cuddling is a given. as a hashira, he's constantly out on dangerous missions so he's extra clingy when he's home with you. cuddling or having you next to him was a given when you're together
do NOT go with this man on festival dates you will lose him. he's too fast and very indecisive because he wants to do and get a little bit of everything. the next time you go together, he holds your hand, but was still hard to keep up with.
"(y/n) they're selling sweet potatoes that way!" "okay wait slow do-" "nevermind look at those fish! do you think we can eat them for dinner?" "what the fuck."
i hc that he doesn't call you pet names. he likes to keep things simple and call you by your first name because why would he? he loves hearing and saying your name already!
was awkward like really awkward in the first few weeks of your relationship. now that you're dating, he can kiss or touch you whenever he wants. but he still doesn't know how to initiate it so sometimes he kinda just stares at you. with that smile. you were a tad bit scared for your life.
"…did i do something wrong or…"
"I WOULD LIKE US TO KISS! RIGHT NOW!"
dumbass. (affectionate)
so yeah to save him the embarrassment you were the one initiating kisses before he started getting real comfortable. and boy did he get real comfortable
speaking of him being embarrassing this man is EMBARRASSINGGG expect nothing less from someone who would shout "yummy!" every bite they'd take of a meal. his regular speaking voice is loud already so whenever you're out and he's professing his love, literally everyone near you can and will hear. you've had your fair share of old people giggling and going "oh my!"
doesn't get jealous or malicious or NOTHIN he's so secure in his relationship. if you argue with him and insult him in the heat of the moment he straight up just goes "you don't mean that! :D" and you're just in disbelief cuz like he's right and hurrrsadjkkfh
he's dealt with one too many scoldings in his life from his father. he'll let you lash out on him for a bit, but he's happy that you two are close enough that he knows he can speak up if you go too far when you're upset at him.
such a safe space, and such a loving and thoughtful boyfriend. tonight you'll make him his favorite meal. his newest mission has something to do with a train, and it's more dangerous than his usual operations. but you'll be ready with freshly made dinner, awaiting his loud greeting and warm cuddles.
Viktor x gnReader! Mostly my musings about Viktor’s inevitable glorious evolution. Slight AU where he has a more time or his condition is less progressive but still deadly. This is mostly establishing junk. Jumps forward a few months after the end of Act 3. ~2.4k words
It was dark when you returned to Zaun. You were even later getting back home. Piltover was never your favorite place; tensions were always high. But since the attack on the council, traveling between the two cities had become downright hostile. Hextech weapons were appearing left and right at the border, checkpoints had become a regular sight when crossing the bridge, and the Lanes had become a backdrop of yet another bloodbath. Still, you've returned in one piece, a parchment-wrapped package in tow. The result of the trade, which you'd set up as a favor for your surprise house guest.
The heavy lock opens with a low clunk and you push inside. It’s small, but homey, with just enough curtains to block most of the green glow and violence of the Lanes. Though the dining room has been overtaken and converted into a makeshift laboratory. While it's hardly as grand as the Academy, he has made it functional. The dining room table has been converted into a workbench with Viktor's notes and current projects cluttering the dark surface.
Before it, slumped over asleep, was the man himself. You set the artificial limb on a book covered service that had previously served as a dining table and approach him. Viktor's lanky form is stretched between the work surface and a chair, face pressed into the crook of one elbow, goggles pushed up into his already messy hair, his narrow face drawn in a harsh expression as if he was deeply focused on something.
His other arm was extended, his hand resting on the hexcore. He'd been drawing on it nearly daily since returning to the Undercity; this wasn't the first time you'd found him passed out before the pulsing piece of arcane technology. Though it looked more like a floating, fibrous organ than anything hex tech. It was almost alive; you'd seen it twisting, angry, snapping. Right now it seemed sated, only vibrating and quivering under Viktor's long fingers. The flesh there has been... affected by the hex core, more now than when you'd last seen it. His skin was dark, almost purple, with violet lines running through it in place of blood-filled veins. It had spread beyond his wrist and was now approaching his elbow. You grab his crutch from his side and, using the handle, ease his hand from the hex core and onto the desk, his fingers making a metallic clink when they touch the table. You knew better than to touch him while he was still connected to the core.
