Jfjfkfkfk yeah, sorta ig. Some anxiety and depressive waves have been crashing down on me, but you know tropping on. Im sorry to keep you guys waiting, life has been hard: school, art school and such. I live near Ukraine (Lithuania to be exact), so the tension here has been rather yikes. I'll try to get back into the swing of things, and I just started writing pt 2 of chance, its going slowly, so you know:/
I am planning on writing chance pt. 2, but it might take some time. Not only because of the process of writing and editing, but in general life has been very anxiety inducing (I live in Lithuania, which is too close for comfort to the horrors happening in Ukraine) and my mental health is kinda wavering.
BUT it is on it's way. I've finished the outline of the story and will get to writing tomorrow or what not:)
Do you think you could write a continuation of the pregnancy thing? I gotta know if it ends happy, I'm kinda rooting for happy. Victor deserves happy :(
Oh man jfjfkf, I definitely have an idea on how things escalate, but it's kinda bittersweet, yknow? Idk I might write a second part since I have another request in my inbox about Viktor building toys for his kids and it just has the flavour of🥲
Viktor does deserve happiness and the reader tries to give him that, but they're just.... yknow....... self destructive like that💅No jk jk, but if I were to write a second part I doubt it would be the happy ending everyone is hoping for<3
Do you think you could write a continuation of the pregnancy thing? I gotta know if it ends happy, I'm kinda rooting for happy. Victor deserves happy :(
Oh man jfjfkf, I definitely have an idea on how things escalate, but it's kinda bittersweet, yknow? Idk I might write a second part since I have another request in my inbox about Viktor building toys for his kids and it just has the flavour of🥲
Viktor does deserve happiness and the reader tries to give him that, but they're just.... yknow....... self destructive like that💅No jk jk, but if I were to write a second part I doubt it would be the happy ending everyone is hoping for<3
Could you do a fanfic where reader and Viktor have a friends with benefits relationship and reader ends up pregnant please?
𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎
𝐕𝐢𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐱 !𝐀𝐅𝐀𝐁!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫
Word count: 5.6k
Summary: Cheating comes at a cost and you are left with the questions of what you are to do: be true or let the lying veil engulf you fully.
Warnings: allusion to domestic/emotional abuse, infidelity and cheating, mentions of abortion, self-degrading language, mentions of pregnancy, alcohol. This is very angst-heavy and deals with a lot of inner-turmoil. Please, if there is any doubt that you can safely read this, prioritize your mental wellness.
A/N: I don't know, I really wanted to right a morally grey reader, but I fear that they came off unlikable:(
`.*:･🌣ﾟ✧:*🌣✧*:･ﾟ*.`
The morning sun drifted through the large window, the little spots of light were playing around the room, jumping from the bottom of it to the top. Tall ceilings that were being held up by columns, bounced the sunlight back to the room, illuminating the rich azure fabric of the drapery, embroidery swirling down to the floor, sweeping back and forth from the gentle breeze. The light danced over the floor towards a king-sized bed that hid two lovers inside it, your bodies clad in nothing but marks from the blooming of last night.
You held your forehead close to Viktor, your noses touching as you were drinking in the presence of each other, basking in it for as long as you could before he has to depart your bed. Your hands were running through his hair, trying to memorize the way the brown curls weaved and fell, how the slip of it tickled your fingertips and how empty it felt after. You tried to commit to memory how the sunlight reached his eyes and it created patterns of the cosmos in them, the amber colour just as rich as the streaming sun.
Viktor’s palm was holding onto your cheek, feeling the suppleness of it against the hardened skin of his hand, small cuts from working in the lab all day littering his arms, a beauty mark here and there, contrasting his pale skin. His eyes were intently observing the all too familiar parts of your face: the soft arch of your brow, the angle at which your lashes curled, the way your eyes crinkled with your lips turning up to a delicate smile. Viktor wished for time to stop, to let him enjoy this selfish moment when all he had to be thinking was of him and you.
To be fair it wasn’t only his selfish wish, it was yours too; how couldn’t it be when it was the first time in a while you genuinely felt loved by another pair of hands – their caresses and strokes, though cold, warming your cheeks, pressing down on your shoulders, stroking over the swirls of your skin…
…selfish…
“How much time do we have?” Viktor’s accent whispered, his lips barely moving, like a sacred moment would be interrupted by speaking too loudly.
“Three hours,” you mumbled, trying to keep the smile on your face, but the serene twinkling in your eyes from moments ago morphed into the all too familiar sunken expression of helplessness, or was it hopelessness?
Viktor remembered the first couple times he saw you: it was usually at some sort of gala or party thrown by councilor Medarda in hopes to secure more patrons for HexTech. Viktor had never seen such disparity, the socialites crawling around the richest members of the party, praising everything their god did, chortled at every single stupid remark – like parasites. Viktor was disgusted, they had everything anyone would ever want and yet they were scrambling around as if their life depended on it – the event was oozing of deceit and lies. The inventor’s first thought of you was yet another pawn of the elite’s game, giggling at your so-called friends, involving yourself in mindless gossip, enjoying the luxuriousness of your imported fabrics. But the more his look would wander to you, he started noticing one deviation from the rest of the crowd: your melancholic eyes. The smile that everyone was able to fake in their gazes didn’t reach your own. The moment Viktor noticed such an oddity, he started paying attention to you, learning quite a bit of your party patterns: you would show up fashionably late, creating a rumble about what clothing you would be wearing, who you would spend the evening with, what you would be indulging in; stay for half an hour and then disappear for most of the night, before repapering back to the venue, most of the guest already in a drunken haze, easily charmed by your smile and anecdotes.
“Why can’t we have this?” Your voice broke, a tear welling up in the corners of your eyes. You knew, of course, you knew perfectly well why. After all, you were the one to remind Viktor of the reason – every time you put on the cold silver band on your ring finger in the public eye he would be reminded.
At first, it had been a marriage of love, a love that was born out of young, passionate, and rebellious hearts. Over the years it faded, the people in it changing and refusing to work on the feeble residues of a relationship – turning into resentment and infidelity before it ultimately made both you and him numb, indifferent.
You and Viktor had begun at one of those parties; you went out to take a breather from the suffocating atmosphere in the room, trying to relax and not let your tears fall: it was that evening that you received your confirmation that this marriage was doomed – his moans from your bedroom accompanied by shrieks of pleasure from his mistress. You weren’t a saint, letting yourself indulge in just as much pleasure-seeking as Xander did, but it hurt nonetheless, it hurt your pride, it shattered the mirror of lies in front of you, revealing the treacherous truth.
Viktor came out to the balcony coincidentally, the long-lasting sound of the party stabbing into his head that was already holding back the dam of his own thoughts. The man wasn’t expecting anyone there – rarely did anyone leave the fun, and if they did, they usually kept the entertainment back in the privacy of their chambers. What he was more surprised was you standing there, your exposed shoulders quivering. At first, Viktor thought, it was simply because of the cool breeze outside, but when he heard a choked-out sob, he couldn’t help himself but come closer.
Viktor nuzzled your cheek, sighing, “I wish it could be different, láska.” All you two could do was stay in each other’s arms, till cruel time caught up to you and Viktor would have to let the rightful man into his place. And if time would have been kinder, maybe Viktor would have met your earlier, could have swept you off your feet, marry you, love you properly, without needing to hide out of fear for losing everything he and Jayce had worked for, ruining your image in the public eye.
He was a stranger, you should have kept your mouth shut, if such rumors would be confirmed, it would be a scandal costing your family name thousands if not millions of supporters. But the way he looked at you, the way his entire demeanor seemed caring and gentle like he genuinely wanted to help, to find a way to change something…
The day after you blamed it all on the alcohol, it forced your common sense to fall asleep. For days you worried about seeing a headline in the newspapers, but it never came – maybe he actually cared? Or maybe he was waiting for the right time to ruin you, use you, blackmail you?
As a dutiful spouse in the spotlight, your responsibility was to choose who you would support: charities, cultural events and academic discoveries... When you first heard of HexTech you were worried – it was a bold idea and if it actually worked it would be phenomenal. But on the flip side, it could turn Piltover into a wasteland because of mismeasured wish to progress. You wanted to meet the inventors, wanted to know who they were; you had no doubt they were smart enough to push their research far, however, a heart that carries the sword will be the deciding factor to where the blade will cut – poverty and illness, or fortune and prosperity.
