James Knotted The Rope As Tight As He Could. The Fraying Fibers Cut Into Peter’s Shoulders Like Twine

merlin in an au where arthur, gwen, and the knights know about merlin’s magic.

gwen and arthur’s wedding is coming up, but merlin hears of a plan to raid the wedding (idk, maybe they’re mad that neither a royal or a proper suitor is getting the queen title, or something or another against arthur for extinguishing the ban on magic). but, either way, something’s going on.

merlin panics. he doesn’t know who is behind it, he doesn’t have time to figure it out, and canceling the royal wedding that close without explanation would be suspicious and cause a big ruckus within the kingdom and with the visitors from other kingdoms.

so, he impersonates gwen and magicks the coup away like they were nothing. (note: we’re talking FULL coverage. gloves, thick veil, long gown. in fact, it’s frankly embarrassing that the goons didn’t catch onto the fact that ‘gwen’ was suspiciously overdressed for the warm weather)

and something about the sight of merlin in a pretty gown, his hair wild from dramatically revealing himself to the would-be assassins (and also so that he could see where he was aiming his hands), and seething absolute wrath that they would even think that they could get away with even touching his king and queen.

it changes something in the trio’s relationship…

once again, if this already exists, GIVE IT TO ME. feed me my gwurther sedatives.

CHAPTER THREE - link here

@ali-kaaaay @riotroast @littlemeangreen

zaundad’s au where vander is taken by the enforcers after turning himself in for the explosion.

something about miscommunication and saving violet from turning herself in.

after the fact, vander’s territory is crumbling and benzo is holding water in his hands trying to pick up the pieces. silco hears and quickly catches on that maybe vander had a point in what he was doing. because at least his betrayal of cahooting with grayson was buying them time. and now zaun is dividing itself into shards of shattered pottery. and every thing is going to shit because there’s no one keeping all the ducks in a row.

and silco doesn’t really forgive vander, but after getting a tip about how he’s fighting for his life in stillwater, it makes him get a little crazy and protective. so much so that he actually finds himself considering forgiving the bastard. which ensues a ton of loathing and journal worthy emotions as he plans to save his stupid fucking soulmate that he literally hates with every bone in his body.

but he has violet knocking at his door just when he’s about to make the decision to either leave the hound to the wolves, or take vander’s place himself. and she’s so much wiser than her years, and she’s so blunt and courageous, that it reminds him of the way vander would protect them in the mines and during protests. using his brute strength and tuff demeanor to steer away danger. how he would shield them and barter their way through problems.

here was this young girl trying to act ten times her size and fill the same hole the silco himself had been trying so hard to fill. she was so angry that vander had chosen her over everything, and THAT made silco stop for a while. it made him almost jealous.

because vander has chosen everything over him. vander had chosen to act on his violence and guilt and he’d chosen felicia and piltover and the kids over silco.

so, anyway, just silco being pulled in two opposite directions as he tries to save vander from deteriorating in prison for protecting his daughter.

based on this post of mine

link here

is it smart to work on three projects at the same time? maybe not!! but that won’t stop me.

part three of this - moses!viktor au - part 1 - part 2

prepare for a BIG time jump from the other two (lol). i’m still contemplating a title. leaning towards “Bitter Water Made Sweet” though. feel free to leave a suggestion! :)

The streets of The Lanes smelled of tar and sulfur dioxide. Viktor’s staff made fragmented sparks erupt each time it hit the cobble of the empty street.

It was very early morning. But, not early enough to stop the three or so families and four or so dwellers from peeking out their windows and doors to watch him as he slowly waded through the slightly flooded road. The saturated bottom hem of his viridian cloak stuck to his ankles with each new step.

He caught the eye of a little girl, her hair the color of the small gophers that he’d occasionally catch building by the river. Her eyes were bright like wheat in the sunlight. She stood all alone. He paused.

She smiled, and she sprung to life under his pointed attention, sprinting as fast as her short legs could carry her. Her hands clenched around fistfuls of the cotton fabric draped over his shoulders. She did not speak.

“What is your name?” he asked her, holding out a hand.

She stared at his palm and wrist, taking in the lapis lazuli, mauve, and gold that spun through his veins and tendons. Her mouth opened in awe, delicately taking his hand in order to inspect it further. She was mystified, and just for a moment, all his panicked worries melted away. She giggled, looking back up to meet his fond gaze.

