#jaymelvik

[blackwhite-wings]

Have sum MelJayVik

I saw someone on here today, mentioning that people should stop seeing artistic nudity as sexual, so I wanted to share some non-sexual nude art, I made a couple weeks ago. (I was too plain lazy to draw clothes)

I promise, after this post, I'll start the piece you voted for :) Just be patient, I have a stressful month ahead of me.

[dannidorina]

✨For meljayvik truthers!✨

[heavensenthale]

I'll show you the light, with all the lights out

Fandom: Arcane Relationship: Mel/Jayce/Viktor Rating: Explicit 2.4k words

Read on AO3

Excerpt:

It starts with hopelessness.

They’re on the brink of war, they’ve been attacked with their own science under their own noses and all Jayce can think of is that he failed. The research that was supposed to bring progress and peace to the city has become the one that will see the city fall.

“We need to be prepared,” Mel says, “in case this happens again.”

“You want us to build weapons?” Viktor’s frustration is palpable, his anger as thick a blanket as the one he’d huddle under sometimes when working late at night in the lab.

“I’m just saying we need to consider our options.” Always the diplomat, Mel doesn’t push, but Jayce almost wishes she did. It’d be something to do, a direction to take.

Viktor only thinks of soothing. “I’m sorry, Jayce, I don’t have any answers. I don’t know what to do.”

A silence fills the room as the morning fog near the docks. It’s heavy and tense and Jayce cannot, for the life of him, think of a way out that doesn’t involve more violence.

It’s Mel who breaks it.

Unexpectedly, abruptly, with the last thing he would’ve imagined.

“You guys wanna have a threesome?”

[bigowlenergy]

Characterizing Jayce: he gets vertigo when its windy, frequently gets migraine auras, his rotator cuffs are not doing well from overenthusiastic forging, although hes a great speaker the only one he can never really convince is himself, he can control the exact pounds of pressure he exerts in his hands on a scale while blindfolded, his relationship with his mother is complex even while it is loving, and-

Characterizing Mel: she’s great under pressure but only bc she was raised in a high stakes environment, she’s haunted by her family’s legacy even more strongly as she chafes to escape it and redefine herself, her physical presentation in public is Always Deliberate bc she’s always forced to be aware of her position in society, she’s burnt out and exhausted but does not understand why when she thinks she handles the pressure of making her willpower manifest so well and-

Characterizing Viktor: that one post where op’s bf didnt buy her candy from the gas station when he went in so she started withholding affection from their relationship and made herself miserable for a year

[jayktoralldaylong]

Mel being so sweet. Having an adorable habit of painting when she's frustrated. She paints to relax and blow out steam.

Then....there's her boyfriends.

Jayce, who hammers weapons of mass destruction into existence inside his forge when he's stressed.

Then Viktor, whose method of stress relief is basically dark magic.

Mel sure knows how to pick 'em.

[achillesangst]

[prince-strife]

sky: this is my boyfriend viktor, and that’s viktor’s boyfriend jayce, and that’s jayce’s girlfriend mel. who is also me and viktor’s girlfriend

[tbiatc]

Incorrect jaymelvik

[nothingtoseehd]

i used to ship jaymelvik as a joke,, but i don’t think it’s a joke anymore

[goddessofroyalty]

So after writing two Arcane omegaverse fics that are very much dealing with the first-heat that is nothing like a real heat, I feel like I almost have to to write a True Heat in the general verse worldbuilding I have around there. 

The only problem is my brain has two very different ideas (in... characters, place in the timeline, and tone) 

Option 1 is alpha!Jayce (and maybe alpha!Mel) is trying his(/their) best to spoil and ‘’’protect’’’ omega!Viktor during his heat because That Is What You Do. Meanwhile from Viktor’s perspetive he only ‘needs’ his alphas when the sex-drive bit of the heat gets to the point where he can’t focus (and he’s very good at communicating that), other than that though they both(/all) have Very Important Work to do he does not need them hanging around or bringing him food and blankets and things. He doesn’t need a nest he needs his lab, please stop dragging him back home. (TL/DR exploring cultural differences around How Heats Should Be Handled and also the three workaholics)

Option 2 is beta!Benzo’s just having the worst time of his life stuck in an now way too small apartment with in-heat omega!Silco and alpha!Vander who is jumping to do anything Silco asks of him (and therefore sending Benzo’s off whenever it requires the collection of something outside the apartment) when he’s not pressing Silco into the couch or the kitchen table or apparently every surface in their bedroom. And the walls are way too thin and if either of them could discover shame that would be much appreciated. (TL/DR exploring the awkwardness of heats when people are stuck living on top of each other)

Of course Option 3 is to do a three generational thing with alpha!Vi and omega!Caitlyn as the third to round it off (possible the kind of First Heat Together Negotiations and Awkwardness)

[caspercryptid]

could i request a jayvikmel zombie apocalypse au? ship or gen anything is fine.

