Every Lover is a Madman - pt two
TA!Viktor x Fem!Reader AU (SFW)
Series Masterlist - Arcane Masterlist - AO3
Synopsis: After your meeting with Viktor, you're not entirely sure how the next couple of classes are going to go. And they are certainly something, especially when Viktor seems determined to give you even more attention in class than he had before.
Warnings: lots more sexual tension and flirting, a smidge of angst, a bit of spice, embarrassment and awkwardness because you and Viktor are trying your best.
Word Count: 4k
A/N: I'm really happy y'all are enjoying the series so far. Thank you for the love and support for it.
Viktor called your name and you were sure you heard the sound of him lifting from his chair, but you were faster than him. But even so, you kept up the brisk pace until you were back at your apartment, back against your bedroom door, eyes closed, panting. You had no idea why you’d said anything to him beyond a thank you. Why you’d opened your big mouth and practically told him you were crushing on him was beyond reason.
You thought about skipping class the next day. Again so when your usual six hours of sleep dwindled down to four. But you wanted to double-check with Heimer about your topic change and you knew there was going to be a handout for Stardust. You didn’t want to risk the potential zero for the assignment simply because you couldn’t face your professor’s assistant.
Still, you made sure to time your entrance when a bunch of other students came in so you could hide in the cluster. You sat near the back again, only daring a glance up to see if Viktor was in the room yet. He wasn’t. But you couldn’t relax.
You sat two seats in just in case Viktor was the one to pass out the handouts.
He and Heimer came in together five minutes later. Heimer greeted the class, Viktor a second after, and you kept your eyes glued to your laptop until Heimer spoke again, starting class. You didn’t even spare a glance at the desk where you knew Viktor was seated. No matter how badly you wanted to see if he was looking at you.
After Heimer finished his lecture, the world seemed to be on your side when he passed out the Stardust assignment. He even waddled past the two seats to hand you your own.
“Oh, Miss (Y/N), Viktor informed me about what the two of you discussed in regards to your topic. I look forward to reading your paper!”
“T-Thanks,” you said, not expecting him to say anything about it in the middle of class. But that meant you were off the hook about emailing him or even visiting his office again. That meant fewer interactions with Viktor.
But at the mention of his name, your subconscious took over and your eyes shot over to where he was sitting at the front of the room. His hair was a tad askew, eye bags puffier and darker, eyes narrowed at the computer monitor. His mouth twitched–into a smile or frown you shouldn’t tell, not from five rows away. He wore a white shirt today with a casual black scarf and dark blue jeans. You sucked in a harsh breath and quickly looked back at your laptop.
“Feel free to work on the assignment for the last fifteen minutes. Vik and I are here if you have any questions. Otherwise, you’re free to go. Have a good day!” Heimer waved at the few students who left. They left before you could pack up, taking away the chance to leave with a crowd. You opted to stay, hoping the rest of the class would stay until the end and all leave together. Then you were in the clear.
Thankfully, you were sucked into the assignment after the second question and ten minutes passed in the blink of an eye.
And then the classmate beside you and one a few rows up raised their hands. The one upfront muttered professor and you felt your heart skip a beat before dropping into the pits of your stomach. You tried to regain the thought you’d been writing, but it wasn’t coming. The gears in your brain were jammed. Hard.
Viktor stood beside the student. He kept one hand in his pocket and the other on the handle of his cane. He didn’t bend down.
“What can I help you with?”
You tightened your fingers around your pencil. You didn’t write a single word as you tried not to listen to Viktor answer your classmate’s very benign question. Viktor sounded bored as he recited the difference between autonomy and agency. You’d already answered the question they were referencing. Does the inclusion of Captain Shakespeare diminish Tristan’s agency in the makeover scene?
They peered up at Viktor with wide, expectant eyes. Nodding along to what he’d said. Like he was reading a story to them, not defining words he’d defined for them for the umpteenth time. Viktor didn’t linger when they said oh, I get it now, thank you. His eyes met yours for a second before you looked back at your paper. You still couldn’t write.
