#and said second in command is having NONE of it lol
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Hi OP, I couldn't get this post out of my head so I made a drawing, hope that's okay XD

Today on Weird Ideas My Half-Asleep Brain Has:
Sauron x Curufin and Sauron x Celegorm.
I mean…. ehhh?? Oddly enough it works??? Sauron and Curufin do share smithing as their main craft, and Sauron and Celegorm share the whole canine thing, so it isn’t too wild to assume they’d have something to bond over. Plus, both Cs would absolutely HATE the concept of “Oh No, Dark Lord hot,” so there’s no shortage of drama.
(Someone please tell me if this is good or not lol, I don’t know enough about the three Cs to tell 😅)
#curufin#celegorm#sauron#i am so sorry (no i am not)#the silmarillion#so in my head celegorn and curufin's brilliant plan to get the silmarills back#is to try their hand at seducing morgoth's second in command to get closer to him XD#and said second in command is having NONE of it lol#this is way funnier in my head i swear#my art#i don't think they would tap that. but y'know what? i wouldn't put it past them tbh#I had several fits of laughter adding the alt text to this image lmaoooo#OP you're a genius#this was done in like 15 minutes and i was laughing the whole time so the lines are a bit wonky :P#fans of the Lay of Leithian rock opera will recognize the inspiration for their outfits#sauron is not disgusted because they are getting handsy. he's disgusted at their pitiful attempts at seduction
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Lessons
˚ʚfwb!Bang Chan x fem!Readerɞ˚



˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ summary: Just a regular session of your best friend helping you learn Korean <3
˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ word count: 1.6k
˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ warnings: fem!reader, nicknames; ‘honey and good girl,’ pvssy slaps, playful ass&thigh spanking, Chris calls himself Daddy once lol, rough sex, creampie (try to pee after sex pls <3)
˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ notes: max and I spoke about this a few weeks ago and it was soo hot so I wanted to write something for it,,, but then I lost motivation for it for a while😭 anyways hope u enjoy <3
OH and thank you for 700 followers!! (im late so now so ~25 away from 800) :''') I have something planned for if/when I hit 1k hehe, Love u guys :>
DO NOT republish or translate+post my work!
After you had moved to Korea, you made it your sole goal to be completely fluent in Korean as soon as possible. You knew the basics and some vocabulary that got you through day-to-day encounters, but holding an actual conversation past introductions was rather difficult. So, this is how you found yourself in your current situation. Your best friend and fuck buddy of 2 years giving you weekly Korean lessons.
And this? This was a normal thing between you both. Sitting in his lap practicing while he sits there explaining things and kneading your thighs mindlessly. It was a normal occurrence! The only difference is you usually wore sweats or some sort of bottom that would cover your legs more. Today was one of the hotter days of the week, so you disregarded the extras and opted to only wear one of his shirts, nothing else.
His hands rubbed eagerly up and down your thighs, squeezing the flesh like he does with soft pillows. Again, it was normal, but today he seemed to be restless with his movements. You couldn’t help but let out a shaky breath when he mindlessly squeezed the flesh of your inner thigh rather roughly while he translated a word you couldn’t figure out. “What is up with you today? You’re more touchy-feely than usual.”
“Sorry haha. Had a long day so I’m fidgety.. And you know I can’t resist you in nothing but my shirt.” You only hummed in response. You believed what he said, but you also knew that he wasn’t stupid and that the apology was not for his roughness as much as it was for how riled up he knew you were getting. He was never actually sorry about being physically affectionate with you, but you both knew how you tended to get very horny when his hands were on you so desperately.
“Mmmm.. Let me play with you a little while you read, okay?” You shake your head and push your study items away, pulling a laugh from him when you mumbled out ‘Fuck that, I need you.’
“None of that hahaha. Focus on the reading, honey.” He said, placing a kiss on your cheek before leaning down and biting into your neck. You groaned and leaned back into him, grinding against him in an attempt to make him fold in your favor. He let the first few grinds pass as he left hickeys along your neck, but the second your hands cupped him through his shorts he grabbed your hips to still your movements.
“Hey.“ The commanding tone in his voice caught you off guard and had your hands immediately stop in their tracks. “Stop that. You’re going to finish reading this text and then I’ll fuck you nice and good.”
“It’s not that serious, Chris. It's just a few paragraphs, we can do it after or just skip out this week.. Plus it’s your fault I’m this horny anyways.” The attitude in your voice makes him narrow his eyes, and then he grabs your chin and angles you to look back at him.
“Watch your tone. And I’m not gonna tell you again,” His hand grabbed both of yours and placed them on the table before moving to spread your legs open for him. Then, he finishes his sentence and enunciates each word with a harsh smack to your bare cunt. “Finish. Reading. The. Article.” The last one comes off harder than the others and it pulls a squeal from you, making your hands shoot down and wrap around his wrist while your legs slam shut against his hand. He grabs from your inner knee and hooks your legs over his, keeping you spread for him, and he pulls your book closer again.
You can feel the teasing smile on his face after he places a kiss on your cheek and then speaks against it. “You only have one article left, honey. The quicker you read it, the quicker I can bend you over and fuck you into the table~” You can’t help but whine and nod. Once you look down at the material again, Chris’ hands that were previously rubbing your inner thigh move back to rub along your wet folds.
Then for what feels like the next hour, but was really just 20 long minutes, you slur out the words in front of you as best as you can. Chris’ left hand swapped between drawing circles into your clit and pinching your nipple, while his right hand shoved fingers against your walls. And every couple of minutes he would swap between kissing your neck to sucking hickeys into your collarbone. However, you weren’t allowed to cum and any time you mispronounced something or took too long to read a word, a stern slap was sent against your clit. As long as you continued to read well, he would pump 3 of his fingers in and out of you.
By the time you’re halfway through the material, your mind is foggy and you’re almost drooling on yourself from the constant edging. By the time you’re on the last sentence, your legs are shaking and you're slumped against him letting out quiet moans. Your neck and collarbone were so red from his incessant suckling, and you were desperate to get this over with. And then, when you finally finished, he stopped all movements to place a soft, congratulatory slap on your thigh and massaged your hips.
“Good girl… Now was that so hard?” With that, he hurriedly clears the desk before helping you stand and then standing himself. The chair you both rested on was kicked backwards and your whole world spun as he suddenly pinned you to the desk. You whined as his hand held a tight grip in your hair and pushed your face into the table. His free hand playfully squeezed and slapped at your ass a few times before you heard his shorts and boxers hit the floor.
You sighed out his name as he teased his tip through your folds, silently pleading with him to hurry it up. “Shhhhhh… ‘Atta girl. You did so well, baby. Now let me take care of you, yeah?”
He finally sunk in and nothing but low, whiny moans left your lips as you clenched around him. His free hand grabbed a handful of your ass, squeezing it in appreciation while he slowly sunk every inch he had to offer. Once he bottomed out he gave you only a little bit of time before his thrusts started, albeit slowly at first but quickly ramping up due to his own impatience. It doesn’t take long for him to change to an unforgiving and rougher pace, his hand still holding your head against the table.
“Fff-fuck.. Christopherrr-”
“Yeah yeah, baby. Daddy’s got you. ‘M nice and deep, just how you like it right?” You missed the way he smirked when you let out a desperate ‘Uh-huh’ in response, but you could feel the way it encouraged him when his hips slammed against yours with more eagerness. He keeps this pace up for a while until he feels you tighten around him, and then he changes to slow, deep thrusts that make your eyes roll into your skull.
The hand in your hair slides on top of yours on the desk, intertwining your fingers, and he leans forward to place his forehead between your shoulder blades, “Mmmm keep squeezing me, Honey. Fffuck, juuust like that..”
When you’re tipping over the edge, he places a kiss on your sweaty skin and moans against it. “That’s it, baby. Cum for me and I’ll fill you up just how you like it, okay?” You want to nod, but everything hits you at once so you can only cry out against your desk.
As your orgasm starts to fade into overstimulation, he fixes his posture and focuses on his hip movements. A squeaky moan falls from your lips as he suddenly bottoms out and the hold on your hip tightens. He threw his head back and bit his bottom lip as he came, attempting to muffle his whiney moans. He rides out his orgasm by sometimes pulling out and snapping his hips harshly against yours.
“Fuck… If that’s how we end the studying session from now on, I might consider this payment.” He jokes.
You let out a breathy laugh and he starts to pull out slowly, pushing you into the table as he did so. You take the moment to catch your breath when you realize he’s gone quiet and there’s the light feeling of breath on your thighs. Your head snaps back and you realize he was kneeling in order to watch his cum slide down your folds.
“Hey!” you whine and place a hand on his forehead, pushing his face away only for him to resist, so you use your feet to push him harder. He laughs at your embarrassment and stands up, pulling you to sit up as well and lifting the shirt off of you. He uses it to wipe you down before throwing it into your hamper and grabbing one of his spare shirts from your dresser. He steals a kiss before covering you in the shirt, then drags you to the living room to watch a tv show together.
You two spend the rest of the night on the couch, watching tv and relaxing in each other’s warmth. It’s no surprise when soft snores are heard and you look down to see his sleeping face squished into your chest. You huff out a laugh before you snuggle him closer. Then, your eyes get heavy until they inevitably close, and you fall asleep too.
Taglist:
@jiminssluttyminx @changisworld @juskz @linohumina
#sian’s writing#skz smut#stray kids smut#stray kids x reader#stray kids imagines#bang chan smut#bang chan x reader#bang chan x reader smut#bang chan imagines#chan smut#chan x reader#chan x reader smut#chan imagines#skz x reader#skz x reader smut
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This might be kind a kind of crazy request but hear me out, but feel free to ignore if your uncomfortable. So it's Jace Talis x reader SFW but it aludes to smut. Basicaly jayce wants to gets freaky with his girl or guy or whatever, but Jayce want to watch victor get freaky with the reader, Jayce's partner. I don't want to see any smut, but I just want to see the conversation go down between Jayce and Victor, of Jayce asking Victor if we would like to smash his partner and watch them lol.
Your wish is my command, darling. Sit back and let Mommy do her thing 🤍 (Also, tagging this as NSFW since it uses strong language, and heavily eludes to is directly about cucking.)
Jayce asking you to cuck him w/ Viktor | Flash
Pairings: Jayce Talis x Reader x Viktor
Pronouns: None used for Reader. Can be read as GN!!
Rating: NSFW, 18+ MDNI !!!!!
Word Count: 447
Tags: Cuckholding, Implied M/M (if you squint), Heavy implications of sex (duh), maybe slight OOC Jayce (also, if you squint), slight Sub!Jayce (if you REALLY REALLY SQUINT)
Notes: I have yet to watch S2 because I already can’t handle the heartbreak I know is waiting around the corner for me. So this is written with S1 Viktor and Jayce!!
Also, my first request!!! EEEE!! I hope you like it!! I wrote this so fast cause I was so excited and had nothing else to do hehehe xo
I ALSO KNOW YOU ASKED FOR THE CONVO TO BE BETWEEN VIKTOR AND JAYCE— WHICH ILL DO SOON, TOO, AS A PART 2!! But I liked this idea better ansjdkdkskkkkk for now!!
“…What?” You ask, bewildered.
“I know— I know it’s a weird request. But. I don’t know. I just think it would be hot to watch you… y’know… get fucked by someone else. And— I mean. It’s not like there’s anyone I trust more than Viktor—“ Jayce spoke quickly, a hint of embarrassment lacing his words as he let out a nervous chuckle, his fidgeting betraying his best efforts to exude a calm facade.
He swallowed tightly, his nerves making him feel exposed and helpless, like a child left alone in the dark.
“So. Let me get this straight. I just want to make sure I’m hearing you right. You want Me— And— Viktor, to fuck… While you watch?” You ask plainly.
Jayce swallowed once more, his nerves spiraling as he struggled to hold himself together.
“That is what I said… yes.” He mutters, scratching the back of his neck.
You stare at him, dumbfounded. The idea itself doesn’t catch you off guard—not really. In fact, it stirs something exciting within you. It’s a little unconventional, sure, but you’re not opposed to exploring what could lie ahead for your sex life with Jayce. You might enjoy letting him take the lead most of the time, but there’s something about the way he’s dancing around this topic in particular— too nervous to be bold—that sparks a fire in your gut.
“Hmm.” You hum softly, a hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of your mouth.
“Is it just because you wanna see your boyfriend naked~?” You tease, your hands resting lightly on his chest as you look up at him, your gaze heavy with playfulness, smoldering as always.
Jayce stammers harder than before.
“I- wh- No. Pfft. It’s just- I just-..” He can’t even continue his stammering before you kiss him. It was a soft and chaste one, yet needy in its own way, and above all—understanding.
After several long seconds, once you sense his nerves start to settle, you slowly pull away, the tension lingering in the space between you.
“We can do that.” You say softly, giving him one extra peck to the lips.
“Really?” He queries, unsure of if you’re being truthful.
You emit a gentle chuckle.
“Yes, my love… I’m open to it.” You explain, running your hands along his chest… Over his vest… and down the length of his tie. You felt him shudder beneath your wandering hands.
“Why don’t you ask Viktor, and if he’s open to it, we can try… let’s see… tonight, hmm?” You ask, leaning in and nibbling his ear ever so teasingly.
After a long pause, Jayce finally speaks again, his voice quieter now, as if weighing his words more carefully.
“I already asked him. He said yes.”
#jayce talis#Viktor arcane#arcane#arcane smut#Jayce x reader smut#Jayce Talis x reader smut#Jayce Talis x Viktor#vikjayce#vikjayce smut#Viktor x reader smut#Viktor x reader smut arcane#arcane x reader#arcane x reader smut
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⋆ ˚。⋆౨ৎ˚ Champagne Problems
♥ masterlist | request rules | 12 days of ficmas
♥ pairing: charles leclerc x fem!reader
♥ synopsis: the two of you end up at a party with different intentions
♥ wc: 2k - as always none of the pictures are mine
♥ warnings: swearing, angst, and alcohol (drink responsibly please lol) !!!
♥ a/n: TONS of angst in this fic so get ready lol <3 i've been wanting to put out this fic for SO long you don't understand. tagging bestie @theonottsbxtch
Charles was head over heels in love with you—it was a shame, really.
You sat on your shared king sized bed in a sparkly dress, observing your boyfriend as he slipped on a gold watch.
“We need to leave soon mon amour,” he said, wandering over to you and kissing your cheek. “We don’t want to be late, do we?”
You nodded and adjusted the jewelry on your hand.
Charles folded the cuffs on his sleeve, “You alright?”
“Mhm,” you nodded with a fake smile.
You hadn’t seen Charles in months because of his work. Ironically the first place he wanted to take you was a gala... For his work.
The two of you met because of your love for F1. The narrative of Ferrari brought you together and despite his promises to be there for you, he always left them unfulfilled.
You were alone. Way too often. Left by yourself to take care of Leo and be his wag.
You and Charles wandered outside the apartment to his car. He opened the door for you—like a gentleman. But you couldn’t shake this melancholic feeling whenever you’re around him.
-
”Hey, where’s Charles?” Arthur, your boyfriend’s younger brother asked with a smile.
You shrugged, taking a sip of your drink, and gazing at the room full of talkative people. The second you got there he wandered off to find Pierre. You couldn’t even blame him. This was for business after all.
”Hm, that’s odd. I’d expect him to be with you.” he scrunched his nose. “I remember one time last year—he was so excited to come home for winter break and see you. He would talk about you all day to me on the phone,” Arthur chuckled.
You gave him a faint smile. That was the Charles you fell in love with. Alas, he was across the room talking to someone else’s girlfriend.
“Well, let me know if you see him. I’ll see you in a few weeks for Christmas, yeah?”
You swallowed hard, pausing before a response.
“Yeah, yeah of course,” you smiled with a nod.
“Great, Maman said she already got you gifts,” he laughed. “I’ll see you around Y/n.”
He nudged your shoulder with an infectious smile, wandering off with a drink in hand.
God, why did this have to hurt so fucking much.
-
“Thank you all for being here,” a man said into a microphone, commanding the room to silence. “It has been an incredible season, but now we must start planning for the next one. Thank you to all our sponsors who are able to make this happen and congratulations to all that we have done this year.”
He raised his glass of champagne, leading everyone to follow and clink theirs together. You sat at a round table with your closest friends from the industry, Pierre and Kika as Charles got up to ask the man at the front of the room something. He came back with the microphone in hand and turned it on.
He stared down at you, eyes peering lovingly into your soul.
“Y/n… you are the most beautiful, kind, intelligent woman I have ever met,” he spoke into the mic, elicting a few ‘awh’s’ from the crowd and drawing at least a hundred eyes to you.
Charles slowly bent down, grabbing something out of his suit pocket.
Your eyes widened and you tried to say something but you couldn’t. Every word was trapped in your mouth, despite your jaw being on the floor. Plenty of gasps and whispers came from the room. You could see Kika’s eyes light up, clearly ecstatic for you.
“I don’t really have a whole speech planned,” he laughed softly. “All I can really say is how much I love you… Will you marry me?”
He flicked the ring box open, revealing a gold ring with a huge diamond.
You paused, trying your best to take in everything that has happened before shaking your head.
“Charles… can we talk about this somewhere else?” you whispered.
Charles' expression dropped instantly. He knows what that really means.
More gasps. More gossip.
Clearly the whole room knew what it meant too.
“Is she fucked in the head?” you heard someone from the crowd whisper.
Followed by, “If she won’t marry him I will,” and “What a shame.”
”I’m sorry Charles, I’m gonna get a Lyft.” you whispered, squeezing his hand.
Kika looked at Pierre completely stunned. This was certainly not how the two of them thought the night was going to go. This was certainly not how you thought the night was going to go.
Kika’s heels clicked on the tile floor as she ran after you, pushing the two glass doors open to find you sprinting down the long set of stairs.
“Y/n, wait!” she shouted after you.
You sat at the bottom step, waiting for your ride to arrive.
She stopped beside you, “I can drive you home,” she mumbled.
“That’s alright, I already paid for it.”
She sat down beside you and put a warm hand on your shoulder.
“Are you okay?” she whispered.
You grabbed her hand gently, feeling the coldness of her gold rings. You shook your head no.
She wrapped an arm around your shoulder, forcing your head to rest on her shoulder.
She kissed your head sweetly, “It’s going to be okay,” she whispered in your hair.
-
You tossed your things on a table right next to the front door and kicked off your heels. You strut over to your kitchen and opened the fridge in hopes to find more alcohol. You were already probably drunk on Dom Perignon and your own tears, but with everything going on you might as well try to forget the horrendous night.
You grabbed a small glass from a cabinet and closed the fridge door, flinching when you saw Charles standing in the dark.
“Jesus Christ, Charles…” you whispered, pouring yourself some straight Vodka.
You braced your hands on the side of the marble counter, closing your eyes. Maybe if you close them tight enough he’ll disappear.
You sighed, “I don’t know how to start this conversa-“
“You said no?” he whispered. You could hear the heartbreak in his words.
You swallowed hard, looked around the room—anywhere but his eyes.
“I never said no…” you trailed off.
“But you meant no, right?”
You thought about marrying him before. A lot, actually. Racing, Traveling, Family. But there was always one thing missing from every daydream. And that thing was Charles.
You can’t follow him around the country for his job and even if you did—is that who you wanted to be? Just the wife of Charles Leclerc?
“I don’t think you can truly be committed to this relationship. This isn’t what I need, and that’s okay.”
“I can't truly be committed?” he scoffed. “I'm not truly committed enough to get down on one knee?”
Your relationship this past year wasn’t what you wanted. But one day it will be what someone else wants, and that’s what he deserves.
“C’mon Y/n, I love you-“ he muttered.
“Love isn't always enough,” you whispered, barely loud enough for him to hear.
Ah, the painful truth.
You watched as his face dropped, fully taking in the cruelness of your words.
“Charles, I’m sorry…” you whispered, tears forming in your eyes.
“Just go. Dégage de chez moi, I don’t want to see you right now.” (translation: get the fuck out of my house) he muttered harshly.
-
It’d been a year since you last saw him. That night you packed up all your things as he slept at Arthur’s. You were gone by the time he got home.
You still spent time in the F1 scene. You had friends there too, but it still felt a little cruel. You didn’t fall out of love, at least not with someone like Charles—that doesn’t happen.
If the circumstances were different you might have been married. You would’ve had a beautiful ring, a beautiful family, and a beautiful man.
“Y/n,” Kika shouted through a laugh, half sprinting in her heels. Her right hand settled on your bicep and her left took your forearm, yanking you towards a group of women.
“C’mon, I haven't seen you in months,” she said, causing you to crack a smile. You rolled your eyes and slipped off your bar stool, ready to get a little tipsy with your friends. She was right. It had been way too long since you had a girls night. The last one was before you lost your status as a wag.
Today it was you, Kika, and Rebecca—all in elegant outfits that perfectly fit your vibes. Kika in a black long sleeve, off the shoulder neckline number, Becs in a sparkly red one that she luckily got to keep after modeling, and you in a short white satin dress with spaghetti straps and some matching white heels.
“You look like you need a drink,” Rebecca said, looking you up and down.
You sighed, “I haven’t been to an F1 event since you know…”
She rolled her eyes, “That's exactly why you need a drink. Forget about him and have fun with us. Your favorite sport should not be attached to the memory of a man.”
Great point.
“Come here,” she dragged you back to the bar Kika pulled you from.
She ordered three martini’s on the rocks, extra olives.
She handed you one of the glasses, “We’re going to meet up with Lily M and Carmen in about an hour alright? We’ll be out of this place in no time and you won’t even think about you know who.”
“Where are we going?” you asked, sipping the drink with your eyebrows raised.
“It's a surprise,” Kika said with an eye roll as if to say “duh”.
You spent the next hour drowning in new conversations and shots. Sure you were at someone’s work party, but it’s not like you had to be professional. No one seemed to give a shit what Charles’ “Ex Wag” was doing.
“Carmen and Lily are outside, are we ready to go?” Rebecca asked, peering up from her phone.
“Yeah, I just need to find the bathroom and then we can go,” you lied, grabbing your clutch off the circular table.
You wanted to step outside and get a quick bit of fresh air before you returned to the group. They were doing something amazing in order for you to move on from your past relationship, but all you could think about was something you shouldn’t be.
It's been a year, you should be over him, right? Too bad the pain didn’t stop at Charles. It was his whole family. God, you missed Arthur so much. You missed fighting with him about what Christmas movies to watch and hanging out in the Ferrari garage together. You missed Lorenzo and his older brother-like wisdom. You missed Pascale and how she welcomed you with open arms into the family. Fuck, you felt like a traitor.
You sighed and wandered off onto the balcony, picking at the rhinestones on your purse. You leaned over the railing, letting the cool wind kiss your skin.
“Haven’t seen you in a while,” an accented voice said from behind you. You would recognize it anywhere.
Charles took his place beside you, avoiding eye contact. It took a good minute before you were able to respond.
“I- uhm… I heard you and your new girlfriend broke up. I'm sorry,” you muttered. What an odd way to start this conversation. You weren’t even sure if it was true, you heard it in a tabloid.
He hummed, “I suppose love wasn’t enough to save us.”
Ouch.
You scoffed, “Yeah I guess not.”
The silence was loud.
“Sorry,” he whispered in a change of tone. Maybe even a change of heart. “It’s good to see you again.”
“Yeah,” you whispered back, unenthusiastic.
“The family misses you.”
You smiled slightly. That was good to hear. “You can tell them I miss them too.”
“...I miss you.”
He placed his hand on top of yours slowly, gently rubbing his thumb across yours. His cold silver rings brought flashbacks to your mind.
You looked up at him, tears begging to fall from your lashes but you kept it together; at least until he was gone.
You squeezed his hand like you used to, “‘l’ll see you around, Charles.”
You had to remind yourself why you said no everyday. It didn’t matter if you loved him and it didn’t matter if he loved you. You won’t settle for second in his life.
✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧
taglist; @sainzzreputaticn @theseerbetweenus @yawn-zi
#𝒍𝒊𝒗'𝒔 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒌𝒔 ౨ৎ#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc x you#charles leclerc x fem reader#charles leclerc#charles leclerc fanfiction#charles leclerc fanfic#f1 imagine#f1 fanfic#f1 x reader#f1 x you#f1 angst#charles leclerc angst#f1 smau#formula 1 x reader#f1 x y/n#f1 fic#formula 1 fanfic#formula 1 fic#formula one fanfic#formula one fic
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HEAD-TO-HEAD (part II/?)
Summary: Joe thought she was pretty. Had he just said that, things might have been different for them. Maybe they wouldn't have gone head-to-head at each other for three years like it was a contest.
Pairing: Joseph Liebgott x Reader
Genre: angst splattered with fluff/rivals to lovers
Tags:
Head-to-head: @derersketnoget
Band Of Brothers: @fernando-jpg @chubbypotatoepie @tvserie-s-world @clumsy-wonderland @lordndsaviorwinters
Permanent taglist: @elia-the-bibliophile @randomparanoid @karlthecat15722 @thebutchersdaughtersblog @amourtentiaa @comfort-reads
Warnings: language, mild allusions to violence? Idk this is surprisingly mild (for now lol)
A/N: in case you couldn't tell, this chapter came out of the notes I had written down for "Poison In Your Coffee". It's one of the snippets I was DYING to flesh out, so here's to a little self-indulgence from time to time. Enjoy<3
Head-to-head masterlist
Band of Brothers masterlist
Rogue-durin-16 masterlist
I noticed.
My eyes didn't miss Liebgott's rushed half turn when we were dismissed after our Friday night march. It stood out to me; he didn't wait for anyone, not even Grant or Tipper.
I figured he was just eager to get to the barracks after a long day and didn't think much of it.
At least until our Commanding Officers retreated each to their own quarters, and Talbert hurried to fall into step with Luz, a few feet ahead of me and Shifty. I didn't catch much, but the hushed words 'beaten up' from Tab and 'again' from Luz as the latter tentatively explored the faces surrounding them stirred suspicion in me.
"George." Calling his name was enough to make the two of them slow their pace with mildly concerned faces, allowing me and Shifty to join them.
"You were marching with Liebgott, right?" I nodded in response to Luz's question, Talbert's inquisitive gaze on me. "You saw where he went?"
"Looked like he was headed to the barracks." The way both men scanned the moving crowd of soldiers made me become unsure of my own reply.
"He took a turn." Shifty corrected me, motioning ahead of us before taking off his helmet. "Second on the left."
"What the fuck's his game?" George complained, swinging his rifle over his shoulder. "Malark— hey," he stepped in the ginger's way, making Penkala, Muck and More come to a confused halt. "Mind helping us out?"
"What's wrong?"
"Liebgott's at it again." Tab finally disclosed the obvious, making all of us let out different levels of desperate groans and sighs. "If Lip finds out—"
"Is he tryna get himself kicked out of the Airborne?" Don rhetorically inquired with raised brows. "Where'd he go?"
"Shifty says he turned left. Y/n says the barracks."
More's eyes pivoted from Luz to me. "The barracks? Really?"
"I'm not his babysitter, Alton." I spat, taking off my own helmet to hold it under my arm. "I don't know where the fuck he went."
"Weren't you two marching together?" Muck echoed George's question whilst gesturing at Perconte to join us.
"In case none of you noticed, we don't have the smoothest conversations." I retorted. Just like Talbert was growing tired of covering for Liebgott in front of the other Sergeants, I was growing tired of getting the third degree everytime he disappeared.
"This about Joe?" Perconte chirped in, and without missing a beat, his thumb pointed behind him. "He was in a rush to get to A Company's area."
A flash of realization flashed across George's face, the back of his hand nudging Talbert. "What's his name? Bailey?"
Oh. That one asshole from Able. The one who was double Liebgott's size. Taking a peek among the group sufficed to let me know we all were on the same page.
"To hell with getting kicked out," I blurted out, worry seeping through my words. "he's gonna get himself killed."
"He's an idiot."
Penkala's words were followed by Don's decisive steps. "C'mon, we're no help here."
"Wait," I took a hold of George's sleeve. "you're gonna go to Able's barracks?"
"Got a better idea?"
"Maybe." I mused about it for an instant before striding back. "You guys be careful."
"You're not coming?"
"I'm gonna try the smarter option for a change." I replied to Don's baffled question in a slightly louder pitch before rushing to the Winters' quarters.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Word had spread faster than a forest fire over the weekend about the incident that never happened.
By the time our friends had found Liebgott on that Friday night, he was being led back into the camp —along with Bailey and three other men from A Company— by Winters, Able's First Lieutenant and a couple of privates who happened to be on patrol duty that night.
The eight boys who had gone looking for him hadn't said a word about what they knew, or how they thought the event had unfolded for Liebgott to come back to his barracks in one piece and with nothing to say.
He didn't get to leave the camp that weekend.
None of the men disclosed anything, yet somehow rumors still ran around; whether or not they carried my name in them was up in the air. Of course, it mattered little to Liebgott, who more often than not found a way to tie things back to me.
This time, though, he happened to be right.
JOE'S P. O. V.
It wasn't the violent swing of the mess hall's door that brought some of the men's attention to me, it was the fact that I stood still at the entrance, scanning the place with intent and how I zeroed in on her before making a beeline across between the packed tables.
"You couldn't mind your own business, could you?!" I didn't need to call out her name for Y/n to look up from her breakfast. The way my hands slammed her table as I leaned on across from it made her jump on her seat.
"I don't know what you're talking about." It was barely a mumble and she was trying to make it sound like a careless response.
"Cut the act. You reported me off camp." I looked away with a bitter sneer at her discomfort, my voice loud enough to draw unwanted attention. "Got my weekend pass yanked because you couldn't help being a prissy."
She shifted in place, trying not to look around too much as she struggled to stay composed. "Maybe you shouldn't have been sneaking around where you don't belong."
"That’s rich, coming from you." I snapped, leaning in for only her and the ones close to hear. "I didn’t think you'd stoop to snitching, Y/l/n."
A part of me had expected to be wrong, so when she struggled to even meet my glare and her voice turned quieter, the anger brewing inside me bubbled to the surface.
"It’s not like you didn’t bring this on yourself." She made an effort to gain control in our conversation, but her fidgeting was giving her away. "Maybe you should think twice before picking fights with people twice your size."
Wait, what?
"How the hell did you know about that?"
"You're not exactly quiet." It was an instant, almost unnoticeable, but she averted her eyes. "Don't you think?"
With suspicion, I followed her sight and found Talbert who, unlike the rest of our nosy company-mates, seemed more interested in his breakfast than in the confrontation I was provoking. "You kiddin' me?"
Another hit to the wooden table on my part visibly shook her, and it dawned on me that she wasn't only uncomfortable— she was uneasy.
"What? You want a thank you?"
"I wanted to have breakfast in peace." She snapped, her emotions tilting more towards anger now.
"And I wanted my weekend pass. Go cry about it."
She jolted up and mirrored my stance. The soldiers around her moved away as if being too close to us would get them caught in the crossfire.
"Don't worry. Next time I'll let them take a swing at you." It took longer than she would have liked for her usual temperament to start up. "See if I care."
"That's what you should've done, instead of tampering with someone else's business."
She squinted at me with an irritation that reflected mine. "I think you're just mad someone had to bail you out of trouble."
"And I think you don't know how to stay in your goddamn lane." She had that piercing look in her eyes; the one that only showed up when I had her on the ropes. "I didn't ask for your help."
"Okay, you got your little moment," She grabbed her tray, threw a leg over the bench she had been sitting on. "now leave me the fuck alone."
I scoffed and, unwilling to let her walk away for whatever reason I myself didn't fully understand, I stalked around the table, only to be stopped by Toye's arm, lazily raised to block my path.
"why don't you sit down, alright?" His raspy voice sounded tired.
"Yeah, knock it off, Joe." Malarkey jumped it, a mild concerned on his demeanor.
"Piss off." I countered, smacking Joe's hand away and resuming my walk.
By the time I reached her, the tray had already been returned to its place and she was about to exit the mess hall.
I huffed, trailing behind her. "You don't get to walk away on me—"
The words were knocked off me when she halted dead in her tracks, did a half turn and took a step forward. "After the bullshit you just pulled," her index finger dug into my chest. "I get to do whatever I want." I opened my mouth but no retort came out of it before she clapped back, as if she was reading my mind. "You don't need my help. Noted. I'll make sure to remember that next time you get a whole squad running around to stop you from getting beaten up."
"I didn't say—"
"That you needed their help either, yeah. You're such a tough guy, aren't you?" Unlike me, she wasn't rising her voice, which was just as infuriating to me as the bite in her sentences. "You're a fucking idiot, that's what you are."
I didn't have the chance to follow her out; Lieutenant Winters crossed paths with her, getting a quiet salute from a flustered Y/n before his inquisitive, unreadable gaze fell on me.
"Liebgott." It was a warning disguised as a greeting. I wasn't that stupid.
