the world around lex is muffled , sounds barely registering as she walks out into the waiting room. she doesn't even see if ethan anyone is waiting for her , going through the motions of walking back over to reception. the woman working is kind as she struggles to make sense of her words , eyes unfocused , ears buzzing. over her shoulder , lex's bag hangs limply. in her hand , a crumpled list the doctor had given her. after the tests confirmed his suspisions. after lex has been so sure he was wrong. somehow , she answers the questions now , talking about a payment plan -- she doesn't have it in her now to reach out and get the cash -- and confirming the follow-up appointment with the referred doctor. it's all so... clinical. which yeah , duh , but it helps in a way. makes the news less real , less scary , allows for lex to float for just a little longer.
fuck , she's tired. her elbow is sore from attempting to catch her fall back in the diner. her head is pounding and her gut-- well , she doesn't want to think about that general part of her body. not quite yet. not until she figures out how she actually feels about what's happening. she didn't plan this. any of this. not a single fucking thing in her life has ever been planned , why did she think something like this would be any different ? the receptionist reminds her that there's a line. lex nods and walks away , turning around and finally noticing that he's there waiting. of course he is. ethan's always there when she needs him most -- even when she doesn't think she does. except the last time.
walking towards @forwardmoved , it's as though lex is moving through water -- every muscle in her body straining. her skull feels like it's closing in on her brain , a pressure growing growing growing. briefly , she wonders how he knew she was here , but then a hazey memory surfaces of janet , her coworker , on the phone. it makes sense. she did pass out at work.
lex blinks. she's in front of him. drained and probably looking like a goddamn mess. still , there's a warmth that can't be numbed -- even when all other sensations are. she loves him so much.
" can we get the fuck outta here ? " her voice is a soft crackle , exhaustion sunk eyes looking up to meet his concerned gaze. somewhere between her words , the hand not holding the doctor's orders finds his , fingers linking. anchoring her back to some sort of reality. " please ? "
Every time I listen the english cover of Rolling Girl by Will Stetson, I remember Stan thanks to "Old Habits Die Hard" and "What If Ford Kicked Stan Out Immediately?".
ooooh im flattered hehe <3 glad you like my writing anon. And also, that's cool!! :DDDD
what about some random dude out in public sees viktor’s cane and limp and tells reader he could show her what it’s like to be with a ‘real man.’ back home, viktor shows her just what a real man can do (wink wink)
-Aaaah, intriguing. *runs hands together* I've never written for Viktor but! I do also love him, and I'll do my best here. :)
Viktor x fem!reader (NSFW! 18+ only!!)
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"Can you believe they mixed up the Acacia and Acaena genuses? I mean, I understand they're similarly spelled but honestly..."
"Well, not everyone is as passionate and sharp-eyed as you, dear."
Stars twinkle above in the blue-purple evening skies, the rain shower from earlier making the cobblestones shine under the light from streetlamps and windows as you walk arm-in-arm with Viktor down a shop-lined street. Having both been cooped up in your respective labs for the greater part of a week and not having time to see each other, you'd finally managed to find said time (and managed to pry him away from his desk) to head out on a much-needed date.
You'd heard about an upcoming exhibition on plants, flowers and their various adaptations to different environments at the largest and nicest museum in Piltover, and being an enthusiastic botanist you couldn't pass up the chance. When you'd suggested the idea Viktor had been...less enthused yet still intrigued; perhaps this would be a welcome distraction from his own intense schedule, a breath of fresh air to help him refocus. Not to mention, spending an evening with you was a delightful idea in itself.
"One would think that, being a scientific institution, they would make certain displays were correctly labeled before it opened. What if people learned the wrong plant names and made a fool of themselves? Or which would be pleasant in your home and which would release revolting smelling pollen?!" you continue with self-assured indignation.
A bemused, teasing smile tugs at Viktor's mouth, "What indeed. Goodness it would be a shame if someone walked into their kitchen to find it ruined by a houseplant. Truly a tragedy."
"Very funny, Viktor." you dryly reply, then pause suddenly, gently pulling your arm from his and gazing forlornly at your feet. He stops as well, eyebrow raised in question and you sigh, "I'm...sorry I get so...into my field. I know it's not your thing."
