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improbable-outset · 6 months ago

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📂 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐖𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐖𝐞 𝐒𝐥𝐞𝐩𝐭

↳ 📄 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈𝐈𝐈

↳ 📄 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈𝐈

Jayce Talis x Fem!Reader

𝐀𝐎𝟑 | 𝐌𝐲 𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 3.1k

𝐂𝐖 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐓𝐖: established relationship, found family, discussion of child neglect and abortion

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: You bring home an abandoned baby from the Undercity, and Jayce helps you raise her, only to later uncover the tragic past she carries.

Jayce wasn’t new to sleepless nights. Back in his Academy days, when he was a determined student, he’d pull all-nighters in his lab, buried in research and study materials.

It was easy to lose track of time when you were working on something that consumed your whole world. Occasionally, he would fall asleep on his workbench, head resting on an open book or a half-finished blueprint.

But he never thought he’d be running on fumes because of a baby— let alone one he never expected to come home to.

The tiny bundle you have found thrust in the forefront of his mind. Hope.

The name still felt new on his tongue, but it already had a grip on him. He couldn’t shake off the guilt of his initial hesitation, the way he seemed so unsure to take responsibility. And yet, when he held her for the first time, joy he had never felt welled up inside him.

What was it you said earlier today? Paternal instincts?

It couldn’t be that. No.

Sure, he felt protective of her. And there was something else too— something primal, something deeper.

But calling it paternal? A fatherly instinct for a baby he barely knew? That was a stretch. Maybe he was overthinking. Maybe he was just tired.

He was tired.

Hope had woken up crying throughout the night, her small but persistent wails pulled him out of his sleep again and again. You would always be the one to soothe her, whisper soft reassurance in the dim light of the bedroom. Yet still, he hadn't got any rest.

“Jayce.”

Viktor's voice echoed, but it didn’t register.

“Jayce,” he repeated, sharper. “Are you listening?”

He jolted upright, dragging a hand down his face. He had been so lost in thought, so focused on keeping himself together, that he hadn't even realised Viktor was speaking.

“Er, yeah. Sorry, I was just…thinking about the upcoming project,” he said, scrambling for an excuse. He shifted in his chair, hoping Viktor wouldn’t notice the exhaustion etched in his face and the deepened shadows beneath his eyes.

But Viktor had known him for years. And Viktor was nothing if not perceptive, even as he stood a few feet away in the lab.

“You look terrible,” he said dryly, though the concern was beneath the sarcasm. “Are you getting any sleep at all?”

“I’m fine, I just…have a lot on my plate right now.”

Viktor’s gaze lingered for a moment, his eyes narrowing slightly. He stepped closer, the slow taps of his cane hitting the floor, and tilted his head.

“A lot on your plate?” he echoed. “Since when does that include sleepless nights and looking like you’ve wrestled with a storm.”

Jayce exhaled through his nose, glancing away. He should’ve listened to you when you told him to take a nap before leaving the house.

Instead, he insisted he was fine. Now, with Viktor clearly seeing through him, he was starting to regret it.

Viktor crossed the room and took a seat, resting his cane on the workbench. “You can’t pour from an empty cup, Jayce. You need to rest if you want to stay productive,” his voice grew softer, lacking his sarcasm from earlier.

“I know, I know,” Jayce sighed, running a hand through his hair. “But there’s so much to do. And there’s the project.”

“And is there…anything else?”

Jayce paused.

It wasn’t because he didn’t trust Viktor— far from it. He trusted him with his life, especially after Viktor had saved his.

But this was different. Hope was something monumental, something that could shift the course of his life before he’d even have the chance to fully process it himself.

A decision like this— taking in a child and raising her— wasn’t just something he could drop in a conversation, not when he hadn’t even kept his own family in the loop— his mother.

And there was a risk. If the wrong person caught wind of it, if whispers started to circulate through the Piltover’s elites, it could put his position as a Councillor in jeopardy.

Or worse, put you at risk of danger. People would talk, they always did. He needed to keep this under wraps for now.

“It’s just stress…I’ll be alright,” Jayce finally said, forcing a small dismissive shrug.

Viktor didn’t look entirely convinced, but he didn’t press further. Instead, he switched the subject, tilting his head slightly.

“You haven’t been taking your work home with you, have you?”

Jayce huffed a quiet laugh. “You know she won’t let me do that.”

“Yes. That is true.” Viktor’s lips tugged in amusement. “She does keep you in check.”

Jayce smiled at that. You did, in more ways than one.

