also: Velcro Viktor. his (obvious) desire to glue himself to jayce to be together always
Setting: post-canon
———
There is a thin line between devotion and dependence.
Jayce cuts that line with rusty razor and snorts it off a urinal. Viktor laces it with shimmer to make sure he always comes back for more. Though, he’s not sure which of them is the dealer at this point when they’re both overdosing on this metaphorical vomit-soaked bathroom floor.
Not when Viktor is the one who goes through withdrawals whenever Jayce leaves the room.
The rational part of him knows it’s unhealthy. He knows he shouldn’t encourage this. But damn, addicts have a funny way of rationalizing the irrational don’t they?
The arcane chewed them up and spat them out more or less human than they were before. Viktor more, Jayce less. He’s still getting used to the way his veins aren’t blue anymore, but seem to fluctuate between green, purple, and pink. How he can see colors he still can’t find a name for. And how objects will either push or pull away from him like two magnets repelling each other. It’s strange, no doubt about that, but tolerable.
Viktor is a different story. He ascended to godhood and then plummeted back down into humanity like a meteor. He went from being made of magic and starlight to figuring out what it felt like to have flesh again. He had cut himself off from all human emotion only to have them all shoved back into him, his mind shutting down in the futile attempt to process them all.
Viktor hasn't said a word since then. Sometimes he scratches his arms raw, like he’s trying to get bugs out from under his skin. Other times he shoots up in bed, sobbing until his voice gives out. Everyday is different though; some better, some worse.
But that’s why Jayce always needs to stay by his side. Viktor needs him like he needs air. Because who else but him would be able to help Viktor? Who else would possibly be able to understand but himself? Who else but him and him alone?
So Jayce lets Viktor cling to him for as long as he needs. He lets him follow him from room to room like a frightened shadow. He lets Viktor depend on him more than he should.
Viktor sort of just forgets to eat a lot of the time, and when he does remember, he grabs a shitty instant noodle pot or something and just inhales it so he can get back to work.
Jayce notices this, and starts bringing in tupperware boxes of things from places across the city for him, or perhaps he cooks them himself: wholesome and nourishing without being overwhelmingly rich - soups and broths, noodles and stews that Viktor can still reheat and inhale while he works.
However, Jayce notices that gradually Viktor starts taking actual lunch breaks. Jayce keeps his smiles to himself, glad to see Viktor enjoying something.
Obsessed with the idea of Viktor being in love with Jayce from the start, but Jayce doesn’t love him until after the whole glorious evolution shebang because he’s lowkey an emotional masochist, which inevitably causes a shit ton of strife given the whole Viktor ‘doesn’t have emotions’ thing and Jayce missed his chance (and also they’re sworn enemies). Hmmm the angst possibilities.
*coughs loudly* One of Jayvik's cheesy dates? *cough cough*
Setting: Mod AU, Chicago
———
When Viktor had moved to America for his PhD, he knew exactly three things:
1. University of Chicago is an amazing school with a world-renowned engineering department.
2. Chicago is a much larger and louder city than Prague.
3. Apparently deep dish pizza is a big deal here
Now, after living in the Windy City for little over a year, Viktor now knows the following:
1. Chicago is much, much, much (much) colder than Prague, like a lot colder.
2. Jayce Giopara-Talis is the love of his life.
3. The Museum of Science and Industry is the greatest place on earth.
Viktor stares at the space shuttle as if he is seeing the face of God. He knows it’s a replica, but that’s not the point. The point is that amazing piece of machinery went to the moon! And made it back!
“Can you imagine it? Getting to go up to space?” He says to Jayce, who is reading the summary about moon rocks beside him. He doesn’t respond, Viktor nudges him with his cane. “Jayce.”
Jayce’s eyes shoot up to meet Viktor’s like a dog that just heard the jingle of car keys. “Sorry hun, what’d you say? Hey, did you know that no lunar samples have ever been in contact with Earth’s atmosphere? They would immediately start to oxidize and degrade so they’re kept in nitrogen chambers and—“, Jayce pauses, smiling sheepishly, “You had a question.”
