Hello lovelies. I’m so sorry I’ve fallen off the face of the planet, but life has been a little rough and writing has unfortunately fallen to the wayside.
I’m here to ask for help from all of you. My cat, Mozart, is in severe need of medical treatment. I’ve had him since middle school, and he is now a senior. If we can’t raise the money, my mother and I will be forced to surrender him. This would frankly break my heart irreparably, and I can’t bear to think of him trying to get accustomed to a new family at such an old age—or worse, being stuck in a shelter because he has such time-consuming issues.
Please, donate if you can and reblog this for me. I love him so much.
Hi, my name is Rachel and I'm the cat mom to Mozart (affectionately nickn… Rachel Weiss needs your support for Help for Mozart's Life-Saving
Hello lovelies. I’m so sorry I’ve fallen off the face of the planet, but life has been a little rough and writing has unfortunately fallen to the wayside.
I’m here to ask for help from all of you. My cat, Mozart, is in severe need of medical treatment. I’ve had him since middle school, and he is now a senior. If we can’t raise the money, my mother and I will be forced to surrender him. This would frankly break my heart irreparably, and I can’t bear to think of him trying to get accustomed to a new family at such an old age—or worse, being stuck in a shelter because he has such time-consuming issues.
Please, donate if you can and reblog this for me. I love him so much.
Hi, my name is Rachel and I'm the cat mom to Mozart (affectionately nickn… Rachel Weiss needs your support for Help for Mozart's Life-Saving
Hello lovelies. I’m so sorry I’ve fallen off the face of the planet, but life has been a little rough and writing has unfortunately fallen to the wayside.
I’m here to ask for help from all of you. My cat, Mozart, is in severe need of medical treatment. I’ve had him since middle school, and he is now a senior. If we can’t raise the money, my mother and I will be forced to surrender him. This would frankly break my heart irreparably, and I can’t bear to think of him trying to get accustomed to a new family at such an old age—or worse, being stuck in a shelter because he has such time-consuming issues.
Please, donate if you can and reblog this for me. I love him so much.
Hi, my name is Rachel and I'm the cat mom to Mozart (affectionately nickn… Rachel Weiss needs your support for Help for Mozart's Life-Saving
ask meme: send me a ship and a number and i will write a kiss.
24: ...in danger.
Not much was left for Hextech after the Battle of Piltover. That was okay. You had no plans to continue studying it anyway. Maybe had Viktor or Jayce died, you’d feel the need to carry their legacy; but here you sat in the cushioned window seat of your now-empty lab, your legs tangled with Viktor’s as you rested against his chest. You were content to stay here for the rest of your life.
His hand tightened against you. He knew your thoughts were wandering. You closed your eyes and he did too—you fell to the magical plane with him, where he glowed colors unimaginable and became the most beautiful person of all time. He believed the same of you.
“What’s on your mind?” he asked softly, hand encapsulating yours both physically and spiritually.
“I keep thinking about the end.”
He hummed in response. A comfortable quiet befell you.
“...I think about it every waking moment,” he murmured.
“Part of me wants to revisit it.”
“Why does part of you not?”
“It makes me sad.”
You felt the physical warmth of Viktor hugging you closer, your back pressed against his chest as he rested his chin on your shoulder.
“But part of it makes you happy, no?”
You nodded. “Seeing your face again… It felt cathartic. If I didn’t know the danger we were all in, I would’ve followed you through, past the end.”
He clicked his tongue. “I’m glad you didn’t. You saved us all.” He pressed a kiss to your temple. “You saved me.”
You shivered at his words, how low his voice got. You grabbed for his hands as he kissed down your face, to the corner of your jaw.
“Viktor…” you breathed.
“Let’s revisit,” he murmured against your ear.
You returned to the magical plane as the memory floated to the surface. Your spirits waded into its golden waters. Warmth enveloped you as you felt as if you were transported back in time. You still held all the knowledge of the future, yet were simultaneously limited to the emotions and thoughts of the time of the memory. It would be nauseatingly confusing if it weren't the work of the arcane.
You were kneeling atop the Hexgate, Piltover in ruins below you, Jayce beside you. Hammer in both your hands, Viktor placed his fingers on your foreheads and transported you to a plane you were completely unfamiliar with—now, it is a second home. But you felt the fear of your past self, the sudden influx of knowledge of this place pulsing with magic, the strange feeling in your chest from seeing Viktor in his full glory.
And as he and Jayce spoke, and argued, and finally calmed to a level field, you felt the insurmountable urge to step up to this glorious man. He looked down at you, curious, his hand unconsciously lifting to rest atop your hip. Even in his new form, his muscle memory was still strong. He would always be connected to you.
You cradled his face in your hands. You felt the lives of the world in peril. You felt your own heart racing, your palms sweating, your stomach in your throat. But you leaned up and kissed his lipless form anyways. You knew it would be the last one, and he couldn’t even reciprocate.
At least, until you pulled away. A cracked had formed where your forms had kissed. Then, with an audible snap of metal, it grew. It spread, its spindly arms wrapping around Viktor’s face before shattering the mask. The pieces brilliantly faded and left you staring face-to-face with the true form of the man you fell in love with.
