#viktorxreader

[mischievous-piltovan]

The Undying Oath (NSFW)

Chapter 3: It All Came Crumbling Down (SFW)

Pairing: Viktor x fem!Reader

Summary: As reader navigates her grief, she watches the rug being swept from under her. One after the other, the pillars holding together her life crumble, and she's forced to cling to her values and ideals, upholding Viktor's legacy.

A/N: This is more of a bridge chapter, connecting the setup of the two previous chapters to where I want to bring the story next. I hope you like it despite that. Happy New Year!!

Warnings: Major Character Death. Loss of a loved one. Angsty. War.

Word Count: 6.4K Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 (In Progress) Also on AO3

The few seconds it took for Jayce's words to finally sink in felt like an eternity. The synapses in her brain fought hard to soften the blow, the mechanisms of grief starting to engage as soon as the message was received.

The only thing preventing her legs from giving out was the surge of guilt rapidly encapsulating her whole body. She did not deserve to rest.

It was all for nothing.

Her mind plagued her with images of Viktor in his final days, slowly decaying. Suffering not only from his ailments, but from the pain of betrayal from the only person he sought comfort from, as his condition started preventing him from the work he often escaped to. Those tired golden eyes piercing her in accusation as they slowly closed a final time.

She could only tell Jayce's approaching her once his hand reached her shoulder. Her eyes quickly went from his hand to his face, where he wore an apologetic expression.

"It's not your fault." He said as softly as he could. 

She couldn't respond. Her hanging mouth felt as dry as when she was in Shurima. Her gaze followed Viktor's statue body up to his face, the sharp corners adorning his jaw looked as pristine as they did the first time they met. He was beautiful.

Her beautiful fiancee whose thick accented voice she would never hear again.

That's when the grieving surpassed the guilt. She fell to her knees in a painful sob, her hand finding purchase on the statue before her. The tears rolling down her cheeks blurred her vision, but it didn't stop the flashing images of Viktor behind her eyes. She sobbed quietly, holding back her voice as much as she could - she shouldn't be allowed to grieve for the loss she bestowed upon herself.

Jayce kneeled beside her in silence for a moment, a hand gently placed on her back for comfort. But it wasn't long before he decided to leave her alone - he felt like she needed a moment by herself with Viktor.

As the tears started to subdued, she groggily sat beside the statue of Viktor hugging her knees together and resting her head on his feet. She spent the night in Jayce's office in a broken slumber, whispering apologies to the cold night air during the brief moments of consciousness.

She woke up the next day with Jayce's warm hand on her shoulder.

"Let's get you to your dorm," he spoke softly "You need some proper rest."

She didn't have the presence of mind to deny him, so she simply nodded before Jayce took her hand, gently bringing her to her feet and led her through the halls of the Academy.

Once they reached her door, he cooed her inside.

"I'll leave you to it, the Council needs me," he said. "I'll come by later so we can get you some food, okay? Rest well."

As soon as the door closed behind her, she was hit by a stale yet familiar scent - the scent of her life together with Viktor. The room was untouched, as if they had left it just this morning to work and she was coming back at the end of the day, the thin layer of dust covering every surface the only indication that time had passed. The bed was unmade, piles of books filled the shelves by the windows, there were some clothes discarded on the floor probably from the last time one of them jumped in bed after a long day and couldn't bother throwing them into the hamper. 

A renewed wave of misery crashed onto her at the sight, she forced herself to stand her ground and not collapse onto the floor again. She walked around slowly, taking in every little detail, not daring to touch anything, as if preserving the scene could somehow bring her back to that old life from two years ago.

She stopped at Viktor's desk upon noticing his journal opened up on his last entry. She felt conflicted, there was a part of her that desperately wanted to read his journal in a feeble attempt to feel close to him again and she almost gave in to the urge, but the guilt held her in place - was she even allowed to pry into his personal notes after everything she did?

She took a deep breath. This journal was Viktor's last words, his final message to the world - there could be his will or dying wishes written in there, he was a very meticulous man after all. He deserved at least to be heard a final time. The girl sat down on his chair, pulling the journal closer to her.

"I am afraid I might be living the twilight of my life and I'll soon be headed to that good night.

Despite working tirelessly to find a way to prolong my days, to cure this wretched ailment that fell upon me, I still can't see even a glimpse of a solution in the horizon.

And this growing decay inside me doesn't seem to want to stop anytime soon, expanding the distance between us in this morbid race I've been forced into.

The only thing keeping me sane is the light and warmth of my hearthfire that is [Y/n]. The possibility of a future where we get to grow old together side by side keeps the darkness at bay. I'm sure I'll find a way to get there.”

She hastily closed the journal back to save the pages from getting stained as the tears began falling copiously down her face again. Her knees gave out and she fell down, holding her torso up by the edge of the desk.

The tears turned to sobbing and then to wailing. In the uncanny familiarity of their bedroom, she finally allowed herself to grieve.

As the tears started to subside, she felt the weight of exhaustion pull her down. It hit her that she hadn't had a proper night of sleep on a bed ever since she left on her expedition. For a moment, the lethargy she felt paired up with the self-loathing festering inside of her had her considering curling down on the floor where she knelt and sleeping right there, but something tugged at her.

She felt a warm gentle humming radiating from her left arm, traversing its extent in waves. She quickly pulled back the sleeve of her coat and saw the golden veins on her marbled new arm faintly glowing. The sensation was gone as quickly as it came, the luminescent golden quality of the appendage dying down. and she realized she didn't feel as tired as before.

Her new magic came to her aid.

She chuckled dryly. “You would  have loved this, Vik. A way to prolong your working hours without any chemical additives.”

She pulled the sleeve back down, standing up. Shedding the garments from the trip unceremoniously, she opted for a pair of sweats and a shirt whose sleeves fully covered the new arm. There was too much weighting at her mind at the moment, unpacking the stuff she went through with anyone just wasn't on the docket.

As the second wind her arm provided her died down, she grabbed Viktor’s journal from his desk and hopped onto bed. She fell asleep holding the journal tight against her body, lulled by the faint scent of him that still lingered onto the unmade bed.

The next five days happened in a daze. She laid in bed for hours, unable to leave, with energy to only to switch between silently crying, sobbing or sleeping. Jayce would come when he could, bringing her food and consoling her for as much time as he was able to spare. She was grateful for him, but would often leave a lot of what he brought untouched - she felt chronically nauseated. 

On the sixth day, Jayce found her sitting up on the bed. 

She was unkept, drained, yet there was a glint of something else behind her eyes. Something different from the ruined state she had been in. The sides of her mouth even curled up in a forced half-smile when she noticed the man.

“Good morning,” he muttered gently, placing the tray of food on the desk. “How are you feeling?”

“Not good,” she answered, looking down. “But a bit better than before.”

“Good to hear,” Jayce responded, sitting on the edge of the bed with her.

“I need to leave this room and do something,” she muttered, turning to the window. “Occupy myself a bit.”

“I think that’s a wonderful ideal,” Jayce said, reaching for one of her hands. She flinched for a second, avoiding his contact at first. But then quickly relaxed right after, offering her right hand out to him. He took it in earnest.

 “They say that's good for the grieving process.”

“Yeah, it wouldn't be fair to Viktor’s memory either,” she chuckled. “I wonder what he'd say if he saw me like that.”

It was Jayce’s turn to chuckle. “I think he'd understand.”

“I might head back to the UDS, the Undercity model definitely needs to be updated after two years.”

Jayce didn't respond. How odd.

She searched his face and saw apprehension, his eyes fixated on a corner of the room.

Finally, with a deep breath, he met her gaze.

“The UDS has been dismantled.”

A couple of seconds passed before his words fully sank in.

“What?”

“With the growing conflict with the Undercity, priorities shifted,” he explained. “It didn't make sense to allocate funds to it any longer.”

Yet another pillar of her life tumbling down in front of her. All the work she's done over the past decade was discarded on a whim.

How Piltovan of them.

“That's my life's work, Jayce,” she barked, yanking her hand away from his grasp. “What about all my documents? My blueprints? My model? Was it all just discarded?”

He paused again. 

“No,” he responded apprehensively. “Look, I tried arguing against it…”

She narrowed her eyes at him.

“Jayce…”

“You have to understand the circumstances, everything changed after the Council was bombed…,” he trailed off.

“Spit it out, Jayce!”

He swallowed dryly before speaking. “Everything that was in the UDS room is being used in the effort against the Undercity, including your model.” 

“WHAT?” She almost jumped out of the bed. “With whose authorization? This is absolutely preposterous, I can't –”

She fought to find the words. Pressure started to build beneath her skin as an onslaught of thoughts plagued her mind, one more preposterous than the other. She could feel her jaw clenching,  her breathing getting labored.

Her marbled arm getting warmer.

“Everything I mapped and cataloged about the Undercity was to help them, to better their lives,” she said between her teeth. “Not to brutalize them.”

“I know, but the intel the UDS could provide was detrimental to the conflict effort. The Council voted for it almost unanimously,” Jayce tried justifying. “There was nothing I could do.”

Likely story.

She scoffed. “And what would the Council have me do then? Escapading through the Lanes to gather more intel for their war effort? Because you know I won't do it.”

“No… 

Jayce paused, taking a deep breath.

“With me out of the Lab and Viktor gone, you are the only one left with decent knowledge to continue developing projects on HexTech…”

She glared at him.

“What are you suggesting?”

Jayce swallowed dryly once more, unenthusiastically meeting her gaze. And with the same lack of intention, as if he couldn't believe his next words himself, he blurted out.

“They want you to develop HexTech weapons.”

Jayce's words brought their exchange to a standstill. With knitted brows, he waited for her response, trying to gauge her reaction from her countenance. All the while, she waited for his next words. Because there needed to be next words.

Because the nature of this proposition was so absurd, Jayce couldn't be serious.

“No.”

“(Y/N)-,” Jayce tried arguing, but she abruptly cut him off.

“I won't do it, that's final,” then pressure bubbled back up, each word pronounced like a punch. “Honestly, I feel offended you even considered bringing this to me.”

Jayce huffed. “You think I don't understand how this sounds? I don't like the idea either, but the conflict with the Undercity has been escalating to a degree that's getting out of hand.”

“Oh, so the solution is to bomb them with HexTech explosives? To litter their underground with HexTech mines?”

“We need the upper hand to put an end to the conflict!” It was Jayce’s turn to get worked up. “It would issue their rendition and we would be sparing lives!”

“We would be taking lives!” The swell of ire poisoned her words, building them into a vile crescendo. “To paint it as a panacea to the conflict is wishful thinking at best.”

“It is not ideal, but we’re far past the peaceful negotiations phase,” he retorted. “You would know that if you were here in the past two years.”

Jayce had a terrible habit to resort to petty comebacks whenever a discussion wasn't going his way. She saw it happen more times than she wished to whenever he and Viktor got stuck working on particular complex projects for far too long and exhaustion made everyone cranky. 

Right now, dealing with the socio-political calamity at hand was clearly turning him into the worst version of said Jayce. And, like she did in the past, there was a world in which she'd brush it off and simply reel the conversation back to the topic at hand. To douse the flames so as not to get them both burned.

This was not such a world.

In the next second, she violently got up, lifting a finger at Jayce. “I will NEVER willingly participate in the genocide of my husband's people!”

Jayce did the same, barreling towards her, shoving a finger to her face. “He WASN’T your husband. You LEFT HIM at the altar to DIE!”

That was the last straw.

---------------------------------------------------

Jayce had realized he went too far the moment he noticed the tight knot in her brows and the lack of glimmer in her eyes, a blend of hurt and rage. He’d apologize, said he didn't mean it and the words that came out of him were mere fruits of the spur of the moment.

But it was the last pillar holding up the home she built in Piltover. And it came crashing down before her eyes, the falling rubble sending debris all around her. And as the dust settled down, she saw the only possible way forward.

Or downward.

She started packing as soon as Jayce left her room, sliding a large over-the-shoulder bag from under the bed. She made quick work of stuffing some clothes, her journal, and some other light equipment. She finished up by carefully placing Viktor's journal atop her belongings, slotted between some fabrics for safekeeping.

She put her coat on, pulled the hood over her head, slinged the bag over her shoulders and sneaked out of Academy.

And she was suddenly back to when she was a kid.

The divide between Topside and the Undercity seems abrupt at first glance. A clean cut, where one could easily pinpoint where one ended and the other started.

However, someone from The Fringes knows that there are a lot more shades of gray in this black-and-white picture Topsiders like to paint.

Much like the intricacies of the socioeconomic relations of the sister cities, exist capillary breaches connecting them. Crevices invisible to the eyes of Piltovans, that in their hubris, never made an effort to look into. Alleyways a little wider than a foot that always remained unpatrolled by enforcers before the conflict and that she was sure wouldn't be patrolled now.

From checkpoint to checkpoint, she slipped between those cracks until there were no more blue uniforms in sight. 

Truth be told, the Enforcers were much more worried about preventing trenchers from moving up than making sure no topsider was sneaking into the Undercity.

She stopped sneaking once the familiar smell of stale urbanity air hit her nostrils. The streets were eerily quiet, much different from the neon-bathed everlasting nightlife she was used to - if it wasn't for the humming of machinery or the eventual person walking hastily by her, she'd assume it was a ghost town.

Apprehension took hold. She wasn’t sure exactly where to go, just hoped she'd stumble upon a friendly face at some point. Maybe people who’d recognize the Architect from all the on-site data gathering she used to do as part of the UDS. Maybe even someone who'd remember her walking around with Viktor.

Pain rose from her chest at the memory. 

In the new relative calmness devoid of the fear of being perceived, her mind raced. There was a cacophony of emotions roaring inside her, sadness that her place in the academy was no more, grief from the very recent loss of her fianceé, guilt from breaking her promise and leaving Viktor to die alone.

But on top of it all was rage. Pure molten ire for Piltover taking over her life's work, which she toiled over for years on an underfunded (due to pure disinterest of topside on the matter) section of the academy, and twisting it, completely stripping it of its original purpose, perverting it at its core. 

And Jayce, of all people, not vetoing it? 

She fumed, clenching her jaw as she made her way forward. Her marbled arm tingled erratically every time a new painful memory resurfaced, but she was far too engulfed in her righteous wrath to take notice of that.

Or of the quickly approaching footsteps from behind.

In an instant, she felt the loss of the weight of her bag as someone swiftly took it off of her shoulder. The figure then held her bag tight against them, never faltering in their stride. It took her a second to snap back from the astonishment before dashing behind the thief.

She ran as fast as she could, not worried with her clothes, her equipment or any of her belongings inside her bag - only Viktor’s journal. But as the chase continued, her lungs burned, not used to the thick, polluted air of the Lanes anymore. Soon, every fiber of her body started screaming for her to stop, her legs started faltering and she watched as the distance between her and the thief grew.

She was going to lose the very last piece of him she had. Have it mercilessly snatched away from her grasp. And again, she was gonna be unable to prevent it.

The very thought made her sick, like a humming uneasiness in the pit of her stomach. And it quickly expanded, hot and incandescent, every cell inside her igniting in a chain-reaction until it engulfed her in a golden inferno.

Her marbled arm flew forward on instinct, the veins glowing an intense golden hue. With a scream, as if all the pressure that had been building up exploded, a burst of energy went flying from her outstretched palm, hitting the thief squarely in the back.They fell on the floor, rolling around from momentum, before stopping. 

She stopped at their prone body, falling to her knees as she tried to catch her breath. Gazing down down at her marbled arm, she notoced the vein’s glow was already dimming. As soon as her breathing normalized and the nausea from exertion subsided, she grabbed her bag back and slung it across her torso.

She got up and was about to leave the scene, but something told her not to. She glanced back at the thief's form, still prone on the floor. Worry nagged at her, she had no idea what had just transpired and how whatever that was could've affected the thief outside of stopping them in their tracks. 

She took a deep breath before kneeling back down beside the thief and turning them on their back. She was met with his eyes, wide and scared, frantically looking at her. The rest of his body was completely still. Whatever she's done, seemed to have paralyzed him. Locked him in his own body.

She panicked. The thief, a man probably in his early 20's, didn't deserve this fate. Glancing over her marbled arm, she wondered if she could somehow reverse it. She was supposed to be a healer mage now, right? She did it before, sort of. 

Taking another deep breath, she placed her marbled palm on his chest. With her eyes closed, she tried to envision him running earlier, tried to perceive her own guilt for his fate, tried to beg the Cosmos, the Immortal Flame that made her its Aspect, to heal the man and grant him back his movement.

And then she started feeling a warmth blossoming in her gut, slowly travelling through her body up until her marbled palm. She opened her eyes and watched as the golden veins on her arm glowed, bathing her and the man in a cozy warm light. As soon as the light subsided, the thief gasped, quickly sitting up and scooting backwards.

“It's ok-,” she faltered, being suddenly overtaken by vertigo. Whatever healing she did paired with the chase seemed to have taken its toll, rendering her unable to continue. Her body stumbled forward, heavy with exhaustion. She barely had the presence of mind to catch herself with both palms to the floor.

From her peripheral vision, other figures started approaching the scene.

She heard their conversations.

“Be careful, she's a mage.”

“Go check if Nadir is OK, I'll deal with her.”

“Look at her clothes, she's a Piltie.”

“Quick, grab her stuff before she's back up again.”

Don't . But the words wouldn't come out. The figures kept closing in. She held her bag with as much force as she could muster, but her arms felt amorphous. There was no defending the bag anymore.

“Wait! Don't harm her! That's (Y/N)!”

A familiar voice rang from a figure further back. She looked up from her curled state on the floor, spots dancing in her vision with the motion.

“Ralph-,” was all she could muster before passing out.

---------------------------------------------------

The next time she opened her eyes, she was on a bed. The ceiling above was wooden, planks held together by bolted steel. 

“Ah, you're awake.”

She quickly sat up trying to find the source of the voice. On a chair on the far end of the room sat a tall, lean man with light brown hair. 

“Ralph?”

He beamed at her, dimples forming at the sides of his mouth. The same smile that would grace her all those years ago, when she was still just a kid of The Fringes. The first in command of the little band of misfits that she called her friends.

The man that used to have her heart.

“I really wasn’t expecting to see you down here,’ he said. “I'm sorry about the debacle the boys put you through, they didn't know.”

Memories of the chase came back at his words.

“My bag!” She frantically looked around. “Where's my bag!?”

“Woah, woah. Easy there!” Ralph cooed, motioning with his hands in an attempt to calm her down. “It's right there, on the floor next to the bed.”

She sighed in relief upon looking down and spotting the leather bag with gold and white accents she brought from Piltover.

Ralph chuckled. “So, how are you feeling?”

She lightly shook her head with a sneer. Such a mundane question felt almost comical at this point. She exhaled before responding. “A bit tired, but nothing to write home about…”

“Glad to hear it,” there was a shift in his eyes, as if a mask fell off. “Now, can you tell me exactly what you are doing back here in the Lanes?”