"Sir." I repeated Y/n's salute and took Winters arched brow as a cue to sit down at the nearby table.
Guarnere, having breakfast by my side, muttered something under his breath after giving me a side glance.
"What?"
"C'mon Joe," Luz sighed, turning from an adjacent table to make eye contact with me. "You really think you would've won that fight?"
"She made you a favor." Smokey clarified.
"She's got no right to make that call." I grumbled, stealing a bite from Perconte's plate, earning a muffled complaint from him.
"Jesus Christ, Lieb." Muck complained, shaking his head. "Bailey could deck you any day. She's looking out for you. We're looking out for you."
"Yeah, can you think about the rest of us for once?" I rolled my eyes at Luz's tell-off. "You know the amount of crap we'd get from Sobel if he ever finds out?"
"Alright, that's enough." I dismissed them with a grimace. "I get it. 'M sorry for the trouble. Jesus."
"Good." Penkala nodded, pointing at the door. "Now apologize to Y/n."
"Don't hold your breath, Penk." I retorted before standing up to grab a proper breakfast for myself before drill training.
Maybe the boys were right and I did owe her an apology. Not that she would ever get it, though.
#joseph liebgott fanfiction#joseph liebgott x reader#joseph liebgott imagine#joseph liebgott headcanons#joseph liebgott#joe liebgott fanfic#joe liebgott x reader#joe liebgott fanfiction#joe liebgott headcanons#joe liebgott#joe liebgott x you#joe liebgott angst#currahee#george luz#floyd talbert#don malarkey#alton more#skip muck#alex penkala#frank perconte#joe toye#band of brothers fanfic#band of brothers fandom#band of brothers#bob request#band of brothers fanfiction#hbo war fic#hbo miniseries#hbo war#head to head
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Unwanted: Chapter 12, Unlucky - Pt. 4
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader
Summary: When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn’t be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust.
Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, mentions of violence.
Word Count: 1.2k
Previously On...: You learned the extend of Rhodey's condition and, based on Sam's testimony, Carthage is to be held responsible. When Tony ripped into her, Bucky came to her rescue. Much to your embarrassment, Tony called out his penchant for being there for Carthage over you in front of the entire team. Sam overhears how you want Carthage gone; he suggests you, he, and Natasha talk.
A/N: Some interesting information is revealed. Interesting information indeed. This is a scheduled post, so I hope I'm having a good time in NoLa right now! lol
Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917!
Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!
Taglist: (Please let me know if you’d like to be added!) @jmeelee @cazellen @blackhawkfanatic @les-sel @marcswife21 @buckybarnessimpp @mrsbuckybarnes1917 @erelierraceala @hayjat @capswife @itsteambarnes @jupiter-107 @marygoddessofmischief @sebastians-love @learisa @lethallyprotected @rabbitrabbit12321 @buckybarnesandmarvel @fanfictiongirl77 @calwitch @fantasyfootballchampion @selella @jackiehollanderr @wintercrows @sashaisready @missvelvetsstuff @angelbabyyy99 @keylimebeag @maybefoxysouls @vicmc624 @sashaisready @j23r23 @wintercrows @crist1216 @cjand10 @doublejeon @pattiemac1
Moments later, the three of you were holed up in your room, as it was on the floor closest to the med bay. You and Nat sat on the couch while Sam, who had quickly rinsed himself of Rhodey’s blood in your shower, and was now wearing your terrycloth robe, sat in one of your armchairs. While passing Jade’s room, you’d put an ear to her door and heard her still crying, the low thrum of Bucky’s voice as he tried to reassure her.
“Spill,” said Nat eagerly. “Who knows how much time we have before Barnes gets back.”
“Yeah, on second thought, this might not have been the best place for a clandestine meeting,” Sam said.
“Just talk!” you urged him.
“Okay, okay!” he began. “So, I think we were set up.”
You and Nat both gasped simultaneously. “You’re not suggesting–” you said, just as Nat said:
“You think Carthage faked the intel?”
Sam shrugged. “I can’t prove it, but none of it adds up,” he said. “To be honest, she was pretty useless on the entire mission. Didn’t come up with a single piece of intel until that final night, and it just so happened to point to an abandoned Hydra base? Come on, man, what are the odds of that?” Sam scoffed.
“We told her protocol dictated we report it back to command, then wait for back up if the intel was deemed worthy of investigating. She got real insistent we check it ourselves, told us it was probably nothing, but even if it was something, it’d just be an abandoned spot. Said her source told her it had a motherlode of dirt on Hydra operatives in positions in international governments. If we could bring it home, we’d be single handedly exposing the very inner workings of Hydra, and how could we not do that? Rhodey wanted to go interrogate her ‘source’ himself, but Jade wouldn’t give it up; said he just had to trust her.” Sam snorted. “Girl, please. You’re a fucking snake.” You couldn’t help but giggle at that; you’d had essentially the same thought, once upon a time.
“Everything we do to try to convince her to hold off, she fights us on. There was nothing we could say to get her to let go of the idea. But we’re thinking Probie just wants to prove herself in the field, right? We’ve all been there. When she took off, we followed her. Figured we’d at least have her six if something went screwy, and we weren’t going to get reamed out by Cap and Stark if something happened to her out there. But here’s the thing:” Sam scootched forward until he was sitting at the very edge of his seat. “She went in there well before us. By at least three, maybe five minutes, okay?” You and Nat both nodded. “So, my question then becomes, ‘how come the shooting don’t start until after me and Rhodey go in?’ ‘s almost like she went in first and gave them the signal to start firing.” You and Nat stared at each other, wide-eyed. It was speculative, true, but…
“And she don’t come out with a scratch, or a drop of blood on her.” Sam continued. “Plus, I checked her clips when she was sleeping on the flight home. Girl didn’t fire a single shot. Me and Rhodey are in a shootout for our lives, and she doesn’t fire one bullet? Almost like she knew she didn’t need to defend herself.”
“Or you,” Nat added thoughtfully.
“Sam,” you began slowly, “I hate her more than everyone else in this building, but you’re making a really heavy accusation. We would need real, hard evidence in order to do anything about it. She could just really be that incompetent.”
“That’s why I’m comin’ to the two of you,” he grinned. “Computer genius and a super spy. Shouldn’t be hard for the two of you to help Ole Sammy out.”
“Ugh, I hate it when you refer to yourself as ‘Ole Sammy,’” Nat bemoaned. “But I’ll reach out to some of my old KGB contacts. See what they drum up. Pocket, can you go through the Tower’s systems, see if she’s tried to access anything she shouldn’t have? Anything that sets off alarm bells?”
You nodded. “Yeah, that’ll be easy enough.”
“Good,” said Sam, standing up. “In the meantime, this stays between the three of us. Pocket, you gonna be able to keep this from Tin Man? He’s a little too cozy with her for my taste.”
You snorted at that. “Yeah, mine, too. Don’t worry, I won’t say a word.”
“Neither will I,” Nat promised.
“Alright then, ladies, meeting adjourned.” Sam said as he walked to the door. You followed him, wanting to see him out. As you opened the door for him, you met Bucky in the hallway, leaving Jade’s room.
“Hey there, Buck,” Sam smiled cheerfully before giving you a peck on the head. “Thanks for the chat, Baby Girl. I’ll see you later.”
You and Bucky watched him walk down the hall before he turned to you, eyes narrowed. “Care to tell me why Big Bird is coming out of our room wearing nothing but your robe?” he asked carefully.
“We’re obviously having an affair,” you said dryly, walking back into your room, him right at your heels.
“Well, if it walks like a duck,” Bucky’s voice was angry as he entered your room.
“Are you serious with that right now?” you asked.
“In that case, you’ve been quacking like a duck for a long time now, Barnes,” Nat said from her spot on the couch.
“Oh, hey Nat,” Bucky said, relief washing over his features at knowing you and Sam hadn’t been alone.
Nat stood up and made her way to the door. “I’m gonna head out, let you two work through your ducking issues. See you later, Pocket. Barnes; nice projection work just now.” With a nod, she was gone.
“Listen, Pocket,” Bucky, blatantly ignoring Nat's jab, began, “about earlier…”
“I get it, Buck,” you said, sighing. “You were just trying to protect your friend. I’ll be honest and tell you that I didn’t love the way it looked, and it was embarrassing. But I’m not holding it against you. How can I when you wherefor looking out for someone you care about, even though I really wish you would care about literally anyone else but her? Sorry– that was petty.” You sighed. “Tony made it worse. He’s the one I’m furious with, not you.”
“Thank you for understanding, doll.” He kissed your forehead. “Stark had no right to yell at her like that. He was way outta line.”
“Oh, I’m completely on Tony’s side about that,” you said, holding up a hand when he began to argue with you. “But you and I are going to have to agree to disagree there.”
The corner of his mouth turned up in a cute half-grin. “Alright, sweetheart.” He pulled you to him. “I’m just sorry your special day got overshadowed by all this other shit. I know!” He looked down on you, grinning. “Why don’t you pack a bag and first thing tomorrow, you and I’ll drive Upstate, find ourselves a nice little BnB, and spend the rest of the weekend celebratin’, just the two of us? Maybe we can drive out to the Catskills, find a nice spot to look at the stars. You always complain how you can never see them in the city.”
“Yeah, Buck,” you said, snuggling close to him. “‘S long as we know Rhodey’s gonna be alright, I would love to do that with you.”
<- Previous Part / Next Part ->
#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes x y/n#bucky x you#bucky x reader#bucky fanfic#bucky barnes#bucky barnes fanfic#bucky x female reader#bucky barnes fic#bucky barnes fanfiction#james bucky buchanan barnes#james buchanan barnes#mcu bucky barnes#james barnes
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What is your Favorite Jon Snow Moment?
"The Wall will stop them," Jon heard himself say. He turned and said it again, louder. "The Wall will stop them. The Wall defends itself." Hollow words, but he needed to say them, almost as much as his brothers needed to hear them. "Mance wants to unman us with his numbers. Does he think we're stupid?" He was shouting now, his leg forgotten, and every man was listening. "The chariots, the horsemen, all those fools on foot...what are they going to do to us up here? Any of you ever see a mammoth climb a wall?" He laughed, and Pyp and Owen and half a dozen more laughed with him. "They're nothing, they're less use than our straw brothers here, they can't reach us, they can't hurt us, and they don't frighten us, do they?"
"NO!" Grenn shouted.
"They're down there and we're up here," Jon said, "and so long as we hold the gate they cannot pass. They cannot pass!" They were all shouting then, roaring his own words back at him, waving swords and longbows in the air as their cheeks flushed red. Jon saw Kegs standing there with a warhorn slung beneath his arm. "Brother," he told him, "sound for battle." (Jon VIII, ASoS)
Still upset that they didn't let Jon have this kind of moment in the show. Instead they gave it to...Alliser...
He laughed, and Pyp and Owen and half a dozen more laughed with him.
I really wanna talk about this part for a bit. I believe it also has significance here, because:
[Joffrey] laughed...and when the king laughs, the court laughs with him. (Sansa IV, ASoS)
:)
My second one is this:
"The lord commander must pardon my bluntness, but I have no softer way to say this. What you propose is nothing less than treason. For eight thousand years the men of the Night's Watch have stood upon the Wall and fought these wildlings. Now you mean to let them pass, to shelter them in our castles, to feed them and clothe them and teach them how to fight. Lord Snow, must I remind you? You swore an oath."
"I know what I swore." Jon said the words. "I am the sword in the darkness. I am the watcher on the walls. I am the fire that burns against the cold, the light that brings the dawn, the horn that wakes the sleepers, the shield that guards the realms of men. Were those the same words you said when you took your vows?"
"They were. As the lord commander knows."
"Are you certain that I have not forgotten some? The ones about the king and his laws, and how we must defend every foot of his land and cling to each ruined castle? How does that part go?" Jon waited for an answer. None came. "I am the shield that guards the realms of men. Those are the words. So tell me, my lord—what are these wildlings, if not men?"
Bowen Marsh opened his mouth. No words came out. A flush crept up his neck. (Jon XI, ADwD)
Jon has this way about him that really gets people to listen. They may not agree, but they listen, and he gets his points across succinctly.
I like a lot of Jon moments, but those two are certainly my favourites. I like who he is as a character. He's such an internal one, so much of what we know about him is because we have his POV, and I enjoy that. He's snarky, he's stubborn, he's fierce, he's an enigma. Pragmatic, straightforward, brave. (and abnormally strong but that's neither here nor there lol)
He's written incredibly well. Certainly my favourite overall in the series.
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Dinner and Diatribes
Chapter 5: The Fourth Principle
Summary: Word Count 35K!! AO3 Link
Jayce returns from the ruined future to fulfill his promise to Viktor, only to find him inconspicuously missing and his commune in shambles. As it turns out, his disappearance is the work of none other than Ambessa, twink hunter extraordinaire and connoisseur of only the finest local cuisine. And what cuisine could be more exquisite than the Herald of Zaun himself?
She isn't in the business of asking nicely, but perhaps a bribe is in order? After all, why ask when the stakes are this high, and you hold all the cards? A spicy meal just means more flavor, right? Jayce better hurry and find Viktor before she decides to have a taste and find out...
Chapter 4 Summary: With everything now taken care of and Jayce and Vi working together, it's time to set a particularly risky plan into motion. Meanwhile, Ambessa finally makes a move on Viktor and makes him an offer that might just be tempting enough to consider...
Chapters: (1) (2) (3) (4) Masterlist 5/5 Sequel Pending
Chapter 5: The Fourth Principle
Notes: I didn’t mean for there to be two weeks between chapters. Gah! I’ll explain why in the end-of-chapter notes, though. And something tells me you are REALLY going to enjoy what I have to say. So please, for all our sakes, READ THEM. Just this once, especially if you usually don’t. I’ll make it worth your time this go around. I promise. Thanks, and enjoy the chapter! I think I caught a cold writing this lol. Gonna go rest. 35k words will do that to you...
—
His breath caught in his lungs, nearly choking him as she lingered there, her face mere inches from his own.
All at once, Viktor’s face fell. His bottom lip pouted slightly, showing just the slightest bit of his teeth as his pupils dilated noticeably. His eyelashes fluttered as he spiraled through multiple overwhelming emotions all at once, his color-shifting eyes darting through various shades of reddish pinks and browns in rapid succession, unable to find a balance. He was panicked, his nerves prickling like a frightened, cornered creature. And a small one at that, under the shadow of such a mighty opponent. Like a fox cornered against the edge of a cliff, throat bare to the teeth of the prowling wolf that had led it astray. And the wolf smirked.
Ambessa Medarda enjoyed many positions, but being in command was her favorite by far.
Hextech. So she knew, then?
Swallowing, he regarded her in silence, using every atom of his being to force himself into something resembling a composed state. His breath was heavy, and his eyes were intense, filled with unspoken fervor as he mentally disavowed the very notion of his own intuition. He remained the master of his own emotions as things stood. Or so he liked to believe. In truth, there was still that itch in the back of his skull, that gnawing ache that told him otherwise, as was its prerogative to disseminate fact from fiction. How much had the Hexcore changed about him, tweaked for its benefit?
He forced his mind back to the task at hand. Back to what Ambessa had said to him and to a reality that he had to confront.
She’d ruffled his feathers and gotten well and truly under his skin for a moment in time. That would not go unnoticed by her, of that he was certain. But it was a challenge that he could not afford to rise to a second time. Not to that extent. He would have to find a way through gritted teeth and clenched jaws not to say something that he would live to regret.
But then there was the reality of it, again.
Viktor searched the recesses of his turbulent mind, recalling a commonality. A recursive impulse. A thread that connected every time that he’d ever become angry on Jayce’s behalf like that. And there certainly was one to take note of. Every sneer of disbelief and uncertainty as investors and professional rivals alike snickered at the most minute of his shortcomings. At every little insignificant stumble and stutter that those around them attempted to use to dismantle him. As Jayce tried his very best to be the consummate professional that he was expected to be. Ever pleasant and composed, never flinching under the lash of expectation.
Viktor, perhaps better than anyone, beheld the weight of Jayce’s silent anxiety. The gnawing sense that perhaps he was in over his head and wasn’t cut out for all of this, despite his best efforts to be precisely what everyone else needed him to be. Viktor’s lack of knowledge as to what he could do to alleviate it always cut him deeply. All the little, minuscule things that it changed about Jayce bit by bit over time, ebbing away at him like the eroded banks of a stone riverbed, washing up too much sediment for the waters to ever truly be clean and clear again. Jayce was Piltover’s Golden Boy, the Man of Progress. The face of Hextech. A visage of Piltover’s ardent vanity to be paraded and plastered about with no heed as to what that kind of pressure did to someone, because that consideration was never made. He was simply expected to step up and be the living embodiment of excellence and perfection, something he’d tried so very hard to be. And yet, he would forever be all of those things to the world before he could simply be allowed to be Jayce Talis. Scientist. Friend.
Truthfully, Viktor had known that he should inquire as to what Jayce needed from him to help alleviate his burdens and take that weight off of his weary shoulders. But he also knew that Jayce would smile at him warmly, place his hand upon his shoulder with all the gentleness inherent in his soul, and that he would tell him nothing. Not to lose sleep over it. Ask him to let him worry about that. For to have Viktor agonize about him was a different kind of failure entirely. One he would not tolerate. So he’d never asked. And now he wished that he had.
For every time Jayce had offered him aid or attempted to comfort him in his most vulnerable moments, Viktor wished that he’d known more about what to do for him during his. That he’d taken a leap of faith and simply placed his hand on his shoulder, attempted to initiate touch when he’d known that he needed it. Been that reassuring presence that he’d known that Jayce craved and appreciated instead of hovering just far enough away to be untouchable for fear that he’d hurt him worse. That he’d risked doing something potentially meaningful and just apologized for it later, should it have been the wrong thing to do at the time.
They’d both been so much happier when Jayce had just been… Jayce.
When the two of them had been wide-eyed fledglings, eager to jump from the nest together and glide out over the bright, beautiful world on their own two wings. Before the damage had been done.
It was an unspoken fact that he’d never liked seeing people view Jayce as anything but the intelligent, loving person that he was. Jayce was not perfect and never would be, but there was no doubt in his heart that he always tried. His good nature was infallible. It was simply the type of man that he was. Something Viktor had always admired about him.
Viktor took a breath and composed himself. Then he looked up at Ambessa.
"Jayce is many things, General Medarda, but he is not a fool. And I will not see him maligned." Viktor’s tone was firm and commanding, unyielding in its magnitude. He did not raise his voice, but he was sure that he’d spoken with no prevarication, his sentiments now crystal clear. On this, he would not budge. Jayce was not there to defend his own honor, so he would do it for him. Gladly.
Ambessa leaned back, folding her arms loosely across her chest as she took in the sight of him. There was something unreadable in her eyes as she processed the remark, making note of something he couldn’t fathom. Her eyes drifted out over the terrace to her right, and to the night sky beyond. And then she turned her attention back to him, something subtle in her eyes that Viktor couldn’t place but also couldn’t help but glimpse. She didn’t seem upset by the assertion. Far from it. She almost seemed impressed that he’s been so firm with her.
Perhaps a different approach was in order…
Ambessa relaxed her shoulders ever so slightly, her demeanor taking on a more casual air as she beheld him. He was getting defensive, building fortified walls with the intention of keeping her out. She would get nowhere meaningful with him at arm's length. Cornered as her quarry was, he was still willing to mark the threshold of his territory, make the line that she was not to cross abundantly clear. And that was something she could begrudgingly respect. But bold and emotional as the little fox was, he was still a logical creature, as was she. Maybe it was time to appeal to other aspects of his sensibilities.
"And yet, I would assert that he has no issue seeing your contributions to his enterprise overlooked." She spoke with the assurance of a person who wholly assumed herself to be correct, regardless of the validity of the statement. Her tone was cool and calm. It carried a tinge of truth, even if the whole of her statement was flawed. "It took quite a lot of digging to find any record of you. And even then, I'm only just now learning your name."
Viktor balked at the notion instinctively, unwilling to humor it on principle, but equally disinclined to reveal his distaste in its full glory. His response needed to be measured and calculated, even if it did wholeheartedly unsettle him. How fascinating it was to feel such vibrant emotions again. He was rapidly starting to understand why the Hexcore had dampened them to the degree that it had. He was far more predictable and level-headed without them, even if he didn’t allow them to rule him by any notable measure. Far easier to influence and control.
"I was not fond of signing documentation." He said simply, his eyes drifting downward slightly. It was the truth, if not a simplified one devoid of any meaningful details. Stripped down to its barest elements like over-filed metal. He had his own reasons for not signing the majority of Hextech’s documentation, a lack of desire to do so among them. But so was a desire to stand out on his own accord. His own merit as a scientist was notable, too. Viktor was content to allow the publicity and fame to fall to Jayce for their shared efforts. He did not envy him or his fame. The Hexgates were glorious, but they were not the sort of thing he’d been passionate about creating, even if he was proud of what they’d accomplished together. When something positive and truly meaningful to the day-to-day lives of the common people came to fruition, when something he genuinely wanted to be remembered for came about, then he would bother.
He imagined that it would be a complicated notion to explain to General Medarda. And so he didn’t. They simply shared a difference in perspective as to what was considered notable and important to them. One too wide to bridge. Another means to fattening the wallets of the trade guilds wasn’t something he cared all that much about in the grand scheme of things. It had been an important learning opportunity, a chance to refine their shared skills. Now they could do something better.
Or they could have…
The dull ache returned to his chest as he pushed down the feeling that he felt well up inside of him again. He recognized it this time. Despair. How had he ever forgotten it?
His pause didn’t go unnoticed by Ambessa the same way that it went unnoticed by Viktor. It was evident that he was thinking, contemplating something deeply and methodically. But she had more questions. And she did not possess an abundance of patience when it came to receiving answers. She never had.
"Content to fade into obscurity?" The question was genuine, even if her tone was ever so slightly sardonic. Of course he wasn’t. How could he be? Ambessa had never known a great mind that didn’t wish to be known for something. That was content with mediocrity.
Viktor shook his head, his voice unwavering. "I did not do this for glory."
She huffed. She was willing to believe that. His choice of location when it came to the amassing of his following made that sentiment more believable at face value. The commune, for all of its glittering splendor and radiance, was hidden away from the outside world, unknown to those it was not meant for. It was about the work. About the security required to carry out the task at hand. And yet, there was more to it than that, wasn’t there?
"Yet, I gather recognition of your contributions is still important to you? No one is that altruistic." Ambessa studied him cautiously, taking note of the conflicted look in his eyes. It was subtle. He did a good job of concealing it, but it was still noticeable if one knew what to look for. And the longer that the two of them spent speaking to one another, the more she was learning to pick up on the subtle tells and cues of his body language. She was willing to take a stab in the dark and assume that perhaps, just this once, that someone was being fully transparent with her. That his naivete was that severe. That his heart was truly so filled with compassion that it stood in opposition to every cruelty that had been hammered into him by life.
"You want to be known for something. Remembered by the populace at large, even if you do not wish to bask in the publicity. Every great mind does." Her tone softened gradually as she spoke, but her conviction did not. It was a core part of the indomitable human spirit to want to leave a lasting imprint on the world. To do something that reminded people that you had lived long after your demise. To be known and recollected. Remembered. Why would he be any different? "I could give you that."
Viktor’s head tilted to the side as he beheld her, his brow creasing just a bit. And what would that legacy be, exactly? He was in no doubt as to the truthfulness of that statement. He imagined that Ambessa herself was already a woman of great renown back in her home province of Noxis. She was a General and the matriarch of a noble house. Her family name was held in great regard. But much of that reputation and prestige went against his principles. He’d heard whispers of her when she’d first arrived in town. Of her escapades and the destruction that followed. Whispers that only reinforced the notion that nothing peaceful could be accomplished through cooperation with her. And he would not betray the people of Zaun. He would not be an instrument of war. Viktor could not betray himself.
His eyes locked with her own, just as sincere and unfaltering. Filled with righteous conviction. And for the first time since their evening rendezvous had begun, they shifted fully brown again and stayed that way. "I will leave a lasting positive impact on this world, or I will leave no impact at all."
The pair stared one another down in silence for a minute, neither backing down. It appeared that their battle of wills had reached a stalemate. And although she didn’t display even the slightest glimpse of it, Ambessa was more enamored than ever. His defiance was unwelcome, yes, but his resolve was staggering, far beyond what she’d thought someone so small and unimposing could invoke. He was a force of nature. Truly a wolf wearing the skin of a fox. Why hadn’t Mel picked this one?
"Your intentions are admirable, but your energy is misplaced." She continued almost too gently. She allowed her arms to relax at her sides, her eyes never leaving his. Her gaze eased. "You have merit. Do not squander it."
Viktor sighed softly, his anger fully leaving him. It was a compliment, one that felt genuine and almost imploring in its rare, unguarded sincerity. He didn’t get the impression that Ambessa Medarda was well known for giving those out. He was almost flattered. Almost. "I will not be your weapon."
It was her turn to look perplexed as her brow creased and the bottom corner of her lip quirked up just enough to be noticeable. She quite literally gave him a sideways look, a sound somewhere between a scoff and a chuckle escaping her chest through closed lips. Suddenly, she seemed as surprised as he did, entertained by the very notion.
"And why do you think I want you to be?" Something about the way she spoke, the gentle humor of it, the way that she glanced at him as though she were assessing something about him. How completely comical she seemed to find the very notion to be. It was utterly disarming. It was the most genuine question she’d asked him thus far. "I've seen your little community, you’re "commune" as you call it. I do not get the impression that it was built on the back of magic alone."
Viktor remained silent and let his guard fall just a little more. Was it conceivable that he’d grossly misread her intentions? He would not pretend to know everything, but… she now had his full attention. He needed to reassess. It was possible that he had not fully given her the benefit of the doubt, and understandably so. She had kidnapped him, after all. He didn’t owe her the benefit of the doubt by any means. But he would hear her out.
Realizing that he was genuinely listening, the corner of her mouth pulled up into something resembling a smirk, but there was no air of mockery to it. The gesture was meant to be approving; that was clear as day. “Perhaps now we can attempt to get on the same page, then?” She seemed to be asking him without speaking the words.
"You inspire loyalty. Fealty. And you possess the leadership and administrative skills required to lay the groundwork for visible, meaningful change. Qualities that the right people see as a challenge." This time, Viktor allowed himself to be slightly flattered by her words. He didn’t need to ask if giving empty commendations was beneath her dignity. He knew it to be. Ambessa seemed to weigh something in her mind, assessing the pros and cons of what she wanted to say next before landing on an acceptable outcome. Her tone was firm when she next spoke, neutral. But her statement was far less so. Clearly, she knew she was peeling the scab off of an old wound. "No wonder Mr Talis was keen to keep you hidden behind closed doors. Your ambitions could easily have overshadowed his own."
Viktor did a double-take, intaking a sharp breath as though he’d just been spat at. Scoffing. What precisely was she getting at? He felt the faintest vestiges of the bitterness he’d previously felt return, but he expunged them. He disagreed on principle, but if she was truly this determined to have this conversation, then he would humor her, even if he had to do it through clenched teeth. Maybe she thought she knew something that he didn’t.
"We were partners. I chose to stay in the lab because it was where I was most needed, and he took on the responsibilities that came with maintaining Hextech's public image." He resisted the urge to raise his voice even a little, speaking evenly and calmly despite the distaste that his eyes betrayed. He could not be convinced of anything negative about Jayce. What was there to be convinced of that he didn’t already know? "But we made our decisions together. We worked together."
"And yet, the most important decisions he made without your input, I take it." Her rebuttal was as swift as it was exacting. Despite the unpleasant nature of the conversation, it was evident that Viktor was not the one she was levying accusations against. But she did intend to get to the heart of the matter one way or another. She turned towards the terrace, glancing down at him out of the corner of her left eye. "He came to see me once. Right before the attack on the council. Did he tell you as much?"
Clenching his jaw, Viktor worried the inside of his cheek with the side of his tongue, pressing so hard against his teeth that it stung slightly. Viktor studied every centimeter of her face, but search as he might, he didn’t detect the slightest hint that she was deceiving him. His eyes softened just a bit as his mind wandered to the possible reasons Jayce might have for doing so. Some were innocent, and others were… less so. What had Jayce been doing with her? Had it been a simple meeting to greet her under the reasoning that he would have to meet Mel’s mother eventually? Had she summoned him there? Had it simply slipped his mind that the meeting had occurred amidst everything else that had no doubt been going on at the time? The uncertainty suddenly gnawed at him. He wished he could ask.
"He did… not."
It was not the first time that he’d been informed about something important that Jayce had failed to speak to him about until after it was already over. Viktor’s mind wandered back to the circumstances surrounding Heimerdinger’s dismissal as a member of the council. He’d found out completely by happenstance after the fact, and it had come as a complete shock to him. At the time, it had been one of many factors that had weakened his trust in him during an already trying time between the two of them. Viktor hadn’t felt comfortable pressing the issue at the time, not after their disagreement on the bridge. Just thinking back to that day left a bitter taste in his mouth, one that he’d long since thought he’d shaken. Had this happened during the same time frame? Surely it had… They’d made all of their worst decisions at the same time, hadn’t they?
What else did Ambessa know that he didn’t?
Ambessa allowed him time to simmer on the topic, seeing the conflict in his eyes. Those hue-shifting irises were a terrible tell to have, indeed. Not that his ability to suppress his gut reaction when he found something she said distasteful was much better. He wore his emotions on his sleeve. Perhaps with time, it was something she could teach him to suppress.
"Did you approve of his creation of those Hextech weapons he made for Caitlyn Kirraman's little strike team?" She inquired nonchalantly, still not fully facing him. The sun had finally fully set over the horizon, a haze settling over the harbor that threatened fog. It was going to be one of those hazy, chilly nights, then. "A staunch pacifist such as yourself would no doubt be at odds with your research being used to take lives. To aid the deeds of the very individuals filling the lungs of your people with toxic gas."
Viktor wanted to be angry. To coat his lips with venomous spittle and say something in defense of Jayce’s actions. But he couldn’t. In truth, he remembered the blueprints that General Medarda spoke of. He’d seen them with his own eyes sitting just to the side of Sky’s notebook. A messily compiled stack of potential atrocities waiting to be crafted if they already hadn’t been by the time he’d seen them. His fingertips had brushed against them when he’d reached down to pick up her notes. The one for the rifle had been especially troubling to him at the time; the implications of what ranged artillery could do to the people of Zaun were not lost on him. The gauntlets were far from harmless in capable hands, sure… but the gun…
"No. I did not. I objected. Vocally." Viktor confessed, weary of the topic already. To think that Jayce had sat by his side and crafted them, literally right under his nose… He liked to think that Jayce had enough of a conscience to feel conflicted about doing such a thing, especially knowing how he felt about the concept, but perhaps not. Viktor had never asked him why he’d created those weapons because no answer that Jayce could give him would’ve satiated the bottomless well of disappointed anguish that the knowledge of their existence put in him. The existential dread he now felt just knowing that someone aligned with Ambessa possessed them. And that they were being used against those most ill-equipped to stand against them. It was precisely what he didn’t want to come to fruition. His worst nightmare was now a reality.
Why Jayce… Why…
Ambessa took note of his silence, his almost defeated demeanor undeniable. The way his shoulders slouched ever so slightly under the crushing weight of reality. She’d touched on the right catalyst, hadn’t she? Though unintentional as it had been, she’d struck gold by pushing the topic. She’d assumed the conversation would lead somewhere worthwhile, but never to a result this favorable.
"And yet he did it anyway. How thoughtful of him. It seems he only listens to you if your input does not impact what he's already set his mind to doing." Ambessa’s voice was soft, almost hushed, with a tinge of sympathy. She had no intention of coaxing him through this revelatory moment, but she did know the sting of betrayal in all its many forms. And if she was willing to take a guess, Viktor was not someone who trusted deeply without ample cause. The gutted, forlorn look on his face spoke volumes to that truth. And then it occurred to her. "Ah. Is that what caused your separation?"
He spoke not a single word in response. Instead, his gaze drifted out over the terrace as hers had a short while ago, a flicker of disturbance in his face as his brow knotted for an instant before relaxing again. Be things as they might, he almost thought he felt something. Sensed the presence of something noteworthy, regardless of how distant it might be. Viktor stepped away from her absent-mindedly, making his way out onto the balcony. Investigating. Grasping the railing in front of him as he looked far out over the city that he’d never seen from this high up before. But despite his enhanced vision, he saw nothing. Perhaps it had been wishful thinking.
He wished that he could feel it in its entirety. The crisp kiss of air from the bay on his exposed skin. The way the gentle salty breeze jostled the loose fabric that covered his skin. The misty night’s condensation in his hair, dampening it ever so slightly. To feel it across the length and breadth of himself instead of only his face and the uppermost part of his neck.