His glorious evolution—how was that compared to your love?
He blinked at you, shocked. You reached up and touched the warmth of his cheek. Jayce stepped beside you and placed his hand on Viktor’s shoulder. Another crack formed. His metallic body fell away at the hands of his closest relationships. And then he fell too, right into your arms.
The golden waters of memory lapped against your ankles, gently guiding you back to the present. You were crying. So was Viktor. Adrenaline from the sheer danger of your kiss still coursed through your body. You came down to reality; you didn’t need the magic anymore. You turned in his arms and hugged him tightly. He pulled you off him, only to desperately grab your jaw and pull you into a kiss he could return.
If you write for women, can I request “…out of love” with Jinx but platonic with reader who Jinx considers a mother figure (maybe reader is with silco romantically). Just like, platonic kiss on the cheek of forehead or something
I write for ALL Arcane characters. Especially god's favorite and most perfect daughter.
“Ta-da!”
Jinx lifted her hands off your eyes. Staring back in the mirror was you with a now rather-splotchy dye job. Your roots hardly held the blue, resulting in a sort of unintentional shadow root, and Jinx had taken it upon herself to blunt-cut some framing bangs. It wasn’t the most fashionable, but it was uniquely her.
And, therefore, you adored it.
You gasped as you turned your head to look at all angles of your glorious Jinx-ification, an unshakable smile spreading across your face. This girl, brought to you by Silco in the pouring rain one horrible night, had changed your life forever. She wasn’t perfect, but you would never fault her for that. She brought a softness into your life that you wanted nothing more than to protect from the horrid events she was destined to live in the undercity. So when she begged you to try out a new hair dye on you, the word ‘no’ seemed to evaporate from your vocabulary. What was your hair to her happiness?
“Whaddya think?” she asked you, leaning down to look at you cheek-to-cheek in the mirror.
“It’s perfect.”
Jinx grinned. You loved seeing it. Sometimes, a smile would elude her for days, and you’d do everything in your power just to bring it back. Fond memories of holding her to your chest as you read to her, sung to her, baked fresh cookies for her flooded your mind. You glowed internally as Jinx beamed outwardly. She danced around your chair, giddy just on your approval, before rounding it to throw her arms around your neck. You hugged her back just as tightly.
She pressed a kiss to your cheek, her lips against your skin for a few tender seconds. Your heart burst.
Can I request “…to gain something” with Silco? If you are not inspired by him, feel free to choose any other character you want!!
Don't worry Anon, I am plenty inspired by Silco. We love a big nose and a big attitude here.
Silco sat swathed in the green of his office. He used that term loosely—it tended to be more of a stage than a place where he got any work done. And with Jinx constantly hanging in the rafters, providing comedic relief after tense exchanges that could only be compared to that of a court jester, the feeling was only expounded. The thought made Silco raise a hand to his face to rub his temples. He had the entirety of the undercity pinned beneath him, yet his own office was nothing more than a circus.
A knock, gentle and almost inaudible. He sighed under his breath, put up his walls, and called for his visitor to come in.
The moment you stepped through the door, those walls came crashing down again. He almost looked relieved—almost—at your interruption. He returned to rubbing his face.
“Not feeling well?” you asked as you sauntered to him, rounded his desk, sat atop it and all his important papers. You knew you were his priority.
“Something like that,” he muttered, his hand moving to rest comfortingly on your thigh.
“I can make it all better,” you purred.
“Not tonight, dear.”
You frowned, genuinely, knowing that he must truly be bothered to turn you down. You reached over and took his cheek in your hand, gently turning his gaze to you.
“What’s the matter?” you nearly whispered.
“Things you shouldn’t have to worry about.”
“I worry about them if it does this to you.”
“My troubles do nothing to me.” His voice had a familiar, sharp edge that cleaved an end into the conversation. You pulled your hand away, hurt, and Silco rubbed his face. “What are you here for?”
Truthfully, you had just wanted to see him. But clearly he wasn’t in the mood.
“Shimmer,” you lied.
“I told you to stop using it. It’ll kill you.”
“That’s rich, coming from you.”
Bang!
Silco slammed his fist atop his desk, his other still covering his eyes but not the scowl scrawled over his lips. An uncomfortable silence settled over the both of you.
“…If I come in here to see you, you get upset. If I come in here not to see you, you also get upset. I forget I’m nothing more than one of your fucking lackeys sometimes.”
You slid off the desk, fully intentioned to leave, but you were stopped by Silco’s hands reaching out and grabbing your waist to stop you. You glared over your shoulder at him.
“Don’t touch me.”
“I’m showing you that I want you here.”
“We’re just going to argue.”
“No. I will give you the Shimmer. And then you can sit here with me, quietly, until I get some work done. Would I let a lackey do that?”
You turned in Silco’s hands, stepped closer. He looked like a king in his chair; but when he was looking up at you like this, reverence just barely hidden in the depths of his eyes, you knew you were his queen.
“…I don’t want the Shimmer.”
“Then come sit.”
You did as you were commanded. You settled your knees beside his hips as you crawled onto his lap. Silco pulled you closer. He slid a hand to the back of your neck, holding the base of your skull, as he guided you into a kiss.