“Need any assistance?”
His hand went to the back of your chair as he bent down ever so slightly. You held your breath as you locked eyes. His brow pinched as he waited for you to respond. But the gears in your head were still rusted. His eyes were so pretty. Even when it looked like he was running on just as little sleep as you were. He was breathtaking. Literally. It forced you to hold onto the oxygen in your lungs like you wanted to hold onto him.
“No,” you breathed out.
Your next breath was coffee and caramel. You wanted to see if he tasted the same, eyes dropping to his mouth. It twitched into a faint smile.
“Miss (Y/N),” he whispered so quietly that you questioned if you’d imagined it.
It warmed you like a fireplace on a winter morning. Hot cocoa after playing out in the snow for hours. A fresh bath with vanilla suds and lavender candles. You crossed your legs and flexed your thighs until they started to shake.
“You seem a little distracted today.” He glanced down at your sheet. “Lose your train of thought?”
“Perhaps,” you muttered.
“Mmm.” He eyed the agency question you’d answered in full detail and smiled. “I wonder why that is.”
You’d wanted to say I wonder in response, but you were at a total loss for words. They’d been completely stuck in your throat. Trapped like a bird in a cage. You swallowed and Viktor noticeably watched your neck.
“Well if you have any questions, do not hesitate to ask.” His voice dropped to a lower octave and he glanced subtly to the student beside you. “I’m sure I will not be going far.”
Despite class ending in five minutes, a few of the students–including yourself–stayed late to finish the assignment. If you’ve finished, feel free to turn them in now for an extra credit point. Only half of the students who stayed turned them in. Including yourself. Your hand grazed Viktor’s as you passed it to him and you practically sprinted out the door, replaying the small interaction with him until your hand stopped tingling.
The next two classes, Viktor stopped by your desk. Whether you sat in the back or your original seat, Viktor made sure to find himself beside you. The first, to ask if you had any questions when you had the handout passed back out to you. Those who turned it in last class already have the fortune of it being graded. So Viktor returned them to each student, making sure to hand you yours last. Hands brushing. Cheeks reddening. If you have any questions about your grade, feel free to ask. You noticed he’d only said it to you.
The second was when Heimer had to step out of the class for a moment while a video played. A mini-lecture on plot structure. Viktor passed out handouts for the upcoming required reading–A House on Mango Street–and paused beside you.
“How is the paper coming along? It is due in a few days.”
It wasn’t getting any easy to talk to him. Especially since you’d seen him bending down to help students less and less. Yet as he stood beside you, he stood back and behind you, hands in his pockets, cane hooked around his arm, leaning forward as if he were checking out something on the handout. There was no one sitting beside you today.
“I’ve already finished it. I’m doing a once over again this afternoon and then I’m turning it in.” Your voice was hoarse as Viktor pointed at a question that didn’t need any explanation.
“Ah. Good. If you would like a second pair of eyes to check it, you’re more than welcome to stop by Heimer’s office. Although he will be out this evening, so I must admit only I can offer my assistance.”
You glanced over at him without pause. He looked completely unaffected. As if he’d just answered a basic question about the handout. He smiled and patted your shoulder as he stood. It felt like you hadn’t been touched by someone else in ages. You leaned just slightly into it before you caught yourself, sucked in a sharp breath, felt your heart leap to life as if you’d just been an example of the living dead.
He nodded and made his way back to the front of the classroom. You forced an uninterested face as Viktor flipped the lights and closed the video. Heimer came back in just as he was pulling the PowerPoint back up.
“So, where were we?” Heimer asked as he positioned himself at the front of the room. “Ah, yes, the climax.”
You had a choice. A very important choice.