“Isha.” The name had appeared his head with such a sudden intensity, that he was not surprised in the least when she nodded in amazement. He bent down, using his staff to balance his weight. “Do you believe in the land of milk and honey?”Isha’s chopped hair flipped up and down like flimsy spikes as she nodded. She nearly buzzed with energy. Like a battery in an engine. Or a wind up toy. He hummed, nodding as well. “Very well, follow me.”

She hid inside of his cloak, hiding herself from the sprinkling raindrops. She shivered, her bare arms full of goosebumps.

His smile faltered, and they continued on with her glued to his hip. Her hand stuck to his own, occasionally tugging the limb up to her eyes to further admire the shimmering details of magic through his skin.

It was easy to tell that she was an orphan. Especially under his own scrutiny. She was thinner than the other children, and unkempt in a way no Zaunite mother would have allowed. Her hair was slightly grown out and braided. But, the plaits were frizzy and loose from passing time. She wore patchy pants and a fraying shirt barely holding onto its seems.

When they arrived to the boarded up bar, Isha made a short noise of protest, tugging on his tunic. It draped to his calves, an ivory white like bare bone. Her fingerprints left dark spots from the soot. He ruffled her hair, the texture like straw from the dust of Zaun’s alleyways.

“Don’t you trust me?” he asked her. She looked apprehensive, but she did not leave his side. Her loyalty was strong. Her curiosity even stronger.

The dark clouds hiding what lay beyond the doors only grew darker when they drew nearer. They resembled storm clouds, and one would almost believe that they’d send out bolts of lightening if you drew too close. Mel was distressed.

He bowed for Isha to go ahead of him, his fingertips innocently brushing the dense mist. It was pleasantly toasty, a comfort away from the freezing temperature outside.

Isha steeled herself, sending her shoulders back in stern determination that brought amusement to his own chest. She stomped her way right through the splintering arch of the doorway.

He took one final glance at the sign still hung on its lonely chain, and found himself mildly surprised at the symbol painted in glinting silver over where a business title would be.

A silvery serpent twisted in a vertical, curvy zig-zag pattern, hissing at the onlooker. He also took note, upon further inspection, that there were wings on either side, meager but strong in the way they curled. Its eyes shun green when he looked away, humming in pleasure at the familiar embrace of Mel’s magic gracing his skin.

He supposed he should have been offended at the lack of confusion she confronted him with. Instead, he joined her in the center of the room, sliding down to the blood red carpet she sat on.

Her dress was modest, no patterns or showy cuts. But, it was a deep amber. If he were vain, he’d say it was the color of his eyes. But, he didn’t have to admit vanity to believe that she looked radiant. Her knuckles showcased pink scars that matched his own, etched symbols of an ancient language.

Isha had dramatically fallen into the mountain of pillows that Mel and Viktor used as a resting spot when exhaustion finally grew too intense to bare. Or, the despair.

Her hand linked with his own, “Any news?”

“He is in Piltover.” He did not address Mel’s crestfallen expression at such a statement. And he stated the rest even though he knew he didn’t have to. “He seems to think that you are behind the Black Rose’s schemes. He doesn’t act like himself.”

He stood back up, dragging himself away from her waves of emotion. She was angry, something that tended to soak into his own skin and burn.

He unclasped the iron wings over his jugular notch. His fingers shook slightly as he bent down and draped the dry side of the cloth over the child. She was almost asleep, her eyes already closed and face smoothed out by the time he was standing straight again.

“We need to intervene.” Mel beckoned him back, holding a hand out for him to take. He obeyed, being careful of his askew leg as he joined her once again.

As they sat in considering silence, he wished to make a spot for himself in the cushions as well. His body did not feel the urge to rest, but his heart pulled him in too many directions at once, and he felt it most prominent in this turmoil.

“It will be necessary,” he admitted, “His influence is beginning to strain the faith of the Trenches as well.”

Mel’s lips twisted in a grimace, “Perhaps he was always too weak.” Viktor surveyed her in quiet, his own lips pursed in slow comprehension. “We should continue on without him. I will sever the connection entirely.” She sat straighter, not once glancing up to acknowledge any of Viktor’s shock or disbelief. He took her other hands back as she closed her eyes in order to focus. They flew open.

The pads of his thumbs flattened out the strain of her clenched fists. He sighed at the same time she did.

“Have mercy on him. He does not know better.”

“We trusted better from him,” she argued.