It seemed that coincidence was the leading force behind bringing you and Viktor close, accidentally noticing you, accidentally comforting you and accidentally stumbling upon one of the most promising findings in centuries that had you interested. When Viktor first saw you in the lab, Professor Heimerdinger by your side making light-hearted conversation, he didn’t know what to think. He wasn’t ignorant to the world surrounding him, he had heard your family’s name more than once in the academy’s halls: how the (L/n) family was so rich they could buy out the entire council, how their estate could form a country of its own – how their endorsement would mean everything for a scientist…
Jayce of course was as charming as ever, telling anecdotes and explaining their current research with simple terminology, while you quickly fell into the assigned role of an aristocrat, nodding your head along, laughing at his jokes… like a dutiful spouse.
…dutiful spouse…
The bed felt empty without him there, it seemed too big, too spacious – it wasn’t yours. You forced your body to turn around and snuggle closer into the pillow his head was formerly pressed into, inhaling the last bits of his wavering smell. Viktor never wore cologne, he deemed it unnecessary, however, there was always a very specific smell of lavender and linen lingering around him. You used to imagine how his home smelt like before you ever knew how the linen sheets felt against your cheek, how they scratched against your breasts with Viktor behind you, ramming all of his frustrations of an unsuccessful experiment away; before you ever knew how when you would be lying there, breathing heavily with Viktor’s fingers tangling with your own, you’d look to the side, where his dresser stood – a little bottle of dried lavenders. You fell asleep listening to Viktor’s voice lulling you with the properties of lavender’s, how they helped for insomnia and pains. After that night you made sure that your garden grew the dainty little stems of sleep droplets.
On those occurrences, when Viktor would visit your estate, he would always love spending time in the garden, all of those colours and the freshness of his surroundings. The exotic flower buds and fragrances that attracted bugs, would remind him how lucky he was to get out of the Undercity and the duty he had to the people there. Having lived here for so long Viktor would sometimes forget the luxuries he encountered day to day.
“Checkmate,” Viktor smiles over at you, while you were still looking at the chessboard: your King pinned in the middle, the bishop and Queen killing the ivory patriarch.
“It was a fluke,” you huffed out with a grin present on your lips, as Viktor’s fingers grazed over the pieces, elegantly placing them back into a green velvet-lined box.
“Eh, seems improbable to win five times on a fluke, (Y/n),” he countered – and he was right. Even for the short while of knowing Viktor, it was apparent wit, a sharp mind and the last word – all were what the inventor carried in abundance.
You let him have it; you always let him have the last word because Viktor would always render you speechless, mesmerized. You knew you shouldn’t have pursued a friendship with him: a small lick, a taste of what could be, made you crave for more of him. The way he closed his eyes and enjoyed the sweet smell swirling in your orchard, how a gentle smile swept over his features, how his chest rose and lowered – just this snippet of him, was making you more ravenous and not a single person in Piltover could be as fulfilling as the man opposite you.
You swirled the amber liquor in your glass, eyes tracing Viktor’s figure, as an idea settled in your mind; one that was absolutely filled by the spirit in the glass.
“Viktor?”
He hummed back, still lost in the way the sun was caressing his cheekbones, and poking at his beauty marks, the soft pillows engulfing his body.
A few beats of silence passed before you set the glass of audacity down – mind made up over a thought, warnings flashing through a haze. You stood up and walked over to where Viktor resided, straddling him unceremoniously. The man’s eyes shot open, looking with shock at you, ready to voice a strangled question at your position.
“Can I kiss you?” You whispered gazing at the burning embers, swimming in them, or perhaps you were sweetly drowning in molten gold?
“Miss (Y/n), you’re married,” Viktor uttered back, but he himself wasn’t sure he could deny your request, trying to rear logic back into your lips that were just barely grazing his, tickling the possibility.
“Doesn’t answer my question, Viktor,” you came closer, bumping his nose with your own, enjoying the way his name rolled off your tongue – the sweetest word mankind could have thought of.
“And if I said yes? What then?” He looked intently at you, your heaving breaths entangling, ready to be taken away.
“I would indulge,” you whispered, almost whimpered at the thought, barely hanging on as his hands finally rested on your hips.
“Yes.”
`.*:･🌣ﾟ✧:*🌣✧*:･ﾟ*.`
Xander had been back for two weeks by this point, but there was barely any shift in either of your lives: you two had come into an understanding that a routine should exist between the two of you, one that wouldn’t intrude on your personal lives: wake-up in the same bed with a good morning kiss on the lips (a silent wish for other lips to be touching you share between you), have breakfast in heavy silence, opposite each other, the clinking of cutlery having more passion that the stale soundless room, echoing cold indifference. For the rest of the day both you and him would leave each other to your own, only meeting up for dinner and going back to bed. Twice a week the two of you would have sex. It was passionless, automized, following instructions created by the years: insert, move in, move out, hold and repeat. Was it enjoyable? No. Was it a part of the routine? Yes. A routine that kept your names clean and safe.
…safe…
You would wonder many times, why not? Why not just let go of this, let yourself fall into Viktor’s arms and give up on your silent acting career – be his. Maybe the problem lay with what you got used to; the extravagance, the luxury, the soft and rich fabrics hugging your body, the gemstones pressing on your neck, the intoxicating perfume, the remarkable flavour of food and the drinks running down your lips… You got used to the convenience of life when rich while sneaking around and enjoying the feeling of true love. Sometimes you would be brave enough to admit all of this, brave to admit that you were a villain in his story, stopping him from finding someone worth his heart, but there was another reason, behind which you would hide and try to tell yourself you were doing this for him, for his security – the scandal that would arise. An inventor sleeping around with the spouse of his patron, how many would pull out of HexTech wanting to keep clean, not wanting to risk getting buried in mud?
Maybe that was your truth? Maybe you weren’t so bad? It was his life’s work on the line, thousands of people’s lives on the line, inventions that could save millions… And yet, here you were risking all of it for a moment of love and secret embraces, for sweet words you didn’t understand that would roll off his tongue as he buried himself in you. Hypocrisy. Could you hide behind the excuse that you were human, that you were scared?
Xander had just finished, rolling off of your body, onto his assigned side of the bed. It was a practiced movement, one that the two of you had perfected over the years. Every day since Viktor said those three words, the obedient silence you would keep after sex was harder to uphold. You owed him, them, that much.
“I want a divorce,” you said, voice firm, confident in the step you were taking. It almost seemed surreal that you finally voiced it, a deep desire you held since two years ago.
“What?” He got up in bed, looking over at you with his piercing blue eyes, ones that used to resemble the vast sky for your young wings, were now responsible for caging them in.
“Xander, we don’t love each other anymore, why should we continue enduring this, when we can just end this. I think both of us made it clear, that we don’t want to fix this,” you explained, your eyebrows furrowed, looking into his eyes trying to reason with him, maybe pleading for him, someone else, to give you the right to back out.
“Are you out of your mind? Do you know what the tabloids would say, how the market would drop, how- how my partners would look at me?!” His voice rose with every question, angering you.
“Since when do you care about that? Xander, we despise each other, what’s the point of going forward when it’s already terrible?” You were tired, exhausted from this relationship. You wanted to end this, he wasn’t the man you were in love with, and he wasn’t a man you could love.
“I care because the image of the company would go down. Our income could-”
“Could what?! Xander, look at how much we have! Stop being so self-centered, you have enough money that it would barely change anything, and this would blow over in a couple of weeks and we could actually live happi-” At this point you were desperate, you needed to get out of this, you couldn’t live like this anymore, it was suffocati-
“I’m self-centered?! Look at yourself fucking one of the HexTech creators,” at the accusation, your eyes widened, “Yeah, you think I don’t know about that? So, let me ask you this if it came out that you’re sleeping around with him what do you think would happen? That the papers would just gloss over it? That- that their sponsors would overlook this little scandal? You know you’re the selfish one, at least I have the decency to fuck random people and not risk ruining their life. And how do you think you would live without the money? You think you could, do it? You’re just as much of a spoilt rich bitch as I am.” The glare he had on his face was frightening, you had never seen anything like this from him. As if some sort of tragedy, this has been the most emotion he had shown towards you in years… “You know if not for you I could be free right now, not worry that our parents would take everything away and we would end up starving in the Sumps. You know what would happen to the two of us?!” And with that he left the room, leaving you alone, breathing heavily, panic settling on your skin…
`.*:･🌣ﾟ✧:*🌣✧*:･ﾟ*.`
Sick. You felt sick. And not only by the situation. Nausea was pressing on your stomach, crushing pain in your head and anxiety over the implication of a missing cycle.