He’d noticed it after the fact. The gradual encroachment of his augmented skin as it crept ever higher, devouring more of his being as he continued to use his gifts. It had been a slight, subtle thing until he’d caught wind of it one day with a passing glance at his reflection. Viktor remembered it well. The slight tingle that had crawled up his spine before being summarily expunged by the Hexcore’s efforts to keep him in perfect homeostasis. He remembered how it slipped away. Just like everything else had. Almost everything.
A moment later, Ambessa joined him, planting herself just behind him, off to his right side. Her eyes followed his gaze out across the city, but it was clear that her focus was on him and him alone.
"Look at all you've accomplished without him. You don't need him. But I could make great use of your talents. Talents that have been sorely underutilized and underappreciated." She crept closer, resting her arm just close enough for them to not quite touch as she looked over at him, her gaze soft, almost affectionate. A flicker of something unspeakable in her warm eyes as she looked him slowly up and down before settling on his face again. Had that mole always been there? How darling. "Your insight is valuable. It would not be squandered under my banner. I do not make such mistakes with things of value."
Viktor allowed her words to simmer for a moment. He opened his lips a negligible degree to speak before closing them again, noticing out of the corner of his eye that Ambessa had been watching the motion intensely, her irises fixated on his mouth as though she were hanging on his every unspoken word. Suddenly, he wasn’t sure what he wanted to say. But her presence, suffocating as it was becoming, no longer intimidated him. And he didn’t get the impression that it was meant to.
"I could help you accomplish all that you seek. My resources are vast. You need only assist me in finishing the task at hand, and then we will have all the time in the world to speak at length about how I might..." The passion in her gaze was unmistakable as she leaned just a bit closer, near enough to speak directly into his ear. Not quite whispering, but lowering her volume all the same. For the benefit of his hearing, no doubt. Certainly not for subtlety’s sake. That concept was moot to her. "Return the favor."
He suppressed a shudder as a chill ran through his body, fixing him in place. The feeling of her breath against his ear, the closeness of it. How she lingered but didn’t touch him despite how close her lips were to doing just that. It had been a very long time since someone had invaded his personal space so thoroughly, and never with such fearlessness. Such ferocity. There was an undeniable hunger to her words and actions that sent his pulse into a frenzy; the pale purple glow that suffused his body set alight by the sudden prospect of being the focus of such attention. It was startling, to say the least, but surely he was mistaken. Flattering himself unintentionally. After all, what could she possibly…
"General Medarda..." Viktor didn’t know what else to say. There were the obvious options of asking her to back away from him, or pointing out the potentially inappropriate turn that their conversation seemed to be taking, but he didn’t. For reasons that were beyond him, he simply stopped talking.
Ambessa eyed him with all the temptation and voracious appetite of a ravenous predator salivating over its next meal. It seemed that his hesitance to outright reject her advances towards him had emboldened her further. "Ah. So, the undertone of my proposal is not lost on you. Good."
"I would never assume-" Viktor blanched, what little skin on his face that remained untouched by the Arcane depleted of all color as he locked eyes with her. So his assumptions were… Oh.
"You should," Ambessa purred, her eyes soft but no less filled with hunger as she beheld him. She rested her chin on the back of her overturned hand, gazing down at him as though he were a fine treasure she wished to procure. "Follow your instincts. They've not led you astray yet, have they?"
There was a subtle rustle behind them. Heavy footsteps followed by the ringing of metal against stone as the base of a spear clanked against the floor. Ambessa’s bodyguard, no doubt. Making it clear that he was there should she need him, but not asking for their attention.
Viktor didn’t move to acknowledge the man, but he didn’t feel his gaze, either. He was willing to speculate that he was standing off to the side, attempting to provide them with some semblance of privacy. Or waiting to be told that they needed more of it. Either way, he wasn’t going to ask. He had more pressing matters to attend to at present.
He returned his undivided attention to Ambessa. Though he hadn’t moved so much as an inch, his mind had drifted momentarily. And now that she had his full attention again, she intended to keep it. Her eyes scanned the minute details of his face, taking in the asymmetrical lines and swirls that spanned the length of his neck and cheekbones. The golden details that adorned his sternomastoids were like the ornamentation of a noble lord. His body, where she could see it at least, was an artful patchwork of seams of gold, not at all dissimilar to Kintsugi. Fitting for someone once whole who had been broken and then repaired, never again to be quite the same. And yet, his merit remained; his purpose unchanged. He was truly compelling.
"No... they haven't..." Viktor responded, his hesitance to concede unmistakable. It was crystal clear, betrayed by the subtle shakiness of his voice. He didn’t stutter, but he lingered on the words with all the nervousness of a first-year student who had unexpectedly found themselves thrust in front of a large crowd and tasked with briefing them on the night’s events. Truly one of his worst nightmares in another life.
Ambessa smirked, practically purring as she gazed at him. She seemed to consider something for a moment in time before raising her left hand to the height of her shoulder, gesturing nonchalantly as if to shoo something away. That something turned out to be her guard who raised his weapon and summarily retreated from the room without so much as a word.
The door closed with a soft thud. And then silence returned to the space they shared, settling in like a chill in winter. Ambessa seemed to wait to see if Viktor would say anything further before coming to the conclusion that the cat had his tongue and that the capacity to speak had deserted him and fled for the hills. He was timid when it came to receiving compliments? She hadn’t expected him to be as forward as she was, but how quaint. How… amusing? Oh, how delightful it would be to watch him unravel…
"As I said before, I am in the habit of doing what is necessary to obtain what I desire." She lifted her face away from her hand, no longer leaning against the terrace railing. Instead, she extended that same hand outward, gingerly brushing a few stray hairs out of her companion’s face with the back of her fingertips. The heat of her palm ghosted across his face as she narrowly avoided making direct contact with his skin. "And I desire you."
Viktor’s pupils dilated in abject shock at the blatant remark, his face flushing bright red as all the color returned to it at once. His breath caught in his chest as he batted his eyelashes furiously, irises fluctuating between every color in their repertoire as he looked to the left and right of her and then directly into her eyes when he realized that there was nowhere within reason to pretend to look.
He wasn’t innocent by any metric one might use to measure his life’s cumulative ventures. “Puerile” was not a word that came to mind should anyone be aware of his proclivities and inclinations. But he genuinely could not recall a single time at any point in his entire life that someone had ever sauntered up to him, bold as brass, and verbally undressed him in the manner that Ambessa Medarda just had.
And… he didn’t hate it. He didn’t desire it. Didn’t desire her… yet…
Perhaps it was her tone and countenance. Her unwavering confidence juxtaposed with his lack of self-affirmation as of late. The very notion of being wanted by someone of her stature for any reason at all. Or perhaps it had simply been far too long since he’d felt truly wanted by someone, anyone, but he found himself unnaturally flustered. Flattered, even. And he wasn’t sure that he enjoyed it, but he felt it all the same.
She leaned in, planting herself firmly within her personal bubble, nearly trapping him between the railing and her broad stature as she reached out with her right hand, motioning as though she might tenderly grasp his chin. But she did not touch him. Instead, her eyes fell to his neck and the not-so-subtle, profound red tinge of his flushed face. The contrast was breathtaking, even in the low light. What a sight to behold. What a thing to devour. She felt famished, her hunger insatiable.
"Red is a fine color on you. We should do something about that."
"General Medarda I-"
Before Viktor could finish speaking, he rested her hand against the underside of his jaw, stroking a delicate trail with her index finger down the front of his neck. A shiver shot down his spine as his eyes flickered with the vestiges of his suppressed Arcane gifts as his mind was assaulted with a lifetime of memories that were not his to see. He recalled battles fought in bloody mires and battlefields, bitter and bloodsoaked. Triumphs and accolades in the face of grievous losses. Escapades of love and lust in equal measure. Crimes better left undescribed and pains buried so deep that they upheld the very foundation of the structure they were sequestered beneath. Grief, shrewdness, love, and sacrifice. The four principles that best encapsulated the matriarch of the Medarda clan.
Viktor saw it all. And he instantly wished he hadn’t. Not because he found it revolting or abhorrent, but because he couldn’t help but feel sympathetic. Because he couldn’t help but fully comprehend why she might seek solace in the fleeting reassurance of a stranger’s touch. Who else did she have left to turn to? What else did she have to lose? She had nothing but her sorrow and her revenge. And the ever-fleeting hope that perhaps her only family was not beyond saving.
He understood now. That was what she needed him for.
"Please, little one. There's no need for formalities." She said reassuringly as she repeated the gesture. She took note of the vacant look in Viktor’s gaze, his solemn contemplation easily mistaken for silent permission. He raised his hand to hers slowly, resting it against the back of her wrist, clutching but making no move to pull her away or apply force as he toiled fruitlessly, trying to find the right words for what he hoped to express. But try as he might, they would not come. He could not give her what she sought. What she longed for. In that way, she was the first to seek him out whom he could not aid. For nothing he could give her would make her whole again. And for that, he was sorry. "Not under the present circumstances, at least."
"What are you suggesting?" He said softly, his mind still only half on the conversation at hand. His mind still lingered on what he had seen. So much about Mel made more sense to him now. Hindsight truly was a thing of cruel clarity.
"A bit of divertissement, if you'd indulge." Ambessa raised her left hand, uninterested in stopping the ministrations that preoccupied her right. She used it to thumb over the edge of his loosely wrapped, crisscrossed collar, pulling it to the side at the shoulder just enough to see that his body was indeed even more metallic and intricate further down. A glimpse of the gold that encompassed his sternum taunted her. But she knew better than to delve further. Her intention was not to disrobe him. Simply to peek at what might be in store for her should he oblige. Should he take her up on her very generous offer. "Everyone has their preferred methods of winding down after a long day. A bit of pleasure can be quite... restorative."
Viktor caught her meaning, something akin to a knowing smirk materializing on his face as he shook his head subtly. His hair wafted in the breeze, falling back from where she’d placed it.
"I... believe I might have given you the wrong impression..." He glanced down at his hand on hers, noticing for the first time how much larger her’s were than his. He imagined they were calloused, well-worn from a lifetime of battle and hardship. Labor. What little of them he could feel reinforced that assumption. And yet, she was temperate, unnecessarily so. He wasn’t that delicate anymore. Not for a long while, and even then. It almost reminded him of someone. Another who had always been so overly careful with him, despite his protestation to the contrary. His insistence that he was not comprised of sugar glass. "What could you possibly want with me?"
She was the proud matriarch of House Medarda. He was the Herald of Zaun. Their worlds could not be more different or distant. And yet, that didn’t seem to factor into the equation in the slightest. Nor did her apparent distaste for mages, something that she knew him to be. Something that he was now keenly aware of. How perplexing. Did her affinity for him truly supersede such a powerful form of loathing? Did her carnal desires for him extend that far?
It seemed plausible.
"Oh, I think you know. As I said before, you suit my preferences impeccably. Perhaps more than I am comfortable admitting." A chortle escaped her chest as she released his chin and brushed the back of her hand against the left side of his face. Viktor shuddered at the gesture. It had been a long time since someone had touched him in a way that he could truly feel. The exposed skin on his face was one of the few places that remained unadulterated by the Hexcore’s influence. One of the few places where the tenderness of that gesture could be properly perceived. Of course, she had no way of knowing this. It was happenstance. But he felt it all the same. And the conflicted look in his eyes emboldened her. "I get the distinct impression that you are lonely. Not unheard of for one in such a position. It is rare that someone who holds power forms genuine connections. They are a hindrance. Yet, you seem to crave it. That connection with someone."
Viktor sighed slowly and deeply as though he were releasing a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding until then. He blinked slowly. She was correct. He would not attempt to deny that. Ever since the day that he’d abandoned the lab and the life he’d built with Jayce in Piltover and ventured into the depths of the Undercity, there had been a void in him. A hole that he tried to fill with altruism, community, and a burgeoning sense of renewed purpose. With good deeds and a feeling of accomplishment. And he’d found those in the commune. In the good work that he did there. But each day that he awoke, his heart was no less lost to him, still in the possession of another. Cradled gently in the arms of someone who so dearly wished to hold the whole of him instead of the broken fragments of who he used to be. Even within the confines of the Arcane, where he felt the presence of what he perceived to be someone once lost to him, he could not replace what he truly longed for. Who he truly longed for.
And neither could Ambessa.
"Miss Medar-" He carefully raised his free hand to rest against the back of hers, gingerly redirecting it away from the collar of his wrap. She didn’t resist, but if the subtle aura of bewilderment in her eyes was anything to go by, she was surprised by the gesture. "... Ambessa... You are laboring under the impression that I have more to offer you than I frankly do... Quite literally. You would be sorely disappointed. I am flattered but..."
Ambessa blinked. Her stare then traveled lower as her face betrayed her confusion, something about the assertion hitting her in a way wholly unexpected. Her eyes met his again after a moment's pause, and to his surprise, she looked more fascinated and amused than anything else. She certainly wasn’t dismayed or dissuaded. That suggestive gleam returned to her eyes that he was now oh so familiar with as she scoffed playfully, the hand that remained against his cheek overturning to cup the back of the bottom of his jaw, her thumb brushing against the underside of his bottom lip. And then she smiled mischievously.
"You have such a limited imagination, Viktor. And here I thought you were more of an idealist."
It was his turn to be flustered again. So that still wasn’t enough to dissuade her? It was almost reassuring in a way, the fact that something of that magnitude didn’t serve as a dealbreaker for at least one person. But there were frankly far too many factors at play for him to even consider such an offer, least of all the elephant in the room in regards to his personal tastes. Or the fact that he knew her daughter. Ambessa was not unattractive. Far from it, in fact. But she simply wasn’t who he wanted, as strangely flattered by how enamored with him as he had to admit to being. Even as surprised and confused as he was by that revelation. He did not fear that she would react unfavorably to his rejection, but some part of him did feel almost bad about having to decline. She was far more forward than what he was comfortable with, but perhaps some part of him begrudgingly respected a person who knew what they wanted and had the confidence to ask for it. "With respect, Ambessa... I will have to decline. Again, I am flattered, but..."
The disappointment in her demeanor was subtle, but he noticed it all the same. There was no anger, no malice. Only the maturity of someone well aware of how to take no for an answer, despite rarely hearing it given as a response, and clearly nursing an intense dislike for it. With a soft exhale, she flicked his hair as she withdrew her hand. And in turn, he responded with a courteous, self-effacing nod, his eyes betraying his polite remorse, even if he only half meant it. He had no regrets. Only truths that he needed to confront. The simple truth was that he didn’t belong to her. That honor was reserved for another. And it had been set in stone a lifetime ago.
"Well, should the desire to satiate more carnal desires beckon you, find your way to my quarters. I could find it in myself to be quite accommodating..." She said playfully, her pride unblemished. Disappointed as she might be, the door was still open to him should he reconsider. But then her tone turned a touch more dire. "Elsewise, you have until this time tomorrow evening to give me your answer about my other proposal. I trust you shall make the correct decision."
Ah yes. That.
“Goodnight, General Medarda. Thank you for your… hospitality.” Could he earnestly call her attempts to devour him whole that without seeming sarcastic? If the bemused scoff she expunged was anything to go off of, then no. But he was unharmed in the grand scheme of things, a privilege considering the fact that he was still her prisoner. At least physically.
She dismissed him with a casual wave of her hand as the duo returned to the interior of the room, the night air now frigid enough to provoke such a decision. She reclined on the lounge, retrieving her previously abandoned glass of wine as she gestured with a nod for him to take his. A request that he wordlessly reciprocated, taking the glass with him as he headed to the door. It was time that he stopped overstaying his welcome.
He didn’t have to drink it, but he would humor her. Just to remain cordial.
—
Vi genuinely wanted to punch herself in the face for agreeing to go along with this harebrained plan.
“Do you know how to scale a building?” Jayce had asked her. As if it were no great ask. As if they were not discussing clambering all over the Capitol building in full view of any Noxian patrols who just might feel the urge to look up for once in their life. As if the non-zero chance of falling and shattering their spines meant next to nothing to him.
“I’ve climbed higher,” He’d said nonchalantly. Unphased by the prospect.
“Climbed what?” She’d asked at the time only to receive abject silence and a vacant stare as a response. As if something taller existed to even climb. Mount Targon? Jayce Talis was truly a lost cause. And so was she for agreeing to do something so ludicrous.
In truth, there was some logic in his plan, flawed and borderline suicidal as it might be. It was rare for a foot patrol to look up, least of all at a towering building with no clear means of egress. And at night, when there was next to no visibility? They were all but guaranteed to be in the clear attempting something like this. But that was largely because no one in their right mind would ever be that willfully stupid.
It was a good thing they weren’t in their right mind, then. Hell, Vi couldn’t remember the last time she had been.
Vi made an effort to keep her breathing deep and consistent as she watched her footing along the ledge. This was easily the furthest she’d ever been from the ground, and the narrow ledge that she was shimming across didn’t exactly fill her with a warm sense of security and comfort. It was just wide enough for them to fit their feet on two times over, but the bigger problem was that there was nothing to grip. The shingles that covered the roof were slick with moisture and smooth to the touch. That made things slow going.
Opting to slide against the building with her back against it, Vi couldn’t say that she envied the method that Jayce had concocted for getting the Mercury Hammer up the building. When confronted with the reality that they wouldn’t be able to just pass it to one another like they had back at the lab when they were clambering up exposed exhaust pipes and air ducts, Jayce had rigged up some sort of makeshift back holster to carry it with. Heavy side down towards his feet as opposed to right side up, reducing the risk of a tip-over due to being too top-heavy. It worked well enough as a counterbalance, but it was a decision that she couldn’t imagine his bad leg agreed with. And it put him in situations like this.
While Vi had mostly been able to keep her back braced against the building where she was safer from things like sudden gusts of wind, the length of the warped Mercury Hammer’s handle had all but guaranteed that Jayce would have to face towards the building for the majority of the climb, something that wouldn’t be so much of a problem if not for junctures like the one they were currently stuck in where he was shiming with his back over open air, hefting the full weight of the hammer. And to say that he was struggling through gritted teeth and mounting misery to accomplish their goal of breaching the building undetected would be an understatement.
She’d never seen a person look so tired and still push forward. He was going to crash when this all caught up to him. She just knew it. The question was, would he ever get up again? She hoped he would. Jayce was certainly the toughest Pilte she’d ever laid eyes on.
“So… where to from here?”
“Believe it or not, there’s an access hatch above us. Over there.” Jayce responded, clearly winded. He jerked his head over to their left, towards an area just across from them. About two dozen yards away. They would have to navigate a U-shaped bend in the roof, but Vi was almost positive she could see a ladder of some sort built into the metal roof. “Next to that terrace. It’s used by the maintenance team to upkeep the roofs.”
Vi took a deep breath and held it before exhaling slowly. Then she nodded. The corners were always the hardest part of mansard roofs like these. There was always a point where you didn’t feel like you had anything to grip. Anything at your back. But she had his back, and he had hers. This was nothing. They’d made it this far, hadn’t they?
With a pained grunt, Jayce slung himself around the outer corner of the building, scooting over just enough to allow Vi an unobstructed route around behind him. He pressed his head against the cold metal, panting as she came to a stop close to him, nearly bumping him but catching herself at the last second by slamming her shoulder into the roof. They gave one another a look of reassurance before wordlessly opting to continue forward. At least there would be no more outer corners to contend with going forward.
That was the hard part. Two more to go.
The pair slowly made their way along the edge of the roof, rounding the second corner with ease. Vi had never considered herself to be a person who was afraid of heights, but… she was undeniably grateful that the darkness made visibility below her poor. And one look over at Jayce told her that he held a similar sentiment and was repressing it through sheer willpower. There was a wild, disjointed look in his eyes that spoke of adrenaline intoxication and a lack of coherent thought. Only his mission remained. Only his devotion to the task at hand. He was a man possessed.
Reaching the threshold of the final turn, the pair suddenly became aware of something. A noise. The gentle rustling of fabric as it parted, and the clink of something vaguely metallic against stone. It wasn’t loud, just barely enough to be perceptible over their own panting and heaving. But it did grab their attention. And with it came the vague silhouette of someone coming out onto the terrace, accompanied by a second individual. And with them, the sudden realization that they might be visible if their unexpected company only dared look to the left just that little bit too far.
Scrambling in response to their sudden vulnerability, the two raced for some semblance of cover, eager to escape their compromised state. They darted around the final corner, Vi nearly losing her footing as her left foot slipped. Jayce reached back and grabbed her, his eyes wide and petrified with fear as the sudden realization that she could’ve died then and there hit him like a cinder block. He went rigid as she used him as leverage to get both feet back on the ground, his ears ringing from the cacophonous sound of his heart hammering in his chest. His stomach sank in waves that only seemed to abate as she shook off her near-death experience, and he suppressed the chills that seeing it had given him.
Thoroughly shaken to the core but otherwise unharmed, the duo braced themselves against the side of the roof, leaning forward so that they were as flat as possible. The lip of the portion of the roof that overhung the terrace shielded them from view from just about any angle where they now stood, but it was better to be safe than sorry. But then a set of voices spoke up. Their unexpected guests were speaking.
Shimming forward slightly, they ducked back around the side of the building, just close enough to be able to hear their voices and conclude that a conversation was, indeed, taking place, but not close enough to be able to make out the details. But from where they were now, that was enough. And the tone of the conversation seemed to be surprisingly… pleasant? Well, that was unexpected.
“Is that…” Jayce whispered as low as he possibly could, his voice barely more than a distant memory upon his lips. Vi had to lean in to hear him, but once she did, she bent back as far as she could without risking slipping and then turned back to him, nodding as she rested back against the building.
“Ambessa. Yeah… Vi's response was somehow even quieter than his had been. She sounded almost baffled, but that was due to the fact that she could see what was transpiring on the terrace. Vi’s face didn’t give it away, but she saw something taking place that utterly bewildered her. Was Ambessa… flirting? She recognized that look in someone’s eyes anywhere. She’d given a similar look to Caitlyn down in the depths of the Undercity the day they’d first met. In the hallway of a certain brothel, when she’d asked her a particularly important question… “Dressed pretty casual for a warlord, but hey, I guess even dirtbags have to relax sometimes, huh?”
“Uh-huh.” It was all Jayce could muster the energy to say. He was too focused on keeping his breathing inaudible, the pain in his back becoming more and more intolerable with each passing moment. It was bad enough when they were moving. The slight displacement of his body weight as he swayed back and forth along the ledge compensated for it ever so slightly. But standing still? That was another matter entirely. He wished that he could take it off. Lean it against the building for just a moment so that he could bask in the blessed sense of relief that his aching body so desperately craved, but he couldn’t. There was no way to reattach it from their current position. Not without Vi risking another fall. He would have to ride it out and try to ignore it. He just hoped Ambessa was a fast talker.
Vi continued to observe the conversation from where she stood, trying her best to eavesdrop and take in the contents of the conversation. And oh, did she. She couldn’t help but notice the glint in Ambessa’s eyes, even from a distance. The way she reached up to affectionately stroke Viktor’s face. It was enough to make her blush from a mile away. All the while keeping a hand on Jayce’s back, helping to keep him anchored in place.
Jayce looked about ready to crack, his chest heaving from the effort required to stand there and allow the Mercury Hammer to pull down on his damaged back. But he stayed still, knowing that if he made a sound or moved that it would all be for naught. He refused to fail. They were too close. Even if the pain was unbearable and tormented every intake of breath he dared steal, he would not break. He had a promise to keep.
And then Viktor spoke up.
Like he’d been struck by a jolt of electricity, Jayce jerked his head in the direction of the terrace, his ears almost literally perking up. He knew that sound anywhere, even if his tone was softer than he was used to. Jayce couldn’t see anything from where he stood, but the sound of Viktor’s voice, oh, it was like a balm to his wounds. Like the cold water he’d craved every moment he’d been in that cave. As enticing as it was captivating. It was enough. Everything he needed. And at the same time, it was anything but.
Still. Some small, illogical part of his heart perked up at the thought that he was so close to Viktor. He couldn’t look upon him. But he wished so dearly that he could. He wanted to know how he was doing. What he was doing. If he was alright. If Ambessa had harmed him during his captivity. Had he changed? And if so, was he still himself? “Soon,” he reassured himself. Soon.
As swiftly as they had wandered out onto the terrace, they retreated, taking any signs that they had ever been there with them. And despite the temporary nature of it, something about their departure wounded Jayce. He… wanted to hear Viktor speak again. He couldn’t understand a single word that he’d spoken the entire time he’d been out there, but what he did understand was that he needed to hear more of it. Of the rich, almost otherworldly tone of voice he spoke in, his keen intellect, and the dignified manner in which he spoke. Viktor had always been so intelligent, so keen and quick-witted. It had made their fun-natured little verbal sparring matches such an enriching pastime. He missed…
Jayce huffed, more a snarl than anything else. Snapping back to reality as he mentally chastised himself for indulging his wanton nostalgia. There was no time for this kind of weakness. He couldn’t allow it. Not for his sake. Not for anyone else's. They needed to proceed. The coast was clear now. It was time they breached the compound. He had a job to do.
—
The bedroom was quiet, almost resplendent with its comfortably low lighting, and the gentle breeze provided by the rear windows. He imagined he’d find it quite comfortable if he still possessed the capacity to. But he was in no such headspace. This was not the time. And it hadn’t been for a long while.
Still, he ran his fingers down the gently draped fabric that adorned the bed, attempting to appreciate its texture as it beckoned him. Ushering him closer with all the enrapturing beauty of a lure atop the head of an anglerfish.
Getting in bed with Ambessa Medarda was risky. Doing so in a literal sense, even more so.
And yet, despite how unappealing that prospect was, it was a prospect nonetheless. Viktor had seen her mind. Seen the way she formulated plans and went about achieving her goals. Her ambitions went far beyond Piltover and Zaun. A war was coming, one that he had no desire to participate in, and yet one he could no sooner run from than stop altogether.
Or perhaps he could…
Perhaps, if he were to join forces with Ambessa, he could entice her to steer things in an entirely different direction? One filled with peaceful acquisitions of power and far less bloodshed. Perhaps the Undercity could be persuaded to temporarily bend the knee to her if it meant independence? He certainly wouldn’t be the one to ask that of them, and it wasn’t a proposition that he would propose, but he saw no way through this that didn’t end in a massacre. They simply couldn’t stop what was coming. They didn’t have the resources or the numbers that she did. And he didn’t want to see the tidal waves of ashes and blood that would run through the streets of the place he still called home.
… Viktor would consider giving Ambessa what she wanted if it saved the people of Zaun from certain calamity. He could be their martyr and their savior instead of their Herald, her plaything if need be. Anything to stop the senseless waste of life. The suffering of innocents. They deserved better lives. Lives not spent under the heel of oppression and debasement. If there was any chance that joining forces with Ambessa could allow him to give them that…
He needed ample time to think it over, but he only had until tomorrow night.
Hanging his head low, he bent his knees and allowed his body to come to rest on the mattress. It was darkly comedic in a way. How many would willfully stand where he now stood. How many others that would be more than willing to fight and die for what they would consider an honor; so many who already probably had. And she’d simply offered it to him out of what he understood to be a genuine desire for his companionship. She found him desirable. Yet, there was no part of him that wanted this. That wanted anything to do with the very concept of violence and his place in it. He did not despise Ambessa, despite how many reasons he had to. Viktor understood the path that had been carved out before her, and the steps that had led them both here. Fate was a cruel thing. Her’s was a path etched in stone long before she knew she walked it; she only knew one way to be. But he did not desire to be her war trophy any more than he desired her, no matter how captivating he admittedly found her intelligence to be.
Moments later, the door opened, interrupting his self-destructive train of thought. As though some force had seen where his idle mind had wandered to and chosen to take pity on him. A rarity.
“Brooding again, are we?” Came the words of a familiar scientist. He almost appeared to be vaguely amused by the fact that some things never seemed to change, regardless of how long they’d known one another. Viktor remained predictable in some respects, no matter how much his exterior had changed. And his mind was often as much of a boon as it was a curse when it came to agonizing over the finer details of life. “You always did have a habit of getting lost in your mind. Especially when left alone.”
“Doctor Reveck.” Viktor didn’t move from his slouched position on the edge of the bed, but he did lift his head slightly to look at the man who had once been his mentor. “Your research is going well, I assume?”
Singed gave him a thoughtful look. Or as much of one as the exposed upper part of his face could display, at least. It didn’t surprise him that Viktor knew that he had plans for the samples he had taken from him, but it was somewhat unusual for his former pupil to inquire as to the status of his experiments. He’d always made a habit of distancing himself from them after his first experience with the darker side of science. It was easier to sleep at night amidst the lull of blissful ignorance. Or, conceivably, it was more of a salve to treat a wound that never quite mended. Singed had always pondered if ripping off that particular bandage at such a tender age had been a positive or negative formative experience for Viktor. He was willing to take some guesses as to what the younger of the two would say if asked. He’d given it little thought at the time, but… Reality was painful.
“The samples I procured from you have been fascinating to study. Promising, even.” He admitted almost excitedly. Just as he’d expected they would be. Viktor’s physiology was far too complex and captivating for any knowledge derived from his blood to be anything but. Singed wished there was a way to do more invasive studies on him without… undesirable consequences. There was much he could glean from him. “If I might?”
Before the alchemist could produce the small fabric bundle in which he kept his spare vials and syringes, Viktor had already extended his arm. At least Singed was asking this time. He nodded, joining him at his bedside as he grasped his wrist and carefully searched for a place to insert the needle. It seemed that his tests required a bit more research material.
“And what do you hope to achieve, exactly?” Viktor inquired indifferently, searching for something to focus on besides the dull throb that he now felt in his forearm. He risked a glimpse and regretted it almost instantly. Judging by the size of the needle, he suspected that this would be quite uncomfortable if he had a fuller grasp of his senses. Even now, it was worse than the last time, and it had been vaguely unpleasant then, even under partial sedation. The trouble was just how far Doctor Reveck had to insert the needle before he hit his target. It was a wonder that he managed to locate a serviceable vein or artery at all. Viktor had never been an easy mark for blood draws, even before his… modifications.
The alchemist pondered the question momentarily, keenly focused on his task. His tone was distant as he gradually pulled back the plunger. Almost as though he half expected to receive nothing for his efforts. But after his task was complete and the needle was removed, he afforded him a glance and a measured response. “The revival of something that the world is worse off for having lost.”
Viktor recalled the glimpse into Doctor Reveck’s mind that he’d been afforded. The beautifully decorated room of a small child, a young girl. Fresh flowers sat near her bedside, if the ornate, coffin-like glass capsule she inhabited could be considered one. The dutiful way that her father had lingered at her bedside, diligently reading to her as he attended to her needs in whatever way that he could. She’d been unresponsive, as though dreaming. Unchanging. Perpetually enduring. No longer affected by the ravages of time, but robbed of the life she’d never been afforded the opportunity to live. But his former mentor had gazed at her with nothing but love and adoration, his conviction to save her unchanging. No matter what it took. And Viktor truly believed that he would do anything.
… He knew someone else like Doctor Reveck…
“May I ask you something, Doctor Reveck?” Viktor asked almost gently, his tone carrying an air of respect befitting of anyone who knew that they were about to broach upon a delicate topic.
Singed finished placing the vials that he’d filled back into their holster, rolling the bundle back up and tucking it away inside one of the many different pouches that he kept attached to his waist. He then turned his full attention back to Viktor with a subtle sigh, half certain that he knew where he was going with this, but still curious all the same.
“You may.”
Viktor mulled over his next words carefully. He did not think that upsetting his former mentor would be easy, but family was typically a complex and unwelcome topic, and for a man like Doctor Reveck, it had the potential to be very much so. He liked to think that the older man was not quick to take offense, given the many years he’d known him, but he also didn’t possess the foggiest idea as to what he kept in any of those syringes, and the prospect of being drugged a second time was undesirable, to say the least.
“Would your actions sit right with your daughter? Do you not wish for her to look upon you with pride?” It was the most honest way that Viktor could phrase the query. Surely he had considered what her reaction to what he had done to save her would be? Surely he cared a great deal about what she thought of him? Didn’t every parent who was worth knowing?
Singed sighed, exhaling softly as he gave a series of thoughtful nods. It was a good question. And he certainly had an answer: “It is not about whether she agrees with me. It is that she is alive to disagree that matters most.”
He didn’t elaborate further. Instead, he regarded Viktor silently. Contemplatively. As though he were waiting for something from him.
Something about the sincerity of the response struck Viktor, his breath stilling as he assessed the unfamiliar combination of emotions that he now felt. Humans were, by their very nature, contradictory creatures. Filled with defects. And yet, the knowledge, the concrete understanding that Doctor Reveck had just expressed, was something that neither surprised nor consoled him. His love for his daughter superseded his desire for her to accept him. Even after everything that he had done to save her, there was every possibility that she might leave him again for everything that he had done to her, and from the well-founded fear of what he might do next. Logic clashed with reason. A reappearing fallacy that he’d started to notice as of late. But one so inherent to the human condition that he could not reconcile it. Was it an act of bravery to do something that might damn oneself to a lifetime of regret? A selfless act born of the unspeakable depths of love? Or was it covetousness, pure and utter hubris to believe that one could undo the strands of fate and nature and defy death itself? Was it neither here nor there and yet both in equal measure still?