He battled with himself. The faith that had been mentioned previously, the belief they had gained from most of Zaun, was torturing him. Because he was selfish. He was not simply loyal to the cause anymore. It all boiled down to his Mel and his Jayce. The world be damned. The Black Rose be damned. He would rather burn at the stake, or rot in the basement of Stillwater, or drown in the Goddamned Pilt, than give up on either of them.

“He is just a man. A man who acts on instinct, no matter how flawed it might be. He deserves another chance. He has never let us down before.”

He’d grovel at Mel’s feet to give Jayce a second chance. He’d plea and debate until he ran out of breath. He’d comfort them both through the betrayal of it. Mourn the unfairness in his own solitude.

She crossed her arms, looking him all over. Her eyes traveled from the curls of gold and copper wire around strands of his overgrown hair to the rusty iron anklets that jingled around his ankles when he moved.

“And why is that?” Her chin was tilted up, her brows furrowed. She looked a little wild. Her hair stuck up around the crown of her head, like static caused during a storm. Her tunic draped off of one shoulder, showing the soft skin of her clavicle. Her stockings had holes from where she had poked holes while stewing in her stress. He realized with a slight start, that he had been away for three days on his trek to Topside.

Her eyes burned like gas that which met flame. She was filled with an abundance of wrath and disappointment towards the third link to their souls. He felt a strange sense of pity.

“You are not strong enough to rush the plan, Anděl.” He caresses her cheek, tucking one of the braids behind her ear when it slipped into her eyes. He noted that he’d have to retouch them.

“The Rose is the least of my worries,” she waved his concern off.

“I would not be so sure of that,” he warned.

“They are cowards using Jayce as a pawn. And he is just as bad while allowing them to.”

“I do not think—“

“—And how does he believe for a second that they could be me? I would not carry on without you Viktor, what makes him think—.”

“—He is under the assumption that we are dead. As far as I could tell, he’s just happy to have someone.” He brought her face closer, nose to nose as the realization dawned on her.

After a long time, she spoke to him in a broken whisper.

“Go to him, Viktor, my presence will be with you.”

“Camelot’s Waiting”

(merthur dabble)

“The King is here!" A small boy ran past Merlin's tent, leaves sticking out of his curly head of hair. His face was wide with excitement, but the sounding stampede of horse hooves made him revert back to the confines of his personal encampment.

He knew why they were there. There had been a series of Barghest attacks making their way towards Camelot, and Arthur had never been one to wait like a sitting duck. They must have been desperate to leave the kingdom in such a rush. Unfortunately for them all, it was a waste of time. Merlin had already dealt with the beast. As if he’d truly abandon all he cared for.

He heard the telltale neighing of Llamrei, ever as hotheaded as her owner. She was just as determined to keep moving on a quest as Arthur was. He could remember fondly now, attempting to quiet her insistent complaints about resting. Always nipping and shoving into his shoulder for attention and trying to buck the other knights if they dared stand next to her.

He considered changing appearances. It wouldn't have been the first time. When travelers came looking for Emrys, he had grown accustomed to altering his appearance one way or another. He faltered just outside of the stitched bear hide, staring blankly at the sheen of sunlight that lit up its fibers.

"It's urgent, we need to see him!" Arthur yelled at someone. Merlin nearly burst through the flap that instant, anticipation flooding what sense he had left. He focused on growing his hair out, greying it as light as he could in such a short amount of time, and also adding a few wrinkles. He knew it was the lack of sleep catching up to him that caused his belatedness.

"If he wants to see you, then he'll find you. Do I not look like I have better things to do, My Lord?"

He refastened his white robes, sinching the red and barley yellow twine that a Druid girl had weaved for him. He dared not to worry outrageously about the significance of the colors. And he was unsure whether to feel grateful or not when he was immediately caught behind the gathering accumulating in the center of the camp.

A Druid woman stood with a wooden basket on her hip, berries nearly overflowing over the lip of it. While it must have been heavy, she did not strain. She met Arthur's gaze with an impressive amount of authority for someone without a sword or shield. She didn’t even have shoes on.

"Gloriana," Merlin called to her, a smirk growing despite himself. She leaned around Arthur's big boot, nodding when he gestured for her to continue on with her business. Unfortunately, he hadn't fully prepared himself for when Arthur would look at him. His breath caught in his throat, the gasp drawing the attention of the closest knight.

Lancelot peered down at him, squinting as if the sun had begun to shine from within the ground underneath him. Elyan kept a distance, and Merlin knew that he was more focused on danger outside the premises, than he was of the Druids.