He wasn’t perfect, but you were blissful in knowing you had gained his trust.
synop: you have landed a spot in the university of piltover's prestigious graduate program. you meet two men who will change your paradigm on love forever. a figure, unfamiliar to you now, waits patiently for this to happen.
wc: 3.7k.
includes: modern au. lots of setup for the upcoming chapters. jayce is a big puppy and viktor is a perpetually annoyed cat. no magic—yet.
author's note: happy new year everyone! my gift to you all is a series i've been festering with for the past few weeks. i'd like to get a new chapter out every other week, maybe sooner if my schedule allows. i hope you all enjoy.
masterlist • chapter ii (coming soon) ⇀
Life had taken a delightful turn for the better.
The past few years had been endlessly exhausting. You had your sights set on grad school—an English PhD, no less. You had toiled with the idea long enough before finally deciding to pull the trigger and the splatter of work that came with the shot was nothing to shake a stick at. There were exams to be taken, papers to be written, letters of recommendation to be awkwardly asked. And you had to pay for it somehow on top of it all—shifts at the little mom and pop diner by your apartment were punctuated with exam study books and a crumpled bit of paper with your expenses tallied tip by tip.
You managed to get into one of the top schools in the country: the University of Piltover. You would say you didn’t know how, but you did. You worked hard and it paid off. You landed a teaching fellowship, securing a huge majority of your tuition, and a roommate in one of the campus apartments offered to you. You were dreaming of orange autumns wrapped in a scarf on cobblestone campus walkways, faded sunlight filtering through stained glass library windows, creaky wooden chairs circling ancient lyceums.
It was all laid out before you now. Things were going to be perfect from here on out.
You arrived at your new living space in mid-August, a few weeks before classes started, your rickety car absolutely packed with your precious belongings. Your breaks creaked as you pulled into the driveway outside the little townhouse. The siding was painted a handsome cream to pair with the brick foundation and the ivy that climbed up the sides and front and choked the huge bay windows. A maple tree, verdant in the summer light, sat old and happy and fat in the front yard.
You could hardly kill your engine fast enough. You virtually skipped up to the front door, unlocked it, took a deep breath of your new home base as you stepped in. It was hard to not contain the joyous ichor that dripped from the fruits of your labor. You laughed, did a little dance, oblivious to the far nicer car that was tucking itself beside yours or the very tall, very handsome man that was scaling up the porch steps and through the door—
“Oh, hello,” a timbre voice said bemusedly as it stumbled upon your victory dance in the foyer. You froze, blood rushing up your neck to settle in a nice, tomato red glow on your cheeks and ears as you tried not to gape at this Greek god of man in horror.
“...Oh god. Hi.”
“No, please don’t be embarrassed, I’m the one that stepped in on your celebration,” he said warmly as he stepped forward and offered a huge hand to shake. “Plus, I just really don’t want start off on the wrong foot. I’m Jayce.”
Ah. So this was he. You had been emailing him sporadically, of course, but it was really the university that matched you up. You knew he was an architecture major and... not much else. Neither of you even had profile pictures attached to your school emails, so you had no clue that your roommate was going to be a tall, dark, handsome Superman.
You extended your own hand and shook it as firmly as you could, what with your knees suddenly feeling like a poor attempt at gelatin and the afternoon light haloing his perfect hair a little too brightly.
“I thought you’d be coming a little closer to the start of classes,” you said with a bashful laugh.
“That was the plan, but I have some furniture being shipped that’s coming over the next few days. Plus, y’know, I wanted to… make a good impression, I guess.”
“...On me?” you asked incredulously.
“Well, yeah! We’re gonna be rooming together for at least the rest of the year, if not through our degrees.” He smiled warmly. “I’d like if we at least tolerated each other.”
“...And you figured you’d do that by... getting here early?” you teased.
Jayce’s jaw went slack as he struggled with words for a moment. “Well I—Well, I was gonna buy my textbooks and have them all stacked up on the counter so you’d see what I was taking and how sm—y’know what, never mind.”
You were already laughing and he was already laughing, and the horror of dancing like nobody was watching when, indeed, someone was watching was already fading.
“Consider a good impression made, Jayce. No need to do all that.”
You could virtually see an invisible tail start wagging, a pair of floppy ears perking up at your words. You almost wanted to reach out and pet the faultless mop of hair on his head.
“Well, I still want to live up to that good impression! You just got here, right? I mean, I can still see the boxes strapped to the top of your car. Let me help you unpack!” he immediately offered.
“No, you just got here too, that’s really not necessary—” But he was already bounding out the door before you could say no. Not that you were going to run after him and adamantly refuse—some of those boxes were more than difficult just to lift into your car. But you found yourself at his heels anyway, insisting that he take his own stuff in first.
“No, really, it’s okay! It’s just my clothes and some of my weights. Holy shit, you packed a lotta stuff in this tiny thing!”
“That’s what she said,” you immediately shot back. Jayce just lit up.
“That is what she said! And here I was, all worried we wouldn’t get along!”