She frowned. “Why's that important? It's me Ralph, the Undercity is basically my home.”

Ralph leaned over, a more serious expression adorning his features. “You have to understand, (Y/N), the Undercity and the Topside are basically at war. It is very suspicious to have a Piltie wandering around the neighborhood.”

“I'm not a Piltie!” She scoffed, clearly offended. “You fancy me a spy or something?”

“Not me, I know who you are,” he continued. “But the others don't. And I need a good explanation to give them about someone from up there just happening to be here, especially with the little trick you pulled on poor Nadir.”

She grimaced as worry tugged at her. 

“The one who took my bag,” she whispered. “Is he ok?”

“He's fine, just a little shaken. He'll live.”

She sighed in relief. Ralph kept eyeing her, suspicion still heavy on the pinch of his brow.

“Let's start with that,” he continued. “Was that some new fancy weapon Piltover developed for us?”

She blinked in bewilderment. “Of course not! Why would you think I'd be the one to contraband Piltovan weapons to use on Zaunites?”

Ralph didn't answer. Instead he studied her face, seemingly checking if it betrayed her words.

“Then what was it? Nadir said that he couldn't move after you shot him. And that somehow you undid it with your hands.”

She exhaled, looking down at her hands. At this angle, one could assume her marbled appendage was but a glove or some form of accessory, and not her actual limb. 

Would it be wise to lay everything out to Ralph? That she was essentially a mage now, something unusual enough to be anyone's guess what kind of reaction the Zaunites would have?

On the other hand, what would omitting her newfound abilities really do? Was this sort of preservation even necessary at this point? She didn't have anywhere to go, no reputation to uphold, no legacy to keep. 

Maybe this new identity might put a bigger target on her back. But could also be the key to open new doors on her path.

She was willing to take the risk.

“There's a lot I need to tell. Bear with me.”

She told Ralph about Viktor. How she indeed became romantically involved with him. How his health drastically declined during the last years of their relationship. About her research on mages and the subsequent quest that it led her to.

Ralph listened patiently without a word, his expression unreadable.

“I ended up in Targon and, although I couldn't bring a mage back with me,” she pulled her sleeve up, fully revealing the marbled arm. “I brought back a neat souvenir.”

With a knitted brow, Ralph got up from his seat, carefully getting closer to her. His eyes locked on her arm.

“What is that?”

“An arm,” she said matter-of-factly. “That's also a conduit for magic.”

She offered her arm up towards him. He studied it, carefully touching her marbled forearm with sheer curiosity, her words gradually sinking in.

“You became a mage?”

“Yes. Well, technically a host for an Aspect,” she replied. “Supposedly, I can heal people now.”

“Were you able to heal Viktor?”

The tightness in her chest returned. Guilt tore her insides, like a knife between her ribs. She swallowed back a lump forming in her throat before speaking.

“When I got back, he was already gone.”

His eyes shot up from her arm, acknowledging her words. 

“I'm so sorry to hear that.”

Ralph let go of her arm, sitting beside her on the bed. He shed whatever guarded facade he was putting up until now, instead wearing a familiar soft expression. She found comfort in that.

Enough to break her own facade down as tears began rolling down her face.

Ralph wrapped his arms around her at the sight, pulling her into his chest. The gentleness of the act paired with nostalgic familiarity that was him made her feel unusually safe. And she let go, the tears crashing down like a downpour, staining his shirt in its wake. She sobbed as he soothed her, gently running his fingers through her hair.

She felt so weak, as thin as paper. Coming undone on a moment’s notice. A house that wasn't a home, with no beans, pillars or columns - standing on its walls alone. The whole of it coming down on the slightest of breezes.

She pulled herself away from him after calming down, sitting up straight again. 

“I'm sorry about this…”

“Don't be,” he cooed. “You went through a lot, I'm not sure what I would do with myself if Lyanna d-.” He paused, rethinking his next words. “If I lost Lyanna.”

They sat in silence for a bit, not knowing what to say next. But somehow it was comfortable, as if time hadn't passed and they were still two kids again, without a care in the world. She was glad, she desperately needed some semblance of normalcy.

Ralph was the first to break the silence.

“Tell me more about this arm of yours,” he turned to her. “How does it work?”

She held her marbled arm, studying the golden veins on its surface. “Honestly, I'm not sure. The most I did with it was what happened with that Nadir guy.”

Ralph hummed, a wishful glint behind his eyes as he once again analyzed her limb. He then looked down as his own right arm. 

“May I ask you to try something?”

With his left arm, he pulled the jacket he wore off, just enough to unveil his right arm.

Or what was left of it.

Her eyes grew wide in stupor at the sight. His arm was missing from the middle of his biceps down, the limb crudely bandaged up at the bottom. The tissue was tinted red with dried blood. 

“Oh gods, what happened!?”

He chuckled dryly. “Enforcer bomb went out right next to me, I was lucky it only took my arm.”

“Ok,” she exhaled in resolution. “You want me to try to heal that wound?”

“Actually… Can you try bringing my arm back?”

Her eyes shot up to his face in exasperation.

“That's one tall order!”

“Could you at least try?,” he pleaded. “You said you weren't sure how those powers worked, but you did heal a man from being paralyzed.”

She scoffed. “Paralyzing that I inflicted in the first place!”

“All the more reasons to try then, that arm seems to be packing quite a punch.”

“I'm not sure about that…”

“Please, (Y/N),” the vulnerability in his voice caught her off-guard. “I need both my arms to work. We've been fighting for scraps ever since the conflict with Topside broke out, the loss of my arm only made providing for my family that much harder.”

With a deep breath, she reached Ralph's damaged arm with her marbled hand. Carefully as not to hurt him, she pressed her palm on top of the bandages.

“Here goes nothing.”

Closing her eyes, she tried to perform the same method she did when healing Nadir. She pictured Ralph with his right arm outstretched, the bottom part of his stump free of bandages, all the innards exposed. His humerus slowly regenerated, growing out of the upper arm region until it was complete, the radius, ulna and the hand following right after. Once the bones were settled, all muscles, tendons and ligaments acted the same way, until his whole arm was good as new. She then prayed, begged to the Celestials and the Aspect of the Immortal Flame to regenerate Ralph's arm. To bring back his full range of motions.

Her marbled arm hummed with energy, like an electric current traveling from her core to her palm in waves. Her breath hitched, weariness setting in as if she was on a jog, her energy getting steadily drained. But she persisted as much as she could, until the lightheadness she felt verged into a fainting spell. 

Letting go of his arm, she panted as she caught her breath. She blinked a few times after opening her eyes in an attempt to get rid of the spots dancing around her vision. She glanced at Ralph's arm once she composed herself.

Where once was a badly bruised stump, with bloodied scars still inflamed, was a stump smooth and completely healed. The skin all around it even seemed fuller and healthier. 

But there was no new arm in sight. Whatever healing she could muster couldn't create new flesh.

Her eyes met Ralph's, whose crestfallen expression told her he had arrived at the same conclusion.

But he quickly shook his head, smiling at her.

“At least you sped the healing process. It's a relief to get rid of the soreness.”

He then proceeded to take a big stretch with a loud yawn, before making a thespian show for getting up.

“If you don't have somewhere to stay, you should come to my place. I think Ekko would be interested in having you and those powers join his ranks.”

---------------------------------------------------

Ekko was indeed interested to have her and her powers join his ranks. Ralph led her to what she'd learn was the Firelight’s hideout - an oasis hidden at the upper level of the Undercity. A resistance group that once fought against the exploitation of Undercitizens in the hands of chembarons, and now fought back against Topsider’s occupation and forced pacification. 

The people of the Hideout had mixed feelings towards her at first. There were those suspicious of someone who came from the Topside, hosting magic inside a bizarre arm. However, there were also those who knew her from when she was known as the Architect from the Academy, responsible for leading urban projects for the betterment of the Undercity. Soon, the suspicion thinned out, thanks to the vouching of Ralph and Lyanna, and she started to use her newfound powers for the sake of the community the Firelights had created.

Having a purpose again helped her navigate her grief better. With each smile her healing helped provide, each burden she helped lift, her consciousness felt a little less heavy. Viktor would be pleased, having his legacy survived in her, despite the suffering she'd previously caused him.

She learned of a mural on which the Firelights would paint the faces of notorious Undercitizens lost. After a while, she convinced them to add Viktor's face to the roster - a fellow Undercitizen Scholar who fought tooth and nail to make the Lanes s better place. She'd find herself looking up at him often; somehow, it brought her comfort to see his face among his people again. It kept her resolve firm in assisting Ralph and the Firelights.

Although the community was very self-sustainable, she learned that the conflict between Topside and the Undercity had created scarcity. One method they found of somewhat countering it was stealing as much as they could from the people outside the Hideout - especially from Pilties. That was what happened to her on her first day back - Ralph’s team spotted her gilded bag from a mile away, and so she’d become a target.

One day, after one of these expeditions, Ralph came up to her as she was doing some healing on an elderly Lady. 

“Hey.”

He called from behind her.

“Give me a second, Ralph.” 

She had her eyes closed, as she gently pressed her marbled palm on the lady's upper back. After a while, the glow of the veins on her arm faded out as she exhaled.

“There, Mrs. Siva. You should be able to breathe better now.” She beamed at the lady. On cue, Mrs. Siva took a long and unobstructed breath and smiled.

“Good heavens, the rasping is gone,” the Old Lady exclaimed. She turned around, taking both of the girl's hands. “Thank you kindly, my dear.”

The girl smiled back. “Don't mention it. Come back to me whenever you need.”

As Mrs. Siva left, the girl turned to face Ralph. Her eyes widened as she saw him.

“Your arm!”

Ralph smiled, waving at her with his hand. His new right hand. Connected to his new right arm. From the middle of his upper arm, where once was nothing, a mechanical prosthetic arm sprung, in steel and copper. 

Prosthetics and augmentations were common in the Undercity, but with conflict causing both scarcity and destruction, rendering more and more people in need of mechanized limbs, they had become difficult to come by. That in itself would be enough cause to be surprised at Ralph's new acquisition, but this one also had a… refinement that was not commonly seen. She watched him wave at her, his movements natural and smooth, as if it was a real arm. If she didn't know, it could've easily been mistaken for a weird over-the-elbow metallic glove and not a prosthetic.

“That's amazing! Where did you get that?”

“It is, isn't it?” He twirled his wrist around, opening and closing his fingers. “I heard people talking about this guy’s workshop at the Entresol level and I decided to check it out. Turns out he was the real deal!”

“It must have cost a fortune,” she commented, getting up from her stool, and reaching for his new arm in awe. 

“Would you believe me if I said it didn't cost me a single penny? The dude's doing this from the goodness of his heart or something.”

“Oh, wow,” she muttered. Instinctively, she glanced back at the painted mural, spotting Viktor. “I'm glad there's still people out there just making people's lives better.”

“Tell me about it, although… “ he scratched his chin, his eyes looking away from her. “He was mighty impressed with how the arm had healed before he did the procedure, and I ended up telling him about… Well, about you.”

Her eyes shot back at him with a scowl.

“Are you insane?”

“Wait wait, hear me out. Do you see this?” He brought both of his hands close to each other, touching each finger from his flesh hand to his prosthetic one rhythmically, with an impossible precision. “This kind of finesse is not a thing when it comes to prosthetics, and he theorized that life-like movements are a direct result of the interface between his tech and your healing magic.”

She hummed in response, eyes trailing his prosthetic arm again. Failing to bring Ralph’s arm back had pained her. It made her reminisce of her own time being an amputee, how even the most simple of tasks suddenly became a hassle in the face of her disability. She also watched him being often cast aside in the hideout, even when done not maliciously - the lack of his limb made him a liability. But now he had his arm back - and a damn good one at that. 

Imagine if all of the people in the hideout in need of a limb had a fine prosthetic like Ralph now possessed. 

“He said he was interested in meeting you.”

She blinked a few times out of her thoughts. With a long exhale, she turned to look at Ralph.

“I’m interested in meeting him too.”

---------

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 (In Progress)

[prvt-tucker]

Coffee and Cigarettes: A Viktor x f!Reader Rehab AU

TWs: mentions of drug use (future, not this chapter) mentions of anorexia and bulimia, smoking, mental health issues

Summary: You didn’t exactly sign up to spend part of your time as a scholarship student at the elite Piltover Academy on medical leave at a co-Ed rehab for those who struggle with addiction, but you want to keep your academic standing, so here you are.

You also didn’t sign up for the cute theoretical physics major turned fellow patient with the golden eyes and irresistible accent, either

A/N: hi all I’m backkkkk it’s about damn time!!! I’m currently going through a very transient period in my life and all that, and I haven’t watched act 2 yet due to that but I do know Jinx and Vik meet, and ik he calls her Powder. I figure that he would call her Jinx here if she wanted it though. I may have made reader a cello player because my sweet golden retriever of a boyfriend plays the cello lmao

I’ll have 15 months clean + sober at the end of November, gd willing 🙏💜

—-

The ward smelt of antiseptic. Wait—no. This isn’t a ward. You’re bleary eyed and tired from the meds they’ve given you to detox; being shuffled from a more intensive unit to this co-Ed rehab just feels like a blurry stop on a long road.

Your belongings are in a plastic “patient belongings” bag and a single wheelie bag; you hadn’t planned on this. On any of this.

On the Disaster. On having to take a leave from the elite Piltover Academy, the university where you had gotten a scholarship as a music student. The Dean said your scholarship wasn’t in danger; that the department just wanted you well again.

You didn’t know what you wanted anymore.

The intake isn’t much of a change as before. Name. Vitals. A new hospital bracelet to replace the other. Answering the same questions over and over, as though they aren’t in your file. You want to crawl into bed and stay there forever.

The charge nurse, a no-nonsense woman whose name tag reads “Sevika” seems done with you before you even open your mouth.

As you sit there, in the hard plastic chair, drawing your knees up to your chin, a short, blue haired girl approaches the nurses’ station.

She’s thin. Too thin, her collar bones sticking out and her cheeks hollow. You know that look, the look of malnourishment, and envy burns worse than the stomach acid.

“Sevika—“ the girl starts, and Sevika holds up her hand in a “stop” motion.

“I’m busy. Intake.”

“You can’t just—“

“Jinx. Unless your arm is about to fall off or something, it can wait twenty minutes. Go talk to Lest.”

“Fuck you too.”

Sevika rolls her eyes, and turns her attention back to you. “Well, now I can say you’ve met your roommate.”

“My roommate?”

“You’ll be in Room 2 with Jinx. We’re gonna keep your luggage locked up here until after dinner when the night staff can search your belongings for contraband with you.”

You want to say that if you possibly had contraband it would have been taken at the detox; that Sevika surely would know that given your paperwork. But she doesn’t seem like the type you want to get into a pissing contest with, especially on your first day.

Finally, she lets you go with a gruff, “you can go into the community room now,” flagging down a lackey to lead you, still shell-shocked, down a hallway and through a pair of double doors.

The community room is a little rough around the edges, but you can forgive that, given you’re more than a little rough around the edges yourself.

There’s a few couches scattered here and there, a plain wooden table in the back with some chairs drilled into the floor. A series of cubbies along one wall, with personalized name tags clearly designed by one of the patients’ in blue and pink paints.

A bookshelf with a small lending library of books; if your mind wasn’t so fuzzy you would gravitate towards here immediately. If you weren’t busy with your cello, your head is always buried in some book or another. It didn’t exactly make you the most popular growing up.

Maybe that was why—

No. That was stupid.

You stand on the precipice, the stupid binder they’ve given you on entry held close to your chest, taking in the scene around you, of the other fuck ups in the cage, so to speak. There’s the blue-haired girl, the skinny one, that’s supposed to be your roommate. She’s sitting all wrong on one of the tall-backed armchairs, the kind that you used to see in the Academy library. In the matching armchair next to her is possibly the most attractive boy you’ve ever seen.

All lanky limbs and sharp angles, with bright golden eyes and thick brown hair you immediately want to run your hands through. His crutch is next to the chair, and he has an Academy pin on the lapel of his vest—his shirt underneath is rolled to the elbows and you keep thinking about his forearms for some reason.

Oh god, this is bad.

Your mouth goes dry, and it gets worse when you notice he has the most perfect mole by his mouth, begging to be caught by an errant kiss. Your heart is hammering in your chest and your realize that not only is this quite possibly the worst “first day of school” vibe ever, but you haven’t said anything for the past thirty seconds like some sort of startled creature afraid of her own shadow.

The blue-haired girl throws a wad of paper at the Beautiful Boy’s head. “Hey, Vitya!”

“I told you to stop throwing things at my head.”

Oh, his accent is enough to bring you to your knees, too.

“Fine. But look! We got a new one! And Sevika said she’s rooming with me!”

Vitya—if that’s his name—turns his attention to you, and you don’t know what to say or do.

Thankfully, you don’t have to. An effortlessly cool young woman takes control, sticking her hand out for you to shake, blocking your view of the boy.

“I’m so sorry they just left you like this. Lest. One of the floor counselors.”

“The only cool one,” Blue Hair drawls from the corner.

“Jinx—“ Lest doesn’t even pretend to be mad.

“Would you like to introduce yourself?”

You shrug your shoulders, mutter your name. That’s enough, apparently, and you are about to go hide in a corner, but no such luck.

“Hey! New roomie!” Jinx waves you over.

“Hm?”

Jinx hangs off the chair. “I scared off the last roommate.”

“Jinx, you snuck contraband up your—“ Vitya points out in a matter of fact tone.

Jinx cuts him off with the wave of a hand. “Details, Viktor. Does it really matter?”

“Well, yes.”

You laugh. You can’t help it. Viktor has a wry sense of humor; you can see the twinkle in his eyes when he speaks, and it’s precisely the same type you enjoy. The sound seems to catch him off guard, and he looks at you up and down for a long moment; you find yourself wondering if you’re being studied, and it takes a lot of effort to keep your gaze level.

A click of a doorknob and heavy footsteps.

“Jinx, meds.” Sevika.

“Do I have to?”

“What do you think?”

“Ugh, fine.” Jinx gets up, blue braids trailing behind her, leaving just you and Vitya-Viktor. You’re still standing awkwardly, not sure if you’re bold enough to take her spot.

“She has a thing about the chair,” he says, as if he knew exactly what you were thinking.

“I mean, I get it. If I had been here a while I would probably have a favorite too.”

You settle for the floor, drawing one knee up to your chest and circling it with your arm.

“It has been a while.”

Shit. If this is what Jinx looked like after a while in treatment, you probably didn’t want to see what the “before” was. You decide to change the subject.

“Vitya or Viktor?”

“An abrupt topic change.”

“I noticed you were called both. I was wondering what your name is.”

At this, you are gifted a rare smile from him, something you know you’ll be playing over and over again in your mind.

“It’s Viktor.”

——

[geebritt]

Birds of a Feather - Chapter 1

Prologue [x] AO3 [x]

The rare feeling of direct sunlight beating down on your skin had your cheeks widening into a large smile as you raised your arms towards the sky in a deep stretch.

