#jayce fanfic

[thehistoriangirl]

Testing One’s Love Luck to Win You Over

I... uh, this was supposed to be shorter 😅, but I didn’t know how much I missed to write for the one and only Golden Boy sooo yeah [I promise to write more about you, Jayce, *mwah* <333]

Jayce x fem!Reader-----3.1K-------SFW

Synopsis: With adulthood came different responsibilities. For Jayce, it was enrolling at the Academy and becoming a revolutionary inventor; for you, it was securing your family’s position inside the high-end of Piltover’s more influential and powerful clans. However, Jayce isn’t willing to lose you without playing all his cards.

Tags: Childhood Sweethearts| Arranged Marriage (derogatory)| Light Angst (at the beginning), mostly Fluff (the rest)| Love Confession| Eloping| Happy Ending|

Jayce had always lived two houses away from you ever since you had a memory, so when he moved to the Academic District to one of the Kiramman's ateliers, you felt a strange hole being carved in your chest as you stood on your porch, watching the carriage marked with the keys from the Kiramman family crest riding up the hill.

He promised to visit, and he did. Jayce even invited you to his new atelier, showing you his current projects, and the magnificent view he had of the whole city from his balcony.

You tried to enter the Academy—following the example of the most intelligent person you'd ever met—but of course, you couldn't get in. Your whole life had been drafted for you before you could have a rebuttal in the matter.

Just like your older sister, you've been raised to conquer the spotlight in the soirées held by clans more powerful than your own, charming any potential suitor that could raise your family influence after a marriage deal.

While Jayce spent hours researching engineering and physics in the Academy’s library, you learned different techniques of dance, how to play the piano and to walk while keeping your chin up, without looking at the ground.

Even if you thought you were drifting apart, every time Jayce knocked at your door to invite you to a walk around the fanciest district in Piltover, conversation flew naturally, as if the time had retreated, and you were still the kids that played with marbles on the soft grass in the front yard of his home. You still laughed at Jayce's silly jokes, and he still found your laugh contagious enough to end up both cackling until your bellies hurt.

In those moments, you tried to deny it, but the reality was that no matter how hard you wished, your heart wouldn't stop beating as if it wanted to escape your ribcage.

Good thing that Jayce would only see you once in a while because otherwise, he would pick your lie about how your forehead always felt like it was on fire when he patted your head because you were sick.

You felt guilty when he showed up with ointment his mom recommended to you when having a cold.

But soon enough time run thin, and he graduated and started to spend more time enclosed in the atelier. Jayce wouldn't let you come in when you showed up unannounced, preferring to eat the food you had prepared outside.

Some weeks after it, your parent broke the long-expectedly, but no less frightening, of your engagement.

By that time, you had already identified the pressing sensation residing on your chest—the same you felt when you said goodbye to Jayce every time, but not quite as overwhelming as this time. The pressure, the hollow, was just as when he left for the Academy years ago.

You nodded at your mother, smiling softly as you asked when you were about to meet your future husband. Even if the most visceral part of you wanted to scream until your jaw hurt from opening your mouth too widely, to run away up the hill and slam your fists in Jayce’s atelier.

But what he could do? Not even you were allowed to command the ways your life should develop. Jayce couldn’t help you. Nobody could.

It was funny how time seemed to pass by quicker when your family gave you a date for the wedding; contrary to when Jayce could only come back for the holidays. You were looking at his house, lonely and sad now that his mother spent her time with friends, without her son around.

Each night occurred, and the wedding got closer and closer. Insomnia lets you wander through all your thoughts—even those that you shouldn't suppose to have. If only you were born into another family, would you be happier? Would you don't mind being surrounded by luxuries in exchange for freedom? For love?

You smiled, a sour expression that curled your top lip in disgust. There was pointless to wish for things you couldn’t have.

And yet, Jayce’s image conjured in your mind as you tried to push it away, tucked in the pressure-based door at the back of your mind.

You wished you at least could have him.

*~*~*~*

The smell of the variety of flowers filling the bride's room made you want to throw up. Sunlight flooded the white room, and you felt as if you were blurring with it, becoming a piece of decoration for your almost new husband.

If you weren't on the third floor, you'd probably jump out the window.

Someone knocked at the door, and when you said, tired: “Come in.” You saw another gigantic bouquet, this one decorated with both white jasmines and red carnations. Upon seeing them, you frowned, gesturing with one hand toward the back of the room. “Let them when you can.”

The person closed the door behind him.

“Were you going to tell me you’re getting married?” His voice made you jump, and you saw his serious face from your mirror, accompanied by your widened eyes, mouth agape.

Turning so quickly you almost fell off the stool, you said, in a voice full of so many feelings you got surprised by how all of them bleed out with just one word. "Jayce?” From longing to terror, shame, and confusion. But above all, a sadness so deep your eyes started to itch with trapped tears. “What are you doing here?”

That made him pace angrily around the little space of the room that wasn’t covered with your puffy dress, gifts still unopen, and flower bouquets. His right hand pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I… I don’t know.” He sighed, collapsing over one corner of the bed. “I don’t know what to do.” He hid his face between his palms as you pinched your eyebrows with both confusion and worry.

“Jayce?” You stood up, your hand hovering over his slumped shoulders, afraid that if you touched him, you would crumble. So you only curled your fingers away, nails scrapping the palm of your hand. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want you to see me like this.”

You had wished for him to look at you all dressed in a wedding gown for him, so he could get all happy and excited while seeing you walking inside the courtroom.

He shook his head. “It’s my fault. I left and in the end, I couldn’t—" he sighed, and he sounded just as tired as your feet. "I wasn't quick enough… I couldn’t become…” Jayce looked at you, between his messy dark hair and deeply saddened eyes. For all those times you thought you’d be capable of drowning in them was just an exaggeration, today he proved you wrong. “Please don’t get married.”

You blinked, a quick sequence of blurring images of Jayce’s gaze locked in yours as your eyes got blurry with tears. “Jayce—”

His hands held your arms at each side of your body, and you saw his Academy uniform wrinkled and covered with oil stains. Even his fingers were covered in a fine black powder that stained the white arm gloves that covered his skin. As you leaned in closer, you took in the smell of paper, coffee, and burned coal. The same essence lingered inside his atelier.

“Please,” he said, voice cracking. You felt your lip quiver.

You hugged him, feeling a tug in your chest as you passed one of your hands through his hair. He leaned into your gentle touch, eyelids fluttering when he closed his eyes. The words got stuck in your throat, and so they got out in an almost inaudible whisper. "I need to get married, Jayce."

He opened his eyes, and his gaze burned into your chest, where your heart was beating madly, so loud it must be the reason why you didn’t pick up his words correctly.

“Then marry me.”

The gasp that got out of your lips felt as if someone had punched you in the chest. "What?”

His cheeks were deep red, and they felt hot when you cradled his cheek so Jayce could see you as he tried to divert his eyes away.

"You heard me," Jayce muttered, looking toward the window. Sky was already filled with orange hues that made the bedroom look as if it were almost caught on fire. "You can marry me if you want."

You blinked, but no matter how much you tried to clear your view, confusion still impregnated it. “Do you want to marry me?”

He pulled you away, so he could take in the puffy, lavishing dress you were supposed to use in the ceremony. Your hair was pulled away from your face, making your head pulse in a settled, hurtful rhythm.

“I thought once I created Hextech, I would’ve been able to ask your family if I could court you without them family denying it, but…”

Your heart throbbed painfully. Of course, they'd said no. Jayce being behind Hextech's creation was marvelous, a dream come true to any aspiring inventor. But not so for aristocratic families, for them, he was still the heir of a lower house. "Oh, Jayce…"

“I mean—I was planning on telling you; to ask if you, uh… if you reciprocate my feelings. But then your family said no and I… I didn’t know what to do. I still don’t.” He was fidgeting his fingers over his lap, too afraid of looking at you that now he was scanning every corner of the room. “Do you… do you feel the same?”

Your mind ran toward the myriad of memories you two had shared over the years, the permanent feeling of wanting. "Do you remember when we were kids? When we played house and I told you that I was your wife? I still abide by those words."

The littlest of smiles appear in the corners of Jayce's lips. "I think we should kiss now.”

You chuckled, leaning toward him, you were pulling your skirts off the way so you could fit between his legs- Your hands trembled as you cupped his cheeks, eyes fluttering closer when you brushed your lips against his. You heard him sigh, finally relieved. However, it was only a peck. “Not yet. I’m afraid we need to leave before people start to suspect why the door’s closed,” you said while biting your bottom lip.

“Yeah, you’re right.” Jayce looked at the room. It was all white, adorned with silk and lace around the bed filled with boxes of clothes and shoes. "Do you think you can get out of the window?"

“It’s three stores high, Jayce.” You looked at the bed he was sitting at. “But maybe we can improvise a rope.” Your finger pointed at the mattress.

Jayce jumped out of it and started to throw the gifts on the ground, taking the bedsheets off the mattress. "Just as when we were younger, huh?"

You smiled, dexterous hands already making knots with the fabric to use as holders. You used to escape to Jayce’s house when your parents grounded you. You had to escape from your room, which was easier once you memorize the patrols and the paths of the service toward the rooms. Then, you had to run across the street and climb up the Talis’ house front gate, to where Jayce already expected you with a rope made with his bedsheets and curtains.

Now instead of climbing, you were descending.

He knotted the rope in one of the bed’s legs. “Now, take off your dress and come down.”

You looked at him, cheeks hot, eyebrows raised in perplexion. "Wouldn't you like that?"

Jayce’s hazel eyes widened, with one of his hands covering his mouth. “Not like that! I meant—it’s for… it’s so you can move comfortably!”

Despite the stress building like a tight knot in your belly, you found yourself laughing, trying to conceal the noise between your hands. “I know, I know. Sorry.”

“You don’t sorry in the slightest.”

“You know too well. Turn around and close your eyes, I’ll change into something comfy.”

Jayce snickered. “Afraid I’ll peek?" You hit him in the shoulder and quickly knelt to find the clothes your maid pushed down the mattress while helping you dress up. "Let me know if you need any help.”

You stopped him from turning, your body came too close to him so the back of your knees brushed his pants as you turned around, showing him the back of your dress, a succession of little buttons lost between a sea of lace and silk. “Jayce, unbutton the back of my dress, please.”

You thought he’d said no, but you were running thin on time. When night fall your ceremony would arrive, and the sky was already getting dimmer.

He brushed his fingers through your spine, pulling you closer so he could see the little buttons better, causing you to feel his breath sending warm huffs in the back of your neck and around your shoulders as the fabric of the dress opened more with each turn of his wrist.

When he was done, you kept the dress in place with a firm hand pressed against your chest. You felt his hand hovering in the small of your back, irradiating warmth as you held your breath.

“I should’ve said you look beautiful before you take off the dress,” he said, and your breath got caught in a shaky huff as you let it out. “I love you, so, so much. Ever since I left for the Academy—no, even long before it.”