Arthur pulled a prudish face, "You're Emrys?"

Merlin scowled, "You're King Arthur?" At the man's affronted scoff, he huffed and turned to walk down the path leading out of the Druid’s camp. "I suppose you've come for my help!” He laughed a mighty 'HA' as he began to make his way in the direction of the lake he'd found a short travel away. He would do just about anything to get the knights away from the magical people, even by being alone with them. “Fortunate for you, the beast has already been slain, you are free to go."

He'd left Camelot before Arthur had been able to confront him for being a magic user. He hasn’t known what would toe the line of execution, and exile was even worse. He left before Arthur had had to make the difficult choice. And now, as much as he pained to consider his closest friend a threat, he cared much more about the children still learning how to control the pebbles they floated in the air.

He'd barely made it to the outskirts of the camp, when large, pincher teeth clamped down on the back of his linen robe. He was pulled back, an all too familiar whinny making him flail his arms around wildly.

"Llamrei!" he scolded, "How many times do I have to tell y-" His eyes darted to Arthur's, finding it impossible to play off the shock on both of their faces. In his fit of annoyance, his gruff and scratched voice had reverted back to his normal one. He brought a hand up to cover his eyes, turning and pretending as if he hadn't ruined everything.

"Oh my..." He distinctly heard Lancelot murmur. "Merl-"

"Quiet!" Arthur shouted, interrupting Lancelot's quiet realization. Elyan gawked, sharing an astonished glance with his friend. The rest of the camp was eerily silent, and Merlin could not bring himself to see if it was because they were alone or not. He had a sneaking suspicion that the Druid's were hidden in places where they could eavesdrop. A thump in the grass let him know that Arthur had dismounted. Llamrei was finally quiet, Merlin cursed her in his head, trying to drown out the steps of the king drawing nearer.

"I am not M-" A hand on his cheek stopped him abruptly, causing his own to fall like the ball of a flail. He drew in a sharp breath when Arthur caught his eye, like waterfalls in the high noon sun. It took Merlin a moment to realize that they were as wet as his own.

"Merlin." Arthur all but gasped, drawing him into a bone splintering embrace. His arms were stuck at odd angles while he was stuck to the king's body, but he knocked his head affectionately against Arthur's, allowing a slight smile for the occasion. He'd relish the affection while it lasted.

"I've missed you." His voice escaped him, albeit muffled from where his mouth pressed against a red cape. He heard the other two knights lead the horses away, leaving them alone without a word.

"Why did you leave?" Arthur sounded incredibly exhausted, and Merlin's observation proved correct when the he slumped slightly, weighing the leaner man down. They collapsed to their knees. The dew of the grass quickly soaking through their clothes.

"I was scared." Arthur hooked his chin over Merlin's boney shoulder.

"That isn't like you, Merls."

"I was scared you'd kill me."

"What?" Arthur drew himself back, looking over Merlin's anxious and crestfallen face, "I would never."

Merlin used his wrists to wipe back the tears flowing down his cheeks, "You don't have to lie to me Arthur, I’m sorry for lying to you. I deserve your anger, and I am prepared to live with the consequences of my actions. Even if I can never come back with you.”

"Oh, shut it, you idiot!" Arthur scoffed. And Merlin startled at the sudden anger laced in his tone. But it was not hatred that fed the outburst, it was just annoyance. Merlin would recognize that look on Arthur any day of the week. Merlin gaped at him, watching in disbelief as Arthur stood and crossed his arms defiantly. "If anything, I should be apologizing to you, apparently! If I truly had you believing that I would hurt you because of something so mindless, then I guess I haven't been as good of a King as you've always surveyed." His gaze softened as Merlin's brows knitted together in disagreement. Arthur kept going, "I would have never allowed them to take you from me, Merlin. Not in a thousand years."

Merlin's bottom lip wobbled, his emotions bubbling over and spilling out like an overflowing cauldron of water. He pressed his palm against his lips, holding back the distress he felt as his walls began to blow up around him. Arthur enveloped him in another embrace, a gloved hand on the back of his head as he pulled Merlin's face down to conceal his vulnerability.

"I thought-" He broke off with a sigh when his throat clenched up in disapproval.

"Do you really think that lying to me would make me love you any less?"