Then, in a low voice, you say, "Hey, Vik. Viktor?" A groan escapes him as his expression relaxes and he draws his other hand under his head. A warm squeeze comes over your chest as you grip his shoulder and give him a gentle shake. "Come on, Viktor, you can't sleep down here again."
Suddenly, Viktor's bolt upright, a page of notes clinging to his cheek. The burst of energy quickly fades though, as he peels the paper off and slumps back in his chair. His eyes dart around the room and back to the hex core. "Did you get the-"
"Prosthetic?" You cut him off, "Yeah." And nod towards the package. "Feels pretty heavy though."
For a moment, he fumbles for the crutch before you place it back into his grasp. "Shouldn't be a problem. I don't need all of it." Viktor breathes for a moment before gripping his crutch and struggling up to his feet. He takes a moment to wipe the last bit of sleep from his eyes and hobbles over to the package.
Without a word, you slip into the tiny kitchen and pour a glass of water. You take a long drink for yourself before filling another cup and heading back to Viktor. He's already poring over the arm; taking the wrist of the thing and rotating it, checking the full range of motion before moving up to the next joint. It's bulky, with far too much armor plating. It's not only meant as a replacement, but as a weapon. A piece of equipment for Piltover Enforcers.
"Can you hand me that socket wrench?"
Instead, you place the glass in his outstretched hand. "Water first. The filter must be working; you can barely taste the runoff today." Viktor looks you hard in the eyes, his mouth is pressed into a thin line, but he takes a small sip of the polluted water.
Returning his glare, you ask, "When did you last eat?"
He huffs, and sits back, arms crossed defiantly over his chest. For a moment, he pauses, recounting his day in thought. "This morning," he says, tentatively. You turn heel, back towards the pantry. "Socket wrench." Then he adds, "Please."
The wrench makes a soft clack when you set it next to him. Viktor catches you with a sideways glance, the stern expression softening in a slight, thankful smile. Ignoring the catch in your throat, you return to the kitchen and swallow it down. There’s not much food left; today was your normal run to the market day, but instead you’d been brokering Viktor’s deal for that arm. You manage to scrounge up the end of a loaf of bread that's on the verge of going stale, a few eggs and the last pad of butter. “Think you can stomach some eggs? Toast maybe?” He mutters something you can't quite make out, speaking more to his latest project than to you. For a moment, you consider the absurdity of having what was essentially breakfast at eleven at night, but decide that Viktor's circadian rhythm is already so out of whack that he won't mind. Half the butter melts easily over the stove and you drop two of the remaining eggs into the pan.
"Can they be over easy?" he answers, finally.
"Got it," You grin a bit and expertly flip the eggs, careful not to burst the yolk. Giving them a few seconds longer, you smear the end of the butter on a slice of bread.
Viktor has pulled the prosthetic to pieces in the short time that it took you to prepare food, but his water is nearly gone--which you take a small amount of pride in--before refilling it and setting it next to him along with the plate. Delicately, you pluck up a particularly shiny silver bauble from the parts. "You're not planning to take your arm off, are you? "
He scoffs, as if the idea would be so outlandish, "Hardly something so dramatic."
You roll your eyes and drop into the chair across from him, returning the piece to the pile and slide a page of his notes toward you. While Viktor hadn't let you leaf through his journal, he'd yet to say something when you looked over any notes he's left out. Though the page is far from comprehensive, it was obvious that the hex core was a major component of his next plan. What a shock. As if on cue, the core ripples and fluctuates next to him. You let the paper flutter back to the table and give him a hard look. "Tell me what this is for," you tap the bauble again.