“But Progress Day is not too far,” he continued, his voice returning to its usual pragmatic tone. “And we still have a great deal to finish.”

“Right…Progress Day.”

Piltover’s Progress Day— a grand celebration of innovation and advancement. A day filled with fairs, games, and speeches about the future.

It was a month away, but it loomed in Jayce’s mind like a ticking clock. He had even been appointed by Heimerdinger to give a speech once, before he met you.

You had never attended, though. Even after you and Jayce got together, you had been reluctant. He understood why— growing up in the Undercity, an event celebrating Piltover’s greatness didn’t hold the same meaning for you.

And though he would never prod the issue, he had always wished, just once, that you’d go with him.

Would you go this year? He doubted it. Not with Hope now in your care. And even if you decided you wanted to, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to risk it. The last thing he wanted was people asking questions.

His thoughts drifted back to you and Hope.

What were you doing right now? Was Hope fed, warm, and happy? Of course she was, she had you. You had already done this for two days alone before he even stepped in.

But how long until the real weight of it truly settled in?

Because he could already feel it— the responsibilities, the sheer enormity of it pressing on his chest, even here in his lab. The realisation that this wasn’t just a temporary decision, or a passing moment that will settle back to normalcy.

This will spin your relationship off its axis.

And once that feeling caught up to you, what then? Or had it already hit you, and you were calm and collected for the baby’s sake?

The thought lingered, as the hours dragged on. Time felt sluggish, each minute seemed to stretch into eternity. His body running on empty, exhaustion creeping into every fibre of his being. As much as he loved his lab— his work and the hum of innovation— he wanted nothing more than to go home.

His eyes burned with fatigue, his vision slightly blurring on the edge. But he pushed through and kept his hands steady as he tried to solder a delicate circuit.

The one task that usually felt routine suddenly felt like wrestling with uncooperative materials. Every wire and connection resisted him.

By the time the sun had started to set, casting an orange glow through the towering windows, Jayce knew he had done all he could for the day. He packed up, locking the room behind him, and finally made his way home.

The sight that greeted him when he stepped inside was one he was going to have to get used to now— not that he was complaining. The house was enveloped in a peaceful atmosphere, the kind that settled in his bones with a new newfound beacon that was waiting for him.

You sat curled up on the couch, cradling Hope in your arms, your arms angled protectively around her. She squirmed against your chest, her hands twitching in her sleep. The warmth of the moment settled into him.

This was real.

His home. His family.

He could already imagine the room filled with toys scattered across the floor— that’s if it gets to that stage.

He stepped closer, leaning down to press a soft kiss on your lips before his eyes fell back on the baby.

“I was just about to feed her before putting her to bed,” you said softly, careful not to disturb Hope.

Jayce studied the baby for a moment, before looking back at you. “Let me do it.”

“You sure? Aren’t you tired?”

“I am,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “But I still want to bond with Hope.”

It was the truth. He was tired and his body was begging to flop onto bed. But the pull he felt earlier was there again and it was stronger than ever.

He wasn’t just doing this because it was expected of him. He wanted to do this.

You handed Hope to him carefully, watching as he adjusted her in his arms with growing ease. His movements were still shaky, but he was learning— slowly. You rose from the couch and headed to the kitchen, leaving him to hold her close to his chest.

Jayce followed, eyes flickered between you and Hope as you prepared her bottle. When you handed it to him, he returned to the couch, settling into the cushions as he carefully guided the bottle to her mouth.

Just like last time, she hesitated at first, her tiny lips parting but not latching on. He tried to mimic the way he had seen you do it again, remembering to be patient.

After a few attempts, she finally started feeding, her delicate fingers twitching against his hand. For someone so small, her presence was already changing everything and was making her way in his heart.

Her eyes fluttered open again, greyish-silver irises meeting his own for the briefest moment. The colour struck him.

Who had she inherited that from? Her mother? Her father? The thought unsettled him in a way he had expected.

Hope's gaze drifted elsewhere, still unfocused, but when her eyes landed on him again, something in his chest tightened. Even if she didn’t fully understand the world around her yet, he could feel her quiet trust, the silent dependency.

“I’ve been thinking…” he started, still unsure how to express what was on his mind.

You glanced up from where you sat besides him. “Go on.”

“It’s about Hope’s parents.” He frowned slightly, shifting his hold on her. “Do you know anything about them at all? Why they abandon her?”