He’d been questioning that himself every day since he’d reawakened, wondering why he had been denied the painless relief that death’s quiet embrace had offered him. Every day since he’d wandered away from his former life in Piltover. Every sleepless night spent within the confines of the greenhouse he’d constructed at the commune wondering where his partner had disappeared to. And he still didn’t have the answer.
Viktor understood enough to know he would never truly comprehend it until he was confronted with that same quandary. He liked to believe that he didn’t have it in him. That he could simply let go and accept that this was the way things were meant to be. And yet, some small voice in the back of his mind whispered those chilling words into his ear from the depths of his subconscious. Possibly. And this time, it wasn’t the Hexcore speaking to him. What if the roles had been reversed that night? What if he had lived, and Jayce had… It was a reality too grave to even ponder.
He hoped that he never needed to find out.
And yet, nothing was more certain to him than the reality that he would offer Jayce his forgiveness if he ever asked it of him. It wasn’t a matter of whether his actions were justifiable or understandable. It was simply something he knew in the very core of his being. An understanding that he’d come to over time as the despair and outrage had subsided and evolved into something more bearable. Peace was just something he wanted Jayce to have. Something he’d once given him. A semblance of serenity only he could grant, and he was waiting with open arms to shelter him in his embrace should the opportunity ever present itself.
“... I think I understand.” He nodded, unsure as to which of them he was even addressing anymore. Who was this meant to be a revelation to? “I may even know someone who shares that sentiment.”
Doctor Reveck scoffed. “I imagine everyone does. They just don’t know it.”
But with that said, Viktor had a follow-up statement to make. Not quite a question, but an admission. Something he needed to get off his chest. It had been bothering him for a while now. Ever since he’d discovered that his former mentor had never told him about his daughter. Had he done something to make himself seem untrustworthy? Unworthy of such knowledge in the eyes of his teacher? “You could’ve just asked me.”
“Asked you?” Singed gave him a curious look. As though he genuinely didn’t understand what he could be going on about.
“For my help. With curing her illness.” Viktor insisted gently, his tone somewhere between supplication and confusion. While it was true that he knew little of biology in comparison to his mentor, he had connections that he didn’t. And if the many years he’d spent working alongside Jayce had taught him anything, it was that collaboration could be a powerful tool when the right individuals were put into contact with one another. A different perspective could’ve made all the difference in his experiments. “I would have told you yes. I do not have to agree with your methods to understand your principles and motivations. I would have assisted your research willingly, to the extent that I could stomach it.”
It was impossible to tell from underneath the linen wrappings that wound around the bottom of his face and the improvised scarf that covered them, but Viktor almost swore that he saw Doctor Reveck crack a smile. “I know.”
“You never told me about her.” He wouldn’t ask why. It wasn’t something he desired to know, frankly. More something that he was surprised by than anything. He would not call himself close with Singed, but he would still assume himself to be closer to the man than perhaps anyone else. Few people called him by his title. Fewer still knew his name. The fact that he had a daughter had never been so much as been mentioned to him in passing, and he found that curious, to say the least. Was the topic simply too painful? Was her existence a closely guarded secret? Was there something more to it than that, and he simply didn’t grasp the notion?
He wished that he could delve further into the topic with him without pouring salt into what was undoubtedly an open wound.
Doctor Reveck gave a subtle shrug, offhandedly acknowledging the truthfulness of that statement. There was much that Singed could say on the topic if he truly wanted to. Not least of all, the irony of another brilliant yet afflicted child the same age as his daughter stumbling into his life. Just as innocent. It was as if Viktor had been presented to him by the universe as a peace offering for what it had already taken from him. A facsimile. And now, potentially the sole person in existence with the capability to provide his daughter with the salvation he’d spent the last few decades seeking. And how little he wanted to make that choice should the need arise. As if it were a choice at all. But, that was a conversation for a different time. Now was not the time or the place, and he wasn’t sure that such an occasion would ever organically present itself. He wasn’t known to be forthcoming.
“The past is a painful place filled with mistakes and regrets that have an unfortunate tendency to always come back to haunt you when you least expect it.” Doctor Reveck said darkly, ostensibly amused by the harsh truth of that reality. It was the story of his life. Of both of their lives, actually.
Viktor regarded him silently for a minute or so, deep in thought. There was something he wanted to add to that sentiment, actually. But as he opened his mouth to speak, he stopped. Viktor felt something. It was subtle, but then it rapidly became less so. The distant, distorted sound of a deep, bellowing boom followed by the aftershock it produced. A powerful vibration that traveled through every structural surface of the room, sending a shudder through the supports. And then, all at once, he realized that it wasn’t quite as far away as he’d first imagined. The sturdy construction of the Capitol building had simply stifled the volume of its reverberance. Whatever was to blame for that tremor was nearby.
Standing cautiously, Viktor gestured for Doctor Reveck to stay where he was, gingerly making his way to the door as if the sound of his footsteps would attract something unwanted. He pulled the door open slowly, taking a breath before hesitantly sticking his head out to behold what lay beyond the threshold of the room he inhabited. And it struck him immediately.
He felt the air shift, crackling with partially spent energy as something discharged. Something powered by the Arcane. The familiar crackle of Hextech. The sound of a weapon. Something charging up, ready to make impact. He stepped back, nearly slamming the door as he made space between himself and the door, unsure as to what was to happen but unwilling to be in the direct blast radius. And not a second too soon. Just as he took his third step away from the door, it suddenly disintegrated in a burst of vibrant blue energy, sending him toppling to the floor and rolling back against the head of the bed he’d been sitting on not a minute before. If he’d remained where he had been, things might’ve been quite different.
Viktor settled onto his haunches, turning his attention to the door. Panting, but otherwise unharmed. He blinked away the dust in his eyes, glancing over to see Doctor Reveck, surprised but likewise unharmed. Viktor then returned his attention to the source of the explosion and studied the remains of the wall where the door had once been with feverish intensity. Waiting. Listening intently. Something was coming.
The plume of smoke gradually settled as a figure stepped through the ruined doorway, crunching shattered pieces of plaster and stone underfoot. And as the air finally cleared and some semblance of visibility returned, a familiar face revealed itself from beyond the dust.
Viktor could hardly believe his eyes.
—
Reclining upon the long lounge that she had retired to at the end of their discussion, Ambessa indulged in another glass of wine. The bottle sat mostly empty, but she was far from inebriated. Years of unconventional eating and drinking habits had made her quite resistant to things like food poisoning and alcohol poisoning. But she’d opened the bottle, so she intended to enjoy it at her leisure. Sipping slowly as she basked in the faint moonlight.
Tonight had been fun.
The little Herald -Viktor- had vacated her quarters not long ago, depriving her of his enchanting presence, and a much-needed source of potential entertainment. He was a surprisingly engaging conversation partner for someone so youthful, so new to the ways of the world. Utterly captivating in a way she couldn’t place, and unlike anyone she’d ever spoken to before.
She absentmindedly hoped that he would take her up on her offer. She wasn’t desperate enough to go and ask a second time. Begging was far beneath her. But her curiosity was thoroughly piqued, and she longed to satiate it. If simple indulgence was what she sought, she had plenty of options. The brothel in Zaun wasn’t closed for business. But that wasn’t the extent of her interest in him.
Truthfully, when she’d captured him, she hadn’t expected to like him this much. Sure, she’d noticed his unconventional appearance, and it had made her curious enough to want to know more, but she’d expected to attempt to recruit him, and then have him dealt with should he oppose her proposal. The dungeons under the Capitol were a great place to house someone unwilling to see reason. A few weeks in the frigid, soundless darkness tended to make people very agreeable or utterly deranged and nothing else in between.
Until she’d heard him speak and had beheld him in his full splendor. Oh, what a mistake that had been.
Now, the prospect of sending him down there was… unappealing. She didn’t particularly relish the concept of seeing him wither away, slowly succumbing to madness and hopelessness as the damp and the silence gnawed away at him like a steady poison. Leaving little trace of the brilliant, if not overly naive, mind she’d started to come to appreciate behind.
She was starting to wonder if she had a secondary preference for beings of unknowable magical potential. For one who lacked arcane gifts, she always seemed to find herself surrounded by those who possessed them.
There was suddenly a knock at the door.
“Enter.” She said almost dismissively, her thoughts still largely preoccupied. The door opened as soon as permission was given, and a familiar figure stepped within, closing the door behind himself. Ambessa sighed.
It was not the late-night visitor that she was hoping to receive.
Ambessa regarded Rictus curiously, instantly taking note of the hint of displeasure in his demeanor. It was subtle, but she’d known the man far longer than most, and she knew what to look for. Whatever he had to say to her wasn’t something she was going to be pleased to hear. As if the hour he was coming to interrupt her at wasn’t evidence enough of that fact.
“What is this about?”
Rictus straightened, nodding in response to the inquiry. “We’ve received notice. Salo has been located.”
Now, that wasn’t what she’d expected him to say at all.
They’d been looking for him for a little while now. After he’d disappeared from one of the establishments that he frequented after she’d nominated Caitlyn to stand in a position of power instead of him. It had almost been funny at the time. How did they manage to lose track of a man in his condition? But they had, nonetheless. Last she’d heard, Viktor had been the last to see him. He’d been accounted for. But she didn’t get the impression that this was good news, regardless. “And I can only surmise by the look on your face that he is no longer breathing?”
Rictus shook his head, confirming her suspicion. “He was found by a maintenance team assessing the condition of the Hexgate. He’d been slain. Butchered. Apparently, with a swift, savage blow to the back of the head.”
So it wasn’t the little wolf, then. I’d scarcely be willing to believe that he could wield a weapon, much less be capable of that. She mused to herself as she considered Rictus’s revelation. She imagined there were plenty of people in the Undercity who might have it out for the former council member, but even still… that was a particularly savage way to go.
“Curious…”
“From what we can tell, it occurred a few days ago, just before we arrived in the Undercity.” He added, giving her what little additional information he had. There wasn’t much to work on just yet. The discovery was far too new for there to be anything concrete to work with just yet.
Ambessa placed her wine glass back on the table in front of her and reclined back against the lounge, considering something. This was a startling and unwelcome turn of events, indeed. Perhaps they should strengthen their guard patrols for the time being. The death of a counselor in Zaun… This could cause quite a stir if the public caught wind of it. She needed to control the narrative around this. Shape it to their advantage instead of allowing it to work against them. Keep things quiet for now.
“Very well. Come morning, we should-”
She didn’t get to finish speaking. Both of them fell silent instantly. It was faint from this distance, but they could still feel the vestiges of it as the building quaked from the aftershock of something powerful. There had just been an explosion on the far side of the Capitol building.
—
Their entry into the building had been smooth. Utterly flawless. Until it wasn’t.
They’d dropped down from the access hatch in the roof and then made their way down into the main building through a maintenance stairwell near the central elevator shafts. Slowly and methodically, they’d checked each floor of the building for signs of Noxian activity until they’d found precisely what they were looking for. The very same floor of the building that they’d seen from the outside as they’d sought a route in. Only this time, they were on the opposite wing of the building. But that hardly mattered. There was no doubt in their mind that this was the right place.
The fact that they were guarding something was obvious. The sheer number of guards stationed on this wing in particular, as opposed to all the others, was a dead giveaway. And one could only hope that they only had one thing worth devoting that much energy towards safekeeping.
It quickly devolved into a game of ducking into various unoccupied rooms that had mostly been repurposed into sleeping quarters to stay out of the line of sight of passing patrols. They would wait nervously for a guard to pass, keeping as still and silent as possible before rounding a corner and checking every available room, only to find them empty. And then they would press on to the next. And the next. And another until they silently started to wonder the same thing.
Was this entire area a diversion?
Jayce glanced back at Vi, clearly disheartened by their lack of progress. He couldn’t recall how long they’d been searching, but it felt like ages. Call it the product of a racing heart and an anxious mind, but he wanted this to be done with. Wanted to find Viktor and finish what he’d come there to do. But then he didn’t, really. Jayce didn’t want this for either of them. He’d always been Viktor’s protector, his unceasing advocate who would happily protect him from anything. And now, he was a destructive force of nature sent to annihilate him. To undo him. It went against everything in him, but he’d seen what would come to pass should he fail. Should he break his promise. Should he make the mistake of buckling under the pressure.
He would make it swift. Painless. Hopefully.
His jaw clenched as Vi closed another door, turning back to him. She shook her head. She didn’t need to speak the words. Nothing. Once again, they would need to proceed further. Empty-handed. They would press on.
And then, as they’d persisted towards the cross section between two halls, it overcame him, slamming into him all at once with utterly overwhelming force. Another attack, much like the others, only this time, it was far worse. The most overwhelming one he’d experienced thus far. Jayce buckled to the ground, crashing to his knees as they gave out underneath him, clutching his head to try and suppress the agonized volleys of largely incomprehensible nonsense by which he was being assaulted. He panted heavily, groaning in pain as he dug his jagged, chipped fingernails into his scalp to try to gain purchase over his fraying sanity, clinging to anything that might anchor him in place amidst the relentless torment inflicted upon him. He wasn’t sure if he was bleeding, and he didn’t care.
His breath came in heavy huffs, forcing air back into him. Gradually, it eased. Torturously, it lessened. Until he could open his eyes again. Though his sight evaded him still until his eyes could fully readjust. His pupils were blown out, allowing far too much light in. He couldn’t see anything. Couldn’t hear. His heart hammered in his chest like it was going to explode. He pressed them closed again, his teeth clenching down on the inside of his cheek as he shuddered and attempted to pull himself back to his feet.
Viktor was close by. He just knew it.
Jayce suddenly felt an enormous hand on his shoulder. It gripped him firmly, steadying him in place as though the individual it belonged to was frightened that he would topple over and perish prematurely without their assistance. Jayce turned his head towards the source of the touch, squinting as he forced his eyes to open just enough to be able to see who was touching him.
It was Vi.
“Hey, are you okay?” She asked, her confusion and worry evident even at a glance. The simple truth of the matter was that she had no clue what was wrong with him. He’d kept her in the dark, unwilling and truthfully unable to bring himself to discuss the circumstances surrounding his disappearance. She had functional eyes. She could tell that nothing good had come of whatever he’d had the misfortune of experiencing. But she’d never seen anyone behave in the way that he just had. And it was clear that his symptoms were not purely psychosomatic. Whatever force tormented him was causing him physical pain, and its presence was wholly unwelcome. Especially under the current circumstances.
Jayce blinked lethargically, shaking his head as he reached up and rubbed his eyes with his free hand. His palm felt rough against his eyelids, but he hardly noticed. The sudden well of nausea settling into his gut served as a formidable distraction.
“Yeah, I’m…” He shuddered as he spoke, forcing himself to shake off the sense of disquietment that came hand in hand with what he’d just experienced. He took note of the mixture of concern and confusion in Vi’s face as she looked at him, almost squinting as though she were examining him. And then her gaze shifted to something behind him.
“Good. Because we have company.”
Turning to follow her gaze, Jayce came face to face with a small group of soldiers garbed in an all too familiar set of red and black attire. The Noxians had found them, more than likely alerted to their presence by Jayce’s sudden bout of anguish. Or perhaps they’d just lingered for too long in one spot. It didn’t matter anymore.
And just like that, the time to be quiet had passed.
The group of guards circled them with all the silent menace of a swarm of bloodthirsty sharks smelling fresh blood in the water, weapons raised. Fangs bared. Poised to attack the moment the opportunity presented itself. Twelve vs two, then? That didn’t seem the least bit unfair, did it? But then again, these were Noxian soldiers, elite career soldiers practically bred for battle. They didn’t care for mundane scruples like the concept of a fair fight. They’d been tasked with guarding this hallway, and that was all they cared to do. By whatever means necessary.
Vi and Jayce came close together, backs touching as they watched their enemies for any signs of an opening. For any indication that they might be about to attack. And then, without warning, one of the guards struck.
Lunging towards Vi with their spear drawn, the soldier only narrowly missed his mark as Jayce swiped his legs from under him with the handle of the Mercury Hammer. He crashed to the ground, his face meeting the toe of Vi’s boot as she kicked him out of the way, shooting a thankful look Jayce’s way before raising her gauntlets to full height and powering them up. Jayce grabbed the handle of the handle and pulled it, revealing the maw of the warped instrument as a sort of warning. Making it clear that this was their last chance. It was a warning none of them heeded.
A second guard came at Vi from the opposite side, attempting to catch her in the side with his spear as she sidestepped him effortlessly and turned 180 degrees to the left, winding back and slamming her gauntlet into his face with expert proficiency. Upon impact, he launched backward across the hall and slammed back-first into the wall, taking himself out of commission with a pained groan as he slid down toward the floor and went limp. He was down for the count.
Taking the hint, the next two guards attacked their target at once, one attempting to catch Jayce from the front while the other pincered him from the side. Jayce slammed the open maw of the hammer into the ground below him, causing the Noxian in front of him to reel back in disorientation as the bright light produced by the Arcane corrupted crystal burned his retinas and caused him to stumble. Jayce swung the handle of the hammer backward, catching the second soldier in the jaw with his shoulder as he wound back and raised the weapon to waist height, the head of it swinging low and wide as he braced himself and slammed the hammer’s head into the man standing in front of him. They flew back, crashing into a potted plant, no longer moving as Jayce suddenly pivoted in the direction of the second soldier and, swinging in a wide waist height arch, crashed the weapon into their left side, shattering their armor with a force so strong that it sent a loud metallic ring through the air from the impact.
As the man was launched backward into the floor, slammed downward by the impact of Jayce’s blow, another soldier launched at Vi. She ducked the head of the spear as it nearly grazed her face, missing her ear by only a handful of millimeters. She reached up and grabbed the spear with her right hand and nailed its owner in the chest with a series of punches with her left, a second soldier taking the opportunity to go for the kill. They rushed towards her, intent on stabbing her in the side, but Jayce intervened at the last moment, swinging the head of the Mercury Hammer downward and through the length of the handle of the spear, shearing it in half at the center point. They stumbled and found their way directly into Vi’s foot as she raised it to kick them in the stomach, knocking the wind out of them. They tumbled forward, directly into her grasp as she closed the gauntlet down around their throat like a vice, gripping them tightly and then moving them out in front of her. She slammed them into the other soldier that still remained in the grasp of her right hand, the two making impact with one another across the length of their sides with enough force to render them both breathless. She then reeled back and slammed them both back-first into the ground with the full force of her gauntlets, sending them down into the ground beneath her as it shattered and sent splinters of pulverized stone flying in every direction.
Steam billowed from the gauntlets as a third soldier went flying into the wall behind her, flying over her crouched back as Jayce sidestepped her from the front and used the maw of the hammer to steer his target into a semi-standing position, slamming them back-first into the wall. The plaster splintered like overly dry firewood in a spiderweb pattern as the weapon fired off a blast of energy at point-blank range, propelling the hammer forward with blinding speed. They managed to choke out a gargled, saliva-drowned cry before slumping over. Motionless. Breathless. And they would stay that way if they had any sense of self-preservation.
Seven down. Five to go.
Jayce panted wildly as his back ached worse than it had in recent memory from his sudden burst of activity, his eyes flashing with an unhinged gleam as he took in the remainder of their opponents. They were flanking them in a wide arch, clearly more cautious than they had been previously. But the Noxians were not backing down, and neither were they.
Rushing them all at once, the soldiers attempted to overtake them, earning one of them an uppercut in the jaw courtesy of Vi as she took the heat off of Jayce momentarily. He stepped away from her, making as much room as he could as he cranked the maw of the warped Mercury Hammer open as far as it would go, pulling the handle and locking it into place with a gruff huff of overexertion. His arm burned around where the rune was embedded into it as he pushed past the searing pain he felt in his flesh and charged the hammer up as far as he could stand before bracing his weak leg as best as he could and shooting Vi a determined look. She was handling all five of the guards herself, but she was nearly cornered.
Shaking his head, Jayce groaned. He had an idea. And he didn’t like it.
“Vi, take cover!” He shouted over to her as she shoved one of the guards back and dodged a strike from another, their spear striking the wall behind her as they attempted to strike her across the neck. It clipped the corner of the wall, gouging the molding as she looked over at him and then down at the weapon. Her eyes sparkled with cold, breathless realization as they went wide with horror, and she shoved the soldier in front of her onto his back, falling into a crouch and narrowly dodging another blow from their weapons as she made herself as low as she could. She shouted as the shield engaged just in time, blasting the soldiers around her back and electrifying the one closest to her as the improved protective barrier blanketed her in a field of blue light.
Jayce slammed the hammer down into the floor with all the force he could muster, the floor shuddering as it shattered from the force of the impact it made with the distorted crystal. Deep rifts scored into it as they snaked out in every direction, marking a cross-shaped imprint into the center of the cross-section of the hallway where he stood. A secondary blast of energy emitted from the hammer’s own built-in protective shield as the energy surged out in a radius around it, shattering the glass in every window attached to the hall and blowing several of the doors off their hinges as the building threatened to come undone at the seams. The structure around them quaked as the radius of the blast made contact with Vi’s shield, seemingly amplifying its reach as the vibration intensified, the supports shuddering ferociously. The air was statically charged, vibrating with arcane energy that made every hair on their bodies stand up on end. And then, it fell silent again. All but for the hum of residual otherworldly energy that caused the remains of several small items within its radius to float lazily just above the ground.
Jayce stood there, ears ringing as his heart pounded in his chest. Everything was too bright and far too quiet. Every muscle in his body was blown out and unsteady, his grip at once too tight but not reassuring. He watched Vi clamber to her feet and stumble, careening into a nearby wall headfirst before she shook it off and sprinted down the hallway past him, checking every destroyed door as she went. He half-registered her blowing the hinges off of one of the few doors that remained standing, seeing it and feeling the residual blast more than hearing anything. And then, as though someone had reached over and turned a switch, his hearing returned to him in full force as his head quivered and his ears ached. A sharp burning sensation accompanied it. He flinched, grinding his teeth together before instantly stopping, the sensation too unpleasant in conjunction with everything else for him to withstand.
And then Vi spoke. Shouted at him, frankly. The only sound he could still clearly make out in his current state.
“Jayce, get the hell over here! I found him!”
He didn’t think. He flew.
—
Viktor stared up at Vi like his brain was failing to process the reality that he had suddenly been faced with. Because it was.
He’d been captured by the Noxians and brought to the capital. There were guards everywhere. His location was a veritable unknown to anyone, least of all anyone who hadn’t been at the commune at the time of his abduction. And yet, here she stood. In the doorway, a wide-eyed, victorious sparkle in her eyes as a pleased look spread across her entire face, and her lips quirked up into something resembling a genuine smile. She was happy to see him. But what in the world was she doing here?
Vi stumbled into the room, slightly winded as she came to a stop and leaned against a damaged support post. It had been nicked by some of the debris from the explosion that he now realized had been caused by her gauntlets. Ah yes, the Atlas Gauntlets. Viktor remembered those. But how had they come to be in her possession? And to that end, he remembered them looking slightly different. Having a different paint job? He couldn’t be sure. A matter for another time.
She took deep, labored breaths as he eyed her with concern. Viktor pulled himself to his feet and extended a hand as if to offer to assist her, only to receive a shake of the head in response. She was fine. She didn’t require assistance. Instead, she leaned her head back and closed her eyes. Tired.
Viktor was going to inquire as to what had possessed her to come here, but then he realized that the answer had to be very clear, didn’t it? There was only one thing she could be looking for in this palace. She’d come for-
“Jayce, get the hell over here! I found him!”
Viktor’s entire demeanor changed the instant he heard her speak that name. His eyes shot towards what remained of the doorway, fixed upon the only entry point that the room possessed. Surely, he’d heard her wrong. There was no way that Vi knew Jayce. That Jayce was here. The last time he’d seen him, he’d barely been able to stand, panting and wild-eyed with all the slavering beastliness of a rabid bloodhound. When he’d shattered Salo’s skull like the remains of a festive fall gourd. He simply couldn't…
Vi’s eyes fell from Viktor to Singed, the bandaged man standing slightly off to the side of the room. He’d migrated there during the explosion, keen to get as far out of the potential blast radius as he could manage. But he’d stopped just short of that goal, evaluating the situation silently from a few feet away, lingering near the foot of Viktor’s makeshift bed. He, too, was watching the doorway intently. So he was finally going to get to see this “Jayce” that Viktor never stopped going on about, was he? Intriguing…
Viktor didn’t realize it, but he was holding his breath. His head was spinning, and his heart pounded from a distinct lack of oxygen, but he barely registered it. He was focused on something else entirely. The sound of footsteps as they grew ever closer. He was enraptured, hanging on every footfall as everything else faded into the foreground. And they came softly. Growing louder. With no discernible rhythm as they drew ever closer still. Until the crunch of marble and plaster that had been reduced to little more than gravel crumpled underfoot, and a figure slipped around the corner.
The man who stood before him was covered head to toe in small nicks and scratches. Bruises and patches of skin rubbed raw from unknown sources of abrasion. His clothes were torn, soiled, and ragged, barely holding together under the wear and tear they’d endured. His body was caked in grime and dirt, sweat clinging to him like a bad memory. His oily, unkempt hair was longer than Viktor had ever seen it, plastered to his face from sweat, streaks of salty moisture carving a path through the soot and grime that covered his face, running from his eyes down to his chin and neck. What had once been part of his shirt had been repurposed to craft much-needed bandages that covered a sizable amount of the skin on his leg, holding together some sort of makeshift brace in lieu of something better. He trembled slightly, beyond exhausted. Barely holding together.
He was battered, bruised, and broken. But it was Jayce nonetheless.
Jayce had always been so particular about his appearance. Not out of vanity or even an abundance of ego or pride, but because he enjoyed being perceived positively. It was a performance that he indulged in partially for himself, but largely for the benefit of others who might judge him should he be anything less. A subconscious act that he’d never put much thought into beyond affirming that this was how he wanted to look. But there was no semblance of that left now. This was not a man who cared even a little for how he was perceived. This was what remained of him, all the indulgence of gold and standing shorn away to reveal the stripped bare bones underneath. All that was left of a person who had been so utterly destroyed by circumstance that to expend the effort necessary to care about indulgences like their appearance seemed so petty that they were deemed utterly unimportant.
Viktor stared at him intently, his eyes softening into something gentle. Something full of fondness as he basked in the sight of him. He took a tentative step towards him, as though he were attempting not to frighten a timid animal. Jayce’s eyes darted towards him, alarmed. Searching for something. And the moment they fell over him, they changed into something he’d never seen before.
Jayce stared in Viktor’s general direction, his pupils wide as his dim, hazel eyes gleamed in the soft evening light. Jayce’s tired mind could barely comprehend the vaguest outline of him, his eyes failing to take in any details as his head suddenly found its way back into his hands. The last thing he saw before he was assaulted by yet another wave of Arcane agony was the subtle look of horror that overtook Viktor’s face.
Gritting his teeth as he flinched in ceaseless, excruciating pain, he grasped the handle of the hammer for dear life, nearly teetering over as his head throbbed. The pain was uniquely unbearable this time, his mind pulling in fragmented directions as the distinct sensation of something white hot peeling back his flesh overcame him. All at once, it felt as though the very tissue and sinew that his brain and skull were composed of were being ripped apart and lit aflame, his vision going white as a kaleidoscope of distorted, otherworldly imagery attacked his vision. He hyperventilated, raking his fingers through his hair and down his face as he released his grip on the hammer, everything spinning around him as it slumped over onto the floor. He whimpered almost pathetically, barely resisting the urge to audibly beg for it to stop. Or so he thought as a single, breathless plea escaped from under his breath, barely perceptible but heard all the same.
Please, just… stop.
Both Vi and Viktor moved to take a step towards him, but as they did so, they were interrupted. The sound of thumping, thundering steps became apparent, something that had gone entirely unnoticed amidst everything else going on. Vi glanced over in the general direction of the ruined doorway, shaking her head. She didn’t like this.
“At the risk of saying something stupidly obvious, we need to get the hell out of here.” She said as she looked between Viktor and Jayce, making a mental note of just how stuck between a rock and a hard place she truly was. Neither of her companions could exactly run, at least to her knowledge. Viktor had been walking with some sort of walking stick back at the commune, and Jayce was… well, Jayce. This wasn’t new information to her, but it did feel especially pertinent given the current, very potentially dire circumstances. How were they going to get out of here before reinforcements arrived?
But it was only after she’d spoken that she realized she should’ve stayed silent. The footsteps stopped. And a moment later, a towering figure stepped through the doorway, ducking as he entered. He straightened, taking in the sight of the intruders with a self-affirming nod as he drew his spear, seemingly unbothered by the prospect of doing battle against them.
It was Rictus.
The large man glanced over at Viktor and Singed, taking note of something that he didn’t verbally elaborate on before his eyes settled on Jayce. But the moment he took a step towards him, the sound of steam being expelled caught his attention. His eyes drifted over to Vi, the messy-haired woman now standing in the center of the room, fists clenched as the gauntlets powered up as high as they would go. A grim, unmistakably serious look on her face. She adjusted her neck, rolling her shoulders as she assumed a fighting stance, uncurling the fingers on her right gauntlet as she curled them in towards herself, beckoning her new opponent to challenge her.
“Come on, big guy. Why don’t you pick on someone more in your weight class, huh?” Her conviction was ironclad, even if her eyes betrayed her fear.
Rictus’s eyes skimmed over Jayce a final time, taking note of the way he continued to labor under the effects of… something before opting to humor her. Now, this would surely be an interesting fight, to say the least.
With a grunt, Rictus charged her. If it was a fight she wanted, he would grant her a warrior’s death.
Jayce stirred from his stupor, the sound of metal clanking against metal pulling him from the haze he’d been rendered catatonic by. He blinked, startled as his heart raced and his breathing remained unsteady. His head throbbed as though he’d been struck in the center of the brain with a blunt object, but he blinked and exhaled regardless, groaning. But the first thing that his eyes settled upon snapped him back to reality almost instantly.
Viktor stood only a meter or so away from him, his eyes fixed upon him in a state of silent, solemn reverie. His right arm slowly extended with the clear intention of touching him. For what purpose didn’t matter to him. All that Jayce knew was that he would not allow him to do so.
Practically jumping away from him, he stumbled backward and nearly into Singed, the older man having made his way around the outer wall of the makeshift bedroom and towards the door. Viktor shot the older man a curious look, his gaze averting from Jayce for but a moment as his pupils dilated, his irises flashing a litany of shades of browns, silvers, and pinks as he stepped past Jayce and stopped the older man in his tracks, communicating something to him with a look that Jayce could not see. Singed sighed softly and lowered his arm, tucking something back into his back pocket. It seemed that he’d intended Jayce harm, even if only out of a misplaced sense of self-preservation.
And then, Viktor turned his attention back to Jayce, his eyes scanning him as though he were evaluating something. His eyes drifted lower, and when they fell upon the sight of his injured leg in particular, his brow furrowed. His eyes then met his again, and Jayce found himself mesmerized. The light in the room was dim, but he noticed it immediately, even if he could not make out the fine details. Viktor looked different. More so than he’d ever imagined he would. His skin was still the same as he recalled it being from their last meeting, still warped by the arcane power of the Hexcore, but… he’d never seen Viktor’s hair quite that long before. It was…
Viktor extended his hand slowly, attempting to touch him again. A softness in his eyes that was undeniable as his gaze lulled him in, wordlessly assuring him that he would find only comfort in his embrace. Inviting him to rest. His lips quirked up in a soft, welcoming smile as Viktor beheld him fondly. He almost seemed to radiate a welcoming presence, bathed in a soft, warm glow. But not in the way that Jayce recalled. Not with the same warmth. Not with the same eyes that he had always been so very fond of.
Suddenly, as if possessed by some otherworldly force, Jayce snarled furiously and gripped the handle of the hammer, watching as Viktor’s hand recoiled sheepishly, his expression asking the wordless question that so clearly lingered on his mind. What did I do wrong? But before he could wonder, Jayce raised the ruined Mercury Hammer and pressed it against Viktor, causing him to stumble backward from the force he applied as he found himself pinned at chest height against the pillar that Vi had been resting against only a few moments prior.