Viktor grabs the steel part and holds it up to the greenish lamp light, pondering the piece in mock fascination, “That looks like it's part of the shoulder,” and places it back.
“Oh, come on, I risked a lot going to get this. And you won't even tell me why?” you say, annoyance obvious.
That pulls him from the prosthetic. Viktor blinks at you a moment, amber eyes wide. "I'm going to use it to..." he turns the thought over in his head, “To reinforce this this.” He grips his left forearm.
“Reinforce?” you repeat, “Like what, it’ll be like a brace?”
“Sort of,” he shrugs and busies himself with a pair of bronze tweezers. “More like augment.” He has disassembled the elbow joint and pulled back the metal plating to reveal bright blue wiring that he was tugging free. Viktor’s holding something back, that much had been obvious since he’d shown up on your doorstep half dead not even a week ago, with only a few notes and the hexcore under cloak. Disgraced from the academy, unwelcome in Piltover, he had little choice but to return to Zaun.
"Ah!" He motioned for you to join him. The wires had been attached to a small blue square, vibrant lines of gold criss-crossed the surface. Viktor adjusts the lamp again. "Looks to be in good condition." You suppose it was okay. For being so important, you'd thought it would have been bigger or something. Not something that was smaller than the tip of your finger. “Well?”
“Huh?”
“Aren't you going to ask me what it does?” he asks the question so plainly, but you can see the playful intrigue on his gaunt face.
“It’s a conductor, right? Used to channel and throttle hex tech energy to the device. In this case, the prosthetic. "
"Close but not quite,” he launches into full teacher voice, “It can act as a conductor, yes, but this chip is much more. It's been programmed to perform complex equations necessary to harness hex tech. For example," He turns to you, taking your hand in his. Before you can be swept up in the moment, his other taps you on the forehead, snapping you back to his lecture. “When you want to move your arm, you don't really think about it. But your mind is sending signals, telling your arm how to position itself.” He traces two dark fingers, from your temple, down your jaw, to the point where your collar bone meets your shoulder. “They travel from your brain, down your spine and out to your arm. All in an instant. All of the time.” He continues his path along the inside of your bicep. “When you lose a limb,” he clasps his right over the hollow of your elbow. “Those signals have nowhere to go and the brain rewires to compensate."
You're nodding along, mostly successful in comprehending him, though the ever-present pressure on your wrist reminded you just how close he was threatened to pull your attention. How warm his grip was and how fast your heart was racing. How you could just move a modicum of inches and risk brushing against him. You were grateful for the angle he held your wrist at; any different and he'd have brushed over your thundering pulse.
"Most prosthetics, you have to retrain your mind," he continues, "anytime you want your arm to do something, you have to think about it, send the signals manually. But with this," he releases your arm to pick up the hex tech chip, "Controlling a new prosthetic is as simple as moving your arm now. Though that's hardly the limit, we-" he cuts himself off, suddenly caught up in the best way to recount his freshly shattered partnership, "I... there are chips many times the size of this one used in the hex gates."
"So, like this?" You let his grip fall for your wrist, hold up your thumbs and pointer fingers up in the approximation of a ten inch square, framing his face, and grin.
Viktor half chuckles, half chokes on a cough, "A bit bigger than that.” He spreads his arms wide, demonstrating the size of said technology. The stained academy uniform hung awkwardly off his thin frame. He returns your smile before doubling over in his seat, a rough cough racking his body.
Your grin drops solemnly. It's not like you expected him to trust you with everything; Viktor had been a regular at your mother's clinic, but that was years ago. One day he just stopped showing up. Not uncommon for sickly boys from the Undercity. It was only later, though a mutual friend, that you'd found out he was studying in Piltover. So it wasn't like you were ever close. Instead of pressing him though, you place a palm at the center of his back as if it could steady him though the coughing fit. He sits up, quickly wiping away the bit of blood and clearing his throat in an effort to regain some composure. "Though the ones at the hex gates are a tad more complicated."
You nod, narrowing your gaze. "Have you been using that tonic I gave you?"
