#street dogs jayce

[streetdogsthecomic]

Street Dogs Out Of Context #1

Some memes referencing to things that shall happen in the story!

Down the cut is some lore behind each of these funnies for context xD + the ref images used!

1- Daniel is the Chemistry teacher at Venatio Academy, and as u can tell his classes are rather- wild. 2- Caíque tends to get himself into some "situations" from time to time, and ofc he will drag his friends along 3- Danika will face spirits once learning how to handle her Hunter Gift, but that doesnt necessarily mean she will be too brave about it xD 4- Miles teaching about Anomalies be like 5- Camping at the Bloodhound Camp be like

[skyartworkzzz]

An out of context Street Dogs thing of Danika chasing Nick and Jayce LMFAO

Based on this one image

Jade rlly is just the type to sit back and watch xD

[aldana-brillantina]

HERO OF MY OWN STORY, A VILLAIN IN OTHERS'.

Nobody is good in Arcane(maybe Ekko). If you watch the show you can take a side depending on who you empathize with the most or who you consider their reasons to be good and justifiable to a certain point. This is a story of sides, of perspectives.

Caitlyn is a good person, who has never had anything bad happen to her and lives in a perfect world where her city is an example of progress, she is a person raised in a peaceful environment and she never had the need to be bad or wish evil. That makes her naive, like a baby. That makes her even somewhat insensitive in very specific occasions like when she sees a reality that is not hers (You don't have parents? You're wrong) but it also makes her feel empathy because she doesn't conceive that someone can live like garbage (when she hugs that man addicted to shimmer, when she criticizes her mother and the council for the situation in undercity). But what Jinx generates is what I want to discuss. Before her encounter with her, Cait had never been in danger and bad things classified as horror movies had happened to her, that was in the past. That's when you start to think, she was good because she never had or felt the need to be anything else. Hate can warp a person, and someone like Cait who never felt it, really felt it, well. She's still a person.I think bad situations are the ones that really bring out some hard truths about a person. But also, do we all process trauma the same way? No, does that justify any wrong you do? No, it makes it understandable.I think people are very unfair to Cait, Jinx, Vi, and even Jayce. I think it's because we all judge them from one reality, our own. But they have many.

If we look at it from Piltover's perspective, the Enforcers are heroes, people who protect them from those who want to harm them and risk their lives all the time, that it is thanks to them that they sleep peacefully in their beds and that it is thanks to the council and their good management that everyone has what they need to live. If I grew up under that reality, the Zaunites are wild animals, less than them.Jayce did not belong to the elite in the beginning of the series, he really worked hard to reach the position he is in and he believes that with enough dedication one can achieve their dreams. That is not Viktor's reality, because no matter how hard he tries or how much effort he puts into it, he is a Zaunite and people will always look down on him. That is when two realities collide without letting the other be a lie. Because Jayce really tried hard and Viktor is still less.

Jinx is a killer, a monster in Piltover, the bogeyman who took the city of progress out of peace and balance. She is Silco's attack dog, his pet for most of Zaun. She is the daughter of her boss, for Sevika. His daughter, the representation of the city he always wanted and his greatest weakness for Silco. But I think the worst thing is that she is a product of a violent environment, an environment that never saw any other way to survive than by stealing like rats or kicking others, and this was Piltover's fault. How much of the damage she does is justified if we look at it from the Zaun perspective?

For Undercity, Zaun, Piltover's live off their blood and beat them in the streets since before Silco. How many of them lost families, friends and lovers at their hands? The protests are the result of rage, pain and hunger. My dad said that if there's one thing you never forget it's hunger, guys, this is a city that lives hungry and on crumbs. No, Enforcers are not heroes, they're boogeymen and it's been a reality for, if my calculations are correct, over 150 years (I'm guessing a bit here, taking into account Vi's birth date and Piltover's founding in the lore). So the Zaunite mentality is different, like, you slaughter us for a few when you slowly killed thousands over all these years? It's not right because I'm sure there are innocent people in Topside who live in ignorance of the cost of all the pleasures they enjoy and probably see them even more as animals after these "senseless" attacks. But this makes a lot of sense to them. And Caitlin along with Mel's mom, how many lives will they take, how many mothers? She would be someone else's Jinx.

I remember Silco, in his meeting to remind the chemis of their place, mentioned the mines and how they all breathed shitty air and did they remember it. They don't look old, they started young. Vander and Silco met there, young. Because, here I am playing devil's advocate, Silco despite being a shitty person did not invent child labor or all evil as some of us like to believe, he is a product and he grew up with it, it is normal for him. And yes, at some point, even before he died, he wanted something more, believed he deserved something more when many people simply continued to think they belong under the boot of topside. But he also poisoned his people and did not change the reality for younger generations, he only made it harder for them to prosper. Because in his reality, people who want to survive will do so at all costs, for him only the one who manages to reinvent himself deserves to remain standing, because that's what he did to live. Swim or you sink, there's no other option.

And isn't that the reason why Ekko and his community are still alive? They reinvented themselves, but by lifting each other up rather than tearing each other down. And that's their reality. They didn't need to leave anyone behind because they all contributed to the boat instead of swimming individually.

People who work for Silco, do they have families? Children, siblings. When you hurt someone, regardless of whether they're bad or good, it's someone's brother, someone's child, someone's friend. Someone always gets hurt, directly or indirectly. The Firelights are the good guys, probably the most well-intentioned organization in the series. That doesn't change that how much they screw up those Silco jobs (for good reason) they put other people in danger who may have children or family and they'll think, even if they're wrong, that they're the bad guys.

But did Silco have Vander and were leaders in their own movement for independence? Well, it didn't work out and they lost everything. That formed Silco. What would Ekko do if he lost everything? Even though he's done it once, can he do it again?

That's the litmus test for every character, who you are, what's left, after a great loss. You become like Jinx or Cait, who get lost in their grief and punish people regardless of whether they're responsible or not. Or like Ekko, who like a tree, resists blows because his roots are stronger.

[melmedarda]

@meljaymicrofics   ⸻ mafia au ⸻ wc: 755 ⸻ rated T

Piltover, the playground for the wealthy. Her mother's wetdream. Casinos, seaside resorts, yacht clubs, the city has it all. And it all belongs to Mel. Her mother runs the syndicate in Noxus on drugs and weapons smuggling. Mel deals in vice. In desire. And though so well acquainted, she doesn't see her own hunting her down until its too late.

She's got the Mayor of Piltover in her hand. The previous Mayor had been a short, mousy sort of man, with whiskers too big for his round face and policies that mirrors something from last century. But this mayor is sleek, ambitious, and weak for power. It's why Mel chooses Salo. It's something she can give him.

She's got the man in Zaun in her palm as well. Though he doesn't know it. Silco. A man who serves her purposes more than his predecessor. He is leader of his own gang, and keeps the chembarons in hand, while Mel runs her dark operations under the cover of the Gray. It works quite well for her. She likes playing in Zaun's shadows.

It is House Ferros who has the Enforcers in hand; a forcer of blue hats tasked with the protection of the city. Truly though, they operate at Camille's bidding. Camille has never forgiven Mel for taking Zaun from beneath her grasp. Mel will never apologize. And so she is hunted.

Their hunting dog is a man too sincere for his own good. Jayce Talis sculpted by the gods, and his eyes inspire a pool of want in Mel's abdomen. But he's a hound with a scent, and she knows he'll break his teeth in her neck if he catches her. She wonders if she'll let him.

Talis pursues her across districts. Between cities. Mel does not fear him. Leaves notes of her perfume to keep him on her scent. Sly smiles at security cameras where she knows she will be seen. Her men hover, guard her closely on her way back from the Mayor's office. She meets his gaze from where across the street. Pulls her fur coat closer about her shoulders in the cool afternoon. She looks away.

Their cat and mouse game is a highlight in her life for a moment. He's ever so close, but not close enough. Not until she's pressed up against a wall outside the Last Drop, the night air thick with shimmer and bass and gray. Cold metal of a barrel pressed into the flesh of her side.

His breath is vapor in the chilled Zaun air. Winter has come, and so has he. But she's never felt warmer than in his presence. And with his gun against her side, Mel feels hotter than the fucking sun.

"So you've found me,” she says. Her knife is trained on his throat, blade winking neon in the dim light of the alleyway. Jayce Talis looks like he might kill her, and Mel feels the more alive for it. Her men are no where to be found. Mel leans forward her lips ghosting against his ear as she leans up and closer. "What will you do, Talis? Now that you've caught me."

His nostrils flare. Perhaps in indignation. Perhaps in something else. One can never be to sure when in Zaun. His teeth bare now, like to good hunting dog he is. Mel wants him at her throat. Drawing blood.

"You belong behind bars. You are vermin." Passion flares in his eyes. The kiss of the gun grows warm against her skin, and she tilts the knife at his neck to kiss him in turn. He does not flinch. "If there is any justice in this world, I will see you punished for your crimes."

"Take me, then," Mel murmurs. Drops her knife. Listens to it clatter against the cobblestone as she stands defenseless before him. The gun lowers, and he presses her further into the wall, body a furnace against her own. She could burn in a hell of his making, she thinks as she leans up again, this time to press her lips against his.

His hand comes up to encircle the column of her neck, none too gentle. Her eyes flutter open as he presses her back, and away. Talis' eyes are glazed, lips slick, and it softens the heat of his glare. Her own personal vice. And then, she slashes him with the other knife she'd hidden within her jacket. Deep, across his chest.

"Nothing personal, Talis." The gun clatters. Mel does not look back.

[yosajaeofficial]

ROTTMNT OC: JAYCE MYLES

Introducing our MC, “Jayce Myles”! She was a dedicated worker at Fernando’s Taco Shop with her guardian, Rogelio Andazola. Jayce can be considered a teacher’s pet in school, but they’re also knowledgeable with the streets around her. They’re not dumb at all (extremely aware of her surroundings to the point where others tried testing her), and sometimes can intimidate people just to make sure no one gets in their way when scholarships opportunities open up. Their biased opinions come from growing up too fast, there’s lots to unravel with her, and a certain blue masked mutant turtle wanted to learn more about her. The Mad Dogs needed more information about the streets of New York City; so, they made a deal with this teen girl. It will only get worse from here on out.

[pumpkin--carver]

Cats or Dogs?

Which do the chacaters of Arcane prefer? The sometimes ferocious felines? Or the playful pups?

Let's find out shall we?