The thought had always crossed his mind from the moment you brought her home, but now it gnawed at him. The more he held her, the more he saw the little details that made her unique— the soft curls of her fingers, the way her nose scrunched slightly as she fed, the quiet sigh she let out between sucks.

You sighed, fiddling with your fingers on your lap. You didn’t meet his gaze but your expression held a hint of melancholy. As if the question was difficult to answer.

“My guess is as good as yours, Jayce. I found her in a box with the note, that’s it. No name, not explanation, nothing…”

Jayce's jaws tightened as he looked back at the baby in his arms and the situation she was forced into. Hope suckled at the bottle, completely oblivious to the weight of the conversation around her. That only made it worse.

“I don’t understand why anybody would do this to her,” he said, voice thick with a quiet rage. “She didn’t deserve to be left like that.”

“I know…” you murmured. “But I’m sure her mother had her reasons, even if nothing excuses this.”

“Maybe,” Jayce conceded. “Or maybe they never planned on having her at all. But things changed…and this was the only option they thought they had.”

The words left a bitter taste in his mouth. It made him sick to even consider that possibility— that Hope was never wanted to begin with.

For a while, the only sound in the room was the quiet suckling of the bottle, her breaths steady against her chest.

Jayce spoke again, his voice quieter this time. “Do you think she was purposely left to die?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “But whoever left her behind, they still put a note with her. That must mean something, right?”

Jayce wasn’t sure. Maybe it was guilt. Maybe it was an afterthought. Maybe it was just a meaningless scrap of paper to show some consideration.

“Do you think we’ll ever find out?” he asked.

“About her parents?”

Jayce nodded.

“I don’t know…and honestly, I’m not too sure if knowing will make things better or worse.”

Your words sent a cold chill down his spine. But you were right. It was a dangerous road to go down. Hope's past wasn’t just a mystery but a wound you had no idea how deep it ran.

As much as Jayce wanted to believe that there was an explanation, the truth might not be something you were ready to face.

Because if her mother had the heart to abandon her in a box, then what else had she been capable of?

For now, he pushed the thought away. All that mattered was that Hope was here and she was safe. As long as she was in his arms, Jayce would do everything in his power to make sure she had a good life.

Hope finished off her milk, her mouth going slack as Jayce gently pulled the bottle away. Just like before, he propped her up on his lap to burp her, rubbing slow circles on her back. The milk was already having its effect, making her eyelids droop and her body relax under his touch.

Jayce stifled a yawn. Watching Hope drift off to sleep reminded him of his own sleepiness. After wiping her mouth with the muslin cloth, you both got yourselves ready for bed.

As soon as he sank into the mattress, Jayce let out a slow breath. The comforter over him felt like heaven after a long day. The warmth cocooned him as he settled in. He turned his head on the pillow, facing you with Hope nestled between you both.

The silence was peaceful— until you spoke suddenly.

“So, when are you planning to tell your mom?”

Jayce sighed at the question. He definitely hadn’t forgotten about his mother. In fact, he had been thinking about how to break the news to her all day.

“Right…about that.”

You turned towards him, propping yourself on your elbow. “Do you want me to go with you?”

“Yeah actually, I think having you there will give me moral support.”

You hummed in understanding. “How do you think she will react?”

Jayce didn’t answer right away. His mind was still a tangled knot of what-ifs, every possible reaction playing out in his head. But he knew one thing for sure— the sooner he told her, the better.

The last thing he wanted was for her to hear about it through rumours, or worse, from someone else entirely. He needed to control the narrative, to be the one who explained why he was doing this and why Hope was here to stay.

“It’s hard to tell, but I don’t want to delay it.” He shifted slightly, adjusting the blanket over himself. “I was thinking about this weekend, maybe Saturday? I’ll write to her first, tell her we’re visiting before I drop everything on her.”

“That sounds sensible enough.”

“Alright…the following Saturday it is, then.” His voice grew quieter, betraying the nerves creeping in.

You reached out, placing a hand over his and squeezing it gently. “It’ll be fine, I’m sure she won’t be irrational.”

He knew you were right. You’d met his mother before— you had an idea of the kind of person she was. She was rational and deeply protective of her son’s future. She definitely wasn’t cruel.

But still…

“That’s not what I’m worried about.”

You frowned, shifting closer to him under the covers. “Then what is it?”

Jayce sighed, tightening his grip on your hand as if grounding himself. “I know my mom is going to ask a lot of questions. Where Hope came from. What we’re planning to do long-term. If we’ve really thought this through.”

“That’s fair,” you said. “I mean, we did just make a huge decision without much preparation.”