“I did this morning,” he says again, his attention returning once again to the disassembled prosthetic.
“It’ll do you no good that way. You should be taking it-”
“Every four hours,” he recites and bites back a scoff, “I need my head clear. I’ll take it at bed.”
At that, the weariness of the day sets in, reminding you of just how late it was. "Great, good thing it's bedtime." You nudge his shoulder, trying to goad him into coming along.
“I think I will be up for a while longer,” he waves away your suggestion. Having found what he wanted, Viktor starts reconnecting some of the parts in his own fashion. You snatch the piece he was reaching for, finally having him meet your exhausted glare. “You can't possibly expect me to relax now,” he pleads, gesturing to the table. You make an annoyed sound, ready to argue, before Viktor quickly adds, “Besides, the stairs seem... daunting.” Even through tired eyes, he’s excited, ambitious, and ready to make his next big step on his project.
You pinch the bridge of your nose, really not in the mood to push him anymore, “At least eat something.” Viktor nods, flashes that determined smile that makes your heart skip and plucks the bolt from your grasp. A yawn pulls you from your seat and you brush against him as you head upstairs. "I've got an early shift at the clinic tomorrow. Try not to pass out on the table again, hm?"
"I make no such promises." He says, his voice light, before pausing a moment. "Thank you. For this. For everything... I don't think I've said that yet."
His words stop you at the first step. Viktor has already turned away, one hand playing with a stray lock of hair, his attention tuned to the contraption in front of him. "You're.... um, don't mention it." You take another step and the stair creaks. "Good night, Viktor."
Day One of @911readerinsertweek ! Today’s prompt is: Fluff.
Pairing: Eddie Diaz/GN!Reader
Characters: Eddie Diaz, GN!Reader, Mentions of Christopher Diaz
Tags: Fluff!! Gender Neutral Reader, Cooking, Dancing, Let Eddie Diaz speak more Spanish god damn it, Eddie Diaz is a caring and concerned dad
There's music filling the air of your home as you stir the sauce pot on the stove, you're humming softly along to the song occasionally checking the pasta that bubbles away next to you, tonight you're cooking dinner tonight for you, your boyfriend, and his son. It's something simple but you figured that it's the least you could do for your two favorite boys, today Christopher started fifth grade at school and Eddie had been a complete nervous wreck, you know that he's just worried about how other kids would treat Chris but at the same time you also know that he needs to trust that his son can handle himself and that if a teacher sees something happening they'd step in immediately.
Eddie worries a lot about his son and it's quite endearing, it's one of your favorite qualities about him, you love how caring he is- anytime that you're feeling down he offers to cook you one of your favorite meals so you've decided to do the same for him. You're adding in some chopped oregano when you hear the front door open, a smile graces your lips as you figure it to be Chris and Eddie, what surprises you though is when just Eddie appears in the kitchen. "Hey Y/N, how was- wait a second, are you cooking?" He asks as a bright smile appears on his face, setting his bag from work down on the table he then approaches you and kisses the top of your head as he moves to try the sauce that you've been cooking.
Lightly you smack his hand away with a pointed look and resignedly he puts his hands up leaning against the counter instead, "Sorry mi amor, I just love your cooking." He chuckles lightly, you're genuinely surprised that he's not freaking out about where Christopher is or why he got home first but as if he can read your concerned expression he quickly explains himself, "Chris is having a sleepover tonight, he made a new friend at school." You smile at this pleased with the fact that he's making new friends already, when he gets home tomorrow you'll have to remember to ask all about it.
"Oh so then it's just us tonight?" You ask not-so-subtly hiding the flirty tone in your voice.
"That's right, just you and me." Eddie hums happily.
"Then while the sauce is cooking down would you like to dance with me?" You ask holding out your hand, without another word he takes your hand and pulls you close to himself, the two of you dance around the kitchen to the music playing through your phone without a care in the world. At this moment you realize that you couldn't be happier than where you are now.