Vi ducked a blow from Rictus’s spear, jumping to the right as he arched the tip towards her head, narrowly missing her face as he sheared a section of the front of her hair off. She blinked in surprise as she retaliated with a punch that she blocked with his weapon, shooting a glance over towards Jayce as if to request backup. But what she saw instead caused her brain to sputter so spectacularly that she was immediately tripped up by Rictus and found herself tumbling back, her opponent grasping her by her coat collar as he headbutted her and she tumbled to the ground with a huff. She rolled, shaking off the blow as she spat blood from her bleeding lip onto the ground next to her, using her shoulder to wipe the blood running from her nose out of her mouth. Now, that was a familiar taste.
“Jayce, what the hell are you doing?!” She yelled, bewildered by the sight before her. She hadn’t the slightest idea what the hell had suddenly gotten into him, but this was most certainly not what she had signed up for. She was under the impression that they were there to save the man responsible for her wayward father’s improvement, not end his life. And for what? Was it even possible that things between the two of them could be that irreparable, especially after everything she’d seen in Jayce’s journal? She knew for a fact that there was still love there, at least on Jayce’s end. How could he even consider…
Vi would’ve been more overtly frustrated by Jayce’s lack of a response if Rictus hadn’t immediately taken the opportunity to retaliate, forcing her to roll out of the way of his next blow as she jumped back to her feet, powering up a blow that sent her launching forward into him. It connected, hitting him in the gut, but he barely budged, shoving her back as he shook off the blow, just barely winded. She’d managed to put a sizable dent in his armor, but little else. It looked like she was going to have to punch him a little harder than that. Good. She intended to.
Amidst all of the commotion, she caught a glimpse of Doctor Reveck slipping out of the room, shooting what appeared to be a troubled look over towards Viktor as he seemingly pondered something before slipping away to alert reinforcements. So that confirmed her suspicions about him back at the commune, then. He was working with the Noxians. That old man was precisely who she thought he might be. That couldn’t be good…
But Jayce paid little mind to any of that, if any at all. He grasped the handle of the warped Mercury Hammer, cranking the maw open as far as it would allow, biting down on the inside of his cheek as that familiar burn returned to his forearm. The feeling of the weapon drawing power from the rune embedded into his very flesh. The searing heat was only barely bearable as he used all of his strength to hold up the weapon, akin to a white hot brand. Proof of the vow he’d made. The one he would not break.
There was a certain cruel irony to it. To the fact that this would be the second time that a Hextech weapon would take his partner’s life. The very thing their research together had culminated in. The very thing Viktor had never wanted Jayce to make. Jayce shook his head, banishing the thought.
Jayce forced himself to recall everything that had led him to his moment. He remembered the ruined state of the world he had dragged himself through on a broken leg and an even more broken spirit. The soul-stifling darkness of that wretched cave and its litany of torments. The silent hell he’d lingered in as hopelessness settled into his very bones like root rot, intensifying a pitiless ache that never truly went away. He recalled the insurmountable heights he’d scaled to reach the top of what remained of the Hexgates. Of the promise to stop Viktor that he’d made to the man who had saved his life and the life of his mother all those years ago. Of the weakness he could not allow to undo his resolve. Jayce summoned all the hatred and vitriol he could muster and pressed the hammer down harder.
And then he met Viktor’s eyes.
They were brown again. That same golden brown that he’d always been so enraptured by. Only this time, they were filled with something he’d never seen in them before. Absolute, undying horror. Mortification at the realization that Jayce had not come there to save him, but to execute him. Viktor’s bottom lip quivered, his breath catching in his chest as he swallowed harshly, choking back a pained sob as he attempted to compose himself and failed, the Hexcore’s hold on him truly broken as he stared the certainty of death in the eyes. As he stared at Jayce. At the man that he cared so deeply for that he would not fight back if this was what he so genuinely desired. He did not understand what he had done to Jayce to make him hate him so, but he would accept it if it might bring him peace.
Jayce had always been such a gentle creature. But now, he was anything but. He was tormented, filled with a ruthless, feral savagery that was as undying as it was undeniable. There was nothing that anyone could say to him that would convince him to stop. Not after he’d crossed the line.
Viktor’s arms went slack at his sides, his hands falling from the handle of the hammer. He could pull the charm off of his body that limited his powers. His mobility was better than Jayce’s. He was certain that he could outmaneuver him in such a sorry state. He could overpower him and will him to stop his assault against him. But he suddenly lacked the will to. The knowledge that Jayce was capable of wishing him harm, of committing violence against him… he didn’t… he couldn’t fathom it. He refused to.
Jayce watched some part of him that he’d never known existed die then and there, wilting like the petals of a delicate flower exposed to pure poison. As the life was stolen from it, snuffed out, and reduced to nothing. Everything that it was and could be now gone from it. Viktor’s eyes welled with unspent tears as his lungs failed to draw breath before a single tear spilled forth and ran down his face, his golden eyes filled with so much pain that Jayce felt his heart clench just looking at him.
He remembered the first time he’d noticed how beautiful they were. The night that Viktor had approached him when Jayce had been abandoned by everyone else. The night in his ruined apartment that Viktor had saved Jayce’s life. They’d ostensibly been strangers with nothing to unite them but their shared dream of how beautiful the future could be if they worked together. For the betterment of all. Viktor had risked everything to save him. He had believed in him and stood by him when no one else had. There was a loyalty in Viktor that was unbreakable and absolute. He had never abandoned their dream until it had been corrupted. Until he had been corrupted by the very thing he’d asked Jayce to destroy.
And in an instant, Jayce had just watched that hope inside of him die.
Jayce’s mouth fell open slightly as words failed him. As Viktor held his gaze, his eyes filled with such pain. Such a sense of betrayal and sorrow as he accepted that the person he loved most would be the thing to destroy him. That he’d disappointed him. Jayce couldn’t bear that look. He simply couldn’t. He closed his eyes. And then he released his hold on the handle, and it fired, blowing a hole through the top of the pillar that tore through the ceiling and through the outside wall of the Capitol building, taking half of the upper floor with it.
Viktor slumped to the floor, his hands clutching his chest as he hyperventilated, unharmed. His eyes were no less filled with tears, but a sense of realization dawned in them as he watched Jayce drop the hammer and look down at him, his face saying more than words ever could.
Vi and Rictus paused, the blast taking them entirely by surprise. Vi gaped at the sight of the blast radius, utterly disquieted by the realization that her companion had been carrying around a weapon capable of doing that to a building. And he’d planned to use that on someone as small as Viktor?
Rictus beheld the damage and nodded a single time to himself, his decision easy. Suddenly, Vi was no longer his top priority.
Jayce closed his eyes and exhaled laboriously, taking in the sight of Viktor before him. He was disheveled, disoriented, and disheartened, his hair strewn about by the static energy released by the blast. His breathing had calmed a bit, but not enough to make much of a difference. He didn’t get to register much else. Almost as though he were being punished for his failure, the pain in his head returned, but this time, he choked as he swallowed, his lungs quivering as his skull slammed like someone had just stoved it in. His ears rang, sending a pain through his head so powerful that he thought his eardrums might explode. It was relentless and utterly disorienting, and no matter how hard he squeezed his head to try and grant himself some semblance of relief, it simply didn’t stop.
And Rictus took note of that fact immediately.
Without warning, he grasped the spear and reared back, launching it towards Jayce with an amount of force that put the Hexgates's gravitational launch calibrations to shame. Viktor didn’t think; he simply scrambled to his feet and, with one fluid motion, grasped Jayce by the shoulders and threw both of them to the ground, the spear missing its intended target, but still hitting something regardless.
But neither Jayce nor Viktor took notice immediately. The moment that Viktor’s fingertips brushed against the skin of Jayce’s neck, he was assaulted by flashes of things he did not understand. Jayce’s mind was a mangled mess of fragmented memories, blurring into something utterly incomprehensible. But what he did register was the feeling of pain. Of a deep, tortured longing for relief and the desperation that only loneliness brought with it. And it crescendoed and and crescendoed until Viktor could no longer bear it, snatching his hand away from his body as though he’d been burned as he caught the faintest glimpse of Jayce laying somewhere dark, sobbing with his whole chest near a fading fire, Viktor’s name upon his lips as he mourned the reality that he might never see him again. Never feel the warmth of his embrace or see the adoration in his smile. The sparkle in his eyes. Never get to tell him how much he-
Viktor gasped, sitting up slightly and leaning over Jayce as reality hit him again. Panting and suddenly sweating as he blinked and took in his surroundings. Jayce was lying on his back, looking up at him, a look of abject horror in his eyes. Viktor’s gaze traveled downward as he registered discomfort in his lower back and abdomen. It radiated across the lower middle section of his back, about halfway towards his spine, and the feeling was… unpleasant, sure, but he got the distinct impression that it should hurt far worse than it did. Yet it simply didn’t.
His eyes drifted towards the left side of the room, following Jayce’s gaze as it left him and traveled towards the spear that now found itself embedded into the wall by the door. To the mixture of purple and red liquid that dripped from its blade. And then the realization finally hit him, along with the requisite pain. He’d been hit.
Jayce regarded him with an almost instinctual level of concern, his eyes darting over him in evaluating waves as Viktor rested on his laurels and allowed Jayce to move away from him. The wound was far more noticeable now, his breath coming in pained hitches as he looked down and noticed the darker section of his garment. It was a good thing that the inside was red and the outside was dark blue, wasn’t it…
For his part, Jayce assessed the extent of the damage, taking note of the slash mark that encompassed about five inches of Viktor’s back and side. He couldn’t tell how deep it was, but it didn’t appear to be life-threatening, and he was certain from the amount of blood that he’d seemingly lost that he probably wasn’t going to bleed to death any time soon.
Jayce sighed in relief, shuddering slightly as he turned his attention back to Vi just in time to watch her clock Rictus across the underside of the Jaw, delivering a devastating blow that sent him careening back onto the floor, stunned but not quite fully unconscious. She then turned back to Jayce and gave him a sideways look, shaking her head in annoyance as she muttered something to herself under her breath, approaching him with a scowl. She was clearly less than pleased with his antics, an assessment that was confirmed when she stopped in front of him, allowing her gloves to slump from her tired grip. She then turned around and punched him in the gut, not pulling her punches nearly as much as he would’ve liked.
Jayce gagged as he slumped over, getting the distinct impression that taking off the gloves had done little to dampen how painful that blow was.
“You are going to explain a couple of things to me once we get out of here!” Vi snarled as she watched Viktor shakily pull himself to his feet, giving her a tired look. He wasn’t going to tell her that she shouldn’t have done that. Honestly, he wanted to smack Jayce himself. Perhaps not that hard, but…
Vi took notice of Viktor’s condition before sparing a glance in Rictus’s direction, putting her gauntlets back on. They needed to get out of there. Fast. If Singed hadn’t managed to alert the guards, then Jayce blowing a gigantic crater into the side of the Capitol building surely had. But Viktor wasn’t exactly in a position to run, was he?
“And you…” It took Vi all of about two seconds to assess her odds of success before deciding that she was willing to just go for it. She’d had worse ideas work out before. She was there with Jayce, after all. “Ah, what the hell. We don’t have time for this. Hold your arms up?”
Viktor obliged with a cautious look, wincing as he recalled how many muscles in his back connected to the wounded segment of his lower abdomen. But before he could ask what she was planning to do, she hunched over, grasped him under the arm, and then hoisted him onto her back over her shoulders the long way. She then tilted her head in the direction of the partially destroyed exit to the room, her eagerness to be done with this particular situation apparent.
“Are you coming or not?” Vi asked curtly, the recipient of her ire evident.
Jayce groaned as he pulled himself to his feet, his abdomen aching as he pressed his hand to it. That was certainly going to leave a bruise. Why did Vi even need the Atlas Gauntlets if her bare hands were already weapons of mass destruction?
“Yeah…” was all he managed to say as he grasped the handle of the distorted Mercury Hammer, looking down at it as the weight of his choice settled over him. He’d come there with a goal. With an obligation. And when he’d been mere milliseconds from accomplishing his goal, no matter how grim it was, he had faltered. He had failed to fulfill his pledge. He had doomed them. Jayce exhaled deeply, closing his eyes as he swallowed, his conscience gnawing at him like a pest with rabies. What had he just done?
Vi made her way towards the door, jogging more than sprinting. For someone so lithe, Viktor was surprisingly heavy, but at least he wasn’t squirming from the discomfort he no doubt felt. Where did all that weight even come from?! “Then grab your silly giant hammer, and let’s go.”
Jayce hoisted the weapon into his grip without another word, reattaching it to his aching back. With any luck, they would get out of there before he needed to hit someone else with it.
—
If one single positive thing could be gleaned from her time as an enforcer, it was the fact that Vi now knew the ventilation shafts that ran through the Undercity like the back of her hand.
Above ground, the entirety of Piltover seemed to be on high alert. A horn blared through the dark city streets, one she hadn’t heard since that fateful night on the bridge when her sister had bombed the enforcers lying in wait, waiting to ambush them and take the gemstone back to Silco. For a passing moment, she wondered if Ekko was doing all right. She hadn’t seen him since that night. Maybe it was time to check in on him again, this time without being kidnapped, preferably.
The three of them had been silent since they’d left the Capital. They’d escaped through the same maintenance stairwell they’d entered from, heading down into the lower levels and breaking a window. From there, they’d retreated into the city's vast botanical gardens where they’d located a damaged air shaft that hadn’t been properly fixed since her sister’s colorful little attack on the city. And from there, it had been a straight shot across the harbor and back to her old stomping grounds. They were in the home stretch. They just needed to avoid detection on the way back and lay low. And Vi certainly had a place in mind.
For a while, Vi and Jayce didn’t so much as exchange a passing glance, Jayce not keen to earn himself another bruised rib. But as they crossed the barrier into the bowels of Zaun, she’d shot him a questioning look, her mind formulating a thousand different questions to ask him. But first, there was something that she needed to take care of. Then they would talk.
“Think you can walk the rest of the way?” In truth, she wasn’t sure if Viktor was still awake. He’d been unnervingly silent during their escape, little more than the faint sound of his breathing alerting her to the fact that he was even still alive. But then again, she imagined that he had a lot on his mind. How did one unpack everything that had happened to him in the past handful of days? It was a wonder he could think at all. If he still could.
“I sure hope so. I doubt you could carry both of us.” Jayce said tiredly. He was dead on his feet, dragging himself along with little more than his resolve, and the ever-growing weight of his decision. If the hammer had borne down on him like the weight of Sisyphus’s boulder, then Jayce’s decision was the far side of the mountain that he’d watched the boulder roll down after he’d reached the summit, knowing full well that all of his work had been for naught.
Vi shook her head, leaning back to indicate towards Viktor. “I was talking to Viktor, Jayce.”
Oh.
“... Yes.” Viktor retorted softly, his tone distant. It seemed that he was still awake, after all. He’d chosen to remain silent. Bitterly, naggingly silent.
“Good, because you are a lot heavier than you look.” She responded with a scoff. It was frankly ridiculous how much strain he was putting on her back, but she wasn’t one to complain. Maybe she should trade with Jayce?
Vi came to a stop immediately, shifting her posture into a crouch so that Viktor could slide off of her back with consummate ease. He slipped off her shoulders and steadied himself, straightening his back as she stood up and did the same. Vi extended her arms above her head until an audible crack was heard, exhaling in satisfaction as some of the tension vacated her weary body. She needed to sleep in a real bed tonight, or someone wasn’t going to make it. And between her sister and Jayce, she wasn’t sure just yet who that someone might be.
It was the first time that he’d heard Viktor speak in person. Thus far, Viktor had spoken to him through using Salo as a facsimile, and outside of that, he hadn’t uttered a single word. And then it hit him. Neither had he. Jayce felt a lump form in his throat as he realized that he’d nearly ended Viktor’s life without so much as speaking to him…
His eyes drifted over towards Viktor, regarding him silently as they hurried along. After a lifetime of walking with a cane and then a crutch, he imagined it must feel strange to be able to go without them now. Even if his balance seemed somewhat tenuous at times and he would probably benefit from something to help him keep his balance, Viktor was able to hold himself up, though he did seem to prefer to keep to the side of the tunnel wall. Though, that decision might be born more of his desire to stay away from Jayce than anything else since Vi was acting as something of an impassable barrier, striding down the center of the tunnel with the two of them flanking her on either side. Just in case Jayce got any bright ideas?
Jayce wished he could see Viktor’s face. He wanted to garner some sort of understanding of what he might be thinking. He needed it. To know who his beloved friend had become in their time apart. It seemed that their separation had changed them both, but Jayce was still in the dark. Still lingering in the shadows of his misdeeds from earlier that evening.
After a quarter mile or so, the tunnels opened up into the streets of Zaun. Into the lanes where the light never quite reached, even during the daylight hours. And it was dark, what few establishments that remained open not being the sort that they were looking for. They’d be in the Rapture Walk if that were the end goal. Instead, they made their way down the central boulevard, past the vendors who sold questionable goods who were locking up their goods for the night. Past Jericho’s stall, Vi shooting him a friendly wave as he tried to beckon her over for a quick bite to eat that she refused, stating that she would be back in the morning. They passed the brothel where Babette was closing up for the night. She offered them a quiet place to rest their heads as thanks for Vi’s sister's efforts in helping her escape from Stillwater after her arrest at the protest. It was an offer that she refused, but one she thanked her for nonetheless.
Jayce watched the casual ease with which Vi interacted with her fellow Zaunites. Even the gruffest of them paid her the respect of a glance or a nod, if nothing else. There was a far greater sense of community in the Undercity than Jayce had ever noticed before, but perhaps that was because he was from Piltover. His visits had been brief and filled with an abundance of caution. He’d never stayed to greet the locals and get to know them. Never made the time to come down here with Viktor despite the reality that he was from Zaun, and often came for provisions they couldn’t get topside. Had that been shortsightedness on Jayce’s part? It seemed so.
But at the same time, he noticed that Viktor remained silent. He didn’t go out of his way to greet his fellow Zaunites or do any more than nod curtly if a set of eyes strayed towards him, but he wasn’t unfriendly, either. Jayce doubted that Viktor was concerned that someone would recognize him and tell the Noxians. If there was one thing that Jayce understood about the Undercity, it was that the locals didn’t talk to enforcers, and if the state of the blockades were anything to go by, then they sure as hell weren’t in friendly relations with the Noxians, either. Not even as a stand-alone entity.
No one would turn on them. They were safe. Jayce could afford to let his guard down a little.
Jayce wondered if anyone down here remembered who Viktor was before his return. It had been years since he’d lived in the Undercity. Everyone seemed to know him as the Herald now. Was there anyone left who remembered him as just Viktor? Surely he’d known someone done here at one time or another. Surely…
… Had his physical impairments ostracized him so severely from his community that he felt like a stranger here?
Jayce remembered Viktor telling him next to nothing about his life there, aside from the fact that he’d been eager to leave and strike out on his own. To help better the lives of those in need. He’d never said as much, but Jayce always got the impression that Viktor was talking about himself, too, when he said things like that. He hadn’t needed to say it. It was a given. But it had motivated Jayce to try and get the ball rolling just that little bit faster, watching the sobering reality of what life in the Undercity could do to someone. Everything that it could take from them.
His mind returned from its rendezvous in the past, to the realities of the present. They’d come to a stop in front of a large building, which appeared to be a bar of some sort. The neon lights that would be on if the building were in operation had been switched off for the time being, but Jayce could still make out the letters if he squinted. Exhaustion was doing a number on his vision.
Vi did something that Jayce couldn’t place with the lock to the front door, and the door eased open, earning them passage inside. Vi gestured toward the two of them with a tilt of her head, inviting them across the threshold. It made more sense than standing on the curb and continuing to draw attention.
“The Last Drop?” Jayce inquired as they ventured inside, Vi closing the door and locking it behind them again as they made their way inside. No one in their right mind slept soundly in the Undercity with the doors unlocked. It wasn’t good for your life expectancy.
Vi took in the sights. It was just as she’d left it the last time she’d been here. The same wrecked pool table she’d tried to kill Sevika with, and the beaten-up bar furniture they’d tossed around like insults. The same indent that her back had made in the bar front when she’d made impact with it. The same Jukebox, although someone had made an effort to repair it… At least someone had cleaned up the bloodstains. That was something.
She turned to face her two guests, noting that Viktor was particularly unfazed by his current environment, and Jayce seemed to be silently assessing the structural integrity of the place. Yep. It was clear which one of them came from topside and which one didn’t. Jayce had some semblance of standards, not that his time away from his cozy home in Piltover hadn’t lowered them significantly. But still. The concept was at least there.
“Yep. Or as my sister and I used to call it: home sweet home,” Vi said, walking around the bar front in search of something edible. To no great surprise, all she found were glasses and mostly empty bottles in various states of disrepair. Excellent. She grabbed a bottle of something and a handful of glasses, spreading them out across the counter before filling one for herself and giving the orange liquid inside a slurp. Club soda. Fantastic. Alcohol tasted like death to her after she’d drunk so much of it during her fall from grace, anyway. She filled the other two glasses.
Jayce approached the bar, leaning his elbows against it as he allowed his face to rest against his right hand. He slumped tiredly, taking the hammer off of his back. He wasn’t even going to ask what she was offering him. No matter how bad it was, he was confident that he’d had worse over the past few months. It was a sentiment they both shared, by the look of it.
He picked up the glass and sloshed the liquid inside of it back and forth, caring little for the scent, even if it looked like he was attempting to savor it. He took a sip and was immediately confronted with an overwhelming amount of sweetness. Flat, orange-flavored club soda. Disgusting. He drank it anyway. He wasn’t picky anymore. It was better than eating Waveriders.
And then it occurred to him. “Wait… you grew up in a bar?”
“What, people don’t live in the basement of bars where you come from, lover boy?” Vi said, barely containing the glee that his perplexed expression brought her. He looked visibly confused at the prospect of children being allowed inside of an establishment that served alcohol. That sort of thing would get them shut down in Piltover. His brow furrowed in consideration as he took a second sip of the liquid, suddenly remembering that it tasted awful. He wouldn’t be surprised if it was expired. He took a third, smaller sip.
The sound of a stool scooting across the damaged bar floors interrupted their conversation as they both spared a glance towards the other end of the bar. Viktor had joined them, even if it was exceedingly obvious that he wasn’t interested in joining the conversation. He’d procured the half-broken stool from the far side of the room, dragging it all the way over to the place where it rightfully belonged. It was missing a leg, but it was still serviceable. Viktor wasn’t even wearing shoes, after all. He couldn’t care less.
Ah yes. Vi remembered how it had gotten over there…
Vi slid the last glass down the well-worn bar top, and Viktor intercepted it, grasping the top of it with his fingertips as he swirled his fingers along the pattern on the rim of the glass. He remained silent, but he still nodded a single time in gratitude, his eyes a thousand miles away. Vi got the distinct impression that he was politely biding his time. The two of them needed to talk. Badly. And the wound on his back could probably use attending to. Too bad there probably weren’t any first aid supplies lying around.
“No… not that I’m aware of. No.” Jayce said almost absentmindedly as he looked down the bar at Viktor. He was finally able to see him under direct light, and he wasn’t sure he knew the words to properly describe how the gold highlights embedded into his skin gleamed under the fluorescent light. He couldn’t see his face from this angle since Viktor insisted on starting in any direction but directly at him, lost in a train of thought Jayce could only vaguely fathom. What was going through that mind of his…
It was suddenly too quiet for Vi’s tastes. Too soon to linger on the gravity of everything they’d just done that evening. Time to pivot the topic slightly.
“Where did you grow up, Viktor? The sump?” Vi said casually before taking another sip of her disappointing drink. She hardly noticed that it was supposed to have a flavor anymore. She was just thirsty, and it was something to drink. Something else to do with her hands now that the gauntlets had served their purpose for the night. She tapped the fingers on her idle hand against the bar top, thinking about nothing in particular.
He didn’t answer immediately, seemingly considering the ramifications of what that might reveal. Viktor could only recall being asked that a handful of times in his life, and it was always a difficult topic to broach. But after an extended period of consideration, Viktor tentatively took a sip of the drink before setting it down almost instantly, finally turning his head towards them slightly. That was… certainly a flavor. He could say that much for certain. But a good one? Eh… not by a long shot. No.
“In and around an alchemist’s Simmer laboratory,” Viktor confessed as if it were no big deal. His feigned nonchalance didn’t go unnoticed by Vi, her eyes widening slightly as she processed the reality of that statement. For a moment there, she’d considered the possibility that he might be bluffing, but there was something about the way he said it, the solemn tone in his voice, perhaps, that made it abundantly clear that he wasn’t. And there was only one person in the Undercity who fit the bill, given Vi and Viktor’s age gap. So that had been why Singed had looked concerned for him earlier…
And just when Vi thought her family was complicated. Singed? She sighed, shaking her head. No one in Zaun was safe. How had she forgotten?
“No kidding.” She downed the last of her drink in one large gulp, slamming the glass back down on the bar top with exaggerated flair in the hopes of prying something resembling a snicker, or at least a smirk, from one of her ill-fated companions. But, alas, her comedic talents were wasted on them. She had done all she could. Now it was time to bow out. They needed time.
Vi stood and stretched again, groaning as she gestured broadly towards the bar. There was no wrong place to sleep. Judging by Jayce’s condition, he wouldn’t complain. He was probably just happy to be indoors and not sleeping wherever he’d been sleeping up until now. And Viktor had evidently grown up in a shimmer lab, so… “Honestly, that explains a lot. Anyway, I’m going to go sleep in my childhood bed for the first time since I got outta Stillwater. You two have… fun. I guess. Just don’t go upstairs.”
Vi turned away from the duo, looking down the hallway that led to what had once been her childhood bedroom. She wondered what had become of it in her absence. What her sister had done with the room after she’d seemingly abandoned her and disappeared. It was about time she found out. She’d found her way home, after all. Maybe she could find her way back to the place where what remained of her innocence might still be lingering about.
But as she started to head in the direction of the hallway, something occurred to her.
“Oh, and um… If Sevika comes back, I’m not here, and you're with Jinx. I’m not in the mood for that rematch tonight. I’ve got knuckles to ice.”
Jayce stared at his glass blankly, not even bothering to look up. It was always something, wasn’t it? “Who’s Sevika?”
“Trust me, you’ll know,” Vi said with a scoff. The mental image of Sevika and Jayce getting into a disagreement was as comical as it was perilous. They would destroy the entire place and each other. It would certainly be entertaining to witness. But why look a gift horse in the mouth, right?
“Um… Vi?” Jayce sighed deeply as he looked up from the glass. His shoulders were slouched, betraying the overwhelming exhaustion that was gradually overtaking him now that the adrenaline he’d been coasting on all day slowly started to drain away. His eyes were tormented, but his voice didn’t waver. “Thank you. I didn’t want you to tag along, but you did, and I… Thank you. For everything.”
Vi gave him a considerate look as she glanced over her shoulder at him. Considering how everything had gone, she wasn’t sure if thanks or apologies were in order. But regardless, she would do it again in a heartbeat. Danger aside, it felt good to do something right for once. To be able to be part of the solution to something and not the problem. Maybe.
“Yeah, that’s great and all, but we can have that conversation tomorrow,” Vi said with a huff, walking away. It was time to see if the old place still had running water. She needed a hot shower. As hot as the boiler would allow the water to get. “See you guys later. Don’t kill each other until then, okay?”
Without another word, Vi disappeared down the hallway. And for the first time in what felt like a lifetime, Jayce and Viktor were alone together again.
There were no council obligations. No trade disputes or petty meetings to attend. No invitations to begrudgingly accept to galas or fancy operas that the council barely cared about. No warmongers or sycophants, politics, or outside distractions. No one to interrupt them as they peeled back the bandages and opened all the wounds that had never quite properly healed. The wounds that life had inflicted on them. That they had inflicted upon one another, intentional or not.
All that was left was time. And what they chose to do with it.
Silence settled over the room like a weighted blanket. Submerging them in a heavy atmosphere of palpable discomfort so heavy that it felt like trying to breathe while submerged on the ocean floor. Where did they even start? The last time Jayce had seen Viktor, he’d been looking at the back of his head as he walked out of the lab, leaving him and their life’s work behind. And the next time Viktor had seen Jayce, their exchange had ended with a weapon to Viktor’s chest and a murderous gleam in Jayce’s eyes. How did they clear the air? Could they even come back from something like this?
Jayce finished the rest of the vile-tasting beverage and pushed the glass away from himself in frustration, nearly causing it to clatter to the floor. He cupped his face with both hands, breathing deeply as he attempted to compose himself. He would get nowhere with him if he snapped that easily. But how did you talk to someone you’d just attempted to kill in cold blood? To eviscerate without so much as a word after they’d known you for nearly a decade? Someone who had given you the best years of their life and had received only suffering in return. For a moment, Jayce wondered if Viktor regretted it all. Regretted knowing him. Saving him that day when he’d stepped towards the edge. It would’ve saved him so much trouble…
And all at once, he felt Viktor’s eyes fall upon him, burrowing into the side of his skull like a chisel being hammered into unyielding stone. That was probably what Jayce’s head was made of, now that he considered it. How appropriate that something that could be molded with a hammer might be the very thing he was made of. Jayce trembled, his bad leg jittering as he gritted his teeth and clenched his eyes shut. He couldn’t focus. Not with Viktor’s gaze on him, pressing down on him like an anchor dragging across the ocean floor, threatening to tear him asunder.
Jayce knew that he needed to face him. It only made sense to meet Viktor’s gaze head-on rather than flee from it in futility. He’d wanted so badly to see his face just a few minutes ago, but now it was different. Now, the constantly fluctuating ebb and flow of his subconscious gnawed at him, feasting on his guilt in much the same way that he’d hungrily slurped up the rancid flesh of those poor creatures in that cave. Devouring him whole and leaving nothing behind but a withering husk. He hadn’t met Viktor’s gaze since their encounter back at the Capitol. Since the moment he’d watched the will to live vanish from them. Since he’d attempted to take his life without so much as a parting goodbye. The cruelty of it all…
But as callous as that had been in hindsight, it hadn’t been from a place of malice. Jayce knew his own heart better than anyone, and he knew what it could and could not endure. He’d know that this experience would break him, one way or another. That looking into Viktor’s eyes as he snuffed the life out of him would be a gargantuan task. And now he realized it was one he simply didn’t have the capacity to complete.
His love for Viktor had doomed them all.
He… he was sorry. He had tried so earnestly to keep his promise. But running away from his problems would get them nowhere. Destroying the person he loved most couldn’t be the only solution, could it? In reality, he refused to believe that he was the only iteration of himself who had thought that very thing, but according to the very individual who had set him down this path, he was also the only person capable of rectifying this.
With a heavy sigh, Jayce opened his eyes and turned to face Viktor. He would face his fate with what little remained of his dignity.
Jayce’s gaze fell upon Viktor, and he seized up instantly.
As he’d suspected, Viktor was staring at him, his gaze practically unblinking under the bar’s fluorescent lighting. But to his surprise, he wasn’t focused on his face. Instead, his gaze had fallen lower, his hue-shifting irises focusing intently on Jayce’s leg. He seemed almost fixated, as though he were assessing something, his breath scant and his face otherwise unreadable. Vacant. It was almost chilling to behold.
Huffing, Jayce pushed himself away from the bar and watched as Viktor’s eyes followed their mark, never deviating. His expression didn’t change, nor did its intensity. He was simply transfixed, his thoughts somewhere so distant that Jayce could only vaguely guess as to their whereabouts. Maybe it was time that he stopped guessing and asked him?
They needed to sit somewhere and talk, and it wasn’t going to be here.
Jayce grumbled to himself under his breath as he assessed the condition of the room they occupied. Everything truly was in a state of disrepair. What had transpired in this establishment? It was as if a whirlwind had whipped through the place, decimating everything in its path with reckless abandon. Dried blood and scorch marks scored several surfaces, and broken glass and wood splinters seemingly covered everything else. Where exactly did Vi even intend for them to sleep? At least they were indoors, and he didn��t have to rough it in a ditch somewhere this time, but…
And then Jayce saw it. A private booth in the far corner of the room tucked off behind the staircase that led to the second story. He’d almost mistaken it for a simple wall decorated with a curtain, such was the thickness of the fabric that encapsulated it. But as he took a closer look, it became readily apparent that it was indeed a booth, sequestered as far away from prying eyes as possible. Good. He could work with that.
With a lethargic groan, Jayce’s eyes darted over to the distorted Mercury Hammer as it leaned against the bar top. Inert and harmless, no indication present of the pure destructive potential that it contained. Even Jayce himself was astonished by just how much power this version of his creation was capable of outputting. It was impressive, yes, but… wholly unnecessary? It had obliterated two floors of a very well-constructed building with consummate ease. What could it have possibly been intended to be used to eradicate? Surely not just Viktor. To use such a weapon against him would be overkill in its purest form. There would be nothing left of him…
Jayce turned away from the hammer, a vague sense of disgust billowing off of him as he limped over towards the booth in question, hoping that Viktor would simply take the hint and follow him. He passed him as he went, feeling his gaze pull away from him for the first time since it had settled there as he passed him by. He still didn’t have the slightest inkling as to what he was supposed to say to Viktor. “Sorry” was wholly insufficient, to a frankly sarcastic degree. You didn’t simply hand-wave attempted murder, especially when it had been undertaken with such a degree of brutality. And that was assuming that Viktor was even willing to speak to him.