“One day, I'm gonna ride in one of those things.” Powder announced in awe from behind you, marvelling at the airship travelling overhead. You turned to grin at the small girl.

“I'd put money on that.” You laughed, ruffling her pretty blue hair. She returned your grin with one of her own, practically bouncing with energy.

“And one day,” Mylo's snide tone had your smile quickly dropping. “I'm gonna shoot one of ‘em down.” He quipped, aiming a finger gun to the ship and mimicking pulling the trigger.

Your eyes rolled in exasperation. “Now that - that's not a bet that I would waste my coin on.” Powder snickered a laugh when Mylo shoved your shoulder, which you quickly returned with extra force.

“Are you sure about this, Vi?” Claggor. Poor, sweet, naive Claggor. As if this was something that Vi could be talked out of. “Look, if we get caught, we're…” Like clockwork, Vi cut off his sentence.

“We're not gonna get caught.” She said with all the confidence that you're sure Vander carried at her age. Claggor looked over to you, as if expecting you to intervene - you instead offered him a shrug of indifference. “We'll be in and out before anyone even notices.”

It was exhilarating. The feeling of sunshine on your face, and wisps of wind running through your dark, shaggy hair, as you leapt from rooftop to rooftop. If it were up to you - you'd spend every day of your life flying from roof to roof. It was the only time that you felt untouchable… truly free.

Following Vi and the boys, you landed, light-footed, on the roof - having launched over from a small balcony homing a plate of pink-frosted cupcakes.

The sight of the sweet treats sitting abandoned had your mouth forming into a sneer. The Pilties were afforded so much privilege that they had no qualms about leaving food out to rot or be eaten by birds - while Zaunites in the Fissures had to fight tooth and nail for what the Topsiders would consider scraps. It wasn't fair.

“Couldn't we have at least just walked there?” Claggor asked Vi.

“Gotta stay outta sight for this one.” Vi told him in a serious tone. You considered telling the pink-haired girl to lighten up a little, and take a moment to enjoy the journey there. But you knew that she wouldn't want to hear it, so instead, you kept the thought to yourself and stayed quiet.

You clapped a hand on his back with a laugh. “Where's the fun in that, Clag?” He huffed a small laugh in reluctant agreement.

Vi suddenly looked away from Claggor. You followed her line of sight with your own eyes to see Powder still on the roof across the divide. Fear was evident in her big, blue eyes.

“Called it.” Mylo announced smugly, causing you to look over in his direction with narrowed eyes. “This is on you, Vi.”

“Does your trap ever shut, Mylo?” You called to him, receiving a glare of daggers from him in response.

“I'll get her.” Claggor said, beginning to stand from his crouched position.

“No!” Vi stopped him - looking to Powder with determination. “Powder, look at me.” You looked back to Powder to see the nerves still evident on her face. “What did I tell you?”

“That…” She took a deep breath, and when her eyes opened, the fear had been replaced with a bravery that had you smiling proudly. “That I'm ready.” She declared.

“That's right. So?” 

You whooped loudly, calling out in encouragement, “Go Pow-Pow. You've got this!”

Powder managed the complex manoeuvre just barely. The jump ended with her hanging off the edge of the roof, with Vi holding onto her hand securely - a proud smile adorning her face. Your heart would have been warmed if it weren't currently in your throat, having jumped up in fear while watching the little girl nearly fall to her demise.

“Phew.” Powder breathed. “Thanks.” And you had to fight the urge to thank Vi for catching her too - though you knew that there was no way in the world that she would have let her little sister fall.

The panic in you slowly dissipated, and pride took its place. You laughed as you high-fived powder - congratulating her on a job well done, while she smiled in delight.

Your eyes followed another airship flying overhead as your small group scooted alongside a narrow edge of the penthouse's roof.

“What if Vander finds out we're all the way up here?” Oh Gods, don't even say that, you thought with a grimace. You couldn't bear putting up with another one of Vander's infamous ‘I'm disappointed in you’ lectures. Sure, you were older than the others, but that didn't mean you could control them. If they were going to be out pulling off dangerous jobs, you'd rather be out with them watching their backs than trying fruitlessly to talk them out of it.

“Look around you.” Violet gestured to the lavish city below you. “You think anyone Topside's going hungry?” The answer was obvious. “And besides, this is exactly the type of job that Vander would have pulled when he was our age.”

She wasn't wrong. The stories that Felicia shared with you about their ‘wild escapades’ while growing up always had you giggling - that was before Vander had caught wind of it.

‘And that's about enough of those stories.’ Vander had said one evening, as you and Felicia sat gossiping at the bar. ‘The last thing that we need is another me running around causing trouble.’ The words had been said with a raised eyebrow and a smirk, but under his amused tone, you'd been able to sense the seriousness to his words.

Felicia had tried to spiritedly argue back that you would find out one way or another, but Vander had pointed a finger at her and playfully accused her of trying to corrupt you.

After that, though, the stories of their ‘Wild Child’ days became fewer and far between - much to your disappointment.

“I'm going. Are you with me or not?” Vi already knew that you had her back, and obviously Powder would follow her to the ends of the Runeterra - this question was clearly for the boys.

Clagger's loud sigh gave his answer before his words. “Vander's gonna kill us.”

Before you could agree with him, Vi retorted, “Yeah, only if we screw up. So don't screw up.”

Expertly, Vi swung down from the roof, and once she called the all clear, you were all quickly following down onto a rather spacious balcony. Oh yeah, this belonged to a rich Piltie - that's for sure. You just hoped that the loot from this job would be enough to satiate the girl for a while.

“Remember, guys.” You did your best to put your ‘Big Sister Pants’ on and set the ground rules. “Twenty minutes - in and out. Any - and I mean any signs of someone coming, and we're out. I don't care if it's been two minutes. No loot is worth getting arrested. No man left behind.” You knew that the only person truly taking your words on board was little Powder. Smiling as you pinched her cheek - you were grateful that she hadn't reached her rebellious teenage years yet.

The door was quickly opened - thanks to Vi’s boot, and not Mylo's lock-picking skills. Much to his annoyance - which he voiced by calling the rest of you ‘animals’ - earning him an amused snort from you as you brushed past him.

Your jaw dropped as you entered the large room - you span on your heels to grasp the full extent of it. The room was jam-packed with books, gadgets, and trinkets - oh yeah, you had definitely hit the jackpot here. 

As the others began ransacking the room and filling the rucksack with loot, your eyes were drawn to a small connecting walkway. “Hey, I think there's another room. I'll go check it out.” You announced.

At the end of the small corridor was a closed door. Approaching it quietly, you pushed your ear to the surface, listening intently to be sure that no one was on the other side. Once you were satisfied by the silence, you quietly pushed it open and stepped inside.

“Whoa.” You muttered, stepping further into the small room and admiring the trinkets lining the shelves. A couple of shining, gilded objects caught your eye, and you quickly scooped them up, admiring the weight before stashing them safely in your pockets.

“Find anything good?” A small voice chirped, and you nearly jumped out of your skin, whirling around quickly to see Powder in the doorway.

“I don't know. Could be trash, could be treasure.” You grinned as she entered the room. A quiet whoop left her mouth when she discovered two sandwiches sitting on top of a large blueprint. Quickly, she rushed over, picking one up and taking a large bite out of it, sighing deeply at the taste.

“What sort of heathen abandons a perfectly good sandwich?” You muttered, picking up the second sandwich and biting into it. You had to admit - it was one damn good sandwich. While you chewed the food, you lifted up the blueprint off the table; eyes squinting, trying to decipher it. If engineering was your strong suit as opposed to physics, maybe you'd be able to decode what this person was trying to build.

“Huh?” At the sound of Powder's voice, you dropped the parchment and followed her gaze to a large chest sitting on the table. You almost laughed when she tried to drag the chest from the table - letting out a punched out sound of strain at the effort.

“Pow-Pow.” You giggled. “What have I told you? Work smarter, not harder.” Your deft fingers scanned the chest for a latch before feeling a small ‘click’ on the side. Both your and Powder's eyes widened as you watched the chest open. Contained inside, glowing ominously, were six electric-blue crystals.

“Whoa.” You both breathed simultaneously in awe. Inquisitive as always, Powder reached in and plucked one of the crystals from its cradle, lifting it up to her eye to inspect it closely.

Curiously, you reached into the chest to pluck one of the remaining gemstones from their cradle, only to let out a yelp at the shock of an electric zap to your finger when it made contact with the blue stone.

“Ouch.” You mumbled, sticking the affected finger in your mouth, causing Powder to giggle.

Suddenly, your heart stopped as you heard a rattling at the door to the entryway, and Vi's desperate instructions of, “Guys, we gotta go!”

“Hello?” You could hear the concerned voice of a man through the door - the handle rattling as he tried to open the barricaded entryway. “Is someone in there?” The rattling grew more forceful as the voice morphed into a panicked yell. “Hey, open up!”

Powder's nimble fingers quickly collected the six stones, jamming them into her pouch as you pulled her towards Vi at the doorway.

“Wait!” She gasped, and your eyes followed hers, watching as one of the gemstones fell to the floor and began to roll away.

“Go. I've got it.” You told her as you passed her to Vi's arms. There was no telling how much these stones were worth - you'd bet they were worth more than any of the trinkets lining the shelves. “I'll be right there.” You assured Vi, seeing the worried look in her eyes. She nodded and turned, dragging Powder with her - the younger girl looking back with unbridled anxiety in her watery eyes.

You quickly turned on your heel, running back into the room to retrieve the crystal that was rapidly rolling away. Hastily, you dropped to your knees and scrambled towards the stone as it rolled under the bed, before…

-

-

You don't know what it was that your brain comprehended first. The blinding flash of light filling your vision. The weightlessness of being thrown like a ragdoll through the air. The unnatural feeling of a foreign, unfamiliar electrical current pulsing through your veins. Or, possibly, the agonising pain coursing through the back of your skull, emanating from where it had made impact with the wall.

The room was silent - save for the static buzzing in your ears - and you had to blink a few times to clear the spots from your vision.

You felt light and fuzzy all over, boneless, almost as if you were in a dream. Your pounding head unwillingly lolled to the side, and you winced in pain as you felt the hot, sticky, uncomfortable sensation of blood running down the back of your neck. 

A large hole was now in the door - drawing your eyes through to meet a pair of hazel hues. The dark brows above said eyes furrowed, as the man slumped against the wall looked at you in shock and confusion. It was only a moment or two of staring - but it felt like much longer - before his eyes began to roll back, and he collapsed to the side, unconscious.

You barely registered yourself being tugged to your feet by two sets of hands, and the cottony static in your ears dissolved away until you could hear the sound of your siblings shouting your name. The look of fear in Vi's eyes was palpable as she held your cheeks in her hands, lightly slapping the skin in an attempt to break through your shock. A few more blinks of your eyes, and suddenly - as if being plunged into cold water - you came back to yourself.

“Come on. You're okay.” Vi was muttering, looking over your body, checking for any injuries that would prove otherwise. The words were directed at you, but you could tell that she was subconsciously trying to reassure herself that you indeed were okay. You nodded to her - quelling her fears. “We gotta go.” She told you with a sharp intensity.

You nodded but didn't answer - allowing yourself to be pulled out by Vi and Claggor to the balcony.

“Shit!” You heard Vi hiss as she looked down at the Enforcers below, peering up at you all and shouting. Turning to you, she grasped your shoulders tightly. “Are you going to be able to run?” She asked you frantically.

You nodded, then grimaced at the responding pain from your neck. “Y-yeah. I'm good.” Vi swallowed and nodded back at you.

You honestly don't know how you had all managed to escape Piltover - relatively unscathed. Never would you have thought that you'd be so happy to be laying in a heap of garbage in a landfill, covered in filthy sludge - but evidently, there was a first for everything. 

You honestly don't know how some of the Enforcers’ Bolas hadn't captured at least one of you. The precision they'd been thrown was immaculate. You'd had to thank your lucky stars each time the contraptions had veered off course at the last moments.

“Your nose is bleeding.” Powder muttered, crawling over the filthy rubbish to reach you. You reached up to touch the blood leaking from your right nostril. “Oh, I didn't even notice.” You replied with a small laugh, grateful that it had seemingly stopped of its own accord.

Powder gently reached out to wipe away the blood with her fabric arm bracers; nodding to herself when she was satisfied that she'd sufficiently cleaned you up. You smiled softly and ruffled her hair fondly.

“Thought last time was the last time we were gonna do this.” Mylo grumbled from his place in the litter, and you had to roll your eyes. Of course he would find something to complain about after pulling off the heist of the century.

“Well, this time's the last time.” Vi affirmed. You had your doubts.

“Guys, what was that? What the hell happened back there?” Claggor stammered, obviously still shaken by the whole ordeal. You really couldn't blame him - your whole body still trembled from the adrenaline. Both boys turned, looking accusingly at Powder, causing your brows to furrow deeply.

“I don't know. I didn't do anything.” She retorted, looking as offended as you felt for her.

“You could fill a damn library with all the things you didn't do.” Mylo shot back with a tone of annoyance.

“Hey, Mylo. Shut the fuck up, okay? You're making my headache worse.” You groaned, flopping back to lie against the trash. The skin on the back of your neck stretched uncomfortably, the dried blood beginning to flake off.

“Oh, I'll really make your headache worse if you’re not careful.” He snarked back, causing you to snort and hold up a middle finger towards him. That boy was all bark and no bite.

“Guys,” Vi leapt in to diffuse the tension. “We just emptied a Piltover penthouse right under the enforcers' noses.” Heist of the century. “So, if you're done beating yourselves up, let's get this home.” She announced proudly.

As you made your way back to the Undercity, you silently mourned at the fact that you would soon be apart from the sun once more. You loved your home - you really did - but a part of your soul always longed to be above the world, basking in the soft, warm rays of light. 

Trailing behind your four siblings, you couldn't help but smile as Claggor slung an arm playfully across Mylo's shoulders. Your family was your entire world. You'd sooner snuff out the sun than ever leave them behind.

“Nice haul?” A smug voice drawled as your group walked past. You turned to see that the source of the voice was a young, blonde thug lazing on a wooden box. His eyes locked onto the bag on Vi's back with a slimy grin. As your eyes narrowed, you felt the hairs on the back of your neck begin to stand on end.

“You could say that.” Your stare snapped to Mylo, and you had to suppress your immediate urge to punch him. Idiot.

“C’mon, let's go.” You muttered, ushering the rest of the group to keep moving forward.

“I heard there was some action across the river.” You all froze at the boy’s words. News had travelled quickly. This wasn't good. Your eyes shifted to him again, narrowing sharply as he nonchalantly flipped a coin over each of his knuckles. “Someone really kicked the nest, huh?” He mused with a dangerous smirk in your direction.

“Is that so?” Vi responded coolly - her poker-face was something to be admired. Turning to brush him off, she hesitated, and you looked up to see that two more youths had moved to block the path. A dark chuckle had you clenching your fists.

“But now, you're tracking this mess of yours through my streets.” You scoffed, cracking your knuckles.

“Your streets? What makes you think-” Vi started incredulously, before Claggor quickly cut her off, trying to defuse the situation.

“Listen, we don't want any trouble, okay?” He stated, but a laugh from behind you had you gritting your teeth.

“Hear that, Deckard? They don't want any trouble.” As a new voice spoke, your eyes flicked over the approaching miscreants, silently counting their number. Your mind raced, calculating the odds - would your group walk away unscathed if this turned violent?

“You know,” Deckard drawled. “In my experience, trouble finds you. There's no reason this has to get ugly.” He lilted. Your nose crinkled into a sneer when he sent a smirk your way before turning to address Vi. “How about you share a little taste of your treasure there, and we'll call it even?”

“No, no, no,” Mylo spoke up. “We worked too hard to-” He was cut short by Violet grabbing his shoulder as she stepped past him.

“Just a taste?” She asked Deckard softly with feigned innocence.

Oh, this was happening. You cracked your sore, stiff neck, readying yourself for the inevitable brawl. Some warning so you could limber up would have been nice, you thought with an amused huff.

“Just a ta-” Deckard didn't even get to finish the words before Vi had swung the heavy bag of loot to crash against the side of his face, effectively knocking him to the ground. Said bag was quickly launched into Powder's arms as the rest of you raised your fists, ready for the incoming onslaught.

Hearing heavy footfall behind you, you spun around just in time to dodge a fist aimed at your head. Ducking, you moved quickly and fluidly - the punch sailing over your head. With a sharp pivot, you spun on your heel, using the momentum to bring your knee up into your attacker's stomach. He doubled over, coughing, but recovered faster than you expected. Before you could move out of the way, the heavy fist of your attacker was ploughing into your cheekbone painfully.

You stumbled back, hand over your cheek, and steeled yourself to attack again, when a flash of blue caught your attention. Powder was running away through the street - bag of loot secured on her back - being quickly pursued by one of Deckard's gang members.

“Pow!” You yelled, side stepping your assailant to run after them. You didn't get more than five steps away when arms wrapped around you from behind, pinning your arms to your side and tackling you to the ground. A loud groan of pain sounded from you as your chin smacked the rough surface of the pavement.

“We're not done here.” A gravelly voice growled from behind you. An enraged scream tore through your lips as you kicked and squirmed, trying fruitlessly to knock the weight off your back, pinning you down. A breath tickled the back of your ear as the boy holding you down spoke, “Not so tough now, hmm?”

Taking a deep breath in through your nose, you quickly snapped your head back, effectively ramming the back of your already-abused skull into his nose. You both simultaneously let out a roar of pain, and you felt the wound on your scalp open back up, allowing fresh blood to run freely to the ground.

With a loud grunt, you pulled yourself to your feet - hands holding the back of your head in pain.

“Fuck you, you motherfucker.” You screeched ferally. The thug kneeled on the ground, bent down almost as if in prayer - howling in pain and cupping his obviously broken nose. Raising your leg as high as your tendons would allow, you screamed in effort as you snapped it down with force, bringing the heel of your heavy boot down onto the back of his head. The pained howling stopped as his head cracked into the pavement below.

Not wasting any more precious moments, you took off running in the direction that you had seen Powder heading only minutes ago.

Following the path, you continued to run while yelling out to Powder - your anxiety increasing with each step. As you ran, a large plank of loose wood perched against the wall of the alley - as if sent by the Gods - caught your eye. Your hand closed around it without breaking your stride, and it was quickly slung over your shoulder as you broke through to the docks - just in time to see Powder tossing the heavy bag of treasures into the lake. You let out a loud battle-cry as you launched yourself towards the teen boy who was leaning over the railing, desperately trying to spot the heavy bag sinking into the murky waters below. Swinging the plank with all your might, you couldn't help but grin maliciously as it collided with his head, and he collapsed to the ground.

“You okay?” You asked Powder after a moment of silence, panting heavily with exhaustion.