You popped open the trunk and you began your work. Jayce, naturally, made it look like child’s play with the way he stacked boxes to carry two, three at a time without breaking a sweat. You were content with carrying just the one. Until that one particularly difficult box—filled to the brim with books that wouldn’t fit anywhere else—stared up at you, innocently, from the back of your car.
You didn’t want to look like a wuss, or to even ask your roommate for more help than he had already so graciously offered. So you took a deep breath, got a good grip on the sides, lifted, and immediately began to fall backwards.
“Woah, careful there!”
Your back met the soft cushion of Jayce’s chest. Two huge arms came out to catch you as well, wrapping around your shoulders as he bore your weight and helped you regain your balance. Up this close, you caught a whiff of bergamot and spices—a delicious-smelling cologne he had draped himself in. Of fucking course he wears really nice cologne.
“Here, let me.”
His hand slid to rest on your back to ensure you’d stay upright as he rounded you, only leaving your body to bear the brunt of the box. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, and you could feel another rush of blood flushing your face.
“God, thanks. I dunno what I’d do if you weren’t here.”
“Eat asphalt?” he replied cheekily, to which you threw him a playful glare and pushed him onwards to the house.
“Shut up! You’re taking that to your grave!”
“Am I taking the dancing too?”
“Shut up!”
You followed Jayce, sheepish and endeared, as he laughed warmly at your apparent embarrassment.
“Aw c’mon, you’ll be laughing with me about all this by the time we move out!”
You’ve barely known the guy for five minutes, but the thought of going through all of grad school living with him and suddenly moving away made your heart twist sadly. He seemed like a good guy, someone you were actually excited to get to know, someone you’d be happy to spend these upcoming years with. Preemptive grief was a bitch.
“Whatever,” you managed to grumble out, lightheartedly enough for him to not catch onto your overly-sentimental train of thought.
With all your boxes at least inside the house, the two of you looked over the pile that sat patiently at the bottom of the stairs. Your bedroom, of course, was up the flight.
You looked at him wearily. He looked back and smiled.
“Lunch?” he asked.
“Lunch,” you agreed.
Jayce turned out to be a wonderful companion to spend the weeks leading up to classes with. You learned he came from a known engineering family but was here on the word of one of the school board’s council members: Cassandra Kiramman. The name made you raise your eyebrows, but he insisted it was really her daughter, Caitlyn, that made the relationship worth mentioning. He was childhood friends with her and that fact certainly didn’t make jealousy stab green through your chest.
Nonetheless, you and Jayce spent the upcoming days prepping for rigorous mental work. Mostly. There was plenty of studying completed, but you quickly learned Jayce was the type of guy to drag you off as soon as something more interesting made itself known. Movies that you just had to watch, groceries you just had to get right this very second, parties you just had to join—hell, you even met Caitlyn on one of his whims. (You had nothing to worry about between her and Jayce. By the time you were dragging him from the party, she was snogging the face off some girl with a terrible pink undercut.)
It felt weirdly strange leaving the apartment without him. It was your first day of classes and this was always how it played out in your head; but Jayce had a way of tunneling into your consciousness and making you feel as if he had always been there, waking you up with the extra eggs he “accidentally” cooked before he peeled off for the gym, hooking his finger over the top of your phone when he wanted your attention, already recommending books to you left and right.
You chewed on the inside of your cheek as you tried not to smile. It was all a little obvious, right? He hadn’t mentioned a partner or romantic relationship of any kind and he was being otherwise… overtly boyfriend-ish. It certainly felt like he was courting you.
Your mind wouldn’t allow you the happiness of that for too long. He was probably just super friendly. You saw the way he looked at other girls, treated them just like you—like they were his entire world and there was nothing else he’d rather be doing. That was just it. He was exceedingly kind—to everyone. You weren’t special. Certainly not to someone you only knew for a handful of weeks. It was best to keep your hopes and imagination in check before getting stung. A guy like him was a perfect catch.
You? You subconsciously pulled your finger away from your mouth, refusing to acknowledge the nail you were biting. Or the chipped nail polish you hadn’t bothered to reapply since arriving at your apartment.
You spent the rest of your walk to class consuming yourself with more pleasant thoughts: how nice your room was shaping up, all the new supplies you had splurged on to make studying a little more appetizing, all the new people with similar passions you’d connect with. Your life retook the rose-tinted film again. You were living your dream.
You reached the English building with plenty of time to spare. It was a beautiful sight, inside and out; tall, gleaming windows, masterful stonework, gilded details that shone proudly in the morning sun. You counted your lucky stars ten times over as you opened the main doors and filed in with the other early birds. The interior managed to feel more like a palace than a place of study with the absurdly high ceilings and grand arches, but there were still plenty of nooks where students had taken up reading and crannies where other students were gossiping. You narrowly avoided stepping on a piece of gum.
Ah, a whiff of normalcy in this foreign land of rich kids and rich land. Jayce was wonderful and all, but people born with a silver spoon in their mouth always had a way of being… off-putting to you. They always seemed just a little too nonchalant about life.
You continued on, looking at the map you printed just to make sure you were going the right way. You already knew, from having taken the route preemptively, but it felt good to visualize the arrow you had drawn guiding you along like those little quest helpers in MMOs. You smiled to yourself at the thought and continued until you made it to a set of huge doors leading to the largest lecture hall in the building.
