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aplainmeresimp · 5 months ago

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In the Blue Hours of the Morning: Chapter 2 - The Pendulum Swings

Full Fanfic Summary in Chapter 1

Story tags/warnings: pre-season 1, no use of y/n or real world language, strangers to friends to lovers, fluffy, acts of service as viktors love language, academic weapon reader, viktor pov chapters, eventual sky pov chapter, eventual nsfw. unrequited love towards sky :( random oc created for the sole purpose of being a side character. not a song fic, chapters names are just inspired by song lyrics. the only thing viktors insecure about is him being an assistant, he knows he’s fine.

Chapter 2 Word Count: 5.3k

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A nine out of ten.

That's what Professor Penmark gave you on the final. Why, you may ask?

“A smudge on the last page,” he said as he wrote your grade in his class list. Afterwards, he circled the smudge and handed it back to you. You flipped to the last page and it shocked you.

It was miniscule. Barely traceable. A nine would be a blessing for other classes, but to get a nine out of ten over a smudge? Ludicrous. Ridiculous. Fuming with rage, you gave him a smile and said, “thank you for the class, Professor.”

You calmly walked out of his office with your graded project. As soon as you turned the corner, you found the nearest trash can, took your project out of its folder, and dumped it into the trash.

Who’s even named Penmark? It's a noun and a noun. Or a noun and a verb. Might as well be named Professor Asswipe. Same difference with that attitude.

Storming to your dorm, students passed you with a twinge of fear. It seemed like a dark cloud loomed over you. The sun had fully set, giving its final remnants of light as the day came to its end.

How could he lower your grade by ten percent over a smudge? That was a new low for him. You would’ve taken a nine point five, even. It wasn't personal, though. You knew as much. He treated every student equally. Equally as bad. Someone probably had the misfortune of failing. That meant no graduation for them.

Perhaps it was time to count your blessings.

Perhaps not. You thought. I deserved that full score.

Growing closer to your dorm filled you with mixed feelings. Mostly since you didn’t interact as much with your roommates. Your routine was always class, work at the library, work in one of the gardens till late at night, and finally go to your dorm to sleep. You didn’t want to pull your late-night studies with two people sleeping.

It's not like you never interacted, it just became less and less as the semesters went on. Still, they saw you when you went there to take a bath or swap into a different set of your uniform. They understood, but it still stung not being around. You were one of the few people that liked your roommates.

Sky, a bioengineering major, was kind and a little shy. She usually worked in the dorm at her neat desk against the wall stacked with plenty of bullet journals she wrote in. Your first interaction with her was about two years ago during the yearly dorm switch.

She said you could have the first pick when you arrived. That was sweet of her. In return, you picked the worst section in return. The bunk bed with no space to sit in and the communal closet under it with a sad excuse for a desk beside it. It was the least you could do after she made such a generous offer.

Cirsche was the opposite. A bold and extroverted architecture major. Her parts of the dorm gave a pop of color to the whole room. Colorful coasters and floor plans were always scattered across her desk and sometimes yours too. It didn’t bother you, seeing as you were rarely in your room. There were always rags stained with alcohol markers soaking in the small bathroom you all shared.

You clenched the doorknob and swept into the dorm. As usual, Sky sat at her desk in the room, bending over a book and a notebook. She looked up, then at you. “It's a miracle that you’re here.” She did a double take of your face, “Woah, are you okay?”

“No.” The light sound of the shower running contrasted the ruckus your shoes made when you kicked them off.

She got up from her chair, took the folder from your hands, and set it on the table. “Do you… Want to talk about it?”

“If I had seen it I would have fixed it.” Your hands flew up in disbelief, “In fact, I would have remade the entire page!”

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Sky pulled out the chair from the small desk in the center of the room and asserted, “Sit. Breathe.” She sat on the desk and waited for you.

You closed your eyes, inhaled and huffed, “The teacher gave me a nine. Over a smudge on the project.”

For a moment she seemed shocked, then her face turned calm. It was like she knew what you needed to hear. “But you passed? And was it your last project? Classes are done, right?”

“Yes and yes. No classes left to go to either.” Your anger dissipated little by little.

“Okay, that’s all that matters. Now you just need to focus on the final.”

“I know. I know.” You bit the inside of your lip. It wasn’t anger anymore, it was disappointment. Or at least something like it.

You needed to be great. Not just good enough. Being from somewhere different meant you always had to prove yourself. Set the standard. Undercity people weren’t viewed the same. Over the years, you’d overhear people say things like ‘criminals’, ‘uncivilized’, and ‘them’. It was useful to hide the information of your origins and only reveal it to some people, seeing as not everyone took it well.

Even if you were to keep it discrete, sometimes… Just sometimes, you thought people could sense you weren’t originally from Piltover. Was it overthinking? Maybe. However, deep down, you knew that going to school and practically growing up there meant nothing to the wrong people.