You stared at your completed paper, already printed out. You told yourself you’d printed it so you could edit. To scribble and scratch your favorite red pen along the words and annotate to your heart's content. But you’d already done that. Three times. Your pen already sat capped, back in its usual spot on your desk.
It seemed you’d already made the choice, but you couldn’t get yourself to move from your desk.
You deliberated a while longer. Wondering if you were reading into Viktor’s words too much. Dreams that had found their way into your head the past few nights danced in the background. Teases. Nothing more than Viktor in the classroom, his hand occasionally drifting from the back of the chair to your back. Shoulder. Your cheek as he wiped away a stray eyelash. Eyes would linger on lips. Breaths would hitch. But your dreams never gave you a taste. Not a second of it.
It doesn’t matter. Whether Viktor had meant something with his words or not, you could still go and get his professional opinion. Even if you were wearing the dangerously low-cut tank top, its hanger discarded on the floor from when you pulled it out of your wardrobe. The yellow satin was tucked into a black skirt that hit mid-thigh and flared out. You wore a long necklace that slipped down into your cleavage because it looked good with the outfit. No other reason besides that. None at all.
The front desk man was leaving as you entered. Closer to seven than you’d meant, but your deliberation took longer than you had hoped. He waved you in, reminding you not to stay too long. You nodded, preemptively pulling your paper out of your bag.
Heimer’s door was cracked.
It inched open when you knocked and Viktor simply called out to come in. His sleeves were rolled up like last time. His hair even more askew than before. But at least it looked as if he’d taken a nap since then. His eyes brightened when he glanced up. Mouth quirked into a smile.
“I brought something for you.” You held up the paper.
“Excellent.”
You walked over on nervous legs and handed him the stapled papers. He plucked up and twirled his red pen, no hesitation as he started reading.
“Stay,” he murmured when you didn’t immediately sit, not looking up from the paper. “I am a quick reader.”
He surely was. He marked a few spots you already knew he was going to. You’d dedicated an entire three paragraphs to just Tristan’s name change purposefully to piss him off. He finished in no more than thirteen minutes. An agonizing thirteen minutes, having to sit there in silence as Viktor read your work.
When he got to the last page, you fisted your skirt and waited. It was agony, watching his eyes scan the last few lines. When he finally sat the paper down, your eyes met.
“It’s a very good paper. Very polished.”
“Thank you.”
“Although,” he mumbled as he turned your paper back towards you. “I must admit I did have my favorite parts. And my least favorite.”
He flipped back a page and pointed at the name section. You grinned.
“What? Not a…Tristfan?”
Viktor looked like he was fighting a smile as he sighed. He closed his eyes and shook his head, losing the battle as his resolve broke. He dropped his head in his hand and a laugh snuck out. A crooked smile curved his lips. You matched the expression.
“You did not need someone else’s opinion. This is an A paper.”
You swallowed and tightened your grip until you felt your nails through your skirt.
“But I have a feeling you know that already.” Viktor dropped his pen into the holder.
You weren’t entirely sure how to respond to that. He was right. You’d edited it three times, were solidly sure of its the decency, but he’d invited you. You wanted him to read it. Or, at least you thought you wanted him to read it. There were a fair bit of muddled thoughts mingling around in your head. Many of which seemed to have Viktor highlighted in them while the rest of it was blurred away.
“I am personally under the impression that it never hurts to get a second opinion. Right?” You swallowed hard.
“You are correct.”
You plucked your paper up from the desk and stuffed it into your bag. The sound of you sorting the random contents of it filled the office as Viktor watched patiently.
“Er…” You hooked your arm through the strap and rose up. “Thank you for reading it. You didn’t have to…offer, you know, I mean- You didn’t have to take time out of your evening to read over my paper.”
“Miss (Y/N),” Viktor murmured and you stopped, half standing. You straightened and clutched your strap for dear life.
“Yes?”
“If you have a moment, I would like to continue the conversation we were having the last time you were here.” His eyes seemed to blaze like the twilight sky outside.