You chortled, only to hide how flustered you really felt. “I feel like an overly saturated chandelier.” You turned, and his smile made your heart melt. “Thank you, Jayce.”

You quickly changed into your pajamas, still white, but at least they were decorated with baby blue knitting motifs. Jayce held part of the rope as you threw the rest down the window, scanning the lateral courtyard to thankfully find it empty from both guests and the workers.

“Come down and wait for me at the entrance, in the tree near the ugly fountain. Do you know what I’m talking about?”

You looked at Jayce. “The one that looks like an egg with a hole in the middle?” He nodded as you squatted on the window sill, feet pressed under the protuberance in the rock. “Are you going to stay behind?”

“I’ll untie the rope so people can’t know how you escaped, okay?”

Your heartbeat rushed through your ears, drowning any logical thought, any fear you could start to feel as gravity pulled you down and the only thing keeping you safe was a thin silk rope.

Jayce was peeking through the window, a reassuring smile on his face all the time. You focused on it, in the feeling of his soft lips against yours and the way he leaned to your touch. In the future ahead, one when you became a Talis, leaving behind your own—or better say, the one your parents choose you to have after the wedding.

The grass felt soft, cold, and humid against your naked feet. You shivered, eyes darting toward each corner as you dashed toward the fountain, kneeling to tuck your body under it in case someone walked in this lonely path to arrive at the back courtyard, where the ceremony would take place.

From your crouched position, you couldn't see his silhouette moving in the window. The shadows became sharper, the air colder as the sun hide.

Your heart was so loud you were afraid people would hear it. You couldn’t bring yourself to think what your parents—and your ex-fiancé—would do to you, or much worse, to Jayce, if you two got caught.

Time extended too long, and dread made me feel dizzy. You were imagining all the ways Jayce was found; someone saw him get out of your room, your mother caught him descending the stairs…

“I'm here…" Jayce's voice startled you, and you hit your head on the edge of the fountain. He knelt and held you in his arms, one of his hands quickly massaging your scalp. "Are you alright, my sunshine? I'm sorry I startled you."

You tried to ignore the way his nickname made your stomach flutter. “Let’s go! The ceremony should start at any minute.”

It had always been hard to keep up with Jayce's long strides. Today was no different, you felt your legs cramped, but you ran as if you were chased after—and you had to admit, it was half-true. As you were crossing the entrance gate, you heard commotion growing from inside the house. They must have noticed you weren't there already.

Jayce squeezed your hand, fingers interlaced as you ran down the wide avenues, around the boulevards, until the streets narrowed, descending in hills. You thought he was guiding you toward the Talis family house, but no. This part of Piltover was new to you.

“Where… where are… we going?” you said between pants. Your feet hurt from running so much.

“To my new apartment. We’ll spend the night there, and tomorrow—” You had stopped, walking much calmer now that you were a couple of kilometers away from where your wedding was supposed to be held.  “Tomorrow… If you want, tomorrow we’ll get married.”

You smiled, looking at his insecure pose, with shoulders dropped and hands tucked against his belly. He was gigantic, even if he tried to shrink. You stepped over his boots, on your tiptoes to tangle your arms around his wide shoulders.

“Do you promise?” you whispered, the movement making your lips brush against his. He embraced you by the waist.

“I promise, my little sunshine,” he replied, nodding and dipping his head toward you so he could capture your lips fully, wanting to melt in your touch as much as you wanted to get lost in it.

“I love you, Jayce. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”

He quickly shifted his hold, with one hand on the small of your back, and the other embracing your thighs as he carried you, bride style, toward his apartment. Your feet wiggled in the air, your voice wavering with laughter. "What are you doing?!"

"Practicing," Jayce simply stated, walking steadily up the street. He looked at you, brushing your noses together as he paused to accommodate you, with your hands still embracing his shoulders. “Because I feel like I’m going to this quite a lot from this day onwards.”

[hypnotyzia]

The wrench (I might make more)

Summary: Viktor x Jayce, this is my first fic so that's why it's trash, but I hope you still enjoy it! Viktor and Jayce touch hands and instantly fall in love.

Warnings: NSFW, mild smut, anal sex, fingering, drunk Viktor.

1400 Words

It was a boring evening, Viktor was sitting on his office chair working on a hextech project, when Jayce walked in. 

‘’Hey Viktor. You’re still here-’’  

‘’...’’ 

Viktor didn’t answer, probably too caught up in work. Jayce kept looking at him work until Viktor turned around and froze when he saw him. 

‘’Oh, sorry Viktor, I-’’ Jayce started but Viktor interrupted him. 

‘’I didn’t notice you were here Jayce, bring me that wrench please.’’ 

Viktor turned back around and Jayce still stared at him. 

‘’Jayce.? The wrench please.’’ 

‘’Right!’’ Jayce snapped back into reality and immediately tripped over some books. 

‘’You okay?’’ Viktor asks casually as Jayce grunts. ‘’Yeah… *cough* I’m okay.’’ 

‘’Jayce. The wrench.’’ This time Viktor turns around in his chair to look at the damage Jayce has done. 

‘’Yeah I’m coming. Can’t you see I fell? I mean what is this...? Who placed books on the ground- Right... The wrench.’’ Jayce complained while stumbling over some more books. 

Viktor didn’t turn around, he waited patiently for Jayce to find the wrench, in the meantime, Viktor looked at the helpless Jayce. ‘’On the third shelf to your right Jayce....’’ 

Viktor hinted and Jayce immediately looked on the shelf. ‘’This proofs how much you spend your time here, you don’t even know where the wrench is.’’ Viktor started. 

‘’How am I supposed to find anything in this mess?.... Here it is.’’ Jayce found the wrench and gave it to Viktor. 

Viktor took the wrench, but they touched hands while doing so. 

They stood there for a minute, staring at each other, Jayce was the first to pull away. 

‘’Here is your wrench. I’ll be waiting for you at the end of the hall, be sure not to overwork yourself Viktor.’’ 

Viktor didn’t give Jayce an answer, just nodded and turned around to work on his hextech project. 

Jayce sighed and walked to the end of the hall, where he sat on a chair, waiting for Viktor. 

. __________________The next day… _________________.

Jayce just woke up from a nasty nap. He slept on the couch after a long day and his back was killing him, he decided to check if Viktor is up yet. 

‘’Viktor...?’’ Jayce said, but when he checked Viktor’s room, nobody was there. 

‘’Strange... Maybe he’s at the academy already.’’  

But when Jayce checked the Hextech workshop he wasn’t there. Jayce started panicking, he decided he would ask Professor Heimerdinger if he hadn’t seen him. 

‘’Professor?’’ Jayce called into Heimerdinger’s room and he heard small footsteps approaching. 

‘’Hello Jayce, what is the problem?’’ Heimerdinger said. 

‘’I can’t find Viktor. Did you see him today? It’s like he disappeared..’’ 

‘’That is very strange my boy... Is he not in the workshop?’’  

Jayce shaked his head. ‘’No professor, I checked his room too, and he wasn’t there either.’’ 

Heimerdinger hummed as he thought of an answer. ‘’Maybe he isn’t in Piltover. He could have visited some family in the undercity.’’ Jayce looked at Heimerdinger, eyebrow raised, clearly confused. 

‘’If you haven’t seen him where he should be, maybe he will be somewhere else Jayce.’’ 

‘’I just hope he’s okay, professor...’’ 

‘’Don’t worry, he’s probably fine. Believe in him.’’  

… 

Viktor was walking through the undercity’s dark alleyways, he noticed how the place has worsened over the years, 

 shimmer addicts, homeless people, destroyed houses and mechanic replacements for limbs, 

 when he spotted the familiar place, 

The Last Drop. It looked a bit different with an eye on the sign, he didn’t think much of it though, and went inside. 

 It was very different. Loud music blasting through the whole place, glowing lights and purple smoke, expensive drinks and people beating each other up, playing illegal poker, shimmer users, the list went on. This shocked Viktor a lot, he was staring, and everyone was staring at him. 

Everyone eventually stopped staring and did their own things. Viktor sat on the bar chair and set his cane down. 

 ‘’One shot. Thanks.’’ Viktor ordered a shot to cope with the fact that the undercity is trashed now. He then order another drink... And another... He had eight in total. He exited the Last Drop drunk, he couldn’t stand upright, even with his cane. He decided to go home.

…

Jayce was thinking if Viktor is okay. The undercity is not a good place, he knows that, what if something happened to him, what if he’s injured, what if he got killed?  

‘’No... He can take care of himself... I’m sure he’s okay.’’ He kept repeating in quiet whispers, then he fell asleep. 

…  

Meanwhile, Viktor came back and went straight into his room, drunk, making a lot of noise, he woke up Jayce. 

‘’Hey Viktor, where have you been?’’ Viktor doesn’t answer, he just starts crying and hugs Jayce firmly. 

Jayce is shocked by this, so he makes sure Viktor is okay. ‘’You okay Viktor...?’’ 

‘‘The uderccccity… It’s t-trashed… I had a loooot to drink Jayce…‘‘

Viktor hugged him more firmly, not wanting Jayce to go away from him, to have him closer…

‘‘It’s fine Viktor, you’ll get through it. Let’s get you to bed.‘‘

‘‘No.. You don’t understand.. T-the streets are full of homellesss people, and the air smells of shimmer…‘‘

‘‘Shimmer…?‘‘ Jayce raised an eyebrow. ‘‘A drugg..‘‘

‘‘Are you okay Viktor?‘‘ Viktor raised his head to look at Jayce.

‘‘No… I’m sorry Jayce… Justt put me in a bed..‘‘ Jayce didn’t want to lie, he wanted to hug him for Langer, never leave his side, but he needed him to get better. He put him into the closest room with a bed possible, Jayce’s room. Into his own room and into his own bed.

He blushed at the idea of them, sleeping in a bed together. He tucked him, then Jayce laid down next to him.

Then They both fell asleep…

. __________________The next day… _________________.

Viktor woke up next to Jayce, with a hangover. Jayce was already up, looking Viktor in the eyes, stroking his hair.

‘’J-Jayce..?’’ Viktor mumbled, and Jayce cupped his cheek.

‘’Yeah, Viktor?’’ ‘’Wha-what happened yesterday..?’’

‘’You were drunk and got home late, so I tucked you in.’’ Jayce explained, but Viktor was still confused. ‘’You okay Viktor?’’

‘’I guess... I love you Jayce.’’ That shocked Jayce, his eyes wide open.

‘’Me too Viktor.’’ Jayce’s eyes closed and so did Viktor’s,

They got closer, when they both felt their breathing on each other’s lips, it was warm, welcoming, they got closer until their mouths met and they kissed.

They hummed into each other’s mouths, until they opened, now, fighting over the territory with their tongues. Viktor moaned into Jayce’s mouth, and Jayce repeated the gesture.

They then parted lips, breathing heavily. Jayce started to unbutton Viktor’s shirt. Jayce threw the shirt onto his chair, they then kissed again, more passionately, hungrily.