“I understand. You know I do.” Her arms crossed and her head tilted, looking for your attention. “But you already proved yourself. There’s nothing left for you to prove. Do you understand?”

You nodded. It was nice to hear it every now and then.

“Good. Let’s change the subject. I don’t want to see you sad all day.” She got up from the table and went to her desk, “What are you doing tomorrow?”

“Well…” You unbuttoned your vest. “I wanted to go ask an ex-alumni about the final exam. To get an idea of what it’s going to be like.”

She smacked her forehead, “Ugh, you’re right! I should do that too.”

“Wanna come?” You turned on the room’s light, the night becoming darker by the minute, “I’m starting kind of early tomorrow.”

“I would but the bioengineering final is different.” Sky rolled back in her chair, “I’ll start doing that next week.”

The night grew darker, and your nighttime routines started. Cirsche came out of the shower, you went in and changed into loose clothes to go to bed, and Sky put her notebooks away and cleaned her desk. At a certain point, Cirsche left to get dinner and came back with bowls of rice for everyone. Being with them on the floor, trying not to laugh to not wake the neighbors, and sharing food was as close as you had to a family.

It was an extra special bond. When other people left for the vacation period, you three, along with a few others, chose to stay. Everyone with their reasons. Sky remained to have a place away from the undercity, independence. It was easier for her to stay put and go back to see her relatives. Cirsche just liked living at the university. You couldn’t blame her. It had great access to most transportation, shops, and everything in between.

A few others like you had nowhere else to go. No family or primary home to go to. Your whole life was at school. Morning and night. Semesters and vacation time alike.

You were definitely an anomaly. Rarely did people ask to stay with the same roommates, but the three of you just fit right. The first year cemented your friendship enough to ride it out until the end of university. It wasn’t bad having to share around the clock when your friends turned into your family.

The clock struck ten and it was time for bed.

“How’s the job going?” Cirsche asked you in the darkness from the bottom bunk across the room.

“Not bad. Could be worse.” You replied, already in bed, with the cool breeze from the window inciting you to cover up.

Weirdly enough, it was the whole truth. On the weekends you’d go to a few restaurants and sweep their sidewalks and entryways for a good amount of coins. It was tiring work after ten shops or so, but you needed to afford to eat. The university only gave you a place to stay. Everything else like food, uniforms, school supplies, and transportation was your responsibility. It was fairly nice. Some of the shopkeepers knew you and threw in a baked bun, a hairclip, or a fancy pencil along with your payment.

“Now imagine your next job! Engineer slash scientist!” Sky’s hands spread, showing you her vision.

“I know. I’ll miss it a little though.” You’d miss the people, the reason to get some fresh air. What you wouldn’t miss was having to work as a student.

They said something else you couldn’t pick up. Their words became fuzzy, incoherent. You felt like you forgot to do something as you were trying to reply. Then you stopped thinking and replying altogether. Sweet rest invited you in and you were gone.

The morning came slow and fresh with a spirited breeze, the norm for Piltover. Your ears picked up the sound from the window coming from the courtyard a few stories below. Students yelling and laughing, having enjoyed the morning more than you already. Not long after, your eyes creaked open to an empty dorm. No Sky or Cirsche to be found. There was, however, a note on the side of your bunk.

It read, ‘We tried to wake you for breakfast, but you didn’t wake up. Be back later!’. With a little smiley face on the bottom.

Wake me for breakfast? Isn’t it still early��

You looked at the clock that hung over the door frame.

Eleven thirty in the morning.

Shit.

The day was escaping you already. On weekends you could wake up naturally, no alarm clock needed. It was a skill acquired or rather, a curse acquired from years of academic pressure. Yet, the day you wanted to start early, you forgot to set an alarm and your body decided it wanted to rest more. Nice.

You mentally slapped yourself, knowing that was what you forgot to do. Not wanting to punish yourself any further, you got out of bed and got dressed in your uniform. You took your brown school bag and made your way out.

There was a mental list of the people you knew from last year that could help you.

Emmeline, Theodore, Dorian, and Itsel. All recent graduates from engineering and with jobs even before they graduated, which they were still at. They were all nice enough when you spoke to them a few times during orientation week. You hoped they could give you some pointers at least. But first, you had to get into town.

You took a group carriage to town to save some time. The inner parts of the city always exuded a faint glow, it seemed. Streets, buildings, and even people were lined with the best metals. Gold, iron, you name it. Even something as simple as a fence was perfectly crafted, symmetrical, and welded to fit together as one.

As soon as you got off the carriage, the walking began. The trip was exhausting. All on foot. The paved streets made it bearable, but the inclination upwards to certain places didn’t help.