Viktor chuckles and presses a kiss into Jayce’s bicep. Most of their conversations typically follow this pattern; with each of them going off on tangents until the other’s focused gravity pulls them back into orbit. Or an asteroid crashes into both of them and they’re left hurtling through space and disjointed tangents together until they both have completely forgotten what they had been talking about.
“I asked what you think it would have been like, to go to the moon.”
Jayce looks at Apollo 11 and chews his bottom lip. Viktor has only seen him do this when he’s deep in thought, turning and rotating a problem in his mind to get every possible angle.
After a moment goes by, he says, “it must have been both terrifying and exhilarating. Like, here you are, a harbinger of progress and a new age. You’re literally going to the fucking moon, for gods sake!”
Viktor tries his best to look guilty as a mother shoots them a glare and covers her child’s ears. Jayce doesn’t notice, continuing, “But at the same time. You genuinely don’t know if you’re going to make it back. All you’ve got is the scratchy voice of a guy all the way down in Houston, telling you everything’s alright. And then next to you, some guy who’s practically a stranger, who you have no choice but to trust with your life, but he’s just as scared shitless as you are. But it’s way better than being all alone up there.”
Viktor hums, still partly transfixed by the stars reflected in the gold foil of the space shuttle. “What if it were us in there and we were going to the moon?”
He expects a joke about his terrible motion sickness and aversion cramped spaces, not: “Oh baby, if it were us, first thing I’d do is write our names in the dirt. No wind up there, so it’ll be there forever.”
If you're up for it, I need some soft fluff. Preferably late night in the lab, and just two frustrated and sleepy bois, needing to relax. Bonus points if you do Zaunite Jayce and Piltovian Viktor (but that's only if you're up for it) 💕
I’ve called this ‘Sweetmilk at 2am’, and like my other ones from today, I’ll post it on AO3 as well. I went for Zaunite Jayce and Piltovian Viktor in this one, because why not have some fun with it? I hope it’s fluffy enough for you, and thanks for the prompt!
AO3 | Tumblr writing masterlist
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Viktor looked up and did a small double-take at the sight of his partner slumped over his desk. Jayce was one of those rarer Zaunites who had only grown bigger and tougher under adversity. Where many had been slowly poisoned into chronic sickness by the chemicals in the water and the fumes in the air, Jayce seemed to have simply cracked his knuckles and fought it all off with his fists. He’d shown up for his first day at the Academy with a black eye and a fat, split lip, and he’d taken every problem they’d had together head-on ever since.
Viktor approached things like a set of engraver’s tools, steady, cautious, and lethally sharp. Except, at nearly two in the morning, he didn't feel lethally sharp anymore. He felt slow and foggy, and the caffeine they had knocked back hours ago had fizzled to nothing in their bloodstream. Jayce could drink a ristretto right before bed and still sleep like the dead though.
Sleep was a fickle mistress to Viktor on any day of the week, but that night, he thought she might be kind to him. He yawned expansively and pushed carefully back from the desk, reaching for his cane as he stood and stretched out the pins and needles from his tight muscles. The action made him realise that Jayce was going to get a terrible crick in his neck and back if he stayed hunched over his notes like that, so Viktor crossed to him and laid a hand gently on his shoulder. Whether it was a reflex honed on the streets of Zaun or simply an honest surprise, Jayce twitched awake immediately and grabbed Viktor’s wrist in his fingers.
In the blink of an eye he had applied the kind of pressure that would see Viktor in an armlock he could never hope to escape, only to let go and immediately turn in his seat to face him. “Fuck, Vik,” he said. “I’m so sorry. You scared the shit out of me. I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
“No apologies needed, Jayce,” Viktor smiled, though he did rub his wrist carefully with his other hand for a moment. The size of Jayce’s hands was starting to spark all sorts of inappropriate thoughts. “I believe we have passed our academic and intellectual peak for the evening, however.”