Vi

Now, Vi may be a lebsian, however she does not follow any rules and shes not about to start now. Violet would definately have two dogs. One would be a super cute, super fluffy fur baby. While the other would be some big bulky protecter. She loves both her dogs equally and they go everywhere with her. For her smaller dog she would have a littler carrier for when it gets tired. As for her "scary" dog, she would most likely get a breed with lots of stamina so they wouldn't have trouble keeping up as she runs through the streets of Piltover. Names. When it comes to names, Vi would be very basic. Something along the lines of Fluffy and Spike. Only theres one catch. Fluffy would big her big dog while Spike would most certainly be her small baby.

She had considered calling one her of dogs Naked or Nude just so she could watch people's faces turn to horror when she said "Let me just go get naked."

Vi's dogs are very well behaved.

Caitlyn

Caitlyn is not a rule breaker. However, this is not because she dislikes dogs or even because she prefers cats. Infact, Caitlyn likes both dogs and cats. But due to the nature of herself job, she tends to not have enough time to properly care for a dog.

She never planned to get any animal due to her job, but when she found Whisker scared and alone in the wreckage of a burned down building, she knew he needed a good home.

When whisker first came into Caitlyns care he had a few burns which she tried her hardest to take care of. And with the help of the cities finest vet, whisker healed up in no time at all.

Whisker was never overly loving unless it was on his terms. With that being said, he did like to stay close to his master. This worked rather well for Caitlyn because she could get on with her work and not have to worry about Whisker being upset.

Whisker does not like dogs but Vi's dog fluffy is his bestfriend. Hates all other dogs.

Whisker is not that well behaved and will scratch all the expensive furinture in the house with no cares. Caitlyn never tells him off because she loves him so much. Her mother on the other hand... is not a fan of the cat.

Jayce

We all already what Jayces would prefer. Thats right! Cats!

...

Hang on. Thats not right. Let's try that again.

Thats right! Dogs!

Jayce would have a golden retriever called Pumpkin or Blackberry. And both him and his dog are loyal until the end. Which causes Mel to comment on alike him and his pooch are.

Pumpkin/Blackberry are protective of her master. In fact, when Jayce and Mel had gotten into a partiularly heated argument, she wake up and placed herself between Mel and Jayce. Then she got into a defensive stance, bristled her fur and showed Mel her teeth. All whilst letting out a low warning growl.

Mel wasn't afraid of Pumpkin/Blackberry but she did leave while remarking that Jayce should teach his dog some manners.

"Maybe you should ask Vi for some advice? Even her dogs are better behaved than this."

Jayce wasn't mad Pumpkin/Blackberry he was fuming at Mel though for how they acted but he did secretly agree with Mel.

Pumpkin/Blackberry still has some training to go before she can be the best girl around.

Viktor

This little lab rat has never had the chance to own his own pet yet. But If he had to pick between the two. Well... He wouldn't be able to pick. Why you might be asking? Its obvious isn't it?

The reason Viktor wouldn't be able to pick between the two is simply because his heart belongs to his work. Yet, there is something about those scaly little reptiles that fascinates him.

Would probably have a chameleon if he were to have a pet

красота is the name he would pick. Meaning beauty in russian. According to google translate anyway.

Author's note

I think I'd like to do more of these random headcannons. Or just more random writing things. I do hope you enjoy this little scribble of mine. If anyone would like me to do this specific headcannon for any other Arcane characters do let me know! As always, stay safe, drink plenty of water and please do take care of yourselves. I love you all my little plumpkins.

[mangacultes80]

refonte de Mangacultes 80

a partir du 15 Aout nous allons refaire tous les 242 billets qui serons transformé a galeries direct chaque Billet sera refait 30 Images pour toutes les série, Film, Oav, etc..

car la totalité des liens ne sont plus valide alors nous avons décider de refaire tout ses billet en galeries direct de 30 Images certains des billet ne serons pas disponible un moment mais tous les billet serons refait alors le plus rapidement que possible

Les billet refais a ce jour

Ghoblin slayers

Arrette de me Chauffer Nigata

Bkanche Neige et les 7 Nains

Bonkers

Une Vie Nouvelle (Set 01)

Dinky.Dog

Porco Rosso (New)

Wingman (Set 01)

Wingman (Set 02)

Dangaizer 3

Hayate no Gotoku! Heaven Is a Place on Earth

Ef a Tale of Memories - Recollections

Dynomutt Dog Wonder (New)

Campione ! (New)

Love Phéromone (New)

Lucky Luke Les Dalton En Cavale (New)

Legend of Lemnear (1989)

Bubblegm Crisis Oav 01 - Tinsel City

Lucky Luke Daisy Town

The Legend Of Zelda

La Flûte à six Schtroumpfs

City Hunter the Movie Angel Dust (New)

Le Royaume des chats (New)

Bubblegm Crisis Oav 02

The Super Mario Bros Movie

Devils Line

Jeanne Et Serge

La Bataille Des Planètes

Hellsing Ultimate (Oav 01)

Vanessa ou la Magie des Rêves

Hunter × Hunter

Louie the Rune Soldier

Slime Taoshite 300-nen Shiranai Uchi ni Level Max ni Nattemashita

Malicieuse Kiki

Trigun Stampede (New)

Eden Zero Movie (New)

Mushoku Tensei Jobless Reincarnation (Oav 01) (New)

Tempo Express

C – Control – The Money and Soul of Possibility

Dance In The Vampire Bund

Alerte Rouge

Popotan

Fractal

Gantz

Princesse Saphir

Ro Kyu Bu (New)

Nuruto et la Princesse des Neiges (New)

Naruto Film 02 ''La Légende de la pierre de Guelel'' (New)

Inuyasha Kagami no Naka no Mugenjou (New)

Tomo chan Isa Girl (New)

Les Samouraïs De L’Éternel

Nanatsu no Taizai The Seven Deadly Sins

Kabaneri of the Iron Fortress

La Patrouille des Aigles

Schwarzes Marken

Hellsing Ultimat 02 (New)

Hellsing Ultimat 03 (New)

Ultraman Rissing 2024 (New)

The Idhun Chronicles

Saint Seiya - La Guerre des Dieux

Hellsing Ultimat (Oav 04) (New)

Plastic Little

Tad L'Explorateur A La Recherche De La Cité Perdue

City Hunter Bay City Wars

Luck

Chevalier Deon (Films 01) (New)

Dragon Ball L’Aventure mystique

Les Aventures du Bosco

Olive et Tom Film 01 Un Match Amical

Isekai Yakkyoku (New)

Olive et Tom Film 02 La Coupe Du Monde Junior

Dante, Seigneur des démons

Dungeon ni Deai wo Motomeru no wa Machigatteiru Darou ka II (OAV 01) (New)

Dungeon ni Deai wo Motomeru no wa Machigatteiru Darou ka II (OAV 02) (New)

Dan et Danny (Film 02) - Seriously The God Cannon Is A Beauty’s Keyword To Escape

Le chat botté - Le tour du monde en 80 jours

Hunter X Hunter Phantom Rouge

Sei Juushi Bismarck (Bismarck, les mousquetaires planétaires)

Is Infinite (New)

Kreuz Weib Brillance

Le chat botté 2 - Le retour du chat botté

Le Cygne Et La Princesse (Films 01) (New)

Le Petit Grille Pain 1 Courageux (Films 01)

Zutto Mae kara Suki deshita (New)

Vinland Saga (New)

My Unique Skill Makes Me OP Even.at Level 1 (New)

Spy Classroom (New)

Storm Rider Clash Of Evil (New)

Street Fighter Alpha Oav 01 (New)

Aldnoah Zero (New)

By the Grace of the Gods (New)

Jayce Et Les Conquerants De La Lumiere (New)

Le Prince du Soleil (New)

Peach Boy Riverside (New)

Summertime Rendering (New)

Quality Assurance in Another World (New)

Alya Sometimes Hides Her Feelings in Russian (New)

Chillin in Another World with Level 2 Super Cheat Powers (New)

Nous vous remercions pour la fidélité et via le Mails pour vos multiple demande de série, Film, Oav, etc..

si vous avez une demande pour une séries manga, film, Oav etc... envoyer nous un mail via cette Adresse zm2024@tutamail.com

bonne visite de se blog

La Team ¨_¨

[luxcruor]

i think a little danger is worth it , don’t you ? ( Jayce for Shori )

↪ *    𝑫𝑰𝑹𝑬 𝑺𝑰𝑻𝑼𝑨𝑻𝑰𝑶𝑵𝑺  . ( i forget the exact meme whoops ) / @knightfeared. *-

❝  couldn't agree more ! ! - which is why i'm going in first. ❞ she grins, playfully elbowing his arm with a sheepish " - wow, that's a bicep alright.❞ she moves ahead of him their steps echoing through the alley. though Piltover was a much more guarded area shori's mind and body did not allow for security. why now?? why today of all days?! battle tactics and escape routes all churn through her thoughts as they move back towards the main street

❝  nothing scary or threatening about an alleyway at all. ❞

she sighs to herself. it was like this guy felt invincible. it was damn near endearing.. like a dog ready to charge headfirst into an unknown forest for her to chase after. if not her then who ? she'd chase after this man to the ends of the forest's reach and back if it meant keeping that smile of his bright. etching the dimples on his cheeks permanently, like a statue, a work of art, he was at least to her. a walking beacon of hope and progress… and he never had to get his hands dirty for it. someone should pinch her.. just being around jayce was like a dream. there wasn't time for people like her to dream. that fear always gnawed away at her chest to the point a sudden noises makes her jump. ( not again.. ) ❝  JAYCE!!!! ❞ she moves on her own to him. arms spread wide in front as her eyes dart around frantically. a waste bin now on it's side the apparent culprit. now she's frozen again. heart racing against her ribs she can feel the cold sweat forming droplets over her forehead fogging doe-eyes over in fear. ( c'mon wake up! where are you right now?! )

❝  it's.. o--oh i uhm--- i thought. ❞

[thedurvin]

Meanwhile Mattel is also doing a great job making Masters of the Universe toys out of obscure classics and concept art and extras from the background of box art, but can I just suggest that they do a line of Masters of the Multiverse or something and bring in some other Mattel properties they’re doing nothing with

Honestly I’m surprised Street Sharks and Extreme Dinosaurs haven’t already been absorbed into the line; they could even use the same molds for the arms and legs

Take the same muscly limbs and stick them on plastic food with faces and brother you’ve got Food Fighters. Cmon Mattel, just one, Eternia is a big place, they’ve got room for a hot dog man

BraveStarr feels like it’s already in the same universe. I bet that one cyborg cowboy that’s friends with He-Man knows BraveStarr too

Xtractaurs mix-n-match dinosaurs

Rockem Sockem Robots. Just repaint any other robot in red and blue and you’re done

The Multiverse guys have a powerful computer called the Intellivision that can summon various low-def enemies from AstroSmash or whatever, y’all own an entire iconic game library

My dudes you own Shogun Warriors, which I think would grant you legal precedent to make MotU versions of dozens of classic Japanese mecha and kaiju. PLUS that series canonically had transforming robots which would allow for some even crazier versions of classic vehicles without having to rely on teaming up with the competition over at Hasbro

Jayce and the Wheeled Warriors

What’s Her Face women without faces

Boglins

Remember that weird 90s Creepy Crawlers cartoon? The one that was like an even weirder TMNT knockoff? Anybody?