You arrived at their workplaces one by one, and each time, you chatted with them for a bit and then mentioned what you needed:

“I need help tomorrow or in two days or so for the final assessment coming up. It would be a huge help to me if you could even though I know they change the test every year. It would be nice to know how broad the topics get. I’ll buy you lunch for it if you can!”

Sadly, their answers were kind but not exactly what you hoped to hear.

Emmeline said, “Sorry, I would but I have work and then I have to get home and wait for the plumber.”

Then came Theodore, “I can, just not tomorrow. Does next week work?”

Dorian responded, “I’m busy for five days or so in the evening, I have to babysit.”

And finally, Itsel, “Oh goodness! I’m so sorry! I’m leaving town today for a work trip.”

It was time to cut your losses. You thought you could wait for Theodore next week. Then again, you would either lose time by not studying.

I’ll just start studying now. Might as well. Something is better than nothing. You thought.

It was better to start now with no guidance than to not start at all.

However, there was a whole major to review. Every day counted. But studying everything would be too much content for a month of studying or less. That’s why you needed someone to help you narrow it down.

Whatever. I’ll start studying and if Theodore’s free still by next week he can help.

By the time you made it back to the academy, it was already three o'clock. Bad timing for sure. Students were getting out of class and rushing to the library to snag the tables and chairs. It’s not like you could grab a book and leave. Every single year during that month, without fail, everything was scarce. Chairs, seats, books, encyclopedias, even floor space.

So you ran.

Entering the building was chaotic. The main hallway on the first floor was packed with students and teachers. If you were to get there first, you had to find a shortcut. You looked to your left to the staircase and sprinted. A step or two were skipped in the process, but with a generous amount of stairs present, it was necessary. Winded from the run you walked through the third floor. Thankfully, it was almost free of students.

You whispered to yourself as you picked up the pace again, “Okay. I need a mathematical fundamentals book first. I hope the first semesters don’t take them all.”

You checked your bag for everything you needed for a long study session. Notebooks to write in, money for a snack or two, erasers, a ruler, and–

Oh, Janna.

There were no pens or pencils anywhere in your bag. You kept looking for one in denial. Hell, even a stubby one. Anything! Going back to your dorm for some would set you back ten valuable minutes at least, if you were to go fast. Although, you were going fast.

You just didn’t notice how fast you were going.

There has to be one in here–

“Careful!”

WHAM!

Your perfect quick pace was interrupted by a slam onto your abdomen. A rain of metal clangs sounded through the corridor as you fell backward. In between the pain, you noticed the person's shoes.

Another student.

“Oh. It’s you again.”

You looked up, wincing. It was the professor's assistant going into his lab.

What was his name again? Vincent? Viktor! Right.

“Yep. It’s me. Hi.” You grunted as you stood up. He offered his hand but you didn’t take it, putting your hand up, “I got it. Thanks.” You dusted yourself off and started picking up the tools that flew everywhere. “Sorry about that.”

“Be careful next time, otherwise I think you’ll walk off a balcony by accident one day.” Viktor slowly kneeled, holding onto the cart to pick up one of the wrenches on the ground. You handed him the rest of the tools and he set them with the others. It wasn’t exactly organized. Well, it probably was before you rammed into it.

“Yeah, I’ll do that.”

He started pushing the long metal cart into the lab once more, “Good to see you again.”

“You too.” You answered, rubbing your stomach in pain and walking away.

Sheesh. What a hit… Wait–

In an instant, your mind stacked a thought. An idea. A potential.

“Hey!” You turned on your heel. “Wait!”

The large door was about to close and then it stopped. A brief moment passed and Viktor peeked from the entry.

You sighed in relief. “Could I ask for a huge favor? If it’s not too much trouble, that is.”

He looked confused, then motioned you into the lab that mesmerized you the day before. You skipped towards the lab and he closed the door behind you. The place was lightly organized but still maintained Heimerdinger's charm with its pinch of chaos. Viktor sat down at the tall table in the middle and started transferring his tools to it.

“About the favor…” His voice was calm. “Would the favor include not crashing into the equipment?”

Man, you felt like he was rubbing it in. You smiled awkwardly. “Now it will.”

“Ask, then.”

You stayed near the door, only seeing him slightly from the side. “I’m having my final assessment soon.”

His head nodded once, and he said, “Your equation results went well, I assume?”

“Well…” You cringed. It wasn’t untrue, but it wasn’t what you expected.

He turned back to you, eyebrows furrowed, eyes wide. “Was there something wrong with it?”

“Not at all. I got a nine out of ten.”

“What? Why a nine?” His eyes shifted, looking for a reason. Viktor turned back to the tools with his hand on his chin. “It was efficient. Near perfect even.”

You huffed and mumbled, “Penmark said there was a smudge.”

“A smudge? Where?” He turned back again, with even more energy this time. This was a completely different person from the one you met the day before. He was entirely expressive. His expression was a mix of offended and flabbergasted.