At Merlin's lack of response, Arthur tugged his gloved off, tossing them into the grass. He cupped Merlin's jaw on either side and pulled him closer, so they had mere inches between their faces. He felt the warm span of Arthur's breath across his nose and cheeks. Thumbs ran across his cheekbones, Arthur's eyes looked over his face like a man would a vault of gold. Merlin had definitely caught Gwaine eyeing a piece of pie the same way before. He shivered as Arthur bumped their foreheads together.

"I can't stop doing magic, Arthur. It's who I am." He looked at the king through his eyelashes, waiting for a sign of disappointment. Arthur grinned, his eyes staying blissfully closed as their noses brushed.

"All that matters is that I found you."

Merlin hummed, relaxing his tense hands at Arthur's sides and contentedly pressing back into all of the king's caresses.

Then he added, "And Gwaine is going to owe Percival so much money."

"You really are an absolute clotpole, you dolt." Arthur's breathy laugh hit Merlin's face once more, making him smirk through his mild irritation.

"You can't speak to your king that way, idiot."

"Who do you think you are?" Merlin opened his eyes, leering playfully at the blond. "The king?" Arthur hummed, brushing Merlin's dark hair out of the way. Distantly, he wondered when his identity spell had fallen.

"Just Arthur."

"Just Arthur?" Merlin quirked a brow at him.

"I'll always be your Arthur."

"Even if that Arthur is an unrelenting clotpole?"

Arthur rolled his eyes, "I'm trying to make this a moment, Merlin."

Merlin recentered the clasp of Arthur's cape, fingers lingering on the outline of a toned chest underneath. He tilted his head and stepped out of the other man's hold.

"That wouldn't be my Arthur, my Arthur is a grumpy king that hates romance.” He was stopped from distancing himself further by a hand grasping the twine around his own waist. Arthur grinned as he admired the colors.

“I’m not entirely against the idea.”

Merlin scoffed defectively at the man's much too pleased smirk, "Get a hold of yourself, sire!"

Arthur only laughed, pulling him in once again, disregarding the lackluster complaints.

excellent point!

i think it was such an important statement that vi was so consistently one of the only people who decidedly held onto jinx’s humanity. even if jinx wouldn’t, vi refused to give up on her. and, i think some people forget that part a little too easily.

and this moment in specific, you’re so right, because that belief had been slipping. (and i find it insulting that people don’t remember HOW FAR jinx had to go for vi to try and stop her)

and you worded it so well, because i was also held up on how much the painting doesn’t actually look like jinx. a part of me thought it looked more like powder.

vi came out of stillwater with only powder still alive in her head. then, it was cait and piltover’s villainous version. and then, she had this moment to consider that maybe both versions of her sister were still there. was jinx a good person? no, she’s an answer to the impossible equation of war and trauma. was she a monster? never in violet’s eyes.

she has always been the smart girl striving to prove herself.

something so raw about siblings, is that you love them even if they’ve made awful mistakes. you still want to protect them, because they’re a part of you. but, how do you protect that urge when people are dead?

i LOVE their sisterly relationship. no matter how dirty and warped it is. i love that, no matter what, they truly had each other’s backs when it mattered. even if one was out of the loop, the other was still looking out for her.

why can’t i just have them in one universe where they’re both happy and pranking each other??? 😭 why must they be so doomed!!

i saw a post with this scene the other day. ⬆️

a lot of people had commented this and that about their depictions of vi being jealous and shocked that jinx was up there with vander instead of herself.

and (as a troubled eldest daughter myself) that broke my heart a bit. although, i think it is realistic for vi to have shown a moment of vulnerability with the audience and then be ripped to pieces by individuals declaring it resentment and selfishness. no shade.

personally, i latched onto that tiny moment where her face falls. the animation of such a flicker of something akin to disappointment is astonishing.

i do think she’s seeing the mural for what it’s lacking. because it is lacking her. but, i think it has more to do with the fact that jinx and vander are there, but she’s not with them. not even necessarily including the political context. just the fact that even a random painting on a random wall lacked her presence just as much as real life.

she should have been right next to her little sister, but she wasn’t. she had both lost that choice, and then made the wrong one.

i can’t help but wonder if the years of being an imprisoned child so incredibly scared that she’d never get another chance for see her sister flashed before her eyes.

i think that mural shackled her to the fact that her world had continued on without her. and she wasn’t needed around to make it function anymore.

vander and their parents’ deaths had instilled in her that her sole purpose was to keep the earth spinning and to keep jinx safe. but, in the end, jinx had adapted. vi hadn’t.

lol

sorry for ranting! i could be entirely wrong, don’t take this to heart. it’s just what i took in and reflected on, and i wanted to share my thoughts. i find it so strangely comforting to see an oldest daughter go through so many punches and such heavy emotional strain and still keep her head up.

she’s so imperfect and i love her.