Jayce took of his, and Viktor’s pants, still kissing. Viktor took Jayce’s dick in his hand and started stroking. Jayce hummed in his mouth in appreciation.

Jayce and Viktor parted lips. Jayce then turned Viktor around, Viktor gasped at the sudden movement, and Jayce inserted his finger in Viktor’s ass.

‘’Jayce... Please be gentle.’’ Viktor begged.

‘’Don’t worry, just relax...’’ Jayce then started moving his finger inside him, getting depper.

Then inserted a second one, Viktor moaned and screamed Jayce’s name, His finger hit the spots he could never reach on his own.

‘’Jayce! Too much Jayce! AAH!’’

Viktor came and Jayce praised him.

‘’Good boy Viktor. You came for me.’’ Jayce removed his fingers.

He lined up his dick with Viktor’s entrance, and slid in. Jayce gasped, and Viktor moaned, he was deep now, and Viktor loved the feeling of being filled.

Jayce started to move, slowly. He started to move at angles, when Viktor moaned, he continued to move at that angle. He went faster and then he whispered into Viktor’s ear.

‘’Look how you’re taking my dick, you’re such a good boy..’’

Viktor moaned at the sensation, Jayce was fucking him deep, and Viktor loved every second of it, he started stroking his own dick, moaning uncontrollably.

Viktor was very close, he could feel his climax approaching.

‘’Jayce. I’m going to cum!’’ Viktor screamed, and Jayce’s dick twitched, he was also very close. ‘’Jayce!’’ Viktor screamed his name when he came.

‘’Viktor...!’’ Jayce grunted and came in Viktor’s ass.

They laid there, breathing heavily, cuddling.

‘’That was...’’ Viktor started,

‘’Perfect.’’ Jayce finished. They both fell asleep not short after, their breaths steadying.

[redrum-alice]

Viktor as Pascal, Jayce as Maximus. That's it. That's the post.

Uh…??? 😭😭😭😭

[lullabyes22-blog]

tw: flashing lights

tw: glitch

Beautiful gifs made by @lipsticksandmolotovs for the wonderfully retro video for Forward but Never Forget/XOXO

Thank you so much for all your delightful gifts, Lipsticks! You are truly a treasure<333

[mistresscitrusslice]

“Our Hextech dream” this, “our Hextech dream” that. What about “our Glorious Evolution”? Where are my “Jayce willingly joins Viktor’s Glorious Evolution under no duress except his own deteriorating sanity” fics?

[somedaylazysomeday]

Good Intentions Part Twenty

The Haven gets a new donor, Silco wants a side deal.

Rating: Explicit.

Word Count: 4,900

Warnings: Ongoing references to sex as a form of payment, veiled references to organized crime, arguments, oral sex (fem!receiving), unprotected sex, creampie, and blackmail

Previous | Next | Masterlist

---

You did your best not to squint at the men on the other side of the table. Doing so would only make it look like you were suspicious of them. 

You were suspicious of them, of course, but there was no need to be obvious. 

“My apologies, gentlemen,” you said slowly. “I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, but with all of the opportunities available to you, I don’t understand why you are so interested in helping to fund the Haven.”

“It’s complicated.” Jayce Talis, the most famous Piltover inventor in recent history, rubbed at the space between his heavy brows. 

“I do own and operate a relief organization and facilitate certain healthcare treatments, including minimizing the effects of Shimmer withdrawal,” you pointed out mildly. “Maybe, if you explain it slowly, I can follow along.”

One corner of his mouth curved upward, emphasizing the fullness of his lips. He was famously handsome and infamously unavailable, but that was fine. Your tastes ran in other directions. 

His business partner - a man who was known around the Undercity only as Viktor - crossed his arms, slouching back in his seat. You tried not to judge it as a show of poor manners, especially when he straightened his leg with a wince. It was very likely Viktor just needed to adjust positions. Of course, it was equally likely that he didn’t find you very amusing. 

“Make your point, Jayce,” Viktor muttered. “We have important business to take care of at the lab.”

“Yes, the lab,” Jayce said, adding a nod in your direction. “As you may already know, HexTech is doing well. We have made several important advancements and are set to debut more over the next few years. We own the patents to everything outright, so all profits come to us. Piltover has given us a few dozen grants and investments have flooded in. We have plenty of money to pursue the further development of HexTech.” 

You nodded. It all seemed simple to understand so far.

“There is one particular area where HexTech does not excel: outreach.” Viktor interrupted with an impatient look at his now-pouting business partner. “That is why we reached out to you.” 

“Yes, but is there a particular reason you want to support the Haven rather than any other Undercity outreach?” you pressed. Maybe you were a little paranoid, but your recent experiences with Silco had convinced you that being more discerning was probably a smart move. 

Jayce sat forward slightly. “The Haven’s track record is impressive. Your expense justification reports have all shown remarkably low operating costs, your residents have started to find work with other Undercity businesses, and there’s plenty of buzz about the dent you’ve made in the Shimmer trade in your neighborhood.” 

The blood roared in your ears at that. “That’s an overstatement, of course. Drug use waxes and wanes in neighborhoods over time. It’s just coincidence that Shimmer use decreased when the Haven opened.” 

Jayce furrowed his brows, but Viktor looked like you had finally said something interesting. “I assume that is the line one must repeat vehemently if one wants to avoid the attention of the chem barons.” 

“Chem barons?” Jayce repeated, now frowning harder. “They’re a local legend, a convenient shadow government that the people can blame their problems on.”

“Of course,” you agreed. 

Viktor looked darkly amused. “Nothing more than a legend, certainly.” 

“Yeah…” Jayce said slowly, glancing between you and Viktor. “Anyway, we’ve heard about the decreased drug use and we want to support that as much as possible. You and the Haven seem like the best choice to make that happen.”

“How is your security?” Viktor asked abruptly. 

“We have a small team of guards for the exterior of the building,” you said honestly. It probably wouldn’t help anything if you told them exactly who was paying for that small team of guards. “There is almost no Enforcer presence in the Lanes, so we can’t count on a patrol happening at a crucial time.” 

“I can pull a few strings,” Jayce assured you, totally confident. “I have some connections with the Enforcers. Piltover wants to support new development, especially when it isn’t tied to the drug trade. And they’re not going to find anything better than an anti-Shimmer organization with a proven track record.” 

You nodded in acknowledgement of his point, but looked to Viktor. “And you? Do you also think the Haven is a good match for HexTech’s goals?”

Viktor lifted one shoulder in a halfhearted shrug. “I fail to see what impact your outreach could possibly have on the Undercity. The politics are snarled, the people are desperate, and there is too much money to be made from exploitation.” 

That was a harsh assessment, but it was true. Jayce cleared his throat uncomfortably, but Viktor spoke again before the better-mannered of the pair could offer any reassurances. “That being said, I am… reluctantly impressed by what I have heard of your meetings with Silco. There are few willing to argue with him.” 

You stiffened slightly at Viktor’s mention of Silco. Up to that point, you had both pointedly avoided using his name, as evidenced by the way Jayce was glancing between the two of you. 

“I don’t understand,” Jayce admitted. “Who is Silco?” 

“You will find out,” Viktor said, the statement sounding both threatening and utterly inevitable as he stood. “I must return to the lab. Jayce, I agree with whatever choice you make.” 

You watched as Viktor leaned heavily on the cane and left the building. It was situated at the edge of Piltover, just across the bridge from the Undercity. Jayce had assured you multiple times that, if they were not working on time-sensitive experiments at HexTech, they would have been more than willing to meet you in the Undercity. He may have even been telling the truth. 

Jayce was still half-smiling when he looked back at you. “Who is Silco?” 

You got the impression that he would keep pushing until he got an answer, so you chose your words carefully. “He is a… major player in the Undercity. He wants- well, he says he’s working for the good of the people. That’s up for debate.” 

“But what does he do?” Jayce pressed. 

“He’s an industrialist.” You sat very straight on the edge of your chair - not quite standing, but giving the impression that you were ready to leave. “Speaking of helping the Undercity, I need to get back to the Haven. When you’ve made a decision about your outreach, please let me know.” 

“Easy enough,” Jayce said, standing to offer a hand over the table. “HexTech would like to provide funding for the Haven, to be used in whatever way you think is appropriate.” 

You were giddy with excitement, and it rushed through your veins like adrenaline. Somehow, you managed to keep a straight face long enough to thank Jayce and accept the check he filled out for the Haven. It was generous, which made your heart soar. You would be able to help so many people!

The good news put a spring in your step and you were still bouncing as you climbed the stairs to Silco’s office. Thankfully, no one was around so early in the day - you had serious doubts about your ability to look cranky and irritated right then, but you would have been obliged to put on a performance if there were onlookers. 

“You seem cheerful,” Silco noted as you closed the door behind yourself. 

“So far, so good,” you told him, walking over to his desk. “What’s the plan for today?” 

He ignored your question. “Productive morning, I take it?” 

“Very.” 

You peered out through the window. The Last Drop was just barely tall enough for you to catch glimpses of the building projects happening over near the Haven. The mechanic’s shop was well on its way to being completed, the construction crews had broken ground on the second apartment building, and the grocers were taking over an existing building, so they were already in the process of hiring staff. 

As you leaned back, you caught sight of a familiar handprint on the glass and your lower belly tightened with the reminder of how it had gotten there. 

“And how much will HexTech be allotting you?” 

With the casually conversational way Silco asked his question, you didn’t immediately notice that anything was wrong. Your attention was split between the handprint on the window and the ever-increasing needs of your body. At last, awareness filtered through and you froze. 

‘I-” You cleared your throat, giving your best innocent expression as you turned to look at him. “What do you mean?” 

Silco gave an impatient gesture. “Come, pet, we have already discussed that I know all that happens in Zaun.” 

“Nothing happened in Zaun,” you said blandly. 

His answering look was dry. “But a potential alliance between the Haven and HexTech undeniably concerns Zaun and her future. Do me the courtesy of assuming I know of your meeting with the two inventors behind HexTech.”

“Fine,” you agreed, largely because he gave no indication of moving on. “I met with the owners of HexTech.” 

“Thank you,” Silco said, gaze drifting to the window. “And how much has young Talis decided to give the Haven?” 

You paused, uncomfortable with the idea that you needed to place a boundary. You and Silco shouldn’t be close enough to need things like boundaries - the clear divisions between you should have been so obvious as to be implied. “I’m not sharing that information with you.” 

“Why not?” he asked. “If I know the size of their donation, I can exceed it.” 

“I don’t need any more donations at the moment,” you told him. 

Silco’s brows unfurrowed. “Ah, that much? Congratulations. You may rest secure in the knowledge that the sale of your morals has fetched so high a price.” 

You recoiled at the slight before you could stop yourself. A drug lord was going to lecture you about morals? That bothered you. Surely that was the cause of your discomfort. Any other reason would imply that Silco was important enough to you that his opinion mattered. 