But then, there was the other matter, wasn’t there? What Viktor had been doing at the commune… it had to stop. His actions there were wholly unacceptable, and Jayce couldn’t comprehend what had changed inside of Viktor to make him assume that they were. To believe that anything good could come from his actions and conduct, or the false narrative Viktor had concocted for himself and his followers in that place. They were corrupted by the Arcane now. More than likely beyond saving in any way that truly mattered. There were solutions that needed to be found to very real issues, and they had to be dealt with swiftly and, regrettably, perhaps mercilessly.
Just remembering the commune made his blood boil. Those people deserved better. What had Viktor been thinking when he’d done all that?
Flopping down on the cushioned surface of the booth bench, Jayce was pleasantly surprised to find that it was soft. It looked rigid and unyielding, but in truth, years of wear and tear had rendered the now well-worn leather soft and supple, the padding holding up nicely. It seemed like the sort of spot where you could sit and relax for hours if the atmosphere was agreeable. He wondered for a moment if Viktor had ever been there before.
He heard the stool scoot slightly and the sound of a soft thud. Jayce’s eyes darted towards Viktor, noticing that he wasn’t heading towards him. Instead, Viktor took a handful of steps and closed the distance between himself and the warped Mercury Hammer, beholding it in quiet astonishment as he came to a stop in front of it. In front of his would be murder weapon. Viktor’s eyes studied the device intently, taking in the details. The contours of the handle and the uneven weight distribution of the hammer’s striking head. It was truly a thing touched by the awe-inspiring power of the Arcane, as alien and organically inorganic as it was utterly incomprehensible. He raised his hand to touch it, seemingly almost hesitant. Feeling the power that radiated off of it. But as soon as he reached for the weapon, something in the room almost seemed to fluctuate as Viktor recoiled in discomfort, his eyes as intrigued as they were disturbed. The very air around them felt wrong all of a sudden. Whatever had reduced the weapon to such an unusual state was ancient. Powerful. Like what he’d seen the day Jayce had returned from… wherever he’d disappeared to. Perhaps this was but a fragment of something greater.
Jayce considered insisting that Viktor leave the hammer alone, but then decided against it. There was little to be gained from insinuating that he didn’t trust him around it, even if that might truthfully be the case. He wasn’t under the impression that his longtime friend would harm him with it, but something about the way that the ruined Mercury Hammer reacted to Viktor made Jayce uneasy. Could Viktor even lift the thing?
As if sensing his trepidation, Viktor abandoned his pursuit and abruptly changed course, heading over to join him. Jayce held his breath as he watched him approach, the pair still not making direct eye contact or so much as looking at one another, but the closeness alone filling the atmosphere with a palpable sense of tension. There was no running from whatever would come to pass now. Not that he’d ever planned to.
Viktor took a seat across from him, resting his elbows on the table as he allowed his chin and the lower segments of his cheeks to rest against the backs of his fingers, cupping his face in a way that allowed his hair to hang over his wrists. He looked down at the table in front of them, seemingly assessing every crack, gouge, and nick in its surface. There was nothing but the faint sound of their shared breath as time seemed to slow to a crawl around them, the two of them close enough to touch, but neither of them daring to be the first one to attempt to do so.
After several minutes, Viktor raised his eyes to meet his.
Jayce stopped breathing. His brain ceased to function, and his heart nearly failing to properly pump the blood that circulated his veins as it skipped a beat and fell under Viktor’s gaze. Jayce considered himself a resilient person, unafraid of a challenge. But in that moment, he had never felt smaller, more scrutinized. Even the trial that had nearly decided the fate of Hextech didn’t come close to this. The eyes of every member of the council combined had no power over him in comparison to the hold Viktor had on him now.
There was no judgment. No fondness. Only a set of eyes that used to be oh so familiar to Jayce begging him for an answer to a question Viktor didn’t need to ask. Why? Why had any of what had come to pass that day occurred? How had someone who had meant so very much to him concluded that denying him the right to continue drawing breath was an acceptable course of action when speaking to him was still on the table?
Every aspect of his calm, composed demeanor spoke of unspoken pain. Of a person so perplexed and dumbfounded that they could only hope that the source of their anguish could provide them with a satisfactory answer. And Jayce wasn’t sure the truth would give him that. But it was all that he could offer him. Jayce held his gaze, his eyes harsh as he mulled over something in his mind. He didn’t know how to have this conversation because it wasn’t supposed to be happening. Viktor was supposed to be dead, and the safety of the future of Runeterra secured. He wasn’t supposed to be here. But Jayce had failed Viktor again, hadn’t he?
Hadn’t he…?
In all timelines, in all possibilities. Only you can show me this.
The words of the mage who had saved his life as a child echoed in his head as his pupils dilated, those same traces of feral unpredictability rearing their unsightly head again. He was on the precipice of utter madness, teetering dangerously close to the edge. This had been the reason he had been saved from that blizzard? To kill the person who meant the most to him? Why couldn’t it be anyone else? Because Viktor wanted it to be him. It had to be him. He was the only one he wanted to be there when it all ended. But he simply couldn’t do it. They both deserved better. If Jayce had to defy fate and carve a new path through blood, bone, and bedrock with his bare hands, so be it. If the world had to burn for them to both survive, then he would find a way to put the fire out. He would crawl battered and scarred beyond recognition through the void itself if that was what it took. There was no hell too deep in comparison to what he’d already endured. And he would do it all again if it were required of him. But he would not kill Viktor. There simply had to be a better choice. There had to be.
Jayce stood abruptly, using both of his hands to brace himself as he partially leaned over the table, gazing deeply into Viktor’s eyes. Viktor didn’t flinch as Jayce trespassed in his personal space, but the spectre of something unfamiliar flickered in his hue-shifting eyes. He blinked, batting his eyelashes as his eyes almost seemed to soften a bit, losing their edge. And Jayce did the same, his train of thought momentarily interrupted by the revelation that Viktor looked incredibly attractive with longer hair. Admittedly, he’d always found him appealing, but the way it framed his face… The way it accentuated his cheekbones and the smattering of hexcorized swirls that decorated them. The pale blond highlights on the tips of his hair that so beautifully contrasted with his rainbow-hued eyes. The way the Hexcore had inlaid gold into Viktor’s sternomastoids and the slight flex of the muscles in his throat as he swallowed in apparent discomfort at the intensity of Jayce’s wandering gaze…
He was radiant. Utterly arresting. To stand in his presence was akin to basking in the glory of a storied deity. His magnificence was otherworldly and uniquely appealing in a way that Jayce didn’t dare fathom the implications of in relation to his own newfound personal tastes. And yet, Jayce still couldn’t help but fondly remember the way he’d once been. The warmth of his honeyed brown eyes. His gentle, beautiful smile. His messy brown hair that had only grown more unkempt over the many years they’d spent together. Before he’d done all that to him in his quest to defy death itself and keep them together just that little bit longer. It had been selfish to defy his wishes. He would rage against that reality no longer. He’d spent plenty of time dwelling on it during the months he’d spent in purgatory. But he’d do it again if it meant that he didn’t have to say goodbye. He just had.
He’d learned nothing, and he was strangely fine with that.
Jayce let out a sound somewhere between a growl and a huff, his eyes parting from Viktor’s as he searched the room feverishly. There had to be a rag or something akin to it around there somewhere. They were in a bar, after all. He knew that asking for medical supplies of any kind was too much to ask for, but he was resourceful. He’d made do with much less previously, but he held the care he gave to others higher than the standards of what he was personally willing to accept.
His gaze fell upon a sheet that was draped over something in the corner near the ruined jukebox. Limping over to it, he was pleased to discover that it was dusty but otherwise unsoiled. He could work with that. Shaking off his nerves and ripping a portion of it loose from the rest of the fabric, he limped back over to the booth and stood in front of the table, nearly close enough for the hands that braced him against it to touch Viktor’s. The smaller of the two didn’t turn to face him, but he also didn’t make an effort to avoid him, either. Progress was progress…
“... You need to turn around and scoot over,” Jayce said curtly with a grunt. Viktor seemed almost disturbed to hear the sound of his voice, taking note of the potent air of exhaustion it was laced with. But even still, the corner of his mouth upturned in apparent displeasure as his brow creased and he appeared to broil. It seemed he wasn’t in the mood to humor Jayce’s tone or his apparent lack of manners. Jayce exhaled, closing his eyes. When he opened them again, they were softer, but still just as serious. “Please?”
Viktor didn’t respond, but he did oblige after a moment, sliding over with a slight wince as Jayce sat down next to him on the bench. It was the closest they’d been to one another since they’d reunited, a realization that was not lost on Jayce as he reached out to press his hand against the wound on Viktor’s back and hesitated momentarily before gently grasping the fabric around it and pulling it aside. By some miracle, the fabric hadn’t torn. And that was when he realized something. It was the blanket. The very same blanket that he’d gifted to him when he’d emerged from his cocoon, for fear that he might be cold, and to help break the tension of what had otherwise been a remarkably awkward reunion. He hadn’t thought about how he’d practically thrown himself at Viktor at the time, such was his eagerness to cradle him in his embrace. To keep him safe and gently cherish the privilege of still having him in his life. The blanket had completely slipped his mind amidst the pain of Viktor’s sudden departure and subsequent disappearance, but to know that he still had it? That he’d kept it with him after everything that had happened between them? That he’d worn it as though it were the most precious thing that he still had left, a piece of Jayce still bringing Viktor comfort and protection, shielding him from the world? Making him feel safe, as though Jayce were still gently holding him in his embrace in their lab? It was almost too much for him to bear.
It broke something in him.
Even after he’d physically left him behind, abandoned everything they’d built together, he’d still carried a piece of Jayce with him. Still cherished him. Clung to the last vestiges of the kindness he’d shown him. His love. Even when Viktor had forgotten himself, he’d remembered Jayce.
Jayce took a moment to compose himself, breathing deeply as he attempted to not tremble like a leaf in a raging storm. Jayce rested his hand against the back of Viktor’s shoulder, squeezing the torn piece of fabric against his lower back to stanch the bleeding. Unable to help himself as he absent-mindedly kneaded the muscles in Viktor’s shoulder as he’d done so many times before to soothe his pain. To his surprise, Viktor didn’t so much as wince, and the wound barely bled, indicating that the Hexcore had done its job and set to work mending the damage the spear had done to him. Good. At least it could do something right.
But then Jayce observed something. The way Viktor began to relax, leaning into his touch ever so slightly as though he were attempting to seek it out. To feel more of it. Longing for his comfort, but unwilling to ask for it. They both wanted the same thing, but they were at an impasse.
It was strange. Despite the largely inorganic nature of Viktor’s reconstructed body, it almost felt the same. At least with a layer of fabric between them. He was still pliable, malleable under his grip. He could still feel the contours of his shoulder blade and collarbone as his fingers curled over his shoulder and dug into the side of his neck, inching higher. Seeking to provide a sense of comfort that Viktor simply couldn’t detect. Suddenly, Viktor tensed, and Jayce released him, taking his sudden reluctance as a hint. He watched as Viktor turned to him, turning his upper body as far to the left as it would go to look at him over his shoulder. His eyes were calm, with no indication of the dissatisfaction that had lingered in them a few minutes prior. Instead, there was a quiet sense of contemplation. And then his eyes fell lower, pausing on Jayce’s leg. And a completely different emotion made its way onto his face, faint as it might’ve been. Distress.
“... What happened?” Viktor didn’t need to elaborate. He knew that they were on the same page in regards to that particular elephant in the room. It was bound to come up eventually. Viktor bit the top of his bottom lip, a mixture of sympathy, dissatisfaction, and apprehension clouding his features as he looked down at the hastily fashioned leg brace. A thousand different thoughts competed for dominance as his eyes shifted back to their original shade of golden brown. It was as if Viktor physically felt the pain that Jayce was experiencing.
Jayce felt his chest tighten. This was not a conversation he was ready to have. Not yet. Not with Viktor. “I broke it.”
Viktor glanced up at him, his brow raising slightly as if to indicate that he wasn’t amused by the statement in the slightest. A sarcastic “yeah, no kidding” look ghosted across his face for a brief moment before genuine worry replaced it. Viktor wouldn’t attempt to play off his concern for Jayce’s well-being with sardonic cynicism. There was no humor in his face, only the quiet understanding that Jayce was avoiding the topic. Viktor shifted his weight and reached down to tenderly brush his fingertips over the dirty bandages that clung to Jayce’s injured limb, barely grazing them before Jayce lurched away from him, a glimmer of genuine terror in his eyes.
“Don't touch it.” He nearly spat the words as though Viktor’s touch was laced with poison, clenching his teeth as he glared at him. He looked ready to bite. Jayce knew full well what Viktor’s power was capable of, but nothing of how quickly it could be wielded. He would not be brought to heel.
Viktor recoiled his hand, holding it against his chest as his eyes gleamed with trepidation. He looked wounded by the tone Jayce had taken with him, genuinely confused as to why he had reacted the way that he had. He imagined that the injury was sensitive, but he’d been careful not to apply force. What had gotten into him? He looked like a cornered animal…
“I only wish to understand…”
He reached for him again, this time attempting to rest his hand on Jayce’s forearm. The same arm that Jayce had attempted to use to comfort him mere moments ago. Again, Jayce flinched away, though his eyes held far less accusation this time. And then Viktor recalled what he’d seen a glimpse of. Jayce trapped somewhere dark. He’d been freezing, the faint embers of a fire dying out around him as he shivered and quaked from a combination of chills and agony. He’d been afraid and utterly alone. Hopeless. Beset by hunger pangs that he knew all too well. Growing weaker by the hour. And Viktor had been utterly unaware. Unable to help him in what had to be his greatest moment of need. He felt a pang of regret penetrate his very soul as his chest clenched like a vice, his eyes pooling just enough to be seen. He tried a final time to reach out to him, allowing his hand to hover over his chest, but making it clear that he would not do anything he didn’t allow.
“You were in so much pain. And you were alone. Your bitter suffering was unwarranted. Let me help you. You are suffering.” His voice was soft, perhaps more so than Jayce had ever heard before. Filled with a sense of regret and sympathy so palpable that it stole his breath and caused him to tremble slightly. Viktor genuinely wanted to comfort him. To bring an end to his suffering. And he wanted nothing more than to oblige and fall headlong into his waiting embrace, but he knew all too well what that would truly mean for him. He shook his head and watched as Viktor stared at him in incredulity, genuinely hurt by the rejection. It made Jayce’s heart throb.
“You do not... want my help?” He was asking, but they both already knew the answer. Perhaps he was pleading more than confirming. Offering a final time before he was forced to accept the reality that Jayce would rather suffer immense pain than allow him to touch him. Did he truly hate him so?
“No. Just... Leave it.” Jayce said, defeated by the effort that it took for him to force those words past his lips. This was a weight that he had to bear. As soothing as the sweet embrace of Viktor’s touch might prove to be, it was still a trap. A trap that Viktor didn’t even seem to realize he was setting. Jayce’s face crinkled at the sudden, earth-shattering realization that perhaps Viktor truly was that blind to the effects of his own actions. It made more sense to him than the possibility that Viktor might be trying to take advantage of his vulnerability. Not after he’d saved his life earlier that evening, to no clear benefit of his own. It simply wasn’t who he was. Who he’d ever been in the time that he’d known him. Compassion was the core pillar that Viktor’s heart and soul were whittled from. But there was no way.
He simply couldn’t be that oblivious… Could he?
“Do you know what you're doing to these people, Viktor?” Despite everything, it felt good to say his name again. To have hope again, however fleeting and meager it might prove to be. Even the brightest of minds didn’t know everything, and although Viktor had a knack for beating him to the punch, he was willing to hope on hope that this time, just this once, he was ignorant of something. It was a long shot but…
Viktor looked at him as though he’d sprouted a second head, slightly offended by the accusatory tone he’d taken with him. How could he not? “I'm healing them. Helping them live better lives without pain. I would do the same for you if you’d allow it.”
Jayce’s pupils dilated like he’s just been plunged into utter darkness. His face was a transparent testament to the overabundance of disbelief that overtook him like a tidal wave. He began to hyperventilate, grasping at his unkempt, oily hair with his left hand in futility. Dear gods. He didn’t know.
He was about to gamble with his life, but there was something he needed to do. It was the only way.
“You... I need to show you something.” Words would not prove to be enough. Jayce understood this better than anyone. Viktor had always been a man of facts, of curiosity towards the unknown, and a willingness to be proven wrong, but he required proof to truly believe in something. Irrefutable, concrete evidence that it was true. Viktor needed to see it with his own eyes to have faith in it. And Jayce could show him. He knew that Viktor had looked into his mind. He’d felt it during the brief moment they’d touched back in the Capitol building. Felt the Arcane grasp at his subconscious.
This was something that only he could show him.
Viktor regarded him in utter silence, admittedly somewhat put off by his frenzied, manic demeanor. He looked as though he was grasping at the last fleeting strands of his sanity, truly on the brink of irrecuperable madness.
“You can see my thoughts. My memories.” Jayce sounded almost too excited at the prospect, a state of being that only became more unnerving when Viktor nodded in confirmation. He nodded to himself as he tried and failed to calm his trembling heart, not taking notice of the way that Viktor was gradually leaning away from him in a futile effort to reclaim space between them. But it was no use. Viktor was on the back side of the booth. There was nowhere that he could go where Jayce couldn’t follow him. He was cornered. Jayce exhaled shakily, closing his eyes before reopening them. And then he extended his hands, holding them palm side up in between the two of them. It was an invitation. Now was the time to be brave. To put total and utter trust in Viktor and take a leap of faith in much the same way that he had the night they’d done their first experiment together. Like he always had. Viktor had not led him astray then, and Jayce would not lead him astray now. “Then do it again. There’s something I need you to understand, and you’ll only believe me if you see it for yourself. Please…”
Viktor seemed to consider his proposition, weighing the gravity of the situation. Mere moments ago, Jayce had refused to so much as allow him to touch him, and now he wanted him to look into his mind and sift through his memories. There was no act more vulnerable. More intimate. More full of trust. Jayce still trusted him, and he needed Viktor to return the gesture. With a nod, he extended his hands and gently but firmly grasped Jayce’s trembling fingers, intertwining them. They closed their eyes, leaning in closer to one another as their minds melded together.
All at once, Viktor was assaulted with a plethora of undecipherable images. Flashes of things he could barely comprehend. Jayce’s mind was a maze of memories from his past and present, just the same as anyone else, but there was a certain disorganized chaos to his that made his consciousness especially difficult to navigate. Viktor gripped his hands just a bit tighter, wordlessly implying that he’d like him to at least attempt to focus. Coaxing him patiently. And he seemed to take the hint, obliging as best as he could despite the obvious discomfort that it caused him to do so.
Viktor suddenly wished that he hadn’t.
Ruined structures and the unknowable horror of countless innocent souls fading into nothingness, their faces warped in terror and anguish as they were claimed by a force beyond them. They had been unable to escape whatever pursued them. Mechanical humanoid constructs clung to the fringes of every surface they could occupy, decaying and corroding, their consciousness seemingly long gone and replaced by another will entirely. Withering away. Rotting. Purposeless. Buildings leaned in ways that indicated that they were coming apart at the seams, their very foundations crumbling to naught but ash and dust. And everywhere, there was the Arcane. It’s corruption, and it’s insatiable hunger to devour all that it touched like the physical manifestation of ruin itself. There was nothing left of Piltover. Of Zaun. Of the people who had once called the twin cities their home. Even the sky was corrupted, swirling in a never-ending torrent of otherworldly power. The sun was obscured by a permanently cloudy sky, blanketing the world in dreary darkness. Nothing could thrive in a place like this. There were no signs of life aside from a few warped plants and the familiar sight of golden flowers. The same air purifying hybrids they’d planted at the commune. And it continued for as far as the eye could see.
How had Jayce ever survived a place like this?
Out of reflex, Viktor clenched Jayce’s hands harder, almost hard enough to hurt but not quite. It was uncomfortable, but nothing compared to the hardship Jayce had already endured. He would not waver. This was something he simply had to endure. For both of their sakes.
Viktor saw what remained of the place he often visited when he needed to think. Where he’d met Sky as a child. Where he’d almost taken his own life in a fit of grief and desperation to repent for his wrongdoings in the only way he’d known how. He would’ve died there if not for Jayce. If not for the fleeting reminder of better times between them that they’d shared. But in this alternate version of the place, the water had risen, and the building had slumped over. Just another casualty amidst so many others.
And then he saw it. Jayce atop the very peak of the Hexgates. Viktor hardly wished to fathom what desperate actions had granted him passage there. What risks he had undertaken to reach its summit. He was kneeling before a figure in a white, sunbleached robe. A figure that he recognized by virtue of Jayce’s recollection as the person responsible for saving Jayce and Ximena during Jayce’s childhood. The mage who had inspired Jayce to create Hextech. He’d heard so many stories from Jayce over the years about that fateful day that he imagined it had been a bit surreal for him to finally come face to face with his savior. The man he owed so very much to.
Jayce was pleading with him, imploring him to instill in him some hope that their own world would not turn out the way that this rendition of it had. That there was still time to undo the perilous path fate had set them on. That he had set them on. And then, hesitantly, the hooded figure turned to face Jayce. And Viktor felt his own comprehension of reality shatter.
No. That simply couldn’t be.
There was no way…
Gripping his hands tightly, Jayce shuddered as he was confronted with that moment in his life for the second time. He could feel how desperately Viktor wanted to pull away. To run from this. But he wouldn’t let him. He couldn’t let him. As painful as it was, as much as he wanted to spare him this act of undeniable cruelty, this was something Viktor had to face. There was simply no other way.
Viktor took in the words of the mage. He felt the gravity of it all settle into his very soul. How many other timelines had been altered and met their ends the same way? How many versions of the two of them had met a grizzly end? How many times had Jayce brought him back only for them to go down diverging paths that would only end in their mutual annihilation? How many millions of innocent lives had been destroyed as a result of his own actions, intentional or otherwise? It was just as Jayce had said to him when he had spoken to him again via Salo at the base of the Hexgates.
Hextech is no miracle. It’s a curse. We have to destroy it, Viktor. We have to.
Wrenching his hands from Jayce’s grasp, Viktor toppled backward onto the booth. He retreated into himself, scurrying away into the back corner of the U-shaped bench as his breath came in rapid, unfulfilling torrents, his head racing and his heart pounding so hard in his chest that it was all he could hear. His stomach cramped as though he would be sick, the sensation overwhelming him as he crumpled into a ball and tried to shield himself from Jayce’s gaze. He couldn’t stand to have his former partner look upon him. To feel his eyes. His presence. He was undeserving of his comfort and sympathy. Of his understanding and trust. Of his affection.
He had destroyed Jayce. Destroyed their world. Again and again and again. It was his fate to do so just as it was the moon’s duty to disrupt the tides. Just as Janna controlled the winds. With all the certainty of the sun rising in the morning to bathe the world in light. Just as the void sought to devour all. He was chosen for this task time and time again. There was no one better. He was an agent of destruction that could only inflict pain. He had already started down the path to his ascension. The commune…
He was a monster…
Jayce stared at him, horrified. He was gasping for breath and trembling, his eyes wide but clearly seeing nothing as he sobbed soundlessly, his hands grasping his hair as his arms shielded his face almost entirely from view. His irises were their natural color again. Jayce had never seen him so distressed in all the time he’d known him. Not when his health had begun to decline. Not when he’d made the terrifying decision to have those screws infused into his spine. He genuinely looked as though his heart would fail and he would topple over dead any moment now. It physically pained Jayce to watch as he stared on in abject horror, his heart in his throat. Oh no…
He reached over and placed his hand on his, but Viktor snatched it away reflexively as though he’d burned him. In an instant, he scrambled past Jayce, heading over to the bar in the center of the room, his objective clear as day. There was only one thing he could be planning to do.
Jayce didn’t have the time to be impressed that he could drag the hammer that effortlessly. He barely had the time to turn around to see him heading back over to the booth. Viktor came to an abrupt stop in front of Jayce and released his grip on the hammer, paying no mind to the cascade of Arcane energy that trailed off of him as it toppled over and clanged against the edge of the table, ignoring the pain that touching the distorted weapon caused him. It wouldn’t matter soon.
Viktor met Jayce’s gaze as he crumpled to the floor, landing on his knees as he kneeled before him and surrendered, utterly devastated. There was only one thing to do. One surefire solution to this problem. He understood now.
“Please… kill me. Before I hurt anyone else. Before I hurt you, Jayce.” Viktor hung his head low, no longer able to look at Jayce. He would not fight him. This was how it had to be. How it should be. After a moment, he felt Jayce stir. Heard the creek of the booth as he shifted his weight off of it and the thud of his boots as he approached. Saw his legs come to a shaky stop in front of him as the floor vibrated and the floorboards creaked from the movement of the hammer. He hadn’t hesitated. Good. Then he understood, too. This was for the best. If dying kept him from harming Jayce, then this would be the easiest thing he’d ever done. The simplest act of love that he could fathom. Anything to spare him the fate that he’d seen befall him in that other timeline. He couldn’t bear the thought of becoming something capable of doing that to him. Not to Jayce. To Jayce, who was the least deserving of such a grizzly, tormented fate. Sweet, loyal Jayce, whose only mistake had ever been to show him devotion, friendship, and kindness. To care for him too deeply. He would make this right. He had to. He wanted to.
Viktor waited patiently for the signature sound the ruined Mercury Hammer made when it powered on, but it never came.
Instead, Jayce sighed and knelt down in front of him with a semi-pained grunt of exertion, reaching over to gently cup his chin with his calloused palm. Jayce attempted to guide him to look up at him, but he resisted at first, unwilling to look at him as moisture from his cheeks coated his hand. Undeserving of such a privilege. But slowly, the realization dawned on him that Jayce wasn’t going to budge until he humored him. And so he did.
… He looked like the Jayce he remembered. The version of him he’d left behind in the lab that day. The Jayce he loved. His warm eyes filled with nothing but fondness and adoration as Jayce shifted his hand from his chin to the back of Viktor’s neck, tenderly taking his hand in his own with his other hand as he pulled him forward into his embrace, their foreheads touching. He held him tightly but not forcefully, grounding him in the immovable, irrefutable weight of his company. They closed their eyes and lingered there for a while, wordlessly basking in the unspoken truth that neither of them was willing to ignore any longer. They were destined.
If there was one thing that Jayce was good at, it was disappointing Viktor.
“I'm not going to kill you, Viktor,” Jayce said in a hushed tone, squeezing his hand gently, soothingly rubbing his shoulder and neck. No. It was far too late for that. They were in this together now until the bitter end. Whatever that end might be. Jayce wasn’t going anywhere without Viktor, and he had the sneaking suspicion that Viktor felt the same. Now that he understood. “You didn't mean to do any of this. The Hexcore. It's influencing you. Don’t you see? We can still fight this. Together. It’s not too late.”
Jayce’s certainty was almost contagious. Almost. Viktor wasn’t ready to feel hope again, but he would not take it from Jayce. Not after everything that he’d gone through to be reunited with him. That would truly be the cruelest crime against him that he could commit. Viktor sighed defeatedly, finally opening his eyes. Jayce didn’t budge, seemingly content to stay as close to Viktor as physically possible. Now that he had him back, he wasn’t letting go. Not for anything.
Still… there was an undeniable logic to his words. Everything was clearer when he wasn’t under the influence of the Hexcore. Under the influence of the Arcane, all too willing to distribute its healing gifts with no foreknowledge of the fact that they were tainted. Why hadn’t he seen it? Realized that something was amiss sooner? Power such as what he’d been granted never came without a cost. His body alone was proof of this. He’d been so numb to the world around him, so dissociated from reality in his grief that he hadn’t thought to look inward. To view things through a more critical lens. And now others had suffered for it.
“I see that now. But it doesn't matter, Jayce. I've doomed them. I've done nothing to help anyone.” It had been his one wish. His deepest desire. And forces far beyond him had helped manipulate it, mold it into something tainted and malevolent. Laced every action he’d taken since he’d left the lab with a slow-acting poison. His mind drifted to the people of the commune. The kind souls who had dubbed him their Herald. It was a title he did not deserve. They’d sought him out for help, and he’d handed them a death sentence. He hadn’t known, but that hardly mattered. They were forsaken regardless. He would never forgive himself for his naivety. His hubris. To think he alone could mend the world. He was no god. And he didn’t want to be.
He had to make it right.
A chill crawled up his spine, but he did not shiver. He didn’t feel it so much as he sensed it, fleeting thing that it was. Perhaps Ambessa had been right about him. Perhaps he was blind to the world’s cruelty. Hopelessly naive.
Jayce objected, insistent upon his stance. “It does matter. We can figure this out. Together. I won't fail you. And giving up on you now would be just that. I know it probably feels like I'm not listening to you, but I hear you loud and clear. You're still in there, aren't you?”
Unfortunate as it might potentially be, he was. “Yes.”
With a groan, Jayce attempted to pull himself to his feet on shaky legs, realizing for the first time just how weary he truly was. Oh yes. The adrenaline had well and truly vacated his system now. Whatever vestiges of it still remained were not sufficient to enable him to power through the wave of full-body fatigue that now claimed him. He was in pain, woefully lethargic, and growing weaker by the minute. He needed to rest. Badly. But there was something he needed to take care of first…
He pulled Viktor to his feet by his hands, leading him more than anything. He stood there, regarding him with all the fondness in his heart, the pain in his eyes undeniable. Fate had been cruel to them both. To every version of them. But this time would be different. He didn’t know if his confidence was the result of delusion, ego, or the simple hubris of a man too enamored with the one he loved to think straight, but he didn’t care. Whatever it took.
Fate could have the world. It could have his life’s work. Hextech meant nothing to him anymore. He just wanted Viktor.
Viktor trembled in his grasp as he looked at him. He released his hand, resting it instead on Jayce’s arm, rubbing it in soothing circles. He wore his exhaustion on his sleeve. His eyes were dim, filled with fatigue. His shoulders slumped in a way that he’d never borne witness to before. Every facet of his being longed for the sweet embrace of sleep, and he could see that. But Viktor knew that Jayce wouldn’t rest. Not until he’d convinced him.
It was rare that he initiated touch. It wasn’t his preferred method of showing his affections. But he knew Jayce. Knew how much such a simple gesture meant to him. And that was enough to make it worthwhile in his eyes. He raised his other hand and placed it in the space between his neck and his shoulder, and Jayce shuddered, not from the temperature of his hand, but from the simple relief that came from being comforted after being alone for so long. Jayce threw his arms under Viktor’s and pulled him close, just as he had back in the lab. Nuzzling his neck affectionately, this time unafraid of overstepping. Rocking him back and forth as he cradled him gently. He was precious. Something he would cling to and cherish until his breath left him. He’d longed for this moment. Yearned until his heart could no longer take it and he was driven to the brink of insanity. But now they were together again. And he wouldn’t trade it for the world.
Jayce had his partner back.
“Then let's try. The hammer isn't going anywhere. In the meantime, we do what we do best. Together.”
Viktor hugged him back. He couldn’t feel his warmth, but he didn’t care. He could feel the depths of his fondness and devotion for him. That meant more to him than anything. He didn’t care about the way that Jayce’s newfound facial hair tickled his face and neck. How oily and unkempt his hair was. He didn’t even care about how objectively filthy he was. Well, perhaps he did a little, but it was strangely… appealing? Seeing Piltover’s golden child in such a state. He would unpack that later. He smelled like a wet dog, but that wasn’t anything that couldn’t be fixed. Jayce shuddered as Viktor ran his hands up his back comfortingly, leaning in and pressing them just that little bit closer as he dared to ask. “Together. As partners?”
“Partners.” Came his reply. Full of adoration. There was no hesitation.
In spite of it all, Viktor smiled. It was a slight thing, but a smile still. How had he ever seen fit to leave Jayce behind? His furry felt so distant now, so unimportant in the grand scheme of things. Even though he knew he’d had every right to be angry at what had transpired. But the illogical, unapologetically emotional part of his flawed human mind that he knew he should chastise simply didn’t care. He’d forgiven him a lifetime ago. The wounds hadn’t completely healed, and he wasn’t sure they ever would, but they could work on it. They were better together. Two aspects of the same truth. Inextricably bound. In every timeline, apparently...
“Besides… Someone has to do something about Ambessa…” Viktor said, a glint of something resembling sarcasm making an appearance. There was still that elephant in the room, wasn’t there…
Jayce released him slowly, almost reluctantly. Ah yes. Ambessa. He’d almost forgotten. He made a face as he considered that situation briefly, a sour taste lingering on his breath. And this time it wasn’t courtesy of all the poor, corrupted Waveriders he’d feasted upon. Since they were on that topic… “I meant to ask you… What did she want from you? Why did she kidnap you?”