Ok I read this amazing fic yesterday (basically a sorta rewrite/canon divergence) by @gardezamour and it gave me a burst of inspiration regarding Viktor's codename in my crossover AU with P5R as in this, he goes by "Canary" along with Powder's "Jinx" (she kinda doesn't become Jinx tho at the same time) and it actually dawned on me that canaries were used in mines and Zuan had such! Yeah... I was a little slow there... But anyhow! Read it! It's so good guys!!! 😍

Tho idk if it's final or maybe a variant of the word will be considered because aaaaa it's too good so I tip my hat to you author! It's also inspiring HCs in my brain too so there's that at least if anything! ^_^

CHAPTER TWO- link’s here

@ali-kaaaay @riotroast @littlemeangreen

zaundad’s au where vander is taken by the enforcers after turning himself in for the explosion.

something about miscommunication and saving violet from turning herself in.

after the fact, vander’s territory is crumbling and benzo is holding water in his hands trying to pick up the pieces. silco hears and quickly catches on that maybe vander had a point in what he was doing. because at least his betrayal of cahooting with grayson was buying them time. and now zaun is dividing itself into shards of shattered pottery. and every thing is going to shit because there’s no one keeping all the ducks in a row.

and silco doesn’t really forgive vander, but after getting a tip about how he’s fighting for his life in stillwater, it makes him get a little crazy and protective. so much so that he actually finds himself considering forgiving the bastard. which ensues a ton of loathing and journal worthy emotions as he plans to save his stupid fucking soulmate that he literally hates with every bone in his body.

but he has violet knocking at his door just when he’s about to make the decision to either leave the hound to the wolves, or take vander’s place himself. and she’s so much wiser than her years, and she’s so blunt and courageous, that it reminds him of the way vander would protect them in the mines and during protests. using his brute strength and tuff demeanor to steer away danger. how he would shield them and barter their way through problems.

here was this young girl trying to act ten times her size and fill the same hole the silco himself had been trying so hard to fill. she was so angry that vander had chosen her over everything, and THAT made silco stop for a while. it made him almost jealous.

because vander has chosen everything over him. vander had chosen to act on his violence and guilt and he’d chosen felicia and piltover and the kids over silco.

so, anyway, just silco being pulled in two opposite directions as he tries to save vander from deteriorating in prison for protecting his daughter.

link to chapter one

jayvik au where jayce keeps getting sent back in time to fix what happens to viktor instead of killing him. (mage viktor met kid jayce, why couldn’t jayce just go back?? (and maybe i CAN think of a couple reasons why not, but i’m ignoring them))

so over and over again (similarly to ekko preventing jinx from pulling that pin) jayce is brought back to the day of the explosion in the councilors room.

it gets worse before it gets better. either jayce dies in the explosion because mel couldn’t get to him, or viktor gets upset with him because he abruptly cancels the meeting to bring peace to zaun and viktor just ends up growing more distant from him, or viktor dies anyway because he was getting sicker by the day before the explosion killed him, or viktor gets addicted to shimmer and bad things happen between that and the hexcore all over again (this specific outcome nearly makes jayce go insane, because he had been SO close before it all went to shit), or (most common) NOTHING he says will make viktor stop from leaving after using the hexcore to save him.

he. just. keeps. walking. out.

jayce can’t figure out why, but keeps trying. it’s incredibly debilitating watching your soulmate die dozens of times. but he keeps going, getting more and more desperate each time he wakes up to a new dying viktor.

it might be easier to have been brought back farther. before viktor’s collapse, before sky dies, before viktor was already fused with arcane and shimmer. before he’d made the mistake of choosing fame over his purpose. basically, before viktor started to realize that he was all alone. but who said changing fate was supposed to be easy?

what it comes down to is an au where jayce has to trial and error his way into getting the life back to viktor’s very destroyed soul in…like…three days. and he has to learn that he c— sorry i can’t say what the lesson would be! because that would be spoiling it!! you silly goose!!!

it’s basically a love story :D

bonus: (meljayvik bonus: because we know i love mel too much not to include her) she senses something going on through her empath powers. and at some point she’s unintentionally being dragged into it. power of teamwork to save their doomed dying partner!