“That’s what I thought. It’s barely noticeable.” At least you knew you weren’t going insane. That teacher was being overly strict.

“Is the favor getting him fired?” Viktor’s eyes narrowed.

Your eyes widened. “I didn’t say that… I don’t want to deal with him anymore, so it’s fine. He probably has a family. I wouldn’t want to get someone fired over nothing personal.”

His eyes returned to normal, and an almost untraceable smile was present when he returned to his task. “So then, what’s the favor?”

“Like I said, my final assessment is soon. I need help from someone who has already graduated to give me an idea of what to expect or how it goes.” Your mind wandered, remembering your failed attempts, “I went to every single upperclassman I knew, and they were all busy. Then I ran into you, and here we are.”

Viktor looked at you. “So you assume I’m not busy.” No emotion was on his face. Nothing. Not even a blink. He looked away.

Fuck.

Your hands waved frantically, and your words fell out in rapid succession, “No! I meant that I exhausted my options and I happened to run into you. More like crashing– Anyway, that's not the point–”

Any words you had planned to say halted. You saw Viktor’s head slightly tilted towards you. A small, barely traceable smirk was present on his face.

He wasn’t serious.

“You’re messing with me, right?”

He snorted.

First, a wave of relief washed over you. You were glad you didn’t offend him. Then came astonishment. He barely knew you, and he had the gall to make you socially panic?

“You had me there for a second.” You crossed your arms.

“I did, yes.” In his voice, you could hear a smile still present on his face.

“I was also planning on buying whoever said yes some lunch. I’ll be in the library today. Please let me know if you can.” You made your way to the door. “I know you are busy, but if you could please help me, I’d be extremely thankful.”

“Eh… I’ll make time.”

You looked back in shock, “So you’ll help me?” Was this it? You found someone willing to help? Who would have guessed that crashing into someone would become something good?

“Yes. Coffee would be nice. It could be at the Academy if you prefer.”

The university's coffee wasn’t bad, but not great. And very overpriced for its taste. You opted for something else, “Do you know a place outside of the university?”

He turned in his chair and searched for a memory with his eyes. “There’s a small coffee shop around Midtown I’ve been to before. How about there?”

“Sure, I can meet you there.”

“I’m available tomorrow after three o’clock. We could meet there at four.” Viktor scanned his eyes across the table until they landed on a pen. With a soft click of its end, he prepared it for writing, “It’s called ‘Cogs of Coffee.’ Brown brick with a gear behind the sign.” He tore one of the corners of a sheet of paper, wrote it down, and handed it to you, “Hard to miss.”

You walked a few steps toward him and took the paper. His writing was fancy and slanted, with some letters connecting, bordering on cursive.

“Cogs of Coffee…” You read and nodded, “Yeah, I know where it is. See you there at four then?”

“Four it is.”

The walk back to your dorm was relieving. Finally, someone who could help. You were definitely going to buy him coffee in the best mood possible. The library could wait. You were already out of luck for a spot anyway. For now, you could rest without guilt. Hell, you even had a smile on your face as you pranced to your dorm.

Sky was cleaning her desk when you came in. She raised an eyebrow with a smile, “Someone looks happy. And rested.”

“Yes, very.” You were practically beaming. Even putting your things away felt fun and light.

“Were any of the upperclassmen available to help, then?”

“Something like that.”

After having some security, the day flew by in a blink. As did the night.

You knew you could pass the final, but you didn’t want to risk it. You had an even bigger chance to make it. Thanks to the kindness of an upperclassman you barely knew. Among your thoughts, you hoped to live up to the potential your parents knew you had. You hoped to have a stable job, and contribute something to the world. It all felt so close.

The next morning was pleasant. You didn’t know if it was the weather or your mood. Honestly, you couldn't care any less. You were solely focused on getting to Midtown for lunch. With your bag packed with the same notebooks from yesterday, but now accompanied by pens, you headed out.

Midtown was always full no matter the season or the hour. The area always bustled and sang with hundreds of people roaming through its endless shops and vendors. Everything was always on sale. Whatever you were looking for, they had it. Books, pens, tools, pets, clothes, you name it. The most remarkable thing about it was the food. Heavens, the food.

You hadn’t ever gotten around to trying everything because of the sheer amount of food that was available. There were shops, tents, and carts ready to offer you the very best of the best. All the cooks seemed to be masters of their craft. The best thing ever had been mashed potatoes and gravy from a cook from Bilgewater. Holy smokes. It was the right consistency, the perfect amount of spices.

Now it was time to try a new coffee place. You’d been to a few before, but never the one Viktor suggested. In between the crowds of people, you looked for the shop. Gear behind the name. Brown brick.