“Yeah.” She replied sadly, her big eyes beginning to well with tears. “But, I threw the bag. I-I didn't know what to do.” You dropped the wood next to the unconscious boy and wrapped your arms around the sniffling girl.

“It's okay, Baby Blue.” You soothed, rubbing her back - trying to ignore the feeling of your stomach sinking faster than the bag in the water. “There's always plenty more where that came from. We only have one Powder.” She nuzzled her face into your chest. “You made the right decision. You're worth more than any treasure.”

Her arms tightened around you. “The others will be so mad with me. Mylo-”

You cut her off. “Just leave Mylo to me. It'll be okay.” She looked up at you, and you smiled. “Come on, we'd better get back to the others.” Wrapping an arm around her shoulders, you began to walk back to your siblings together - stepping over some scrap metal that you recognised as a detonated Mouser. 

By the time you reached the others, the sun had begun to set. Vi had run to you both, thoroughly checking over Powder for any injuries.

“I'm fine.” Powder assured her, wrapping her arms around her big sister's waist as Vi hugged her tightly.

“Where's the loot?” Mylo immediately jumped into interrogation, noticing the bag was missing.

“I-” Powder started, but you quickly cut her off.

“I lost it.” Mylo's jaw dropped, and he looked at you incredulously. “Tried to wrestle it off one of those thugs, but it fell into the harbour.” You explained it matter-of-factly. There was no changing the situation, so no use arguing over it.

“You think I believe that?” He yelled, and you felt Powder grab your hand. “You don't make mistakes like that.” He pointed aggressively at Powder. “That jinx does.” He spat venomously.

“Give it a rest, Mylo.” You sneered tiredly. “Unless you feel like going for a swim in the harbour too.”

“I tried to fight him off with Mouser, but... she didn't work.” Powder muttered, half-heartedly trying to defend herself.

“Yeah, who saw that coming?” Mylo sneered, raising his hand in answer to his own question. You rolled your eyes.

“Ugh, We never should have gone over there.” Glaggor groaned, and you couldn't help but silently agree.

Vi spoke up from beside Powder. “Doesn't matter. The stuff's gone.” She pats her little sister on the shoulder. “It's all right, Powder. At least you're okay.

Vi opened the door to the housed elevator - the entrance to the Undercity - and you all piled in.

“Okay? What about us?” That grating voice again. “I get my face bashed in, and she just gets a pass?”

You dug in your pockets for the two small, yet heavy trinkets that you had stashed from the penthouse. “Here.” You pegged them hard at him. “For your troubles.” Mylo yelped, ducking at the last second to dodge them as they flew directly at his forehead - but quickly bent down to collect them as they clattered to the floor.

The five of you piled into the elevator, shuffling awkwardly to get comfortable, before it began to descend, and the dank smell of the Lanes filled your nose.

The door to The Last Drop had an infuriating knack for squeaking at the worst times, always betraying your attempts to sneak out - or back in - much to your frustration. Tonight was no exception. Your eyes scanned the pub briefly before locking onto Vander - who was seated with Huck at a table, opposite two shady seeming characters. Though in Zaun, shady characters were the opposite of far and few between. Vander’s eyes suddenly locking onto yours had your face morphing into a grimace as you averted your gaze to the back of Vi’s head, following her to the basement.

Once you'd safely arrived at the basement, you all immediately flopped onto the couches - all absolutely exhausted from your escapades.

You closed your eyes and tried to ignore the thumping in your head, made only worse by the sound of your siblings bickering.

“Guys.” You moaned. “Can we just relax? It's been an intense day and-” Your voice trailed off as the basement door opened. Vander stood at the top of the stairs, calmer than you'd expected. Maybe he hadn't heard about the explosion in Piltover.

“Everyone alright?” He asked softly, looking over you all - assessing your injuries.

“Never better.” Mylo answered for you all with a sigh.

“Good.” Oh, you'd know that tone anywhere. “I don't suppose you can explain why it is that I'm hearing about an explosion and a foot chase Topside? Five children fleeing the scene.” And there it was. You could never be so lucky. He stopped to look at Vi. “What the hell were you thinking?” You didn't know if you should be relieved that he wasn't addressing you, or be jumping in to defend your sister. 

You opened your mouth to speak, but before you could let loose any words, Vander stopped you with hand. “Uht, don't you even think about speaking right now.” At the words, your mouth immediately closed, and you held up your hands in surrender. Vi was on her own with this one.

“I was thinking that we can handle a real job.” She responded stubbornly.

“A real job?”

“We got our own tip. Planned a route. Nobody even saw.” Digging your grave, Vi. Stop while you're ahead. You'd played this game enough to know that it never ends in your favour.

“You blew up a building.”

“It wasn't the whole building.” You interjected, receiving a glare from Vander. “Okay, yep, shutting up.”

Vander turned back to Vi. “Did you even stop to think about what could have happened to you?” He gestured to the rest of you. “Eh? To them?” Oh, she was getting the whole ‘Vander Guilt Trip Special’ today. He sighed deeply, rubbing his eyes with malaise. “Where did you even get this tip?”

“We just heard it at Benzo's shop.” Powder answered with a squeak - obviously trying to take some of the weight off Vi.

“From?” He looked at you, and you looked away.

“Little man.” Powder answered. Vander sighed again, and you had to wonder how he had any breath left in his body at this point.

Vi stood abruptly. “I took us there. If you wanna be mad, be mad at me. But you're the one who always says we have to earn our place in this world.” Oh, you really didn't have the energy for the conversation right now. Your skull throbbed violently as if agreeing with you.

“I also told you time and time again, the Northside's off-limits.” He's not wrong. Piltover being off-limits was a near daily discussion in the household - a rule that was quite often broken without Vander's knowledge. “We stay out of Piltover's business.”

This had your head snapping over. “When have they ever stayed out of ours?” You snarked. The tone in which Vander growled your name had you sinking back into the couch with an irritated pout, your arms crossed over your body displaying your annoyance.

“Why? They've got plenty, while we're down here scraping together coins.” Vi asked with vitriol. The thought made your blood boil. “When did you get so comfortable living in someone else's shadow?”

Vi's words caused a hiss of air to rush through your teeth as you grimaced. That was a step too far. A low blow. You could tell everyone else in the room had the same thoughts, judging from the shocked expressions on their faces.

“Everyone out.” Vander muttered coolly, though he may as well have screamed it with the speed that everyone got up to evacuate the room.

“Gladly.” You scoffed, sliding off the couch. You spared Vi a sympathetic look before you left the room with the rest of your siblings.

Powder had quickly made herself scarce, announcing to you that she was going to scavenge for more scrap metal. You'd told her to be careful before sitting next to Claggor on the steps outside the basement, to wait for your sister.

“Got a good shiner there.” You grinned at him, leaning over to playfully poke at his swelling eye. He hissed in pain and slapped your hand away before letting out an amused laugh.

“Yours isn't too bad either.” He mused, quickly bringing up his other hand to poke your darkening cheekbone before you could react. You'd yelped at the sudden pain, but it quickly turned to a laugh.

“Shh, I'm trying to listen.” Mylo hissed, and you looked over to see him holding a listening device to the door. You rolled your eyes.

“You guys did good today.” You told them earnestly. Mylo looked at you with surprise at the unexpected praise. “You looked out for each other. Today could have gone a very different way if you hadn't.” Claggor wrapped a big arm around your shoulder and pulled you into his side.

“How are you holding up?” He asked with a smile, but his tone was one of concern. “You had a pretty nasty collision with that wall.”

You snorted. “I'm fine. Had a worse headache from a hangover.” You lied through your teeth. Your skull was screaming in pain, and the uncomfortable electrical pulse lingered behind your eyes and in your teeth. You felt like you were going to vibrate out of your skin. Claggor nodded, but didn't look convinced.

Suddenly hearing Vander's heavy footsteps coming up the stairs in the basement, Mylo nearly jumped out of his skin, quickly moving to act (unconvincingly) like he'd been leaning against the wall the whole time.

The door opened, and Vander emerged carrying a large sack over his shoulder. “Get up, Claggor. We're going out.” He announced

“What, now?” He asked in dismay, clearly exhausted. You patted him on the back in sympathy. Vander ripped the metal contraption out of Mylo's hand and stuffed it in the sack.

“Hey, hey. That's mine.” He protested. You couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for him. In the Undercity, it was rare to have your own possessions - especially if you were a kid. Losing an item, even one as trivial as that, stung.

“You wanna be treated like adults, right?” He threw the heavy bag into Claggor's arms - the boy staggering at the unexpected weight. You threw a frown at Vander. “Then you should know better than to come back from a job empty-handed.” You stepped out of the way, glaring as Vander walked past you - he saw the glare but ignored it. “I'm gonna have a little word with your informant.” He told you all in a ‘don't try me’ tone.

You moved to sit back down, but Vander stopped you. “You're coming with us.” You could have screamed with frustration but knew better to argue. All you wanted to do was sleep, but of course, you weren't that lucky.

The trip to Benzo's was mostly silent after Claggor had explained what had happened Topside. Vander had looked at you from the corner of his eye when Clag got to the part about the explosion, but remained quiet.

When you arrived at Benzo's, Vander had instructed you both to stand guard outside the front door.

“No one comes in.” He'd told you both, giving you one last pointed look before entering the shop and closing the door behind him.

“Ugh. I can feel a lecture approaching.” You groaned, and Claggor huffed a laugh. A large hand patted your shoulder comfortingly.

“I'd offer to take your place, but I don't want to.” He told you with a smirk, trying to lighten the mood. You rolled your eyes and knocked his hand off your shoulder.

“Can't say I blame you.” You said with a toothy grin, moving the lean against the building.

The door to Benzo’s swung open, and Ekko stumbled out, his arms full of boxes.

“Hey, Claggor.” He exclaimed excitedly.

“Hey, Little Man!” Clag replied with enthusiasm. You pushed yourself off the wall, and Ekko noticed your presence - exclaiming your name happily.

“Hey Bug!” You greeted, walking over to the little boy, ruffling his short cropped hair, and lifting the top box from his arms.

“I was hoping you'd be working today.” Claggor mused, but Ekko quickly changed the subject.

“Did you guys go?” He asked, practically vibrating with excitement.

“Sure did.” Clag replied. “Hey, listen, how did you find that place?” You listened intently, interested in this piece of information yourself. The answer was quickly lost, though, when Claggor slipped his goggles off, allowing Ekko to spot his rapidly blackening eye.

“Whoa! Did you fight the enforcers?” He asked excitedly, earning a snort from you.

“I wish.” You laughed. “Though I think we'd be a little worse for wear if we did.”

“No, just some bums.”

“That's what they smelled like, at least.” You grinned at Ekko, causing him to cackle.

“Did Vi kick their asses?” He asked, grinning widely. You should have known that would be the next question. Ekko absolutely idolised Vi, and you couldn't blame him - your little sister was a badass.

“Yeah, we wouldn't be here otherwise-”

“Oh, she showed me a couple of moves to practice. Look!” Ekko practically threw the remaining box in his arms into Claggor's hands. With his own hands now free, he bounced on his feet, energetically throwing uncoordinated kicks and punches, finishing with a karate chop and a ‘yah!’ that had your dimples deepening with a giggle.

“Yeah. It's- it's coming along.” Claggor offered, and you punched him lightly in the shoulder.

“You're doing great, Bug. Keep at it, and I'm sure you'll be kicking asses with Vi in no time.” Ekko smiled wildly, no doubt imagining himself knocking down enforcers and thugs one by one.

“Hey, so how'd you find that place anyway?” Claggor tried again.

“Oh, this weirdo came into the shop.” This caught your attention. “Bought a whole bunch of stuff that Benzo only keeps there for display.” You looked at Claggor and quirked an eyebrow. “He paid in gold and didn't even haggle.” Suspicious. “I charged him double the price. Sucker.” You openly laughed at this. At least someone got something good out of the deal - you only ended up with a busted cheek and chin, and a headache.

“But, how did you know where he lived?” Clag asked.

“Uh, followed him. How else?” You helped Ekko carry the box to his bike.

“You shouldn't be going Topside alone, Ekko. What if something happened to you?” You admonished him, and he snorted.

“You're starting to sound like Vander.” Ekko snarked, and you lightly clipped him upside the head with an open palm. He laughed before his eyes widened, looking into the smog down the road, as two silhouettes approached.

“Shit.” You hissed as your eyes made out the unmistakable blue of the Enforcer's uniform. Your eyes darted wildly from the Enforcers to Claggor, to the door inside which Vander was.

“They'll be fine. Go” Ekko whispered frantically as he pushed you and Claggor in the opposite direction.

“Go back to the others.” You told Claggor quietly, but urgently. “I'll be back soon, I promise. I've gotta make sure they're okay.” He looked like he wanted to argue, but the look in your eyes stopped him in his tracks.

“Okay.” He whispered. “Be careful.”

“You know I will.” With the words, he was sprinting back to the pub as you slipped into the alleyway beside Benzo’s shop. 

You leapt onto the discarded crates, using the extra height to grip onto the thin piece of wood lining the window, and climb onto the awning of the building - stifling a snort after hearing Ekko's ‘suave’ greeting to the officers.

A few minutes after the Enforcers entered the store, you heard the tell-tale sound of the door opening once again. Shimmying yourself forward to check if it was Vander leaving, you inhaled sharply and quickly ducked down, seeing that it was one of the Enforcers, grumpily reapplying his gas mask. You sneered. You wanted to rip that mask right off his stupid face and force him to breathe in the same putrid air that you and your people had to breathe every day of your life. Pig.

“Psst.” You almost missed the soft sound, but looked up to see Ekko standing on the roof above you, eagerly gesturing you to follow.

Nimble as a mouse, you climbed the wall, using every tiny nook and crack to your advantage, till you reached the boy. “This way.” He whispered, signalling you to follow him. After a moment of scurrying along the side of the building, he pushed a loose plank aside and motioned for you to enter.

You whistled lowly as you entered the room above the shop. “What is this? You little Peeping Tom.” You poked him in the ribs as you looked at the large panes of glass hovering over the lower floor's ceiling.

Ekko shushed you, rushing over to a large, mismatched device that seemed to be an ‘Ekko-original’. A large looking-glass rested on the top of the metal, as he tinkered, it slowly adjusted correctly, so you could both see Vander and Benzo, sitting next to one of the Enforcers. A warbling, distorted sound emanated from a metal funnel near Ekko's head, and he gave it a smack, causing the sound to morph into words.

“Don't mind the kid.” A rough, yet feminine voice said calmly. “Doesn't know when to pipe down.”

“Some things are the same Topside and Bottom.” Vander replied casually. It shocked you that he was speaking so informally with the officer and not just sending her away. Your brows furrowed as you continued to listen.

“You know this crossed a line upstairs.” You felt your stomach sink. This was supposed to be an easy job - in and out - but the consequences were quickly mounting up, each one more dire than the last.

“Was anyone hurt?”

“A building was blown to bits. What do you think?” Sure, but if it had been a building blown to bits in the Undercity caused by Topsiders, no Piltie would so much as blink an eye. 

Vander sighed. “Those who did this will be dealt with.” You didn't question that for a moment. After this effort, you were pretty sure that you'd never be allowed Topside again, not that it would stop you.

“That workshop belonged to the Kirrammans.” You didn't know the name, but by the look on Vander's face, this was very bad news. “You know the kind of stuff they had in there? Makes this place look like a candy shop.” That explained the ‘sucker’ that had come into Benzo's and been swindled by Ekko. Rich Pilties with more gold than they know what to do with. “The council needs someone to make an example of.” 

This had your stomach plummeting - nausea swelling in your panic. This was serious. If the Council had ordered this. It wasn't going to be able to be swept under the rug.

“People need to feel safe.” You ground your teeth at the statement. Most of your people hadn't felt safe a day in their lives - yet that was just considered the status quo in their eyes. It was disgusting.

“Yeah, Topside people.” Vander scoffed, and you felt a surge of pride in him.

“We had a deal, Vander. You keep your people off my streets, and I stay out of your business.” You felt your blood run cold with betrayal. How could he be making dealings with the Enforcers? Knowing full well what they've done to the people of the Undercity. The thought of it made you sick, and you had to blink back tears of anger. 

“Give me a name, and we'll do things quiet.” She said, and you felt the urge to scream in rage. “No one will know you're involved.” A lump was quickly forming in your throat, and it took a lot of strain to swallow it down. You knew that he would never give any of you up, but the knowledge that you'd been kept in the dark hurt - almost physically.

“I can't do that.” Vander replied with a tone of resignation. Another pain in your chest. You had caused this. You had hurt him too.

“You don't seem to grasp how serious this is.” The woman said - you could tell she was growing frustrated. “If I don't put someone behind bars tonight, the next time I come down here, I'll have an army of enforcers with me. We both know how that will go.” Ekko looked up with fearful eyes that matched your own, and you wrapped an arm around his shoulders comfortingly. Your own heart was pounding as you tried to think of ways to fix the situation, but coming up blank.

“I'm sorry, Grayson, but I can't offer up my own people.” Vander told her resolutely.

The woman - Grayson - sighed. She remained silent for a moment, before producing a gilded pneumatic tube. “If you change your mind, this will reach me.” She handed it to him. “And only me.” And with that, she was walking away - leaving Vander to sigh in worry, and you to bite your nails with anxiety.

After waiting a few minutes to be sure that the Enforcers were indeed gone, you'd scaled back down the building and trekked home. The door to The Last Drop squeaked loudly as you entered, a dejected look adorning your face.

You only got a few steps in before a booming voice behind you had your heart leaping into your throat. “Pub’s closed for the night. Everyone out!” Vander. Wow, that man could be silent as a ghost when he wanted to be, which was incredibly surprising for a man of his stature.

A chorus of groans and protests rang out at the announcement, but, surprisingly respectfully, the patrons began to file out. Hiding amongst the incoming crowd, you began to sneak back to the basement, but were quickly stopped in your tracks by a large hand grabbing you by the bloodied scruff of the back of your shirt.

“Not you.” Your eyes screwed shut, and shoulders raised defensively. “Bar. Now.” Vander’s voice was calm but firm, and you knew not to argue. You let out a deep sigh and moved to the bar, sitting down heavily in the wooden stool. It was a few minutes before the pub was cleared, but soon, there was the comforting sound of silence - interrupted only by your own pounding heart.

Vander was silent as he locked the door and walked slowly behind the bar. You waited with baited breath for him to speak, and when it didn't come, you quickly broke the silence.

“Come on then, out with it.” You urged with a false air of confidence. “I know you want to yell at me.”

Vander paused, sighing, before fetching two glasses from under the bar. He remained quiet as he poured a generous helping of whiskey into each glass and slid one towards you. You caught the glass with ease and returned the sigh, tapping the bartop three times with two of your fingers.

Vander huffed with amusement. “How could I forget?” He asked with a small grin, reaching back under the bar to retrieve a small jar of honey and a spoon, before sliding it over to you. You unscrewed the lid to the jar and used the spoon to scoop out a small amount of the rare golden treat, drizzling it into your liquor.