You shifted your weight from foot to foot.
“You would?”
“I would.” He rested his chin in his hand and drummed his fingers against his jaw.
Slowly you lowered yourself back down into the chair. You kept your bag on your lap this time.
“What about it would you like to discuss?” Your voice felt trapped in your throat. It was difficult to breathe. To speak.
“You mentioned that some of the students come to me with…mundane questions that they might not want to bother the professor with.”
“I did.” You took as even of a breath as you could muster. When Viktor didn’t continue speaking, you filled the quiet. “It’s not because they don’t want to bother the professor, Viktor, it’s because…”
You weren’t exactly sure how to word it. Politely? Because they think you’re attractive. Cute? Because they’re crushing on you, Vik. Crudely? Because they want to fuck you. There wasn’t exactly an easy way to explain it to the man you already confessed to having the same feelings towards. The same feelings as the classmates who peered up at him with eyes that would’ve danced any other person into their bedroom.
“Because they want to be near you. You know, like, be close to you because they…like…you.”
You looked away from Viktor. Holding eye contact was difficult with him while saying something that you knew he was going to connect back to you. And that’s exactly what he did.
“And…that is why I make you nervous?”
You held your breath as you thought over possible responses. You’d already admitted to him that he made you nervous. But admitting that that was why he made you nervous? Telling him that you had a crush on him? Fucking nerve-wracking. But you didn’t exactly have another choice.
“Perhaps.” It was barely audible.
That was all you could handle. Like your fight or flight kicked in, you jumped to your feet. Just get outta there. You don’t need to hear the rejection. You thanked him again and started to turn towards the door, but the sound of Viktor standing made you pause. He said your name quickly, his voice a tad panicky.
“Wait.” He seemed to be breathing just as hard as you were. But neither of you had moved more than a few inches. He said nothing more.
You started to say his name, but when you searched his face, you noticed his eyes scan your body. Slowly over your legs, where the skirt flared out, where your shirt was tucked in. Stalling over the low-cut dip of your shirt, following the necklace chain up to your neck. When he got to your face, his cheeks deepened to a dark red and he jerked his eyes away.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I…My apologies.”
He wouldn’t meet your eyes as he sat and shook his head. Your legs were too wobbly to move just yet. You imagined Viktor looked how you had when you were last here. Confused, vulnerable.
“Viktor-”
“This was a mistake.” You barely heard it. He cleared his throat and spoke louder. “You wrote a great paper, Miss (Y/N), I look forward to the Professor’s reaction to it. He’ll certainly enjoy it. Have a great evening.”
You took a step to the side as Viktor rose and grabbed his bag. You thought about stopping him, but this was a mistake seemed to be like ice in your veins. Or perhaps icicles prickling your skin. Falling through cracked ice, plunging into the freezing waters below. Sinking to the bottom of an endless lake, the pressure growing until the air had been wedged from your lungs.
Viktor held the door open for you. He finally met your gaze when you stepped by him, sandwiched in the doorway. You seemed to search each other’s eyes for something that wasn’t going to be there.
You bit your cheek as you held your head as high as you could, trying to maintain some sense of confidence and nonchalant bravery as Viktor towered over you like he towered over everyone. What were you supposed to focus on? The close contact, this was a mistake, confessing that he made you nervous because you were crushing on him, the way he seemed to be having an internal argument about something?
The words left you before you even realized you’d started speaking.
“What was a mistake?”
Viktor shifted his weight between his left leg and his cane.
“Have a good evening, Miss-”
“Viktor.” You spoke his name in a whisper that seemed to chip away at whatever professional barrier he had put up between you in the last two minutes. You had no discernible truth that he reciprocated the feelings. In fact, you were solidly sure he’d already politely rejected you. But you needed to hear him outright say it. It can’t happen or I don’t want you. Just something to take the cold water from your veins and dump it over the heat flaming around your heart.
