#jayce header | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

fulcrvm · 9 days ago

Text

flow sweetly, hang heavy (you suddenly complete me) —

Afterwards, it's quiet. Jayce and Viktor find themselves out of time, and find shelter and warmth with each other.

(or, Jayce is emotional and gets very sappy (and very horny) about Viktor's new, cosmic-sized Herald body).

— — — — —

It's quiet, after.

The moment of joining—when Jayce had clasped Viktor's fist in his hands, when Viktor had finally met his gaze and the fact that he was not in this alone dawned upon him, when their arms looped around one another brought them together—was a crescendo of every voice in Piltover, in Zaun, under the Herald's control. The panicked and overwhelmingly bright harmony of screaming was the scenery behind Jayce's declaration of devotion, and Viktor met him in the middle.

And when it was over, every sound and sensation melted away. Except for Viktor's thumb, running soothingly, up, down, up, down Jayce's arm where it looped around his partner's neck.

I love you, Jayce had thought in the moment, and still thinks like a tape on loop, as if Viktor could hear it vibrate through his bones from where their skulls meet.

If he presses close enough, Jayce can hear it back. I love you.

They remain tangled together, bodies of light pressed so close they were nearly one whole, steadied by Viktor's thumb. Until Jayce feels something soft kiss his cheek, feels the other side of his face lean into frigid ground, the skin of his face going numb. He shivers.

The fist within his hand pulses, "Jayce..."

His tongue is stuck to the roof of his mouth, Jayce feels his throat rapidly going dry. The numb side of his face seems to be getting increasingly wet at a concerning rate. He shivers again, barely able to crack his chapped lips open, "Cold, Vik—"

"I have you," the arms around him immediately shift to cradle Jayce closer, lurching them up into a seating position, "I have you." Jayce trusts him, and slowly his senses start to come back. He is draped with something soft, warm, and being clutched closer to the other body—Viktor—but no heat comes from it. He feels himself lifted up, off the ground, and he hears—"I have you, stay with me," coming distorted. Metallic.

Jayce pries his eyes open.

The snow is a blinding white, he feels the muscles behind his eyes twinge at the light flooding in. The flurry is gentle but the sky beyond it is grey and heavy with the promise of a storm. He hears the steady, crunching march of steps in the snow below him (much below him, how is he so high up?) followed by the drag and stab of the gnarled staff, and he feels the tickle of the blanket wrapped around him at his chin. Navy fibers with frayed red visible underneath, Jayce trembles into it again. And then he looks up.

It is meant to strike fear, Jayce knows this, as he feels his heart stutter when he sees the planes of unearthly metal glint against the sky above him. It is human nature to be afraid.

The Machine Herald holds him tightly yet gently to his chest, pushing through knee deep snow, and stares unblinkingly ahead.

"I can feel your pulse," the mouth split on either side of the Herald's faceplate remains unmoving. The voice echoes within Jayce's head unnaturally, as he continues, "I. Understand your apprehension towards this form. Especially after everything. But I will remind you, Jayce, that my original body has been long dead and this is what I have left. And I must get you to shelter. We may discuss what I am once you are safe."

Jayce... doesn't feel afraid. He shudders closer, and lets his eyes fall shut. You're alive. I love you. You're alive.

*****

He rouses to the sound of Viktor saying his name. It always sounded so right in his voice, like it was given to Jayce just to sit on his partner's tongue. He loves the inflection of it, giving it a meaning he feels like he lacked before Viktor gave it to him.

"Jayce!" Too-strong hands shake him awake fully, "You must stay awake for me. Please."

"Mmmhhh," Jayce says, coherently. He blinks snowflakes out of his lashes. He finds himself sat on the snow-covered ground, leaning back on a low stone wall. In front of him, the Herald is crouched down awkwardly, gangly knees reaching past his shoulders in this position. Jayce's eyes widen, he clutches the blanket around him, "You’re really—Are we...?"

Viktor raises his head to scan the view behind the wall, "We are perhaps about a kilometer out from a village. Rural, small, but there is smoke from some buildings. We may be able to find warmth for you there."

"And you." Jayce adds, almost bashfully. "For you, too." Viktor peers down through the Herald's glowing eyes cautiously, and Jayce reaches for his hand where it rests in the snow, where it's poised like a wolf's.

Viktor flexes his hand in Jayce's—it’s so large now that Jayce needs both hands to cup them together. "I will scare away the villagers in this form. They will not see to you, then."

"You’re beautiful," Jayce says simply.

"You seem to be alone in thinking so. I was either a weapon or a monster to everyone else."

"Why does it matter what anyone else thinks?" Jayce retorts somewhat petulantly. He grasps Viktor's hands tighter, feeling the way the newly metallic sinew of his hand shift under the pressure. "You're beautiful."

There is a pulse of purple under the surface of the Herald's skin at the words. He hums, so deep Jayce can feel it reverberate in his ribcage, and leans in, and in, slowly. He rests his forehead on Jayce's once again, Jayce's hands unconsciously find purchase on the horns of the Herald's gold crown, fingers brushing into the limp hair behind it. Viktor speaks, "To aid you, I will attempt something."

Viktor gently removes Jayce's hands from his head, and bristles like a cat. With a shake and a shiver down his spine, he glows purple and his body... seems to close inward, like two panels of fabric being sewn taut together. Jayce blinks and Viktor, the Viktor he lost, is before him for a split second, before his form splits red down the centre. Jayce flinches at the glare.