The doctor’s office was unnerving: your heart rate picking up at every sound coming behind the door, your ears playing tricks of familiar footsteps, while your brain was drafting novels of possibilities. The one light in this situation was the safety net of your doctor, a trusted friend of yours, who would cover for you, give you a prescription slip, forge a couple of tests on how far along you were if needed or... Everything was going to be fine.
…or…
And yet, you were silently praying it has his, Viktor’s, child you were bearing. Twisted isn’t it: praying for a child, one of infidelity rather than marriage, wishing for a kid to be your lover’s, even though you are too scared to leave your life for him. Cowardice. But maybe this is what you needed to finally let go of your selfishness, let yourself stop the deceitful routine of life and admit the truth aloud and not behind closed doors? A child who deserves the truth that you shield yourself from, a man who deserves the chance to hold his child and be called ‘dad’ rightfully.
The door opens and your eyes shoot up, your thoughts screeching at you, trying to stop, but instead exhilarating. The white coat swishes inside a quiet click of the entryway, setting the atmosphere for what’s to come. She’s silent, as she gently brings a chair over to the examination table, where you were still sitting, your legs too weak to carry you to a proper chair. She envelops your hands in hers, lightly squeezing them, preparing you for the words that leave her mouth.
“Three weeks.”
Your eyes widened: relief, horror, gratefulness, and worry crashed over you at once. It was his, it was Viktor’s, it was a child of love, instead of thoughtless motion. Your hand mindlessly settled itself over your stomach – you and the baby. The happiest moment for some; you wished you were some, to be happy and celebrate the news, jump around and giggle… But instead, you were left at a cross-road of choices – alone. Lose the child, act like it never happened, continue life happily. Tell the truth, leave Xander, forget the life you used to enjoy and start a-new, risk the chance of shattering Viktor’s career and wrecking his life, or…
“Two weeks. They’re two weeks old,” you choked out, tears trailing down your cheeks, caressing you, almost like a mother comforting her baby… almost.
“(Y/n),” you heard her voice knocking on your ears, everything felt numb and slow, “are you sure? You could leave Xan-”
“They’re two weeks old. Xander will be happy,” maybe he will, but you won’t. Living in another lie, one that you are going to keep up – the final lie.
A single nod, before the chair, squeaked. She went to her desk, digging out a lighter, before she went back to you, the paper in hand.
“This is the only copy and I’m the only one who knows,” she placed the lighter in your hands and the paper beside you, before laying her hand reassuringly on your knee. “It’s your choice.”
Was it? Was it ever your choice, or was it chance? Or are you just evading the responsibility of being human?
`.*:･🌣ﾟ✧:*🌣✧*:･ﾟ*.`
The party was in full swing, people drinking and dancing, singing, and humouring themselves. It was a celebration of the new life that was forming, it was supposed to be your and his celebration, yet here you were: the golden lights of the party hitting your back, while the moon illuminated your nude shoulders. The wrong man boasting about a child that wasn’t his, while the one who was supposed to, looked at you with broken eyes at the news, barely standing upright from the punch.
If it were any other party, and you heard the approaching clicking of a cane, you would have broken into a smile, turning your head to the side, and letting your eyes observe the nearing man, one would always grumble about how ridiculous he looked in a suit. In turn, you would give him a cheesy grin, ‘The only ridiculous is how ridiculously good you look in this suit,’ before brushing your hand over the vest, fixing a wrinkle on his shirt. Looking back on it, you should have noticed how he made you feel then, maybe something would have been different…
But the party you were at, the echoing sound of his cane sounded like the nearing gallows – an end to something that made you feel alive. You were facing forward, even when on reflex your muscles instinctively twitched to turn. Truthfully you didn’t even know what you were looking at; if you were even seeing anything.
Silence.
He was by your side; far enough to reinforce the fact that it’s ending, yet close enough to make you wonder if you should give up your front and plead him to take you into his arms, away from this forsaken balcony, back to his dorm, he refused to leave even after finishing the academy, back to his linen sheets, back to what should be.
“I guess congratulations are in order,” Viktor uttered, he wasn’t looking at you either, choosing to follow your lead and gaze at the abyss of night. You huffed out a miserable chuckle at that.
“You could call it that,” your voice was bitter, nipping back at the cold air outside; it was prickly, pushing in tiny pins into your skin – and even though it hurt, the pain was grounding, made it easier to hold in the heart-wrenching scream pleading to be let out.
“I’m, eh, happy for the two of you,” lie. He isn’t happy about it, but that makes you the slightest bit happy. Ironic, how your lover’s pain can cause you relief. Or was it the confirmation that neither you nor he wanted this to be the truth? Was it?
“(Y/n) I-,” a pause, the breath he took in was slow, prolonging the dream-reality, “I believe we should end this. The child – I don’t think it would be appropriate…” you jaw tensed, this might have been the only appropriate thing in your life, the only thing that could have made the child happy.
“I- uh- hope that your husband will…” Viktor couldn’t get the words out, he could barely muster the courage to think of this – ‘I hope the man that funds my research, the man that you are married to, the man that cheats on you with strangers, the man you cheat on with me, the man you despise and who is infuriated by you, will be a good father to your child… a child I wish I had the chance to have with you.’
“They’re a month and a week old, Vik.”
“Goodbye, Mrs. (L/n).”
It was like your tongue moved of its own accord, ignoring your brain's commands to stay quiet and let him walk away, let him live his life freely, without the complications you brought onto him.
“What?”
“They’re a month and a week old,” – the last time we made love. “You’re smart enough, you can do the math yourself,” finally you turned to him, facing him; he seemed shell-shocked, his eyes were wide, mouth slightly open – the only sign he wasn’t part of a still-life was the way his hand slightly trembled, gripping the cane by his side to the point his already pale knuckles matched the colour of the moon. Unlike him, you were holding up the emotionless façade, not letting yourself break, at least not while he was looking.
“(Y/n), what-”
“They’re yours,” it seemed like life picked up, you could hear your own heartbeat and breath; tu-dum, hosh, tu-dum, hush, tu-dum…
The cold exterior you were holding onto was slipping; your fingers were tingling, and you felt tears prickle at the corner’s, everything that surrounded you was playing out slowly, too slowly: Viktor’s questions and confusion, his movements and –
“ im sorry im sorry im sorry ”
Something broke, speeding the world around you, making everything flash: your legs gave out and you felt the scratch of cold stone under your palms, as the tears spilt over the edges. What else could you say to fix this, to just let him live a life away from you, your burden? To just make him disappear, forget the way his love felt around you? To let him go…
Through your weeps and gasps for air, you heard a clammer of metal hitting stone, as a weight draped around you, a comforting set of arms and chest surrounded you, pressing your shaking form close, gently rocking you, an ocean-like shushing flowing to your ear. And even though the sobs erupting from your chest were stopping proper airflow, you needed to let him know, to tell him everything about the person he was holding so close to him; if you could even be called one…
“I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry,” like a prayer you whimpered the plea out.
For a moment you were back in his arms far away from the nightmare you placed yourself in; back when you were cuddled into his arms in his apartment, laughing and giggling as he was recounting his students latest exams, the mistakes that could be easily fixed; back when your relationship didn’t have a seed rooting itself into the waking realm, instead when the two of you were planting innocent flowers in your garden; back when…
“I’m sorry,” a hiccup, a sob, whatever you would call the gurgling sound in your chest, interrupted his soothing hushing, with a truth you had to share long ago, “Viktor, you are deserving of so much more than I could ever give. Someone who isn’t a risk to your career, someone who is willing to give up everything for you, someone who isn’t a coward.”
But Viktor didn’t agree: he didn’t interrupt your gasping voice, he understood you had to let the bile out, but during the confession, the man just shook his head, holding you close, letting his hand run up and down your arm – he couldn’t give you his warmth, but he could create one for you.
“I didn’t want to tell you about the child. I- I thought about… aborting them,” Viktor sucked in a sharp breath, his fingers dug into your flesh. A strike to him at the realization that he could have lost something he didn’t know existed, someone he created. “But I couldn’t. I couldn’t get rid of the only thing I might have left of us…”
‘Again,’ the voice whispered, ‘selfish. Bringing a child into the world, one where the impersonating father won’t love his family, just because you couldn’t live without this lie. Selfish, selfish, selfish…’
… ‘s e l f i s h’ it sang…
Your fingers reached into the pocket of the dress, two different rustles heard – one of fabric, another of paper.
You brought out the folded and crumbled piece of paper, its creases softened from opening it and closing it repeatedly, unable to make a decision on what to do, the edges tattered from being hidden in random pockets and gaps. It looked sad, a lot like how the person holding it felt.