Okay Monster High is very much not abandoned IP but there needs to be some crossover between the two, I don’t care if it’s MotU Frankie Stein or if Skeletor gets a side gig teaching at the Evil School or whatever

U wanna get really crazy? Make MotU vehicles out of some of the iconic weird Hot Wheels

Okay now I’m just skimming the list of Mattel properties but what the hell are U B Funkeys?

Oh those things! Yeah they look like they could be one of those little peasant Ewok-Smurf-Hobbit tribes that He-Man has to save from some evil monster. Same for Upsy Downsies and Pixel Chix

[le-fruit-de-la-passion]

Downfall - Jayce x Reader (Explicit)

***

After a massive explosion at the Academy leaves Piltover in disarray, Jayce orders the capture of known Zaunite activists to try and locate Jinx. But when he arrests you, he might get a lot more than what he bargained for...

***

"Let me go!"  

You screamed, you hit, you bit, but they held onto you tightly, fingers digging into your skin as they dragged you down the stairs. The two men all but threw you into the underground cell like a dog, and you immediately sprung on your legs to claw at the metal bars. They watched you with vague disgust, and you snarled. If they wanted an animal, they'd get one.  

"Fucking sewer rats…" the first one said, wiping the hand that had held your arm like it was infected. "They all smell like shit." The other one watched you with a more careful eye, his blue gaze slightly fearful. "I just want the councilor to get here so we can leave… I don't trust her."  

As if on cue, heavy steps echoed from outside the dimly lit room. A large man opened the door, bending his head to get through the doorway before going down the wooden stairs. The golden accents of his posh suit glistened off the lights on the wall, his tan skin rosy, his ebony hair slicked back to perfection. You could have laughed; he couldn't look more pompous if he tried.   

"Sir!"   

The large man glanced at the guards, dismissing them with a wave of his broad hand.  

"At ease, please."  

His eyes landed on you, and he examined you unsurely, like he wasn't sure if you would bite if he got too close. You maintained his stare defiantly, holding your head proud.  

"I'm sorry for the harsh welcome," he said with the soft but firm voice of a politician, getting a little closer to your cage with careful steps. "We just want to know where Jinx is."  

You looked into his deep green eyes as he approached, and behind his composed facade, you saw fear and hate look back at you. As soon as he got within reach, you spat on his shoes.  

Immediately one of the guards jumped at you, hitting your fingers on the metal railing with his baton as you yelped in pain: "How fucking dare-"  

"It's fine," the tall man cut, holding him back with a stiff grip. "Stand down."  

The soldier grumbled under his breath, staring daggers at you before rejoining his partner's side at the back of the room, who had seemed horrified at the whole ordeal. The large man stared at his stained shoe silently, his determination to stay amiable clearly crumbling.   

"We'll let you go as soon as you tell us where she is," he said, tone significantly lower. "That's all we want."  

You watched him, eyeing the golden keys dangling from his pocket, looking at his body for some sort of weakness. His chest seemed sculpted out of rock, the muscles barely contained by his dress shirt. His legs were thick and powerful, his neck almost broader than your entire head. He would not be an easy one to defeat. Then, something hit you: you had seen that man before. You had seen him in streets and vendor stalls, on walls and posters, his handsome smile plastered all throughout the city.   

"I know you," you purred, feeling a smile creep up your lips as he flinched. "You're the man of progress. You're the golden boy !"  

He looked sick. He took a step back, his eyes darting to the floor in something akin to guilt; you had found a weak spot.  

"Weren't you supposed to make the world better for us, golden boy? Weren't you supposed to save us all with your hextech? Is this all you do behind closed doors, kidnapping defenseless little girls to put in your dungeon ?"  

His face hardened, and he stared at you coldly, hands balling to his side.  

"You're nothing remotely close to a defenseless little girl. You almost killed one of my men when they tried to bring you here. He may never see again."  

You hummed, delighted in how his fists almost shook in frustration at your nonchalance. "I did him a favor. The world is ugly, golden boy. And before last week, you were all already blind to it anyway."   

He was clearly trying very hard to stay neutral, but his whole body was an open book, and you could see he was fuming.  

"Before last week, Piltover had leaders it could count on. They had their faults, but they were people striving for the betterment of both our nations. Jinx murdered them all in cold blood."  

You picked at your nails in disinterest: "And yet you're still standing here. Jinx didn't do a great job."  

He moved, and for a second you thought he was going to lunge at you through the bars before a metallic sound echoed throughout the room. He froze. He looked in panic at the top of the stairs as the sound got closer, before someone knocked indignantly at the door, clearly ready to break it down if no one answered. "Jayce !" a heavily accented voice shouted outside. "I need to speak to you right now !"   

The man, Jayce, let out a heavy sigh, large shoulders hunching in defeat. He threw one last look at you before giving his attention to the two guards, who were looking at him in confusion; the man upstairs was clearly not supposed to be aware of your presence. "You're dismissed," he mumbled to the two men, and the three of them headed up the stairs, the guards disappearing out of your view. You caught a glimpse of a cane and two pale, thin legs, before Jayce closed the door shut behind them.  

"Is that what we are doing now? Taking prisoners? Have we sunk so low?" the other man hissed in anger.  

"Viktor, you don't get it," Jayce answered in a hushed voice. "We have to-"  

Their voices got lower, their heated debate muffled by the rock walls. You leaned in as far as you could, only catching the last of their argument  

"- that is fine. But do not expect my support with this," the thinner man seethed. "You have changed, Jayce." You heard him leave in fury, metal cane angrily hitting the floor.

For a moment, you heard nothing, and you wondered if Jayce was going to go after him. But the door to the cellar creaked open, and he walked back inside with a blank stare, like someone had just dropped the weight of the entire world on his shoulders. You felt no sadness for him.  

"What happened? Your daddy didn't know you kept girls locked up down here ?"  

He looked at you with pure, unadulterated disgust. "I'll come back to see you later. I hope for both our sakes you'll be ready to talk then."

---

It felt like hours had passed before Jayce came back, but when he did, you were ready, a small rock nestled in the palm of your hand. It was not as sharp as you wished, and you had bloodied your fingers trying to dislodge it out of the wall, but it was the best you had, and it would have to do.  

You couldn't help but feel a slight excitement as you heard his heavy footsteps upstairs, imagining the despair on his poster-boy face as he bled out on the floor, left to die by a street girl half his size. It was all he deserved. It was all any of them deserved for what they had put your people through.  

You rolled into a tight ball against the wall as you heard him go down the stairs, hiding your face inside your arms and holding on tightly to your weapon.  

"I've brought water, and food," Jayce said in a much calmer voice than earlier, and you heard the sound of a platter being set down on the floor. Then, he seemed to notice how you were placed. "Are you ok ?"  

You stayed still.  

"Hey," he said, rattling the cell's bars, a hint of concern in his tone. "Hey!"  

But you didn't move an inch.  

He cursed under his breath and you heard the jingle of keys before the cage's door creaked open. You felt him approach you, and his large hand touched your shoulder so gently you almost felt bad for what you were about to do. "Are you alright ?" he breathed out worriedly.  

You turned quickly, rock in hand, aiming for his jugular with all your strength. But he was bigger, faster, and not as gullible as you had assumed him to be. He quickly grabbed your arms and pinned them to the wall, the tiny rock barely cutting his cheek as you yelped in surprise.  

"Fuck," he breathed out angrily. "Why would you do that ?!"  

You trashed around, trying to escape, but his grip was like metal, your arms moving uselessly against it.  

"You don't get it. You never will," you hissed, trying to dig your nails into his tan skin. "I'll die here before I tell you anything, and trust me, I won't come at you with just a rock next time."  

He looked at you with pity, and you felt like ripping off every inch of his perfect face.  

"I don't want to hurt you," he whispered, and his breath smelled like the expensive dark coffee nobles would throw at begging children at the outskirts of the city. "Please. I don't want any this."  

You spat in his face.  

His hands reflexively let your arms, and you used the momentum to kick his stomach with your knee. He doubled over, whimpering in pain, and you fell to your knees next to him, desperately clawing at his pants for the keys. But they weren't there. They weren't there.  

A strong hand grabbed your ankle, dragging your face down to the floor, and you yelped in pain. He turned you around like you weighed nothing more than a few grains of sand, trapping you underneath his body, his face contorted in anger. "Ok, that fucking hurt !"   

You swallowed with difficulty, fear and adrenaline coursing through your veins as you struggled to regain your breathing.   

"You're…" you started, voice raspy. "You're smarter than you look. You took the keys from your pocket when I wasn't looking."  

His thick eyebrows were frowned in annoyance, but you didn't miss the hint of a cocky smile drawing itself on his lips: "Out of all the things I thought you'd to say, a compliment wasn't one of them."  

You panted silently, eyes never leaving his. It was eerily quiet, almost peaceful, his body warm against yours, and for a moment you let yourself imagine if it would be so bad to stay in this cell if it was with him.  

"I," you started, breaking the silence, "think you broke my ankle."  

He didn't move. With how close he was laying, you fully took in the details of his face, noticing the sharpness of his jaw and the fullness of his lips, tiny scars peppering the copper skin. The posters truly didn't do him justice. He smelled like expensive cologne and fancy shampoo, with a faded scent of fire and metal.  

"I'm sorry about the ankle, but I can't let you move right now," he answered calmly, warm breath tickling your face. "You haven't given me many reasons to trust you."  