Your first class was with Dr. Heimerdinger, a well-known professor more in physics and engineering than in your side of academia; but he was also well-versed in philosophy and ethics, which was what you were taking to ease yourself into the heavy course load of grad school. There were at least a hundred other students who were doing the same thing, of course, but a much larger portion of them were just genuine fans of Heimerdinger’s work. He had published a great many books that took high-concept math and physics and digested them for the layman, making him not only a spokesperson to the general public for wilder scientific concepts but a beloved figure to those who wished they could take a similar place in society. He was intelligent, charismatic, and flippantly folksy. What wasn’t there to love?
You appreciated his books on the level of language they used, but not much past it. You were here for linguistics, literature; to you, these contained the realm of math—for what would math be if one didn’t have the language to express it?—and were therefore more worthwhile expenditures. Heimerdinger had a few fun interviews that you had enjoyed, but that didn’t push you into the realm of awe when you saw him, also early, when you stepped into the hall.
What did catch your eye was the dark-haired man speaking with him. He was far taller—though, in the case of Heimerdinger, that wasn’t a difficult feat—and leaned casually on a cane; but when his amber eyes caught yours, you couldn’t help the trill of excitement that flashed through your stomach. He was smartly dressed and exceedingly handsome. He had an air of someone who knew he belonged there. All of this expounded the fluttering in your stomach, the blush that rose to your cheeks, the way you scuttled past the desk towards a chair near the front of the hall.
There were a few others who were now dotting the Colosseum-style seats, but you felt the man’s gaze follow you and settle as you did. You met them again, to feel that flash of attraction. You weren’t sure it was mutual, but his hooded eyes lingered on you before returning to your professor.
Now that was a man that could distract you from Jayce. A crush was just about the only thing potent enough to distract from, well, another crush. While one was virtually demanding your attention like a golden retriever puppy, it was equally as fun to burn slowly.
Students began to pour in as the class’ beginning time drew near. You had long set up your laptop and notebook, neatly assigned the date at the top of your paper, had the day-one presentation pulled up on your screen; you were now preoccupied with a worn paperback that had survived both your high school and college years. It brought a comforting slice of familiarity when you needed it most.
But you were mostly just using it to stop yourself from looking at the handsome stranger still chatting with Heimerdinger. His hair defied the laws of physics. In fact, it was making you a little jealous; just how the hell did he get perfect, beachy waves like that?
“Good morning everyone!”
Heimerdinger’s pleasantly squeaky voice earned the immediate, rapt attention of the entire hall. You supposed that was precisely the measure of someone’s power—just how quickly they could command a room.
“I’m so very glad you could all make it! We’ll start class in a few minutes. Make sure you have a notebook and your brains at the ready! Joining us today is my assistant, Viktor. He’s not my TA, so don’t address him as such—he will be contributing to future lectures just as much as I.”
Viktor.
The name immediately stuck in your memory. You gazed over to him, just as you were sure hundreds of other eyes did; but that amber gaze was only returned to you. He held it, just for a moment, before the professor was speaking again and had regained control of everyone’s attention.
You knew day-one classes were going to be a breeze and Heimerdinger was thankfully no exception. He went over the syllabus, his expectations, how this class was situated in the overarching graduate program, and his long, long list of philosophy books that were “recommended” (but totally implied to be mandatory so as to not be the object of his academic ire).
Class otherwise went off with a hitch, though something—other than the man grading papers quietly at the furthest end of the lecture hall—caught your attention. A quote, misworded and misattributed, soiled a slide on Heimerdinger’s presentation. You scribbled it down in your notebook. You doubted you’d have the guts to talk to a master like your professor himself, but…
You mentally smiled like the fucking Grinch.
Class wrapped up, and you virtually skipped down the steps to the front of the hall. While a large flock of freshmen surrounded Heimerdinger, asking for autographs or gushing praise, you were the only one to break off for his assistant. He was already rising from his seat, but he stopped in his tracks when he realized you were beelining towards him, fully intent on starting a conversation.
“Yes?” he asked, voice low and thick with an accent you couldn’t quite place.
“Viktor, right?”
“That’s correct. Who am I speaking to, exactly?”
You babbled your name as you side-eyed your professor, hardly distinguishable from the crowd of awed students. “But that’s really not important. I, uh… I think I caught a mistake in Dr. Heimerdinger’s presentation.”
Viktor’s eyebrows raised dramatically. “A mistake? On day one? You must be very confident to make a claim like that.”
“I am,” you insisted. You opened your bag, fumbled through it to break your notebook free.
“Then speak with Heimerdinger.”
You gaped for a moment, enough for him to start headway towards the exit without so much as a wave goodbye.
“I—Well, hold on!” you gasped, catching up with him as you flipped to the page where you wrote your note. “There’s a reason I came to you. First of all, he has more fangirls than a boy band.”
Viktor let out a quiet chuckle. He wasn’t convinced you were much more than a bright-eyed, bushy-tailed first-year grad student that was attempting to use him to get to his boss. But your comment was funny, he’d give you that.
With his cold exterior melted, just enough to give you confidence, you continued.