"There," Viktor sighs, voice still dissonant with a metallic tinge. "Human... passing." The illusion of his Hexcore-tainted human body appears nearly as he was when he was killed at Jayce's hands, save for being completely bare and for the violent red scar that cracks down the center of Viktor's face.

A sob wrenches itself from Jayce's throat, pushing himself off the wall to barrel Viktor into a hug. Viktor's arms come around him, and under the glamour, Jayce can feel the Herald's true and rangy limbs where they meet his body. He shudders into the crook of Viktor's neck again, "Hahh... Tell me you're going to be okay."

Viktor doesn't speak immediately, just runs his fingers through the length of Jayce's hair. "We will be once we get to the village."

The chill of the snow reaches them again at the words. Jayce sits up, shrugging off the blanket to drape it over Viktor's shoulders again, like this is exactly what the blanket was made for, like this is exactly what Jayce meant to do. It's only then Jayce notices that he's still wearing the tatters of his white coat, some of the leather buckles half ripped off and a massive chunk taken out of the gold of his pauldron. With a pained grunt, he rips off one of the loose buckles of the pauldron and uses it to fasten the blanket at Viktor's neck, "There."

Viktor's smiles were always faint, just the slightest quirk of his lips, but now it seemed as blazing as the sun. He shifts his staff to stand and holds an arm out to Jayce, "We will be okay."

*****

The innkeep's wife welcomes them with open arms in the inn that sits in the center of the village, most likely based on their appearance of being two worn-out men (one at least half-passed out) without proper clothing for the weather. Translation of Viktor's weak request for a room takes a while, only his vigorous nodding when she asks, "Lot? Pryue chaumbre?" seems to get the point across. The inn itself is cozy, with plenty of rooms available due to no one coming through the village during the season (as inferred based on the woman's gesticulation).

They get the inn's best private chamber, in which Viktor deposits Jayce directly onto the bed once the innkeep's wife shuts the door behind her. Jayce whimpers, reaching to paw at his braced leg.

Viktor immediately swaddles his upper body with the bed's worn coverles, "Let me look at your brace, Jayce. What happened?" He kneels, hovering his fingers over the rough form of the brace around his thigh.

Grunting, Jayce sits up, "You saw my memories, and your older self. You know."

Viktor's lovely mouth purses. "I did. Tell me anyway?"

"My hammer, it smashed my leg as I fell into the chasm part of elder you's trial." Jayce says, "I was... well, I remembered how I'd help you in repairing your own brace, and after a while—infection and general misuse—I dismantled the hammer to build a brace for myself. So I could climb out of the chasm. After I was sent to your commune..." Jayce grimaces, and Viktor draws a gentle finger up along his cheekbone to wipe at tear tracks he hadn't even noticed. "Well. After I returned to Piltover, I had some time to visit the lab. Repair the brace. It's crude, I know. I didn't have time to check what exactly I broke, all I was thinking about was..." He looks at Viktor mournfully under his lashes. "In your new body—is the Hexcore...?"

"Severed," Viktor says, "Still present but seemingly unable to influence my actions, I swear it. It is... angry with us."

Jayce laughs wetly. "So, where are we then?"

Viktor rises, turning to the window frame where the snow has picked up and the clouds grow darker and darker by the minute. He pulls the thin curtain over the open window, "I would guess, still Piltover."

"Really?"

"Geographically, yes. Same cliffs, same sea. But based on the village, the language," Viktor seats himself next to Jayce on the bed, "I would place us maybe six or so centuries before our time."

"Fuck," Jayce sobs, tears flowing freely now, "So, we're, guh—"

Viktor shushes him gently, holding Jayce's head close to his glamoured chest. Jayce isn't even sure what he's upset about. The events of the past few months rush up to him, noises caught in his throat and barely able to wheeze out my mother, Cait, Vi, Mel, oh gods, Heimer and Ekko? Did we even do it—?

At the end of it, Jayce brings his quaking hands up to frame Viktor's face, fingers and eyes tracing the length of the violently red scar down the centre of Viktor's disguised face. "Show yourself, Viktor? I need to see you, plu-ease, need to see you're okay, Vi-hik, ah," he hiccups.

Jayce doesn't take it personally that Viktor doesn't hesitate to tear the glamour away, the scar splitting down the middle and tearing away to allow the Herald to rise to his true height around Jayce. He sighs and shuffles himself ungracefully into Viktor's narrow lap, "I missed you, I mi-hissed you." He brings his hands back up to trace the contours of Viktor's faceplate, up the crown-horns, looking up at him with teary eyes, "Thank you. For coming back to me."

Viktor leans down, ribs pulsing purple light and humming something deep and rolling. "Thank you, for staying with me. For seeing me."

"I should have listened to you," Jayce whispers, tucking himself into Viktor's neck. He watches his own tears drop onto the smooth surface of Viktor's skin and track down into the hollow of his clavicle. Jayce's buckle didn't hold the blanket in place around his body through the transformation, now the buckle sits snapped off on the floor somewhere and the red and navy blanket pools around Viktor's hips. "Should’ve not gotten involved in the politics. I don't know. I don't know."

Viktor combs his fingers through Jayce's hair, palm big enough to cradle his whole skull.

"But now you know," Jayce pulls back suddenly, drawing his hands around Viktor's slight waist. "That I—how I feel about you."