“Exactly. And I get it, she wants to make sure I’m making smart choices, not just acting on impulse.”

You gave him a look. “Are you?”

He let out a short, dry laugh. “I’d like to think I’m doing both, thinking and feeling.”

Jayce’s gaze drifted to the ceiling as old memories resurfaced. He could still remember the day he stood before the Council, awaiting his punishment for his illegal experiment with magic.

He had been ready to face exile, but his mother had stepped in to appeal to the Council on his behalf. She defended him, arguing that he was only trying to help people. Because of her, his punishment was lessened— expulsion from the Academy instead of banishment from Piltover.

Though, what really lingered with him the most wasn’t the Council's judgment, rather the conversation he had with his mother afterwards. The relief she felt before telling him to let go of magic.

The quiet plea in her eyes, asking him to choose something stable, something that wouldn’t risk everything he had built.

At the time, he was disappointed, even hurt, that she didn’t support his dream. He saw it as a lack of faith in him. But now, years later, he understood. She had always valued security and stability, while he was driven by ambition and discovery.

He sighed, leaned back against the pillow. He glanced at Hope briefly, her sleeping form between you. How would his mother react to seeing her?

“She’s going to worry about what this means for my career, my future. I don’t blame her.” He turned to look back at you in the dim light. “But it’s not just about me. She’s going to wonder if you understand what you’ve taken on.”

“You think she’ll think I regret this?”

Jayce shook his head. “No, not regret. I think she’ll be worried about how much harder this makes things for you, compared to me.”

You were silent for a moment, letting his words sink in. Even though his mother had been nothing but kind to you, Jayce knew you weren’t blind to the concerns she must have. He was already juggling his responsibilities as a councillor and his work as a scientist.

And now, with Hope in the picture, things were only going to get more complicated.

“We’ll just be honest. I’ll tell her the truth— that I do understand and I have thought about it,” you said followed by a yawn, the weight of the day catching up to you “But I don’t want to think too deeply about it now.”

“You’re right,” Jayce agreed, voice softening. “Let’s get some sleep before this one wakes up for her feed.”

Reaching for the bedside lamp, he switched it off, plunging the room into darkness. The last thing he registered before slumber took over was the quiet sound of Hope’s breathing.

I always update this series on ao3 first. So if you want early access to the next chapter, you can find it here

#★— ayrus writes #arcane #arcane x reader #jayce talis #jayce talis x reader #jayce the defender of tomorrow #jayce talis arcane #arcane jayce #arcane fanfic #jayce talis x you #jayce talis x y/n #arcane jayce talis #arcane fic #jayce x reader

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improbable-outset · 6 months ago

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📂 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐖𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐖𝐞 𝐒𝐥𝐞𝐩𝐭

↳ 📄 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈𝐈

↳ 📄 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈

Jayce Talis x Fem!Reader

𝐀𝐎𝟑 | 𝐌𝐲 𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 3.9k

𝐂𝐖 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐓𝐖: established relationship, found family, child neglect, adoption,

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: You bring home an abandoned baby from the Undercity, and Jayce helps you raise her, only to later uncover the tragic past she carries.

‘Please take care of her. I can’t keep her anymore’

The words on the crumpled note hadn’t left your mind since you found it, and now as Jayce read them, you watched his reaction carefully.

The first time you saw those words, standing in the alleyway with the cold biting at your skin and the baby tucked in the box, they filled you with an indescribable feeling. A sinking weight on your chest, a quiet fury.

Her mother hasn’t left any extra blankets. No food. No keepsakes.

Only two sentences, scrawled in rushed, panicked handwriting— like she couldn’t get away fast enough.

Now, watching Jayce’s reaction with fresh eyes, you saw how heavily the words weighed on him. His brows furrowed, his fingers gripping the edge of the paper like he was trying to make sense of something beyond senseless.

“What’s with that look?” you asked.

Jayce exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over his face. “This is… a lot. All of it.”

His gaze moved over the room, taking in the sight of the baby still sleeping beside you on the bed, the bottles on the nightstand, the new makeshift changing station you’d set up overnight.

You didn’t miss the surprise look in his face when he first noticed all the baby supplies the night before— the realisation set in that this wasn’t some impulsive decision.

“I wanted to show you the note when you got home yesterday.”

Jayce's eyes flicked to yours, his tone betraying his exhaustion and confusion. “Why didn’t you?”

“Because we were already arguing.” You shifted your weight, glancing toward the baby. Her chest rising and falling peacefully. “I didn’t want to make things worse.”