“If you want to, you can rip it up, burn it,” your voice quivered, as your hand pressed the paper into Viktor’s palm. The man looked into your eyes, searching for an indication of the meaning behind that, but the shawl of emotionless fear that covered your face was illegible.
As lithe fingers went over the parchment, unfolding it, Viktor’s hands shook; some of the ink had bled through, swirling into what seemed to be a date, small speckles making constellations on the pale paper, mockingly imitating Viktor’s skin.
“It’s the only copy – the only way you could ever be tied to this child…” and even with the choice you gave him, you desperately hoped he wouldn’t want this one – one your brain constituted as the correct way.
After your confession stood a suffocating stillness; he didn’t back away, he didn’t utter a word and if you were being honest, you were thankful for it – he would leave soon, getting rid of the only physical proof you ever went beyond the closeness of friends; therefore the fact that you could indulge in this illusion was nice. The silence let you play into an fantasy world, where this would end differently, where you would live happily ever after and where consequences didn’t concern you.
The dry crinkle of paper brought you back to the physical world – Viktor made his choice; the folded piece of paper was set into one of the pockets in his jacket, safely tucked away for only the two of you to know.
“If I asked you to, would you leave him? Would you be with me?”
You lifted your gaze to him: his face was blurry, distorted by the drying tears. But his voice was clear, steady with a melody of hope – one that would hurt to humour.
“What about HexTech? Viktor, the scandal that would come from it could ruin you.”
You should have felt the silent fear of losing your life, the privilege of money and extravagance vanishing in an instance, you should have…yet there was none, there was just Viktor and his life, his work, his passion. You would survive, Sumps be damned, you could get through it, finding a way to survive would be easy, compared to the choice of hurting him, ripping everything he loved away from him – you forbade it.
“That doesn’t answer my question, Miss (Y/n),” He smiled, longingly, the words carrying you both back to the garden. And even with the happy memory remerging in his periphery, it was clouded by restrained tears.
“And if I said yes? What then?”
“I would indulge in a life with the two of you,” he brushed his finger over your abdomen.
You were looking in his eyes, searching the depths of them for something your conscious mind could not name. The feeling of his hair under and around your fingertips as you curled the strands around grounded you, and as the implications of his word’s settled a shattered smile spread over your face. Deep in your mind you knew you couldn’t enjoy the reality he proposed, but for a moment, one silly little moment you could indulge...
The night sky was littered with thousands of sparkling little dots; they were sleeping, calmly lulling the world to slumber – those who held love and sorrow, those who were selfish and cowardice, those who were risking their work and comfort and those who were huddled on the balcony, thinking what choice they had to make…
Can I have a uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh Regularly Scheduled Spicy Take for my followers?
I don't think Viktor is nearly as much of a closed in single minded workaholic as he's often portrayed, by others and admittedly by myself in the past. And I believe we have fallen into a very easy pit trap;
We are taking Viktor at his most desperate as his typical.
I mean, cmon, the only two times we ever see him are when he's first meeting Jayce and when he's Literally Dying. Complete extremes that cannot be reconciled.
BUT, we can consider some things that other characters have said about him. Namely, Sky's concern at just how much Viktor has been working, and Jayce's statement that Viktor has a tendency to disappear whenever he feels like.
This in my opinion paints a picture of a man who, while very private about his life, certainly has or had one.
Mind you, we see him as a child, and what do we see him do?
Immediately try multiple times to reach out and make connections despite having been isolated due to his disability and advanced intellect.
I do not believe that this desire has magically dissipated as he ages, replaced with a pure drive to do nothing but work: even his conviction toward his work is centered around giving people better lives to live.
The last frame of reference we have within Viktor's life span is Machine Herald Era, an era that- borrowing some words from Twitter- sees Viktor so depressed, so isolated, that lobotomizing himself is the only way for him to continue working at peak.
I know this seems all over the place but, so I'll sum it up.
I believe that the little glimpses we've seen of Viktor in his early life show a witty, charismatic, warm man who yearned to have relationships, who did not devote his entire life to his work until his entire life depended on his work. And by the time Viktor was healthy enough that he could have returned to being that warm, clever man, he'd been so isolated and ostracized that the only thing he found on the other side was depression and betrayal, and felt that pain so strongly he attempted to physically remove his capacity to feel at all.
Random thought because this is probably one of my favorite romance trope to ever exist — people in a shower.
Now hear me out: I'm not talking about smutty, steamy and terribly dangerous shower sex (like no joke, I'm a one girl show and I've nearly fallen over in the shower like twice in the past month). I'm talking about the just being naked, at your most vulnerable around your partner and just taking care of each other: washing each other's hair, massaging their scalp, and letting the suds run down their shoulders before gently brushing them off, cleaning off the face wash, carefully, to not harm each other. How you could run your hands over their chest and folds of skin, just touching one another, enjoying the closeness. I don't know why, but the moment where something should be seen as sexual (cause nakedness has to be sexual🙄) and it's not, instead it's intimate and filled with care for one another, it just makes me feel butterflies.
Today is the day the blue Viktor pin presale goes live! If you are 100% interested and wish to be put down to claim a spot, please comment "sold 1" and if there's enough people, I'll post an etsy link (:
When you write something so self indulgent, sad and try to create a morally grey reader and you end up not even liking it anymore 😔
Idk guys would you be interested in reading a Viktor x married reader who gets pregnant from viktor because infidelity??? It has a lot of self deprecating language and inner turmoil. I tried something new yknow, but I think I dont have enough experience yet to pull something off like that 🥲
"You would wonder many times, why not? Why not just let go of this, let yourself fall into Viktor’s arms and give up on your silent acting career – be his. Maybe the problem lay with what you got used to; the extravagance, the luxury, the soft and rich fabrics hugging your body, the gemstones pressing on your neck, the intoxicating perfume, the remarkable flavour of food and the drinks running down your lips… You got used to the convenience of life when rich while sneaking around and enjoying the feeling of true love. Sometimes you would be brave enough to admit all of this, brave to admit that you were a villain in his story, stopping him from finding someone worth his heart, but there was another reason, behind which you would hide and try to tell yourself you were doing this for him, for his security – the scandal that would arise. An inventor sleeping around with the spouse of his patron, how many would pull out of HexTech wanting to keep clean, not wanting to risk getting buried in mud?"
When you write something so self indulgent, sad and try to create a morally grey reader and you end up not even liking it anymore 😔
Idk guys would you be interested in reading a Viktor x married reader who gets pregnant from viktor because infidelity??? It has a lot of self deprecating language and inner turmoil. I tried something new yknow, but I think I dont have enough experience yet to pull something off like that 🥲
Could I request headcanons for Viktor with a trans girlfriend?
A/N: Just a reminder that unless specified I will write one-shots/two-shots, which take a lot longer to write. Headcanons come out usually in one or two days since I see them.
Very important: these headcanons turned out leaning towards a very feminine reader, but in no way does it mean that just because you're trans you have to conform to traditional gender roles.
Requested: Yes
Word count: 1k
❇ Viktor loves braiding your hair.
❇There is this old saying that when you braid someone's hair, you imbue your love into the strands. And while Viktor isn't a big believer in superstitions, this one has stuck with him since childhood, having heard it from a fairy-tale his grandmother would recount before bed.
❇I think for a while into your relationship with him, Viktor never told you about this story, worrying that if he did, he might scare you away. But as one evening you are swapping stories about your childhoods it slips through his lips, as if Viktor’s subconscious was longing to express the truth. Once the man in your lap realizes what he has said, he wouldn’t outwardly fuss over it, Viktor’s pale cheeks would slightly tint with embarrassment, hoping you didn’t hear it, or at least don’t connect the dots.
❇ But you did. And as he laid his head on your lap, you let your fingers sink into his fluffy hair and play with it, looping it around your fingers, massaging his scalp and making three tiny braids at the base of his neck. Viktor was so lost in the relaxing feeling your massage brought him, he only noticed this when the very next morning he was trying to quickly brush over his hair, before leaving for work: the teeth of his comb getting tangled in the braids. All Viktor could do at that moment is look at his reflection in a dumb-found expression – smiling.
❇ When he finally arrived at the lab, smiling brightly, with a bright demeanor Jayce took notice of how his friend had his hair up with one of your hairbands, showing off his woven hair. From that day forward playing with each other’s hair became a regular occurrence, trying out different braiding methods (Viktor definitely took out a book from the library for hair styling).
❇ Two words: clothes shopping.
❇ So, here's the thing - Viktor doesn't like shopping for himself, but when it comes to you this man is the biggest fashionista: color theory, fabrics, cuts, and silhouettes. It's almost scary how much he knows of this.