This....got away from me. Feel free to hop into my inbox about a follow up sometime, or don't and I'll circle back, because.... this. Really. Really got away from me.

Jayvik and Jaymel, currently, for worldbuilding reasons. I'll close the V later. Enjoy!

TWs: Gore, vomiting, violence, disease...Zombie stuff. yknow.

____

When it starts, all Jayce can think about is how relieved he is that it isn’t his fault.

It’s a stupid thing to think. Genetics and epidemiology and biology had never been his field, that was more Viktor’s area, and that was the really terrifying thing, that was where the relief ended. Because it hadn’t been his lab. His lab was in Washington DC. He was fairly well insulated, for a while, at his nice house in the suburbs and his politician neighbors that were ready to lock everything down at a moment’s notice. It hadn’t started in Washington DC, nor out at Langley, nor in any of the weird bits of unmarked map where google decided to stop showing you pictures of the street and you just had to make your own assumptions.

One day, Jayce had turned on the TV, and found out that Boston was being quarantined, and the only thing he could think was oh, Fuck, Viktor, what have you done.

That had... unfortunately. Proven prescient.

It’s not that Jayce had been wholly incapable of telling which way the wind was blowing. It’s just that he tended to be pessimistic, and then tended to try to balance out that pessimism with rationality. It wouldn’t be that bad. They must have caught it quickly, the city was on lockdown before people even started reporting symptoms. And the deaths were bad, yes, when those started, but that just validated the concern. The city was on lockdown. Really, the only person he had to be scared for was Viktor, and he was. Terrified. For Viktor. A week in, after the first people started showing symptoms, he’d tried to call. No voicemail. Nine days in. Fevers, chills, dehydration. Two calls, one from a payphone just in case Viktor had call ID. no answer. No voicemail. Eleven days. Vomiting. Disorientation. A strange increase in bone mass, calcifying. Arrhythmia. Abnormal muscular changes. Hey, Viktor, I know it’s been a while since we talked–

Fourteen days. Three deaths. All in immunocompromised patients. Comorbidities. It’s not that surprising. The fever alone would do it. Viktor’s facebook hasn’t been updated since a week before the lockdown. Neither has his linkedin. Sixteen. Eight deaths. One was a child. Jayce sends an email. The news starts getting conflicting reports. The death toll might be higher than reported. The lab is seizing bodies and not returning them to their families. The family of the ten year old files a lawsuit.

Day Nineteen.

FROM: ViktorMH@█████.edu

SUBJECT: re: Please just tell me you’re okay

MESSAGE:

Jayce, Get on a plane and get out of the country. Any plane. Any country. The more remote the better. Leave. Now.

The next time Jayce sees Viktor, it’s day 21, on television, and he’s grabbing the mic at a press conference to tell everyone the dead are rising, and he’s escorted off the stage.

On day 23, they do.

Jayce isn’t fast enough leaving, because of course he isn’t. Not getting on a plane, getting to boston, because if he was going to die he was going to die next to the only person in the world he’d ever loved, and he had said as much in the emails he’d sent that had all bounced with a RETURN TO SENDER and something about invalid usernames. Viktor had lost his post at the university. Jayce didn’t care. Jayce didn’t care if Viktor didn’t know he was coming for him, he wasn’t going to let anything, not even the literal apocalypse, stop him.

Unfortunately, the literal apocalypse did not get the memo.

He bites back a scream as he gets stuck in a blockade trying to head north around DC. Traffic had been pretty clear– everyone’s heading the other way, but he gets shut down by the officers trying to quarantine the city. He’s arguing with a border patrol officer that seems to have been shipped in to deal with it– the guy barely seems to know what’s going on. Jayce is trying to argue, and the guy's hands are up, and then he bends double and throws up.

Jayce is so thrown off that he’s not paying attention to what’s going on around him– his car’s stopped on the side of the road, he’s just standing in front of an offer who’s vomiting– what looks like blood and–

Jayce’s brain completely fails to process the rest of what’s in front of him, and he freezes, and he processes belatedly that he’s not wearing a mask, why isn’t he wearing a mask, surely the disease has a risk of an airborne vector–

But in the same second second as the disgust and the fear hits him, Jayce’s mouth is already moving. “Are you– okay?”

