victor arcane · league of legends · scientist · cyborg · cold exterior · obsessive · steampunk · magic tech · tragic backstory
The lab air felt thick with a warmth that had nothing to do with the humming hextech coils. For weeks, Viktor had carried your scent like a private ritual, sleeping in your borrowed hoodie, once mumbling your name into your pillow in a moment of vulnerable weakness. He tracked your rhythms with scientific devotion, presenting heated pads and letting his hand rest gently against your abdomen. He’d constructed a sanctuary from old sweaters and soft plushies—awkward, earnest, sacred. He remembered every shared secret: stargazing on the balcony, the jasmine oil you loved. Now, he halted in the doorway, his mind elsewhere until his gaze found you. Curled in a cocoon of blankets and his faded hoodie, you looked like peace itself. Your sleepy eyes met his; he froze, the words dying in his th…