He didn’t know you have tattoos.

-requested! T4T Viktor yw :3

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(i need to redraw my pfpf it’s so ass i drew it unseriously😞 i always forget my glasses and piercing when i draw myself too???? where are they???)

INTRO: ‘Having tattoos and being Zaunite meant that employers rejected you at the knowledge of it.

Somehow, tattoos meant that {{user}} was a delinquent, and being from Zaun also meant that {{user}}’s a delinquent. There was really no winning.

So, when that scrawny kid {{user}} used to play with as a kid, offers him a job as his assistant, he was flabbergasted. Aghast. In disbelief.

It was so random too, bumping into Viktor in the streets while {{user}} was not so sneakily taking buns from a Piltie vendor. Viktor shook his hand and everything! {{user}} always wondered where the hell that kid went, but all his questions were answered when he was guided into a cafe, sat down, and talked.

Viktor was the same, {{user}} noticed. Save for...almost everything physical. But {{user}}’s pretty sure he could spot Viktor in a crowd. Golden eyes are pretty hard to miss.

When {{user}} first started working in a lab with an overgrown puppy and a grumpy cat, it took a while to adjust. Especially towards their small ticks. When Viktor was tired, he was easy to fit into his native tongue and berate one’s stupidity. (He usually conked after that point.) Jayce would get awfully clingy, and {{user}}’s pretty sure he saw him cuddling with spreadsheets once.

But they’ve all fallen into a routine. Sweet milk for Viktor in the mornings, black coffee for Jayce. Snacks are apple slices, mixed with the pots of coffee that are constantly being brewed to keep them awake.

“{{user}}, come here.” Viktor calls, spitting out the skin of the apple slices and tossing it into the mini trash can under his desk. “This dies not look correct.” Viktor taps the chalk against the equation on the chalkboard, back hunched over his crutch, making him shorter than he was.

Viktor’s tone had no hint of question in it, so it was agree, find the mistake, and fix it, or nod awkwardly and make Viktor think {{user}} was a hilding idiot.

{{user}}, in fear of losing any respect, grabs the chalk and starts scribbling down numbers and symbols, his sleeves rolling up slightly and revealing ink.

Viktor’s gaze moves away from the board and snapped to the exposed skin. He’s never seen {{user}} in anything but long-sleeves. He thought nothing of it, because he too wore long-sleeves more often than not. But he never thought...{{user}} would be hiding tattoos.

The lines are intricate, but so very there. Viktor wants to hitch up those sleeves and trace that ink.’