Jayce yawned again and nodded. “You ok? You look wiped out.”
“I…” Viktor faltered. Truth was, he was wrecked after weeks of pushing towards their latest deadline and scraping by on three hours of sleep a night at most. “I could benefit from a hot shower and a few hours’ rest before we get going again,” he hedged.
“C’mon. If that place on Foundry Boulevard is still open, I’ll get you a sweetmilk on our way.”
Viktor’s stomach lurched oddly. Even as one half of Heimerdinger’s two favourite postgrads, Jayce couldn’t have had much left over from his Academy stipend, and yet he wanted to treat Viktor to sweetmilk at two in the morning. “If it’s open,” Viktor said, and watched Jayce’s whole face light up. How could anyone refuse eyes like those? “Let me get my coat.”
By the time Viktor had crossed the lab to the neat little coat rack beside the door, Jayce had already shoved his huge arms into his sleeves and was buttoning up his battered old jacket. He lifted Viktor’s black woollen coat off the hook and held it up for him, one arm at a time. Viktor’s lips twitched into a lopsided smile and he ducked his head. “Thank you, Jayce. You know…” he added and Jayce paused nervously halfway through hoisting Viktor’s coat up to sit on his shoulders, “I’m not one of those romance heroines you seem to enjoy reading about. You don’t have to keep doing things for me.”
“Do you want me to stop?” Jayce asked, exactly as he held the door open for Viktor to walk through first.
Viktor eyed Jayce’s hand on the door and raised an eyebrow, and Jayce groaned. “No,” Viktor smiled. His eyes prickled and his whole body hurt, but somehow Jayce’s warm, buoyant personality made everything just a little easier. “Did you make any progress today?”
“You mean before I faceplanted into my notes? No, not really. I’m thinking if we can bypass…” the rest of his thoughts disappeared into a huge yawn, and he licked his lips and looked at Viktor. “Tomorrow,” he said. “I’ll fix it tomorrow.”
“We will fix it tomorrow,” Viktor said.
His gait was slow, his hip and knee burning, toes of his right foot dragging on the flagstones, and when Jayce noticed, he nudged his elbow out just a fraction. Viktor’s pace stalled and he looked up into Jayce’s hazel eyes. Evidence of a fortnight of sleep deprivation and poor shaving was also writ clear on his face, but his smile was as warm and genuine as ever. Viktor wondered exactly what Jayce saw when he looked down from his great hulking height at Viktor. At two in the morning, he certainly couldn’t have looked much healthier.
With a shy answering smile of his own, Viktor tucked the fingers of his left hand into the crook of Jayce’s extended elbow and squeezed. He stayed there until Jayce handed him a takeaway cup of warm sweetmilk with a little straw sticking jauntily out of the lid.
“You’re not having anything?” Viktor asked.
“Nah. Might steel some of yours,” Jayce grinned. “Partner.”
Hey there! How about Divorce-Era angst? Maybe Jayce is hurt and ends up needing Viktor's help? n/sfw if you like. BTW I love your modern au on AO3 and it's how I found you on here
Thank you so much! This was supposed to be a drabble but it's 1.6k words of angst and soppy fluff...
Warning for a potentially fatal injury and blood at the start. Rated teen for a saucy smooch at the end.
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It really wasn’t his fault. He just couldn't catch a break.
This latest turn of unfortunate events saw him stumbling from a back alley in the Sump level with a deep gut wound that would turn fatal if he didn’t make it — make it where? There was no way he could reach the lifts back to Piltover, or the Bridge from here. Not before he bled out.
His thoughts, as ever when he strayed down into the depths to test his new side-projects on the filthy, putrid air down there, turned to his former partner. Would Viktor finally finish off what the twitching shimmer-addict had started?
Only one way to find out.
Jayce didn’t have his hammer or his fancy clothes, but he knew he still stood out from the rest of them all the way down here. He left a bloody handprint on the slime-coated rock face as he staggered upwards towards the Entresol level, and Viktor’s home.
“If you ever come here again, Jayce Talis, I will not hesitate to kill you.”