“I didn’t have to sacrifice my morals to accept their donation, unlike others the Haven has received in the past,” you told him icily. 

Silco stood abruptly, his chair lurching back with the movement. You held your ground, though it took more effort than you were comfortable with. “My donations served your residents just as well as the ones from HexTech will, and at far more dire a time. Do not act as though I were not there to support you every time you have needed me.” 

You gaped at that. “Because we’re in a deal! Every donation served you just as well as it did me - it increased your leverage over me and the Haven. Convenient, since you need me around for an easy source of sex.” 

He scoffed, looming over you. “Do you truly believe that there are not others who throw themselves at my feet? I receive more offers of easy sex than you would believe possible.” 

“Then why keep me around?” you pressed. 

“Because you are the only one who offers the slightest hint of a challenge!” he snapped, breathing heavily. You had stepped into him rather than away, and he was already so close that your chest and his were nearly touching. You glared at each other from inches away before one or both of you closed the gap separating you.

His mouth was hard and unyielding against yours, disinterested in any hint of refusal. Fortunately, refusing his kiss was the last thing on your mind. The energy of securing the HexTech donation was still crackling through you, and sex was a wonderful outlet. The slight tinge of irritation accompanying it only served to increase the appeal. 

You met him with lips that were already slightly parted, and your tongues were dueling in a moment. Kissing Silco wasn’t entirely unfamiliar to you, but it was still rare enough that you considered it a novel experience. 

Your toes were curling at the slow luxury of his mouth on yours. Silco was rarely in a hurry, even now, when you were apparently taking a break in the middle of a fight. Your interest was only piqued further when he started removing your clothing with rough movements. When he had finished, he pushed you backward as you gasped with shock.

Fortunately, Silco had thought far enough ahead to position you close to his desk. The sensation of your bare ass on the cold surface of the desk was jarring, but you watched Silco eagerly. You were more than willing to brave the temperature difference in order to watch him undress for you. 

To your surprise, Silco lowered himself, fully-dressed, into his throne-like chair. You eyed him, frowning as he took your ankles in his hands. They were placed to either side of his chair, leaving them supported by the arm rests at his sides. It went without saying that your knees were forced open by the position, leaving your core exposed to the air… and to Silco’s gaze.

That mismatched stare was fixed between your legs, studying the most private parts of you as you tried not to squirm. When he reached out to touch your cunt, you felt his fingertips like electric shocks… but he only parted your folds and continued his silent observation. 

Irritation, embarrassment, and need swirled together in you until the pressure pushed words from your mouth. “Silco. What are you doing?” 

“Studying my favorite acquisition,” he replied distantly. Even lost in your own distraction, you could feel the echo of your first time together, in this very situation in this very office, when Silco had said something similar. “And wondering how my pet can be so very unyielding, yet yield so delightfully in other areas.” 

You frowned at him - not that Silco was looking at your face. “Whatever answers you’re looking for, you aren’t going to find them down there.” 

That made him glance upward, a small smile playing around the corner of his mouth. “Perhaps it would be best if you lay back.” 

You complied, though not without rolling your eyes. “If we’re having a repeat of our first session, I hope the sex is more satisfactor- Oh!” 

Without any sort of warning, Silco’s mouth had closed around your clit. You half-lifted back off the surface of his desk, staring down at his face between your legs. You could only hope that your expression was less desperate than you felt, but wicked pleasure filled Silco’s gray-green eye, so you didn’t think that was accurate.

And then he set about making you forget all about expressions and irritations. Silco buried himself between your thighs, teasing you with fingers and lips and tongue and teeth. He nibbled, he stroked, he thrust… He used every hint of weakness he had gathered from you over your time together, recalling every sensation that drove you wild and subjecting you to all of them at once.  

You arched up off the desk so sharply that the muscles in your back and abdomen protested. Your knees tried to close around Silco - either to keep him close or to force him away from you, you weren’t sure which - but his shoulders kept you spread open and subjected to his torment. 

By the time he had pressed three fingers deep inside of you, your body was glistening with sweat. You were panting, your hips trying to both ride him and grind closer to the lips that were wrapped around your clit.

Silco always ate you like he was trying to ruin you for anyone else, but this was more intense than anything you had experienced with him before. You didn’t remember when you had sank your hands into his hair, but it didn’t matter. You were using him only as an anchor; he never moved far enough away for you to need to pull him back. 

At last, he removed himself from you, pulling away almost entirely. The only parts of his body that was touching you were his shoulders, still holding you spread open for him. 

“Silco?” you asked, an edge of desperation clear in your voice. 

“Shh, pet,” he soothed. “I am trying to decide whether you deserve the reward of coming on my tongue.” 

You whined, lifting your hips as if you could convince him to come back. 

“I am less than thrilled by your association with the Piltover business,” Silco admitted slowly. Torturously slowly. “Yet I suppose you may have earned a treat for coming to meet with me anyway. Is that correct?”

You nodded. 

Silco leaned slightly closer. “You would not break our deal over a single donation from another business, would you?” 

You shook your head. 

Silco came even closer then - still not touching you, but near enough that you could feel every exhale on your damp folds. “Does our deal still stand, pet?” 

You nodded, but Silco shook his head. “I need to hear it in that lovely voice. Tell me, darling: does our deal still stand?”  

“Y-yes,” you stammered, the dryness in your throat making it difficult to speak. “Yes!”

“Ahh…” he mused. “How long will it stand?” 

He watched you with a gaze so sharp you understood instinctively that he would only accept a spoken answer. This one was more challenging; he hadn’t told you what he wanted you to say and thinking was difficult when your brain was soaked in hormones and arousal. 

“Until- ah!” Silco had darted a long lick up your folds - not touching anything firmly enough to throw you over the edge, but still startling. And distracting. “As long as I’m in the Undercity.” 

“Our deal will stand as long as you are in the Undercity,” Silco repeated. You nodded and he looked thoughtful. “I suppose I must offer sufficient incentive for you to stay, then.” 

As if the shock of it removed you from the situation, you noted it dispassionately as he parted you a little more, nestled his nose against your clit, and thrust his stiffened tongue up inside of your heat. 

And then the moment of observation passed. You were thrown back into your body just in time for it to go through an earth-shattering orgasm. Your body arced up off the desk again, muscles spasming so hard that you had the vague sense of Silco holding your hips against the surface so you didn’t throw yourself onto the floor. 

But that was a dim knowledge, far in the background of your thoughts - the vast majority of your brain was caught in a stranglehold of pleasure. How could you be expected to lay still when every bit of you was crackling with such intense energy? You had to move. It was not possible to do anything else. 

At last, Silco removed the live current that was his mouth against your core. He had to struggle against the grip you had on his hair. You weren’t really trying to keep him in place, but your muscles had locked down in the aftermath of your orgasm. 

“How do you feel?” he asked conversationally, when he had freed himself from your grip, losing a few strands of hair in the process. 

“Nnn umm…” Nope, those weren’t words. You tried again. “Needum mint.” 

“Take your time,” Silco invited, relaxing back into his chair. He licked his lips, cleaning the shine of you from them with his tongue. Watching the process made your uncomfortably sensitive body tighten, but you couldn’t tear your gaze away. When he had licked everything he could reach, Silco retrieved a handkerchief and wiped his mouth, chin, and cheeks. 

If you were capable of higher thought at the moment, you might have been embarrassed by how much of a mess you had made on Silco’s face. Fortunately, the brain fog was still too dense, and you just watched him vacantly. 

Rather than rush you into another round, Silco snagged a piece of paper from beside your hip. He lifted it and started to read. From the light that filtered through it from the window behind him, you could see that there were schematics of some kind drawn on the page. They were highly detailed, but something about the writing looked young, like it had been done by someone without fully developed fine motor function. 

And then Silco’s fingers wrapped around your ankle and you stopped thinking about anything else. Especially when those fingers began to play idly against your skin, tapping an unfamiliar rhythm on your anklebone. 

“How much more reading do you need to do?” you gritted out at last. 

Silco glanced up at you instantly, eyebrows raised. “I can stop at any time, pet. I was under the impression that you needed a moment to recover.”

“I have recovered.”

“Why did you not tell me immediately?” Silco asked. 

Despite the censurious words, he lazily tucked the schematics into a desk drawer before he stood. In a moment, he had opened the front of his trousers, pushed aside the layers of fabric, and lined himself up with you. 

There was something almost sweet about the fact that Silco was so hard. He had brought you pleasure without being touched in return, and yet his erection hadn’t flagged while he sat quietly reading for minutes. For all that he was a selfish, manipulative bastard, Silco was surprisingly impacted by the way he affected you. 

Any hints of altruism were shoved aside as Silco plunged inside of you. Rather than hesitating or asking if you were ready, he surged powerfully forward until he was seated as deep inside you as he could be. Your hips shifted to accommodate him and your legs trembled against the arms of his chair as you struggled to surface against the pressure of him stretching your walls. 

Silco’s hands were tight on you. One was wrapped around your hips, providing an anchor point as he began to thrust in and out of you. His other hand was firmly on your ass, half-lifting and half-squeezing as he rolled his hips against you. 

That rolling motion made your lips part for air as you stared up at the ceiling. Silco was big enough to fill you, but something about that motion put pressure against your walls in a way that felt almost cyclical. It was like he was fucking a little circle inside of you every time he pushed in, which meant that you got intermittent pressure against your g-spot. It was magical. 

You tried to lift against him, to counter-thrust and speed things up, but Silco wasn’t having it. His grip was firm enough to hold you utterly still, making sure that all you could do was experience the way he was taking you apart for a second time. 

“Silco, please,” you gasped out. “Faster. Harder. Please.” 

“No,” he denied simply. Silco’s hand momentarily released your hip to grab your wrist instead. He tugged it downward until your fingers were brushing the throbbing place between your legs. “If you want your pleasure, you’ll have to take it.” 

You were tempted to deny him and yourself, if only to prove that he wasn’t in charge of you, but the slight graze of your fingertip over your own clit made you squirm. But if you were going to be responsible for your own orgasm, you were damn well going to make sure that Silco helped.

With some effort, you lifted your legs from where they were still resting on the armrests of Silco’s chair. It took only a moment to wrap them around his waist, and when you tightened them, the pull was strong enough to force Silco forward against you. 

When he had bottomed out inside of you, Silco’s grip shifted upward, pressing against the surface of the desk on either side of your hips to support the shift in his center of balance. His eyes widened, startled as you kept him close. You used your newfound freedom to thrust your hips, moving him and out of your core as you strummed at your clit. 

The resulting sensations were enough to take you sailing over the edge again. This orgasm was less abrupt than the last one, but almost more satisfying because your inner muscles had something to lock down around. 

Dimly, you registered that Silco was trying to withdraw from you, but couldn’t escape the grip of your leg muscles. You only understood his reasoning when his body stiffened, face tightening and growing slack as he reached his own peak. 