The man doesn’t respond, just groans, swaying on his feet. Instinctively, Jayce moves forward to steady him, and then there’s a hand grabbing the back of his shirt.

“I wouldn’t do that, if I were you.”

The voice is– Jayce turns around.

The voice matches it’s owner.

She’s beautiful, in the kind of way that strikes Jayce dumb for a second, like he hadn’t since high school, and maybe it’s half the shock. She has freckles, Jayce thinks, stupidly, except they’re gold flakes across her dark skin like a handful of stars coming out when the sun first sets. There’s gold clips in her hair, too, twisted neatly up on top of her head. She’s wearing a suit with gold buttons that flash in the light, gold cufflinks that Jayce notices distantly as her hand draws back.

She gives him a patient look, like maybe she’s used to this reaction, and then she says–

“Get in my car.”

“–What?” Jayce manages.

“If you don’t get in my car,” She says, sweetly, “you are going to die.”

“What?”

She purses her lip, and then there’s movement in Jayce’s peripheral vision, but he can’t make it what it is before he’s shoved, full-body, the woman dragging him at full force and then half-flinging him at a car with blacked out windows, and Jayce isn’t thinking, Jayce is finally jarred enough to open the door, but he makes a mistake, and he turns around, half-shouts a warning as the officer lunges.

She’s a few steps behind him, but she’s not making it to the car, she’s stopping, and it happens so fast that Jayce swears he didn’t see it, that his mind has to fill in the gaps in the seconds, because one second there’s a man lunging with blood down his chin at the woman’s back, and the next her arm is up and there’s blood bursting out the man’s neck, and he’s going down, and it’s only after he hits the ground that Jayce hears the sound of the gun, processes that she’s holding it, and he covers his mouth, because screaming doesn’t seem like what he should do right now.

She turns back around, and Jayce doesn’t know what expression he was expecting to see, but it's not the raw half-panic furrowing between her eyebrows and into the lines of her face.

“I missed.” She says, nonsensically. “Please get in the car, now.”

“What do you mean you–”

Jayce freezes, stopping, as the man behind her starts to pull himself up, but she’s not waiting for any more reactions, she shoves jayce by the shoulders into her backseat and slams the door, and then lunges back into the driver’s side and slams the door shut as the body of the man slams into it– because surely it’s just a body, surely that’s not a person anymore, but it’s still moving, teeth and gore against the window, and Jayce wretches, covering his mouth, and the woman in the front seat is slamming on the gas, barreling over traffic cones, speedometer needle jerking forward.

“–Mel.” She says, looking slightly hysterical. “My name is Mel.”

“Jayce.” Jayce says. “Doctor Talis. Not the useful kind of doctor. Do you have a bag? I think I'm going to throw up.”

He doesn’t wait for an answer.

[artificialcaretaker]

Sleeping in a big bed can be something so personal.

[dannidorina]

Jayce Talis? Or personal projection character?

[eve6262]

down with a fever [[jayce/viktor]]

Viktor hasn't left his bed in two days.

Normally that would be remarkable, a testament to either an exceedly poor mental health crisis or kidnapping. Either of those might have been preferable to the absolute hell that actually has him trapped there.

"I'm back," Jayce softly announces into the room, a metal tray in his hand. Despite Viktor's insistence he has stayed since Sunday, only leaving for Council meetings or to get medicine he knows won't help much of anything.

In fairness, he does not put up a good fight when his limbs refuse to cooperate and his body feels like it's on fire.

It's always been this sort of way, even when the relationship between them had the nebulous label of "partners" and they weren't so wise to its mutual assertion. Whenever Viktor would get sick- and sick as everything, barely able to exist, often scaring everyone he would die- Jayce would stay by his side, taking care of him because "that's what a good partner does."

Back then, Viktor pretended not to remember that Jayce would sit on the bed with a head in his lap and a sketchbook in his hands. Now, as his partner- now defined and romantic- sits up on the bed, he doesn't hide his insistence that he be cuddled.

"I brought you some soup."

Viktor's face must betray him, because the next line is, "C'mon, you have to eat something."

"I'll try," he says, voice hoarse.

"Shh. No need to talk."

He's carefully repositioned until he's leaning on Jayce's side, and that must be painful with his metal arm but he's not going to complain because he rather likes this orientation. A spoon is brought to his lips, and he opens; the taste is good, not the sort of thing Jayce would usually make but it reminds him of home in a good way.