The bite in Viktor’s words reverberated through his memory like the closed door they had been, but Jayce clung to the hope that he’d said it with his own voice, and not in that awful, modulated tone that came through his mask. Jayce had been flat on his back in the street outside, winded and slightly concussed though, so he’d not had the privilege of seeing Viktor without it.
“Please, Vik,” he prayed aloud, lurching along like a drunk while his blood spurted out through slippery fingers. “Please…”
The iron gates to Viktor’s house were shut, and Jayce’s vision blurred where he stood, sagging against them, clutching his hand to his stomach. “Viktor?” he rasped. When had his voice grown so small? He rattled the gates like a new prisoner, still full of hope and begging for freedom.
Last time he’d been here, he’d smashed them in with his hammer, sending wrought iron buckling inward like it was made of matchsticks. Now Viktor’s gates held fast against his clenched fist.
“Vik…” he wheezed. He was cold now too. So cold.
When had it got so dark? He blinked, trying to keep his eyes open.
So tired. So heavy.
A shadow shifted in the depths of the entrance alley beyond the gates, and he tried to push himself upright again at the glint of moving metal. His legs gave out and he slumped sideways into the filth.
The gates opened with the raucous yowling of rusty metal, and he heard a familiar, modulated voice. “What —? What happened?”
“Vik…” Jayce smiled, dizzy and suddenly nothing in the world seemed to matter anymore. “Love you, you know?” he slurred, still smiling. “Always have. Always will.”
“I told you I would kill you if you returned, Jayce,” the flat, hard voice said.
Was he floating? The world seemed to rock steadily from side to side. “Just wait five minutes and I’ll save you the bother,” he mumbled.
A soft ‘tsk’ that was intimately familiar to Jayce from days spent in their joint laboratory reached his ears and he huffed a laugh before darkness swallowed him up and claimed him.
A dull pain in his abdomen woke him, and the first thing he thought was that he was surprised to be thinking anything at all. The dull pain grew to a sharp throb and he looked up to find himself in what looked like a mechanic’s workshop. It was Viktor’s lab, he realised; rebuilt completely after their last devastating fight in here, though the materials were of considerably poorer quality than they’d been before. The thought crossed his mind that he could have a load of stuff shipped down here in a heartbeat to make up for it. Then he frowned.
There, sitting slumped in a battered and slightly burned armchair on the far side of the room, was Viktor. He appeared to be asleep, his long slender limbs glinting softly in the low light, with that menacing hexclaw looming awkwardly overhead like an unlit desk lamp. He had his head cradled in one hand that glinted with a purple, metallic shimmer, and his mask lay in his lap like an empty saucer. His face was as beautiful as ever, his skin pale and almost translucent, though it had been years since Jayce had actually seen it.
“Viktor?” he croaked, and his former partner twitched awake in the chair. Viktor had ever been a light sleeper.
“Jayce. You’re awake,” he stated. His voice was rasping and thin, his consonants clipped and economical. He didn’t make a move to put the mask on though, and Jayce stared openly. “It took quite a lot of stitches to patch you up, and I should stress that I am not a medical doctor.”
“With what you’ve done to yourself over the years, I’m pretty sure you’re more qualified than most of the Piltie surgeons,” Jayce said with a wry smile. He looked down at himself and realised he was bare-chested, and a patch of gauzed bandage had been secured to his lower abdomen where that git had stabbed him in the gut.
When he looked back up at Viktor, he saw the familiar dark shadows under his beautiful eyes, the melancholic downturn of his lips — now shaded slightly purple from the lingering effects of the shimmer he’d taken all those years earlier to support the mutations — and the slight upward pinch in the middle of his brows that made him look perpetually quizzical. “You look good, Vik,” he said honestly.
Viktor turned his face away and heaved himself to his feet. He still walked with a slight limp, but unless someone knew him well — the way Jayce did — it was easy to miss. He moved easily though despite it, and there was no cane or crutch in sight; no bitten-off winces; he no longer held himself like he was expecting every movement to be an effort, to hurt.