“How much did you hear?” Vander asked, leaning against the bar, taking a sip of his drink. Oh, this isn't how you had expected this conversation to go.

“Enough.” You muttered in response, refusing to look him in the eye.

“Then you know how serious this situation is.” You nodded. You didn't think that your stomach could sink any lower, but apparently, it could. “I thought you were smarter than this.” Offence at his words hit you harder than you thought it would.

You scoffed into your glass as you took a sip, appreciating the burn on your tongue - the smoothness of the honey quickly bringing the burn to a smoulder as it ran down your throat. “Yeah, and I thought you were smarter than making deals with Enforcers. Guess we're even.”

The words made him flinch - his hands balling into fists. You could tell that he was fighting to keep himself composed.

“That deal is what keeps you and your siblings safe.” He countered roughly. “Every damn thing I do is to keep you lot safe, and it feels like you're all fighting me every step of the way.” Worrying your bottom lip with your teeth, you took another sip from the glass. You wanted to be angry with him, you really did, but it hurt you seeing him in pain. “Sometimes I need someone on my side. I thought you'd be the one to keep them grounded.” His voice raised, and you knew that his anger stemmed from his disappointment in you.

“Why, because I'm older? That's bullshit.” You were caught between immense guilt, and feeling the need to defend yourself. “Have you met Vi? You know once she's decided to do something that it's impossible to talk her out of it.”

“Did you even try?” He asked pointedly, sounding exhausted - a man beyond his years.

“Well, no-”

“And why’s that?” Vander cutting you off sent a flash of rage through you, tipping you over your boiling point.

“Because I can't lose them, okay?” You yelled at him, jumping at your own volume, and it was then that you realised that it wasn't Vander that you felt anger towards. It was yourself. “If I let them go out there without me and something happens, I'd- I'd never be able to forgive myself.” The words came out harsh, angry, and with a frown, but your dark eyes told a different story, welling with tears. “I can't lose any more people.” Your voice cracked, and fat tears began to run down your cheeks. “I just can't.”

“Oh.” Vander muttered quietly, his tone now rang with sympathy. Quickly, he moved around the long wooden surface to spin your stool around and stand in front of you. You refused to make eye contact with him; hands balled into fists as you angrily wiped away the tears with your forearm - embarrassed and frustrated with yourself.

Vander said your name quietly, tenderly, before gently cupping the back of your neck and guiding you in for a hug.

Your silent tears turned to sobs as your arms tightened around him - the weight of the day finally taking its toll on you.

“I know.” Vander whispered, his hands rubbing soothing circles into your back. “You've had to deal with so much death already, and it's not fair.” He didn't let go, instead he squeezed you tighter - and though you couldn't remember it well - the caring hug, and grounding scent of Vander brought you back to the day you'd first met him, fifteen years ago. “But I'm here. I'm not going anywhere. They're not going anywhere.” You could hear his voice wobble. “I'm sorry that I wasn't there for your mum - that I couldn't save her. But I promise you, we'll figure this out. I'll protect you all. You're not going to lose anyone else.”

By this point, your sobs had subsided, and you reluctantly removed your face from Vander's shirt, instead tilting up your head to look him in the eyes. His large palm came to rest on your cheek, thumb brushing against the dark purple bruise marring your cheekbone.

“You know, you look more and more like her every day.” His eyes were misty, but he gave you a soft smile that you returned. “She'd be proud of you, you know that?” His words caused another tear to slip down your cheek.

When he was sure that your tears had fully subsided, he spoke up again. “Let me take a look at that,” Vander said, nodding toward the back of your head as he stepped back behind the bar. He returned with a rag, a small bottle of alcohol. You'd almost asked him how he knew of the wound on the back of your scalp, before remembering that the upper back of your shirt was stained with dried blood.

“I'm fine.” You tried to convince him, before he spun your stool again and dropped himself in the stool behind you. You couldn't help but flinch when he parted the black hair at the back of your head - the matted hair caked in dried blood pulling at the wound.

Vander tsked at the sight, using his teeth to uncork the bottle of alcohol, before pouring a generous helping on the cloth. “Hold still.” Was the only warning he gave before gently pressing the rag to the wound. You hissed through your teeth at the sting, but let him continue without complaint.

“You're lucky. This won't need sutures.” He muttered after a while, the white rag now stained red and pink. 

“I told you, I'm fine.” You repeated yourself.

“You know, you don't have to be so tough all the time.” Vander mused.

“What can I say? I learn from the best.” You replied cheekily, earning a snort.

“Alright, tough guy, time for you to get some rest.” Oh, sleep sounded heavenly right now. You downed the last of your drink before standing up.

“Good night, Vander.” You paused, putting a hand on his shoulder. “And- thanks.”

Vander smiled, covering your hand with his own. “Any time. Have a good sleep.” You dropped your hand and began to head downstairs to the basement, pausing only when your name was called once more.

“This doesn't mean I'm not angry with you. You'll be punished, same as your brothers and sisters.” The words seemed harsh, but you could tell they'd been said with a grin. You kept walking, pretending you hadn't heard it.

After washing up, you'd crept into the room of sleeping kids and climbed into your own cot. Exhaustion burned your eyes and sank you into your hard mattress - though as much as you longed for it - sleep evaded you. Instead, you stared at the ceiling, biting your nails - anxiety bubbling over at the thought of what tomorrow would bring. The electric pulse hovering below your skin seemed to grow more incessant, feeling although it wanted to burst through. 

Today would have consequences, but whatever tomorrow brought, you'd face it head-on. You had to. You didn't have a choice - the curse of being born in the Undercity. As the faint hum of Zaun's undercity buzzed outside, a thought continued to play on your mind, keeping you awake. How much more could you lose before it broke you? Could Vander really keep his promise?

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Jesus Titty Fucking Christ! 9k words for chapter one?! Who the hell saw that one coming? Certainly not me! Sorry it took so long - it takes me FOREVER to write. 😭

Some things I want to say before the story goes on. I'm trying to stay away from using '(y/n)' because I feel like it can drag you out of the story sometimes. Also, this is a reader story, but as you've probably read, I do use some appearance descriptors. These are part of the story, but if it bothers you, please feel free to disregard them. 💛

Also, going on in the story, more specifically, post episode 3. Things are gonna get D A R K. There will be a lot of triggering topics covered - so please be aware. There will be trigger warnings at the beginning of the chapters, but I don't want anyone to get their hopes up in the first 3 chapters, and have to abandon it after that. This poor gurl is going to be SUFFERING.

Also, I will try to cross post this to AO3, and properly format these Tumblr posts asap. Please hold tight, and I'll update them when I get the chance. 🥰

Thank you so much for the love. I've never stuck with writing a fanfic like this before - and all your love has helped immensely. Nothing has ever stuck with me like Arcane either, so that also definitely helps, haha.

Again, sorry for my shit grammar. Ehehehe.

Love you all to bits. 💛

[worldimaginedreaming]

Imagine Becoming Warwick and your lover couldn't let you go

Starring: Silco x Reader x Vander x Viktor Summary: Once the heart of the family — a wife to Vander and mother to Vi, Jinx, Mylo, and Claggor — you were lost to a chemtech disaster that turned you into a monster: Warwick. But you weren’t gone. Not really. Now, it’s up to three very different men—Vander, Silco, and Viktor—to bring you back. For the children. For Zaun. For love. Word Count: ~1,200 Warnings: Emotional trauma, body transformation, family grief, tenderness, past violence, found family

You weren’t supposed to be this. Not the growling, pacing thing that snarled when it saw shadows. You were her the woman Vander married, the mom who kissed scraped knees and kept the kids fed, the one who somehow made Zaun feel a little less dark.

But that all got ripped away the day the chemtech accident happened.

Vander found you first or what was left of you. He didn’t scream. He didn’t run. He just knelt there, calling your name like it was the last thing on earth he could do.

And damn, did it break him. I mean, watching him hold you the monster that wasn’t quite a monster it tore at everyone who cared. You could see it in Viktor’s eyes, all sharp and busy, but losing it behind those glasses. And Silco… well, Silco was the hardest to read. His face didn’t crack, but the way he touched your arm, like you weren’t just a science experiment, said more than words ever could.

They all wanted you back "the real you " but it wasn’t like flipping a switch.

Viktor spent nights locked away, his hands shaking as he mixed chemicals and fiddled with his machines, chasing some miracle that could turn beast back into woman.

And Vander? Vander just never left your side. He talked to you like you were still there, telling you stories about the kids, about how much they missed their mom. Sometimes, he’d catch your eyes or what was left of them and you’d swear you saw a flicker.

Silco wasn’t the family type, but he showed up anyway, always quiet, always watchful. There were no sweet words from him, no promises. Just a stubborn, fierce presence that said: I’m not giving up on you.

One night, after everyone else had gone, you reached out. It was just a small movement a twitch of a finger, a hesitant touch on Vander’s hand. And it was like the whole room held its breath.

Vander squeezed your hand gently, eyes watering, voice thick with something he couldn’t quite say. “We’re not done. Not by a long shot.”

And you? You felt something too. A little spark maybe hope. Maybe love. Or maybe just the faintest echo of home.

You weren’t just a monster. Not yet.

A/N : this one is for u @coolgirl32 I hope u like it it's short but I think completed^^ I hope I respected ur asking!

Have a good reading u all !! Lot of love ! Big kiss ! 🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷

[katz-rambles]

Hi ! Could we have a childhood friends to lovers ViktorxReader please ? 🥰 I am CRAVING for new works

Yess!! I love this trope it's sooo cute!!

2k words, so I hope you enjoy, Anon!

(fluff, gn!reader, reader is a professor, making out, getting caught, Viktors a bit of a tease (when is he never though), I think this is it!)

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧꒰

When your family left the under-city, you knew everything would change. You were glad that it happened, it opened a whole bunch of doors for what you could become when you grew into an adult. But it also meant leaving your old life behind, one of the things you still think about to this day. Your heart aches when you think about the people you knew, you just hope that they ended up in a good place. When the shimmer trade spiked, you thought you'd never see any of the people you knew ever again, most of them probably either succumbed to the drug, or was killed during the many times the enforcers went down. You didn't like to think about it, but it's the harsh reality of Piltover.

Now you're walking the halls of one of the most esteemed universities inside of piltover, not as a student, but as a professor. You climbed your way to the top, and you know that your family is proud of you. They're the only reason this became possible, so when you got offered, you jumped at the chance. You're not complaining either, it's a well paying job with good benefits.

The day seemed to be going by incredibly slow, each hour felt like a year. You had a pile of tests on your desk that you had to mark, you've gotten through about half of them. But there's only so much marking someone can take before you feel like ripping your hair out.

So, instead of ripping your hair out, you decide to go on a coffee run and get some fresh air. You've been inside your office for so long, you're surprised you're still standing. One of the downsides to being a professor.

The walk to the Cafe down the road from the university isn't a long one. It's about three minutes, so long enough that you can get some well needed fresh air, but not long enough that you're regretting your decision.

When you reach the university, hit coffee in hand, you run into one of your former students, Jayce Talis. He gives you a friendly wave and comes up to you, “hey, professor. How's your day been?” He asks, awkwardly trying to make small talk and you have to cover your smile by pretending to clear your throat. “It's been well, thank you for asking. How's yours been?” You smile at him, not wanting to seem impolite by just ending the conversation there. He shrugs and sighs, you get the feeling.

Just when you're about to ask a question someone calls Jayce over, and when you both look over you're met with the sight of someone who you thought died long ago, but there he is, standing right in front of you, his cane in hand. You've heard of hextech, you're not in your office that much, and you've heard that Jayce didn't do it alone, but you never knew who his lab partner was. You also know that Heimerdinger has an assistant, but you were never able to catch said assistant's name. But you expected everything and anything, but him. You could have sworn he was dead.

“Viktor,” you manage to get out, although it's been years since you've last seen him, the memories you two made together as children stay fresh in your mind. Plus, he's incredibly attractive, everything from his overgrown hair to the way he leans on his cane, still managing to be taller than you, though not by much. It all had your mind swarming. His eyes rake over you before he looks back to your eyes, “Milý,” he breathes, a faint smile on his face as he continues, “you’re.. ehh.. hi.” He chuckles, standing a bit straighter on his cane. Before either of you can say anything else, Jayce buts in, “I hate to ruin a good moment, but the council wants to see us, Viktor.” Viktor nods and gives you one last nod before limping after Jayce.

Seeing someone who you hadn't seen in a good decade or so was not on your bucket list. You sit down in the chair behind your desk and lean back, letting your head just barely dangle off the back of the chair. You bring your hands up and rub your face, taking a deep breath and groaning. The sound is muffled by your hands. You sit back up again and sigh, you shouldn't feel this way. But you can't deny the way that you felt your heart race when you saw him again, he has such a boyish charm that just pulls you in, the same as is it did when you two were kids. You just chalk it up to a shock factor, you haven't seen him in years. You're just shocked, that's what you tell yourself.

The whole day all you can think about is him, you almost feel giddy, almost like a schoolgirl again. You take a breather, you've made a good amount of progress on the tests so you can afford a quick walk. Plus you have a class soon, and your classroom is on the other half of the university, and you've still got to set up your notes, you internally groan at the thought of giving another lecture. This is your fourth today.

When you finally reach the classroom, the professor that was using the room before you is just finishing cleaning up. You opened the door, only to be met with Viktor and Jayce, and then Heimerdinger soon after. You give a polite nod to Heimerdinger, and smile at Jayce and Viktor. You take your bag off and grab your notes, placing them on the table in front of you, before speaking up, “I thought your lecture ended a while ago, what are you still doing here?” You try and make your tone seem polite enough to cover up the, almost, rude question.

It's Jayce that speaks up first, “Heimerdinger thought it would be a good idea for us to sit in for one of your lectures, since the subject your an expert in is arcane.” You nod and chew the inside of your cheek. You're an amazing talker, and can easily give an hour long lecture, but with Viktor there, you feel anxious at the thought. Although it makes sense, hextech deals with arcane and what better person to listen to than someone who's an expert in it. You try and finish setting up without letting your mind wander too much, but your eyes keep on drifting from the papers in front of you to Viktor. When you look over at him, you find him already staring and he quickly looks away from you.

Now it's just a matter of waiting, you have ten minutes until your class starts so why not help Jayce and Viktor with their problems. You let them, mainly Jayce oddly enough, to ask you any questions they may have and you answer them to the best of your ability. Soon enough your class starts and you have to push away the temptation of staring at Viktor the whole time. Though, a few times you caught him, out of the corner of your eye, looking at you, and you embarrassingly stumbled over your words those times. You swear you saw the ghost of a smirk on his face at your reactions. Everything about him is so damn enticing, it's infuriating. How can one man be so wonderfully perfect, it doesn't make sense to you.

After your lecture, you're leaning over your desk, your mind swarming with thoughts, some not as innocent as you'd like.

When you're met with a hand on your back that has you letting out an embarrassingly loud yelp. Lo and behold, Viktor’s standing right behind you, with a smirk on his lips. “You seem awfully.. eh.. jumpy today, is everything alright?” He asks, moving his face closer to yours, and your heart is racing so fast you're convinced it'll jump out of your chest. His hand on your back moves lower until he rests it on the curve of your hip, gently squeezing it. “Yeah, I'm fine. Just tired.” You sigh, doing your best to not stutter or hesitate on your words. Viktor chuckles, the sound is something you'd pay to hear again, and moves his face closer to yours again. “Well, we can't have one of the best professors sleeping on the job. Now can we?” If it weren't for the teasing lift to his words you'd think he was actually concerned, but you both know that you're he's not actually. He almost immediately caught onto your lie.

You have to crane your neck at an, almost, uncomfortable angle to be able to see his face. You have to loft your face up for your neck to not be strained too much and you unintentionally bring your faces closer together. In the moment everything feels heightened, you're more aware of him. The hand he has on your hip feels heavier, you can feel the heat coming from his body from the proximity of you two, and you can smell him, a wonderful scent mixed with oil from the lab, the salty smell of the bay, and the knee-weakening scent of his cologne. Right now, everything about him feels intoxicating.

His hand lifts from your hip and to your back, carefully nudging you to turn around so you two are fully facing each other. He then places his hand on your chin to lift your face up, once again. He lets go and grabs your hand, placing it on his chest before speaking, in such a quiet tone you almost didn't hear him, “do you feel that?” Under your palm you can feel each beat of his heart, it's fast, probably just as fast as yours is. All you can muster is a nod. “That's what you're doing to me.” He sighs and brings his face closer to yours, the sound of his words mixed with the tone of his accent is something you're slowly becoming addicted to.

You bring your free hand up to hold his face, your finger traces his cheekbone and then you rest your palm on his face. “Good.” You smirk and his eyes flick down to your lips, and you take the hint, closing the gap between you two. He presses you against the desk and reciprocates the kiss, just as eager and desperate as you are. Each second that passes by feels like an eternity, and you hope it never ends. You've wrapped your arms around his neck and his free hand is resting on your hip. You're the one to pull away first with a quick gasp for air. Viktors face has a red flush to it and you swear you fell deeper in love right then and there.

“I've waited so long to do that, when you left for the top-side the only thing I regretted was not telling you how I felt.” He chuckles, stroking your hip, and you smile and lean in to kiss him again, this time it's him who closes the gap. His lips against yours feels right, you've kissed other people, men and women, but none have felt as right or as good as this. It's a bit messy, and rushed, but it feels right. You slide your hand back down to his chest, feeling his heart race under your palm is something that has you feeling giddy. He wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you impossibly closer to him. The moment, unfortunately, had to come to an end, the sound of the door opening, not only were you two caught but it reminded you that you two were inside a classroom, thankfully it wasn't a student who caught you, just an incredibly shocked Jayce. You look at Jayce and then back at Viktor, who looks just as shocked as Jayce, and you cover your mouth with your hand to stifle your giggles. “This is a place of learning, you two!” Jayce scoffs and throws his hands up, and Viktor groans, taking a few steps back.

“Good thing we're learning then, or we were learning.” Viktor teases, giving you a quick wink before going over to Jayce who looks even more shocked than before, he looks at you and then back at Viktor before groaning in defeat and chasing after Viktor. You're not sure what's going to happen between you and Viktor next, but you're sure that, whatever it is, it will be amazing.

[linddzz]

You’re so right about your cult Viktor posts because I just know there had to be more people obsessed with that man. Plus it never fails to make me laugh thinking of jealous and then smug Jayce cause he obtained the cookie and they didn’t :)

(referenced posts about Viktor's dark academia rizz making a Viktor Fan Club cult in the academy)

He was such a heartthrob for the nerds like this isn't even speculation. you can not peek in the Viktor tag without getting hit by an avalanche of ViktorxReader fics!! real life nerds are FERAL for Viktor and his pretty twink academia vibes. If Viktor wanted to he could PULL at the academy.