Jayce looked down at the note again, his jaw tightening. “I see…”

Silence settled between you both. Heavy and full of uncertainty.

It has been a long night, and neither of you have gotten much sleep. You were exhausted, not just from the baby waking every few hours, but from the weight of everything on your shoulders.

Jayce had tossed and turned besides you, restless and lost in thoughts he hadn’t spoken out loud. And now, reading the note, things didn’t feel any clearer. If anything, they felt even more complicated.

Jayce leaned back against the pillows, running a hand through his sleep-tousled hair. Once, you would’ve taken in the moment to admire him like this— soft and unguarded in the morning light. But not today. Not when you were both too drained to appreciate the small, familiar things.

“I can’t believe she was still alive in that box.” His voice is quieter now. “God knows how long she was out there, waiting for someone to find her.”

There was something different in his tone, something that made your stomach clench. A shift from last night’s argument. Less resistance, more contemplation.

The gears were still turning in his head, still trying to make sense of it all. But you’ve already made peace with your decision.

Your arms tightened around yourself. “She was lucky I got there in time.”

“Yeah.” Jayce paused and let out a slow breath. “And now… you don’t want to send her back out there.”

Your fingers curled slightly. “I won’t send her back out there.”

Jayce’s brows pull together, conflict in his expression. “I don’t want that either, but—”

“Jayce.” You turned to face him fully. The look on his face told you he already knew where this conversation was heading— but that didn’t mean he was ready for it. “I’m not asking you to help me raise her. I won’t force you into this. But please—don’t ask me to give her up to an orphanage.”

He swallowed hard, his throat bobbing slightly.

“I…” his eyes flickered towards the baby, impossibly small, curled up in her swaddle.

“Look at her.” Your voice softened. “She’s so fragile.”

Something shifted in Jayce’s expression.

“I’m looking…” he murmured. His shoulders sagged slightly, the tension in his frame easing a little. “We’ll figure something out.”

You studied his face, searching for doubts, for any more resistance. It was still there, but it was tangled with something else that you couldn’t name

Something softer.

You stepped closer. “Do you want to hold her?”

Jayce hesitated, his gaze flickered between you and the baby. You could see the conflict in his eyes— the weight of uncertainty consuming him. But underneath it, there was something else that you couldn't decipher.

Letting out a shaky breath, he finally answered. “…yeah.”

Settling on the bed, he waited for you to place the baby in his arms. His movements were stiff, uncertain, but still careful— like he was aware how fragile she was. You guided him, adjusted his arms and made sure he supported her head properly.

The baby looked so tiny against him, barely filling the space between his broadhands. Watching him like this— cautious, focused, gentle in a way you’ve never seen before— made your heart thud a little harder in your chest. Something you hadn’t felt in a while.

For a moment, a quiet awe settled on his expression as he stared at her. Then, the baby stirred in his arms, letting out soft whimpers. You recognised the signs immediately.

“She’s getting hungry,” you murmured.

Jayce looked up at you, hesitancy flickered in his eyes. “I don’t know…I’ve never done this before.”

“I’ll show you.”

Without waiting for the baby's cries to escalate, you headed to the kitchen. The last two days had changed something in you— sharpened your instincts you never knew you had. Every fuss, every tiny shift, you feel like you could sense it before it fully happened.

As you prepared the bottle, you realised how fluid your movements were compared to the first time. You’ve done this so many times in just two days, and it was already becoming second nature.

This has been a learning experience for you. And even if you never wanted to pressure Jayce into helping, a part of you wished he would.

When the bottle was finally ready, you quickly checked the temperature, then rushed back to the bedroom.

“Here you go! Breakfast,” you handed the bottle to Jayce.

His hand trembled as he took it from you, fingered brushing against yours lightly. He exhaled sharply, steadying himself before glancing down at the baby.

She was starting to fuss in his arms, so you adjusted his grip, guiding him. “Tilt it a little more.. and be patient. She’ll latch on when she’s ready.”

Jayce brought the bottle’s nipple to the baby’s mouth, but she turned her head away, letting out soft, dissatisfied noises.

He frowned. “She’s not—”

“She will,” you assured him. “Give her a second.”

After a few tries, she finally latched onto the bottle, her small mouth sucking eagerly at the milk.

The room lapsed into a silence, saved for the soft sounds of her drinking, the quiet suckling, the faint rhythm of the milk flowing through the bottle's nipple.

Jayce held back a smile as he watched her, his gaze following the way her tiny feet moved back and forth as if in response to the milk filling her mouth.