The rumbling in Viktor's chest seems to get louder, "I. Feel the same, Jayce. Have felt so for you for quite a while. To be cared for at such a level in return, I, eh, could not have imagined." He seems to fumble over his thoughts for a second, “Though, I guess I didn’t need to imagine. Your affection was always there. I just never truly… saw.” Jayce feels a twinge in the back of his head, thinking of how easily the Hexcore seemed to have seen this.

Jayce laughs, one he hopes doesn't sound as self-deprecating as it feels to himself, "I wonder how different things would be now if I had been less anxious to tell you then." He draws his hand up Viktor's side to trace the golden remnants of his brace, "Plus, look at you. You're incredible. You're alive."

He shudders when he feels Viktor's hands alight high up on his shoulders, thumbs tracing his jawline. "You flatter me too much, Jayce," Viktor hums, "Look at you, hm? I told you a beard would suit you."

His thumbs trace, up, down, up, down, along Jayce's jaw and Jayce feels his mouth part unwittingly. "Viktor, I, ah," He pants, oh gods, why is he panting? He has so much left to say to his partner, so much yet to figure out about the time they've been thrown into, but all of it becomes secondary when he feels Viktor's fingers at his neck—"Please, Vik, I wish I could kiss you."

Viktor leans in, and in, and over him until Jayce is flat on the bed, the swaddle of coverles now open beneath him. His breath comes short, and he's extremely aware of how sweaty he is as Viktor peers at him with unblinking yellow eye-lights. "Is that," Jayce swallows, fingers still following the golden tracery at his chest, "okay?"

The bed creaks under them as Viktor shifts his weight. "It is impossible to count how many things I have wanted to do to you," He rasps, "Impulses I forced myself to not act upon because I knew how anxious you would be if you did not ask me yourself first." The flat plane of the Herald's face is warm from body heat where it tucks to the side of Jayce's head, but Jayce shivers with it anyway. Viktor reaches over each of his arms in tandem, unbuckling the fastens of his coat and pauldrons as he moves. "It is more than okay, Jayce. In fact, I may, eh, encourage those thoughts."

With a thunk, the pauldrons fall to the ground off the side of the bed and Viktor pulls Jayce up to get the coat off of Jayce's shoulders. Viktor hums, "But let us get you warm first. I will not have you die of hypothermia after I just got you back."

Jayce wipes the dried tear tracks with a sniffle, "That's funny, second time you've done that for me."

Viktor laughs, a low, resounding hum. He peels off the snow-wet layers of all of Jayce's clothes, and steps off the bed to remove his boots. He kneels, saying, "You must tell me if anything I do pains you." Jayce nods, and Viktor begins taking apart the haphazard brace from his leg.

There's a split second thought where Jayce nearly believes Viktor was going to attempt to heal his leg, where Jayce would have interjected and asked him to stop, but the moment never comes.

It's reverent, the silence that Viktor allows the space for as he works his hands down the mechanism of Jayce's leg. The brace comes off, Viktor pulls off Jayce's boots one by one and holds his feet at the arch gently. Viktor takes off Jayce's trousers, then his pants, and places them to the side to dry.

Now fully stripped bare, Jayce doesn't even have a second to shiver before Viktor is kneeling into the bed behind him and pulling up the navy and red blanket around the both of them, under the coverles. Jayce sighs. It's comfortable, Viktor's spindly arms coming around him.

The metal musculature behind him grows warm, and despite Viktor's slight form, Jayce feels enveloped. Held so wholly that he imagines, briefly, that nothing else exists outside of Viktor's body. Nothing else needs to.

Jayce wonders if, in the astral plane, he could curl up under Viktor's celestial sternum and be kept there. The Herald is certainly big enough for him to do so if he asked, surely Viktor and he could find a way to accommodate together.

Viktor draws his fingers through the new hairs coming through on Jayce's stomach (up, down, up, down). He doesn't say anything, but Jayce can feel, from where his vertebrae meet Viktor's faux-ribs, that he's concerned about how much weight has fallen off of Jayce's form, how prominent his bony protuberances are now. He interlocks his fingers with Viktor in response.

Instead, Viktor says, "The hair is a wonderful surprise. I like it."

Jayce chuckles, "Well, I think I missed a waxing appointment or two thanks to your glorious plans. So you only have yourself to thank."

"Hmm, thank you, past Viktor," He says, cuddling closer. "Are you comfortable?" His hands keep roaming across Jayce's body, causing him to shiver further into Viktor's form. Jayce hums an affirmative in response. "Good," Viktor massages his hands at the prominence of Jayce's hip bones, "Now, rest. I have you."

Jayce feels himself fade away to the low rumble emanating from Viktor's chest.

*****

There are hands framing Jayce's face when he feels his consciousness link into the astral plane. It seems like a place that should be free from the confines of temperature, of sensory description, but all Jayce feels is warm. And loved.

The hands shift, and Jayce feels something light along his forehead. Lips, and a laugh. "You squirm when you're feigning sleep. I know this well enough by now, thanks to our late lab nights," Viktor's voice comes to him, echoing but true, real.

"Viktor," Jayce whispers, hands automatically coming up to him as he opens his eyes. There he is, smiling and eyes golden, skin brilliant between where his hair and his torso blend into the negative space around them. Jayce feels immediately overwhelmed—he has his partner back. Jayce runs his knuckles over Viktor's cheek, pausing to caress the mole there, "Viktor."