Silco’s orgasms tended to be subtler than yours, but even his legendary poker face failed him. His expression tightened, then went slack as his body spasmed in a series of explosive surges. He hissed out a curse that sounded like half a prayer, his lips continuing to move long after he had stopped speaking loud enough for you to hear it. 

Slowly, you let the tension seep from your leg muscles. When your feet were dangling toward the floor once more, Silco eased himself out of you. The first spill of your combined mess seeped directly onto the surface of Silco’s desk, but he cleaned it up and caught the next with the same cloth he had used to wipe his face earlier. 

When Silco was seated in his chair once more, you took the cloth and held it in place as you slid down from the desk. Silco smiled wryly. “I never intend to make such a mess, but you are irresistible. Especially when you’ve wrapped me in those lovely legs. If I must be trapped, I will say that I prefer to be trapped in your embrace.” 

“Flatterer,” you accused gently. 

“It is a lovely benefit when the truth is flattering,” he replied, giving you a look you didn’t quite understand… until he added, “Now, pet, tell me how much I should write for the amount of my next donation check.”

You turned toward him with an irritated huff. “Are you still talking about this? I don’t need an extra donation from you, especially not when your motivation is simply to outdo someone you consider a threat.” 

Silco’s lip curled. “I hardly consider those two boys to be a threat.” 

“Then what is your problem with them supporting the Haven?” 

“I dislike the idea of Piltover gaining a foothold here in Zaun,” Silco explained after a moment of thought. “Even if their influence is only over a small outreach. It could hinder the growth of Zaun’s independence.” 

You bit back the irritation that rose at the Haven being referred to as a small outreach. It was a small outreach, of course, but it was so important in your life. It hurt to be reminded that your work was considered minor to other people. 

“Fine,” you said instead of telling him any of that. “What are our options? I’m not telling you how much they donated.”

“Very well,” Silco said tightly. By all appearances, he was displeased with your insistence, but something about the look in his mismatched gaze gave you the distinct impression that he was getting something he had been angling for all day. “If you will not allow me to match HexTech’s donation amount, I would be willing to overlook their involvement in the Haven…” 

“And what will it cost me?”

“I want to be part of the Undercity Innovation Committee.”

It took a beat for you to remember what that was. “Jazper’s group? No. Absolutely not.” 

Silco watched you in silence. His brow creased and it was like watching a far-away storm building into something catastrophic. 

“I have no control over that,” you expanded. “I can’t risk everything I’ve built - I can’t risk the Haven - to argue for you being part of the meetings.” 

“And I would never ask you to,” Silco assured you smoothly. “I have other resources at play. All I need from you is not to argue against me being on the committee.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “So you don’t need me to fight for you? Just don’t tell them not to let you join?” 

“Yes.” 

It seemed simple. Almost too simple. And yet… it had been a long day. You could use some simplicity. “Fine, I agree to those terms. If someone else brings up the possibility of letting you join the committee, I won’t argue against it.” 

“Perfect.” Silco took the end of your conversation as an opportunity to refasten his clothing, so you started to get dressed as well. 

By the time you had finished, Silco was holding out a slip of paper toward you. You looked from it to his face, unwilling to accept an unknown item from him. He continued to offer it anyway.

“If I understand, your objections were not to me making a donation, but to me trying to make a larger donation than HexTech,” Silco explained. “I do not know how much they donated, but here is my offer.” 

“Silco…” you lamented, arms still folded across your chest. 

He lifted a brow. “If you prefer, I could resume trying to discover the HexTech donation amount…” 

You sighed loudly so there could be no mistaking your irritation as you snatched the check from his hand. You didn’t look at the amount, but the way Silco grinned as you shoved it into your pocket didn’t seem promising.

---

Author's Note - Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed. I'll see you next month with another update!

Quick reminder: this story does take a lot of time and effort to write, edit, and format every month. At this point, we're up to roughly a 200-page book. I appreciate the likes that you guys give me, but reblogging my work is the only way new people can find it. I would really appreciate it if you would reblog not only my fics, but any fics you enjoy!

[sandraharissa]

To me the core theme of arcane is this specific type of conflict that repeats over and over again in all the main aspects of the story that centers around 'sibling relationships'.

Starting with the two cities. We have Piltover and the bad side of Piltover. Technically they're supposed to be one and the same but one is the 'golden privileged child' while the other is disadvantaged and needs to rely on the rich side of Piltover for support, they can't do it by themselves. And then the rich side of Piltover fails in its duties of taking care of/protecting/supporting/whatever the poorer side and a split happens. Zaun is created and it becomes so dangerous and volatile, it becomes a menace and an active threat to itself/the outside and there's no going back. It's the monster Piltover created and even tho the Undercity suffered unfairly at this point it has become so monstrous there may be no improvement/redemption for it.

And obvs that's the exact same thing that happens with Vander/Silco and Vi/Jinx. However it's also imo completely applicable to Jayce/Viktor and even Heimer/Singed. Jayce and Viktor will only reach their break-up era in future seasons but it's a given this will happen but I know I obvs need to explain the Heimer/Singed example.

Based on what we know about them Heimer is just naturally immortal/long-living, how lucky for him, and completely lacks any ability to relate to beings who from his perspective live short life-spans. Meanwhile Singed is just a human and on top of that he had a 10yo child who died from some kind of disease(maybe?). Currently he is obsessed with discovering immortality: experimenting on ppl, mutating them, resurrecting corpses etc. possibly in an attempt to find a way to heal/resurrect his daughter. And we know him and Heimer were partners and that Heimer didn't help him and threw him out of the university or smth for his research. So the exact same dynamic as the other pairs.

So notice how we've got the cities, and then each city has its storyline, and each storyline has a pair of protags who reflect the conflict between the cities, and then each pair also has the pair that preceded them which also reflects the same conflict. In Zaun all these connections are about family ties: brothers, sisters, fathers/daughters, with inherited political/social roles like the Piltover sympathizer and criminal/revolutionary. Meanwhile Piltover storyline connections are about 'progress': science buddies, mentors and students, with Jayce succeeding Heimer as the barely-scientist-moreso-a-politician and Singed/Viktor being mad scientists. We've even got zaunite 'older siblings' associating with Piltover and piltovan 'younger siblings' being from/associating with Zaun.

Just really nice parallels all around.

But I actually have an honorable mention to add here at the end lol.

Mylo and Claggor. Obvs they don't quite fit cos they never develop into this kinda dynamic and they were never meant to but I can't help but notice the similarities. Claggor being the pure hearted hero archetype, looking like Vander, naturally good fighter, seemingly lacking insecurities, seems like the 'second in command' after Vi (second best with the fighting machine, Vander speaks to him second to get info about what happened), meanwhile Mylo giving off 3rd child vibes, full of insecurities and needing to prove himself, physically looks like a stick bug, a bit of a bully, "weird" lock-picking talents that he struggles with and isn't respected for (like Singed/Viktor's science, Powder's bombs or Silco's dream) that are actually super useful and impressive (like he could have been robbing millions from Piltover banks if he got adopted by Silco instead lol).

[valaruakars]

We Have Chemistry (Together)

A bonus chapter/prequel oneshot for Let's Get Physical

Gen || Jayce & Viktor || 3.7k || Modern/College AU || Ao3 Link Tags: Baby frat boy Jayce, developing friendships, misunderstandings, emotional hurt/comfort (shitty), hazing, underage drinking (for us USAmericans), alternating POV, no Beef!Reader today sorry babes

Help is high on the list of what people typically want from Viktor. Usually in class. Sometimes in the elevator beforehand or in the hallway after, or following a light tap on the shoulder in the library. All academic help, strictly speaking. But this wasn't about their lab report.

Sweaty palms, shaky hands—he’s got one shot at this. One phone call. He knows the landline and his mom’s cell by heart, but he can’t call her. Can’t let her see him like this. Can’t think of who the hell else to call—who even memorizes phone numbers anymore?—so maybe he’d better get comfortable with sleeping upright and a permanent wedgie. There are worse things, like the disappointed purse of her lips; the way she sighs and bows her head and makes him wonder if it’s his fault her hair’s already shot through with gray.

Except.

Area code, same as the rest. Dorm number. Cait’s birthday.

He types it out. It looks as familiar on the screen now as the first time he saw that string of numbers, when the coincidences jumped out at him as the patterns in numbers always do. Enough to make an impression, apparently. Just like the person it belongs to.

Who, in all likelihood, won’t be thrilled about this.

But he decides then and there that he’s just desperate enough for normal underwear and his too-firm twin XL bed—and, fuck, there’s a quiz in materials performance first thing in the morning so he really needs the sleep—to hit call.

It rings three times. He feels a hot surge of nausea two in, the rising urge to puke into his purple foam hat. It’s bitter in his throat like those IPAs he didn’t want to drink in the first place, but he’s never been great with peer pressure.

And on the fourth, above the rustling:

“Hello?”

He sounds annoyed.

He usually sounds annoyed, but sometimes Jayce wonders if it’s all in his head, because Viktor’s voice softens when he explains the equations to the girl that sits next to him and snaps her gum too loud and misses every other class. He’s heard it gently ask the professor for a letter of recommendation in the hall after lecture, and lilt into the phone—in what? Russian?—on the bench outside before it. It’s only when Viktor’s talking to him, which is already rare, does it get quick and terse.

But maybe he hears it wrong half the time because there’s part of him that’s been intimidated since day one. That first day of class, when he’d taken the last seat at the front and stuck his hand out to the guy beside him. He was nervous. It felt like the right thing to do. But those egg-yolk eyes had ticked curtly from Jayce’s hand to the professor he’d just introduced himself to, with a detour to his crooked pink bow tie. Maybe it was a little much with the blazer and ironed slacks in sweltering August. And in hindsight, yeah, maybe shaking the professor’s hand and explaining how this class fit into his three year plan was definitely too much, but Jesus fucking Christ *was it also too much to just come out and call him egotistical *for it.

Without even shaking his hand! Who does that?

Really, he’s just trying to make this feel like a good idea. It’s not.

It’s also too late to back out. “Hey—Hi, yeah, it’s Jayce… Your lab partner. From chemistry?” He’s already started running his mouth.

“Ah. I realize.”

He wrings the hat in his lap. The iron-on stars are starting to peel off. Glitter flakes cling in the creases of his wet palms. It’s delusional, isn’t it, to imagine that Viktor doesn’t hate him.

Only with a deep breath can he get himself to say, “I know it’s late…”

“It is.”

“But I really need your help.”

—

Help is high on the list of what people typically want from Viktor.

It’s what he’s good for—all those questions along the lines of, ‘Did you do the homework?’ which means, ‘Can I copy it?’ (No.) Or, ‘Do you know what he’s talking about?’ which means, ‘Can you explain it like I’m five?’ (Yes, but try to keep up.) *Sometimes it’s, *‘Have you taken any of Heimer’s classes?’ which either means, ‘Can you give me the study guides?’ (There aren’t any.) or ‘Can you tutor me, but we somehow hook up and never speak of it again?’ (Depends.)