Also oh yeah Jayce would be so paranoid that everyone wants his super best buddy. Everyone wants his lab partner carnally and this bothers him. Don't ask him why he's bothered but he is bothered by the idea that like...what if...Viktor starts dating one of them?? And he spends less time with Jayce??? What if someone else makes Viktor laugh when Jayce is the best at making Viktor laugh??? What if....someone else starts calling Viktor by a nickname???? What if Viktor gives them a nickname???

(don't look at him like that Cait these are super reasonable things to be worried about!!!)

[hivemuthur]

requests

Update 06/03/25 - inbox open with no obligations

Ok, so. One day I'm here, simping over fictional characters all alone. And now all of a sudden, people are simping with me, so I guess this means my requests are SORT OF open. What does it mean?

Feel free to drop me things, and if I like them, I'll write them. I would love to indulge you all, but I only have this much time, so I need to kill some of my darlings.

I used to try to write everything, but as of now, I will take my liberties and be a little bit more picky in hopes to deliver a better quality work.

I tend to write f!reader in NSFW works and gn!reader in the rest, but if you would like something specific feel free to ask, I have no restrictions in this area.

fandom: Arcane, for now. I could try my hand at BG3 as well, though I think there are geniuses doing it way better than me already.

vibe: I have my best shot at emotional smut/erotica. I can also write fluff, humour and angst. I love AUs, but will write the stories in the classic setting as well.

pairings: Jayvik, ViktorxReader, ViktorxOC, AstarionxAny, I can also try Silco and JayvikxReader to some extent (fluff & comfort).

useful info: the Viktor I write will always have a disability. Sometimes I write less of it, sometimes emphasize it heavily, depending on the setting.

what I don't write: lack of consent, emphasized power imbalance (ProfessorXstudent, big age gaps), adult!virgin!Viktor (let's be real, no way this man saved himself until his 30s), sub!Viktor, and anything else that makes me feel uncomfortable or doesn't align with my own HCs. It's not you, it's me!

I see your pain of existence people, I feel it too.

Artist is kimmie.kawa on their side account on insta!

[a99jazzybean]

Request Rules

Requests are open!

I mostly write one-shots, but I will gladly try out blurbs and headcanon stuff as well!

Fandom: Arcane, Date Everything

Pairings: Jayvik, Meljay, Melvik, Meljayvik, Jayvikxreader, Meljayvikxreader, Jaycexreader, Viktorxreader, Melxreader, Date Everything x Reader

What I won't write: incest, pedophilia, underage, scat/piss/bloodplay, age regression, daddy/ddlg, petplay, medical kinks. If I've missed something and it's requested, I will decline.

Timeline: I have a full-time job and will be beginning my masters studies in August, so please have patience with requests. I will do them as fast as I can, but am quite the busy bee. If it has been a while you can shoot me another message asking about requests and I will let you know where I'm at.

[viktors-sternomastoid]

Hiiii. I am obsessed with your blog!!! Thank you for the amazing gifs! I saw you mentioned in one of your asks that you read fics. Do you read ViktorXreader? Do you have any recs?

Hello sweet anon~

You are very welcome, and I am glad you enjoy the gifs!

Unfortunately, I don't read xreader :/ I tend to read fics to run as far away from my existence as possible lol

Maybe my followers can help share some good fic recs in the replies?

[thephantomtheory]

✍️ Fic authors self rec!

When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to other writers you know. Let's spread some self-love! 💛

I CANT BELIEVE I DIDNT SEE THIS FOR THE LONGEST IM SORRY SMOOCHES TO YOU ❤️❤️

i dont even think i have five long fics i can put here, but i will shamelessly say i love this one,

The Statistical Probability of Letting You Know an Arcane oneshot ViktorxReader

i honestly think its some of my best work im really proud of it :)

tysm sailor!

[geebritt]

Birds of a Feather - Chapter 2

Chapter 1 [x] AO3 [x]

You awoke to a small finger tapping your nose and your name being cooed quietly. Eyes glued shut, and a trail of drool running from the corner of your mouth - it was obvious that you'd fallen into a deep slumber despite your anxiety.

“Wake up, sleepy head.” Powder's soft voice cut through your dreaming, and in return, you groaned, rolling over.

“Not yet, Pow-Pow. Let me sleep a bit longer.” You moaned, pulling your raggedy pillow over your head.

“Vander said that we have to go to the arcade today - lay low.” She said quietly - obviously not wanting to wake you, but doing as she'd been told.

You weren't having it, though. Under the pillow, your head was pounding, and you felt exhausted and unrested. The entire night, your dreams had been plagued by ominous blue glowing and strange floating symbols - only adding to the pain in your skull.

“You're doing it wrong.” Mylo's loud obnoxious voice entered the room. He shoved Powder out of the way and gripped your thin blanket, ripping it off the bed with force. “Wake up!” He yelled, slapping your upper back repeatedly like a drum.

“Fuck off, Mylo!” You yelled, curling into a ball. Calloused hands reefed the thin pillow off your head before running off, and you roared in annoyance, leaping out of the bed to chase after him. “I'm gonna fucking kill you!” You screamed, stumbling as you tripped over yourself in your half-asleep state. Immediately accepting defeat, you laid face down on the floor, groaning in pain.

“Get up.” You heard Vander's amused voice from the door and lifted your head just in time to see him throwing your rescued pillow back onto your bed.

“I don't wanna.” You muttered childishly while holding your head, causing Powder to let out a little giggle.

She knelt down to softly pat your hair. “C'mon, it'll be fun.” She urged. “I'm gonna fix the shooting range so we can totally crush Mylo.” She grinned, her eyes shining with determination.

“Wait.” Your head snapped up as realisation dawned on you. “No classes today?” Vander was always painfully fastidious about your education. Throughout your childhood, he'd hired a number of tutors, each one tasked with educating you on a variety of subjects. He tried tirelessly to ensure that you and your siblings had a brighter future than himself. An unexpected day off of learning was rare, and something to be cherished.

“Not today.” He confirmed. “We have more important things to deal with.”

You pulled yourself up into a sitting position and grinned at Powder. “Wow, maybe we should blow up buildings in Piltover more often.” She giggled but quickly covered her mouth and looked nervously at Vander.

“That's not funny.” He told you pointedly, his low brows punctuating his displeasure at your statement. He obviously didn't share your sense of humour on the subject.

“Come on, it was a little bit funny.” You countered with a cheeky grin.

Shaking his head, he turned out the door. “Ten minutes, and I want you up and ready to go. And make sure you wear a hood.”

Fifteen minutes later, you were hastily pulling on your hooded cloak. You ignored Mylo's yells for you to hurry up. You would happily make him wait all day before you would rush to meet his schedule. After pulling your boots on, you lifted your old mattress to find your Balisong safely stashed between the fabric and the old wooden slats. You hadn't taken it with you yesterday - a stupid decision, you decided - assuming that you wouldn't need it on such a straightforward mission. You wouldn't be making that mistake today, you mused, tucking it into the pocket of your baggy pants.

Your name was yelled again, this time by Vander.

“I'm coming!” You yelled back, still grumpy from your lack of sleep. Balled fists scrubbed tiredly at your eyes as you approached the group waiting for you by the door.

“All right.” Vander started as you came to a halt beside Vi. “You're to go to the Arcade, and stay there until I come to get you. You don't leave for any reason. You see any Enforcers, you hide.” You all nodded along as he talked. “Understood?” He asked, and with the look he was giving you all, there was only room for one answer.

You sighed as you peeled your cloak off, throwing it onto the lone rickety wooden chair on the far side of the arcade. As predicted, Vi went straight for the boxing machine to attempt a new high score. Powder climbed over the table of the shooting range and immediately began to tinker with the wiring in an attempt to reanimate the lifeless targets.

Sitting beside the decaying wooden chair was an equally worn table. Its surface marred with age and small knife wounds caused by your own hand. Resting on top was a rolled up piece of parchment. You approached the table, picked up the scroll, and carefully unravelled it, blowing the thin layer of dust away. This was a souvenir that you'd picked up Topside.

‘JOIN THE ENFORCERS TODAY AND HELP KEEP PILTOVER SAFE’ The yellowing poster read obnoxiously. In-between the top and bottom text stood a detailed image of the one thing you hated most - an Enforcer. The picture depicted the officer standing proudly, their weapon held carefully with both hands as the soulless eyes of their mask stared at you from the centre of the parchment. The blues and golds of the uniform had been lovely printed onto the paper - making it all the more satisfying to tear off the wall that it had been displayed on. One less new Enforcer recruit is a win any day of the week.

You picked up a dart from the table and took the poster to the wall next to the shooting range. Dusting away the stripping paint from the wall, you held the parchment against the surface and pinned it in pace with the dart tip.

Hearing Vi grunting as she punched the machine with deadly accuracy, you looked over. “Don't exhaust yourself too early, Vi. We're probably gonna be here a while.” She huffed out a laugh but continued with her violent jabs.

“Remind me why we bother with this dump?” Mylo drawled, and you cringed as he picked his nose with his pinky finger before flicking the resulting booger away.

“Do you listen at all, or are those massive ears just for decoration?” You drawled back, returning to the table and picking up two more darts. He rolled his eyes at you but didn't offer an answer.

“Vander said to lay low.” Vi paused her punching, rolling her shoulder to relax the muscle. “Enforcers never come down here, so this is as good a place as any.”

Claggor spoke up from his spot, leaning against the wall. “Oh, what's the matter, Mylo? You worried Powder's gonna beat you again?” You snickered as Mylo sneered at him.

Taking a wide stance, you brought the dart up in front of your face to take aim. A flurry of calculations ran through your head as you strategized the trajectory of your throw. The angle, velocity, wrist movement, and arc adjustment estimations flew through your mind at such speed that your eyes almost tried to follow the invisible numbers. A breath left your lungs slowly as you let loose the dart, watching as it flew directly into the centre of one of the Enforcer's masked eyes. A smirk grew on your face.

“Hey, if she didn't keep fixing these things, I wouldn't keep missing.” Mylo exclaimed, defending himself. As if on cue, Powder popped up from behind the table, two power tubes held in each hand. She smirked darkly at Mylo as she slotted them together, causing the lights to dim and the glowing targets to instantly come to life.

You watched with squinted eyes as Mylo shot the rubber rounds, missing every target. Powder already looked elated.

“You guys know I wouldn't take you on a job you couldn't handle, right?” You heard Vi say softly from across the room.

“Are you kidding? That was the best job we've ever done.” Mylo replied excitedly. You kept your mouth shut, unwilling to force onto them the stress and anxiety that both you and Vander had been feeling since the meeting with the Enforcers the night before - the consequences of yesterday's job. Instead, you stayed silent, adjusted your stance, took aim, and let loose another dart - which landed directly in the second eye of the Enforcer's mask.

“Maybe just - don't take Powder next time.” He added, looking down at the young girl. You glared at him, half tempted to throw a dart into the back of his head. Powder glared dangerously before taking aim with her freshly-loaded gun and raining rubber bullets into the targets, hitting each with perfect accuracy. You smiled, proud of her, as she pulled a face of defiance at Mylo.

“Way to go, Pow.” Smiling at her, you held out your fist for a bump as she walked past you on her way to the electric game machine. 

“There you go again, Mylo - underestimating Powder.” He turned to you with a look of disbelief, but you pressed on. “If those were real thugs and a real gun, you'd be on the ground, and Powder would be walking away without a scratch.” You smirked, rubbing salt into the wound. “You could learn a thing or two from her.” 

Mylo looked disgusted, scoffing loudly in outrage. “Me? Learn something from her? You're kidding, right?”

You returned to your place of aim and retrieved the Balisong from your pocket. “Well, she's the one who just fixed the range and set a new high score. And you-” You cut yourself off, throwing the knife with perfect accuracy, grinning as it buried into the wood between the Enforcer's eyes. “-are the one standing there with that dumb look on your face.”

Mylo opened his mouth, ready to retort, when Vi spoke up from across the room. “Come on, guys. Chill out. Seriously, can't you go five minutes without being at each other's throats?” You rolled your eyes, taking a step towards the poster.

“Hey, guys? You should see this-” Powder started, but was quickly cut off by the sound of glass shattering and a limp body flying through the arcade’s window. You all stood frozen in shock, returning the stare of the group of Enforcer’s standing on the other side of the broken window.

“Search them.” A menacing voice said from the group, and you glanced at your siblings with worry. You stood frozen in place as the group of Enforcers began to file in through the newly created entrance, filling the room uncomfortably. Stepping towards the old wooden chair, a pair of dark eyes met your own. An Enforcer wearing only a partial mask stepped heavily into the room - the confidence he was exuding was one of power, and you quickly realised that he was a Superior Officer. This was a dangerous situation.

You exhaled a small breath and kept your chin up defiantly as he came to stop in front of you. His eyes, previously trained on yours, trailed behind you, where the desecrated poster hung lifelessly on the wall - your sharp blade pierced through the imaginary officer's head. 

Your gaze followed his to the poster, then quickly returned to his face where his brow had quirked. “How’d that get there?” You feigned innocence, but a tiny smirk couldn't help but crawl onto your lips. His eyes burned with a fire of hatred that you returned eagerly - itching to take your knife and bury it into his neck.

Your eyes twitched to the side and, for a moment, met Vi’s panicked expression. Something was wrong. You could tell from your sibling's anxious demeanour that this was going to end badly. Preparing yourself, as you glared into the eyes of your antagonizer, you leaned against the wooden chair, tightly wrapping your hand around the slats of the back.

“Go ahead and search us, idiots. We've got nothing.” Mylo announced cockily. The man standing before you turned to look at Mylo with disdain, his lip curling in disgust. You took the opportunity to look over to your sisters, who seemed to be having a silent conversation. Your eyes flicked between Vi and Powder, trying to gauge the situation. Fear and anxiety were evident in Powder's watery blue eyes, and Vi's were quickly darting around the room, searching for an exit route. Suddenly, her gaze met yours, and you looked at her questioningly. Almost discernibly, she tilted her head to the shooting range, where you knew a back-door resided. Your head nodded back to her once, almost as subtly, and as quickly as your next breath, a chain-reaction was set in motion.

Vi nodded to Claggor, who quickly pulled the lever behind him. Immediately, everyone was plunged into darkness, leaving no light other than the soft glow from the neon paint that had been used to graffiti the room. Thankfully for you, your group knew this building like the back of your hand. 

Grasping the back of the chair, you ripped it up in one swift motion, slamming it into the Enforcer in front of you. The brittle wood splintered against his armoured uniform - not solid enough to hurt him - but enough to distract him. Taking advantage of the diversion, you were able to dart back to the wall, wrench your knife free, and vault over the table into the shooting range. Ducking and weaving through the illuminated wood and metal, you skidded to a halt behind one target. Gasping for air, your eyes scanned the darkness, desperately searching for a glimpse of your siblings. A broken gasp that you recognised as Mylo registered in your ears, and without hesitation, you were throwing yourself in the direction of the sound. It took you only a moment to find your brother. An Enforcer had a fist clenched tightly in the front of his grubby shirt, and though Mylo was trying his best to look fearless, you could tell that he was trembling. 

You let out a sharp cry of fury as you leapt forward and swiftly brought your knife down four times in quick rapid, precise strikes; cutting through the Enforcer's leather gloves like warm butter. The officer screamed out in agony, releasing Mylo's shirt as blood splattered across your face. Ignoring the sharp, metallic taste of it in your mouth, you grabbed your brother's shirt and dragged him towards the exit door, which your other three siblings were currently bursting through. You collectively flood through the small doorway, slamming the door shut behind you. 

“This way!” You call to your siblings, running as fast as your legs would take you down the dank alleyway. The sound of the Enforcers trailing you had your legs pumping harder than ever before, only to skid to a halt when you saw that the path forward was blocked by more officers. You spun quickly on your heels to retreat, but immediately stopped when you saw the original group of Enforcers running towards you.

A shrill whistle sounded suddenly from above where your group was frozen, and looking up, you saw with relief that it was Ekko.

“Over here!” He called in a panicked tone as he dropped a ladder down for you to climb. The heavy metal clanged heavily to the ground next to you, and you wasted no time in scrambling up the ladder, making sure that your siblings were following you. Mylo was on your heels, quickly followed by Claggor and Vi. You safely reached the top to Ekko. However, your heart leapt into your throat as Powder's legs were grabbed by one of the officers. She managed to shake them off enough to reach Vi's hand already extended to pull her up.

“Guys!” You exclaimed in panic, staring down the barrel of the gun pointed towards Powder. Racing forward, you helped Vi pull her to safety by grabbing a handful of her shirt and yanking her up. The wind was knocked from your lungs with an ‘oof,’ as you fell backwards onto the cold, hard surface of the balcony, Powder falling heavily onto your stomach. The sound of a boot connecting with metal, and the ladder clattering to the ground brought immediate relief to your anxiety. You were safe - for now.

“We need to go.” You wheezed, stating the obvious.

Your group stealthily made your way through the Lanes, hopping along balconies and roofs; constantly checking the crowded streets to be sure that you weren't being followed. Peppered throughout the crowds were small groups of Enforcers harassing Zaunites - luckily, none of them seemed to be the group chasing you. It had been a very long time since you'd seen this level of Enforcer presence in the Undercity, and it made you uneasy. This was your fault.

After half an hour of traversing along above the streets of the Undercity, relief flooded through your veins at the sight of The Last Drop. Eyeing the ground, you sighed with agitation, seeing multiple pairs of officers patrolling the paths to the pub. Turning to face your siblings, you prepared yourself to put on your ‘Big Sister Pants’ once again.

“Quickly, down here.” You told them quietly, as you led them off the derelict roof and onto the balcony on the side of the building, far out of potential sight of the Enforcers. “Alright. I need you all to stay here. I'm going to go down and get Vander.” You stated, leaving no room for arguments - or so you thought.

“I'm coming with you.” Vi said resolutely, getting ready to leave with you.

“No, Vi.” She froze, looking at you with a look of confusion. “You need to stay here and look after the others.”

A deep frown furrowed her brows. “That's bullshit. Mylo or Claggor can take care of them.” You rubbed your temples, your head beginning to pound again. “You can't go alone. I'm coming with yo-”

“No, Vi!” You exclaimed, cutting her off. Her hurt expression pained you. Quickly lowering your voice again, you continued. “If you were ever going to listen to me - just once - listen to me now. Stay with the others. I'll get Vander and be back before you know it.” She didn't reply, instead glaring slightly and huffing a ‘whatever’ before turning back to the rest of the group. “Stay here. Don't leave for any reason. The Enforcers won't find you here, and I'll be back when the coast is clear.” Your voice was commanding, and everyone - bar Vi - nodded.

You pulled your hood up to obscure your face as you scaled the side of the dilapidated building back up to the roof. Perched on the railing, you peered down to the streets, eagle-eyed, and waited for your opportunity to descend. After a few minutes, you spied your moment to move when there was a lull in the number of patrolling officers. As nimble as humanly possible, you carefully descended the building, and the moment that your feet touched solid ground, you moved to blend in with the pedestrian traffic. Keeping your head down, looking up only in glances to ensure that you were headed in the right direction, you made your way to your home.