“Secondly, I like corroboration. What would academia be if people published journals with zero peer review or references? Little more than fairy tale.” You gestured loosely. “A nice thought, but nothing to hold it down in reality. It also means that the experienced are subject to the same rules as the inexperienced. Basic quote credentials included.”
Viktor adjusted the black frames on his nose, as if he was actually seeing you for the first time. He leaned heavily on his cane as you both stopped before the exit. You assumed he was thinking of something to say until he, with apparent annoyance, tapped the door with his cane.
“Oh shit!” you gasped, pushing the heavy thing open for him as you began to blush. “I’m so sorry!”
When he passed by you, his indignation had warmed to a sort of mischievous smile.
“What was that about being inexperienced?” he teased.
“I—Well, to be totally fair, I was trying to have a conversation! Y’know, a thing that usually happens when two people talk?” You crossed your arms, embarrassed. “I wasn’t really paying attention to walking.”
“I can’t really say the same,” he replied, looking down at his cane. The casualness of his comment caught you off-guard, but it was only a moment before you both shared a laugh.
“See? Nothing to get so flustered about,” Viktor virtually purred at you. You swear it was just his accent, but no amount of justification or explanation was going to make that flash of attraction stop pulsing through you. “I apologize for leaving you hanging. I do believe we share a similar point of view—after all, Heimerdinger hired me as his assistant for a reason.”
You looked at him, a little befuddled. “Just to catch his mistakes?”
“Ehh…” He tilted his head side to side as he searched for words. “That makes him sound bad, and me sound rather useless. We catch each other’s mistakes, no? Peer review, as you said yourself.”
“Why be his assistant then, if you’re on the same level?”
“Because experienced and inexperienced still play by the same rules,” he replied with a knowing smirk.
“...Touché,” you replied, unable to help the smile growing across your face.
“Now, do tell of this mistake you found. I’m more inclined to believe you after that little spiel.”
“That’s a little hypocritical to say, after admitting you’re inexperienced yourself.”
“I’m not a first-year.” He replied with a smile that belied how he was teasing you once again. Neither of you could help the smiles creeping onto your faces.
“Ohhhhh, I see, so there’s a double standard.”
“Mm… yes, exactly. Now you’re starting to get it.”
While you were concerned with mentally keeping up with Viktor and trying to not drown in your attraction to him, a dark figure tagged behind you, clouded in a cluster of students. It carried a book, not to blend in. It was fated to carry this weight.
images used: fanart by wr0wn • star divider • scribble divider
this is a love story. but more importantly, this is a story about your love, your magic, and your hand in the fate of the world.
pairing: jayvik x reader (jayce x viktor x reader).
rating: eventually 18+ so minors, you know the drill. DNI.
synop: after being accepted into one of the world's most renowned graduate programs, you are swept off your feet by two men, a tidal wave of coursework, and a single book that you were fated to change the world with.
𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐢: 𝐦𝐞𝐞𝐭-𝐜𝐮𝐭𝐞𝐬
you have landed a spot in the university of piltover's prestigious graduate program. you meet two men who will change your paradigm on love forever. a figure, unfamiliar to you now, waits patiently for this to happen.
Fear not friends, I am not dead! I have an exciting new series coming soon for the new year, one that I've been fleshing out for the past few weeks to get the main plot points down and ready for the best reading experience. It will be a JayVik x Reader as I can't get either of them out of my head. I am extremely excited to get it posted for you all!
loveee reading multiple fics by the same author and seeing little nods and references among them like yes! this is a multiverse to me!!!! i giggle and squeal everytime i catch a reference!!!!!!!!
Your writing is genuinely the best thing I’ve seen in months, please never die
thank you very very much, and i promise i won't be doing that anytime soon. life is just busy for me, so there may be long waits between works. but i can assure you that time is well-spent making sure everything hits just the way it needs to.
synop: viktor is upset with you. the walls are closing in on your identity. you have nowhere to turn but away.
wc: 2.4k.
request from anon: Your Viktor X mage reader is so GOOD!!! It made me so happy considering that my oc is a mage and works with Viktor and Jayce!
If you have time, could you maybe write something in the same scenario (reader being a mage, working with the boys on Hextech + dating Viktor) but where the reader had been hiding that they're a mage and now they have to confess it to the boys and explain why they understand the arcane so unusually well?
So sorry if this is worded badly, and if you don't want to write it that's perfectly fine! Have a great day/night!!
-🦖
includes: hurt/comfort. happy (?) ending.
author's note: i do apologize that i couldn't fit jayce into here, but i think we all know he'd just wag his tail and perk his ears up and love you all the same. (...puppy-coded jayce x reader fic, anyone?)
“It’s almost as if you already know how this all works.”
Viktor’s words made you freeze.
Hextech was beginning to reek with magic. There were jumps in logic that were far too great for science; it was you, mucking up information, crafting runes, testing things that made no sense to a non-magical mind, one that didn’t possess your internal compass. Viktor and Jayce were along for the ride at the beginning, but the explosive success of the Hexgates and the novelty of the technology’s potential was fading into careful study—a form of work that would expose your abilities and leave you vulnerable to accusations like Viktor’s.