After a block or two, there it was on a corner. Cogs of Coffee. It had a golden sign, as they usually were in Piltover, with large arched windows on its sides. Its quaint white door waited for you in the center. A light bell rang as you walked in, being greeted by a sweet smell mixed in with the strong coffee scent. The floors were dark polished wood and its walls dark green and plastered in framed newspaper headlines, insect mounts, and flower presses.

Not many people were in it, to your surprise. The ten tables were only a third of the way filled, and the booths were empty. All but one.

A voice calling your name came from the booths on the left side of the shop. Viktor sat with his hand up giving half a wave. You waved as you shuffled to the booth and scooted in, “Have you been waiting long?”

Viktor rolled up the sleeves of his uniform, “Eh, just a few minutes. The waitress already brought a menu.” He slid it towards you, “If you want to look it over.”

“Thanks, I will.” You took off your bookbag and skimmed through it.

The menu was simple, albeit pretty extensive. Some of the options were:

Honeyfruit Tea (Cold Brew)

Kiwa infused coffee

Regular coffee (Custom preparation)

Chocolate biscuits

Sweetmilk muffins

Non-Poro Poro Snax

Milkshakes (Chocolate, Vanilla, Berry)

“I recommend the sweetmilk muffins. The regular coffee is great too,” Viktor interrupted.

You tilted your head at the menu. “They sound good. We can order them.”

One of the waitresses came to your table with a smile and her blonde hair in a messy bun. “Good afternoon, I’ll be your server for today! Are you two ready to order?” Her hand waited on her paper pad.

Viktor went first, “Yes, thank you. I’ll have the, uh, regular coffee, with the sugars and glasses of milk on the side so we can mix it here.”

“Sounds good.” She wrote in her notepad and turned to you with a practiced smile. "And you?”

“I’ll have the same.” You looked at the menu one last time, turned to her, and said, “and an order of sweetmilk muffins. Please.”

“Alright! So, two coffees and the muffins.” She tapped the edge of her notepad as she went through the short order. “I’ll be back in a few minutes,” she held her hand out for the menu. “If there’s anything else, let me know!”

The light conversation and clinks from cups filled the brief silence as the waitress left. Viktor rested his hands on the wooden table and asked, “did you bring a pen and paper?” His voice pulled you out of the hum coming from the mixture of noises.

You scrambled for the items. “Oh, yeah.”

Viktor spent the time elaborating on how much time the test would last, the rules, and the sections of the test. It wasn’t anything you hadn’t heard before from teachers, but hearing it from another student in more casual words made a world of difference. There would be three sections that never changed: Language, theoretical mathematics, and applied engineering. Applied engineering was what worried you. He said it was more about logic rather than calculating, which made it very subjective.

By the time your order came, he had gotten to the interesting bit: The potential subjects.

He thanked the waitress and continued. “Don’t stress about the minor subjects in topics. Focus on the main part of a topic.” Starting to pour some beige milk into his coffee, he explained, “for example, you have topic one, right? And the topic has sections, with each section elaborating more as you go on. Stick to the first two sections, which are the most important. I noticed that when I took it.”

“So… I should just study the general part of every topic?” You took a bite of the golden muffins. By Janna, they were amazing. Creamy and fluffy all at once. Surprise was plastered all over your face.

“If I’m honest,” he stirred his coffee, if you could even call it that, since it was ninety percent milk. “I don't think you need to study as much. Heimerdinger says you're bright enough.” Viktor raised his eyebrows at you and took a drink.

He did?

What a compliment. The founder of the city thinking you were competent wasn’t something you expected.

“He said that? When?”

He sighed from the taste of his drink. “I asked him to leave earlier today to come here with you. He mentioned you were one of the best in class.”

“Wow.”

“He also added that even if that was the case, it was good you looked for extra help.” Viktor looked up, trying to remember. “Eh, something like... A stitch in time saves nine.”

You smiled and replied, “the professor and his metaphors.”

“Still, don't overwork yourself. You have enough time. Worry when you have none left.”

You wrote down all of his advice, and at the bottom of the page, you wrote: You’re smart, relax.

At a point in the afternoon, you began talking about mundane things. You learned Viktor was a work-study student in the master’s program, working on his invention as his thesis. He couldn’t say what it was because of confidentiality, but that when it was done, it would be on display if you were interested.

Amidst the conversation, a little question rang in the back of your mind.

Is his name with a ‘C’ or with a ‘K’?

You decided to ask. “By the way–”

He looked attentive until the waitress came by with a smile and stopped you both. “Are you two doing good? Would you like the check? Or not yet?”

Viktor looked at you, asking the same question in silence. You nodded with a shrug.

“Yes, please. The check is fine,” he said, handing the waitress his empty mug and yours. “Thank you.”

You hadn’t even realized you had finished your drink.