“Hey, you! Stop right there.” Your stomach clenched in fear as you heard an authoritarian voice, muffled by a metal mask, speak. You paused for a moment, breath held in anticipation, ready to run if need be. “I said stop!” The voice yelled, an armour clad shoulder knocking you out of the way roughly as an Enforcer duo ran down a street youth who had started to run. You let out the breath you had been holding with relief, and continued to walk inconspicuously towards the pub.

The pub door squeaked loudly, announcing your entry. Vander looked up from the bar, eyebrows furrowing in immediate confusion and concern at seeing you enter alone.

“Vander, we have a problem.” You announced, running towards him. The anxiety racking your body from the day's events suddenly coming to a boil when you saw the man who made you feel safe. Your breathing was shallow, limbs trembling, and eyes beginning to well with unsheathed years.

“Whoa, hey. What happened?” Vander's arms wrapped around you protectively, and as his scent entered your nose, you felt the threatening panic attack begin to fade.

“Enforcers.” You felt him stiffen at the single word. “The kids are alright. They're hiding. I told them I'd come back for them when it's safe. But-” You swallowed down a sob. “The Lanes, they're crawling with them.” He pulled you away from his chest to look into your eyes, concern shining in his own when he took note of the blood spatter painting your face and shirt. You anticipated the question before he asked it. “It's not mine. The Enforcers cornered us. They- they had Mylo. I didn't know what else to do.” 

“Are they still alive?” He asked softly.

“Yeah. It was just their hand. But-” Your breath became shallow once again. “I'm sorry. I know this is just going to make things worse.”

He shushed you. “It's okay. You did what you needed to protect your brother. I'm proud of you.” He reassured you, bringing your head to his chest once again. “We'll fix this.”

Your arms wrapped tightly around Vander, and for just a moment, you allowed yourself to feel safe and protected - knowing that it was only a matter of time before the inevitable anxiety returned. 

A shrill whistle rang in your ears, pulling you from your brief reprieve. You looked up to see Vander gesturing towards a nearby table of patrons. You'd seen the rough group before - many times, actually. They were always ready and raring to jump into a good bar fight - more than one of said fights caused by you incidentally. The sound of the whistle had their rambunctious conversation coming to a halt mid-sentence.

“Oi.” Vander called, voice as commanding as ever. “We're gonna need a hand.”

The obvious leader of the group - a heavily muscled man with a large, knotted scar across his face - leaned back heavily in his chair, his scarred eyebrow raising inquisitively.

“What's the trouble, Vander?” His rough voice questioned.

“Enforcers. They’ve flooded the Lanes.” Vander replied, keeping his voice even. “The kids are caught in the middle. Hiding out. I need help drawing the heat off them so they can get home safely.” His arm stayed protectively around your shoulder, and you silently prayed to whoever was listening that they would agree.

The man exchanged a look with his group before leaning forward, resting his forearms on the table. “You're asking us to go toe-to-toe with Enforcers?” He questioned gruffly, looking very much unamused.

Vander met his gaze without so much as a flinch. "I'm asking you to make some noise. Split them up, lead them on a chase. You don't need to fight - just distract them long enough to give us a window to get the kids out.”

A dark-skinned woman on the other side of the table scoffed loudly, shaking her loc'd hair. “And if they catch us?” She asked, throwing her hands up. “What then?”

“They won't.” Vander replied reassuringly. “You lot know these streets better than any of them ever could.” He paused. “You wouldn't just be doing this for me. You'd be doing this for the kids.” A swallow. “For the Lanes.”

You could feel the heavy weight of the silence that filled the room as the group seemed to consider Vander's words and weigh their options. They began to mutter quietly to each other before stopping abruptly.

“Alright.” The burly man announced, his chair screeched against the floor as he stood, cracking his neck loudly. “For the Lanes.” He agreed resolutely. His companions nodded, rising from their seats before gathering their items and taking one last gulp of their ale.

Vander turned his attention back to you, taking you by both your shoulders. “We'll handle the Enforcers. You get the kids and bring them straight home. You still have your knife with you?” You nodded. “Good. In case things go sideways, you do what you need to keep yourself safe. Be careful.” He finished his words with a hug before moving over to join the group.

“Thanks.” You said to them. “Really. I owe you.” 

The scarred man sniffed in response, pausing with his hand on the door-knob, turning to look back at you. “A free pint next time, and we're square.” It was said with a smirk, showing off his mismatched teeth. 

You gave a tight grin back. “Deal.”

Vander looked back to you before stepping out. “Wait two minutes, then go. Remember what I said - straight home.” You nodded, crossing the floor to give him one last hug before he slipped out the door.

Fifteen minutes later, you were scaling back up the building, sheltering your siblings. Vander and the group had executed their roles perfectly, allowing you to safely make your way back to the kids’ hiding spot. Crawling across the metal carefully, you could hear their hushed voices deep in conversation. Pausing at the apex of the roof, you listened.

“I still can't believe she put you in your place like that.” You could hear the baiting in Mylo's tone. “Never thought I'd see the day.” 

“Shut up, Mylo.” Vi sneered in return. “She's not wrong - someone has to babysit you.” You stifled a laugh, imagining Mylo's look of indignation. “At least I didn't need to be rescued back there.”

“Oh, so now you think you're the babysitter?” Mylo quipped. “Guess that makes sense, though. You're good at bossing us around.” 

“You want me to shut you up permanently?” Vi growled, and you could practically hear her clenching her fists. You quickly decided that you should step in before an all-out brawl started between the two of them.

“Never fear, your hero is here!” You announced with an over-exaggerated booming voice, climbing over the peak of the roof to slide down the descending slick metal. Upon hearing your voice, Powder and Ekko’s eyes lit up, and they cheered as enthusiastically as they could with their hushed tones. Sliding off the side of the roof, you landed heavily on the balcony, wobbling slightly before regaining your balance.

Powder dove onto you immediately, wrapping her arms tightly around your waist. “I knew you'd be okay. Mylo tried to bet me five coins that the Enforcers had caught you and taken you away to Stillwater.” She squeaked, glaring at Mylo. 

Your hands gently ran through her soft blue hair as you, too, shot him a dirty look. “Gee, thanks, Mylo. I'll remember that before saving your ass next time.” He replied with a weak nervous laugh. “The coast is clear, but we need to head home quickly. I don't know how much time we've got.” You told the group with urgency. “Let's go.” 

As the rest of the group began to climb back up to the roof, you looked to Vi, who was still standing on the balcony next to you, watching carefully as her siblings scaled the wall. “I'm sorry about earlier.” You told her earnestly, laying a hand on her shoulder.

“It's fine.” She replied coolly. “You did what you had to do.” Shrugging off your hand, she began to follow the others in their ascent. Your mouth hardened into a thin line. Vi always needed to feel in control. As the naturally appointed leader of the group, she always took it upon herself to make sure her family was safe. She would need time to get over this; but she would get over it. The knowledge didn't make it hurt you any less, though.

Just as you'd anticipated, the incident that occurred that morning had resulted in even more consequences. Word had quickly spread around the Lanes about what had happened, only serving to stir more unrest with the Zaunites. The rage, pain, and hopelessness in your people was beginning to come to a boil - and you could only hope that yesterday's event wasn't going to be the catalyst for another failed uprising. You couldn't take that - not again.

“We should hit them back. We've got the numbers to beat them!” Sevika - a loyal patron of The Last Drop - declared angrily. You stood with your siblings, watching the riled crowd with anxiety. 

After spending the rest of the day hiding out in the basement, the raucous sound of an angry crowd roused you from the safety of the pub's lower room. The night air had brought in the seething Zaunites, ready to cross the bridge and take a better future for themselves by force - regardless of the cost. 

The angered mob was led by none other than Sevika herself. A strong, heady woman that you'd known since you were a child, and for whom you held a great wealth of respect. However, the way she was currently speaking to Vander had you glaring venomously in her direction. Tensions were high. You felt like you could cut the atmosphere of the room with your knife.

“Yeah. Let's teach them what it means to mess with us!” A man exclaimed irately, and the crowd cheered in agreement.

Six years ago, you would have been right there with them, cheering on a revolution - but the cost was too high. You would never be able to forget that night on the bridge. The sight of Felicia and Connol's lifeless bodies. The sounds of Vi and Powder’s sobs and screams as they struggled to understand and process their loss. The smell of burning flesh and chemical laced smoke. The feeling of the hot tears running down your own cheeks and the hollow, painful hole in your chest, as you agonisingly grieved your parental figures.

The nightmares that plagued you for years afterwards, of the rest of your loved ones also lying there, dead, kept you standing with Vander's orders: no uprising. The risk of loss was too great.

Vander stood unyielding. Striking a match against the wood of the bar and using the small flame to light his pipe - taking a long drag before exhaling. “You sure that's what you want?” He asked firmly. “We crossed that bridge once before, and we all know how that ended.” Your lips pressed into a thin line as you shook away the vision of Felicia's lifeless eyes staring into the void. Everyone in your family had lost something that day.

“You're just protecting your kids.” A man spat, and you barely recognised him as the body that had been thrown through the arcade window that morning.

Vander and Benzo both turned to glance in your direction before Vander spoke again. “I'm protecting our people. I'd do the same for any one of you.” And he was right. There was a reason he was known as the Hound of the Underground. He'd led Zaunites through Hell and back. If it weren't for Vander - countless more lives would have been lost - and for what? Topsiders would sooner snuff out the life of every last Zaunite before they let them take sovereignty by force. “We look out for each other. It's the way it's always been.” His voice softened before he added, “This will blow over. We just need to stand together.”

The room was silent before Sevika spoke up once more. “The Vander I knew, the one who built the underground, wouldn't be afraid to fight.” You glared at her with such hostility that you were surprised that she didn't bend under the weight of it. The anxiety in your gut was quickly being engulfed by a raging fire of anger. Your hand reached into your deep pocket, toying with the knife that sat folded safely in its recesses.

Vander took a long drag from his pipe as he slowly stepped up to Sevika challengingly. “Do I look afraid?” He growled menacingly, and if you didn't know him as your father, you'd be scared.

“No.” She responded, matching his intensity. “You look weak.”

The cord of fury inside of you snapped, and you stepped forward, pulling the Balisong from your pocket and flicking it open with a sharp, metallic click. “Sevika.” You spat her name like venom, ignoring your siblings hushed hisses of your name. “I think it's time that you and your lackeys get the fuck out of here.” Her eyes shifted lazily from Vander's to yours, and the smirk that grew on her lips infuriated you, but you mirrored it as you ground your teeth. You could see Vander looking at you warningly from the corner of his eye, but you ignored that too.

“Or what?” She drawled with amusement, as if your defiance of her was the punchline to a joke. “You gonna stick me with that little toothpick?” The sound of her group laughing mockingly had you biting the inside of your cheek until you could taste blood.

“You know as well as I do that I know exactly how to use this.” Your smirk became sharper, more challenging, but the tone of your voice remained cool. “If you don't move along, then yeah, maybe I'll show you just what this toothpick can do.” The laughter in the room faded off quickly, and you felt a sense of pride. You were grateful to Vander that he hadn't stepped in. He had turned his head to watch your interaction cautiously, his own jaw clenched tightly. He knew your burning hunger to stand up and show Zaun - show the world - that you were more than just some Undercity kid. You were someone to be respected, just as he was. 

A more cautious man would have jumped in already - stopped you speaking up before it escalated to this point. He could easily order you to stand down, and you would reluctantly obey, but he didn't. Vander knew better - he knew you. His teeth ground together, and the veins in his neck bulged as his protective instincts battled with his trust in you; all the while his eyes subtly darted between you and Sevika. If he stepped in now, he'd be undermining you - robbing you of the ground that you'd just fought to claim. He wouldn't do that to you. So instead, he stayed quiet and gave you the opportunity to prove yourself.

“You've got guts, kid.” Sevika huffed a laugh. “I'll give you that. But guts won't stop a blade in your back.” Her drawled threat had one of her gang barking a laugh.

“Oh, I know that.” You replied with faux-innocence, head tilting as if considering her words. “And I'm certainly under no delusions that I would survive if you decided to kill me.” You paused, taking a breath and steadying your voice. 

“But, what I do know is that I would take at least one or two of your friends down with me.” You tapped the knife below your right eye twice with a smug smirk before flicking it out to gesture lazily at the Zaunites standing behind her. “So since you're so gung-ho about rushing into a war that will probably kill them anyway…” A pause, and your eyes locked with hers again. “I'll let you pick which ones will be taking a dirt nap with me.” The dead silence in the room was palpable. Sevika's stormy, grey eyes glared at you menacingly for longer than you expected, and you almost began to doubt yourself before she snorted a laugh. 

“I guess we'll be on our way then. I'm not in the business of killing little girls.” She let out a shrill whistle, signalling to her gang that it was time to leave.

“Shame, I was all ready to play.” You bit back with a glare, enraged at her condescending tone. The irate group turned and slowly began to retreat from the pub, Sevika bringing up the rear. But just before stepping out, she stopped in the doorway, barely turning her head as she addressed Vander. 

“At least your kid has some fire.” She mused, her tone full of condescension. “You could learn something from her.” The fury bubbled again at the disrespect Sevika showed to him, especially in front of his pub full of loyal patrons. The index of calculations barely had time to rush through your head before the knife was flying from your hand in a blur of silver, and burying into the wood of the door frame, not two inches from her head. Sevika didn't flinch - didn't so much as twitch. Instead, she simply huffed another laugh before stepping out onto the streets - the door squeaking shut behind her.

The pub remained deadly silent for a few more moments before Vander broke it with his booming voice. “Alright, show’s over. Back to your drinks.” You didn't move, staring at the door, face flush with anger. Vander moved to the doorframe, gently tugging the blade from the porous wood before returning to you. Gently taking your hand, he placed the Balisong into your palm and curled your fingers around it using his own - his large palm dwarfing yours in size. “Try not to give me any more grey hairs, yeah?” He muttered with a small smile, gently wrapping his arm around your neck to bring you in for a hug. The moment that your head hit his chest, you felt the rage drain from your system, leaving exhaustion in its wake. “Come on. I'll make you a drink.” At this, you perked up. “We're not making a habit of this, though. One drink, then back to the basement.” Your eyes drifted the stairs leading to the basement, noticing that your siblings were no longer there.

You couldn't help but feel self-conscious as Vander led you to the stool next to Benzo. The gentle man must have noticed the look on your face, because the moment you sat down he was clapping a hand against your back and laughing heartily.

“The apple doesn't fall far from the tree, eh, Vander?” He said with mirth, roughly scratching at his unruly mutton-chops. “Felt like I was watching a young you.” He told Vander, who had returned to the other side of the bar. It was obvious that Benzo was trying to lighten the mood, and you forced a grin, but the weight of the ever-escalating situation hung heavy between the three of you.

Vander scoffed. “Benzo, don't insult the poor girl.” This earned a true snort of laughter from you, and Vander shot you a grin - the pride in his eyes warmed your heart.

One drink soon turned into three, and it was near midnight when you were stumbling down the stairs to the basement, ready to face-plant into your dingy mattress. The last two days had absolutely sapped you of any energy reserves that you possessed, and all you wanted was to sleep off the buzzing under your skin. 

Creeping into the basement, you saw the ragtag group of kids asleep in various states of disarray. Powder was on the floor, flopped on top of Ekko, who was snoring softly. Their game of dominos lay forgotten beside them. Mylo, on the other hand, was snoring loudly - head tipped over the back of the shabby couch, a line of drool running from the corner of his mouth. Claggor's feet rested in his lap as the larger boy laid across the couch, his face as peaceful as his sleeping breath. Vi sat in her armchair, sleeping lightly. You could tell that she was fighting the sleep by the deep set frown present on her brows and her arms crossed loosely against her body. The sight made you smile softly. The alcohol swimming through your veins only amplifyed the bitter-sweet sentimental feeling in your chest. Quiet as a mouse, you crossed the room, gently raising a hand to brush the hair from Vi's eyes and tuck it behind her ear. Seeing her like this really drove home to you that she really was just a child - a child being raised in the slums. Vi - all the kids - should be living a carefree life under the sun, where the air wasn't toxic to breathe and they didn't have to watch their backs at every turn. You only hoped that you could find a way to give that to them without putting them in harm's way. The thought stayed with you as you sprawled out on the free couch and slowly drifted to sleep.

By late afternoon the next day, you were going stir crazy. Vander had deemed it too dangerous for your group to leave the basement after yesterday's incident - at least while the Lanes were still filled with Enforcers. He assured you that it was just until things blew over and Topside calmed down, but that didn't make it easier. You lounged across the musty couch tossing a ball up and down - the same activity that you'd been doing for the last hour.

“Ugh, I can't stand this anymore.” You groaned after hearing Mylo begin to bait Vi into an argument. Standing up, you stomped to the closed door. “I'll talk to Vander, see if we can find somewhere else to-” Your words cut off and your hand froze on the door handle as you heard a peculiar noise, causing your stomach to drop. The familiar whir and tap-tap-tapping sound of Powder's alarm monkey falling from the ceiling and crashing to the floor had the room freezing, then almost instantaneously, erupting into chaos.

“Shit.” You hissed as everyone leapt to their feet. “Everybody hide. Now!”

You watched with bated breath as Ekko climbed onto the metal piping, melding into the shadows. After waiting for a moment, ensuring that he was fully hidden, you sent him a thumbs up - confirmation that he wouldn't be seen. Your eyes then moved to the hole in the wooden ceiling where the rest of your siblings were crammed. It was only once you were sure that not one of them were visible, that you nodded in satisfaction before ascending the wall to join them. 

Squeezing in beside Vi, you looked around in panic, only seeing Mylo and Claggor. “Where's Powder?” You hissed, eyes struggling to adjust to the sudden darkness.

“I'm over here.” Powder squeaked from the far side of the gaping hole. “I'll climb across.”

“No, wait-” You whispered desperately, but it was too late. The divide was too large, and as she leaned forward to reach toward the other side, she slipped, barely managing to catch herself on the end of a rusty pipe that was hanging from above. Relying on all of her upper-body strength to hold herself up, she hung across the hole precariously, her arms already trembling from the strain. 

Vi moved to grab her but stopped dead in her tracks when the door squeaked open, and the sound of heavy steel-capped boots thudded against the wooden floor. A bright flashlight beamed in sporadic directions across the room as the Enforcer leisurely prowled, searching for you and your siblings. Your eyes desperately jumped from the blue metal uniform below, to your little sister across from you, who was desperately holding onto the pipe as tightly as she could. Even in the darkness, you could see the beads of sweat beginning to run down her face. Vi's eyes met yours, and they looked more stricken with panic than you'd ever seen before. Your gut clenched painfully in response. 