There is no up or down here, but Viktor leans down over Jayce's supine body. And with Jayce so caught in how beautiful his partner is, he's startled out of his reverie at Viktor's lips meeting his.

Jayce feels himself open up under Viktor instinctively. The wet heat of Viktor's mouth has him moaning, the part of his mind wondering how he can even feel these sensations being pushed away for the time being.

Viktor's hand slides down to cup the underside of his jaw, thumb dancing over his neck, "Hm, Jayce, I think perhaps you were made for me like this."

"Yeah?" Jayce barely responds before Viktor grabs under his jaw, fingers pressing hard on his masseter muscles on one side and his thumb on the other, mouth opening with no resistance. Jayce groans as Viktor invades his mouth again strategically. Heat rolls through his body, pooling low in his stomach.

It's heady, the feeling of Viktor laying himself over Jayce, who can only whine with how Viktor's other hand skates over his torso.

"Szczeniaczku, tell me what you want," Viktor says, biting the shell of Jayce's ear, "or I'll put your mouth to other uses."

Jayce whimpers, hands threading in the cloud of Viktor's hair, to press their foreheads together, "Hahh, I want—I—"

Empty, Jayce feels so, so empty, and he was to be closer, as close as he possibly can to Viktor, wants to be filled, and fucked, and wants Viktor to be pleased with him, and pleasured. By Jayce, only Jayce, and with Jayce.

But, simmering at the surface above all of that, Jayce feels an urgent need to move, a wet, grasping need to rut and cry, with Viktor. Always for Viktor.

An image of the Machine Herald appears unbidden in Jayce's mind, and he can feel himself clench instinctively.

"I see," Viktor says, with only a hint of deviousness in his voice. Jayce sees his golden eyes twinkle with a plan, can practically hear his partner's mind calculating behind them. Viktor hums, dragging his fingers to trace along Jayce's iliac crest, the bone deep within the swirling negative space of their bodies. "You know, I quite like the look of my fingerprints here."

Jayce swears he can feel his pulse in his cock when he sees the glowing fingerprints Viktor means at his hips—from where he's being held in the mortal plane, by the Herald's hands. He whines, feeling his legs part at the thought—Viktor, behind him—

"You do, too, don't you?" Viktor laughs. Not cruelly, no, never. With delight, at the discovery that the two of them have even more shared interests than expected. "But that is for a different time. For now, I know what you need."

When Viktor's kisses start moving lower and lower down Jayce's torso, and his hands comb through where the thatch of hair would be low on his stomach, Jayce feels the cosmos around him shift. He gasps, and gravity pulls him down—

Jayce feels himself fall, pulled forward by his stronger leg and pushed back suddenly, onto a soft surface. He sits up to catch his breath, chest already heaving. Briefly he wonders if his penchant for, uh, being manhandled had been this easily noticeable before this, before Jayce remembers: they're in each other’s heads. They've been in there, made their homes there now. And it's a potent feeling, Jayce can feel the rush to his head and the dampness between his legs acutely.

He blinks as he shifts up. The kaleidoscope of space swirls through his vision, Viktor seemingly nowhere to be seen.

Then, the clouds of stars part, and the Machine Herald looms over him. Looms, truly.

If Jayce, breath caught in his throat, could form any coherent thought in the moment, it would be that Viktor's faceplate by itself was just taller than his entire body. Jayce quivers with it.

“Hi,” he says.

“Hello, Jayce,” The Herald is no longer as Jayce last saw it, Hexcore-controlled with a face drenched in red and body a swirling abyss that seemed to be cut away from the light surrounding it. Now, Viktor is somehow even more radiant than before—he’s watercolor, teals bleeding into lavenders, a warm undertone beneath the silver that casts him in a stark chiaroscuro. The harsh lines of the Herald’s form draw Jayce’s eyes to his, still golden, and across the halved features beside the faceplate. Viktor’s vestigial lips seem to smile down at him. “You seem to be enjoying this. All this flattery will go straight to my head, you know.”

Every logical, normal response to your partner teasing you have completely abandoned Jayce in the moment. He swallows, “Hi.” Viktor laughs lightly. With the movement, Jayce can feel the surface under him shake. Startled, he looks down with wide eyes. Its twisted and tangled violet sinew and ligament line the surface, muscle turned metal, dotted with small wedges of gold. He’s on Viktor’s hand.

There’s barely enough space on his palm for Jayce’s seated figure, with Viktor’s fingers curled up behind him, Jayce realises he’s just short of their height too. He looks back up at Viktor in awe, and has the fleeting thought that this, too, once might have been meant to strike fear.

Viktor strokes the pads of his fingers down Jayce's cheek to his chest delicately, so gently, as if he was a butterfly's wing under inspection. Each distal phalange must be as tall as Jayce’s head, he thinks in waves of shock and arousal. The cold, metal fingertips catch on Jayce's nipples in turn, he writhes at the touch. His hands slip over the surface of Viktor's palm for something to grasp onto, landing in the shallow spaces between the metallic tendon, where the remnants of Viktor's lumbrical muscles remain.

Jayce fists the tendons as he pants, and Viktor chuckles. He slowly traces one finger down, down, where Jayce's uninjured leg meets his torso, then up to his knee, spreading him further. Then, again, with his injured leg. Tenderly, Viktor parts Jayce's legs.