You could see his confidence growing with each passing moment. The way his shoulders loosened slightly, the crease in his brows easing a little.

There was something about watching your lover— the person that you had devoted the rest of your life to— feeding a small, helpless life, a child who depended on you for everything. Seeing them nurture something so fragile, sustaining them.

It was intimate in a way you hadn’t expected.

And now, Jayce was in that position. Cradling her, bottle in hand. You started to understand.

You understood why he had looked at you the way he did last night. Almost like something disarmed in him after your heated conversation.

He gazed back at you, catching you staring. “What?”

You shook your head softly, a small smile on your lips. “Nothing. Just…you’re a natural.”

He managed a chuckle at that, a sound deep and familiar that rumbled in your chest.

“You think so?” he asked, a sense of pride and hesitation in his voice. You could tell your words had an effect on him, even if his grip on the bottle was a little shaky.

“Yeah. She already seems to trust you.”

“I don’t know about that,” he murmured, but you saw the way his expression softened as he looked down at her. But just as quickly, a slight dread crossed his face.

“I don’t know the first thing about taking care of babies” he admitted, as if his confession carried some weight “How am I supposed to…give her everything she needs.”

You knew that feeling too well. The helplessness, the doubt.

You had felt it that night you found her— when you first picked her up from the box, her cries were sharp and desperate against your chest. The fear of not knowing what to do. Of not being good enough for her.

But Jayce had you to guide him.

When you first held her, you had no one. No voice to reassure you, no steady hands to show you the way. Just you and this tiny fragile life depending on someone— depending on you— to keep her alive.

Just like Jayce, your hands had trembled when you held her. At first, instincts had kicked in before your brain even caught up. You had pulled her close, shielding her from the cold, desperate to keep her warm.

And then the realisation settled in like cold water down your back.

The panic had clawed onto you, but somehow, you managed to push through it. You had to force yourself to think logically, one step at a time.

Bring her inside. Get her warm.

And after that, everything else had escalated.

“Jayce, you’re not alone in this, remember? I’m caring for her too,” you reminded him gently. “I’ve done this alone while you were gone. But now that we have each other, we can share the workload.”

“Yeah, but what if I mess up? She’s so…small.”

Jayce’s confidence from before was starting to falter. And then, something about his words caught your attention. Not the way he said it but the words he chose.

You tilted your head, studying him. “You mess up? Not we?”

Jayce stilled. His fingers twitched slightly on the blanket wrapped around the baby, his brows furrowing only realising what he said.

“Was that how it came out, or…” you pressed gently. “Were you thinking about raising her too?”

“I don’t know…maybe,” he trailed off, thumb rubbing absently over the fabric of the blanket. Finally, after a pause— “Yeah.”

“What made you change your mind?”

“I don't know…” he said, his voice soft and sincere as he tried to search for the right words. “Maybe…maybe it's because I can't imagine letting anyone else do this. She feels...right, in my arms. Like she was meant to be here, with me…”

As his decision finally solidified, the baby finished off the last ounce of milk. Her sucking turned sluggish. You watched as her eyes fluttered, her belly now full. A little dribble of milk slipped down her chin.

Jayce lowered the empty bottle and slowly pulled it away before handing it back to you.

“Now you have to burp her,” you said.

“Burp her?”

“Yeah, to get any trapped air out of her belly.” You smiled, trying to disarm his nerves. “Sit her on your lap and lean her forward a little.”

Jayce repositioned the baby carefully, propping her against his lap. His hands— so much larger than her small frame— hovered awkwardly as he looked back at you for reassurance.

You guided him, showing him how to support her head and chest with one hand, making sure her head stayed stable.

“Now, pat her back gently.” you instructed, demonstrating the motion.

He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he placed his broad palm against her back. The first few pats were hesitant and too soft to do anything.

“A little firmer than that,” you encouraged.

He frowned. “What if I burp her too hard?”

“What?”

“What if I go too hard and I…you know…hurt her—”

Before he could spiral any further, his words were cut off and the baby let out several soft burps in quick succession. The tiny sounds were barely more than puffs of air, but she let out a content sigh afterwards.

“Did that count?” Jayce asked.

“Yeah, that counts.”

You laughed at his cautious determination, a warmth spreading through your chest as you watched him care for this new life now in your home.

“I guess…I didn’t do too badly,” he laughed softly.

You sniffed the air dramatically. “I smell something.”