You hummed, feeling your body throb in exertion at his weight on top of yours. Had the circumstances been different, you wouldn't have minded being in this position with him. Maybe, if the way his eyes had darted to your cleavage as he had pinned you down, he wouldn't have either.  

"I promise I'll let you go if you just tell me where Jinx is," he said gently, and you felt a pang of annoyance in your chest. "Is that the only thing you know about Zaun? Jinx? Do you think she represents all of us ? Do I look like Jinx ?"  

He opened his mouth to argue, but you didn't let him, smashing your lips against his decidedly. He went rigid, eyes wide in surprise, but he didn't move, still holding you down with the same force. When you pulled away, he was flushed, and very, thoroughly confused.  

"You…kissed me."  

"I did," you answered.  

"You kissed me," he repeated in bewilderment, "after you just tried to cut my neck open with a rock."  

"You were talking too much about her. It pissed me off," you explained simply as you licked your lips, noticing the way his eyes followed the motion.

"Zaunites take what they want, when they want it. And if you want me to tell you anything, golden boy," you said, pointedly rocking your hips against his, "you're going to have to make me."  

You could read every thought and emotion going through in him as he studied you unsurely. You rolled your hips against him again, and he made a small strangled sound, biting his bottom lip. He let out a final shaky breath before looking into your eyes, decided: "If you do anything that makes me think you're trying to escape," he said, tightening the grip on your wrists, "this ends immediately. Do we understand each other ?"  

"I believe we do," you purred, and your lips met his again. This time he replied in fervor, his tongue meeting yours hungrily. You bit his lip harshly and his eyes glistened in challenge, his teeth clashing against yours defiantly. You fought sloppily for control, drool running down your chin before you had to pull away for air.  

"You really taste like rich people's coffee," you hummed, a string of saliva connecting your lips to his.  

"And you-" he started with a smirk, whatever smart talk he had got stuck in his throat when you bent to kiss his neck, "you…"  

You nipped at the skin, quickly finding his pulse and sucking onto it. His hips ground onto yours, and you felt his length dig into your thighs. When you pulled away, his cheeks were red, and he was panting.  

"You…" he mumbled, trying to remember what he was going to say. "You're wearing too much clothing."  

You nodded pointedly at his hands pinning you down: "You could always let my hands go so I can take some of it off."  

He laughed, and the sound was deep and gentle against your ear.  

"I'm an inventor. I'll find another way."  

He lowered himself slightly to put his mouth to your stomach, bitting a fistful of the fabric with his teeth before pulling in one swift motion, ripping the seams with the strength of his jaw. He let the ruined fabric fall out of his mouth with a cocky smile.  

"See? Didn't even need to use hands."  

It would be a cold day in hell before you told him that had made you clench.  

"Did it occur to you I might like this top ?". But his attention was already on your chest, warm mouth working your tits readily. You didn't want to admit it, but he was good. What he lacked in technique he made up in eagerness, his lips going from one nipple to the other, swirling them with his tongue as your toes curled.  

"Fuck," he muttered against your skin, "they're so fucking soft…"  

You moaned appreciatively, your fingers uselessly grasping at nothing as you wished you could fist them into his hair.  

"See ?" you exhaled, "We have nice things down in Zaun too."  

He stopped at that, looking up at you from under your breasts. "I don't- I don't hate Zaun. I just-" he interrupted himself, looking away hesitantly, "I just don't think it's possible for our people to simply get along anymore."  

"We've never gotten along," you answered curtly. "The upper city has just ignored us until someone was brave enough to make us heard."  

His gaze hardened, and he brought himself up slightly, holding his forehead against yours to look into your eyes.  

"And is that someone Jinx ?"  

Your eyes narrowed coldly.  

"You talk about her too fucking much."  

Your lips crashed against his, mean, rough, and when you bit it was to draw blood. He answered in the same way and you felt dizzy as a metallic taste filled your mouth, the sensation overwhelming. You gasped for air when he pulled away, feeling like you had forgotten how to breathe.  

"You're jealous of her," he stated matter of factly, lips tinted red, like his tongue hadn't been deep inside your throat seconds earlier. "Why ?"  

You scoffed, spitting bloody saliva to your side. "I'm not jealous, I'm mad. You pilties all think she's some sort of criminal mastermind with a grandiose plan to bring you down. She isn't," you grunted. "She's just fucking insane."  

You moved your hips against him, rubbing your thighs against his length as his breath hitched. "Now, can we go back to the part where you fuck me ?"  

His voice tightened when he replied: "We sure can."

To your surprise, he let go of your wrists, hands settling against your waist instead. "Don't make me regret this," he mumbled.  

Then, in an instant, he had you in his arms, pinning you against the wall a few feet off the ground. Your legs automatically snaked around him for safety, and he smirked in that horribly perfect way of his. One of his hands left your waist to pull down your pants, letting them fall loudly onto the floor as he almost ripped off your underwear. His thick fingers quickly found your warmth, teasing your clit. "Have you been this wet all along?"  

You opened your mouth to snap back an answer, but he shoved two digits inside your heat without warning, and your mouth open in frozen surprise. You whined as he started moving them, their size already filling. The confident smile on his face grew, and he glanced at you amusedly. "Is this how you do all your negotiations, or am I just a lucky guy?"  

You bit down your lips painfully, the fragile skin bruised and bloody, to prevent a moan from coming out when his fingers curled.  

"Y-you're one to talk, golden boy," you snarled with as much irony as you could. "That man that came earlier, you let him fuck you, don't you? You were shivering like a little bitch when he yelled at you."  

His eyebrows furrowed, his gaze burning into yours, and his fingers picked up in speed, fucking you against the rock wall.  

"Don't," he said in warning, voice low, "talk about him like that."  

You glared back at him, meeting his angry stare.  

"Make me."  

His fingers left your insides swiftly, and you felt your cheeks redden when you unwillingly let out a whine of complaint. He unzipped his fly, bringing his cock out to lay it against your lower stomach, and you swallowed hard. He was long, yes, but he was thick, the head impossibly bulbous, easily the size of your fist. He hummed in satisfaction at your lack of answer, coating your skin with beads of precum: "Now that shuts you up. You like that, baby girl ?"  

You wanted him. You wanted him to shut his stupid mouth and pound into you with all that stupid strength of his until you could do nothing but lay there and take him.

"I expected bigger," you mumbled, looking away, "but with the size of your ego it was clear you were compensating for something."  

His lips straightened into a thin line. He let go of his cock to line it up against your entrance, his now free hand going to your face and firmly holding it against the wall.  

"You really should learn to shut up," he muttered, and you barely had the time to say wait before he pushed into you, his head barely making it through the resistance of your walls. You let out a silent scream, mouth agape, eyes rolling back into your skull. You saw white as he bottomed out, feeling your thighs shake against him.  

"Sorry, did you ask me to wait? I don't think I heard you very well. Speak up, baby girl." At your lack of answer, his bravado fell, and his free hand gently caressed your cheek in worry. "Are you ok? I should have gone slower, it's a lot all at once-" You kissed him savagely, regaining your senses, the feeling of him in you overwhelming perfect. "Don't stop."  

That was all it took to convince him. His eyes close shut and he pounded into you, once, twice, thrice, rythm impossibly fast and rough, and you felt like a cotton ragdoll in his arms.  

"Fuck, fuck you're so tight-" he mumbled incoherently against your ear. Your brain felt like it had become mush, thoughts jumbled, your nails desperately scratching his back. His right hand left your cheek to go tease your clit, and you felt tears pry at the corner of your eyes. "Tell me," he panted, still thrusting inside you with the same determination, "tell me about Jinx."  

You could have punched him.  

"You never stop, don't you ?" you snarled, seeing stars when the tip of his cock hit your cervix. "You-you'll have to fuck me harder than that, golden boy." The next thrust almost made you black out, his body against yours the only thing keeping you upright. "T-tell me, did the -ah- did the rest of the council peg your tight little ass? Is that why you-you're so upset they're dead ?"  

His eyes burnt into yours passionately, and you felt heat pool into your lower stomach.  

"Big words coming from someone with a cock in her."  

The fingers on your clit pinched down punishingly, and you felt a finger prod at your entrance alongside his cock. You could do nothing but scream as you came all over his cock and the tip of his index, screaming.  

"Shh, good girl, good job baby, shh…"  

He kissed your face gently and it took you a few seconds to realize it was wet with tears. He pulled out of you, growling as he gave his cock a few last pumps before he came all over your legs. He brought you slowly to the floor, and you collapsed against him, too tired to move on your own.   

"You didn't cum in me," you mumbled against his skin, and he looked down at you in confusion. "Were you… that scared you'd be stuck with a zaunite kid ?"  

You had meant it as a small jab, but something in what you said cut him much deeper than you expected. There was something horrified in his eyes, like you had learned his deepest secret and spat it back into his face.   

"You're wrong," he let out in a small, strangled voice. "I value zaunite children just as much as any other kids. I would never hurt a child, I never meant to-"  

He cut himself off, looking away for you not to see his face. The room was silent, and for a moment, you thought he might have been crying. You slowly got up, gathering the ripped pieces of your clothing around the cell and putting them back on as best as you could.  

"I dont know where Jinx is," you said finally, looking at his crouched form on the floor. He had seemed so big a few minutes ago, so powerful and enormous, that it was almost hard to believe you stood in front of the same man. "No one does. She doesn't get found, she finds you. And if she does, you're as good as dead."  

He let out a small defeated sound, still looking away, expression obscured.  

"You weren't going to tell me anything else from the start, were you ?"  

You didn't answer. Worldlessly, he reached inside his shirt, pulling out the small set of keys. He threw them without turning around, and you caught them with one hand.  

"If you take a left at the end of the corridor, you'll find a window big enough to crawl through. I'm guessing you'll be able to find your way after that."  

You hummed, opening the door to the cell before throwing a look back at him.  

"Won't they wonder why you just let me go ?"  

He laughed, bitter, empty gaze lost on the rock floor.  

"'They'? Who ?" he let out sourly. "I'm the only councilor left."  

You watched him silently; you had never felt pity for someone from Piltover. Maybe you had both learned something tonight.  

"You're much less impressive when you're crying, golden boy," you said softly. "You've worked under the assumption that you could find Jinx. You can't. But what you can do is make her come to you."  

He looked up at you in surprise, green eyes suddenly a little brighter.  

"…thank you."  

"Don't thank me. This was a business deal, nothing more," you threw back at him as you went up the creaky stairs, only stopping at the door to give him a final warning.