That’s usually in class. Sometimes in the elevator beforehand, or in the hallway after, or following a light tap on the shoulder in the library. All academic help, strictly speaking.

But this wasn’t about their lab report.

If anything, it should’ve been about their lab report. Because what else could Jayce Talis—who moved seats after the first day of class and made a face like a whipped animal when they were partnered for lab work last week, who pledged a fraternity (abhorrent) and has his pick of pretty friends—possibly want from him?

It feels as though he blinks and thirty five minutes of his life have just dissolved* since he hung up the call, so lost in theoreticals of *why *and *me that curiosity itself must’ve found his pants and his wallet and led him here by the hand. Rumpled, but fully clothed. This is novel and extremely necessary considering he’s standing in a squat, brutalist building at the front desk of campus security.

All because Jayce asked, ‘Can you come pick me up?’

And Viktor simply agreed.

There’s no bail, no paperwork, no real formality here. The only requirement to walk Jayce out is to be over the age of eighteen, and he clears that easily enough. The state ID he hands though the sliding glass window of reception says as much, but he still has to remind the campus cop who flips it over three times like there’s something confusing about it that it’s just as legitimate as a driver’s license, thank you.

“Time to go, Talis,” the man bellows, snapping Viktor’s ID onto the counter with thick fingers and no further acknowledgement. As he pockets it, a metal chair scrapes across the linoleum somewhere out of frame, behind a door with a decades old pin-punch lock.

“You’re a lucky one, kid,” the officer chuckles, deep and phlegmy with the sound of black lung. “If I hadn’t laughed so hard you’d be at county intake right now.”

“Do I… Um, do I need to sign something?” Jayce asks. His voice is world-weary more than ass-kissing.

“You want this on record?”

“No, sir.”

“Then there’s the exit.”

By that point, Viktor’s already tapping his way to it. Jayce will follow, and with his long legged stride, he will catch up easily. Probably to thank him with that performative politeness that drives him to say ma’am or sir *or to *shake the hands of strangers, and then they’ll go their separate ways after has Viktor served his purpose. Like whatever this was never happened.

Behind him, a hydraulic arm shrieks, the intake door claps shut, and Jayce whispers an apology to no one for rattling the lobby’s musty silence as Viktor pushes outside. The tepid night air rushing against his face, and because he’s not rude, he holds the door open for Jayce.

But Viktor gets stuck. Or maybe stunned. Perhaps it’s flummoxed, or even transfixed. There’s no one perfect word to describe why he’s stopped, blocking the door and staring, which is rude, but happens to him with enough regularity that he’s owed a pass or five, and he’s using one now.

He blinks.

Blinks again.

Once more, and yes, Jayce is still standing in the doorway clutching a cheap wizard hat in his hand and a child sized blanket around his body. It strains around the bulk of his arms, stretching, cracking the gold vinyl stars. It matches the purple beneath his eyes, complements the tawny red his face is turning, and does not, in fact, reach low enough to cover his too small speedo.

Or the knee high boots.

A cape, Viktor realizes. Not that he’s just eyed Jayce from top to bottom with enough scrutiny to notice that he’s unnaturally hairless and his thighs are ribbed with stretch marks, or that his own face is set in a hard frown like this is all somehow unsavory. (It’s… not. Definitely not.) No, Viktor simply notices that the starry patterned blanket has a collar, which makes it a cape.

And despite this revelation, the fact that Jayce is mostly naked remains unchanged.

‘Why’ is on the tip of his tongue. It usually is; its natural habitat is in his mouth. But Jayce’s eyes flit from Viktor’s down to his pointy toed boots, then back up again, and he preemptively explains, bitterly, “Nothing in the lost and found fit.” Which actually explains nothing.

Viktor nods as though he understands (he doesn’t), and forces himself to just start walking.

Jayce tails him down the sidewalk in uncomfortable silence. It’s when they pass the parking lot that Jayce picks up the pace, falling into stride side by side. The pieces fall into place too—late night, terrible costume, and now, the acerbic smell of stale beer wafting off him. Frat party.

It’s worse on Jayce’s breath. “So…” A tight, tried sort of impatience undercuts his attempt to sound casual. It’s familiar. Understandable, too, after sitting through a scared straight experience on a weeknight. “Where’d you park?” Jayce asks.

Lack of a car notwithstanding, the implication he’d ever be swindled out of eight hundred dollars a semester to park on campus is a joke. Not a laughable one. “I took the bus,” he flatly answers.

“Oh.”

For a moment, Viktor can ignore the palpable disappointment—that he is disappointing. He can even empathize with the situation. Riding public transit dressed like that isn’t exactly ideal. But then Jayce asks, “They run this late?”

“The city ones do.”

And then Jayce says, “It’s just… I don’t have any money.”

“They’re free to students.”

And then Jayce mutters, “Uh, cool. Good to know,” because he doesn’t have to know, has never had to know. And suddenly Viktor doesn’t feel so bad for him anymore, that he gets to learn tonight that need-based scholarships don’t buy cars or taxis, and that sometimes it’s slightly inconvenient when you fuck up. Perhaps that should be more obvious to someone who just lucked out with a slap on the wrist for flagrant underage drinking.

Except they stop and Jayce takes one look at the bus stop bench; notices—what is hopefully just—dried, congealed soda spilled across one side. He asks, “Do you want to sit?” because he’s ignorant, yes, but not the worst to ever live.

Viktor says, “No, thank you,” knowing what Jayce doesn’t: the bus schedule, and that up and down in short order won’t feel particularly good.

When it grinds to a halt at the curb two minutes later, Jayce pulls his student ID out of his boot and soldiers onboard with his head down. He collapses full bodied onto the seats running parallel down the center aisle the same way he'd collapsed on the bench outside: hunched over with his face in his hands. Luckily, people are sparse at this hour, and there is nobody sitting across from them. Unluckily, someone in the back laughs openly.

With so much space, Viktor leaves an open seat between them. It feels right. But in the awful fluorescence before the lights wink out, Jayce’s skin looks waxy and his shoulders rise and fall with the deep, intentional breaths, and Viktor is struck by how alone he is—how strange it is that he’s alone in this. Where are the drunk friends that should’ve been picked up with him, or the cavalry that should’ve pulled up in a dirty Jeep with Greek letters on the bumper to save him?

He sits up as the dark bus drives on, soberly tucking his cape and forearms over his stomach, and Viktor snatches his eyes away. It doesn’t add up—not really. Jayce* does not particularly like him*, and Jayce has other friends.

He should probably ask which dorm is Jayce’s or if he knows what stop to get off at, but he knows the right question now. “May I ask—?” Viktor tries.

Only to be shot down with a clipped, “No,” which is strange to be on the other side of, but he’ll learn nothing from it.

Viktor nods and sits back quietly, the plexiglass window cool against his skull. The vibrations ghost shifting patterns behind his eyes. The silence is filled with the rumble of the engine accelerating, and the time with drafting a polite, impersonal email in his head to request they not be partnered together in the future.

At the next stop, two people get off, and when the bus drives on the silence is different. It lacks the subtle undertone of whispers and snickering, of other passengers entirely. Viktor opens his eyes to find there’s no one else left but the driver with her headphones in.

“Okay, fine,” Jayce suddenly sighs, like he’s been holding his breath the whole time. “Ask.”

They don’t look at each other. Viktor watches the traffic light ahead tick to green out of the corner of his eye. “Why did you call me?”

Jayce leans back and groans, pained, into his hands. “No, about the outfit. You’re supposed to ask about the outfit, or the night, or how I got caught.” He pulls the tiny cape tightly around himself again. It doesn’t contain how badly he smells of pore-distilled alcohol and nervous sweat. “Any of those.”

He considers, briefly. “Explain the night, then.”

“I went to this pledge party…”

“On a Wednesday?” admonishes Viktor, who is known to stay out at the library until they banish him at close and sleeps the minimal amount to function most days of the week; who smokes and drinks and fucks enough for at least two frat boys, just in a wholly different context. Who is, sometimes, kind of a hypocrite.

“It’s Thursday now,” Jayce corrects as if it matters, stalling for seconds. “It was mandatory, okay?” He’s embarrassed, shrinking in his seat. “They had us drink, then confiscated our phones and gave us these costumes. I was supposed to do magic—” which explains the conical wizard hat, ”—but I wasn’t doing a good enough job, so I had to go out onto campus on a special errand,” he accentuates with limp, one handed air quotes, “to, uh, get something.”

“Is that not considered, eh…?” Viktor forgets the word. It doesn’t have much of a place in his vocabulary; was never really relevant during freshman year orientation.

“Yeah, it’s hazing, but it’s not a big deal,” Jayce snaps, filling it in defensively. He deflates just as quickly, resigning to his lot. “It’s just something that happens.”

But Viktor shrugs, “I see no benefit to the situation.” That’s putting it mildly. He’d rather amputate his own leg than be humiliated and told what to do. “Quit.”

This is, apparently, an offensive suggestion. “It’s—No, it’s about the connections.” Jayce is resolute. “Networking. Knowing the right people who can probably get me in the door at the places I want to be one day.”

One word stands out: “Probably?”

“It’s not exactly guaranteed, but if it means the odds are better…”Jayce is less resolute. Like he’s trying to convince himself, confidence in his own choices waxing and waning fretfully.

“And,” asks Viktor, “you think this is worth it?”

“I don’t know,” Jayce whispers in a small, scratchy, tired voice. He knows what this means. The heinous costume; risking his academic career; having to embarrass himself in front of a classmate he hardly knows or cares about. “I just… I thought it would make it easier to make friends, but I don’t want the whole *parties and drinking and girls and ‘haha, isn’t it funny I failed that test?’ *experience.” For a moment he looks like he wants to put his face into the hat in his lap and scream. Instead, he pinches his eyes shut. “They pushed me harder than anyone else tonight, because they know I don’t belong. My grades just bring up their stupid academic average.”

Viktor doesn’t know what to say. It’s not uncommon, this helpless sensation of floundering when confided in, when faced with the enormity of things outside his ability to change or control. He didn’t know what to say when the girl he was tutoring last year told him she lost her scholarship, or when he caught Heimerdinger’s last TA sitting shell shocked on the bathroom floor after finding out their partner cheated. He didn’t know what to say when his mother told him babička wanted to go home home to die (she’s fine, just dramatic and bitter about getting old), or when she saw him changing his shirt while they were packing up the apartment and cried for how she failed him (she didn’t).

He does know that saying I’m sorry never feels right. That it’s empty, and nobody really feels better hearing it. But Jayce is smart and attractive and also, perhaps, just dramatic too. He belongs somewhere, even if he hasn’t found that place yet. “How valuable could these, eh, connections with stupid people be, hm?”

“I mean,” Jayce mutters, “it’s not that they’re stupid—”

“Don’t argue. I’m aware of nepotism and how it functions,” Viktor huffs, tempered by Jayce’s soft laugh of the same quality. “There are always other avenues to get what or where you want. Find them. Your time is better spent than,” he gestures broadly, “on this.”