Viktor sighed, suddenly twice as tired just thinking about it. If only Jayce had some idea of how loaded that question was. His eyes wandered back towards the booth, slowly making his way past the warped Mercury Hammer and back towards the spot they’d occupied before. There was no need to stand anymore. They were both exhausted, and this was a conversation they were perfectly capable of having sitting down. “It's complicated. And yet not complicated at all.”
“She wanted Hextech weapons?” Jayce guessed, following him over to the booth. That was the first thing that came to mind. More preposterous guesses reared their ugly heads, but they seemed wholly inappropriate considering the severity of the situation, so he would keep them to himself. But as he approached the booth and sat down next to Viktor, he couldn’t help but take note of the slight tint of red that blanketed Viktor’s face and the faintest traces of embarrassment that clung to his handsome features. Jayce stared in disbelief, utterly stunned. There was simply no way…
As if to confirm the suspicion that his blank stare betrayed, Viktor nodded twice, resting his forehead against his palm and his elbow against the table. Sometimes it really was that simple. “... She wanted, well, me. Quite desperately, I might add. That's my impression, at least. She asked, but…”
Oh. Yeah, that made sense. It also made Jayce’s blood boil, but…
“...What?” Jayce saw red. How dare she. Viktor was not some trophy to be stolen, sequestered away until she had use of him. Some pretty plaything to keep at her disposal to satiate her boredom. To use as she saw fit. What had Vi seen her do when they’d been on the roof?! He remembered her seeming slightly flustered. It was a good thing that he hadn’t been informed of her intentions until now. His decision-making skills were at an all-time low as of late, and given the right conditions, it would have been all too easy to do something truly… regrettable.
She couldn’t have genuinely been interested in him, could she? She didn’t know him! His mind harkened back to the day they’d met. The circumstances. He remembered the young courtesan she’d recruited to massage her while she spoke to him naked in the baths. How uncanny his resemblance to Viktor had been. They even had moles in the same exact locations on their faces. He’d been taken aback at the time, uncomfortable for reasons that evaded him, aside from the obvious indecency. But in retrospect, now he was even more incensed. Had she been toying with him?
Jayce growled, closing his eyes as the muscle in his neck ticked. When he reopened them, he was met with the sight of Viktor regarding him with a faint air of amusement, his brow slightly ajar. Jayce blanched, averting his eyes towards nothing in particular. Oh yes. No matter how feral and unhinged Jayce managed to be, he was still Jayce Talis, and Viktor could still read him like an open book. Was he jealous? Viktor scoffed. It suited him. “Yeah... That's a story for another time. Let’s just say it makes more sense than my original hypothesis ever did, and leave it at that. Ambessa certainly has a type…”
It seemed that they had that in common. Jayce suddenly felt nauseous.
Viktor shook his head. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d seen that expression on his face. Jayce wasn’t the sort of man who got jealous easily. It was almost funny.
And then from nowhere, Jayce yawned. He rubbed his face with his hands, barely able to keep his eyes open. The booth’s comfortable upholstery had been his undoing, and as he gazed quietly at Viktor, an idea presented itself. He knew precisely where he wanted to spend the night.
Stretching as much as his injured back would allow, he curled up on his side and laid down next to Viktor, the top of his head brushing against the outside of his thigh as he only just managed to fit on the bench. Sleeping curled up in a ball was nothing new to him. He’d been doing it for longer than he wanted to consider. He would survive. But Viktor still scooted down to the very end of the booth to afford them both more space, the taller of the two scooting up to make contact with him again. To be near him. He wasn’t getting away from him that easily.
Jayce looked up at him, a silent request in his eyes that Viktor only vaguely registered, his brow furrowing in perplexment as he evaluated the context clues present to him. Searching for something obvious that he’d overlooked. After a moment, it clicked. He nodded and moved his hands out of his lap, allowing Jayce to rest his head against his leg. He would humor him. Jayce sighed as he closed his eyes and settled into position as though the act alone had reduced every ache and pain in his body to nothing, contentment playing across his deliriously fatigued features. Viktor placed his left hand in Jayce’s hair, carding through it gently. It was disgusting. Jayce was a disaster. He hoped that he would never change.
“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this…” Jayce confessed almost sheepishly, failing to make eye contact with him. He’d never asked, always afraid that he was overstepping or that he might put too much pressure on his weaker leg and cause him pain. But now… he didn’t know where they stood, but context told him that perhaps it was appropriate to be more transparent about what they both felt. After everything they’d survived that day, a misreading of Viktor’s boundaries wasn’t going to prove to be the last straw between them. Still, he would make a point of not assuming going forward. Of asking first. He had no claim over him. No one did.
“I’m willing to make a guess,” Viktor said quietly, gazing down at him. Jayce seemed almost entranced, enthralled but the gentleness of his touch. After months of fitful sleep curled up on the cold stone ground of that wretched cave, he had earned this much. He was willing to play along. Just this once.
Jayce yawned again. I appear to be doing something right, he surmised.
“I understand now. Why the Hexcore encouraged me not to return after my departure. Why it attempted to keep me complacent.” He slowed his pace, gradually lulling Jayce into a state of security. It was strange. Viktor knew Jayce was exhausted. On the verge of collapse. But he seemed to be fighting the urge to indulge in his desire to rest. Was he afraid that he wouldn’t be there when he woke up? That this moment was too good to be true? He hoped not… “It would have never managed to influence me as it did if we had remained together. It needed me alone. Vulnerable. Lonely…”
“And I’m not going anywhere.” He gripped Viktor’s leg, squeezing it gently before glancing up at him languidly to double-check that he hadn’t hurt him. Viktor appeared to be walking much better now, but looks could be deceiving. He kneaded the muscle in his calf gently. Soothingly. At the very least, he hoped that the Hexcore had taken his pain from him. He deserved that much. “We’ll figure out a way to stop what it’s doing to you. I swear it.”
Viktor risked a smirk, a glint of mischief in his eyes as he watched Jayce slowly close his eyes, drifting off. He needed to rest. He’d more than earned the privilege. Viktor was fine. It wouldn’t be the first time he'd slept sitting up. “You should stop swearing things to me. The last time didn’t go so well.”
Jayce scoffed. There it was. Viktor’s biting sarcasm. Oh, how he’d missed it.
It was quiet now. Peaceful amidst the chaos of it all. Neither of them knew what was in store for them. But as they slowly drifted off, Jayce knew one thing for certain. There was no force in existence that he was unwilling to defy if it meant saving Viktor. They would rest. Recover. And then they would face all of this tomorrow. Together. As partners.
—
Oh my gosh. Okay. So this chapter was 35k. That’s over 15k more than my previous longest chapter ever. It took two weeks to write, but I think it was worth it. I would love to know what you think about the fic and the chapter in general! Did you like it? Writing this was such a privilege. I can’t believe 3k of you took the time out of your lives to read this. And as such, I wanted to tell you something…
I’M WRITING A PART TWO!
Yep, that’s right. I’ve lost my mind. I basically sat down one night and decided that I was going to completely rewrite act three because, yeah, who needs sleep! Clearly not me! I feel like the ending for this fic is great, but I can do better. So if you want to read part two, please come back on Friday, May 16th! The new fic will be called Damage Gets Done, and I’m also adding it as a series on AO3 so you can hop to it that way if you like! I would post it sooner, but I’ll also be participating in Bottom Jayce Week, so if you want to check that out, swing by! It’s May 5-11th! And sometime next month, I’ve got a zombie apocalypse AU in the works for you! Think WWZ+I Am Legend. kinda. Not normal zombies. You’ll see. It’s gonna be cool. I’ll keep you updated. Again, I’d love to hear what you thought of the fic if you have the time! And if you want more info on upcoming fics, you can follow me on Bluesky and Tumblr! Link is on the Masterlist! Come chat with me, I’m always looking to chat with the community!
Thank you so much for reading! I hope to see you in part 2! Bye-bye!
@melonbear51 @wuekka @mythbookworm18 @ahsokasgfriend @dragonling348 @coldcoleslaw @chaosyetorder @fandomsarepainful @gonzanova @awkwarddaydreamingpotato @endlessnightdreams @arcanebutterfly and @mameeta LMK if you don't want to be tagged in the future :D
#jayvik#jayce#viktor#jayce talis#arcane jayce#arcane viktor#jayvik fanfic#arcane ambessa#ambessa x viktor#Kinda#jayvik community#jayvik fandom#jayvik fanfiction#viktor arcane#arcane fanfic#jayce and viktor#jayce x viktor#jayce arcane#arcane community#arcane fandom#jayvik vs ambessa#arcane jayvik#viktor x jayce#arcane fan fiction#arcane#arcane jayvik fanfiction#I hope Viktor still knows how to run#Because Ambessa is fast#ambessa medarda#ambessa arcane
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I love your platonic yandere writing! Your characterization and dialogue is one of my favorite things. You can tell you really thought hard about how these characters might get to this state. I wanted to say I also love your multi-target Primal Moon Sun Wukong! He's down from tens of thousands of subjects! Let him have a whole family to grab up and hoard! (RIP Y/N and Macaque. I'd say MK too, but honestly, Primal Moon MK seems pretty here for it lol.) (Also not gonna lie, Y/N is the center focus of course (and special RIP to them for being a human caught up in the middle of a group of monkeys! It's exactly as stressful and dangerous-feeling as it should be!), but Macaque's particular dynamic with Wukong and MK have caught me heart and soul here. The actual monkey social structures you're translating have really made this my favorite part of this AU, honestly. It's really good!)
Oh, thank you so much! I spend a lot of time cross-referencing my dialogue to that of the characters I write, so I’m glad my efforts have been paying off!
I really liked the idea of Sun Wukong going yandere for multiple people- part of his backstory is that he just wanted more and more.
So when his inhibitions are artificially stripped away, he sort of temporarily devolves in terms of character development, going back to “I want everything I can have!” but in a familial way, this time. So he builds himself a new troop for the week, no matter how much Y/N and Macaque might try to resist.
As you’ve said it, MK is living for this. One loving family member who doesn’t want to leave you under any circumstances (SW) and two who can’t. (You and Mac)
It helps that being second in command gives him a serious sense of control and power, which he does exert frequently.
I’m glad you think it felt stressful and dangerous! The Primal Moon definitely… messes demons up, and none of the three are the best at dealing with it.
Macaque definitely comes the closest, but he still has a lot of his own nonsense to deal with, like his own overwhelming urge to obsessively engage in stress-relieving behaviors. This can easily lead to Sun Wukong and MK putting him under lock and key, if not outright physically restraining the shadow demon to keep him from accidentally committing some form of self-harm.
I’m glad you like the dynamic he has with these two! Macaque tries to portray himself as some kind of “edgy badass”, but the Primal Moon strips away his ability to do so- there’s so much that Mac needs now, like affection and reassurance and warmth. And, even if he gets them, there’s still the harmful stereotypies that he’ll engage in, any form on self-soothing that makes things feel better.
So restraints and forced cuddles and genuine love from his “troop”… though Y/N is the only one he openly accepts the doting of, given their respect of his boundaries.
And I’m super glad you like the social structures! Monkeys are absolutely fascinating creatures, after all- if also brutal and complex.
Thanks so much for the comment!
#Time Talks#Platonic Yandere#Yandere Lego Monkie Kid#Yandere LMK#Yandere Sun Wukong#Yandere MK#Yandere Macaque#Primal Moon
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kiss it better || Joel Miller x f!reader**
summary: one of Joel's bad days turns into a rather heated make-out session.
word count: 1.2k
warnings: tension, dry humping, Joel being needy & somehow still a gentleman lol.
A/N: for my dearest @wild-at-heart-kept-in-cage who came up with this idea 🥰 feedback is always appreciated!💕
AGELESS/EMPTY BLOGS & MINORS WILL BE BLOCKED!
The air in the room feels constricting, even damp. Tension floats from the second you set foot inside, but especially when your eyes land on his figure.
Joel Miller has more bad days than good days, but usually with you, the good seems to outweigh the bad. You’re like a patch, conveniently pressed on his past’s wounds. You learned how to identify his behaviors, when to back off and when to inch closer to him.
Based on the dimmed lights in the room, the thick air and the exhausted look on Joel’s face, this is one of the times he might need company. So you cautiously approach him, trying to find his eyes.
“Didn’t see you at dinner,” you say taking a seat on the edge of the bed.
“Wasn’t hungry.”
You take his hand into yours, pleasantly remarking that he allows that.
“Bad day?” you ask.
Joel nods, still not looking at you. He seems to be doing everything possible to stare at the floor—virtually anywhere but around him.
“That’s okay,” you tell him. “We all have good and bad days.”
“Thank you.”
“You don’t have to thank me. I’m here for you when you need it, always.”
Joel squeezes your hand, still staring at you. During tough times like these, Joel finds himself speechless in his attempt to express to you how much he appreciates your presence in his life. Your presence has become more than just a constant; you’ve become a rock when he needs you most.
“I can leave if you want some space,” you coo, mindlessly playing with a few locks of hair.
As usual, Joel doesn’t express himself through words. He simply squeezes your hand further, thus letting you know he still wants you in the room. You concede, pressing a tentative kiss on his cheek. But then Joel turns his head and captures your lips instead.
The kiss is a mere small gesture of I-got-your-back, something to let each other know that you understand one another. Yet it rapidly evolves into something slightly needier, with Joel grabbing your hips and lifting you slightly so that you’re straddling his lap. None of his touches or wishes are anything new, but the moment feels still too sensitive to take any of this for granted.
“You’re not goin’ anywhere, darlin’,” he coos.
“Joel,” you coo, oddly enticed by this point.
You cup his cheeks, feeling like you’re holding the whole world in your hands as you do so, peppering small kisses all over his face.
“Whatever you want to do, whatever you need… I’ll give to you,” you tell him in the sweetest, most intoxicating way.
Like usual, Joel isn’t a man of many words; they often fail him. So instead, he grabs handfuls of your ass and starts to help your body grind against his thighs. You’re already clenching against nothing, huffing and puffing as Joel’s lips travel down your neck and licking wet stripes on the sensitive skin there.
“Are you sure you—hmmmfff—are you sure you want—“
“Are you questionin’ my intentions?” he growls in your earlobe, biting it gently right after, thus causing you to shiver.
“Never,” you smile and reposition yourself so that you straddle only one of his thighs. You remain clothed, and yet somehow, the friction between your covered clit and Joel’s thigh is causing your head to spin feverishly, a delicious frenzy to be had.
“Take off your shirt,” Joel mutters.
His hands linger on your back, having been tugging at the fabric long before he even gave the command. But you obey without much thought, if any at all. You only stop to remove said shirt, exposing your bra. Joel briefly licks his lips, his eyes falling to your beautiful breasts, then back at your face, darkened by lust.
“Take that off too.”
And you do; you unclasp your bra, letting it fall to the floor. You expect to remove everything else, but Joel says nothing else and simply begins playing with your breasts, taking your nipples in his mouth till they pebble under the wet touch of his tongue, and remaining buried between them as you resume your grinding.
Your hands are joined around his neck, holding onto his broad shoulders as you chase your high, and Joel takes an even greater pleasure, as well as comfort, in watching you use him like that. It isn’t usage as much as a simple need. A primal, carnal need that is entrenched into the idea of comfort. Joel didn’t really need to get off. He simply needed to feel you, to have you there, a physical reminder that things will be okay and that yes, he can do this.
He can be alive and enjoy it.
Before he’s fully conscious of his own actions, his hips jerk upwards, in a failed attempt to rub up against you, to feel every—clothed—inch of you, however attainable.
“You’re s’soft,” you hear him grumble from your neck, his voice rich with want and something else, something that’s utterly consuming him. “That’s it, take what you want, darlin’.”
You can’t do anything but mumble mostly nonsensical things, chasing your high like your life depends on it. Yours might not, but Joel’s seems to be: he’s grunting, his hands gripping your ass tight as he’s stirring you front and back on his thigh. You’re a mess at this point, and so is your underwear, already soaked and riled up just as you are.
Then you feel the buildup in your belly; slowly, steady, but burning nonetheless. You act on a whim and pull Joel’s face close to yours, kissing him with an aching fire. His kisses always consume you, burning your whole body from inside out and making your head spin so fast you swear you feel high whenever you’re with him.
Your skin is hot and tingly in anticipation, and you moan in Joel’s mouth as your orgasm slowly builds in your belly. He feels your whole body tightening, and holds you even closer to him, whispering words along the lines of It’s alright, I’m right here and Let go for me, I got you, I always got you.
And you know his words to be true; especially when you seize up on his thigh, clenching around nothing and cupping his cheeks and pulling him into a manic kiss to prevent yourself from screaming his name and thus having the whole neighborhood hear.
Although Joel wouldn’t mind that one bit.
But for now, you remain locked Joel’s arms, topless and reeling from the power of your orgasm. You find the strength to pull away in the slightest, just for a mere second, to look at him. You notice the faintest trail of smile on his lips, which makes you smile as well.
“What?” you can’t help but ask, perhaps foolishly so.
“I’m so lucky to have you.”
It’s not often that Joel makes such declarations, but when he does… oh, how he makes your heart flutter and your eyes teary.
“Are you okay?” he asks in return.
“I am. I’m the luckiest woman in this whole damn country.”
And then you melt into his arms, into his touch and into the kiss he chastely presses to your lips.
#joel miller#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#joel miller x f!reader#joel miller x female reader#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller fic#joel miller smut#joel miller x y/n#tlou#the last of us#tlou fanfiction#tlou fic#the last of us fanfiction#the last of us fic#pedro pascal#pedro pascal fanfiction#pedro pascal fic#pedro pascal smut
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Next batch of fanart spam tonight, here's a batch of my personal current HC ships within the Equestria Girls-world of the "Diamond Verse" (aka: my "Universe A"/main ng ship AU). Mainly being mix of EQG ships that are either longterm OTPs of mine, and/or just pairs I think could be narratively interesting/creative to work with (-which prob explains why a good chunk of these are crackships lmao).
(Note: ofc as these are just my own personal ships, DO refrain from sending any hate or however if you disagree with these pairs; I'm just here to vibe with silly technicolor horse-human ships, soooo... yeah, don't take this too seriously lol🙏)
Ship explanations below for those curious 👀:
-Sunset Shimmer x Flash Sentry-
From exes torn apart by greed & power, to slowly rekindling friendship thanks to Sunset's change of heart… never would either expect that things would fall back full-circle through them regaining feelings again~ ❤️🔥
Was it a perfect transition? Probably not. Would there still be days of Sunset doubting herself, even with Flash's doting patience with her? Absolutely. Yet even so, as every phoenix burns bright… Sunset's happy to finally put her past behind her, embracing these changes everyday with Flash proud to cheer her on~ 💙❤️
-Sci Twi x Aria Blaze-
No one in their school would've ever expected the Dazzlings of all people to redeem themselves among a normal school faculty… yet the M6 proved them wrong as one by one, these once-pesky sirens have worked to become better beyond their hypnotic singing prowess.
With these two in particular, the purple second-in-commands seemed to be an interesting match of opposites; the cool-tempered punk and the giddy nerd. Whilst Aria may deny feeling much for Sci Twi when they're out and about… there's no denying the warm glow on her face whenever Twi does something like banter on about science facts, take her exploring the town, or even just the lil things like gifting her a plush that "reminds her of Aria" (aka: a sea-star lol). Silly, insignificant things the old Aria would've declared back then… but now, when it all comes down to it, she'll be glad to throw the biggest siren hands to keep this adorable dork safe & sound~ 💜
-Fluttershy x Adagio Dazzle-
To tackle redeeming the main leader of the Dazzlings was a task no better to give than to Fluttershy, the soft-spoken Element of Kindness herself. Of course, her dear friends were worried of how she'd handle being around someone so "conniving" like Adagio… but well, if her pony counterpart could handle bringing a Draconequus down-to-earth, then why not her human self with a siren baddie?~ ;)
And so, that's what leads us to today… as now the once haughty Adagio has gained a new sense of pride lovingly doting to her butterfly-winged angel. From fancy dinner dates, dancing, and occasionally playing with some duet karaoke… there's no prying apart these star-crossed sweeties~ 💛💗
-Applejack x Sonata Dusk-
With Aria & Adagio out of commission in terms of villainy, all that's left was Sonata Dusk… while arguably not a huge threat with her impulsive "simpleton" ways, there's still big a risk to let her roam about freely. And so, among the M6 to take the job of calming down this sneaky siren was none other than Applejack. I mean, the gal's handled plenty of pests with her natural-born firmness, this shouldn't be a problem…
…well, which is what she would've said, if it weren't for the revelation just how much of an annoying, perpetually-clingy cat Sonata can be when it comes to "bonding". Hmpf, well whats an AJ to do, if this pretty lil pest's not gonna be leaving her side anytime soon, now…? What to do, what to do, indeed…~ ;P
-Pinkie Pie x Rainbow Dash-
…Weeeell, ngl I don't really have a big story for this one, I just wanted an excuse to have RainbowPie (one of my first ever M6 ships) in my main HC verse somewhere whilst still having AppleDash within the pony world variant… yee lol :p
Bubbly lil party girl with her headstrong tomboy gf, a true prankster power couple in Canterlot High one would say~ ;3 To say any of the M6 were surprised when they announced they were dating would… well, okay no one actually was, they could spot those two's chemistry from a loooong mile away~ lmao
-Rarity x Timber Spruce-
Now, this one's perhaps the one pair no one expected to form in this colorful group… as Rarity figured with all her other bffs gaining partners of their own, she'll just have to go find her future beloved herself. Cue her going down an embarrassing list of blind dates, matchmaking events, even simply batting her eyes at some potential suitors at her tailor job only yielded so many results…
And so, Rarity resigned herself to take a break from the madness by visiting the museum's cafe section now & then… which just so happened to be Timber Spruce's favorite spot to hangout, coincidentally-enough. Though not expecting much aside from a brief hello & goodbye… something about their meetup just sparked the two to talk more, grab some coffees and exchange numbers after catching up on their lives. Cocky as he may be on the surface, there was something about Timber that had an odd, wholesome charm to him with his enthusiasm about gems, plants & silly puns… and Rarity has thought about sprucing up her workshop some more…
(Did this bring up any awkward feelings, given Timber Spruce's status as Twilight's ex? Oh certainly, as Rarity would ofc fret about that very night… but well, as she'd come to realize (from even Twi telling her face-to-face), her & Timber had long since moved on after amicably splitting so long ago. So really, as far as Twi sees it… as long as Rarity's happy, thats all that matters~ 🤗💜 )
#my art#mlp fanart#eqg fanart#eqg#flashset#sciblaze#flutterdagio#applenata#pinkiedash#rarispruce#(*i'm a lil rusty at ship names lol*)
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Greetings @ham-cheese-toastie ! Lol
I was very much intending to write you fluff for this secret santa, but....well, you said angst :)
If you give me your Ao3 I'll gift it to you on there
Nestled within the thick of the strangler fig trees, under the dappled view of the sun above the vines, is an oasis. At least, that is how Odysseus refers to it. It's a small dip in the ground and it goes dry easily, leaving sandy mud and long grasses in its wake. But it rains often enough that it fills with muddy water, the sun shines onto it just enough to make it barely reflective.
Odysseus can visit when he likes, safe from the prying of Calypso.
Whether she truly doesn't know of his getaway, or if she simply deigns to overlook his sporadic absences, he does not know.
But, in those moments, he gets to truly look at himself. The murky water dulls him, but he can't deny it. In the water, he thinks he can see himself trapped within the embrace of the lotus. His body is older, and much more weary. Lines have spread across his face- more like the cracks in a foundation than the rings of a tree. He has less color in his hair than he remembers, gray slowly encroaching from his temples and sneaking its way up into his hair and down to his beard. Both of which have grown out past his shoulders. But his eyes …they seem cloudy. His sight is focused- intrinsically, like breathing, he knows exactly what he wants- where he wants to go.
But the haze weighs him down. It makes him want to drop and plant himself right where he is.
That, he suspects, is Calypso's enchantment. Maybe she's trying to encourage him to love her.
He can't tell if his love for Penelope is so true and profound that no love magic could ever truly bend the flow of his heart …or if this is what Calypso thinks love is.
This heavy feeling that doesn't allow him to fully entertain leaving, that clouds his mind and makes him forget how to build a raft. The weight in his limbs that bind him in place like a dog, each day getting quieter and quieter before it realizes that escape is impossible and trying is pointless. This…this helplessness that trails him each day.
As if love is just …not being able to leave.
He thinks it might be easier if he did try to learn to love her. Maybe he's just exhausting himself for a fruitless task. He'll never get to see if his son has his mother's eyes, he'll never track the gray in Penelope’s hair, he'll never again catch up with Diomides, he'll never know how Helen is fairing after being reunited with the King of Sparta.
And all for what? For disarming an active threat?
Zeus can order him to drop a baby from a wall; but he pokes the eye of a man-eating Cyclopes and suddenly none of Odysseus's previous heroic acts matter at all?
He fears his despair may drown him, like a more depressing rendition of what happened to Narcissisus.
A haunting sound- like a minor chord on a kalimba- breaks his terrible musings. He snaps his attention up abruptly and wishes his soul could truly leave his body for a bit, so that he might converse with him on an equal plane.
“Why do you follow me?” He asks, his voice rough and painful.
Polites smiles. Only Polites would smile as a shade.
Odysseus just watches the stillness of his old friend, the way the air seems to warp uncomfortably around him. He stiffens at the cold that trickles down neck.
The wind whispers into his ear, stealing Eurylochus’s voice to do so. “I've never known you to roll over so easily,” he comments.
Odysseus turns around, but he sees no one. He looks back across the pond and Polites is gone. In his place is a little gray winion, with fluffy fur that occasionally wisps out like stormy cirrus clouds. It wears a red bandana around its head and holds a lotus flower in its stubby hands.
The voice returns. “In the end, you ate the lotus.”
Odysseus scowls. His mouth doesn't move, but he sees his reflection respond, the figure of his Second in Command standing just behind him. “She forced it on me.”
“Maybe he doesn't love Penelope enough,” the voice of Perimedes comes from somewhere.
“No, he loved them too much!” Declared the slurred voice of Elpenor, which Odysseus thinks is just unfair.
“Regardless,” Eurylochus cuts them off, “he can never seem to do the right thing. Maybe if he didn't ruin things with Athena …”
The Winion across the pond doesn't say anything. It simply stares, offering the lotus.
He'd have to swim to accept it.
Eurylochus scoffs. “You were never fit to be Captain-”
‘Captain’ echoes. All at once, he hears six hundred voices calling out to him in distress. Each one is begging for him to do something, to protect them, to make a decision and use his wit to get them away from certain death.
But direct combat was never his forté. He didn't know what to do.
In his frustration, he slashes the water, watching the little waves tear apart his reflection.
He opens his eyes with a start, finding his lungs constricting and the sun waving a wobbly goodbye above him.
He panics and flails until he's in a good position to shoot up and hull himself back onto the grass, coughing out dirty water. When he's done heaving, he looks up to find a figure blocking the sun.
His heart skips. He tries to speak, coughs, tries again. “I..p….Penelope?” He gasps.
The figure leans down, and then he thinks it's Athena, swooping down to pick him up and carry him away in her talons.
He blinks and it's gone.
He glances behind him, to the other side of the pond, to find it empty.
He stands up, taking slow breaths, only to startle at the woman that's appeared in front of him.
He slumps. “Calypso,” he relents.
Calypso's sweet, genuine smile is too much. “Hello my love, let's get you away from this pond, alright?”
She lures him away with cold and heavy hands.
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hey so for the character asks thing, what lead to your characterisation of cassus fett? also what got you interested in him initially?
oh BOY you have activated the Cassus Thoughts that are perpetually about half a millimeter below the surface of my brain. congrats! i never stop thinking about him!!! read-more because it got. um. long.
initially, he just kind of came to be because Revan needed an enemy to focus on that wasn't Mandalore himself, because i didn't want Revan and Mandalore meeting on the battlefield before, well, Malachor. honestly, a lot of his early characterization came from me looking at what Canderous said about the war in kotor (and k2 i guess. but i didn't play k2 until later lol) and going "...okay, this is a guy who's going to believe the same things, but he's also a strategist of Revan's caliber, and he's going to spend the entire war setting traps for her."
Mandalorian honor has always been the central part of his character for me! and the fun part was making all the war crimes fit within that framework. there's only one thing my Cassus holds more sacred than his honor, and that's his mand'alor, which creates some FASCINATING interactions with Revan when... he can order entire cities to be bombed, he can give the commands on Cathar and Serroco, he can and will use Alek to lure Revan into an impossible situation so she'll sacrifice her own men to save him! that's all fine! because, by the standards of the Mandalorians of his time, absolutely none of that is dishonorable!
he and Revan are very very much the same in many ways. and he knows this, and spends the entire three years of the war trying to get Revan to acknowledge it. and she does! finally! on Malachor, where she kills him in the first version of my kotor canon. a lot of that came from me talking with @azems-familiar; our Cassuses are effectively identical, and a lot of that early characterization came from me writing him as he is in my mando wars fic, and then Lee writing their mando wars fic and developing him even more, and it just kind of snowballed from there. they made him the initial Revan foil; my fic didn't quite get that far! (first draft, at least. it will be much more obvious when i edit it)
the second main aspect of his characterization is the loyalty, for which i entirely blame @tarrevizsla. they invented the initial characterization for Mandalore the Ultimate and it all went downhill from there, by which i mean they went "cassus/te ani'la" and the collective old republic hell server braincell activated to cement that forever into our worldview. it wasn't even on the horizon of my thoughts when i wrote bright burning. which is so funny to me now, because... it's so central to how i write Cassus! that loyalty is just as important, perhaps moreso, to him than his honor. in my timeline, he was twenty on Cathar, thirty-three at Malachor; he's spent most of his adult life in this war serving Mandalore, and most of that time as Field Marshal - and canonically, he was not only a genius tactician but hugely responsible for some of the most important changes the Mandalorians underwent at this point. and to do any of that, he had to have Mandalore's trust.
it's just so fascinating to me to explore this character who is barely mentioned in kotor (is he mentioned at all outside the flavor text of his armor and blaster??) but who had to have such a huge hand in shaping the war. he has some more appearances in the kotor comics, but the kotor comics are.... bad. they're very bad, and i ignore most of them. in that regard, his rank in my fics is a little different in practice to how it appeared in the comics; he is part of high command, but he's the only field marshal, not one of several (because... look. nothing about the ranks makes sense in canon, canon is fake, and Mandalore just handing out the position of marshal to a bunch of people to keep the piece makes no sense!!!).
that wasn't a deliberate rewriting of the comics, though. i figured out all the rank stuff for my universe way before i even touched the comics, which is why so much of my Mandalorian worldbuilding is just... vastly different. anything important i got from wookieepedia. again: the comics are fake, and if i don't look at them they don't exist. the sole exceptions are, like, three panels that live rent-free in my head. that's it.
uh. that went longer than i thought! hope that answered your question, and thank you so much for the ask! i'm so normal about him.
#kotor#cassus fett#answered asks#the beskar spear is also a whole-cloth invention by the hell server#well. by lee and i while i was writing dxun. and then it migrated.#anyway i'm insane about cassus and writing even more fic for him so this really came at the perfect time#actually my original cassus ship was cassus/canderous and that has just. left my orbit ENTIRELY.#even in my earlier stuff. like cassus lives aus (back when they were aus. i hate his ass) where he'd been in love w te ani'la. he ended up#having something with canderous#and it's SO funny looking back because now i'm just sighing and ignoring all of that. He Would Not Fucking Do That etc etc#he really has had a fascinating evolution as i've written him.
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Feverish Flirtations
Summary: You've been the lead medic for General Billaba's battalion for awhile now and you've had a crush on Captain Grey for almost as long. What happens when a fever and a trip to the med bay loosens the Captain's tongue? Pairing: Captain Grey x Reader Rating: Gen (but minors DNI) Word Count: 4,219 A.N: This is for the wonderful, beautiful, and lovely @imarvelatthestars ! While writing this I think I may have become a Grey fan lol. Also, I know there's some inconsistencies with him from the comics, like having the rank of Commander in the comics but Captain in TBB. I went ahead and went with Captain since TBB is more recent, but I included the characters Styles and Stance from the comics since they're the only other named clones from their battalion. Anyway, I really hope you like my interpretation of Grey's character and that you enjoy this little fics!
Warnings: Mentions of medical procedures and illness.
“I’m telling you I’m fine, Doc, you just said the bleeding is internal- that’s where the blood’s supposed to be!”