"Just hope you're ready when she comes, Jayce."

[streetdogsthecomic]

STREET DOGS - Character profiles #2

Buncha male characters I needed to make concept art for! Heres a lil info about each of em 👇

Nick (he/him) - Pyromancer Hunter - Son of a single and mechanic dad - Loves playing the guitar! Dreams of playing in a band someday

Jayce (he/him) - Sage Hunter - Has 2 pet cockatiels and a parrot - Very calm and nice, it's hard to have something against him

Ash (he/him) - Jade's friend, studies in her former school - Member of The Graveyard Kids band - Has an unrequited crush on Jade

Gabriel (he/him) - Cursed human, enslaved by a wizard - Does not remember anything about his past - Allergic to cats

Antônio Miguel AKA Miguel, Tony (he/him) - He's the one who rides the bus that picks up Hunters from Venatio Academy to bring them to the Bloodhound camp! - Has had a few Monster encounters in the past, hence the scars all over his body - Himbo on the low

Some of this info is still up to changes futurely, but thats the main ideas for now!

[balsamfir-fics]

On Companions(hip)

Pairing: Viktor x gn!reader

Genres: Fluff, tooth-rotting fluff, cat dad Vik, soft comfort, domesticity

Summary: Having a workaholic, unintentionally absentee significant other wasn't quite what you dreamed for yourself, but it sometimes had its perks -- the most important one of all being freedom. You leave Viktor to his own devices (literally) at the lab, and he leaves you alone to spend your after-work hours however you please.

One evening, he comes home to find that you've brought another handsome fellow into his household, one that you insist is here to stay whether Viktor likes it or not.

Word Count: ~1000

A/N: Viktor gets a cat. Enough said. Cross-posted to AO3.

Viktor's arrival is announced first by the thud of his workbag hitting the floor, and secondly by his wary, incredulous question: "what... is that?"

You glance at the front door from where you're tucked cozily into the couch, while you stroke the chin of your new, handsome side piece. For a brief second, you allow your eyes to meet his, forcing your gaze to seem entirely innocuous. Then you turn back towards the fireplace, not stopping your ministrations for the world, and privately smirk to yourself.

"Come on, Mr. Science. You know what this is."

The door shuts behind Viktor with a soft snick. Then you hear the muted clack of his favorite and well-word shoes, the drumbeat of his footsteps harmonizing with the tempo of his cane.

"I can see that it's a cat," he says, and the footsteps stop. You look up again, smiling slightly at him with that same fake-open look on your face. He tilts his head and shoulders slightly so to get a better look at the unexpected biological specimen in his living room. "And a rather large one, at that."

"Mister Tiny doesn't much appreciate your assessment of his size," you lilt, voice taking on the air of a butler relaying the words of your liege. Then you address the creature directly. "Don't you, Mister Tiny? Don't you?" The coo of your voice is saccharine-sweet, pulled an octave higher by your sheer delight. Mister Tiny doesn't mind the sudden affronting pitch to his sensitive ears, not when he gets an extra-intense round of cheek scritches in the process.

Viktor doesn't move. "That's very well," he says distractedly. "But why is it... here?"

You get up at that, standing with the (admittedly) rather heavy cat scooped into your arms. With careful steps you walk over to Viktor, eyebrows and the jut of your chin gesturing for Viktor to touchthedamnfluffythinghe'ssosoft, but the love of your life refuses to rise to the bait.

"Oh, come on," you sigh in mock exasperation. "I know you love animals, you big softie, I've seen you with the street dogs by the sewers and all the Academy stray cats. I just got you one of your own!"

This doesn't really answer his question that well; he knows you've wanted a pet in the house for quite some time, but he's forever been worried that he won't be able to take care of another life properly -- between his less-than-stellar health and his manic work environment, he's not really the type who can provide. But your words ring true; he has a soft spot for, well, soft things, and in the few times he's allowed himself some sunlight (not for a break -- heavens no -- but for thinking sessions, as those did not require pen nor paper nor chalk), he does seek out the various furry friends he's made over the years.

He likes company, truly. He's still astounded you haven't decided to break up with him yet, what with his terrible work hours (all self-imposed, mind you), but he supposed that he's been doing better. Before you, Viktor had only Jayce and Heimerdinger -- perhaps also a small collection of his admiring assistants at the university --so work and school provided him the companionship he so desired, and he camped out in the lab or in his office for most of his waking hours as a result. After he went out on a limb and very carefully asked if you might like to have dinner, you'd been by his side ever since and moved in at his request rather quickly. This incentivized him to be at home more often, forced him to shut his brain off and fully separate work from pleasure.

That being said, he hadn't expected a rather burly looking cat with the widest Cheshire grin to become his new housemate, and he worried immediately about the poor thing being alone while both of his caretakers left for their offices. It seemed... unwise to him, and you quickly pick up on the concern beginning to paint his features.

"Vik," you gentle, lifting up one of Mister Tiny's front paws to place it on Viktor's arm. "He goes for walks. That, and Jayce made him a pretty impressive cat tree with Hextech-powered robotic toys for him to play with while you two, I don't know, hunker down and scribble on chalkboards."

His eyes dart to you at that, then to the incredibly small paw denting his shirt. Against his better judgment, his heart melts, and Viktor reaches out a finger to stroke at the delicate fur on Mister Tiny's surprisingly small-for-his-size foot. You grin, knowing you've won, and knowing that Viktor will have company on the nights that he's in the lab alone -- when Jayce is way on Councilor duties.

"I may never come home to you if he's at the lab with me, you know," Viktor arches an eyebrow at you as he keeps stroking the small paw. He leans in close, angling his neck and pressing a pointed kiss under your jaw (Mister Tiny places his own paw on Viktor's cheek as he does this).

Cheeky, you think, and you hoist Mister Tiny up higher. "I'll believe that when I see it. You may be a workaholic, but Jayce tells me that as soon as you complete the goals you set for the day, you're out of there before he can blink. I mean, you tend to finish everything at near-midnight because you're an incredibly obnoxious perfectionist, but the lab has eyes, Vik -- and they know you can't get enough of me."

He ignores your assessment, presses a smacking kiss to the cat's head, then plucks the cat from your embrace to set him gently on the floor. You're immediately wrapped up into his arms, his body taking the vacancy left by Mister Tiny, and you hum in approval as Viktor squeezes you tight.

"What, not going to admit it aloud?"

He lets out scoff and shuts you up with a kiss.Having a workaholic, unintentionally absentee significant other wasn't quite what you dreamed for yourself, but it sometimes had its perks -- the most important one of all being freedom. You leave Viktor to his own devices (literally) at the lab, and he leaves you alone to spend your after-work hours however you please. One evening, he comes home to find that you've brought another handsome fellow into his household, one that you insist is here to stay whether Viktor likes it or not.

[alisha-on-arcane]

Zaun culture/ normal life/ setting headcanons

Headcanons I realised I have while writing this finished Vander/Silco revolution-and-betrayal fic.

- Zaunite parenting is quite communal, as a matter of culture. Kids typically run around the street together and are vaguely watched by all the adults present. Mixed families happen a lot simply because life is dangerous, and Zaunite adults are  expected to take on orphans if they are the best placed person to do so. This often segues into children working very young. Piltovan views on this cultural practice are considered classist slurs by Zaun patriots like Vander and Benzo. (Silco is, in this fic, in a league of his own when it comes to "thinking fucked-up things are okay" but it's not entirely his fault). - Zaunites use “brother”, “uncle”, “sister” etc in a very inclusive way that does not imply biological or necessarily even adoptive family relationship (which lots of real-world cultures do too).  Again, Piltovans assume this is because biological incest is very common in Zaun, which is not true and is an insensitive slur. (But every time Silco calls Vander “brother” in Arcane, apart from the last one, he’s spitting the word out because they were more than that and Vander is pretending they weren’t and he definitely does not want Vander back as more than brothers-in-arms, of course not, *hurt hiss*).  Though adoptive relationships are very much considered real family, so “sister” or “brother” can be used very literally in context.

- The Lanes is just one district of Zaun, specifically that controlled/ policed by Vander and Benzo as of Act 1. Vander is an influential figure in wider Zaun, but he's not necessarily the top dog. Silco set up his crime headquarters in Vander's pub after being implored to "spare the Lanes" in an act of pure spite by Silco. (And I love him for it). - Many Zaunites are day workers in Piltover. There is continual political tension between Piltovan business interests who rely on the cheaper labour (who are generally aligned with Zaunite interests on this), and those who would restrict or monitor access to Piltover from Zaun. The latter say that Zaunite criminals commit crimes in Piltover and run back to hide in the undercity, which is often true. - The air in the undercity is breathable to all but is a major driver of sickness and early death for Zaunites. The causes are both natural (fissure gases) and artificial (emissions from Zaun-owned chemtech factories and from other industrial activity that Piltover outsources to Zaun). It may have improved between Arcane Act 1 and 2; it's possible Silco did actually do some of the easier measures about reducing factory emissions (catalytic scrubbers, etc) or possibly the balance of industry in Zaun just changed a bit. - Zaunites who have not made body modifications/ been injured to ensure an asymmetrical appearance can pass as Piltovans quite easily with a change of clothes. This happens rarely enough that Piltovans don't expect it at all. Proud Zaunites wear asymmetrical clothes or at least have asymmetrical hair unless they are really, really up to something. - there is a group of Piltovans, mostly students, who protest peacefully for Zaun independence. It's mostly as ridiculous as you'd expect but I love them for trying. - The mines are probably not in central Zaun and not worked by voluntary day labourers. Jayce refers to them as “mining colonies” which sounds like a euphemism, and Silco says “the mines they had us in” (plus a writer saying on Twitter that he “grew up in the mines”) which gives us a very dark picture of what the mines might be like.

[smol-lydia]

After Hours: Viktor xFem!Reader

Summary: Standing on the freezing streets of Piltover, you’re having a hell of a shift trying to bring customers in to your club for drinks. You see a pair of Academy students headed your way--one is eager enough, but the other is much more of a challenge to win over, and you like a challenge. SFW, flirting, some slow burn set up, gonna get spicier in the next part  For @astudyincontrasts bc her fics give me life, and heavily inspired by gyaru subculture (I wear agejo gyaru regularly and agejo gyaru was synonmous with hostesses/hostess clubs in Japan for years) 

----

Your feet ache, and the evening chill that’s sweeping across the Piltover streets has you wishing you could curl up in a ball at home under your blankets in your small garret room rather than be out here on the cobblestones under a darkening sky. 