He hums, shifting his weight and giving his cane a few thoughtful taps on the ground, then points to a nearby planter overflowing with red and pink blooms, "What are those flowers called?"
"They're begonias...?" you reply, mildly confused.
"Ah, see, without you I might never have known that," he turns to look at you, "But now I do. The point is, though our passions and fields of study are different, it doesn't mean we can't appreciate and even learn from each other's," his lips quirk up in a small smile, slender fingers on your chin to tilt your face upward and you almost have to stop yourself from kissing him right then, "Sometimes looking at different things, or the same from a new angle, affords you a better understanding and love for them."
Touched, you break into a shy yet beaming grin, simultaneously hating and loving how easily he could make your face warm and heart flutter. You lean forward enough to bump your nose against his with a tiny huff of a laugh.
"How dare you make me blush like a smitten teenager...but thank you..."
He tilts his head ever so much, a silent signal and you do the same, your lips finally meeting with the softest touch and you swear you could melt to join the puddles in the cobblestones below. Pulling away, he moves to take your arm again and you both resume walking, chatting more about the exhibit and Viktor's newest discoveries with his own research.
A few minutes later, among the many small shops you pass a bakery and patisserie, it's windows bordered with tiny lights and displaying a neatly written sign declaring a '50% off sale on our famous macaroons!'
"I've actually never had a macaroon." you muse aloud, and Viktor shrugs, "Nor have I."
An idea grabs hold and you grin, telling him with a quick peck on the cheek you'll 'be right back!' and pull away to slip inside. Viktor shakes his head lightly with another crooked smile, then pulls a book from his coat pocket and steps off more out of the way to await.
Mere minutes later, you emerge cradling a neatly folded white paper bag containing four assorted flavors-in your enthusiasm you'd forgotten to ask Viktor what sort he may like-when you pass an all-too-familiar figure just entering the shop, who does a double-take and smirks, faking surprise.
"Ah, we meet again, miss." he says coolly, his voice like velvet and yet sandpaper.
Oh no. Your smile and stomach drop as you remember dealing with him a mere couple hours before at the very exhibit you and Viktor had recently left; he'd approached you when you'd wandered away from your date for a moment to more closely inspect a display, asking if you'd like to join him for drinks...and it had taken several increasingly curt refusals before he'd begrudgingly given up.
"That offer still stands, you know," he continues with a clumsy bow, "I would love to show such a lovely creature a lovely time..."
"As I've already stated, several times if I recall, I'm not interested, and happily spoken for thank you-" close to him as you are, you're able to catch the whiff of alcohol on his breath and clothes; apparently he'd already started without you and your nose wrinkles, "And it seems my company wasn't needed for your inebriation anyway. Good night."
Without waiting you turn on your heel and stalk back to Viktor, your heart instantly at ease when he looks up-then his expression shifts as his eyes dart behind you, and you glance to see you, unfortunately, had a tag along. Reaching Viktor you immediately link your arm with his and spin to face the absolute buffoon who it seemed was more determined than you thought.
"Erm, who...?" wonders Viktor aloud, catching your gaze as he slips the book back into his pocket.
That gaze then settles fiercely on the man, silently warning him to leave, "He asked if I wished to join him. I politely declined. Multiple times. Let's go, darling."
The man takes a quick step to the side, blocking your paths. His face has warped from a cool yet polite smile to one of irritable disgust as he suddenly scans Viktor up and down, noting his slender frame, cane and slightly unsteady gait. Viktor glowers back at him, as much for your sake as his own, knowing exactly what the man was thinking.
Unable or unwilling to suppress a sarcastic laugh the man scoffs, "Really now? You would choose him, this frail thing, over someone like myself? Goodness my sweet, you're beautiful and vibrant! Surely you can find a real man to attach yourself to! Luckily for you," he tugs on his lapels and tosses you a wink, "I'm more than happy to show you what it's like to be with a real man..."
You feel your rage bubble up so swiftly it steals your voice for a moment, but just as you open your mouth, Viktor lays his hand across your arm reassuringly before standing up tall, a cold fire in his eyes and voice steely, "In my experience, sir, I've always observed that those who feel it necessary to declare themselves 'real men' with the most conviction are often, ironically, farthest from it."