"There, look at you," Viktor breathes, leaning closer. He brings up his knuckle to run it down Jayce's thigh, pausing at the tendinous hollow before reaching the pelvic bone. Jayce throbs.

"Look at you," Viktor says again, almost to himself. "You're soaked for me already."

His knuckle runs along Jayce's lips, and he's right, Jayce hadn't even realised how wet he already was in anticipation. He has to fight to keep still, clutching at the tendons and allowing a high pitched moan to escape him, when Viktor pushes forward, past his lips.

Then Viktor drags his knuckle up and Jayce yells, full throated, with a full body quiver, as it catches on his cock. Pleasure lances through him, "Fuck! Fuck, Viktor—"

Viktor moves his hand away, "Show me."

Jayce whimpers.

"Show me what I know you need," Viktor orders. "You're so wound up, Jayce. Take what you need."

Immediately, Jayce scrambles forward, afraid to look away from Viktor's face, the severe contours of it as captivating as the first time. Viktor has always been beautiful. Jayce has always thought so, but there is something about the Herald's body that makes Jayce feel base. Makes him feel singular. Small, but not trivial. Small, like a cog. A ticking, moving part of a whole. A part of Viktor.

Jayce finds purchase on his hands and knees, facing up towards Viktor. He's splayed out, almost supplicant. Viktor tilts his head, and Jayce allows his hips to stutter forward. The seam of his cunt meets with the line of Viktor's tendons, and Jayce throws his head back. If he grinds forward just so, his cock gets the pressure it needs to send sparks down his spine.

He rocks hard, harder, on Viktor's palm, never looking away from Viktor's eyes. The metal grows wet, blood-warm beneath his thighs, and Jayce swears he can feel a pulse meeting his somewhere underneath him.

Jayce ruts, letting his jaw drop, clenching and unclenching his hands around Viktor's sinew. He wonders what's underneath it. Beyond the metal. Is there still flesh to Viktor? Or is it all preternatural alloy and residual Hexcore scraps in place of viscera? Does a heart still beat on its own? Or does the mannequin simply echo what its unwilling creator feels towards it?

He moans, long and breathy. "Viktor, Viktor, I'm, I‐hahh," Jayce can't think of anything else. Just: Viktor, Viktor, Viktor, I love you, I love you, can you hear me?

Viktor makes a choked noise. Jayce frots, tendons drenched under him, dragging along his cunt until it starts to ache, and his cock pulses from the lack of any direct attention. He gazes blearily at Viktor’s face hovering over him, leaning so close it takes up his entire field of vision. (Jayce wonders if the Herald needs to breathe.) Closer—

“Closer,” Jayce shakes like a leaf, hips slowing jerkily, “V, I want to be closer—AH—”

Viktor pushes his finger against Jayce’s cock, and Jayce spasms, moaning. So close, but not quite enough. In his daze, he feels Viktor shift his body—there is no direction but he is moved down, down, down, until Jayce feels his knees meet a flat surface.

“Let me feel you,” Viktor’s voice booms, rattling through Jayce’s bones and making his cock throb. Jayce looks down. The flat of Viktor’s face is so smooth, almost silky, underneath his body. When he shifts, Jayce feels his feet slip off the raised edge of Viktor’s face, his partner’s hands coming up to help him balance as a precaution. Jayce feels dizzy looking into Viktor’s eyes, their harsh light clearing his mind of any thought at all.

Jayce’s hips rock forwards in the empty air instinctively, a sob escaping him. “Viktor, you’re too flat for me to—,” Jayce huffs a laugh, still trying to grind forward anyway.

“Oh, is Jayce Talis, innovator extraordinaire, about to say he can’t do something?” Viktor laughs, vibration shaking through Jayce who first moans as it pulses through his cock, then laughs too.

“Fine, fine,” He smiles with a lighthearted eye roll, leaning over properly. Spreading his knees apart, Jayce reaches under him to finally stroke his cock between two fingers. The relief is immediate and has him sighing. Jayce circles his fingers again, again, leaning down to press his face against Viktor’s faceplate. His breath fogs the metal under him in swirls, he distantly wonders how much Viktor can feel through their real-world mental link. If he slips his fingers lower to trace around the edge of himself, would Viktor feel it like it was his own hand? Suddenly Jayce is overcome with the slightly cruel urge to continue to tease, leaving himself wound up and hanging at the edge just to see what Viktor would do.

What Viktor does do is growl in warning, “Jayce, you seem to exist just to push me.”

Jayce rocks into the heel of his hand particularly harshly, “Would you like me to, hahh, pull you instead?”

There’s no verbal response—Jayce feels two fingers curl under his bad knee and feels Viktor’s other hand rub along his cunt from the back. Jayce whines as Viktor pushes against his cock with one finger (down, up, down, up) with enough space for him to grind back to meet Viktor’s motions. The shudder down Jayce’s spine is intense when he feels Viktor drag his finger through his cunt to collect his wetness to smooth the way when giving his attentions to Jayce’s cock. Viktor pushes, faster, harder, and Jayce is panting, with nothing to grasp onto on Viktor’s face, “V, please, please, Viktor, I wa-ah-nt to come—”

“Then, come for me, szczeniaczku,” Viktor says with a finalizing stroke, and Jayce howls against the metal, feeling the wet rush roll through him violently.