But you didn’t already know how it all worked. Magic was an unknowable thing; it was a plane above you, surging through you in ways you’d never fully understand, not within your lifetime. You were working merely off these fleeting moments where magic, instead of your mind or even your heart, guided you. Magic told you where to step—it didn’t tell you why, it didn’t bother to explain, and it most certainly didn’t care how it appeared to the rest of the world.
It was only a matter of time before your “genius” was seen more as prescience. You no longer had a simple knack for the arcane. You were now a hostile guard of secrets that would otherwise better the world. It just broke your heart that it was Viktor who saw through it first. That he’d have to be the first to be bear your burden.
His words bit with little subtlety. It was late. Desk lamps glowed a harsh white, washing out his already pallor skin and exacerbating the bags hanging beneath his eyes. You didn’t know if he already suspected your abilities, but you now knew he most certainly noticed how you stumbled through every technicality yet were still, always, ten steps ahead of him.
Maybe it was jealousy, maybe it was sleep deprivation, maybe you were looking too far into it all. But you could only respond with nothing. Your mouth hung agape for a moment before snapping shut. You fled the lab. He didn’t follow.
You retreated to the university’s sprawling library; it was too cold for the garden and too late for anywhere else. You buried yourself in books and words when the world became unbearable but, tonight, fatigue and despair clouded your ability to focus. You found yourself crying in a study nook instead.
Somehow, in your attempt to protect the one you loved most, you found yourself driving a wedge between you instead. It sickened you.
“My, this isn’t what the library is for!”
You weren't sure how much time had passed before Heimerdinger’s cheerful voice chirped out beside your chair; a moment later, you heard him scuttle into the chaise beside you. You didn’t bother to look.
“Whatever is the matter, dear?”
You took a shaky breath as more tears escaped you. The Yordle clicked his tongue and reached into his coat pocket. After retrieving the handkerchief folded neatly inside, he reached out and passed it to you. You gave him a grateful look as you used it to dry your face.
You sniffled. He waited patiently.
“I… I fear I may not be able to work on Hextech anymore.”
“Oh, my—I understand your upset now. Why do you think that?”
“I just…” Your breath fluttered. “I think I’m causing an impasse. And I would rather Viktor and Jayce work on it alone instead of it being abandoned altogether.”
“You three are inseparable,” Heimerdinger insisted. “What in the world could you be doing that would call for such a drastic measure?”
You sobbed. “I… I can’t explain.”
“Surely it’s not your relationship with Viktor.”
“No, absolutely not,” you insisted firmly. “This… This would be a decision I’d make to save that. He and Hextech mean more to me than anything. Even my own participation.”
A quiet fell over you two—not uncomfortable, yet not devoid of thought either.
“...May I be honest with you, my dear?”
You nodded, finally looking over at him.
“I know you’re a mage.”
The blood drained from your body and the world shuddered upside down. You gaped at him in dread. The Yordle merely chuckled.
“Don’t be so worried—if I believed you were a threat, I would’ve turned you in long ago. But I have no reason to, nor any desire to.”
You allowed yourself to calm. A Council Member knowing was the worst possible scenario—but Heimerdinger had a soft spot for you in addition to thousands of years of experience. Fate graced you, of all people in all possible times, with magic. You were benevolent, incredibly sharp, and ambitious—and if there was anyone the Yordle believed should wield the arcane, it would be someone like you.
“...How did you find out?”
“Viktor and Jayce are not the only ones who have noticed the leaps you make in your studies.”
You nodded weakly. “...What’s going to happen to me?”
“Nothing at all, dear. I’ll admit, I was quite fearful when I put the pieces together. After all, magic is a very dangerous thing—even an inexperienced or feeble mage holds far more power than any non-user. Yet I cannot deny the work you have done for the world through Hextech. You have proven your worth, your passion, and your goodness. I don’t believe the public should know you’re a mage, for obvious reasons, but I do believe you have a duty to continue your research. Your abilities give you an invaluable advantage.”
You sniffled. “But Viktor… I fear he’s building up resentment because of that. I can’t… I can’t keep doing that to him, sir.”
“I have lived a very, very long life—trust me when I say a relationship such as yours is a true marvel. His resentment is understandable, but it is a drop of water in the ocean of adoration he has for you. Severing your ties to Hextech will only summon a storm. You must tell him the truth.”
“What if he hates me for it?”
“My dear, he leaves the lab when you merely ask him to. He’s going to marry you.”
You were exhausted, but you still ran back to the lab. The moon yawned from behind the windows over an empty chair and a desk in disarray. Viktor was upset with you, so you knew he wouldn’t be home—which left a single place he could possibly be.
Viktor sat on the ledge of the maintenance shaft. His eyes hung heavy but his mind whirred as he played the way you left the lab, defeated, over and over against his skull. He knew he shouldn’t have spoken to you like that. You were the love of his life, his irreplaceable partner in Hextech, and his closest friend. He had frustrations, naturally, but he allowed them to escape their leash and lash out at you. Then, once they had finished with you, they turned and began to gnaw on him.
Your hand was warm on his shoulder. He knew it was you immediately. He turned to meet your gaze, expression somber, hand jumping to yours.
