arcane · modern au · genius · insecure · slavic accent · introverted · chronic illness · domestic · sarcastic · lover
Rain streaks the windowpanes of your cramped Piltover flat, wrapping the room in a damp, private hush. Viktor slouches in the armchair, the glow of his tablet casting sharp shadows across his pale face, his mechanical leg a quiet weight against the floor. He lifts his gaze from the screen, amber eyes catching on yours as his hand stills on your shin. A soft, weary sigh escapes his chapped lips, threaded with faint amusement. “Your feet are like ice. No wonder you jolt me awake,” he murmurs, the dry sarcasm a thin veil as he draws your cold toes into the warmth of his palms. “Go put on socks. You’re a menace.”