Unfortunately, you have a club to fill, customers to entertain, a wage to earn. Even if your boss skims far more off the top than he ought to given that you, and the rest of the girls, the hostesses, are the club. And thus far, the night has been a dud—well, at least for you. Rebuffed at every turn as you stand outside with your pink dress and your hair teased sky high in a half updo, falling in curls down your back. 

It’s difficult not to get discouraged as all the other hostesses walk into the club with wealthy Piltovans on their arms, smirking as you try not to shiver. You’re the only native Zaunite amongst them, and although you hold your head high, affect a voice that makes your accent disappear, you can’t help but wonder if the Pilties can sense it on you, no matter how you clean up. 

You take a deep breath, and square your shoulders. You aren’t the type to give up easily, especially not when this money feeds more than one hungry belly, every spare coin sent back to your family in the Lanes. Hostess clubs like the one you work at were nothing like the brothels of the Undercity. No touching allowed here; you are merely a pretty decoration to entertain bored businessmen, to drink with, make them feel better about themselves. 

Up ahead, you see a pair of young men: Academy students, based on the color of their shirts and waistcoats. One is stocky and muscular, with a handsome, chiseled face and warm brown eyes. Full lips and dark hair styled just so, his expression a cross between an endearing sort of puppy dog and the kind of spoiled playboy who had never been denied a single thing in his life. Typical Academy student, and the bitterness nips at you like the chilly weather. He would be easy bait, at least, and you could put up with him until he drank himself into oblivion. 

As the pair get closer, you take in Golden Boy’s companion. So unlike his friend in every way—tall and lanky, all thin lines and sharp angles, thick dark brows and unkempt, coffee colored hair that you have the inexplicable urge to run your fingers through. His expression is stoic, amber eyes flickering with a quiet intelligence. Long, slender fingers grip a cane and he has a slightly uneven gait, stiffness in one of his legs. 

He intrigues you despite your detachment from potential customers, Academy students especially, with their parents’ money to burn. The Golden Boy will be easy to reel in, you know. But this one—he’ll be a challenge, and you never back down from a challenge. 

As they approach you launch into your usual spiel, laying the charm on thick. Golden Boy seems taken in immediately, and tugs on his friend’s arm. 

“Come on, Vik.” 

“Jayce, we don’t have time for—“ 

That accent. You know that accent like the back of your hand. It’s the one you suppress when you work here, the cadence of your mother tongue, and you lock eyes with Golden Boy’s companion. His whiskey gaze meets yours briefly, and flits away, though from nervousness or disdain you aren’t certain. 

“First drink is on us,” you offer with a smile. 

Wink at your fellow Zaunite—Vik is his name, maybe, based on that snippet of conversation? Anyway, a slight flush dusts Vik’s cheeks, bringing much needed color to his pallor, and you can’t help but think how attractive he is. This is no good, of course. A job is a job, and you’re here for wages, not actual flirtations. 

“Well, can’t say no to that!” Golden Boy (Jayce?) claps you on the shoulder and leads you into the club. “We won’t be out all night, Viktor.” 

“You say that every time,” Viktor mutters, following up with a colorful insult in your shared language that Jayce clearly doesn’t understand but has you stifling a giggle. 

There’s only one table left; as the token Undercity girl you aren’t exactly the most popular member of the cast, and the others show this in a variety of small ways, including this one. A small table in the back, with dark plum velvet chaise lounges, cramped and with dim lighting. Furthest from the bar, hazy with shimmer smoke. Still, you’ll take what you can get and you settle yourself between Jayce and Viktor, legs crossed at the ankles. 

You turn to Jayce. “So what will you be drinking?” Your long, heavily decorated nails, sparkling with glitter and charms, running along his upper arm. You sense him shiver, though the spark is far from mutual. All part of the charade. 

“Let’s get a bottle of champagne,” Jayce says. “We ought to be celebrating.” He glances at Viktor, and you’re intrigued. 

“Celebrating?” You flag down one of the waiters and put in an order for one of the more expensive bottles. Jayce looks like he can afford it, at least. 

“Celebrating might be a bit premature,” Viktor says. 

“Viktor is just being modest,” Jayce replies, putting a hand on your knee. “But you’ll have a glass with me, won’t you, Miss…?” 

“Y/N,” you say, fluttering your lashes. You keep a careful eye on Jayce; there was always a fine line between these light touches for extra tips and the sort of thing that led to an escort out of the club by security. 

You turn your attention to Viktor. Unlike Jayce, who seems happily at home in such an environment, Viktor appears fundamentally out of his element, as though he would much rather be at a library. You understood, as much as it seemed like you didn’t. This sort of work was easy to come by, and you knew how to use your looks to your advantage. 

Would you have rather gone to the Academy? Of course, but not everyone’s Daddy could buy their way into such an institution. You find yourself wondering how Viktor ended up there, given his roots. 

Must have been a mixture of luck and the virtue of being a man. Piltover was notoriously sexist, and you were hardly taken seriously as anything other than a pretty face. Not to say there weren't women in power—there were several women on the Council—but they had the merit of being wealthy. You had neither. 

Viktor drums his fingers on his thigh, eyes darting around the busy club. Probably plotting his escape, and you’d be stuck with Jayce for the rest of the evening. 

Money aside, you find that you don’t want Viktor to leave. You haven’t cracked him yet, and your pride won’t allow for failure. It had nothing to do with how, at this close angle, you could see he had two beauty marks—one above his lip, one under his eye. That his hair was messier up close, as though he hadn’t brushed it in days. Fingers long and slender. Oh, he’ll be the death of you, the way your mind is running away with you already. 

You lean in towards him, breath warm on his neck as you whisper in his ear in your mother tongue, the one he had cursed in minutes earlier. “And what can I get you to drink, hm?” 

Dark brows raised, jaw dropped for a moment before he composed himself and that stoic mask was back on. You’ve caught him off guard. Good. 

“Medové víno,” he murmurs. Honey wine. 

A popular drink in Zaun if you could afford it, poured in spots like The Last Drop. Available in Piltover but not a common choice, and you get the sense he wouldn’t be ordering this if he didn’t understand where you come from. 

You give Viktor a genuine smile, not one of your customer service ones. “I’ll ask.” A brush of your fingertips against his, and this brief touch lights a fire in your belly, warmth traveling down to your feet. 

The waiter gives you an odd look when you ask for the honey wine, but mumbled something about finding it in the back. In the meantime, the champagne has arrived and Jayce hands a glass to you. 

“Drink with me, Y/N!” 

You smile and take the glass. It’s lucky you have a high tolerance—one of the things that keeps you in this line of work. Unlike some of the other hostesses, who show up the next day still drunk, or unable to keep up with rowdier customers. 

Jayce offers some to Viktor who shakes his head. 

“Come on, Vik. We gotta toast,” Jayce insists. 

Viktor reluctantly takes the glass offered. 

“A toast to what?” You ask. 

“Progress. Discovery.” Jayce sneaks a sly glance at you. “Pretty girls.” 

You nearly choke on your drink when you hear Viktor mutter under his breath. “Připiju si na to.”

I’ll drink to that.

Now you’re the one who’s blushing, every nerve ending on fire. No, no, no. He’s not supposed to be turning the tables on you like this. You’re the flirt, the one playing all the cards. One Academy student shouldn’t have you flustered like this. You pass it off as the drink, though champagne does little to you. 

Jayce, you quickly learn, is a lightweight. By the time the waiter returns with Viktor’s honey wine, Jayce has challenged you to a drinking game you know you can win easily, though by the look in his glassy eyes he thinks he can best you. 

“Would you like some, Miss Y/N?” Viktor offers you his glass for a taste, and you look at him over the polished rim. 

“Just a little, thank you.” The honey wine tastes like home, and maybe you’re imagining it but you swear Viktor is staring at your lips as you tip the glass, dropping his gaze when you hand it back to him. 

You can’t help yourself—your hands linger slightly longer than necessary when you hand him his drink again. It’s almost nothing, but these small touches are more addicting than the pills and powders that get passed around in the dressing room after hours. 

You keep telling yourself it’s nothing. But as you beat Jayce at the drinking game, two bottles of champagne later, you catch Viktor’s looks more than once. At your face. Your hair. The way your pink dress, with the sweetheart neckline and corset style bodice, shows off your cleavage to its full advantage. 

“Another!” Jayce slurs, waving his money clip around. 

You aren’t one to refuse a client willing to throw their cash around, but you lean back against the couch anyway to whisper in Viktor’s ear once again. You speak quietly and in your shared language, though Jayce is so far gone he likely wouldn’t understand what you were saying anyway. 

“Between you and me,” you say, “I am not supposed to refuse a paying customer. But I don’t particularly wish to saddle you with…” you wave a hand. “A mess.” 

Viktor sighs. “It wouldn’t be the first time, Miss y/n.” 

You shrug. “Still. You got roped into this.” You frown. “I'm sorry.” You’re not quite sure why you feel compelled to apologize. 

He gives you a small smile. “It’s quite alright.”

“Doesn’t seem to be your scene,” you say. 

Viktor polishes off the last of the honey wine. “Perhaps not.” A pause, and he seems almost….bashful under his dark brows. “I can’t say I regret it, however.” 

Your heartbeat picks up and you feel weak and dizzy, as though you were the messy drunk of the three. “And…why would you say that?” 

You sound like a complete idiot, Janna help you. 

Viktor shrugs and doesn’t answer, and takes a look back over at Jayce. “I ought to get him back before he becomes dead weight.” 

You nod, your silly little hopes dashed and the dark mood comes over you like a sudden storm. “Of course. I’ll close you out.” 

Viktor stands up, grabbing his cane, and helps Jayce to his feet, who is singing one of the drinking chants you taught him over the course of your little competition. 

“Have a good night!” 

You put on the cheeriest smile you can manage, but you feel hollow, as though your insides have been scooped out. Maybe you will get a little fucked up tonight, hangover be damned. You’ll never see Viktor again, no matter how badly you want to. 

Jayce leaves a fat tip, which you slip into your bra, and you don’t fail to notice Viktor watching your hands disappear down your dress. Lanky bastard. 

“Miss y/n…?” 

“Yes.” Your tone is clipped. Professional. No feelings here, no sir. 

“What time do you finish tonight?” Viktor seems to realize his inadvertent double entendre, and is bright red from his neck to the tips of his ears. It’s endearing, sweet, really. “Your shift. I mean.” He runs his hand through his hair, and you notice that it’s shaking. 