Swallowing proves a little hard, but he manages. Bite after bite- is it a bite if it's soup, he wonders hazily- until Jayce is satisfied and asks him if he wants a sip of tea. When there's no response it's taken as a yes, and an insistent mug is brought to his lips that he sips from.

You don't have to stay, he wants to say. Jayce's entire body screams movement constantly, he's never seen the man as still as he is when Viktor's sick. And usually they're both whirlwinds in their own right, but for different reasons.

Viktor is a whirlwind because he needs to be. Without movement the angled shapes become more sad than sharp, the pain in his leg gets more defined, the buzzing in his brain takes over in a way that he can't control and he never gets anything done. Without pacing in front of a blackboard or idly twisting a lock of hair around his fingers he can't think properly. His body will catch up with him, as it does now, even with metal joints.

But Jayce needs movement because he was built for it. Muscles, limber and strong, a flexibility that should frankly be illegal for such a man and the confidence to use it; he doesn't pace, but he does use his whole body when he strikes something with a hammer or screws a plate into place on whatever invention they're working on. He's always in search of something new, having to run to it and then flitting over to the next thing like a butterfly excitedly smelling all the fresh flowers.

Jayce shouldn't be sitting down doing nothing like this. Viktor, this is what his body wants even if his mind doesn't, but for Jayce this is what both his body and mind need. It's strange to see him in stasis.

He doesn't have to stay. But his throat feels like hell and it is very comforting to have a hand running through his hair as Jayce reads through something, so he doesn't say a word about it. You're allowed to be a little greedy on your practical deathbed even if you know death isn't arriving just yet, right?

"Y'know, Mel asked me if I was with you after the Council meeting yesterday."

"Mmph."

"I said yeah, you're sick, I'm not gonna leave you alone. And you know what she said?"

He wants to make a joke, say something about how Mel likely saw him as a rival to her relationship with Jayce and she probably wished death upon him in the edge of her breath but instead he just makes another noncommital noise.

"She asked if you were gonna be okay."

That's common courtesy, he thinks.

"And that was weird, 'cause- I always thought she hated you."

That's because she does, he thinks.

"But then, she wouldn't have offered to make soup for you before I left, right?"

That's because...something.

His brain is fried, quite literally considering his fever, and he's only vaguely cognizant of his emotions. But he can listen to Jayce go on about something for hours and never get bored even now, so why is it he desperately wants him to change the subject?

He should be scared that Mel poisoned the soup, he thinks distantly. It'd be the kind of killing she'd approve of, the kind of thing a Noxian-grown politican with an aversion for proper weaponry would employ as a tactic. But he can't, mostly because he thinks he could die right now if a fly looked at him wrong so it wouldn't really be her fault either way, and because Jayce's trust is infectious.

That's what he tells himself, anyway.

"She's being nice," he says.

"Shh," Jayce insists, and appropriately changes the topic to some nonsense about sketching and painting and art that Viktor could listen to for hours, head on his lap until this fever breaks and he's able to walk around again and make his own food and work on his own robots.

It's so soothing that he falls asleep again, eventually. He doesn't even notice when Jayce leaves to go address Blitzcrank calling for him, expecting to have to deny a stray Jinx or worried Ekko, but seing Mel Medarda herself in plainclothes.

"Do you mind if I visit?"

"...Sure. I think it's okay, Blitz."

"Creator Viktor will not mind?"

"I don't think so."

"Then you may pass."

"Thank you- Blitz, is it?"

"This unit is named Blitzcrank."

"Thank you, Blitzcrank."

He does eventually notice that Mel comes by, because she waits in a chair until he's awake and chats with him. And he can only vaguely understand the conversation, nodding along and letting Jayce steer it because any time he tries to talk both of them shush him for the awful voice, and he thinks distantly that he doesn't mind this.

It's actually quite peaceful.

--

crossposted on ao3, eve6262 there too

also I'm falling for the jay/mel/vik propaganda someone (2 someones) has been writing

~Eve6262

[jayktoralldaylong]

ACT 3

Jayce: Really Viktor? Suicide?

Viktor: It's not what it looks like.... Okay...maybe it is. This is so embarrassing. I just....

Jayce, smirks: Without me?

Viktor:

Viktor: Wanna jump at the count of 3?

Jayce, grins: You bet. One....Two....

Mel, grabs both their collars: Hold it!

[meljayvikweek]

✨✨UPDATE!!!✨✨

We're pushing back a week! The carrd will be updated asap, and none of the prompts are changing! This is in response to a request from contributors for some extra time! Thank you all so much for keeping up with us and staying updated!