“I have to get back soon.” Lifting his sleeve, he checked the time on a thin brown watch. “I need to pick up some ball joints for the project I told you about.”

“Yeah. It's getting late. I have to run too.”

The waitress walked to your booth as you looked around for your wallet. Just when you found it, you looked up, and Viktor had placed the amount with some tip in the folder for the waitress. She took it, told you to have a nice day, and left.

You were speechless. The whole point was for you to pay as a thank you, and he didn’t let you do that. “Wasn’t I supposed to buy you the coffee?”

He looked puzzled. Then he understood. “I wasn’t doing this for coffee.” Viktor stood up and took his cane. “I just wanted to help.”

“Thank you, really. For the help, the coffee, and muffins. Good recommendation, by the way.”

You both walked out of the coffee shop and were greeted by the same busy street as before, only less sunny.

Viktor took his cane from his right hand to his left and extended his hand toward you. “If you ever need anything else, you know where to find me.”

You shook his hand and chuckled. “Thanks. I promise I won’t crash into you if I come looking for you.”

“I’d appreciate it.” He smiled.

Viktor waved down a carriage going in the opposite direction of the university.

Before he could leave, you interjected. “Oh. One last thing.”

He looked back at you. “Hm?”

“Are you any good at explaining math?” you asked.

“I tutor in the evenings for the Academy twelfth graders and the university's first-year students. So you tell me.”

“Oh, so you tutor, too? So… no fourth-year students?” You didn’t want to be too forward by saying you wanted to go.

Thankfully, he caught on to what you meant to say. “You can come, if that's what you’re asking. I see various topics. It’ll jog your memory. If you have something specific you want to cover, I can do that too.”

The open carriage came to a stop for him, and he gave a silver coin to the driver. He opened the door and stepped onto it.

“That would be great.” Amazing, actually. You didn't necessarily need the tutoring, but the extra practice was always useful.

He sat down, and the carriage started to move. “Room fifteen in Wing Five. Seven o’clock in the evening.”

You raised your voice to confirm. “Got it. Fifteen, Wing Five.”

#extra long chapter because i made you wait :( i was getting engaged and i quit my job and im moving LMAO #viktor arcane #viktor x reader #arcane #league of legends #in the blue hours of the morning #ao3 author curse #thank you for all the amazing comments here and on ao3 #they meant so much to me <3

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aplainmeresimp · 7 months ago

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In the Blue Hours of the Morning: Chapter 1 - Compete Against the Stars

Summary: You're in your final semester at Piltover’s University, and in your endeavors to revise one of your final papers, you meet Professor Heimerdinger's assistant. He’s quick. Intelligent. And surprisingly charismatic. A last minute friendship forms as you ask for his help to have the best chance to graduate on time and become a scientist yourself. Things are looking up for your studies…Until your stress mixes with some unpredictable feelings.

Story tags/warnings: pre-season 1, no use of y/n or real world language, strangers to friends to lovers, fluffy, acts of service as viktors love language, academic weapon reader, viktor pov chapters, sky pov chapter, eventual nsfw. unrequited love towards sky :( random oc created for the sole purpose of being a side character. not a song fic, chapters names are just inspired by song lyrics. the only thing viktors insecure about is him being an assistant, he knows he’s fine.

Word Count (Chapter 1): 2.3k

Next Chapter ->

Chapter 1 of 21

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Four years. Four years of university were almost over. And yet there wasn’t time or room to slack off, especially not now. You needed to turn in final projects, write essays, and take your final exam. Not take it… Ace it. Demolish it.

Every day was almost always the same. You woke up, dressed yourself, and adjusted your vest with its two pairs of diamonds, and headed to class. No matter how tired you were, you had one goal in mind: success.

And damn, you were getting there.

You were among the top three students in your class, always shifting between number one, two, and three. It hadn’t been easy, especially in science and engineering. One doesn’t make it that far without a system. You had a list of rules for yourself:

Do the homework the day it’s assigned.

Study the homework.

Read ahead.

Borrow books to read more about every subject.

Attend every class. No absences even if you were sick.

No distractions. No parties, no leisure time if an assignment is due. Work first. Always.

Annotate everything that the professors say. Even the small comments.

Study at least three days before a test.

And the most important one:

Don’t let anyone see you fail. Not once.

Perfection was key. Inside and outside of the classroom alike.

Except… it was draining; you couldn’t deny that. This wasn’t in your nature. Maybe it wasn’t in anyone’s nature to try so much. You cherished the moments when you rested in the middle of the gardens in spring, with the birds softly chirping and the grass rustling in the wind. Nothing was better than being right in the middle of the semester, with nothing to do and nothing to turn in. You’d go out to lunch with some friends, maybe read a book or something. Whatever it was, the choice was yours.

That bliss would come again, and soon. Just as soon as you pushed through for one final time to earn your third pair of diamonds.