“Yeah…” Jayce nods. It’s a kinder resignation this time. The troubled creases in his face start to ease away. “Okay.”

Cars pass. Silence settles, strange in that it’s easy. Or, it starts to. But Jayce takes a breath. Hesitates. Takes another one that turns into, “There was no one I could call.” He crosses his legs. Uncrosses them again. Can’t get comfortable with himself or the admission:* *“Not because they took my phone, there just isn’t anyone else.”

“Your friends?”

“Still in high school, and she’s not even old enough to drive yet.” He finds himself on the receiving end of a curious stare, and gets the why of it wrong. “It’s not like that, I swear,” he cringes. “She’s a lesbian, Viktor.” Which is all fine and good, but has nothing to do with why Jayce is speaking in singular. He asked about the plural.

“Your roommate?” he tries.

“Dropped out two weeks ago, and please don’t suggest my mom next.” Jayce rolls his eyes, and they don’t find their way back. He stares off, down at the floor, canting his head away. There’s glitter in his hair. “Trust me on this. It’s not like I wanted someone who hates me but has an oddly memorable phone number to be my one phone call tonight.”

He would’ve been allowed multiple phone calls is the first thing that Viktor thinks. The second: “I don’t dislike you.”

Another eye roll. “You gave me a look.”

“I look at plenty of people,” Viktor hand waves.

“No, a look,” he insists. “It was this ‘if we were in a Russian prison right now, I would shank you’ kind of look.” Viktor narrows his eyes, so he specifies, “When we got assigned in lab?”

“Why,” Viktor asks slowly, “is the prison Russian in this scenario?”

“Because you’re—”

“No. Do not finish that sentence.” Wildly rude and too common of an assumption, but, “In the spirit of forgiveness, I will let that slide,” he holds up a slender finger, “once.” Jayce mouths sorry as Viktor considers the sort of look his face is being accused of. “I…” But he only remembers reading the clear disappointment on Jayce’s. “Was probably thinking about something at the time,” Viktor shrugs.

“How much you wish I’d switch majors?”

“Mm, no. It was the end of class, so probably how much homework I could accomplish before work study, or how late to my next class I could reasonably be if I showed up with coffee from the dining hall.”

“Yeah, but…” He pivots in his seat. His thighs squeak on the plastic. “But you still called me egotistical on the first day of class!”

Yes, when Jayce made a painful show of ingratiating himself to the professor before class. Jayce throws that in his face like some sort of gotcha; in reality, it ranks one of his top ten social failures. “It was a question.” He was simply asking if, in hindsight, the action could be misconstrued as egotistical. “Not a criticism.”

But Jayce scoffs, “How was I supposed to think that when you wouldn’t even shake my hand?”

“It was stuck.” Viktor lifts up his right hand. Empty, but the cane still comes with it, dangling where it’s looped around his wrist. “You took yours away before I could get it out of the strap.”

“But I didn’t know yet that you—” Jayce scrubs his hand down his face, quiet until he whispers a revelatory, “Fuck.” Then a slightly hysterical, breathy, “Fuck,” and he’s smiling, gap-toothed and too brilliant for the lateness of hour.

“Eh, still a weird thing to do, though,” Viktor shrugs. He’s smiling a little too. It’s a private, wry thing. It’s a start.

And by the time they finish, on the other side of campus, on a sidewalk, at a bus stop much like the one they came from, things are very different.

For instance, Jayce has put the horrible wizard hat on. Ironically, of course.

They meander past the library, its windows tall and dark, cutting across the quad in front of it toward the residence halls. “What was your special errand, anyhow?” Viktor asks. “You never said. I’m curious.”

“Yeah, well, I’m trying to forget the horrors. Y’know, of getting caught trying to break into a building with my entire ass out,” he says sheepishly, catching the hat as it starts to slip. It’s not his entire ass. Only about eighty five percent. “I had to borrow something.”

There’s a word he’s avoiding. “What, exactly, were you trying to steal?”

“Borrow,” Jayce counters. “There’s this paperweight in Heimer’s office. Looks kind of like chalcedony, but it does have these faint striations, so I think it might be agate—

“I’m familiar.”

“Anyways, that. I was supposed to get that. Probably because it was impossible.”

“Mm, no, not impossible,” Viktor hums. “You should’ve called me sooner,” he says, dragging a carabiner from his pocket, stripped of paint and utterly ancient. When he holds it up, the street lights catch on tens of little metal teeth. “I have the key.”

[themanboobenjoyer]

GAY PEOPLE HELP ME ‼️‼️‼️

I need recommendations for good jayvik fanfics that arent just oneshots, but instead full on stories 🙏🙏

Im counting on you 🫵🫵

[lovelybrooke]

Platonic Yandere Jayce and Viktor Headcanons (Arcane)

A/N: Before we start, I would like to say that I am not abandoning One Piece or The Last of Us, I just want to write for other things, and I really like Arcane, and I want to write for it. Please feel free to request for either fandom, I would love your input and ideas. Please like, comment, and reblog if you enjoy. Thank you.

Ever since you were a child, you've been interested in Mechanical Engineering. You've been making robots before you could even speak. Your parents were very proud of you and encouraged your abilities, even though you were a child of Vaun, they believed that their child could be something greater.

Your love for machines is how you met Viktor, an awkward kid who could barely walk. You two bonded over your shared love for everything mechanical, and as you both got older, you encouraged him to pursue his dream of going to the academy. He wanted you to go with him, but your parents were getting sick, and you wanted to be there with them. He made you promise you would see each other again before he left, you of course promising to find him when you were older. You hugged goodbye and left.

That was 12 years ago, you parents log gone, and you being forced to work for some very shady people. You've hardened in those many years, but your love for science never lessened. You dreamed of escaping Zaun, finding yourself to the top side, and enrolling in the academy. You want to prove yourself and live up to the expectations of your parents, but Zaun was not a place where people could dream, and you felt trapped and there was nothing you could do but wait. For years, you've been saving money in order to find a place to stay on the top side and escape.

Once you finally made enough money, you immediately found a small apartment and left without looking behind you. It wasn't the greatest, but it was enough for you, and it was better than the shack you previously lived in. You managed to buy some clothes that helped you blend into Piltover.

When you finally met Viktor again, he was ecstatic. He of course, wondered how you managed to get to leave Zaun. Once he's caught up to speed, he quickly tells you about all's he's done the past 13 years. Your most interested in his advancements in Hextech, asking if it was okay if you could see his lab. At first, he wants to show you, mostly to show off, then he remembers that Jayce exists. He truly believes that Jayce would embarrass him, even if it was in good faith.

However, it's very hard to say no to you, and he invites you on a day when he's sure Jayce wasn't there. He rants and raves about all his accomplishments. He's really excited, since he's often overlooked when it comes to Hextech as a whole. However, since nothing goes the way he wants, Jayce interrupts you two, surprised that Viktor brought someone over. You introduce yourself, and start a small conversation with Jayce, which Viktor tries to get over with as soon as possible. Jayce warmed up to your pretty quickly, allowing you to come over to their shared lab whenever you liked. After this, the rest was history.

Viktor and Jayce disagree on a lot of things, but they always agree on one thing, and that's you. As Jayce continued to rise in power with the counsel, he began abusing his power to spend any time he has with you. This aggravates the hell out of Viktor, who constantly feels as though Jayce takes everything from him, including you. So, he uses his status as childhood best friend to get you stop hanging out with Jayce and spend time with him. You and him can relate to so many different things. No matter how nice Jayce is, he'll never experience a fraction of what you and Viktor have gone through, and he knows it.

Jayce really cares about you. He sees you as the sibling he's never had and projects a lot of his brotherly instincts onto you. He treats you like a little baby, even though your only a few years younger than him. He likes to make you food, and you two cooks together when he gets time to himself. He also will dumb a lot of worries onto you. This includes things with Hextech, the counsel, and even Mel. He doesn't see a problem with this, viewing trauma dumping as something siblings do.

It also doesn't help that, as Viktor grows sicker, you begin spending more time with him, to take care of him. You move in with him to help take care of him when he gets too sick to walk or move. You are also very much against him using shimmer and making parts of his body mechanical. Eventually, as the sickness and the shimmer take over his body and mind, you move out, ending your friendship as you refuse to watch someone you care about so much basically kill himself. He begs you not to leave, saying it will only worsen his illness, but you have no choice.

You turn to Jayce, who at this point holds an extreme amount of power on the counsel. You don't know what to do, and you want to help Viktor, and so does Jayce. So, you both take time to study and look for a cure. It takes time, but you eventually create something that can suppress Viktors symptoms. While it isn't invigorating as shimmer, it helps, and he couldn't be more thankful. Him and Jayce both feel indebted to you, Viktor because you helped save his life, and Jayce because you saved his friend.

At this point, they both become very protective of you. They both let you have your own life, but they use their power to subtly remind people that you belong to them. For example, buying you stuff, like when Jayce buys you a new apartment that was much better than your old one. Or when Viktor makes you jewelry from scraps of his old machines.

Viktor and Jayce don't really acknowledge your past in Zaun. Viktor likes to talk about your childhood with him, he doesn't really take into account the time you spent without him. Jayce tries to make you forget about everything from your time in Zaun. He teaches you Piltover history, buys you more fancy and "proper" clothes, and even attempts to get you a job on the counsel, which you quickly deny. Sometimes you open up to them about your struggles living in the bottom side, but it never really goes anywhere, especially with Jayce.

Regardless of all that, they care about you very much. They want to see you live a better life then you previously had, and they work hard to give you that. While Viktor sometimes feels as though he can't do as much as Jayce, but he is relived when he sees your awe at his creations. Jayce wants to be a good brother to you and will go as far as introducing you as his sibling to others when in public. They will do anything for you but aren't afraid to manipulate you to in order for you to stay with them.

A/N: I really don't know how to feel about this, but I hope you enjoy.

[thehistoriangirl]

Natural Inclination

I think this fic is all over the place, but if you allow me, I’ll justify myself saying this was made while the ✨ baby fever ✨ took over my brain. Nevertheless, I hope you like it jkfkjsjkd :3

Jayce x gn!Reader**-----1.3K-----SFW

Summary (very much plotless fluff): Jayce as a dad, that’s it. That’s all. [Thanks for coming to my talk muhuh]

Tags: Domestic Fluff| **No gendered words for Reader but they have a baby| Did I say Fluff already?|

There weren't many people as physically effusive as Jayce Talis.

Even you needed to grow used to his random affections after you two began to date, the not-so-fleeting kisses on the cheek, or the hugs that pulled your body against his chest before he went to work after lunch.

It took some time for you to actively try and be as openly physical as he was, and thankfully, after a couple of awkward hugs, bad positioned kisses, and anticlimactic pats on his head, you obtained the ability to sense his hazel eyes looking at you from the corner of his vision, trying to be subtle.