Jayce wakes, shaking through the aftershocks of his orgasm, to Viktor shushing him softly, Viktor’s fingers smoothing down his body under the huddle of blankets. Jayce rocks desperately back into Viktor’s lean hips, “I need you, now, V, please.”

Viktor’s arms are immediately around him, one around his chest and other snaking between his thighs. The relief of feeling Viktor’s bed-warm, normal-big hands on his body is immediate, Jayce sighs into the sensation of Viktor rubbing his cock with urgency. “In me, Vik,” Jayce manages to groan, “Inside.”

He doesn’t need to say anything else, Viktor slips two slim fingers into his cunt with no resistance. In the stillness of the inn bedroom, Jayce is hyper aware of each broken noise escaping him with every thrust of Viktor’s fingers, every tight circle of his own hips. He’s already close again, he can feel it like there's light trying to claw out from under his sternum. Viktor’s arm tightens around his chest, and Jayce can feel him add another finger, pushing deep, deeper, within him.

Then, Viktor curls his fingers within him and rubs his thumb over his cock and Jayce is gone. Gasping and quivering, Jayce feels hot ice shoot through his body where Viktor’s fingers reach into him, like he’s grabbing Jayce’s very heart in his chest. Jayce comes with his thighs quaking and ribs so full of something bright and blinding that it drowns out all of his other senses. If he screams, he can’t hear it.

It takes a moment for Jayce to register his senses coming back. He feels Viktor’s metal thumb, running soothingly, up, down, up, down Jayce's arm where they’re both looped low around his waist. There’s a slight twinge just below his knee on his bad leg, and his momentary squirming causes Viktor to lean over his shoulder. “Alright, Jayce?”

“Mhm, just sticky,” Jayce grins softly. He turns around in the circle of their arms, hoping to disguise his wince at his leg with a chuckle. He runs his knuckles down the flat planes of Viktor’s abdomen, “Let me take care of you too, please, V?”

Viktor rumbles again, deep within his golden ribs, and laces his fingers with Jayce’s. “You’ll find no need to,” He says, bringing their joined hands lower, running along the metallic adductor muscles of his inner thigh. He lets Jayce’s fingers trace the seam of an almost imperceptible slit just above there, and Jayce’s fingers come away sticky. He holds his fingers up to the light of the room—the slick is almost iridescent, shimmering as it drips down his hand.

“You really—?”

“After all that, do you really still doubt my feelings for you?” Viktor hums.

Jayce shrugs. Curiosity gets the best of him, Jayce licks his fingertips, not allowing himself to meet Viktor’s golden stare. Viktor’s come is oddly sweet but makes his tongue feel a bit numb, like what Jayce imagines chewing a Hexgem would do to the inside of your mouth. He must make a face at the taste because Viktor huffs another one of his sweet, mechanical laughs and hugs them tighter together.

It's quiet, after. A heavy quietness that Jayce can’t quite place the feeling of just yet.

Viktor’s hand comes up to cradle the back of Jayce’s head, holding his skull like it’s made of something delicate. Like pressing his faux-carpals alone Jayce’s occipital bone will allow their thoughts to flow from bone to bone. Jayce swirls the thought in his mind anyway, I do love you. I think I could love you if you let me.

But that’s alright, he thinks as he watches the snow accumulate on the window frame over Viktor’s narrow shoulder, if anything at all, they have time to figure it out. Six hundred years’ worth, if they do it right. So, Jayce lets it be quiet, if only for a moment.

— — — — —

Thank you to @valeriianz and @3-inch-sam for the edits!! And shoutout to my two irl friends who cheered on my insane thought process as I wrote this lmao. I have some more ideas about what J/V get up to in this vaguely 1400s-inspired Piltover, so maybe stick around (aka subscribe to the series this fic is part of on ao3!) in the off chance I get time to write it!! Thanks for reading!! :]

#jayvik #jayce x viktor #arcane #jayce talis #viktor arcane #arcane fic #jayvik fic #the machine herald #rex writes #header image is an edit of two frames of the show together! barely edited just overlayed. theyre so beautiful #jayvik pompeii in the distance

49 notes · View notes

sweetflanfiction · 2 days ago

Text

Asymetrical Symphony - Part 14

Universe: Arcane (LOL)

Pairing: Viktor x reader

Summary: You had been on the rooftop with Jayce and the Herald and somehow you were sent to a place where things can be different with your help

Disclaimers and Warnings: If you want me to tag you on the chapters let me know! Also leave a comment with your thoughts :D Not finished, not proofread. English isn't my 1st language. All I know about LOL is from google and all I know about Arcane is taken from the show, so inacuracies will be plenty. I have a sort of idea on how to I'm gonna go with magic and runes, so bear with me. The reader will be written as GN (going by they/them) to get everyone involved, but if you see any discrepancies let me know.

A.N: I've made some cute headers for the thing!!! What do you guys think??

Part 1 • Part 2 • Part 3 • Part 4 • Part 5 • Part 6 • Part 7 • Part 8 • Part 9 • Part 10 • Part 11 • Part 12 • Part 13

• ··········· • ············ •

The respite that was felt after the council decision was welcome, but at the same time it felt very tenuous. Because of your knowledge, it always felt like things were always about to go downhill. It didn’t make you paranoid per se, but it consistently felt like there was a hitch that needed to be scratched somewhere.