The silence that follows is deafening, as the man's face reddens from indignation and fury. It takes much of your self-control not to laugh at the sight, and without another word you and Viktor quickly step around him and vanish into the crowd.
-When you two finally reach your humble but cozy apartment, you were both chuckling about the whole situation, though you were still fuming as well. You toss your coat over a chair, kick off your high-heeled shoes and stalk to your kitchenette to prep some tea, having to move a tray of seedlings you'd placed on the stovetop earlier.
"The sheer audacity-!" you huff, grabbing two mugs from a cupboard, "Who does he think he is?! Pestering me and insulting you! What an oaf."
Viktor has, meanwhile, settled himself into a cushion covered dining chair and rests his chin on his knuckles as he watches you bustle about. Observing you work, whether in your greenhouse lab or here, is something he always enjoys; your quick, graceful movements almost like a dance, he realizes. He smiles, remembering what he'd said earlier about appreciating different ways of looking at things.
Bringing over both your steaming, fragrant mugs on a small tray with proper accompaniments and a plate containing the macaroons you set the lot on the table and flop into a high back wicker chair next to him, still mumbling about what the man had said to Viktor and move to prep your tea.
At last you register him watching you, a bemused smile tugging at his mouth and wonder, "What?"
"It seems you're more upset by this matter than myself."
"Well how could I not be upset after what he said to you? Insinuating you're somehow lesser than him just because you need a cane. If ever we see him again you should see how he would like it stuck in certain places."
Viktor snorts out a laugh, then gestures to your leg, and you gracefully lift it to rest your ankle across his knee as he begins to massage the muscles of your foot and calf with one slender hand, the other holding his mug, "No, no, that would be terrible, and besides I like this one..." a mischievous smirk tugs at his mouth, "Perhaps we'll find a more suitable item instead."
You both share a devious laugh, turning the conversation then to other topics, sipping your tea and enjoying this treasured, all-too-brief time together. Lazily, you stretch out the leg Viktor was still absently massaging with a contented sigh, "Thnak you again for this, love. It's so wonderfully soothing..."
As you stretch, your dress slips, sliding down your legs so far your upper thighs are fully exposed, a tantalizing glimpse of the garter straps that hold your stockings and lace-edged panties just visible. Viktor's sharp eyes do not fail to notice, and a jolt of heat courses through him to settle in his core, spreading to other areas and words are suddenly harder to grasp. The ever-constant analytical portion of his mind turns this over, pondering why his reaction is so strong and quickly finds the answer; your intellect and passion for knowledge has been on full display tonight, as well as your ferocity and unwillingness to roll over and let injustices toward things or people you care about stand. All of these are things he finds irresistibly magnetic about you, and though he dared not admit it aloud, quite arousing. Those coupled with the lack of any time for...intimate activity lately and now abrutply finding your negligee on display combine to temporarily muddle his senses.
You can't help but notice his silence, nor the way his cheeks and ears redden or the sudden flash in his golden eyes.
"What is it-oh, goodness-" you ask then stammer upon glancing down and seeing the state you're in. You reach to pull your dress back into place when his hand shoots forward and covers yours, holding it fast. His skin is so warm, and his thumb rubs small circles on your inner thigh; between his touch and the intensity of his gaze you feel a shiver dance up your spine. The mood in the air between the both of you shifts, and you barely resist biting your lip at the anticipation of what that gaze promised.
"What's all this about?" you smirk, full well recognizing the suggestive gleam in his eyes and welcoming what came with it but playing coyly innocent.
He huffs out a small laugh and answers in a low tone, "It just occurred to me what would have been, perhaps, an even better answer for that bastard..." just as slowly, he moves himself off his chair to kneel in front of you, gliding his hands up both your legs until they rest against your hips, enjoying your ever reddening face as you realize his intentions, "A real man is one who loves and appreciates his partner, one who helps and supports them..." his lips graze the inside of your thigh, thumb gliding under the edge of your panties as he moves your legs apart more and you let out a sound somewhere between a moan and a sigh. He can feel his cock twitch at the noise and knowing how much he's already turning you on but focuses.