The longer that Powder struggled, the more that the buzzing behind your eyes intensified. The humming - slowly growing to a vibration - spread from behind your eyes to the back of your head and down the nape of your neck as you stared at Powder's tiny hands, silently begging them to hold on. Immediately, almost imperceptibly to the naked eye, Powder’s hands stopped trembling. Her eyes shot open, a confused but relieved expression crossing her face as her stare shot to her hands. They had stopped slipping, almost as if an invisible support was holding her steady. 

The sound of violent static hissed in your ears, drowning out the Enforcer's footsteps below, as your eyes stayed tranced on the hands and pipe. You didn't even notice when warm liquid began to trickle from your nose, down your lip and chin. Spattering on the wood at your feet, it began a slow drip, staining the wood a bright crimson. First your right nostril, then your left. Your head was beginning to pound, and your teeth ground together tightly, as pressure raged behind your eyes and in your temples.

The sudden sound of the door slamming shut shattered your trance-like focus, and you jumped violently in response. In that split second, Powder slipped from the pipe, falling heavily to the floor with yelp. You looked down to her in panic, and her eyes met briefly with yours before she scrambled to duck under the bed, knowing that the Enforcer could return at any second.

Unable to stop the groan of pain, you curled in on yourself, holding your throbbing head - your jaw clenched so hard that it was surprising it didn't snap. The throbbing in your head matched your heartbeat, feeling as though the entire room was quaking in tandem. You could faintly hear muffled yelling through the wall, but the loud static in your ears drowned out the sound of the words. Arms wrapping around your head, you pushed your wet nose against your knees to muffle your pained breaths. 

A gentle hand rubbed your shoulder, and you knew by the sheer size of the appendage that it was Claggor, trying to silently comfort you. Weakly, you lifted your own hand to hold his, trying to concentrate on the feeling of his clammy palm rather than the incessant thumping, as the pain slowly began to ebb away to a dull ache.

Your head jumped up violently once more as you heard the door creak open again.

“Are you all okay?” You collectively sighed in relief at the sound of Vander's soft voice.

Vi leapt from the opening, landing heavily on the floor with a grunt. “No, we're not okay. They almost saw Powder.” She replied with frustration. “What if they took her?” 

The girl in question climbed out from under the bed, reaching out to turn on a small lamp, softly illuminating the room.

“No one is taking any of you.” Vander reassured her firmly. “I'd never let that happen.”

You rubbed your temples as you climbed down from the ceiling. Claggor, who had descended before you, caught you in his arms when you stumbled.

“It's already happening!” She shouted back in exasperation, throwing her hand out to gesture at the situation you were in. “You heard him, they won't stop. We need to fight back.” She punctuated her words with a punch to the wall, causing you to grab your head at the surge of pain that the loud sound caused. “You're out there making deals with the Enforcers - but you won't fight for us?” She sounded so hurt that it took the wind out of you.

“Vi-” You started, but she cut you off, whirling to face you.

“And you knew about it and didn't tell me. Why?” Her voice cracked with betrayal. She was close to tears, and you had to swallow down the lump growing in your throat. You couldn't answer. At your silence, she scoffed, turning back to Vander. “If you won't fight, I will.” 

Vander sighed deeply, looking to the floor. “I've heard this type of talk before.” His tone was one of resignation. All you wanted to do was wrap yourself in a blanket and hide away from this situation - pretend it wasn't happening - but you couldn't. Everything was falling apart. 

Vander took a breath before looking back to Violet. “Come with me.” She rolled her eyes heavily but followed him out the door, leaving you with the kids.

It was silent for a moment before-

“What the hell is this all about?” Mylo asked with thinly veiled concern, gesturing to you. Your eyes dropped to look at your shirt, groaning when you saw deep red staining the fabric. Surprisingly, after all that had happened - all the pain that you had just experienced - this was what sent a jolt of white-hot irritation down your spine. You suddenly empathised with Mylo after your trip through the landfill. You just got this shirt.

“I dunno.” You shrugged, rubbing gentle circles into your temples in an attempt to further ease the dull ache. “Headache?”

It wasn't a lie, not really. But it also wasn't the complete truth. You didn't know what the hell had just happened either - and to be honest, you didn't want to know.

If you wanted the truth, that would mean accepting that something unnatural had just happened, and you weren't ready for that. Weren't ready to admit that the buzzing under your skin had, at that moment, turned into something else. Something that you'd never felt before. But you could still sense it - a ghostly echo of something new inside of you. While Powder was hanging, you could feel the weight of her hands as if they were your own. And for a moment, it felt like you were the one who had held her steady, as if something invisible had obeyed your silent desperation.

No. Nope. It was a coincidence - nothing more, nothing less. It was a trick of your mind, you decided. You weren't going to make it into something that it wasn't.

“I'm fine.” You told them curtly, ignoring the look of concern that Mylo shot Claggor, as you moved to grab a set of clean clothes. “I just need to clean up.” And with those words, you left the room, leaving no opportunity for any more questions.

Cramming yourself into the small, dimly lit bathroom - you released a long, deep breath that you didn't realise you were holding. Dropping your clothes on the dirty floor, you dragged yourself to the tiny metal bathtub and turned the faucets until it was filled with cold, suspiciously coloured water.

Stripping off your blood-stained clothes, your eyes caught your face in the reflection of the cracked mirror, smudged with fingerprints. As you leaned over the grotty basin to look closer, your breath hitched. A thick blood-red ring circled your irises - capillaries shattered from the force pounding through your skull leaching into the whites of your eyes. 

Your fingers raised to ghost over your cheekbones. Was your skin paler than usual, or was it just a trick of the lighting? The thing that caught your eye next brought an audible gasp to your lips. Fingers dragging through your scalp, your eyes narrowed at the sight of white strands peppered throughout the black shag of your hair. This was definitely new. 

No. it didn't mean anything. You were imagining things. Everything was fine.

Backing away from the mirror, you climbed into the tub and curled in on yourself. You tried to steady your breathing, but the breaths quickly turned into silent sobs that racked your body.

“You're okay. Everything is okay.” You whispered, desperately trying to convince yourself of what you knew wasn't true. Rocking gently back and forth to soothe your anxiety, you watched, transfixed, as the water diluted the deep red running down your skin until it faded into a soft pink, before disappearing completely into the chilled water surrounding you. The same water that swallowed your silent tears.

By the time you returned to the basement, Vi was back, sitting alone on her bunk in the corner of the room, far away from the rest of the kids, loudly chatting on the couch. 

You huffed a sigh and climbed into the bed next to her. “How did the guilt trip with Vander go? Pick up any souvenirs?” You asked with a soft grin, trying to break the ice. She didn't respond - didn't even look at you - she just continued to pick at a loose thread on her pants with her mouth pressed in a harsh line. “Hey, you okay?” You tried again, resting a hand on her shoulder, testing the waters. She remained quiet, and you almost got up to leave before she finally responded.

“Why did you do it?” Vi asked, voice just above a whisper.

“What?” You asked in confusion, eyebrows knitting together.

“Yesterday.” Her powder blue eyes looked into yours, and all that you could see was pain. “Why did you leave me behind?” She spat, her tone one of pure frustration. “Why did you run off and put yourself in danger when I had to stay behind and wait like a helpless kid?” Her eyes had left yours again, instead staring at the loose thread like it was the most interesting thing on the planet.

“You know that I had to get Vander.” You replied simply, keeping your tone soft and even. You hated to see your sister in pain.

“We could have gone together.” She replied through gritted teeth.

“No.” You bit down on the inside of your cheek. “I needed to know that you were safe.”

She spat out a harsh laugh. “Right. When have the Lanes ever been safe?”

You couldn't argue that fact with her. “You're right. And I wish I could give you the life you deserve, but I can't. All I can do is make sure that you, and our siblings stay alive. As long as I'm here, and as long as I'm still breathing, I'll do anything I can to protect you, and give you a better life.” You released a breath. “That's why I left you behind.” She bit down on her lip before looking up to you. Her expression had softened, and her eyes were glassy with unsheathed tears.

“What-” She croaked. “What about you? You can't just look out for us. Someone needs to be there for you.” 

You gave her a soft smile, reaching forward to brush her hair behind her ear and cradle her face in your hand. “Vi, if I had to go down with the ship to make sure you and the others made it to the lifeboats, I'd do it a million times over - with a smile on my face.” A stray tear rolled down her cheek onto your hand. “You, Powder, the boys, Vander. You're my world. Without you, I would have nothing. You give me everything I could ever need by just being safe.” 

Vi tilted her head, leaning her cheek into your hand, before laying her own over the top. “You know I love you, right?” She whispered, leaning in to wrap her arms around you. “Thank you - for everything.” When she pulled away, she wore an expression of determination. It made you uneasy - but you convinced yourself it was nothing, even as you laid awake in bed that night, tossing and turning, replaying the conversation over and over in your head.

It was a look of determination that would come to haunt you, when the next evening, Powder entered the basement with a mournful expression on her face. You had been sitting at the table with an overly-excited Mylo and Claggor, who were discussing what weapons they were going to use in the rumoured fight with the Enforcers, while simultaneously trying to convince you to let them join the battle. Powder squeezed in beside you on the couch, leaning in to nuzzle into your side. You looked down at her, running your hand through her soft, blue hair before something caught your eye, causing you to freeze.

“Where did you get that?” You asked her, stomach dropping to the floor at the sight of Vi's stuffed rabbit that was cradled gently in the little girl's arms. You knew that rabbit well - seeing it immediately conjured a memory of being scolded by Vander when you'd tried to climb out and rescue it for Vi. The last you'd seen of it, it had been hanging precariously from a pipe system above the pub, overlooking the streets of Zaun.

“Violet.” She replied quietly, not looking up from where she was stroking the old plush toy’s velvety ears.

“Where's Vi?” You asked with panic, turning your body so that you could put your hands on her tiny shoulders.

Powder looked up at you, her eyes welled with tears. “Gone.”

————————————————————————

SWEET BABY JESUS! I'm so sorry that this took legitimately like 3 business years to release. 😭 This chapter was a pain to write.

My personal life has been pretty hectic. I've just been diagnosed with OCD, which had come with a medication change that has legit scrambled my brain. I'm also in the process of getting an ADHD diagnosis - and writing is painfully difficult to do. 😭 I love this story and character so much, and I am trying my hardest not to let go of it, but dang, it's hard.

It may take me a while to release chapters, but I hope the longer word-count makes up a little for it. 😩 Also, holy shit, I didn't realise how hard it was to pin down and actual daily timeline for these first two episodes. That was mega painful.

Also, I hope y'all saw, but I made an announcement on my Tumblr regarding some minor retconning just regarding the ages of Reader and Viktor in this story, as I'd gone into this thinking that Viktor was younger than he canonically is. In this first arc, Reader is now 19, and Viktor is 23.

Hope y'all enjoy! Please feel free to leave feedback. It actually gives me so much motivation to write when I feel like people are actually reading. 🥹🥹

[worldimaginedreaming]

Imagine Being the Only One Who Understands Viktor — Part 3

Summary: He let you in once, for a moment. But now, Viktor is learning that healing isn’t a one-time thing it’s a choice. And maybe this time, he’s ready to choose you. No theories, no projections, no fear. Just something real. Pairing: Viktor x Reader Word Count: ~1,300 Warnings: Emotional healing, soft intimacy, slow-burn comfort, gentle kiss

The next few days were… quieter.

Not empty, not silent just gentler.

Viktor still worked, of course. He was Viktor. But something had shifted. He paced less. Snapped less. You even caught him eating on his own once, like he remembered he had a body to care for and not just a brain to race.

He still hadn’t said much about that night the one where he let himself lean on you. Where he’d admitted, in a whisper, that you made him want to stay.

But the way his eyes lingered when you handed him tea, the way his fingers brushed yours when you passed notes, the way his shoulders relaxed when he realized you were nearby those were confessions in their own way.

You didn’t need grand declarations. You just needed the truth.

He was scribbling calculations on the glass wall of the lab when you walked in again. The faint scent of ink and ozone clung to him, and you could see he was in one of his deep spirals not frantic, but somewhere else.

“Hey,” you said softly, leaning your hip against the desk. “How long have you been up?”

“Two hours,” he said automatically. Then paused. “…Since the second sunrise.”

You blinked. “Viktor. That was yesterday.”

He turned, sheepish. “Ah.”

You crossed the room, tugged the pen from his hand, and took both of his in yours.

“You promised me,” you murmured, voice gentle. “No more burning out.”

He opened his mouth to argue because of course he did but then he looked at you. Really looked. The tired curve of your mouth, the faint worry in your eyes.

And for once, he didn’t argue.

“I’m trying,” he said quietly. “I don’t always know how.”

You brought one of his hands to your lips and pressed a kiss to his knuckles. “Then let me help you remember.”

That night, he didn’t go back to the lab bench.

Instead, you found yourselves on the old couch again, tangled together in the hush of the workshop, your legs across his lap as you half-read an old book aloud.

Viktor wasn’t listening, not really. His gaze was on you not intense, just soft. Like watching you breathe was enough to keep him grounded.

You lowered the book.

“What?” you asked, teasing.

He shook his head. “I don’t know how I lived before you. It all seems… louder now. Sharper. But easier, too. Like I was moving through fog before.”

You rested your hand over his heart. “That’s how I feel when you let me in.”

He swallowed. “It scares me.”

“I know.”

There was silence.

Then so carefully, it almost broke you—he touched your face, brushing a stray piece of hair behind your ear.

“I think I’m tired of running,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. “Tired of thinking the next breakthrough will make the fear go away.”

You leaned in. “Then stop running. Start staying.”

He didn’t move.

So you did.

Your lips brushed his soft, lingering, not urgent. Just there. Like a promise.

When you pulled back, Viktor’s eyes were glassy. Not from tears. Just from everything.

He smiled. “You make me believe I deserve this.”

You kissed his forehead next, and rested your brow to his.

“You do.”

Later, with his head in your lap and your hand combing gently through his hair, he murmured, “You really are the only one who ever understood me.”

You smiled. “Good. Then I’m not going anywhere.”

And for the first time in what felt like forever, Viktor slept not from exhaustion, but from peace.

A/N: Here's Part 3 of "Imagine Being the Only One Who Understands Viktor". Hope u like it! Don't forget to Like, Share & Subsrcribe ! ❤️❤️❤️❤️

Lot of love ! Big Kiss ! ❤️❤️❤️❤️

[ao3feed-arcane]

ViktorXReader

by beurreoughs You are a young journalist from the Fringes working for The Piltover Globe. You witnessed the explosion of Jayce's lab from your friend's apartment. Your redaction board asks you to investigate on the matter, while the Academy tries to hide as much info as possible. But in a way or another, you meet Viktor, and a few things you did not even expect start to unravel. Words: 40925, Chapters: 25/?, Language: English Fandoms: Arcane: League of Legends (Cartoon 2021) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Major Character Death Categories: F/F, F/M Characters: Viktor (League of Legends), Mel Medarda, Heimerdinger (League of Legends), Powder from s02e07 AU (Arcane: League of Legends), Silco (Arcane: League of Legends), Vander (League of Legends), Vi (League of Legends), Ekko (League of Legends), Jayce (League of Legends) Relationships: Viktor (League of Legends)/You Additional Tags: Slow Burn, Romance, darkacademia, Independent Zaun (League of Legends), Piltover Academy (League of Legends), Piltover (League of Legends), Soft Academia read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/laE38Bs

[glassclosetsecrets]

After the HORRID end of the final season of the umbrella academy I need more viktorxreader and allisonxreader smut so I can be delulu and pretend it didnt all end like that 😭😭😭

[basicallydeadinsidelol]

THIS IS SO FLUFFY I LOVE ITTT

#viktorxreader

#arcane

Funny SFW Viktor x Gn!Reader Headcanons 💖

-Viktor cannot STAND black coffee. Sometimes when you're pissed at him, you "forget" to add creamer or sweetmilk. His face is hilarious.

-He isn't an animal guy- they take lots of time to care for... which he does not have. But when you rescue some kitten off of the streets, he can't help but treat it like a baby. He bought one of those little feather shakers and spends his free time snuggling your kitty. Despite insisting he isn't emotionally attached.

"Fur baby? This is not my fur baby! He's just small and fluffy, that's all. Now stop teasing me," he says, dramatically looking up at you while gently petting the little thing.

-Terrible at interior design. Used to have only a single sad wooden chair at the "dining" table. Note: There is a small crack in the sad wooden chair due to prolonged ponderings. 🪑

"Where do you even buy these things? Most of my decor consists of scattered notes and trinkets." (He is looking at a finger painting of a bird that your toddler cousin made.)

-Viktor is a big fan of meal prepping and has a giant pot's worth of soup or pasta available 24/7. Sometimes he invites you over just to help polish off a hefty tupperware full of fettuccine before it goes bad. He's a surprisingly good cook, whipping up a mean omelet for you on lazy mornings.

-He has calloused and worn hands from writing and tinkering all day. As a gag gift, you buy him those kiddie princess band-aids... your know the ones. After a small mishap, he reaches into the first aid drawer of the lab, only to pull out a smiley anthropomorphic dog. Oh well, he thinks, wrapping it around his finger.

"I see you're wearing the band-aids I bought you, hm?" you tease.

"Very funny," he says, eyes still glued to the bolt he's turning.

-Viktor is nosy when he gets bored. He looks through your books, adding little notes on random pages.

"Spicy, don't you think? I'm sure Heimerdinger wouldn't approve. Tsk tsk, dove." - V

📖🖊

(Written in the best chapter of your romance novel.)

-During academy meetings and events, you have a subtle signal for what is essentially a side eye. Phrases like:

-"Did you hear that right?" 🤨

-"That's crazy talk." 🙄

-"Are you ready to leave?" 🥱

-"Look over there." 👀

Are expressed with two hand-squeezes.

“I love you” is expressed with three.

______________________________________________________________

Hello this is my first tumblr thing I'm scared thank you goodbye

[hivemuthur]

OMG THE REQUESTS ARE OPEN AGAIN!!! I hope you get many (but not too many). Could I request something sickly sweet, like to the point of giving me diabetes. Like a viktorxreader where viktor takes reader's house name so it's easier filling all the paperwork, plus viktor gets some benefits for being associated with that house. (So they're basically married?). Maybe viktor's mom comes to visit? I didn't really think this one thoroughly but I really really want to see where your brain goes with this.

Ps. Love confessions and mother's intuition are some if my favorite tropes🤭😉

Please do take your time with this one since my last request was posted not long ago! I'm sure there are many people who were waiting for you requests to be open again❤️❤️

All the love, and have fun writing!

~🍒

Hi Janna, I'm gonna reply to this one, because we've interacted a lot and I don't want to leave you hanging. I hope you will forgive me, but I will take a liberty on this one and not write it, since my personal HC is that Viktor's parents are dead (I really don't want to write Slavic mother, you guys wouldn't like it) AND because I actually HC that he wouldn't take his partner's name upon marriage! I give some of my Zaun OCs last names, but I've built them backstories where they are not originally from Zaun. I think it's a very unique setting where characters don't have last names and it's part of their culture that I don't want to change :)