❇ The reason behind this, seemingly irrelevant information to a scientist, is he accidentally picked up a book about fashion history and thoroughly enjoyed it, finding both absurdity and recognition of an innate want for humans to construct rules for a made-up phenomenon. And from that moment he just kinda kept up with the fashion world, from time to time checking in with the latest runway shows and what not.
❇ The first time you two went shopping, you didn’t think he would do more than compliment you while sitting in the assigned boyfriend-seat. But not only did he rain over you with compliments. After you were done trying out the clothing you chose for yourself and stepped out of the dressing room, you saw a big pile of dresses, blouses, shirts, skirts, slacks, placed neatly on the seat next to Viktor whose only reaction to your surprised eyes was ‘I thought you’d look cute in these,’ and a boyish grin. As you were trying those outfits on, Viktor would ask you to come out and show him how they look: you’d do a tiny twirl or imitate a model walk, flushing red under his observant gaze. But even then he would flash you a smile, before you went to try on another outfit.
❇ Viktor was spot on your style, the fabric having a nice feeling to your skin and high quality. He always had a knack for noticing small details about people.
❇ 😳the ~lingerie~… The first couple of time you two accidentally stumble there, and Viktor is slightly flustered, not exactly used to looking at it at such close proximity, especially with his girlfriend there. Later on, would absolutely love to take you there and look at all the brassieres and lace underwear deeming it a necessary purchase. As he explained ‘sometimes it’s simply about you feeling sensual for no one else, but yourself.’
❇ After the clothes, he would absolutely drag you to the makeup and accessory aisle “the secret is in the details, lásko.” He would always encourage you to try out new things and experiment with how you present yourself in the public eye, but always respecting the firm boundaries you have set.
❇ And even with the copious amounts of clothing you have, Viktor adores seeing you in his clothing. In the early mornings after you wake up naked, the marks of his lips visible, his white dress shirt hanging over your body, slightly slipping off your shoulders, as you roll out of bed, pulling your hair into a messy bun, pulling his boxers over your legs and making your way into the kitchen to make some warm sweet milk for the two of you.
❇ If you’re having a bad body day, feeling like less of a woman, Viktor would be there for you, trying to lift your spirits up: reaffirming that you are no less of a woman, whispering sweet pet names in his mother tongue and simply indulging you in a lazy day of sweatpants and talking. During those days he would insist that you try doing his make-up: he especially enjoyed your colorful eyeliner and eyeshadow collection. Viktor loved when you drew on lower cartoony eyelashes on him and some purple tint to his inner eye to compliment his golden honey drops.
❇ If by the end of the day you’d be feeling slightly better, Viktor, with the make-up still on his face, and your hand in his, still in your loungewear would go to a shop to get something sweet. And if anyone even dared to give a side-eye to how Viktor looked, he would stand taller, exuding confidence in his step, almost as if he was daring them to comment on it.
Hi sorry for asking but are you going to include nsfw in your spn rewrite? And are you going to continue writing it?
Hi, hello. and no worries about it. I'm definitely gonna include nsfw in it and yes I am planning to continue it, but it's mostly gonna be after my Viktor brain-rot subsides. At this point I think I'm satiated with big hunky bad boy man, if you know what I mean? I just need a bit of long twig smart man>:))
A/N: this is going to be a two-part story, about trans Viktor and trans reader. I'm combining two requests, one from my friend (the one you are reading now) and the other one from here on tumblr. I myself am not trans, so I consulted with a friend of mine, who is trans, to get a second opinion on these one-shots.
A beautiful Trans Viktor piece by @inkinflux
Requested: Yes
Word count: 4.6k
Contains: smut, body worship, some philosophical rambling, Viktor being cute and saying stuff in Polish, non-descriptive genitalia.
Summary: A fifth date at your apartment leads to you opening up to Viktor, telling him something important. And in turn you show just how beautiful he is.
The kitchen was as lively as ever – water was boiling, the white clouds, nearing the methodically placed wooden spoon, the vegetables and bean-cutlets were sizzling away in the pan, the oil popping like firecrackers, in the oven a classic apple Szarlotka. The heat of the room was pounding against the windows, the contrast of the cold weather outside fogging up the glass, and melodies from the gramophone trying to escape to the outside. It was your own personal sauna, as you bustled around laying down the tableware, the blue pictures swirling on the porcelain.
Viktor should be coming soon, though considering it was a workday, he might be late, by thirty minutes. Always enraptured by science and the possibility of a new discovery. At that thought, you chuckled, a memory resurfacing of your first date with him.
Looking down at your wristwatch, you sighed dejectedly – he was late. The concert had already begun an hour ago, so even if he showed up, the doors would not open for the two of you. Getting all dressed up like this seemed pointless now, the fresh, ironed clothing – crinkled, the sweet fragrance – wafted away… It almost seemed like your body was making a mockery of the unsuccessful date.
You decided to go, Viktor wouldn’t be showing up this late, and you were just stupid for thinking he would in the first place. Sure, he seemed excited when you asked him if he was interested in joining you for an orchestral evening, but maybe you mistook it for shock that you would ask something like that? The extra ticket you bought just as an excuse to ask him out, seemed like a clever idea…at the time. But now it seemed more like an unnecessary purchase – you could have saved the money to get the fibres on your cello bow re-haired.
You stepped out into the swirl of snowflakes, which were twirling around as if they were ballet dancers. As the chill seeped into your exposed skin, you tucked yourself more into your coat, hiding your nose in the fur: eyes closed, you wished to suddenly teleport home, back to your joggers and jumper, with a steaming cup of cocoa with five marshmallows floating in the drink and a heaping amount of whipped cream on top. Sighing again, now followed by a puff of smoke, your shoes clicked against the marble stairs of the opera house – somewhere in the distance, a rushed metal clinking accompanied yours. You looked up to see a figure hurrying towards the opera: his scarf poorly tied around his neck, the coat unbuttoned, his hair rebelliously poking out from under the knit hat, and the infamous cane by his side.
“You’re late,” You called out to the figure, a smile gracing your lips at the man, who was clambering up the stairs, his auburn eyes shooting up to you – startled.
You were right, they didn’t let you in the concert hall, so, instead, the two of you, dressed in your fanciest clothes, made your way to a cheap bar, where the main attraction was the rock bands performing every night. It was where Viktor, cheeks rosy, and a surprising tolerance for alcohol opened up to you about him being trans. With his voice soft and eye slightly down-cast he told you, that before you two get too involved you deserve to know ‘the truth.’ Then the man in front of you tried to explain himself and say sorry if this was too soon, but he never got the chance, as you pressed your back against his chest, tucking yourself in his arms, enjoying how his arms held you and the music that flowed around the room.
And now you were here, on your fifth (official) date when the two of you go out and do something outside of the lab. Viktor is, of course, heavily invested in his work, but he enjoys your company. Some lean-to call him a workaholic, but you would disagree – yes Viktor would get carried away by his ideas, work tirelessly, but the moment he took a break he loved spending time with people, loved observing them… he loved people and because of that he overworked to help them. The passion he had was what pulled him out of bed when he would just want to sleep in.
Usually, when you found yourself in the lab with Viktor, it would be you working on a piece, gliding your bow over the strings, and working out the harmonies, while he looks over calculations and diagrams for a new prototype. It was a silent time spent, but nonetheless important – the lack of pressure to fill the room with pointless small-talk was refreshing for the both of you. And whether one of you had something to say, the conversation would turn into a non-stop discussion, concerning the most random of topics: some philosophical in nature, other’s jokingly questioning simple things…
Your train of thought was interrupted by a gentle knock on the door. Out of habit, you looked out the peep-hole only to be met with the sight of Viktor: his curls escaping his black hat with a reindeer pattern knitted on it, a fuzzy pom-pom atop of it, a red and grey plaid scarf wrapped around him and a black coat hanging off of his frame, his signature cane in his left hand, that was also covered in one of his grey mittens – the man looked like he was drowning in the warm fabric, only his eyes peeking out from his winter armour.
“Hello,” he greeted you, when you pulled the door open for him, stomping his feet on your outdoor mat, leaving a puddle of melting snow.
“Hey,” you smiled at him, helping him take off his coat and hanging it on the coat rack, while the scarf and hat were placed on the heater, “come in.” At that, Viktor took off his boots and put his feet in those pink bunny slippers you bought for him as a joke. But since they were made of wool, they had become Viktor’s favourite footwear when visiting your house.
“It smells delicious,” Viktor commented, following after you towards your kitchen area, his cane softly clinking, echoing your footsteps.