The sun was already high when you made your way to the Academy. You had scheduled an appointment to supposedly check on your mother's commission. According to Jayce, everyone who entered that lab after the council decided to supervise it had to be accounted for.

You asked for the visitor pass at the reception, adjusting your shoulder bag and smiling at the man sitting there.

The morning had been good; your audition for the orchestra had gone amazing, and you were now headed to butt heads with your two favorite brainiacs after leaving your mother on a date with her loving partner.

Today was going to be good.

The door to the lab was ajar, but you knocked, the reflex to open it speaking a rune thwarted as you heard more than the two familiar voices inside.

“Come in.” Jayce’s voice boomed, and you walked inside.

You tried to keep the good spirits when you noticed not just Salo but Ambessa and Rictus inside the room. 'Trying' being the key word.

You felt your face contort into turmoil as your eyes landed on the general’s bodyguard. His eyes turned back to you in a blank, nonchalant expression. In your head, the words ‘I know how you die’ kept replaying, like a broken lullaby.

The sound of glass shattering made your head snap to the windows of the lab. The skies had turned a deep, dark, grayish purple, the room darkening as well, and the window of the lab kept cracking. The sound of the glass grinding going up in volume. In the middle of the crack, a purple glowing rune appeared. Ragged and jagged and angry.

You tilted your head and kept staring at it. It was almost hypnotic, a weird tingling in your gloved hand. You wanted to use it, and you wanted to use it now.

It was a feeling unlike any other rune appearance. It was a pull to do it; you needed to do it.

You heard someone call your name in the distance, but the pull was too strong. Golden fingertips came into view as they grabbed your arm.

Without thinking, you twisted your arm around the hand and quickly moved it down to escape its grasp. Following the movement, you shoved a hand out to push it out, only to be snapped out of your headspace by the sound of a slap on a cold metal surface and another hand on your wrist.

Blinking, the space around you got back to normal. Rictus stared at you, one of his eyebrows raised, and you did the same, the mask of civility gone and a scowl now etched on your face.

“Rictus…let the heir to the Rainemoure house go…” Ambessa’s voice cut through the silence. Rictus' grip on your wrist slackened, and your arm fell to your side.

Your gaze shifted to the other people in the room, everyone staring at you in confusion.

“I…” you started, trying to move your face to a more neutral expression. “I apologize; I don’t like being touched.”

“Then maybe you should acknowledge when someone calls your name.” Salo said, and you nodded, slowly coming to your senses, putting the mask back on.

“I apologize. It’s been a long...morning. You looked at both scientists.

They were both wearing the same worried look. Jayce’s eyes kept shifting from Rictus to you and back, and you noticed he was slowly releasing the handle of a hammer. Viktor was staring at you, trying to decipher what it was that had happened, his cane standing mid-way through a step.

“I completely forgot that you had an appointment.” Jayce said, sneakily moving the hammer away from his hand, trying to divert attention.

“It’s alright. I’ll be at the cafeteria; I haven’t had lunch.” You quickly put your hands up, trying to get away from the lab.

“I’ll accompany you.”. Viktor blurted out.

“I’m sure they can make their way there by themselves. This takes priority.” Salo scoffed, looking you up and down.

“Councillor Salo is correct.” You smiled, mask fully back on. “I do apologize, General. I didn’t mean to surprise or harm your bodyguard.”

She fully turned to you and gave you a wolfish grin, tilting her head to the side.

“No need for apologies. He can take it.” Her eyes twitched as she tried to peek back behind the curtain.

Forcefully, but gracefully, you turned to Rictus.

“I am sorry.” You told him, trying with all your might to not grit your teeth, and he nodded. “Well, I’ll see you two in a bit.”

You waved as you walked out the door before making a dash to the elevator and just standing against a corner of the well-lit box, taking several deep breaths.

Aside from the sudden encounter, the feeling of that rune still lingered. It was like a hunger that would only be satisfied when you devoured it, and at the same time, it felt like a caress, stroking your soul, telling you everything would be fine when you spoke it. It was seared into your mind, and yet you didn’t want to speak it.

The elevator pinged, and you walked out directly to the cafeteria, where your objective lay. Or stood.

The Academy’s Grand Piano was donated by the PSO. In your universe, it was a shiny black beast with ivory keys. In this universe, it was a matte grey delicate piece that was perfectly tucked into a corner of the cafeteria.

You walked to the small counter that separated the tables from the service area. A young man was behind it, leaning into the counter reading a book and scribbling something in a notebook. A student. Knocking gently on the counter with your knuckles, so as not to frighten him, you watched as even so he jumped a little. He looked up at you, sighing deeply in annoyance.

“Good day, what can I get you??” He marked the book and looked at you, trying to be courteous and failing.

Ordering something quick to snack on, you looked at the piano as the man started to prepare the food.

“Is the piano tuned?” You nodded towards the instrument.

“Yes.”

“Can anyone play it?”

“Depends.” He placed the latte mug in front of you. “If a person were to just slam on the keys and call that ‘playing it,’ then no…”

“What if a person might just know a bit about it?”

“It’s all yours…”

Little did he know that in your timeline, that piano had been, in fact, yours. Your father donated it to the orchestra, and the orchestra donated it to the Academy.

You grabbed the mug and the small dish with your sandwich and walked to the piano.

“Do you have any requests?” You asked the kid behind the counter, and he shrugged.

“Something that doesn’t sound like a cat screeching.”

“I can do that.”