“Smell something?” Jayce arched his brow. “What—”

“Is that…a newfound paternal instinct?” you teased, your lips growing to a grin when you saw the look of surprise and mild horror on his face.

Jayce blinked, caught completely off guard by your comment.

“What? No— I just…” his stammered before the baby let out a few grunts. Her face scrunched up right as a strong odour hit you both at full force

“Oh no, that’s her,” Jayce recoiled.

You burst out laughing at his expression, barely able to get the words out. “How could such a small thing produce something that smells this foul?”

Jayce held the baby at arms length, trying desperately to keep the baby’s contents from shifting. You could practically see the realisation dawn on him— the horror that you might ask him to change her. His eyes flickered back to yours, pleading.

“Here, let me. You can watch and learn,”

Relief washed over his face as he handed her off to you, though he was still grimacing at the lingering smell.

“Pass me the changing mat?” you asked, pointing towards a cabinet. Jayce found it quickly and passed it to you, his movements careful.

The smell only intensified as you set up the changing area— a station with neatly stacked diapers and wipes.

You gently unwrapped her swaddle, “P U, girl.”

Jayce stood besides you despite the olfactory assault, his eyes tracking every move you made, clearly trying to commit it to memory.

You made sure your touch was gentle as you unbuttoned her baby grow. But the second the cool air hit her skin, the baby let out a wail of protest. Her arms flailing, we face scrunching up in clear distress and clearly unhappy with being taken out of her warm swaddle.

“I know, sweetie, I know . It’ll be quick, I promise,” you cooed softly.

She continued to cry and flail, seemingly unconvinced by your words. Her small fists waved in the air, her cries sharp and insistent, as if protesting the injustice of it all.

The sound of her wails filled the room, mingled with the scent of her soiled diaper. The first time you changed her, the sheer volume of her cries had twisted something deep in your chest.

It was heartbreaking— cleaning her up while she was screaming, her small form trembling against the cold.

You could only imagine what it must be like— to go from the warmth and security of the womb of the harshness of the world, to suddenly being exposed when all she wanted was to be wrapped up and safe.

Even now, after doing it for two days, it still tugged at you. But you’d learn to push past the ache, knowing that it was only a momentary distress.

You lifted her lower body, cleaning her up before slipping on a fresh diaper and buttoning up her baby grow. The moment you wrapped her up in her swaddle again, her cries softened, then quietened to lingering sniffles until she was content.

It still fascinated you how quickly she went from a distressed bundle of tears to a calm, sleepy weight in your arms. She nuzzled against your chest, her body warmer through the layers of fabric.

Jayce watched the entire process, his expression unreadable. But as you held her close, something in his gaze softened.

He sat down in a nearby chair, eyes still glued to you and then baby, quiet and thoughtful.

“Do you really want kids?” he asked suddenly, tone soft and contemplative.

The question made you stammer, your face grew warm as you fumbled for a response.

“Are you really asking that now?” you asked. The situation alone should’ve answered enough.

Jayce chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, I guess I’m not being very tactful, huh?” A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, but quickly faded. “I just…watching you, seeing how effortlessly you handle everything got me thinking.”

When you first got together, the topic of children had barely scratched the surface. Not because it was something you avoided or didn’t want. It just never felt like the right time.

Even after moving in together, you hadn’t revisited the conversation. But if you were being honest, the thought had crossed your mind more than once.

You’d imagined it before— having a child to cherish as your own, watching Jayce step into the role of a loving father. He was always fiercely protective, naturally warm, the kind of man who gave his whole heart to the people he loved.

And now, seeing him with the baby in his arms just moments ago, it was hard not to picture it.

“I do,” you admitted, your gaze dropping to the little one nestling against your chest. “And she’s the closest I have to that right now .”

A silver of doubt crept into your mind— was this really meant for you? Were you making the right choice? But you pushed it back.

“I know…it probably sounds selfish,” you murmured.

Jayce shook his head immediately. “It doesn’t sound selfish. It sounds human.”

The room stilled for a moment before you spoke again.

“We still haven’t got a name for her yet.”

He blinked. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. We’ve just been calling her the baby this whole time.”

“Do you have any ideas?”

Jayce exhaled, shaking his head. “I wasn’t exactly preparing baby names.”

You huffed a soft laugh. “Fair point. What kind of names do you like? Anything specific in mind?”

“I don’t know…something that reflects her. Her bravery. The fact that she was lost and found. Or…new beginnings.”

“Brave…lost and found…new beginnings,” you echoed, mulling it over. “There are names like Faith, Trust, maybe even Hevan…”

Jayce brows furrowed, thinking deeply for a moment before his face lit up.