“Well, I tried. The recipe for the apple pie was surprisingly easy,” You smiled over your shoulder, turning off the knobs under the pot and frying pan, stirring the food one last time.
“I’m happy to hear that,” Viktor grinned, making his way to where you were standing, plating the food, waiting for you to hand him the dish.
“How did your day go? Any interesting revelations?” You asked, passing him his plate, red sauce dripping from the sides of the cutlets and pooling in the garnish.
“Eh, no, not really,” Viktor replied, as he placed the cutlery down, going back for your plate, “Right now it’s just a lot of calculations and tweaking numbers.”
“I remember finding that so redundant in school,” You gave him your own plate, before taking two wine glasses and pouring the dark mahogany liquid in them, and bringing them to the table.
“It can be, but I’d compare it to meditation – letting your thoughts flow while focusing on the task at hand,” Viktor answered, waiting for you to put down the wine glasses, before pulling your chair out for you.
“Hm, never saw it like that,” You hummed out, taking a seat, looking up at Viktor appreciatively. And, even though, Viktor was ever the gentleman, he would never pass up the opportunity to tease you in private – as he pushed you back in, he laid a kiss on your cheek, making a loud smooching sound, which made both of you giggle before going back to your conversation.
“But what about you? How is the concert coming along?” Viktor asked as he sat himself down, taking the glass between his long, slender fingers, loosely holding it up to his mouth.
“Eh, wake up, rehearse, lunch, rehearse, get back home and read the sheets for tomorrow,” you said, tossing the salad a couple of times in the bowl.
“I guess redundancy is the way the world works,” Viktor remarked, gently picking up his plate when he noticed how you moved the tongs towards him.
“The world is a creature of habit,” you added, noticing the happy glint in Viktor’s eyes at the fresh vegetables. He was always happy to eat fresh food, especially having grown up with the lack of it.
“But it is true, no? Think of it: our basic necessities, such as sleeping and eating, hibernation–”
“Yes, ‘basic necessities, like eating and sleeping,’” you rebuffed, looking at him disapprovingly, knowing full-well that even if he enjoyed the pleasures of food and sleep, he was terrible at treating them as something more than a luxury.
“Your point?” He asked, his eyebrow arched at you, a slight glimmer in his eyes.
“You know my point,” you said, but not going into another in-depth call out how he needed to care not only for his projects but his own well-being. “I agree. We live in a continuous circle.”
“Mmm, indeed circle is a brilliant analogy – totality, original perfection, eternity and timelessness,” Viktor picked up the utensils, almost as if he was observing them, with the calculated gaze of a surgeon.
“That definition makes it sound more like a prison,” you noted, enamoured by that look of his – silent observations and quick calculations running through his eyes.
“One could consider it, yes,” Viktor hummed and put down the utensils, turning his focus back on to you, honey eyes staring at you, a challenge, waiting for you to put forward your own thoughts.
“You know that circles carry connotation with Gods themselves,” a teasing smile passed your face, waiting for him to question the idea.
“And how is that?”
“A never-ending power, revolving around itself,” you explained, taking the glass, and swirling the red alcohol around a couple of times, “and we are in the middle of it, trying to find the edge of the circle.”
“Perhaps,” Viktor hummed out, his eyes glazed with thought.
“Okay, I think that’s enough thinking for today, time to eat,” Placing down the glass, you picked up the fork and knife, starting the dinner.
“Looks delicious,” Viktor praised, his fork piercing the salad, a satisfying crunch coming from the leaves.
“But does it taste good?”
“The smell of food has a significant impact on the taste,” you hummed for him to continue, knowing just how much he enjoys laying out information he had learnt over the years, “odour molecules go through the back of our nasal cavity and activate our receptors.”
“Hmm, interesting,” your eyebrows twitched up slightly in surprise, before nodding to his plate, trying to use a firmer tone in your voice, “Now will you please eat? Before it gets cold,”
“Fine, fine,” Viktor mumbled, rolling his eyes, even though a happy smile was on his lips.
Both of you dug into your meal, agreeing that it was good, before eating in silence. The apartment wasn’t dead quiet though: the whistling of the wind, or a creak here and there, the gramophone that was playing some orchestral music, filled the rooms with fuzzy cosines. It was calming, though a looming thought hung over your head, like an anglerfish coaxing out your anxiousness. Before the alluring nature of forgetting the reason behind this date, you cut through the silence.
“Viktor, I need to tell you something.”
The metal scraping against the plate stilled, Viktor settled the utensils down, turning his eyes to you, attentively waiting. And even though you trusted him, you felt safe with him, you knew he would accept you no matter what, those anxious thoughts started nearing the edges, almost spilling over in your head. The what if’s, the maybe’s… all of those questions that ultimately were just one road of infinite land.
It was about thirty seconds of this deafening silence, you – thinking over scenarios, meanwhile Viktor’s own thoughts to start throwing their bait into the pond of his minds, the doubts following after your questioning road. His eyebrows furrowed, and before the insecurities could fish out the suffocating anxiety: “(Y/n)?” he prompted.
It was as if he snapped his fingers, the hypnosis-like state you were in, physically shuddering away from your body. You blinked a couple more times, trying to slap away any ideas of steering the conversation into a different direction, than what you really wanted to say.
“Viktor, – I’m trans too,” At the end of the sentence you gave out a tight-lipped smile, the corners of your mouth digging into your cheeks. The rise of your chest had slightly deepened as if trying to rid you of that nervousness.
And in response all Viktor did, was give you his warm smile, eyes shining with happiness? Pride? Or something in between. He leaned forward in his chair, his long, cool fingers, grasped your hand, gently, but undoubting of his actions – precision he had acquired from years of working with tiny delicate mechanisms.
“Thank you,” he said, a light squeeze reaffirming the words.
As the sense of relief and surprise hit you at once, a breathy chuckle left your lungs, a bright smile splitting your face, while your head shook in disbelief, “Why are you thanking me?”
“That you told me,” He smiled. The glint in Viktor’s eyes clearly said, he wasn’t going to explore the reasons behind his response, but one thing was clear – he accepted you, he still cared, and the predatory fish that was swimming in your mind, retreated to its cave.
The chair scraped against the floor as you stood up moved towards Viktor, shuffling between his legs. Almost instinctively his hand made their way up to your thighs, to rest on your hips, fingers softly squeezing you in reassurance, while your arms circled his shoulders.
“You, Viktor, are an incredible man,” you said, your voice low, arms bending to allow your fingers to twirl through his auburn hair, short strands tickling your thumbs when they escaped. Both of you were holding each other’s gaze steadily: every single time you observed them, there was always something new to discover: from the way new golden specks glazed into his iris, surrounding the depth of his pupil, to how the pattern reminded you of sun rays beaming from a black sun.
“I know,” He answered, a cheeky grin sitting atop of his lips, almost as if teasing you to lay your own on them.
A smirk passed your own lips, as you took a step back, taking a hold of Viktor’s hands, tenderly tugging on them, “And incredible men, deserve worship, wouldn’t you say?” You looked at him through your lashes, pulling him closer to your body, before he had a proper chance to stumble, his arms encircling your waist.
“Worship?” Viktor repeated, his eyebrow raised, a curious glint in his eye.
You hummed back in agreement, taking one step backwards, bringing Viktor to follow suit.
“You know it would be quicker if I grabbed my cane,” Viktor whispered, leaning his head lower, trying to catch your lips – but he didn’t touch them, deliberately leaving just enough space to tease you back, his breath fanning over you.
“Where’s the fun in hurry?” You asked him again, before reaching up to connect your lips, slowly moulding them, pushing against each other, while your hands were grasping to be closer.
Before, leaving the kitchen Viktor, slightly leaning on you, grabbed the cane, placed on the side of the dining table, and hooked it over his arm. The moment his aid was secured, he went back to your lips, his cold hands cupping your reddening cheeks, while yours reoccupied their place in his hair. Slowly your bodies made their way to your bed, step by step, Viktor, instead of using the cane, leaning on you, following where you were leading him before he felt the mattress against the back of his knees. He let his cane tumbled down somewhere on the floor, before, blindly lowering himself to the mattress, Viktor’s hands pressing down on the sheets, yet never once leaving your mouth, almost refusing to lose this moment. You couldn’t let go either, your posture slightly bent, chasing after him, the coolness of his lips, your palms laying on his cheeks, thumb trailing over the sharp edges of his face, memorizing every bump and hollow on his face with your fingertips.