You sat at the piano, placing your food on a small table nearby. The audition this morning made you remember how much you enjoyed playing.

It reignited something in you. Playing at home, with your mother and Wyllah listening, was nice, but sitting on a stage, with the spotlight on you and people who had never heard you play sitting there, was another experience.

It soothed you, removing any trace of anger or worry the last few minutes had caused you.

Vivaldi - Winter (The Four Seasons)

Placing your fingers on the keys, they moved on their own. Touching the ivory keys in sync with the music in your head. Much like the runes, this was something that, after learning to do, you did without thinking about it. Your brain played the song, and your fingers moved on the piano or any other instrument you had learned to play.

And much like the runes, as you added a note to the melody, it became enriched and more intricate. Your hands flew over the black and white keys like muscle memory.

As you kept playing, you looked at the kid behind the bar who had fully stopped what he was doing and looked at you. In a second his impressed expression changed to a blank one, but you saw his little grin as he shrugged.

There was a small crowd of students that had followed the sound and sat on the tables looking at you. Some were eating while others were trying to study.

“Sorry…” You looked at a girl who was looking at you, a book opened in front of her. She smiled and shook her head.

“It’s nice.” She answered. “Please keep going.”

You straightened your back and kept playing. Sometimes you’d play something more upbeat and then go back to something calmer. You’d banter with the young bartender while you played.

Debussy - Clair de lune

After a few songs, you looked up to see both scientists standing under the arch of the cafeteria entrance looking impressed. Viktor walked towards the piano, followed closely by Jayce.

“I just might start coming to the cafeteria more often…” Viktor announced, leaning into his cane when he got near you.

“You should; the service is quite exceptional…” You said it loud enough that the student behind the bar could hear it.

“Flattery will get you everywhere!” He said, not taking his eyes off his notes.

Jayce grabbed two chairs on his way over and mentioned one to Viktor while sitting on the other. His face had a little concern painted on it.

“What happened up there?” He immediately zeroed in on you, and you sighed.

“Talking about beating around the bush.” You gave Viktor a look, and he shrugged.

“The rage you had in your face when you looked between Rictus and Ambessa…it was murderous.” Jayce whispered. “And then you punched him in the chest.”

“It was a slap at best.” Viktor corrected, placing the cane between his knees, Jayce shooting him a dirty look.

“Listen…” He took a deep breath. “I understand things are... weird for you. Different places, different customs. But that can’t happen, not while Hextech is hanging on the line.”

“It’s not just that…” You sighed and got closer to the edge of the bench. “There was a rune in your lab…”

They exchanged a look, and both got closer, leaning into their knees. The sight of the three of you huddled together must have been something.

“It was different…Like…” You played a few high notes on the piano and then slammed a hand on the low notes. “This…”

Everyone in the room stopped what they were doing to look at you, the sudden sound catching their attention.

“I don’t know what it was, but..." You tried to explain, "Normally they appear when I need them, and I wouldn’t feel the pressure of using them… but this... this one demanded to be used, like it needed it. Like I needed it.”

“Did it hurt you?” Viktor asked, his eyes roaming your arms and face.

“No. If anything, I hurt it by not speaking it into reality.”

“It was time that we found a bad word in the language…” Viktor’s jaw clenched, and after a second he got up. “I’m going to need sugar to study this fully…”

You snorted, and Jayce rolled his eyes as Viktor walked towards the cafeteria counter. You followed his rhythmic strolling, smiling as he looked at all the pastries on display, making an unimpressed face at it.

“Rictus did something in your timeline, didn’t he?” Jayce’s voice snapped you out of watching Viktor’s judgment of the pastry.

“It wasn’t Rictus himself. It was Ambessa.”

“The General?”

“She wants the hextech to be weaponized so she can fight her own enemies…”

“I know…” You looked at Jayce, and he was looking at his feet. “I’ve gathered as much by what Mel tells me about her. Not that she tries to hide it. General Medarda makes some interesting questions.”

You sighed and turned back to the piano, playing some old melody that you knew by heart.

“In my universe…” you started, your tone unsure. “she gets it…She uses it… It doesn’t behave like she wants it, but…in the end…she gets it…”

You steal a glance in Vik’s way as he waits for his order to be prepared. He was chewing on the cheek, deep in thought.

“How?” Jayce frowned in confusion, and after a second, his eyes widened. “Which one of us died?”

• ··········· • ············ •

@marshy-moo @victormydarling @blueesmiski @th3stup1dcat @22carolina08 @httpstes @that-one-shitty-blog @disa-pointment @sseleniaa @moons-lighttrail @aysluxe @fae-doodle @kitewa @local-mr-frog @bakusquadobsessed @cherry-cola-100 @optimistic-but-very-realistic @seeksrsnn @thecordelialetters @notsaelty @lansy-4 @ayupfrogg @sammypotato @wnbrw @lucycarlisleswife @noxturnalmoth @ren-ren23 @furblrwurblr @kapitankarate @mynicknameisgasoline @octo-octopie @birbwithhat @kneelarmhstrung @dedicated2viktor @elvishstudies

#arcane #viktor #arcane viktor #viktor x reader #arcane x reader #viktor arcane #viktor arcane x reader #slow burn #viktor x you #viktor x y/n #arcane viktor x reader #viktor league of legends #arcane season 2 #arcane x you #arcane characters #arcane reader

97 notes · View notes