“2 am.” 

“Would it be alright…” He bites his lower lip. “Would you like to get something to eat? So you don’t…you aren’t…hungover.” 

His concern for you, someone he barely knows, softens the facade you’ve put up. Damn him—he truly will be your undoing, in more ways than one. 

You’re not supposed to fraternize with customers. But what the boss didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him, and you never had any desire to do so until this moment. 

You nod. “I’d like that.”

You are rewarded with a genuine smile, and you know in that moment you would do anything to get Viktor to smile like that again. “I’ll see you then, Miss y/n.” 

You watch them both leave the club, and settle back onto the chaise, surrounded by empty glasses and bottles. 2 am couldn’t come fast enough. 

[thedreamlessnights]

I’ve found hope in a heart attack

{chapter one} - {chapter two} - {chapter three} - {chapter four} - {chapter five} - {chapter six}

Viktor x F!Reader Modern AU (Eventual NSFW)

Synopsis: As your ankle heals, you and Viktor spend more time together. Jayce wants to know how the trip is going.

Warnings: yearning.

A/N: Sorry if this chapter seems a little mild. The next two really start to pick up 👀

Word count: 3.5k

In the darkness when you wake, panic is drowning you. It eats at your lungs, drags its fingers around your throat. You’re late, it whispers, words hot against your ear. The sheets seem to choke you as you scramble up, only to be met with a shooting pain in your ankle. You crumple down against the bed.

That’s right. You’re not late - there’s nowhere to be.

It’s been years since you’ve woken without something pressing on your mind. It feels unnatural, as if a gap is in your thoughts. Still, the warmth of the sheets is calling out to you, and you’re back within their comforts within seconds.

There’s something else here that’s new, but it meshes more organically against you - peace. No honking cars or slamming doors, no overhead footsteps at five in the morning, no barking dogs or sirens wailing against the streets. It’s quiet.

Then again, it’s not. All around you, silent life is teeming, sounds that only appear with concentration. The dulcet chirping of the birds, the wind moving through the trees, the water that steadily drips from the roof.

It’s always been a dream to do what you do for a living, but you can’t deny the dull ache that slowly disperses through your chest. A part of you wants this forever. Steady, small living - growing the food you eat, your hands working the earth to create. It seems you have a thousand dreams for a thousand lifetimes. If only you could have them all.

If only you could even have one fully. Living your dream is not what you’d chalked it up to be.

It’s almost funny how your biggest accomplishment has also become your own personal itinerary of pain, ruled day after day by Viktor. How you’d grown up, dreaming day after day of working in a lab, only to have your thoughts corrupted by the sight of golden eyes on the first day. If he wasn’t so endearing, you would hate him for that.

Is he awake yet? It’s still quiet out, but he’s always been good at sneaking around, silently moving around the lab even with his cane. You can’t count the number of times that you’ve jumped a foot in the air when his voice came right behind you, asking for something or other.

He should be sleeping. Viktor is the definition of a man tortured by his work, resting in the lab more than he does at home. It’s never uncommon to enter the lab in the mornings and find Viktor scrawling away, his hair mussed, and his clothes from the day before wrinkled.

In rarer cases, you’ve found him still asleep, cheek pressed into his desk. You always tried to let him rest when that happened, working in silence until he woke, an angry mark imprinted into where he lay. You never said anything about it, and neither did Jayce, but it took everything you had not to brush your thumb against the impression of the desk and beg him to take the day off.

It’s strange to think about now, but Jayce had been like that in the beginning too. So utterly devoted to his work that nothing else seemed to matter, even himself. That had only shifted when he’d gotten with Mel - leaving early, taking days off, even planning group vacations. He might as well have been a new man, for all he’d changed.

Still… ever since you’d gotten the cancellation text, you can’t erase the sneaking suspicion that he’d backed out on purpose. He’s always nudging you two together, pairing you together for certain aspects of your projects, making a stray comment or two. He never seemed to see your glares.

A bonding trip. Was that what Jayce had wanted? Had he really gone out of his way to book all activities for three people, then not show? Logic says no, but your knowledge of Jayce is suggesting yes more and more.

No way to prove it, though.

When sleep seems to have faded from your body, replaced by boredom, you get up. A warm bath is calling your name.

One problem - your ankle. It’s still painful to put weight on, but you’re not exactly about to ask Viktor to help you get into the bath. Hobbling over the tub doesn’t seem to work, though. Instead, you resort to scooting across the room on your ass, feeling incredibly stupid. Thank God Viktor can’t see you like this.

When you get to the tub, you pull yourself up and settle on the edge of the tub, blowing a strand of hair out of your face before you switch on the water. When it runs hot, you plug the drain and let the water fill, trying to get everything settled.

Which means more scooting. Luckily, Jayce’s finer tastes seem to be showing themselves here. There are bath salts under the sink. Shampoo, conditioner, lotion, a hairdryer, multiple fluffy towels…

“Jesus, Jayce,” you murmur. Still, you grab the bath salts and dump a good amount into the water, stirring them in with your fingers. Nothing wrong with treating yourself every once in a while, you figure. When the tub is adequately filled, you shut off the water and ease your aching body in, letting out a sigh as the warmth envelops you.

A bathtub is a luxury you haven’t enjoyed in years. Your small apartment only has a shower, something that hasn't bothered you because you hardly spend time there anyway. But this? Maybe you really are missing out. You haven’t felt this relaxed in years.

There’s no telling how long you sit there, letting the water ease the tightness out of your tense muscles. Only when the water becomes lukewarm do you finally drain the tub and get out, wringing the wetness out of your hair before you get dressed.

Working around your ankle is a Herculean task. Putting on your pants is slaying the Nemean lion. Trying to limp out to put your dirty clothes in a hamper could be compared to stealing the mares of Diomedes. Making your way out into the living room to grab some ice? That’s capturing Cerberus, and not because of your ankle. It’s because Viktor is sitting at the table.

He looks… relaxed. More than you can ever say you’ve seen him, so vacation must be doing him good. He’s wearing a red knit sweater, a loose strand of hair falling into his eyes as he works on something. Don’t stare, you urge yourself, slowly making your way past him, into the kitchen to grab the ice. You hear the click of his cane against the floor just a second before you hear him speak.

“Let me,” he says, his voice much closer than you anticipated. “Go sit down.”

A moment later, you feel the warmth of his breath on the back of your neck. You are blocking the freezer, but does he really have to stand that close? Your thoughts have become loose, dissipated, like static.

“Fine,” you murmur, but it sounds airy and breathless, not firm like you’d meant it to. You limp back to the couch, gently stretching your leg out on a pillow as you sit.

When Viktor returns, setting down his cane so that he can apply the ice, you can’t meet his eyes.

“You do know that you are allowed to ask for help sometimes?” he asks, his tone teasing and light.

“You were working,” you tell him, eyes fixed on your hands. “I didn’t want to interrupt.”

“On a crossword puzzle,” Viktor says. “Next time, please ask me for assistance.”

Your face grows warm, warmer still when you find that he’s watching you. “I’ll ask for help next time,” you confirm, and he seems satisfied with that.

He returns to his puzzle, and there’s only so much time that you can sit in silence with nothing to do before you go crazy.

“How’s the crossword going?”

Viktor frowns, twirling his hair around his fingers as he thinks. “I think I am… stuck on this one.”

You crane your neck as if that might possibly help you to see his paper from how far you are. “What’s the prompt?”

“Three letters. Starts with ‘E,’ and… it’s another meaning for ‘before.’”

You think for a moment, rattling your brain for an answer. Then, your college reading class comes to the rescue. “Oh!” you say suddenly. “Ere. E-R-E. Like in Shakespeare. ‘I will do anything, Nerissa, ere I’ll be married to a sponge.’”

Viktor writes it down. “Are you going to help with the others?” he asks.

“Are you going to keep sitting all the way over there?”

He huffs, gathering the puzzle and his pencil and tucking it under his arm before he grabs his cane and walks over to the couch.

You shift, moving your injured leg to the opposite side so that he can sit next to you.

Part of you wonders if he really needs help on this. The other part of you wants to bury your face into his sweater and breathe in that goddamn cologne, spiced and warm, intoxicating.

Instead, you tuck a hand under your chin and help him finish the rest of the puzzle. You try not to focus on the fact that his smile grows more and more as it goes on, or the way that his eyebrows crease together when he thinks. Or how close the two of you are sitting, and this time with no cramped train seating to blame.

It hurts. Wanting him has always been anxious, awkward, trying to press your feelings down and acting like they don’t exist. But this is raw, a throbbing in your ribs that only seems to get stronger. What you wouldn’t give to have him want you back, to just have him touch you.

It seems you have a knack for wanting things you can't have.

When the crossword is finished, Viktor sets it down and sighs, stretching his arms back before resting them behind his head and closing his eyes.

“Did you sleep at all last night?” you ask him. You’re only teasing, but he frowns.

“Yes,” he answers, eyes still shut, “but it doesn’t look like you did.”

“Well, that’s just not true. I slept like a baby.”

“Babies cry all night, don't they?” he replies. “Is that your argument?”

You blink. “You know, I’ve never thought about that. Where does that phrase come from?”

“Every language is strange in their own way,” he says, his words drawing a smile over his lips.

That smile does something to you. It spills warmth inside of you, twists up your mind until you can’t stop your thoughts. Until you inevitably ask something stupid. Something you probably shouldn’t.

“Do you ever miss speaking Czech? Regularly, I mean?”

There’s a beat before he answers.

“Why do you ask?”

“Just curious, I guess.” You’re dying to know what he’s thinking, but his eyes are closed, and his face is only giving so much away.

“Yes,” he says, his tone hushed, brows scrunched into thought. “I miss it. Being here can be… isolating, sometimes.”

“Would it help if I learned?”

Apparently, your brain still isn’t recovered enough to stop asking stupid questions. Viktor’s eyes open as he turns to look at you.

“You’d… want to learn?” he asks, his tone softer than you’d expected it to be.

“Well, I - yes. Maybe.”

“Perhaps I’ll teach you,” he tells you, closing his eyes again. “If we have time around the lab.”

“That’d be nice,” you reply. Sinking into the couch again, he inhales deeply and goes quiet.

You can’t think of anything else to say, so you follow his lead and close your eyes. Sure, it’s ten in the morning, but there’s nothing wrong with a nice nap. You’re on vacation after all.