You could not fail. Not when your parents worked their tails off to leave the undercity and raise you in Piltover. Even when they were still alive and well, they always told you to be the best for yourself. They screwed that into your head ever since you were little. More so when they both got sick from the fumes they had inhaled their whole life. It was the fate of a large chunk of people living in the underbelly of Piltover. Especially people like you who were born in the lower parts of the entresol level. Your parents managed to scrape together enough to rent a small shack on the outskirts of town near the cold and uninviting harbor. Having daily access to sea air over toxic fumes gave you much better odds.

Seeing them cough up blood, lose mobility, and losing them to illness gave you the final push to be self-sufficient. You got into Piltover’s University yourself. You filled out the dormitory paperwork so you wouldn’t sleep on the streets like they once had to. You applied for weekend jobs to feed and clothe yourself during university.

You did that. You, your perseverance, and nobody else.

And gods be damned if anyone thought you would slack off a month before the final exam.

The long corridors went on and on as you swept through them, trying to keep your papers in your notebook.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. I hope he’s in his lab right now. You thought.

You needed Professor Heimerdinger to look over your paper for one of your classes. Normally, you wouldn’t have asked for his help, knowing he had much more important matters at hand. But he had offered help to anyone in one of his classes you took. So, you had to take his word for it. You didn’t have the time to guess if you had done the homework right.

It was due in two days. If there was something wrong, you needed to know. Stat. These kinds of equations were so unforgiving when you put a decimal one space more than it needed to be. With sleep deprivation, any mistake was possible.

Once you made it to his lab, you straightened your vest, sleeves, and organized your pages. Then, with three swift knocks, you made your presence known. The professor's voice echoed through the lab and grew closer with little tip-taps of his feet. The door opened inward, and you looked down.

There he was, short as always and his fur covered in dust. “My! If it isn’t one of my best pupils! Come, come. Come in!” He stepped aside to let you in with a smile. Sheepishly, you skulked in, having never entered his lab. You followed him toward the back of the room to resume what he was doing. It looked like he was organizing and cleaning up the lab. Papers lay scattered, and screws were sprinkled all over the place.

It was amazing.

Its walls stood tall with elevated bookshelves filled to the brim with books. At the far left were three large windows that would let the incoming sunset in. So many gadgets and contraptions were everywhere, big and small. Some finished, some open and in the middle of repairs. And by Janna, the sketches. Endless notes and sketches of invention ideas pasted on walls.

“Apologies for the mess! You know how it is with the end of the semester. Cleaning out old ideas in favor of new ones!” You could have looked at it all day until the professor brought you back to the moment, “what can I help you with today?”

“Oh, well. In the last class of this semester, you said if we ever needed help with anything, we could come to you for help, right?” You pulled the papers out of your notebook. “And I need it. I really do—"

The soft hum of the lab door stopped your words and another student waltzed inside in a hurry.

“Professor Heimerdinger! I’m here about the funds for the library improvements. The student body wants to hand over the list of expenses to you and the council so we can get approval.”

“Oh yes! How exciting! Come! Come in!” Professor Heimerdinger skipped past you and took the stack of papers from the student. He skimmed through them and looked back at you. “I’ll be with you in a second.”

“It’s fine," you said, putting your hand up. "I can wait."

“Thank you, I was waiting for this visit– Actually, let me call my assistant." He looked up from the papers and called out. “Viktor! Could you assist me here for a minute?” He smiled at you from below. Professor Heimerdinger was your favorite by far; he was always so kind. His short stature likely contributed to the friendliness he gave off.

Wait. Is someone else in the lab?

Soft metal clinks came from the hidden part of the professor’s lab along with some footsteps. Your ears searched for the sound’s origin, but your eyes beat you to it. They landed on a tall, slender stranger with nicely combed brown hair along his angular face. The stranger seemed pretentious and intimidating with his golden cane wrapped in fine maroon leather.

Until he spoke.

“Good afternoon,” he said with a softness as he passed his cane to his other hand to greet you. Your mind looked through its catalog of faces. Had you seen him before? It wasn’t a face you could recall on the spot. Maybe you’d know if you hadn’t sequestered yourself in your studies for the past four years.

“Have you met?” The professor asked.

“I don’t think so.” You shook his hand firmly as the professor said your name to him.

Professor Heimerdinger handed him your seven equation-filled pages. “This is Viktor, my assistant. My right hand, if you will!” Viktor seemed to count the pages as the professor continued. “I’m going to have him look through your paper, if it’s alright with him. And you!”

Another student checking your homework made you feel nervous. What if he missed a crucial error? A thousand what-ifs filled your head and you pushed them out with one logical thought.

If he’s the professor’s assistant, he must know what he’s doing, right?

Between all your mental chaos, you gave a simple answer. “That’s fine by me.”