“Inviting you here when the Professor was out.” He glanced over at Heimer’s desk. “I’d thought I…could handle it if I was just reading your paper.”
The flames were fanned. You stood your ground.
“Handle what?”
Viktor fell silent for a moment. He studied your face, the small clock on a nearby desk outside ticked away. You got to thirty-something before Viktor spoke again.
“Perhaps the same reason the students come directly to me is similar to why I always inquire if you need assistance.”
Like Calcifer when Sophie told him she liked his spark, the inferno around your heart roared. That was as close as you were going to get to any sort of reciprocation or confession from him. You could tell as he seemed to wince at his own words. He shook his head and closed his eyes. He opened his mouth–probably in an attempt to rectify the situation he’d just created–but nothing came out except a quiet fuck. You never thought a single word would drive you absolutely insane. But it had. The hoarseness of his voice, the breathy whisper it dropped to. It kicked you into gear. But it felt like you were in second when you should’ve been in fourth.
You had to have been drunk on his words, on his presence in a way that had accumulated since the first day of class. It was the only way to describe why you hadn’t just nodded, wished him a good evening, and walked away. But it seemed whenever you were alone with Viktor, you weren’t making good choices.
Or, perhaps you were making the best ones.
You stepped towards his.
His cane bounced on the floor as your fingers tangled in his hair, his hands finding your cheeks. His back pressed against the opened door, keeping it propped. Noses nudged and chests rose and fell with a speed like you’d both sprinted a hundred meters towards each other. Your lips brushed. A gentle caress. Hovering but nothing more than a simple tease of a touch. You gasped as Viktor’s nails dug slightly into your skin. He sighed as yours scraped his scalp. You fought the disappointment as neither of you took the inch forward necessary to get there. It was a war to start to pull away. One you seemed to lose the second you started to move from his grasp.
Not a moment of hesitancy. He kissed you. Slow, like a secret. Mouth soft and tender. He dropped his bag to the floor and backed you up to the other side of the doorframe. The door started to close and you gasped, trying to say his name, and he quickly threw out a hand to stop it. He practically purred against you as your mouth parted and your tongues grazed.
His free hand skimmed down along your jaw, following the curve and swiping along your neck. He broke the kiss and glanced down, heat building on your cheeks when you realized just exactly where he was looking. His fingers trailed along the gold chain of your necklace until he hooked them around it and lifted it. He chuckled as he pulled the obsidian star pendant out of your shirt.
“I have been wondering what was on the end of this since you walked into the office.”
You laughed lightly, completely dazed and fighting the urge to put your mouth back on his. He turned the pendant over in his fingers before he let it drop back against your chest. He closed his eyes and took a slow breath. He frowned.
“(Y/N),” he breathed and you felt that similar icy feeling come back. “I feel as if I do not need to say that this…cannot happen again.”
He swallowed and stepped back. He reached down and plucked his cane up.
“I am your professor’s assistant. I help grade your assignments. It would be-”
“I know,” you interrupted, voice low. “A conflict of interest.”
“Yes.” Viktor nodded. “A conflict of interest.”
A bittersweet smile crept up. “Maybe I should continue going directly to Professor Heimerdinger with any questions, then.”
“Hmmm,” Viktor hummed. “Maybe I should continue questioning if you’d done the required reading. I have to make sure my students are keeping up with the work.”
You narrowed your eyes and Viktor grinned halfheartedly.
“What?” He pushed forward and you followed. The door shut behind the both of you. “If you continue to question my standing in the classroom, then I shall do the same with you.”
You stopped walking and scoffed as he pressed the down button on an elevator a few doors down from Heimer and his office. He stepped inside and pushed what you guessed was the one button. He seemed to be torn between a sarcastic smugness and the loss of something the both of you'd had for mere moments in the grasp of your hands. He let out a careful breath as the doors closed. His voice sounded strained.
“Goodnight, Miss (Y/N). I’ll see you in class.”