After a couple of seconds of barely being able to focus on anything but you, Viktor widened his legs, tugging you to stand between them, fingers grazing the material that was stopping him from feeling your warm skin.
As the strain in your back increased you lowered yourself to the floor, kneeling in front of Viktor, lips going down from his lips, cheeks to his jaw. Now that his mouth wasn’t occupied by yours, you heard Viktor’s breathless mumbles of your name, how he slightly whined when you scraped your teeth against the very edge of his jaw, the restrained moans.
“(Y/n), please,” Viktor breathed out, while his eyes were closed, not daring to let you see them if perhaps this was all a dream.
As commanded your fingers started blindly fumbling around with his vest.
“Would you be very angry with me, if I just ripped it off?” You posed an airy question to him.
The only response Viktor gave was a brief glare, before he enveloped your fingers, tugging them to his hair, silently begging you to play with it instead, while he handled the white shirt. So, you did, the tendrils of hair wrapped around your fingers, slightly pulled every couple of seconds after a nip or grazes of your tongue over his Adam’s apple. His fingers were surprisingly steadier than yours, nimbly popping the buttons from their loops.
The moment Viktor got the last button undone, your hands greedily came to his chest, over his shoulders removing the shirt and vest completely, throwing it on your designated I’ll-do-it-tomorrow-chair. You released a pleased hum, when you saw beauty marks on his shoulders, forming a simple constellation.
In the past you had taken notice that they were scattered all over his body: his hands had three of them, two on the outside of his left hand and one on the inside of right palm, one on his collarbone and two on his neck. You would count them when he wasn’t looking, wondering whether you would find more on his arms and chest, on his waist, hips, thighs… Now you had the chance to make your own discoveries.
Your lips trailed down from his jaw nipping on his pulse point, relishing in the way Viktor whined at the contact, moving his head farther back to give you even more space to explore his pale skin, now being tainted with red marks. You allowed your teeth to trail down his neck towards his clavicles, tongue following the protruding line of the bone, and when you reached the end of the trail, giving another bite.
“This is more like torture rather than ‘worship’,” Viktor panted out, the black sun had overtaken the gold long ago, his cheeks dusted red, lips slightly bruised and parted.
“Are they that different?” you cooed, lips trailing down the side of his shoulder, licking at the line of muscle there.
“By definition they are,” He panted out, as your arms circled his waist, slowly tipping to lay the two of you down. However, your lips never once stopped: going from his left shoulder down to his chest, tracing the healed scars on his chest: kissing the thin line with adoration, before reaching the centre of his chest, where you lay there for a moment, enjoying the moment and the uncharacteristic warmth radiating from him, an erratic drumming of his heart. It slowly calmed down from the quick set pace, Viktor having a moment to recuperate, his slender fingers reaching around your back to trace the outlines of your neck, the tiny baby hairs there wrapping themselves around his digits.
“Can I take it off?” Viktor asked, his fingertips feeling the soft fabric of your shirt.
“Yeah,” you breathed out, coming up again to his mouth, a kiss filled love and admiration, instead of the lust fuelled wrestling of your lips were in just moments ago. Viktor’s long arms reached the edge of your shirt gently tugging it up your body and over your head. Breathing out a simple ‘beautiful’ at your nude torso. All you could do was smile back at him, before going back to your original position on his chest.
With your lips back and glued to his chest, kissing it up down, marking it with light bruises, your hands went lower, exploring his waist and the ridges of his stomach, trailing towards his lower half. You unbuttoned his slacks, slightly pushing them down, feeling the scratchiness of the wool material on your fingertips, relishing the roughness of it.
Your tongue sunk lower over his stomach, making its path to the side to his prominent hip bone, kissing and biting down on it, getting a hiss out of Viktor. Your eyes flashed upwards catching a glimpse of the dishevelled man: head thrown back, giving you a perfect view of his neck, clear reddening splotches already forming from your teeth, Viktor’s cheeks flushed with a cherry rose colour, bruised lips parted just a twinge, far enough to let the sound of his hushed moans to escape.
A delighted huff left you when you spotted beauty marks on his hips too, kissing them with just as much tenderness.
“What- what is your fascination with my moles?” Viktor out of breath asked. No matter how much pleasure he was experiencing, just from your lips, he was still curious, still needing to understand.
“One,” you pointedly kissed the beauty mark again, “they’re called beauty marks,” a lick nearing the edge of his slacks, “and two,” you looked up at his gold eyes, “I’m fascinated with the entirety of you.” You hooked your teeth over the edge of his pants, keeping eye contact with the darkened ambers and with the help of your hands you took off Viktor’s last piece of clothing – it pooled around his ankles, leaving Viktor trying to weakly kick them off, completely enraptured with your gaze on him. Keeping your eyes on him you dove in between his legs – devouring.
And oh, it was glorious, you lap at Viktor, swirling your tongue between his legs, his pants and moans filling the room. Viktor’s hands went to your scalp, long fingers gripping the hair by the base, tugging on it, pushing it closer to him, grunting, begging for release to come sooner, for him to come.
“(Y/n), please – don’t stop – blet – please, fuck,” a slew of breathy words were falling from his lips, but no complete sentence formed. The thought, though, was clear – ‘please fuck me.’ And how could you deny him that?
You pressed your tongue against him, dragged it over him, swirled and teased, leaving Viktor whining, begging, pleading for the intense pressure to be relieved.
“Please, (Y/n), please,” His fingers were tangled in your hair, tugging on it, as if it would suddenly help him reach pleasure. But you drew it out, making sure he would see the stars. Keeping him there under you, a breathless mess.
And suddenly his moans became louder, the tug on your scalp tighter, his thighs forcing themselves to not close in on you, shaking from the strain, and you couldn’t withhold from him anymore, working your tongue faster, harsher, scarping his legs to increase the sensations he felt.
“(Y/n)!”
With one final scream, Viktor came: his muscles slackened, body completely relaxed, rejoicing in the euphoria running through his body. But you couldn’t stop, couldn’t leave such a magnificent place: going from his centre to his thighs, kissing them, sucking in lavender marks, so he wouldn’t forget whose name he cried out, who took him close to the stars. You don’t even know how long you were there, just letting your lips ravage him, admire the lines of muscle, and follow them down… But it seemed long enough for Viktor to gather himself, his cool hands wrapping themselves around your upper arm, pulling you closer to him.
Viktor drew you up, holding you to his chest, kissing your lips, tasting himself, before giving you a breather – repaying the price on your neck. Nipping the place connecting your shoulder to your neck, spoiling your imagination with the way his tongue rolled around, how his teeth gently ran over the tender spots.
“Jesteś moim sercem,” Viktor sighed out against the side of your neck, gently kissing a slight blemish a top of it.
“Wanna translate that, Mr. Bilingual?” You huffed out a chuckle, enraptured in the sensations his presence gave off.
“You are-,” Viktor paused, before sniffing the air, “do you smell that?” You looked at him, Viktor’s eyebrows were scrunched in confusion, trying to pinpoint the smell. When you started smelling the air, it didn’t take long to pinpoint the scent – burning. And with that, eyes wide, you ran to the kitchen, “THE PIE!” the only thing you screamed out, leaving Viktor even more concerned.
As you darted into the kitchen, you saw the smoke faintly escaping the ovens confines. You hurried over to it, turning off the knobs and opening the oven door, smoke spilling out from it, spreading around the entire room, like cool morning mist. Rushing to the window, you opened it wide and with the help of the kitchen towel in swatting motions, you moved the smoke outside of your apartment, into the freezing night.
When most of the burnt clouds were cleared out, you could finally calm down, turning to go back to your bedroom to inform Viktor of the horrible news, but as you turned you already caught him there, leaning on the side of the door, cane in the other hand, and his chest still bare, a couple of moles over his torso that in your haste you missed.
“Viktor, you’re gonna catch a cold standing around like that!” You chastised him, forcing yourself to look away and start searching for a sweater or comforter, you would usually leave lying around. However, the man in the doorway didn’t seem to care for a cold, if he could look at you, half-nude, for a while longer, an adoring gaze plastered on his face – he would definitely risk it.
Finally, you found an old, oversized sweater, which you helped Viktor pull over his head, the fluffy hair immediately popping out like a daisy.
“There,” you smiled at your handy finding, looking up to see his adoring eyes, “I’m sorry, I interrupted, what were you saying?” You prompted him, taking off a few loose hairs hanging around the sand-coloured sweater. Maybe it had something to do with your hands being on him…
“Mmmm, nothing I can’t repeat later,” Viktor smiled down at you, something gleaming in those eyes of his. You looked at them for a moment longer, trying to gauge if it really wasn’t that important, but they weren’t revealing any secrets.
