Imagine Comforting Jayce After a Political Blow
Summary: Jayce suffers a defeat in Council. You console him late into the night. Your empathy opens his guarded heart. Pairing: Jayce x Reader Word count: ~1,050 Warnings: Emotional fragility
Jayce doesn’t slam the door when he comes in — but he closes it with a little more force than usual. You hear the muffled clink of his gloves hitting the table, and then silence. That kind of silence that hums with frustration, exhaustion, maybe even shame.
You wait, quietly. Give him a second to breathe. When you peek around the corner, he’s standing there in the middle of your shared space — coat half off, shoulders still tense, jaw set. He’s not looking at you. Just at the floor.
“The vote didn’t go well?” you ask softly.
He lets out a laugh, but it’s the bitter kind.
“I might’ve undone three months of progress in ten minutes.”
You step in. Slowly. “You want to talk about it?”
Jayce rubs his face with both hands. “They shot everything down. The whole proposal. Even after all the revisions, the compromises—”
He stops. Closes his eyes. His voice is a little hoarse when he adds, “And I think I made it worse by pushing too hard.”
You nod, just listening.
He finally turns to face you, and there’s that look in his eyes — not anger, but defeat. He looks younger like this. Less like a golden boy and more like someone who’s trying so hard to do the right thing and is terrified it’s not enough.
“I’m supposed to lead, and I— I don’t even know if I’m helping anymore.”
You step closer and wrap your arms around him before he can spiral further. For a moment, he doesn’t move — then his arms fold around you tightly, like he was waiting for permission to fall apart.
“You’re allowed to get things wrong,” you murmur into his shoulder. “You’re not perfect, Jayce. And you don’t have to be.”
His breath stutters. You feel it more than hear it.
“But the city—”
“The city’s not just yours to save,” you interrupt gently. “You’ve done more than most people would even dare to try. And you’ll get back up. Like you always do.”
He pulls back just enough to look at you — really look. His expression softens, just a little.
“You still believe in me?” he asks, voice barely above a whisper.
You smile, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead.
“Always.”
Later, you make tea. He sits beside you on the couch, tired and quiet, one hand holding the warm cup, the other resting over yours. There’s nothing dramatic. No big speech. Just the weight of his head finally leaning against your shoulder, and the slow, steady rhythm of your breathing together.
You don’t fix it all in one night.
But you help him start again.
And for Jayce — that’s everything.
A/N : Here's the second one. Have a good reading !