"And also..." he hums, breath ghosting over your most sensitive spots, making you have to fight back a squirm, "One who loves to please and make them happy..."
Your heart is racing, heat pooling in your belly and hands gripping the chair, marveling at and welcoming this unexpected boldness, but you have little more time to admire the downright sinful look in his eyes before he moves your panties aside with deft fingers and plants a soft kiss upon your mound. That alone is enough to elicit a gasp, yet those gasps swiftly turn to soft moans as his tongue joins in, gently and lovingly lapping at your folds. One shaking hand goes to his hair, tangling itself in his deep chocolate tresses and you whisper his name.
His gaze, now positively burning with desire, meets yours and you can feel more than see his smile, free hand gripping the smooth skin of your thigh to keep you where he wanted. He moves his attentions upwards, dragging his tongue over your clit and gently sucking and you nearly come undone right then, head falling back against the wicker with a loud whine.
It's far too short a time, not that either of you are noting it's passage, before you can feel the burning, familiar coiling in your core, threatening to snap and your back involuntarily arches, your body seeming to move on it's own toward his, seeking more of the pleasure coursing through you.
"V-Viktor-!" you groan, "I-!"
His own groans, lustful and encouraging, rumble from deep in his chest and reverberate through you, aided by his tongue delving briefly inside you before sliding up again to circle that sensitive pearl, faster this time and finally, you fall over the edge.
Gasping, shaking, your body arcs, moaning his name repeatedly like a prayer while the waves of ecstasy wash over you and his strong grip holds you in place as much as possible as his mouth continues it's work until you're almost overstimulated and definitely spent.
Both your breaths ragged, he tenderly kisses the inside of your thighs again, one then the other before meeting your eyes with his golden ones, the smugness and desire burning there. You reach a shaking hand to run your fingers down his face and murmur your love for him, still half out of it from the intensity of your orgasm.
A tiny, falsely innocent grin graces his handsome face, "You seem a bit, eh, out of sorts darling. What happened?"
You chuckle, "Cheeky man...I wasn't expecting, well, that."
He helps you stand, pulling you into a hug and you shudder anew at feeling a familiar pressure against your lower belly. Smirking up at him you raise your eyebrow, "What do you think about continuing this in my room love...?"
"What about the tea? It'll get cold." he teases, pulling you a little closer.
"Oh sweet Viktor..." you smirk, running your hands from his shoulders to his waist, letting them drift to his ass and biting your lip, "I trust it's going to be hot enough in here it won't matter..."
Anon submitted this prompt: For the prompt submissions a vampire that feels guilty after feeding/attacking someone so they leave obscenely valuable ancient artifacts as payment/an apology?
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Lachlan Barrett. Your brain swirls, trying to place the name with some snippet from the journal or some other odd place you’ve heard the name before. It feels strangely familiar but, at the same time, unfamiliar.
As you’re thinking, Lachlan takes a step toward your group. Immediately, Ewan tenses, growling so low in his chest that you can feel the vibrations in your stomach. Simultaneously, Tabaeus hisses from behind you, quiet and soft and sharp. Sandwiched between your companions, you hardly feel threatened, but the predatory air - plus Ewan and Tabaeus’s reaction - piques concern in your gut.
“Please, try not to kick up too much of a fuss,” Lachlan chuckles, though he does not take another step closer. He inclines his head to Tabaeus and Ewan, flashing them a look over the edges of his sunglasses with a pointy-toothed smile. “We are in a library.”
The meaning was clear. You look around at the other patrons of the library: children and teenagers and people just minding their own business. People that are likely unaware of the two vampires lurking in their midst. Glancing back at Tabaeus, noting their stricken look, says enough.
A sudden thought crests your mind, overcoming the shock of the moment. Given this man had just lightly threatened a whole library, was it too hard to imagine he’d kill a town? Or a doctor?
It was a shot in the complete dark, but you had to ask. Tabaeus admitted to blacking out the name, so perhaps Lachlan would fall for your question. “By chance are you the same Lord Barrett who worked with Dr. Kieran Bennett in the 1880s?”
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