“Miláčku,” he breathed, “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” you murmured as you settled beside him. You squeezed his hand, rested your head on his shoulder. A wave of relief washed over him. “I’m sorry too.”
“You’ve done nothing wrong.”
“No, I have. I’ve been keeping something important from you.”
You opened your free hand. A single rune nestled in your palm. Viktor gave you a confused look.
“A rune? I don’t understand—”
Without so much as the utterance of a word, the wave of a gesture, or any visible exertion of effort whatsoever, the stone began to glow a familiar blue as it lifted itself from your skin. It levitated, revolving slowly, as Viktor finally grasped what was happening.
“...You’re a mage,” he whispered. The truth shifted the air. You nodded as your hand began to shake. Your fear cleaved your connection with the arcane and the rune fell, lifeless, back into your hand.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” His words were clipped. Panic made you defensive. Disagreements were common in science, but you and Viktor rarely had them outside the lab doors. The irregularity of this, compounded with the danger of magic and fatigue, made you both a little more upset than you should’ve been.
“If it wasn’t obvious, my kind isn’t exactly skipping through meadows hand-in-hand with non-users, Viktor.”
“The three of us are trying to change the world’s view on magic. You should’ve told Jayce and I much sooner—think of what we could’ve done if we knew this!"
Your head ripped off his shoulder to glare at him. “Telling you would’ve done nothing but put you in danger!”
“We could’ve made progress ten times faster!”
"This isn't about morals or philosophy, Viktor—this is life and death! That progress would be meaningless if it meant I had even a chance of losing you!"
Viktor always feared if he did not charge forward with perfect efficiency he would wither away, his life unimportant and impactless. But your words rung out in the night, struck Viktor and resonated through his body. Instantaneously, his world shifted. He saw the way you regarded him, how you held him as the pinnacle of your life. Even above Hextech. Above progress. You were scared. You cared about Hextech just as greatly as him; but what terrified you enough to conceal a crucial face of your own identity, to endure his acerbic comments, to consider abandoning your greatest passion, was not the discovery of your abilities or the destruction of your work.
It was the potential loss of him that came with it.
He finally understood. He saw the world through your eyes. He had been picking evolution over you, chasing importance and impact when he already had it cradled in his hands. He had become spiteful of the person he loved most dearly because you were making more progress. In that moment, he chose the path of his life.
He chose you. For what was progress to an empty man?
“...You would be worth dying for.”
The softness of Viktor’s voice made the anger in your shoulders and face immediately fall away; the actual statement made your heart tear apart. He would keep your secret even if it meant death upon discovery. He would forever share your burden.
You both immediately reached for each other. Viktor's hands took your face, pulling you to him with urgency as he kissed you fiercely. Your hands immediately ran up his chest, the sides of his neck, into the short hair at the nape, then fully into his locks. He snaked an arm around your middle to pull you flush against him; the mention of death only served to burn this moment in his memory. Should the worst happen, should you get caught and he lost you, he’d always remember the way your skin felt against his, how you kissed him like he mattered, how you felt like a well-loved puzzle piece against his own. There was no knowing where he ended and you began, and it terrified him how much he loved it, how he squeezed you closer to exacerbate it.
You only parted when your lungs burned. Panting, you shared breaths and atoms. Viktor bumped his forehead against yours and looked up at you with that gorgeous amber gaze. You were tearing up.
"I meant it," he murmured. Hands still on your cheeks, he thumbed the corners of your eyes, wanting to take the pain before it even started. He held you with more care than his runes, his inventions, his life's work. He held you in the way a priest cradled his scripture.
“Please don’t go doing that,” you murmured.
“Only if you don’t either.”
"I promise."
A quiet tension still scintillated in the air. “...I’m sorry for raising my voice at you. And for the back-handed comments. And accusing you of slowing down our progress.”
You couldn't help but laugh softly. “With a rap sheet like that I should quit anyways.”
“...You were going to quit?”
“Vik, I… The danger of being a mage—you were days from finding out. You were frustrated all the time and I was only dividing us further.”
“No, no more thinking like that.” He grabbed your arms, squeezed them. “You were not the reason for any of this. Hextech is our life’s work, and I can only hope that we continue on it until we die hunched over our papers; but I would give it all up to keep you at my side.”
“You don’t mean that, V.”
“What in the world makes you believe I don’t?” he asked incredulously, leaning in to catch your eyes again. His expression was earnest, adoring, nearly puppy-like from the sheer intensity of his concern.
“I—that’s just a very romantic statement.”
“You believe I’d die for you, but not that I’d give up Hextech for you? Surely you aren’t jealous of our creation.”
A beat. You both smiled. The tension broke with it, and the two of you devolved into laughter. The sound of it made Viktor’s heart just soar. The catharsis of an invention that finally worked, finishing a long book, understanding some complex idea—none of it compared to the way your voice rang out like bells when he made you laugh. Viktor nuzzled his nose beside yours. You reached up, thumbing his bottom lip.
“I'm not jealous. I just know neither of us could survive without Hextech in our lives.”
“Mm, I'm sure we’d find a way to pass the time.”
Viktor closed the gap between your lips again. You both smiled, kissing each other sleepily, unaware of just how prescient your words knelled.