“Actually, I think I just thought of one.” He glanced at the baby and then back at you. “What about…Hope?”

Your lips parted slightly, the name processing in your head.

“She gives us hope that we’ll be good parents,” Jayce continued. “And she’s bringing new beginnings into our lives. Plus…it’s a nice name to boot.”

“Hope…” You repeated it softly, testing how it felt on your tongue. It was simple but strong, carrying the weight of new beginnings. And Jayce was right— it suited her. She had given you both something to hold onto, a hope for the future.

Jayce nodded, a smile growing on his lips “That’s a perfect name for her, don’t you think?”

“Yeah. I guess that’ll be her name from now on. Our little Hope.”

“I think she’ll have the Talis name,” Jayce added, his pride swelling in his voice as he rose from his seat. He reached out and brushed a gentle finger over her cheek. “Hope Talis.”

“Speaking of Talis…how are you gonna explain this to your mother?”

Jayce visibly winced at the mention of his mother. His shoulders tensed. “Right….good question.”

You knew that Jayce and his mother, Ximena Talis, had a close-knit bond, especially after his father’s passing. She had raised him alone, molding him into the man he was today. But she was also practical— someone who thought ahead rather than letting emotions dictate decisions.

And suddenly deciding to raise an abandoned baby, without a concrete plan or any real preparation, was a lot for any parent to process. That wasn’t something she wasn’t going to take lightly.

It wasn’t that you were expecting her to outright disapprove— Ximena wasn’t the type to reject something out of prejudice. But naturally you did expect her to ask questions. To make sure her son had thought this through.

And then, there was you.

You weren’t oblivious to the difference between you and Jayce. While Jayce was born into Piltover’s upper echelon, raised with opportunities laid before him, you had to fight every scrap of stability you had, growing up in the Undercity, where survival overweighed ambition and dreams.

Ximena never outright opposed your relationship, especially coming from a humble background. But there had always been a certain hesitation in her approval. A subtle caution— not out of cruelty or elitism. But as a mother, she wanted what was best for her son.

And after a few days of having Hope in your arms, you understood that instinct more than ever.

You suspected she worried about the world you came from. When it could mean for Jayce. For his future. And now, here you were, deciding to raise a child together. A child with no name, no past and no certainty about what the future held.

Jayce ran a hand through his hair, sighing. “She’s going to grill me, isn’t she?”

“Oh absolutely,” you said with a teasing grin. “But let’s not worry about that now.”

Laying Hope back onto the bed, you turned back to Jayce, slipping your hand around his arm. “Let’s eat. I’m starving.”

The afternoon rolled in, and Jayce had to leave, leaving you alone with Hope again. You weren’t too worried— after all, you’ve spent two days caring for her alone before he even knew she existed.

As you held Hope in your arms, you couldn’t help but notice the way she kept sniffling and whimpering, little noises of discomfort that tugged at your heart. You weren’t sure if she was just fussy or something was actually wrong. Maybe the cold air from when she was abandoned had gotten to her.

You checked her forehead— no fever. You adjusted her swaddle, making sure she was warm but not too warm, yet she still squirmed restlessly. Her hands clenched and unclenched, her breaths coming soft, uneven puffs.

Maybe she was coming down with something. That would make sense. A little congestion, a little discomfort— babies get colds all the time.

You thought about steaming up the bathroom and sitting with her in the warm air. Would that be safe for a newborn? You hesitated. You knew the basics— feeding her, changing her, keeping her comfortable— but this was something else.

Instead, you turned on the heating and sat with her in the bedroom, holding her close and letting the warmth of your body soothe her. Her whimpers quieted, but every so often, she sniffled again and her nose scrunched up.

The uneasy feeling didn’t go away. Should you tell Jayce? Would that be overreacting? You didn’t want to worry him, not if it was something as simple as a cold.

Maybe you were just overthinking. That was normal for new parents, right?

You pressed a gentle kiss on Hope’s forehead, stroking a soothing hand down her back. Whatever this was, she just needed comfort. As long as she was with you, she was safe.

I always update this series on ao3 first. So if you want early access to the next chapter, you can find it here

Part 3

#★— ayrus writes #arcane #arcane x reader #arcane jayce #arcane jayce talis #jayce talis #jayce talis x reader #jayce talis x you #jayce talis x y/n #jayce the defender of tomorrow #jayce talis fanfic #arcane fanfic #jayce talis arcane

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