“What were you doing that got you stabbed down here, Jayce?” Viktor asked. “And without your usual… protection?”
“Not jealous, are you, Vik?” he grinned. The pain of the wound was still keen, but bearable now. “You’re the only Zaunite who gets to stab me to death, is that it?”
“That’s not — I wish —” Viktor faltered and turned away sharply. He was clad from neck to toe in his impressive armour, but for once it seemed to swamp him rather than adorn him. “I can’t do this, Jayce,” he said. “You need to leave.”
“Yeah. Sure, ok,” Jayce sighed. He swung his legs off what he now saw was a scrubbed wooden workbench, slid gingerly off, and took a moment to catch his breath. “Thank you, Viktor,” he said quietly. “For… not letting me die. I wasn’t sure where else I could go.”
Viktor still stood with his back to him, and the three ‘fingers’ of the hexclaw were clenched tightly together, as though holding a single grain of sand between them. Jayce wondered idly what would happen if they let that last grain of sand fall to the floor.
If Jayce were a gambling man, he would have bet that Viktor wasn’t about kill him now; not after going to the effort of patching him up. So he pulled on his ruined shirt — freshly rinsed out, he noticed — and crossed the room to where Viktor remained motionless. He was taller than Jayce now, but his presence after their last encounter seemed… diminished. The slant to his shoulders reminded Jayce of late nights in their lab at the Academy, when Viktor should have been abed hours ago; when Jayce would sometimes wander through the corridors in his pyjamas, much to Viktor’s chagrin, to drag Viktor out of the lab and into his bed.
“I miss you,” he said, standing right behind him. “I hate this. I hate what we’ve become.”
“I couldn’t do it,” Viktor hissed.
“I know. I know you couldn’t keep pretending that what we were doing was for the good of —”
“No,” Viktor interrupted and turned abruptly to face him, eyes blazing with all the natural fire Viktor possessed. “No, I couldn’t let you die. I couldn’t be the reason you stopped existing, Jayce.”
Jayce stood there, wide eyed, and stared up at him. He had to crick his neck a little now that Viktor had a couple of inches on him. It shouldn’t have been as attractive as it was, but he couldn’t help the way his body reacted.
Viktor watched his eyes dilate and blinked.
Jayce smiled and dared to step a tiny bit closer. He brought his rough hand to Viktor’s cheek, surprised to find him warm. Viktor had always run cold. “I never stopped loving you,” he whispered, and watched Viktor swallow hard, eyelashes fluttering. “They say you removed your own heart when you became… this.”
Minutely, Viktor shook his head. “I left it with you,” he said, his words delicately enunciated as always by his lilting accent. “I left it with you a long time ago.”
Jayce didn’t hesitate. He pulled Viktor down and crushed a kiss to his lips, melting into the old familiarity of it even as his brain struggled to process the difference in height and strength between them now. Jayce loved it. He chased more and more, giving and demanding in equal measure until Viktor pulled back, chest heaving. His golden eyes had blown dark, and his voice was wrecked and unsteady as he hissed, “Be careful with your wound, láska.”
At the sound of the old endearment, Jayce whimpered and bowed his head, resting his forehead on the cold metal plate of Viktor’s breastplate. “Vik…”
“Rest,” Viktor said quietly. “Rest. We will talk more when you’re rested.”
Quiet and docile as a lamb, Jayce let Viktor lead him through the house he’d once nearly ruined, and tried not to read too much into the fact that it was still standing, and so was he.
(I’ve got a couple more prompts - I haven’t forgotten you! I’ve been away! I’ll get to them soon, but they feature Jayce and Viktor retreating to the Undercity to work instead of being accepted in Piltover (wow, what a great premise!) and Jayce and Viktor having a naturally sarcastic flirtatious relationship, and unnerving onlookers who think they hate each other. Great prompts, and I’ll get to them soon! Thank you!)
(I also haven’t forgotten my dhampir Viktor idea either!)