In the lab or the house, it didn't matter. You were working over your desk—the living room table—but could hear, first the creak in the wood when Jayce left his seat, and then, his tiptoeing toward you.

At some point, your hands were ready to grab his shoulder when he tilted his body to kiss you on the cheek. With some practice you managed to shift your position, so you were kissing him on the lips instead.

You liked the sound of his surprised gasp, muffled halfway with a moan.

But getting used to his unreserved attention took time. Jayce was understandable every time you flinched when he touched you while you were distracted, head buried over paperwork. He learned quickly, deciding to call your name from a few meters away instead: "... Can I hug you?"

You nodded, smiling widely when you were alone. Blushing and looking at him with wide eyes when you weren't, that was most of the occasions.

However, it was only a matter of time before someone came to understand him fully.

It wasn't a matter of imitating, not anymore. It was… natural, one must say.

Inherited.

Ever since Jayce discovered he was about to become a father, he started to be even more physically drawn to you—you imagined that was the reason the baby copied his intense affection. Cuddling over the bed on the cold nights you two were still working, with you sitting between his legs, both lazy picking cookies and slices of fruit put in a bowl on the nightstand.

Of course, you weren't the only one to gain weight during the pregnancy.

Whatever the reason, the baby got drawn toward Jayce from the first moment. He used to lull her when you were too exhausted to even lift the covers of the mattress before falling asleep—which was most of the time. Sometimes, you were cold because Jayce wasn't hugging you, only to discover him stiffly sleeping on his back, your baby tucked carefully over his chest as his hands hovered over her figure.

Most of his free time, Jayce spent with his baby tucked between his arms, or hung at his chest, because the little creature seemed to be totally obsessed with him, discovering that babbling 'apapapapa' would make her father totally besotted, almost tearing up as the first time he heard his child calling him Apa, tiny hands all over his face as she giggled as if trying to memorize him by tact alone.

Time passed fast, especially when watching over a baby that soon enough was out of the craddle, moving on her baby walker, bouncing with chubby legs against the couches as Jayce looked, hands frozen in the air and lips open in a silent gasp. But the baby didn't slow down, and soon enough Jayce could hear his baby crawling, following him with happy coos, dragging a stuffed poro over the floor.

"Apa, apa, apa!" she said, completely ignoring your figure peeking from the corner of the bedroom, hands folded over your elbows as your lips expanded with a smile you couldn't completely hide.

Jayce set aside the locks of hair covering his eyes as he knelt to be somewhat at her height. "Princess, I told you to stay in the bedroom. I'm going to take a shower—" But his same hazel eyes looked back at him, the baby pouting, lip quivering, just like you did when you tried to make him spend more than with you, responsibilities aside. He was weak, and she knew it. "Alright. I guess it's time for you to take a bath, too."

He lifted her with one arm, the other taking the plushie out her grasp as Jayce walked inside the bedroom, baby crooning half-words she must have heard from your daily conversations with Jayce, others that could only be the result of discussions between Viktor and Jayce—you'd never said the word catalyst inside the house (and maybe never).

As the stuffed animal laid on the bed, Jayce took the pile of clothes you'd put in bed around half an hour ago when Jayce first said he was about to take a shower. Of course, he didn't, for his child wasn't done playing. And who was he to stop her? He didn't have many days off per week to indulge himself in quality time with his baby.

"We'll be back," he said, stealing a peek out of you while passing next to you, the little clothes tucked under his free arm, your baby playing with the loose threads of his towel.

He did feel bad for being unable to spend as much time with you as you were used to, but at least you didn't replicate his same puppy eyes, now improved with a teary feature, lips trembling. Now, Jayce understood what you called, chuckling every time: "top-quality trickery".

It happened many times, but especially, when he put his child down on the crib, still not completely sleepy, wishing to have some time alone with you. You'd be both laying on the living room's bigger couch, him asking you to read out loud any books you were revising to present in your classes. The baby would then sit despite him putting her perfectly tucked in the covers, little fist moving up and down as Jayce stepped further. Panting would follow, and then it would culminate in a shaky, filled with sadness: "a…pa…pa…" Without hesitation, and with his heart shattered, he would pick her up and shush to calm her, just a little.

As fast as it came, the tears would dry away.

That day, you finished planning your class a couple of hours later, and silence poured from the bedroom. Tiptoeing against the cold, wooden floor, you saw Jayce sleeping with a baby happily snuggled over his chest, his sleeping gown open to cover his daughter's back, even if he wasn't properly covered by the blankets.

The mattress dipped over your weight, Jayce turning his head toward you. He didn't have such a light sleep before meeting you—he usually slept over his stomach, and not even a storm raging outside would wake him up, and you suspected it only changed when your baby was born.

And speaking of. Jayce rubbed his eyes, sitting carefully to not awaken the little human over his chest. His hands were dexterous, repeating the same mastered movements to put the baby inside the crib, cover her with the fluffy blankets, and then activate the silent mechanism both he and Viktor ideate to move the cradle automatically.

When he returned to the mattress, you had already put the covers aside, leaving him an open entrance. You yawned, patting the pillow next to yours.

"Rough day, uh?" you whispered, your breath moving Jayce's black hair against his ear, making him shiver.

Jayce hugged you, as usual, the inner force trying to push sleep away, but his eyelids were heavy as he pushed you down the covers, your cheek pressed against his chest.

"I don't mind," he said, lips barely open as he kissed the top of your head, snuggling against your hair as Jayce sighed one last time before his breathing became even, muscle memory cradling your torso the same way he did with your baby.

With that thought in mind, gazing over Jayce's peaceful features, and then further, over the cradle outlined with the moonlight, you fell into slumber, a soft smile playing on your lips.

[woollywanderer]

Arcane AU where Viktor's "wait, this isn't my room" lie somehow works, and Jayce has to pretend to be his new boyfriend to gain access to the lab rooms at night.

. Jayce looking all smug when questioned. "You said I couldn't come back to the Academy again, you didn't say I couldn't f@#k the members."

. Viktor being asked why he's wasting his time with a disgraced member of House Tallis, and him just shrugging and casually saying, "well, we all like a bit of a bad boy," and going back to his notes.

. Heimerdinger coming across a locked lab room door with strange lights and sounds coming from within:

"You boys better not be doing illegal science in there."

"No Professor, we're ...uh... having sex. "

"Understandable, have a great day."

[binghe-malewife-goals]

I'm so sad, so many good Jayvik fics are never picked up again,,,,

That being said, please read this Modern AU Ghost Jayvik fic, it's so incredibly fun:

Breathing Life into Ghosts

[lullabyes22-blog]

I am legit spoiled rotten rn<3

Sharing beautiful gifs designed by @lipsticksandmolotovs from the literal masterpiece of an artwork by @shahs1221

Follow them on Twitter | Patreon | Ko-fi

Seriously. Feast thine eyes.

All images are used with permission and deepest awe!

Thank you so much, Lipsticks, and heaps of smooches to ShahS for sharing their talent with us all<333

A Jazzed-up video version can be found here.

Forward, but Never Forget/XOXO on AO3

Playlists, meta, fanart and tons more here.

[angelltheninth]

Knowledge is Magic

Pairing: Jayce x Viktor

Tags: fluff, confession, kissing, co-workers, asking out on a date, slightly dense Jayce Talis

Word count: 0.6k

Ao3

A/N: Not a himbo but close to one, and Viktor knows it.

Viktor sat in front of his board, cane in front of him and hands balancing it back and forth. It was already approaching closing hours, and he hasn't moved from his chair.

"This is unusual, even for you." Jayce leaned his arm on the chair, his eyes scanning across the numbers and letters on the board. "You've been looking at this for hours. Maybe a fresh pair of eyes will help." Viktor looked up at his lab partner.

"Be my guest." He gestured to the front of him. "Although I don't think you'll be able to figure it out." Viktor stood up and walked to the board with Jayce, "We could... try together." His voice shook a little but covered it up with a little caught. Nothing suspicious or unusual for him so Jayce had no reason to think anything of it.

The taller man nodded and stepped to the first problem. "We can start from each end, meet in the middle so to speak." He suggested as he winked playfully, not even realizing what those winks and toothy smirks were doing to Viktor's heart.

They traded glances and theories and solutions, each coming up with a letter at the end of the calculation. It was easy, way too easy for Viktor to be stuck on it for so long. Strange.

"Viktor, are you feeling okay?" Jayce paused mid-writing to look at him, Viktor didn't look away from his task, once again confirming to Jayce that it wasn't a real problem.

"I feel fine." Now this was even weirder but Jayce chose to hold his questions for now. Instead he chose to focus on the task at hand. They were almost done anyway.

"Okay! We have... a series of letters?" Jayce tilted his head like a confused and curious cat.

"I will take a little break, maybe something will come to me." Viktor patted Jayce on the shoulder and took his seat again, watching as his partner figured out the puzzle. He heard him mumbling on occasion, about a pattern, about an order of the numbers used to get the letters. Finally he started to put them in order, Viktor's smile widening with each one he wrote. "Finished. Let's see what we got!" As excited as a puppy Jayce took a few steps back to read it out, "Jayce will you go out with me?"

The man had never looked so puzzled before. Viktor had done it, he made Jayce speechless.

"Well Jayce, will you?" Jayce turned around to see Viktor standing behind him, a blush on his face and a smile on his lips. Time wasn't relevant, it wasn't moving, it was just between the two of them now, silence that dragged on for eternity.

Jayce blinked away from the trance and turned around to make sure he read that right. In his head he knew it was right, that the words asked the same question and Viktor waited for an answer.

Jayce was good at those. He turned back, ready and determined and confidant in it, "Yes."

A weight felt like it was lifted off Viktor's shoulders for the first time in years. His feet felt lighter then before as he walked right into Jayce's arms, not experiencing a hint of hesitation from the arms that embraced him.

"How long have you been coming up with that one?" Jayce looked at him, smiling with his shining smile. Viktor chuckled and shook his head, trying to calm his heart down enough to get the words out.

"Quite a while now. It re-did the calculations a dozen times for each." This was probably one of the bravest things he did yet, and this next one would be even braver. He leaned on Jayce rather than his cane, holding onto his shoulder and chest, "Is it okay to kiss you?"

"Yeah." It felt much like magic, the one they tried to reach. When they kissed it was like they were floating again, maybe they were, they didn't know, for they didn't dare to take their eyes off each other.

[arachnaspi]

Alr yall imma need whoever is versed in the jayce/viktor tag in ao3 to help a sister out.

There's this fic I read years ago that I can't for the life of me remember the name of and I only remember really basic parts of the plot (if my memory even serves me right): jayce and vik are in their divorce era but the POV is from some grocery store worker who keeps it a secret that vik goes to the grocery store she works in (im pretty sure the worker was female if that helps?). I think jayce and vik make up in the end; I know there's some sort of confrontation tho. Anyways, I can't find it and I kinda wanna cry because I really want to reread it.

If anyone can help I will love you forever.