“It’s not a problem, Professor. I remember this project.” Viktor straightened the papers out, "it'll be a refresher.”

As soon as he said the word 'refresher', you noticed his three sets of diamonds on his vest. It meant only one thing.

He had already graduated.

Not an upperclassman. This is going to be so embarrassing if it’s wrong. The thought ate at you. You hoped it didn't show on your face.

“Oh goody! I’ll be done in a minute.” He hurried over to the student.

Viktor’s head tilted towards the back of the lab. "We can sit if you’d like.” A small table with four chairs near the tall windows waited for you, covered in papers like the rest of the room.

“Yeah, that works.” You followed him, still gazing at the immensity of the lab. So many books for the professor to have on hand. One could only dream.

Arriving at the table, you reached for the chair in front of you, but Viktor had placed his hand on it.

I should’ve waited for him to pick a chair first.

He pulled it out and motioned for you to sit.

Oh.

You sat and adjusted your vest. “Thank you.”

He soon followed, placing his cane on the side of the table and clearing his throat. Without another word, he started looking through it. His gaze focused on the problem at the top. He looked intimidating again with his thick brows cinched together.

Your eyes wandered through the silence. Well, almost silence. The shuffling of your project paired with the professor’s voice made your nerves skyrocket. Still, you had to sit still like nothing was wrong. Otherwise, you’d be pacing around the room with your arms crossed. You decided to break the quietness.

Be polite.

“Thanks for looking through my project." You huffed, "I’m about to graduate and I don’t want to repeat the class. Ever.”

No, seriously. That was the worst class you’d ever been through. Sleepless nights and dark eye bags were the prize every student had after taking the class. Professor Penmark was the filter for graduation. Condescending to absolutely everyone, so it wasn't personal towards you.

“It’s no problem. I graduated a year ago. I still remember this class. That teacher isn’t lenient, huh?"

“Not at all.” You chuckled, still keeping your posture rigid and proper.

His face relaxed, “I remember how the class gasped when he said that this homework–project-thing… was going to decide if you passed or not." Then his eyes widened. "Fun.” He kept flipping through the pages quite swiftly. Was he even looking through it? “Looks like he made it more complicated this year. Not impossible, but—" Viktor looked up. “How long did this take you?”

“Six hours. With breaks.”

“Hm.”

Viktor went back to the pages and looked intimidating again because your fate of passing the class was in his hands. A few short hums, or huffs, came from him. That made you worried. A hum or a huff could only mean one thing: a mistake.

Let’s say it was wrong. That meant it was back to square one. The teacher gave you three days to complete it. You were already one day down. If it took you six hours and it was wrong this first time, you had another seven tries at the most to try again. You sat there, praying to whatever would listen that your calculations had been right, with every symbol correctly switched and—

“So, what’s wrong with it?” His voice cut off your train of thought.

All you could muster up was a measly, 'what?'

“You brought it here to fix any mistakes, no?” He looked up from your papers, looking terribly confused. More confused than you, actually.

“W-wait. Is it correct? The whole thing? Are you sure?”

There’s no way.

“Well... Yes. What’s the issue?”

You didn’t know what to feel. Satisfaction, anxiousness, relief? You figured out the problem on the first try? Clear? No repeats, a clean sweep?

“No, that’s what I wanted to know, if it had no mistakes,” you took the paper when he handed it back to you. “Oh my—I can finally rest.”

There was a brief moment of silence before the professor’s voice became louder, “yes, very well! I’ll make sure to let them know! Check the corrections I gave you and come back!” He escorted the person out and came back to you both in little steps, "oh, I’m terribly sorry, you two. I was caught up in some council duties, but now that that’s out of the way, did Viktor look over your project?”

You sprung from your chair, “yes! It’s done. No mistakes.”

“It’s to be expected; you have a knack for numbers!” He looked up at Viktor. "And with a talent like this boy's, it’s inconceivable that it’s wrong!”

"It never hurts to be extra sure." Your hands kept fidgeting with your papers.

“I suggest turning it in right now! You don’t want to end up forgetting!” The professor walked to the door as you followed. Thankfully, the project was over and completely correct. Now you could finally take a small break.

Wait.

How could you forget to say goodbye?

How rude of me.

You turned on your heel and waved, "it was nice to meet you!"

He was already standing up before you called to him. For a second, he was taken aback.

Then, he replied. "Likewise."

#arcane #viktor arcane #viktor x reader #in the blue hours of the morning #IM POSTING THIS FOR MY FRIEND DJLHDFLJHDSJLF SHES BEEN WANTING ME TO POST THIS FOR LIKE. A YEAR. SORRY QUEEN ILY #I LOVE WRITING THIS FIC SO- ENJOY??? <3 #arcane x reader #arcane viktor #viktor #FIRST POST YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAALL REEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE #the glorious ovulation

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