“Well…” you finally smirked, thinking that maybe you could get it out of him in a different way, “if so, I know another dessert I’d want.”
“And what would that be?” He questioned, catching your innuendo quickly.
“It’s called a Viktor cake,” you smirked at the man in your arms.
“How very dairy of you,” Viktor grinned back, his accent huskily accentuating the rolling of the words.
“Viktor,” you giggled, laying your head on his chest, “it’s cheesy, not dairy.”
oh its my time to shine! hello yes, im a disabled person and ive noticed a couple of things that you should keep in mind when writing any disabled character if you're able bodied (though a few will be specifically about viktor)
1 a • asexual headcanons: as your local disabled asexual, i can say that there can be issues in regards to this headcanon! a lot of times disabled folk will be infantilized or seen as less capable because "oh how are you supposed to have sex?" aka a lot of weird prejudice about disabled peoples sex lives and if they can even have them. this is not to say you shouldnt headcanon viktor this way at all, but to just keep in mind that if you find yourself always headcanoning disabled characters as ace you should think about why you are doing that!
1 b • on the topic of disablity and sex, please do some research from disabled authors who talk abt this! there are plenty of great resources abt it and i recommend checking them out anyways! disabled people in sex come in all forms, with all position preferences and kinks! and also please maybe try to avoid the "inexperienced shy virgin disabled person is shown how to get it on by the chad able bodied person" trope
2 • the cr*pple word. okay so i actually got flack for this but im saying it anyways: cr*pple is an offensive term and a lot of people (including myself) would consider it a slur. disabled folk are allowed to reclaim it, which is why you see viktor and only viktor say it on screen, but please refrain from using it as an adjective or synonym to disabled person please!
3 • canes and crutches: this is more of a minor one but with canes and crutches you use them on the opposite side of the hurt leg (aka if your left leg acts up, you have your cane on your right)
4 • please dont make our entire existance resentful of our disablities. the show can be a bit guilty of this too, but a lot of times we only are represented as a form of misery porn for able bodied viewers to pity. dont feel the need to make viktors disability his only character trait or motivation, because while our disabilities are a big part of our lives its not the only part of it!
5 • if you can, avoid making viktor seem overly evil or inhuman. yes ik abt the canon league lore but ill explain:
basically a common story beat you'll see for disabled people is rejection of their humanity, because they associate their humanity with their disability and they resent their disability. while it can be done well, it often leads to not so great implications of "disabled people need to change themselves to fit into society instead of soceity accounting and caring for disabled people" which is obviously! bad! theres nothing wrong with us, we're just different and a lot of times people with disabilities are viewed as inhuman or monsters, and it alienates us a lot and makes us seem like some big scary monster to avoid. im not saying it can never be done, but just take a moment to think about why you are utilizing the thing that makes a group a minority their reason to be a villain.
6 • please for the love of all that is holy and good dont do the able bodied saviour trope, viktor grew up in the undercity and while he probably couldnt hold his own in hand to hand combat against someone like vi, that doesnt mean he never learnt jack while living there (and im 98% convinced mans has a hidden weapon slot in his mobility aids at all times /hj)
those are all the disability related tips to keep in mind atm! obvs do your own research, if you have disabled friends comfortable with discussing and answering questions ask them, make sure you are looking at the right places because theres a lot of misinformation about us and please, please please please keep writing about and with viktor. when i saw a disabled character on screen, one that was so similar to mine, who not only acknowledged his disablity but also didnt make it the only aspect of his character i neard cried. its amazing seeing so many people love him as much as i do and im beyond excited to see what everyone creates!
Thank you so much. I'm able-bodied, and I don't know anyone in my circles who have disabilities, so sadly my only resource is the internet and asking online people who are comfortable with sharing. I really hope that the works I have written for Viktor don't make it out, like I view him as a toddler or someone incompetent to take care of himself. I always viewed it as more of getting too engrossed with his work to take care of him (again something i relate so hard on). I hope you don't mind, that I will link this message on the original post.
Something I need to keep in mind while writing Viktor
I hope the way I worded my thoughts is okay.
Might add stuff later on
Basically this post in general.
Post
Post concerning Viktor's personality and how we headconed him as a workaholic
Post (Please read this one)
Etiquette: Interacting with people with disabilities
Video about disability and villains
"Viktor's isolation and lack of friends as a child was not due to him being 'too smart' or 'too focused on inventing', it was due to him being disabled."
"Viktor truly wants to have friends, but as a child he was given serious barriers to entry. And as an adult, his introverted habits persist due in no small part to the fact that he was looked over so much when he was little, coupled with that he does not want to burden people with his chronic health issues."
I don't want infantilize him or Sherlock-ofy him.
If writing smut keep in mind this man won't be able to do parkour with you!
While I agree that Viktor is definitely a confident man, I think it's more because of his intellect and skill rather than his body. (This is one of the biggest reasons why I relate to him so fucking much). I don't think he's necessarily insecure about/only about his disability just in general physique.
At the same time though I don't think every one-shot or smut I would write about him, should have a narrative about him being insecure about this. Like any person Viktor can be both confident and insecure depending on the day.
If you have any other ideas or tips on how to not misrepresent Viktor's character, it would be very helpful. As someone who is a able-bodied themselves, I would be very thankful to hear from disabled people and how they believe would be best to represent a disabled person in fiction: the things they find acceptable in fanfction works and things to avoid (something we able-bodied writers don't always consider).
Adding on a message from @higheverweave
"Hey If you need some help from Disabillity culture perspective I can do what I can :)
I mostly come from An ASD perspective But I was raised in Disabled spaces via social groups so Just lmk what you’re looking for. If I can’t answer a question directly there’s a ton of awesome folks with lived experience who talk about this stuff a lot. Main tips:
• Mobility aids are counted as an extension of a persons body…. Touching a wheelchair or crutch or any medical aide without permission is like an extreme no-no.
• Mostly our entire culture isn’t so much about everyone taking care of us but figuring out how to get access so we can take care of ourselves. Ex.) I have a mentor I greatly respect she’s very honest. She has Cerebral Palsy though so moving her body can be challenging. As she can’t predict what her hands will do when she is making something she has a device that she wears on her head that tracks her eye movements and she makes art uses the internet etc. using this device all still her work her thoughts her effort …. It’s just made accessible for her to enact/share.
• Energy regulation is a huge thing. People with more Physical Needs and folks with Asd have a thing called spoons. It’s an odd little metaphor for burn out. But Viktor faces this on two fronts:
1) physical energy < this is going to be different for him and time in the story matters for this as well. If you watch closely you can see him lean on things…. He’s a little tired but not so tired he’s burnt out or depleted all his energy.
2) This dude I don’t know if he is 2E 2E is short for twice exceptional meaning having multiple learning accommodation needs (English second language and needing Accommodations for disability. Or on Viktor's case he is considered “gifted.” Or a “genius.” But that heavily relies on IQ which is bs because intelligence doesn’t have math it can’t be measured. IQ tests are very much a eugenics thing, so even those of us who count as gifted or geniuses know it’s a kind of BS label. There’s this price people pay in regards to twice exceptionality. The folks who are considered geniuses or smarter or whatever…. People don’t realize there’s an extreme downside to it….. if you have an idillic memory if you remember EVERYTHING you remember every insult everyone has said to you…. You remember every betrayal every fear every death every heartache intensely and it can be hard to let go. Luckily this also makes us want to try to understand others. Although most don’t understand us… The one group of people who knows how to calm us down …. Our peers with More support needs or IDD. They can see things without overthinking it and really center us back to ourselves. We need each other. A lot of that social isolation too Is also fear…. Disabled folks it used to be illegal for some of us to go out in public until 1974 re laws called Ugly laws we still get kicked out of public places sometimes if we don’t fit in or “make people uncomfortable.” So when we are trusting someone we are trusting them with the power they have over us. Automatically by default: I understand because I am autistic if somebody wanted to say i did something. I didn’t do and I denied it (They could use the idea of sanity against me to sway the argument in their favor.) To understand disability you have to understand Eugenics as a part of everyday culture. Meaning there are some people other people believe just take up space by existing… that to some leaders is a waste of money food and resources. So Their solution is how they perceive survival of the fittest. Covid is a good example when people wanted to end lockdown early there were people on the streets with signs saying sacrifice the weak. When asked about they said yeah sure it’s sad some people will die but they would die anyway so why should I sacrifice my freedom for it. People actually said this. So some of the isolation is a fear for safety as well. Hope this helps!🤍"