Except that you can’t sleep. Not at all, not after Viktor just insinuated that the two of you would be spending more time together around the lab. Your heart is racing, pounding steadily through your chest as you think.

As time goes on, it eventually slows to a consistent thud, relaxing at the same rate as your breathing. Speaking of breathing, you can hear Viktor’s. The soft rise and fall of his chest. Your eyes open but you force yourself to focus on anything other than him - not an easy task. You’re not going to stare at him while he sleeps, though. That might as well be an entry in a book titled “Being a Creep 101.” Out of everything you can manage, the least you can do is respect him.

You wish you had your phone, but you left it in the bedroom. Your book, too. Part of you considers trying to go get it, but you know well enough that any major movement will wake Viktor up, and it will only lead to more scolding.

Boredom starts to eat you alive, a seemingly common thread today. You count the number of leaves on the plants that you can see through the window. The seconds, ticking away. Five minutes spent on trying to recall the amount of times that Viktor has spoken Czech in the lab. It’s not that many. You settle on eight separate instances that you can recall, but you’re an unreliable narrator.

Eight times over a year. No wonder he feels isolated.

Eventually, you close your eyes again. Viktor must not have slept well last night, despite his protests of the opposite. If he had, why would he fall back asleep so early? Your eyes fall to him for a moment, peaceful. You can’t be the only one who wants him.

Actually, no - you know you aren’t. You’ve seen the people who pine after him, floating in to ask him stupid questions. To ask him out to dinner. Beautiful women throwing themselves at him only to be politely declined, Viktor’s cheeks flushing red as he turns away. How are you ever supposed to believe he wants you back, when that’s your competition?

How are you ever supposed to believe he wants you back, when you think of how cold he’d been when you’d first started? God, those first few months. You don’t like to think about that often, but you ponder over it now. You’ve nothing better to do.

When you’d first started in the lab, Viktor had been… withdrawn. Almost uncharacteristically so. Granted, he’d been polite, but nothing more. Never talking to you unless he had to, barely acknowledging your presence unless you spoke to him directly. If you and Jayce went out to the kitchen to grab food, he never came. He read through your work, but only in complete silence, the scribbling of his pen on your notes driving you insane. Living like that when you’d liked him so much - it had been a knife in the chest, sinking deeper every day.

Then one day, it was like it never happened. Any coldness Viktor had melted away like it never existed at all. He’d strike soft conversations with you, give you advice for your projects, even tease you, occasionally. You’ve no idea what sparked the change.

For the longest time, it’d driven you out of your mind. Grateful that he was talking to you, yes, but searching for an explanation in his eyes every day. And every day, being met with nothing but amber irises.

Eventually you figured that he just had to warm up to you. It’s something that made sense, among confusion. The coldness had been brief, and he’d worked with Jayce for years before you came into the picture, so it was only reasonable that he’d have to adjust to a new person. Once it was over, it never happened again. Maybe you both were a little awkward, and you weren’t exactly close, but you were friends.

The hurt of that experience had faded away as time went on, as the months in the lab spun into a year. But in the quiet of the night when you can’t sleep, in those deep hours where everything seems to scrape against your mind like metal screeching against ceramic, it nags at you. Gets under your skin, worms its way through your veins. The never ending question of why. It sits on the tip of your tongue until you swallow it down.

But most of all, it whispers at you things you don’t want to hear. That you annoy him. That he never really wanted to come on this trip. That, maybe, the only reason Viktor had ever talked to you at all was because of Jayce.

You can only hope it isn’t true.

The next few days are slow. You gradually ease into more comfort with Viktor - conversation comes easier, but being around him doesn’t. If anything, your pining only gets worse the more you get to know him. He’s so quick-witted, so snarky, so achingly endearing.

He picks up groceries from the store and makes food for the two of you, checks in on your ankle, always keeping it with fresh ice. At night, he insists on helping you to bed. You rest a hand on his shoulder to help balance your weight, assuring him that you’ll be alright.

Turns out there’s a bookstore not far from the cabin, so on the second day of being confined to sitting, Viktor comes back with a variety of books that he’d claimed were on sale, but you doubt his honesty. Still, you devour them, anxious for any form of escapism that you can possibly get.

On the third day of confinement, Jayce calls you. You’re so startled you almost decline it before you come to your senses and answer, holding up the phone to show Viktor, who scoots closer to you.

“Hello?” you say.

“Hey! How are you guys? How’s the break?” Jayce asks.

“Hang on, let me put you on speaker,” you tell him, and you do. “Alright, what’s up!”

“Just wanted to check in with you guys! Is the place okay?”

You snort. “It’s ridiculous, Jayce. But very nice.”

“What’s a vacation without a nice getaway?” Jayce says, and you can hear the smile in his voice. “What about the other things? The bus tour, the dinner? Did they go alright?”

You and Viktor share a glance. “Actually, we uh… we didn’t go,” you say.

There’s a beat. “You’re joking,” Jayce replies.

“Wait, it wasn’t on purpose or anything. I sprained my ankle on the train - I can’t walk. Viktor rescheduled them for the last few days of the trip.”

“Sprained your ankle? How’d you do that?”

“I tripped,” you answer, your voice faded. Viktor is sitting very close to you, his gaze focused on you instead of the phone. When you raise your eyebrows at him, his eyes flit downward, giving you an almost imperceptible shake of the head.

You want to ask him what’s going on, but you’re forced to focus on Jayce, rambling about the next vacation he has planned for the three of you.

“I was thinking,” he says, “that maybe I could bring Mel next time?”

“Oh,” you blurt, almost stupidly. This time, you’re the one who stares at Viktor. You get along with Mel just fine, but there’s been a few times that Viktor and Mel have gotten into… disagreements. Pretty big ones.

“That’d be fine,” Viktor says, voice tight. He clears his throat.

“Yeah, I’d love to have her,” you add quickly.

“I’m really glad to hear that,” Jayce says, relief flooding his voice. “I mean, I just want her to get to know you guys better, you know?”

Tension has made its way into Viktor’s jaw, telling you that he very much does not want to get to know Mel any better than he does now.

“Yes,” he says distantly, “I’m sure that would be… fun.”

He’s not very convincing, but Jayce doesn’t seem to hear anything off.

“Alright,” he says, “I’ll let you two enjoy your vacation, I just wanted to check in and see how you were doing.”

“It’s been good, Jayce. Thanks a lot,” you say.

“You guys need it,” Jayce tells you. “See you when you get back.”

“Bye.”

The phone call ends, and you find yourself staring at Viktor. He won’t look at you, though. Instead, he gets up, heading over to the kitchen.

“So… Mel, huh?” you ask, tilting your head as you watch him take things out of the fridge.

“Yes. I’m sure that will be…” He fades off, hesitating on a word. Then he shakes his head. “Don’t. You already know that I am not a… fan. It will be fine.”

“You won’t be alone,” you point out. “I’ll rescue you from anything that’s too awful.”

You’re expecting a smile, maybe a loose chuckle, but all he does is look at you the way he did earlier. Something hidden behind the intensity of his eyes. Something you’re dying to know.

“Viktor-” you start, but he’s already turned away.

“Are you hungry?” he asks. “I’ll make us breakfast.”

“Yeah,” you say softly, disappointment gathering in your stomach. “Yeah, sure.”

You can’t shake the feeling that he’s keeping something from you.

tags: @mischievous-piltovian @scorpio-echo @shamoane @moonlight-silent @pingas030

[caspercryptid]

hey hi since u are feelin the jailco vibes i am thinking of maybe a modern au (or not, up to u) where silco finds jayce’s dog and sees missing posters around and calls jayce like “hello i have your very sweet and friendly dog please take it back immediately” asdfghkljx

Sorry this... uh. Took a month? it took a month. That's okay. Self care.

___ It’s.....a puppy.

Silco narrows his eye, rubs his face, looks again. It is still a puppy. It’s still a puppy with a collar tangled on the ornate edge of a park bench, looking filthy and doing it’s clumsy best attempts to free itself. It’s not even crying out, not whining or barking. It looks stupidly and genuinely unaware of the predicament it’s found itself in, doing its best to start running and tugged to a halt by the collar, looking around like it might find an answer somewhere in front of it, and then doing it again.

Silco watches it for a minute, half waiting for it to free itself and run off and render itself not his problem, but no, it seems determined to stay stuck. It isn’t even twisting its head. It just seems determined to repeat the same thrusting little tug like that’s going to work the fiftieth time. As Silco watches, it gives up and just... lies down.

And alright, he’s not entirely coldhearted.

He goes over, bends to free its collar, notes distantly that the little ring that’s supposed to bear the tag seems to have snapped. He’ll have to hope it’s chipped—

The dog licks his hand and affectionately rams his leg, and Silco sighs.

No good deed goes unpunished.

—-

Jayce is putting up the 110th lost dog poster when his phone rings, and he nearly drops the stack of papers in his haste to get to his phone (which, letting the wind get them would certainly be one way of distributing them, but Viktor had already nixed that plan)

He doesn’t manage to get out even the first syllable or sound of his Hello before the voice at the other end snaps—

“Your dog.”

“You found mercury?” Jayce asks, relieved.

“Obviously. You need to come retrieve him.”

Jayce isn’t sure what facial expression he’s making, but Caitlyn looks over from where she’s putting up a poster across the street and raises her eyebrows, and he gives her a thumbs up and points to his phone, which is too much time for his caller, apparently, who goes on—

“If he weren’t potty trained you’d be paying for my dry cleaning. You should take better care of your pets.”

“I’m— sorry.” Jayce says, wincing, meaning it. “The clip on the leash snapped and then I fell trying to go after him. He’s been well behaved, though?”

“Apart from a strong dislike of perfumes, yes.”

Jayce pauses. “—perfumes?”

“He got wiggly about the models. I’m a fashion designer and he attempted to jump out of my arms to escape one of my more.... Fragrant. Employees.”

Jayce squints into the middle distance, picturing the owner of the rough voice carrying around his tiny little puppy. “—Oh.” He says, and then, because he has no impulse control— “Hey what do you look like?”

“I beg your pardon.”

“Just to— sorry, that’s rude. I didn’t think anyone would.... Take him to work.”

“Well I could hardly leave him in my apartment. It’s not puppy-safe.”

Jayce grins a little. “Thank you.”

“Thank me by coming to get the dog.”

“Ah, yes, right—”

Jayce was really looking forward to meeting this guy.