Your eyes flickered up from your datapad to meet the clone’s attempt at a charming grin. A part of you wanted to laugh, mostly at the expectant look he was giving you, and if you weren’t so tired you probably would have. Right now, though, all you could do was sign.
“Styles, you already told me that joke. You know, the last time you landed yourself in here with a traumatic injury.”
His face fell just a little, “Oh- I did?”
“Guess you should scan to see if his brain’s still there too, Doc,” called Stance from the next bed.
That one did manage to get a small smile out of you, and you saw Styles get some of his pep back at the sight. Then, in a light tone, you said, “Oh, I don’t think it’s that, I think his time with me is just that forgettable.”
Styles sat up as best he could in the med bed, “Come on now, mesh’la, you know you’re as unforgettable as they come.” He winked at you, and you also might have felt a little flustered at his term of endearment, again, if you weren’t so tired.
“I’m sure,” your tone was still light, and you gave him a small smile as you finished making the notes in his chart. Despite the nature of his injuries, he would be just fine. Thank the maker.
“Oooh, barely a polite brush off,” Stance crooned, “Better luck next time, brother. Now, Doc, when can this poor injured trooper get your undivided, tender care?”
“When you have a real injury,” Styles rolled his eyes, though even you could tell there was no real malice there, just brothers in arms giving each other a hard time.
“I do have one!” he lifted the arm the field medic had already temp-treated with a bacta wrap, “Look, I have a boo boo on my bicep. Kiss it better, Doc?”
You felt your eyebrows quirk up, but before you could think of a comeback a stern voice called out behind you.
“Stance, Styles!”
Both men were snapping to attention- or in Styles’ case, as best he could laying down. You turned to see none other than Captain Grey walking into the med bay with the medic who would be relieving you for the next shift. Grey’s eyes were firm as he looked between the two men, a look that, while not uncommon for the Captain, was rarely present when you were in the room.
“Make sure I never hear you speaking so disrespectfully to our staff again. Am I understood?”
A minor rush of panic flowed through you as both men said a loud “Sir, yes sir.”
You held up your hand, instantly catching the officer’s attention. “Oh, please, Captain, there’s no need for all that, they weren’t being disrespectful.”
There, you saw it, the way his deep brown eyes softened when they were on you for more than a second. The way the lines at the corner of his mouth smoothed, his eyebrows lifting up a fraction, and his head tilting just a bit as if to lean closer to your presence. Maybe you imagined it every time, a hopeful fantasy, but he most definitely did ease up a little at your words.
He couldn’t backpedal on the order, though, which you respected, and settled for him asking how the boys were doing. You gave him and the other medic your reports, which were thankfully standard and very little cause for concern. It was a good day- or, as good as a day could be during a war.
Now that you were officially relieved, you wished the troopers a good night, reminding Styles to rest up, lest he have to spend more than a night cooped up here. You had just started to turn to the door when…
“Let me walk you back to your quarters.”
Even your exhausted state couldn’t stop you from feeling the nervous excitement starting in your chest, given that it was Grey who offered. Outwardly, all you gave was a polite, thankful nod, before saying goodnight to the others and heading for the door.
There was a brief, comfortable silence for the first few moments you two walked together down the corridor, before he cleared his throat.
“I’m…sorry about them, sometimes they forget that comments like that can make civilians uncomfortable.”
You turned a smile on him and, again because it was him, it was easy to make it warm. “Don’t worry, Grey, I wasn’t uncomfortable.”
His mouth twisted a little as he looked at you from the corner of his eye, “You just seemed…a little stressed when I came in, I assumed it was because of their flirting.”
“Oh! Oh no, it wasn’t that,” you laughed lightly, hoping to put his mind at ease, “I’m just tired is all. You know I spend all my time here on the ship worrying about you boys, it was a long day of that when we lost contact with your recon team.”
Finally, it was his turn to grin and your heart did its typical pitter patter whenever he smiled at you. Unfortunately, the look vanished as suddenly, he stopped in his tracks and held back a grunt of some kind. Then he was turning his head away from you, fist shooting up to cover his mouth as he let out a string of deep coughs.
“Grey, are you alright?” you stepped a little closer to him as he tried to hold back another cough, then cleared his throat.
He nodded his head, trying for that small, lopsided smile again, “ ‘m fine, just a scratchy throat.”
Your eyes narrowed, “Should I be sending you back to the med bay?”
As if to usher you along, he started walking again, pointedly in the direction of the lifts. “No no, I’m fine. Promise. I think the plant-life around the old ‘sep base just got to me a little bit.”
Even though you had resumed walking beside him, you still kept your gaze concerned and a little suspicious. “If it gets any worse, you call me, or go to the medic on duty, understand?”
“Sir, yes, sir” he said as if you were his CO, though his tone was lighter this time and he was still smiling.
The two of you walked in silence for a few moments, then this time he cleared his throat in a way that might have had nothing to do with his cough. “So, what you said earlier…you really don’t mind the flirting?”
You let out a little huff of laughter, “Not really, it never goes too far after all. You and your men have always treated me with respect and I know they’d listen if I ever told them it wasn’t appropriate.”
Something in him seemed relieved as he nodded. “Good. I didn’t like the thought that they were crossing a line with you, I’m glad they weren’t. And I’ll…keep that in mind.”
You weren’t exactly sure what he was going to keep in mind, but, given how he suddenly looked like he was turning something over in his head, you decided not to ask.
Another comfortable silence fell over you both for a while, and it wasn’t until you were out of the lift and on the level for your quarters when he struck up some small talk. It wasn’t anything noteworthy, besides the fact that talking to Grey about anything was something you would always welcome.
Though, he did seem a little different in his way of talking, halting at the end of sentences like he was holding back a question, or taking a breath to prepare for another comment, before closing his mouth silently. It was almost as if he was trying to find an opening to say something specific.
Or, maybe he was just trying to hide his cough from you, because a few steps before reaching your door, he burst into another short fit.
“Grey,” your tone was soft, but firm, “Please go have that checked out, we don’t want our captain getting sick.”
“It’s not bad,” he insisted again, “We have some antihistamines in our emergency med kits, I’ll take one of those and be fine.”
“Grey-”
“You don’t have to worry about me, Doc,” he insisted, not unkindly and with a soft expression that lightened the depth of the scar across his face. You knew that some of the boys liked your fussing, finding it endearing, and you wondered if Grey felt the same.
But it didn’t matter if he liked it or not, you would worry and fuss either way. “Yes, I do have to worry, Grey, it’s my job.”
“I promise if it gets worse, I’ll go straight to the med bay and raise you on the comms to let you say I told you so, how about that?”
Well, that was probably the best you were going to get out of him. “Alright, deal.”
Again, Grey opened his mouth, as though some sentiment or question was on the tip of his tongue. His eyes were even lit up a little, like an idea was sparking something behind them.
Alas, whatever it was, he hadn’t found time to broach the topic before you were at the door to your bunk and he closed his mouth yet again. Still, he shifted for a moment, tucking his helmet under his arm a little more securely as he looked to your door. He hadn’t said goodnight yet, either.
“Grey?”
His eyes finally met yours again and looked a little surprised, “Yeah?”
“Is there… something specific you wanted to talk about?”
For a moment, all he did was stare back at you, again, seeming to think something over in his mind. Finally, though, he closed his eyes and let out a small breath, then looked at you again with a polite smile.
“Maybe another time. For now, you need your rest, can’t have our favorite medic this tired.”
You nodded, maybe feeling a little disappointed, but respected whatever decision it was he had come to. “Sir, yes sir,” you said with a little salute. “Goodnight, Grey.”
“Goodnight, Doc.”
The next morning, you had just gotten your hands on your first cup of caf in the mess hall when your commlink beeped. The code was Styles’ and your brow furrowed in confusion as you answered.
“Um, hey, Doc, the Captain told me to call you and say ‘you told him so’?”
Well, kriff.
You were down in the med bay in record time, even leaving your drink behind, a testament to just how much this particular man meant to you. There was the on-duty medic and Styles, flanking a very dizzy looking Grey who was dressed in nothing but his blacks. Though he was sitting upright on the bed, he looked half ready to tip over with the way he was swaying.
“He insisted that you be the one to look him over,” said the other medic, stepping aside as you approached.
“ ‘Course I did,” Grey mumbled, eyes barely staying open, “I promised Doc could say told you so…so-” he waved his hand at you, as if presenting a valid point with the gesture.
“As you can tell, he’s a bit delirious,” your colleague huffed.
Grey opened his mouth to say something to the other medic, but when your hands reached up to press against his forehead, he let out a long breath instead. “Ooh, your hands are niiice.”
It was no wonder he thought so, he was burning up badly, the fever coating his face in a sheen of sweat. He burst into a horrendous fit of coughs then, worse than last night and sounding full of phlegm.
“I was on my way back to my bunk when I found him slumped against the walls of the corridor near his quarters,” Styles informed as you took Grey’s pulse the moment the coughing died down, “said he was trying to get to the med bay so he wouldn’t make you mad.” Then he actually huffed out a chuckle. “Or at least, that’s what I gathered from his babbling.”
“Alright, Captain,” you started, gently guiding him, “lay back, let’s run some tests and find out what’s going on.”
“-don’t have to call me Captain, good-lookin’,” Grey mumbled with an attempt at a smile while he did as you asked.
Figuring that keeping him talking was good, you quirked an eyebrow as you grabbed the scanner, “Good-looking, huh? And here you were scolding Styles for flirting just last night- No no, lay on your back, Grey, keep still,” you insisted when he tried to roll over on his side towards you.
The action caused another bout of choked hacking to ensue but Grey obeyed, staying flat on his back, even as he kept slurring nonsense when he could speak again. “Want to flirt… Wanted last night… chickened out. You’re too sweet when you fuss over me.”
You tried to ignore the heat creeping across your face, this was no time to feel flattered or embarrassed by his words, ones that you barely caught as you read the data scrolling across the screen of your scanner. Styles was silent as you worked and Grey rambled on, a sign of just how worried he was about his brother. Hopefully your tests would bear good news, and Styles could tease his Captain’s hypocrisy in no time.
“Haven’t said told you so yet.” Grey said it just barely above a hum, eyes fluttering shut as more sweat beaded on his forehead.
“I’ll say it later, for now you just-”
You were interrupted by a third round of retching and your heart ached at the little groan of pain that rolled out of his mouth at the end of it. Thankfully, your scans were finally done and a little bit of relief filled you.
“Alright, Grey, looks like you have a mild pulmonary infection, nothing too serious,” you smiled down at him then, “though it would have been better if you came here last night, you know, like I told you so.”
The smile he gave back was worn and tired, but no less genuine, “There it is, ’ll listen next time, mesh’la.” More coughs ended his bleary promise, but they were shallow and short this time.
You turned to the other medic, who was already going to the cabinet with the antibiotics in it, and told him exactly what you needed and in what doses. At the moment, you were mostly worried about breaking his fever, while it wasn’t life threateningly high, it was still on the dangerous side.
Then you turned to Styles, “Can you get a patient smock out of the wardrobe? I think he’ll be more comfortable in it than these sweaty blacks.”
Grey hummed loudly, drawing your attention back to him, “Doc, if ya wanted to get m’ clothes off, just had-” another cough, “-ask.”
You couldn’t help but roll your eyes a little, “Oh, Captain, you’re going to be very upset with your babbling once your fever’s broken.”
He shook his head just as his brother came back with the red two piece outfit. “I won't. Told you, wanted to say all this last night,” his mumbling was a little more clear this time, as if trying to make a point and you weren’t sure how to respond.
Thankfully, the younger medic came back with the needed fluids for the IV and said he would help Grey into the smock while you readied the medication. As the privacy curtain was pulled closed, you could have sworn you heard Styles whisper something about Gray wanting you to undress him instead, but you chose to ignore that as well.
They worked quickly, and the Captain’s treatment was ready by the time the curtain was pulled back. Grey was sitting up again and he stayed like that while you administered the IV. He took it like a champ, though he still looked quite dizzy the whole time he was sitting up.
“Alright, Grey, these fluids will help bring your fever down, and the antibiotics will start clearing up your lungs, I even put in a little something for the pain. We’ll have you feeling better in no time.”
“Hmm,” he cocked his head, “I feel better already,” he hummed as he watched you work, big brown eyes still looking tired. Then, he echoed a sentiment from earlier, “You’re too sweet when you fuss.”
Again you had to ignore the fact that the flirting, coming from him, made your face heat up. Grey kept his tired eyes on you, even as you motioned for him to lay down again.
“He’s going to be okay, right?” Styles asked in a quiet tone.
You smiled at him reassuringly, “It’ll take some time to clear up the infection, but he should be just fine, nothing our resources can’t handle. Though, I think you should send his helmet down to equipment maintenance, make sure the filters are working right.”
“On it!” He cast a look at his captain, “If you keep flirting with our favorite medic here, make sure you go all out, Cap,” he ended the statement with a wink before heading out of the room.
That made you laugh a little, feeling much more at ease now that your worry had calmed down. A quick look at the time told you that your shift had officially started, so you relieved your colleague, leaving you and Grey as the only ones left in the med center. You had thought that maybe he would fall asleep, but you still felt his eyes on you as you kept working.
Then, while you were typing up his medical chart, he whispered, “You wanna hear a secret, Doc?”
“What’s that, Grey?”
“If I wasn’t sick, I’d ask if it’s okay to kiss you.”
That made your eyes go wide and your fingers halted their tying on the datapad. You weren’t sure if it was his fever, the pain medicine, or a mixture of both making him even bolder than before, but this time, his comment was hard- or rather, impossible, to ignore. When you looked down at him over the pad, his eyes were fluttering again, the exhaustion of his fever and relief of the medicine kicking in making it harder to stay awake.
“Wanted…” he hummed, coughed once, then tried to look up at you only to close his eyes again. “...Have to get better at…flirting first…Then I’ll ask…”
Despite how easy it would be to pretend you didn’t hear or understand him, you found yourself answering him.
“Ask me when you’re healed up, Grey.”
You said it quietly, but there was an undeniable lift to the corner of his mouth before he finally drifted off to sleep.
Overall, you deeply disliked the way the troops were treated by the overseers of the GAR, but, one thing that you would give credit for, was that they actually provided their medical division with good supplies. Thanks to that, Grey was cleared of his illness quickly and didn't have any signs of lasting symptoms.
You wish you had been the one to give him his final check up and clear him for duty, but you weren’t. Instead you were stuck in a meeting that all head medics employed by the GAR had to sign into via holocomms.
Fortunately, it didn’t take long for him to seek you out.
Grey caught you late in the evening, a few hours after your meeting, standing in the hallway conversing with some of your newest staff. Respectful as always, he waited patiently for you to finish your talk, though your skin felt warm knowing his eyes were trained on you the whole time. Had he come to see you because of what you said about that kiss he seemed to want? No, no, he was half asleep, surely he was just there because he knew you wanted to see him all healed up.
Once the nurses finished with their last question and took their leave, you turned to the captain with a warm look. He looked as healthy as ever, skin his usual tanned tone, eyes bright, mind seeming alert and present.
“I see you’re back on your feet.”
“Thanks to you,” he said lightly as he took a few steps closer to you. He must have noted the late hour, because he asked, “Are you heading back to your quarters?” and when you nodded he seemed to straighten just a little, as if reading himself. “I’ll walk with you.”
“Alright,” you found your own tone a little teasing as you two started walking, “but if you start coughing again, you better listen to me when I tell you to go get it checked this time.”
He chuckled, “Don’t worry, cyare, I’ll make sure to listen to you next time.”
Again, he seemed to make your heart skip a beat with nothing but a simple endearment. At least you were able to compose yourself. “Good, I’m glad someone’s learning to listen to me around here.” Your tone had no bite to it, and you could tell Grey knew it with the way he flashed you a smirk.
Unlike the last time he had walked you to your door, you were much closer to your quarters this time and any conversation you two would have had couldn’t last long. You asked how he was feeling like any good friend would, and he told you he was fine, that you didn’t have to worry. He asked what your plans were when the ship landed on Coruscant and you were only half joking when you said “sleep”.
Then, just like the other night, when you two reached your door, he seemed to hesitate, something weighing on his mind. Except this time, he actually spoke up.
“So, I wanted to talk to you about something.” He looked over at you from the corners of his eyes and when you only looked back at him patiently, he went on. “I know I was feverish that first day in the med bay but…” he rolled his shoulders, “I heard what you said after I made that comment about wanting to kiss you.”
Your heart was suddenly acting as if it was competing in the galactic gymnastic championship, somersaulting in your chest and leaving a nervous heat to creep across your skin.
This time it was you who cleared your throat, “O-oh, you did?”
Finally, he turned his body to face you fully, his face set in determination. “Yeah, I did. And you should know that I might have rambled those things because I was sick, but I still meant every word of it.”
That caused your breath to hitch and you found yourself taking a step closer to him. “You did?”
At the soft, hopeful sound of your voice, his determined expression softened and now he was giving that cute, lopsided smile again. “I did. I really, really like you, have since the day you first stepped on board.” He let out a little laugh then, “I can’t even tell you how many times I’ve wanted to tell you that, or how many times I’ve wanted to ask to kiss you, but I’m not the best at flirting.”
“Oh I don’t know, you did alright the other day.”
That earned another small chuckle. You realized then that you were holding your breath, waiting for him to make good on what you said that day when you thought he was falling asleep.
It must have clicked for him too.
Grey’s eyes somehow softened more as he took another step closer and reached out his hand. Your breath hitched when his fingers gently brushed your cheek, then you held your breath altogether when his thumb ran over your bottom lip.
“Can I kiss you?”
The air held in your chest pushed out with a breathy, “Yes!”
And you saw his eye shining for only a moment before he leaned in and pressed his lips to yours. It was light at first, a nearly feather-light touch that nevertheless took your breath away again. Then, he was tilting his head and slipping the hand at your cheek to cup the back of your neck instead. It was all too gentle, even when he started moving his lips against yours in a way that told you just how much he had been craving this moment.
Who knew how long the kiss went on, all that mattered was that your head was spinning by the time you two finally parted.
“Wow.” Both of you said it at the same time, which made you both laugh together too.
“If it leads to moments like this, maybe I should land myself in the med bay more often,” he winked.
You groaned at the thought, “Oh, please don’t, my heart couldn’t take it!”
Grey was chuckling again and this time, he slipped his hand to your waist and pulled you even closer to him. When he spoke again, his tone was deep, yet playfully intimate. “Then I guess I’ll have to find other ways to make your heart race.”
And you knew he would make good on that promise too.
#rare clone fic exchange#rare clone fic submission#tcw grey#captain grey#tcw captain grey#tbb grey#tbb captain grey#tbb grey x reader#captain grey x reader#x reader#reader insert#gender neutral reader
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murders on the yangtze river spoilers:
This is the second, spoilery part of my year-end review of this game. If you want to play it, don't continue, because I'm going to spoil a lot of the culprits and stuff.
Number five amongst Knox's 10 Commandments of Detective Fiction is "No Chinaman must figure in the story". Which, like, sounds racist, right? People usually ignore this one. But the historical context for it is that, like... people kept writing mystery stories where the culprit was a Chinaman- you know, one of those shady cutthroat scam artists from foreign lands who can't be trusted. And in Knox's view, this was overdone and racist and embarrassing. And only slightly less overdone and racist and embarrassing was "have a sneaky Chinaman in your story as a fakeout culprit, who the reader expects to be the killer but actually he's not." No more! None of that! No Chinamen, period! Don't involve racist stereotypes in your story!
Murders on the Yangtze River, being a game set in China with a Chinese protagonist, can't exactly follow the letter of the law here, so obviously it gets a pass on that. But the spirit of the law, it flagrantly violates, to a humorous degree.
Thematically, MotYR is very strong. It has a core theme, which it revisits again and again and again. That core theme is: westerners are greedy exploitative scoundrels bent on China's economic ruin and must be driven out by good upstanding Chinese citizens working together.
There's seven westerners in the game:
Two of them are incompetent human obstacle London bobbies who look at the most suspicious crime scene in the universe and keep going "iunno, locked room, must be suicide" no matter how much evidence you present
One is a fraud chemist who falsifies quality control reports on Chinese steel to keep a steel mill buying expensive European raw materials when actually they have ingenious homegrown Chinese steel techniques that are better
One is the big bad, whose thing is a conspiracy to profit off the opium trade by secretly replacing it with anti-addiction drugs and coca-cola (with cocaine in it), and killed your brother to cover up the secret
One is the corrupt judge who tries to protect said big bad via the horribly unjust loophole known as "consular jurisdiction", preventing Chinese courts from passing their superior justice
The other two are this guy:
and his five-year-old daughter.
I took one look at this guy, and his black-and-red suit, and his intimate involvement in your brother's mysterious obviously-not-a-suicide, and his being presented as the protagonist's close friend and mentor who he trusts implicitly, and his being named Iscariot, and assumed "Oh. Okay. This guy is the big bad."
But he's not. It turns out he's called Iscariot because he's the only non-evil westerner in the entire game, and has a crisis of conscience because his dad is the big bad with the cocaine plan. The Iscariot is because he realizes westerners are evil and turns on his dad to help drive him and greedy exploitative western industry out of China, to atone for his sins.
As a white American, I don't think I've ever experienced this kind of... bad representation in fiction before? It's got a very different character from the self-effacing "lol white people suck" generally purveyed by white people. Like, wow! It's really racist! Being on the other side of that for once is kind of surreal!
The propaganda angle is more palatable to me than American propaganda, though. The thing it's doing is presenting like, logic and science and progress and truth as virtues of the Chinese national character, which must be upheld against reactionary forces and foreign enemies. It takes the piss out of superstitious religious tradition as much as it does those shady evil westerners. It's the kind of thing that might work on me, if I weren't in this weird position squarely in its sights.
It's a good game! But it's also a very interesting cultural product that conveys a view of the world I never had a great sense of from the inside. Kind of a fucked-up one! But worth checking out.
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Dancing in the Rain
Hi all! I'm back! This is a fluffy fic inspired by my first date with my dearly departed fiance. It went something similar to this, lol. Hope you enjoy! Happy reading!
Word count: 2,387
Warnings: None, other than tooth rotting fluff!
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Everything was perfect at last. Donatello took a step back to admire his hard work.
The rooftop looked gorgeous. The flames of the cream colored candles that were carefully placed around the roof swayed in a mesmerizing dance, red rose petals scattered about, his playlist of all your favorite love songs was waiting at his command to start playing.
The warm, romantic, glowing atmosphere he had meticulously put together was exactly what he wanted for your anniversary. You and Donnie had been dating for 1 year. 1 year 6 hours, 13 minutes, and 52 seconds exactly he mentally calculated. 1 year ago today he had asked you to be his girlfriend. He shuddered when he thought of how he had stumbled over his words, and his face felt like the surface of the sun that night. Not that he had become any better at expressing himself, but conversation had become much easier. Your interactions were no longer awkward, and stiff thankfully. They had become comfortable, almost instinctual.
He wanted this night to be special, you deserve nothing less than perfection. So he spent months collecting data on how to make this night something thus far you had only seen in your dreams.
Pride swelled in his chest as he looked over his handy work again. The sound of a door closing and light footsteps behind him brought Donnie out of his reverie. He couldn’t help but grin. Time to give you a night you would never forget. He quickly made his way over to the roof accessible stairway door to intercept you. His little surprise was set up on the opposite side of the roof, and he intended to keep it a surprise until he was ready.
“Good evening, my dear,” Donnie greeted you.
“Good evening, and happy anniversary,” you replied.
“Happy anniversary,” he said, handing you a large bouquet of your favorite flowers.
“Oh Dee, they’re beautiful, and my favorite color too! Thank you,” you said, breathing in the sweet smell,” They smell lovely.”
“I am thrilled you like them. However that is not the only thing I have in store for the evening,” he beamed at you.
“Is that so?” you asked, a smile gracing your lips.
“It is! Close your eyes,” Donnie instructed.
“Pray tell, how am I to see what your surprise is, or even reach it if my eyes are closed?” you challenged him playfully.
You squealed as your ever so chivalrous boyfriend scooped you up into his arms bridal style, before placing a kiss on your temple. You wrapped your arms around his neck, eyes going wide in surprise at the unexpected touch.
“Like this,” he whispered, his warm breath tickling your ear,” Close your eyes, love.”
You laughed and did as you were told, putting all your trust in Donatello not to accidentally drop you.
Ahhhh, that sweet, wonderful, laugh was music to his ears.
You rested your head against his plastron, relishing in the rare physical contact. Your genius didn’t often show his love for you through touch or words, but when he did you soaked it all in like a sponge. The patter of his feet suddenly stopped and he set you down gently. His hands shifted to your shoulders, and he moved to your side.
“You can open them now,” he muttered in your ear.
You once again obeyed, and were left breathless by the sight that met your eyes. You drank it in, the candles, the petals, the soft music playing in the background.
“What do you think?” He asked, the slightest bit anxious.
“Tello, I don’t know what to say. It’s beautiful,” you whispered, completely in awe,” You did all this just for me?’
“Of course. I wanted this to be perfect, like something straight out of your dreams,” Donnie replied.
“You certainly did not disappoint,” you cooed.
“Come on then. We both love to dance, I could not think of a better way to spend the night,” he grinned.
Donnie was nearly vibrating with giddiness as he led you over to his candle lit dance floor.
He took a moment to take in your appearance. You wore your favorite outfit, the one he knew made you feel confident and beautiful. This time though you donned his signature royal purple. It was a subtle detail but it still made his heart flutter that you would put thought into something on that small a scale, just for him. You were stunning.
“May I have the pleasure of this dance, my queen?” he asked, bowing deeply, while extending one hand to you.
“Of course, my king,” you giggled, accepting his hand, and giving a mock curtsey.
The familiar feeling of your hand in his made butterflies rise in your stomach, still after all this time. His free arm wrapped around your waist, and yours draped across his shoulders; pulling you together in the typical ballroom position.
You both drifted elegantly across the roof to the slow, romantic, violin music. The cool evening breeze blew through your hair, and your collective laughter filled the cloudy night sky. You danced together for what felt like hours, though in truth it was no more than 45 minutes. The conversation soon turned to the familiar playful jabs and light teasing you 2 were known for.
The witty banter between the 2 of you was something you both thoroughly enjoyed, he the stimulation you provided, and you the challenge he presented. You intrigued him, you always had. Though when you first met, Donnie saw you as an annoyance, a fascinating one, but an annoyance nonetheless. You had been an insufferable distraction introduced to his tediously created world by his brothers, and April. Slowly though his intrigue became fondness as he got to know you more deeply. And fondness became affection. While he did not understand these feelings, and they scared him, he wanted nothing more than to explore them with you.
You had been determined from the word go to charm your way past Donnie’s defenses. He was like no one you had ever met, and you wanted to see who he truly was behind his emotionally unavailable bad boy image he so flawlessly maintained.
Never in your wildest dreams had you imagined falling for him, and he doing the same for you.
Donnie was your biggest crush, your first love, and first serious boyfriend. Sure you had dated a couple guys in your highschool years so far, but none of them gave you butterflies the way Donnie did.
You could only hope that ridiculous saying wasn’t true, and that some things would last forever.
So caught up in your own private piece of heaven you both failed to notice how the air had grown heavy, and the wind had picked up. A sudden drop of water landing rather unceremoniously on your nose startled you both. Another landed on Donatello. Another fell on the wick of one of the candles, extinguishing the flame with a sizzle. And then another fell, and another, and another, and another until the sky let loose a torrential downpour.
No! It wasn’t supposed to rain for several more hours! Donnie had planned for you both to be back at your respective homes long before it started. He had planned all this, calculated it down to the second. How could he have screwed it up so badly?!
He scurried over to the stairwell access, flinging the door open, and stepping inside to hide from the obnoxiously large droplets. He looked out over the rooftop, feeling utterly gutted as the music came to an abrupt halt. His surprise for you was ruined. You would surely be disappointed.
Only you didn’t seem disappointed at all. You stood smiling, laughing, as the last of the orange candle light flickered out, surrounded by the water. You hadn’t run to find shelter like he had. No, instead you twirled about in the rain, its drumming sound the beat you followed and swayed to.
“Tello! Come dance with me!” You called, a smile so vibrant on your lips it could light up the entire city.
“In the rain?” His absolutely astonished voice rang across the roof, slightly higher in pitch than normal.
“In the rain!” You beamed at him, holding out a hand.
Your hair was a dripping wet mess, your clothes clung to you in a way that would surely be uncomfortable later, and droplets of the cool liquid rolled off your face. Yet Donnie thought you couldn’t look more beautiful. Well, if a dance in the rain was what his queen desired, who was he to deny her that wish?
A grin spread across his face as he stepped out of his safe haven, shivering a bit as the cold rain hit his skin, and made his way to you. He grasped your hand tightly, and spun you into him. Your eyes widened and a laugh escaped your lips as he did.
“As you wish, my dear,” he grinned down at you, admiration and devotion shining in his eyes,” Play All of Me by John Legend.”
The song began to play softly in the background as you swayed with each other. The city's lights glittered around you both like a thousand diamonds, though its beauty could not compare to you in the slightest in his heart.
You pulled a strand of hair away from where it was clinging to your jaw, and giggled. Slightly embarrassed you tilted your face downwards, jeez, what was your boyfriend going to think of your appearance?
“I’m sure I look like a drowned rat,” you smiled, flinging the invading strand over your shoulder.
“Trust me, you are much prettier than Papa after being the unfortunate victim of one of Mikey’s water balloon attacks,” Donnie joked, lifting your chin so your eyes met his.
“Awww, Dee I’m flattered! You really think I’m pretty?” a mischievous grin creeping onto your lips.
“You look perfect,” Donnie mumbled under his breath.
“You’re pretty handsome yourself, Donatello,” you cooed.
“You heard that?!” Donnie nearly shrieked, his cheeks flushing in horror,” I didn’t mean for you to hear…”
This time it was his turn to bow his head in utter humiliation. You sighed and gently shook your head at him. Smiling lovingly, your boyfriend was the most adorable thing in the world to you. It wasn’t often he became flustered, and you took great pride in being one of the few people who could elicit this kind of reaction from him. You slowly moved your hands to rest on either side of his face, careful not to startle the purple clad turtle, and gently pulled his face up so he was looking you in the eyes.
“Donnie, you don’t have to pretend your feelings don’t exist, or bury them so deep they will never see the light of day. I know you aren’t good with expressing your emotions, but I need you to know the last thing I want you to do is hide yourself from me. This is a safe space, so when you’re ready please share what you’re thinking and feeling. No judgment here, I promise. Please don’t be ashamed. Just like the song says, ‘All of me loves all of you. All your perfect imperfections. Give your all to me, I’ll give my all to you.’ We’re a team, darling. You and me forever, so please stop hiding yourself from me,” your eyes looked deep into his.
He searched them for a moment. You kept those beautiful irises soft, like an open book, just for him. Adoration and tenderness swirled in them, adoration and tenderness you only held for him.
He sighed and smiled softly, lovingly, in a way only you could make him smile.
“Being in love with you is the most natural thing in the world, it’s like breathing. And you, you loved me even when I could not love myself. You showed me what romantic love truly is. And for that I shall be forever grateful, my dear. These things I feel for you are….terrifying, but I cannot think of anyone I would rather feel them for. I trust you, feel completely safe with you. And just when I think these feelings cannot run any deeper, they do. I’ve neve felt so……captivated by someone before. I have cherished every moment of the last year. I - I want to spend the rest of my life with you,” he paused before taking a deep breath, his arms wrapping around your waist a little tighter, and his face inched closer to yours,” And I….I love you, Y/N.”
Your breath caught in your throat. He had never opened up this much when it came to his feelings for you. This was the first time he said he loved you.
“I love you too,” you whispered back, your lips brushing against his.
Donnie suddenly closed the distance between the 2 of you, his lips pressed against yours, and a 3 fingered hand tangling itself in the wet strands of your hair. Fireworks went off in your mind, and your heart felt as though it was going to explode. Eyes wide, you stood frozen for a moment before melting into his touch. This was everything you could have ever dreamed of for your first kiss. For a time, everything was perfect. Pure unadulterated ecstasy ran through your veins as you relished in the soft touch of his lips on yours. The kiss seemed to last forever and you were both disappointed when you had to break apart for air as your lungs began to burn.
Neither of you could seem to find your words after you parted, so you settled for simply wrapping your arms around him, and burying your face in the crook of his neck as you both began to gently sway again. All of Me was still softly playing in the background. You knew from now one you would always associate tonight with the tune, and more than likely it would be deemed your song. It was perfect, the lyrics fit your relationship so well. All of this was magical.
Well, if Donnie wanted to give you a fairytale evening, he had absolutely succeeded. This was better than anything you could have dreamed of, and you would be dreaming of it for the rest of your life.
#rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles#rise!donnie x reader#save rise of the tmnt#rise of the tmnt#rise donnie#fluff#dancing in the rain
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