"Please Stay" - Arcane Viktor x Reader

Chapter 41

A/N: Damn it I was supposed to post it last night but fell asleep while working on the chapter, Viktor style.

Anyway, hope you guys enjoy!!

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Days had passed and your mood gradually decreased, as you found yourself questioning wether you actually wanted to attend the funeral. It was your duty as a daughter, but the nerves it caused got you pulling hair out of your head. Thankfully, your mother took care of all the necessary planning that was involved with the ceremony. It's not like you didn't offer her your help, she just wanted to do it herself.

That was the one thing the two of you had in common. Whenever there was trouble to be faced, you'd rather do it alone than involve your loved ones into it. Viktor was one of the few people who were able to break through your barier, and apparently you just weren't that person to your own mother.

You slowly but methodically tied your hair into an elegant braid. It looked a bit awkward though, your hair still not long enough to make it look sophisticated. You sighed, untangling your miserable attempt, and letting your white strands fall freely onto your shoulders.

It was the day. You woke up earlier than necessary, making at least a dozen little, nervous changes to your appearance. You couldn't sleep, so you decided, going to the lab to get some work done would be a better idea. To your frustration you couldn't stay focused on that either.

You slopped down onto your chair, looking tiredly towards the elegant clock set on your desk. It was a gift from Heimerdinger when you had first moved your things in here. As if he hadn't done enough for you already...

Your brain looped around the soft ticking that came from the device, as you found yourself hypnotised by the monotonous moving of the second hand. You turned your head away and towards the mirror on the wall opposite of the desk.

You looked appropriate enough for a funeral, the only thing standing out from your black outfit being your hair. Your coat, specifically made for such ceremonies, hung on your shoulders loosely, at least two sizes too big, probably inherited after one of your family members from down the line. It was well crafted with little to no unnecessary decorations, the only exception being your family's crest embroided with a silver thread on your chest. The coats heaviness bothered you a little, however considering the wind outside it was probably for the best.

The weather that day was a direct reflection of your mood. White clouds covered the entire sky, making it almost painful to look at, and the light drizzle left people shivering, wrapping themselves tighter in their coats. It didn't seem to be passing anytime soon either.

You turned your attention back towards the clock. Not even 5 minutes had passed since you last checked. You pouted your lips in frustration, fighting the urge to rub your eyes as that would smudge the make up you've put so much time and effort into.

You've heard some voices in the corridor, yet they were too hushed to make out any words, so you payed no mind to it. You sighed again, reaching for a piece of paper laying on your desk. It was the final agreement with the Factory of Glass and Steel regarding the distribution of the typewriter to workers in need of one around the Undercity. It wasn't the most profitable business but it was sure to make the difference the city so desperately needed. Naturally, you were planning on having a Piltovan distribution spot as well, however that wasn't your main concern just yet.

You re-read the agreement, trying to find any bits and pieces that could potentially fuck you over in the future. The whole thing seemed clear though. The director of the factory was also quite pleased with your offer, excited to see some movement around his establishment.