted when you looked at the skillet and saw the eggs he had been cooking begin to burn. He gave a small shout and tried to fix the problem before he could make it any worse.
So your meal ended up being a little burnt, but it was still delicious. “I apologize for burning your breakfast.” Viktor said after taking his last bite.
“Believe it or not, I’ve had worse.” You joked with him.
“I would also like to apologize for making things awkward earlier. It was not my intention.”
“It’s alright, these things happen. We got it all cleared up anyway.” You leaned back in the kitchen chair and crossed your arms over your chest. “So, you have a child now?”
Viktor practically spit out the sweet milk he was drinking. “You mean Blitzcrank? I designed them to help dispose of hazardous waste, but they have gained sentience of their own. I did not ask them to call me father, it just sort of happened.”
“How sweet.” You laughed. “Well they seem to be very well behaved. You raised them well.” Viktor could tell you were mocking him, but your words also held some sincerity to them.
“Yes, well in any case, there is something I think we need to discuss.” Viktors tone became serious.
“Oh? What is it?”
Viktor walked into the other room for a moment and came back with the portal gun. “We cannot ignore the fact that you are from another world.”
“Right… that…” your eyes trailed down to the table.
Viktor sat across from you and placed a hand on your own. “I love you Y/N. And as much as I would like you to stay and to be with you, there is a choice to be made.”
“I know…” you looked up at Viktor.
“I cannot promise that Runeterra is a safe world, but I can promise to protect you.” This time you did look at him.
“Viktor, I never wanted to leave in the first place. If not for the two of you telling me to go I would have made the choice to stay a long time ago.”
“So that means…”
“My choice is to stay here. With you.” You smiled warmly at him.
Slowly Viktors mouth spread into a wide grin. He stood up and crossed over to you. His metal hands cupped your cheeks and he leaned down to your level. He gave you a gentle kiss on your lips before taking you by the hands. “Come with me.”
Viktor led you into his lab and over to his desk. He pulled out a worn leather bound journal. “This was the journal I was using when you first arrived in Piltover.” He opened it to the middle of the book and to your surprise there laid the portrait you had drawn for him.
“You kept it?” You murmured.
“Of course! It has been my most prized possession since you gave it to me.” He looked a bit shocked that you’d even ask. “Y/N, do you want to know what I was going to tell you that night?”
“Actually that’s been on my mind for quite some time. But why not tell me when I asked before?”
“If I had told you before I was afraid you would have refused to leave. And I couldn’t bear to have you in danger” He placed the journal onto his desk and took one of your hands in his. “I wanted to tell you that I had fallen in love with you. That I didn’t want you to leave, as selfish as that was.”
You lightly chuckled at just how correct he was. “You’re right, I would’ve stayed if you had told me.” You looked up into his glowing golden eyes. “I honestly don’t know why I ran from you that night. Nerves I suppose. I’ve never really loved anyone before… let alone had that love reciprocated.”
Viktor brought his hands around you and pulled you into a tight embrace. He rested his chin against the top of your head. “You’ll never have to run from me again.” He placed a quick kiss on your head before whispering to you. “I love you, Y/N. And I always will”
#viktor x reader#viktor x y/n#viktor reader insert#arcane x reader#arcane reader insert#arcane fanfic#arcane viktor
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Like Viktor treats Ivy as his daughter what if his partner treated Rocky as a son? Headcanons please
So I know Tracy confirmed that Viktor "couldn't be straighter", but I wrote this as GN just in case as the asker did not specify.
•"Rickaby? Nothing but trouble."
•That's one of Viktor's favourite replies when their partner speaks of Rocky. He obviously doesn't use the same tone or contempt when Ivy is mentioned, but there's a reason behind that.
•(Y/N hopes that she'll meet Alena one day, or at least find out more about her than just her name.)
•Until then, there's another youngster who needs their help: his name is Rocky Rickaby, he's twenty-three, he's been fiercely independent since he knew how to walk and he's—to put it bluntly—a professional maniac.
•To be fair, there are a few of them running around Lackadaisy nowadays. He fits right in.
•So why does Y/N feel so attached to Rocky in particular?
•Maybe it's because she sees everyone else the violinist looks up to cast him aside or brush him off, even if they don't do so out of nastiness. Maybe it's how she's the one who claps the hardest when he finishes a poem while everyone else continues with their conversations and barely glances his way.
•Maybe it was how she almost broke down when she saw him return to the speakeasy with a deep gnash straight down the middle of his forehead.
•Whatever the case, Y/N has made it their mission to be the one who cares.
•They make him daily batches of pancakes and waffles—his favourites—with the same domesticity as they would concoct a packed lunch for school.
•They purposely seek him out on breaks and encourages him to tell them more about their artistic ambitions, from stage showmanship to Shakespearian poetry.
•They routinely insist on tending to his wound themselves, because everyone else seems too scared to do so.
•Whether Rocky has noticed the parental protection he's been put under or not is debatable. Others, however, have very much indeed.
•"Vy do you like that kid so much?"
"I don't know, I just feel… something. Like he's a part of me. It's difficult to explain, but Rocky needs someone."
"Rocky has himself. It's enough."
"Not everyone's like you, honey."
Silence.
"Y/N—" Their name comes out with an edge to it.
"Viktor, please. People don't help each other out as often as they should, and Rocky needs mine."
•Of course, it's more than just help.
•There's no denying the swells of pride that rise within Y/N whenever Rocky finishes a poem, gets even the smallest amount of acclaim for a violin solo he wasn't sure would get a good reception, or comes back from a successful rum-run and gets a smile from Mitzi May.
•The nail on the coffin seems to be the small voice that once confidently yelled: "That's my son!" deep inside them.
•And you know what? Y/N couldn't have put it any better themselves.
#🦉mod iphiko#lackadaisy#headcanon#lackadaisy & reader#lackadaisy reader insert#rocky rickaby#viktor#viktor vasko#lackadaisy viktor#headcanon home brew
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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!
#fanfic february#fanfic february 2024#arcane#arcane 2021#arcane netflix#arcane viktor#viktor x reader#viktor x you#fem!reader#reader insert#reader insert fanfiction#reader insert fanfic#lemon#not suitable for minors#minors dni
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ASMR | Arcane - Viktor x Listener SFW Dressing Viktor Up For Halloween
[M4A] [Established relationship] [Romantic] [Kisses]
Last year I made a vampire Viktor audio and I have had some people to ask for more, so he's back this year, in a way... sort of. I thought this would be a fun idea, I hope you guys do too.
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Full spicy audios on sound gasm and Patreon.
Downloadable versions and exclusive spicy audios on Patreon.
I also stream on Twitch 3 times a week @ dervampireprince .
[minors + ageless blogs dni. this blog is for 18+ only.]
[do not repost/reupload/edit any of my content]
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