The handful of times that Viktor was allowed over the Piltover-Zaun boarder was limited to the amount of meetings Silco was allowed to infringe on. And, because Viktor flashed the sad eyes that made Vander’s resolve fall faster than the rain did every morning, they stayed for two days every trip. Enough time for Viktor to recuperate, and for Silco to overanalyze the words of Piltover’s leaders.

Viktor had a little desire to sit and watch grown ups debate. He had experienced enough of that for a lifetime. So, when Silco left him alone in their Piltie funded hotel apartment, he would slip out and walk around the nearby streets. With his journal under one arm, his crutch under the other, and a pencil clenched between his teeth.

Unfortunately, he was quickly interrupted each time.

“Vik!” The loud, obnoxious voice of the boy with the big eyes.

Viktor paused, fingers just barely touching the wood and lead between his crooked teeth. He turned his head just enough to catch the short bundle of dark blues and browns barreling down the paved sidewalk. Right towards him.

Jayce had knocked them both into the street on Viktor’s third trip into Piltover, and had nearly killed them both in a carriage accident. And, after a plethora of apologies Viktor hadn’t taken seriously, the boy had taken one nosey glance at Viktor’s neat scrawl open in a puddle, and had decidedly begun stalking Viktor from then on.

It was almost impressive; how quickly Jayce seemed to sense his presence in the city.

“Vik!” his name was called out once more, even closer than before. And, refocusing, Viktor realized that Jayce was already linking their arms.

The top of his head barely reached Viktor’s shoulder. Short dark hair had grown into a plouf that fell into light hazel eyes. He was fuller than Viktor was, healthy and fed heartily. But, even with the hunch and the cane, he towered over his unwanted companion. Jayce seemed to have no problem with it, happily dragging Viktor in a different direction.

He dug his heals in, digging his cane even further down on the frayed boot around Jayce’s foot. He chose to ignore the yelp received.

“What did we talk about last time?”

Jayce perked up like a flower under light, “We talked about science and magic, and you agreed to be my partner.”

Viktor squinted, “And….”

Jayce didn’t take the hint, talking gibberish in a language he couldn’t quite comprehend. It was pretty. Even if he found Jayce’s undeterred excitement as mildly irritating as he did interesting. So, rather than put in more useless effort into making his garden gnome of a friend put some value into personal space, he relented with a heavy sigh. He wondered if Jayce knew what he was doing, because he only seemed to grin wider.

Viktor stopped them again, thin arm wrapping around one of the steel bars on a nearby fence. He hugged it tighter when Jayce pouted and attempted to pull him along like a mule would a plow. Viktor sneered mischievously.

He used the element of surprise to drag Jayce back the way they’d come, “Come, Jayce. If you behave, perhaps I will order your tea for you.” He didn’t miss the way babyish cheeks tinted red. “Then you will not spill it all over the ground.”

Petulantly, Jayce stomped along at Viktor’s side, “It’s not by fault the food stands are so tall!”

Viktor hid his laugh behind the pencil between his teeth.

*

“Viktor!” Powder nearly knocked him over on her way through the door. She was out of breath, and he almost panicked that something bad hand happens, if it weren’t for the terribly malevolent smirk she possessed. She composed herself just barely, clearing her throat. “You have a visitor on the way.”

He fought the urge to hit her shin with his cane as his beating heart began to quicken up again.

“Who?”

She shrugged, feigning a comic amount of disinterest in her meander over to the stools around Vander’s bar. Nevertheless, he immediately caught sight of who, at the same moment the door opened again and nearly knocked him in the side of the head.

“Vik!” Muscular arms had locked themselves around his middle. Very muscular arms. Very, very large hands that took up most of the slender expanse of Viktor’s torso.

Jayce was broad. His eyes were a little darker than he remember, but his smile was still big and charming with the little gap between his teeth. But, most of all, he was so goddamn tall. Viktor had to look up at him, and he began to count in his mind just how long it had been since they’d last seen each other. Unsurprisingly, Jayce seemed to still be capable of reading his mind.

He stepped back enough to look Viktor in the eye, but not enough to fully drag his hands off of Viktor’s body.

“I know you said to never follow you past the boarder,” he laughed nervously under Viktor’s scrutiny. “But, it’s been three years, Vik! I missed you too much, and I thought you might be less mad if I had help.” At Viktor’s quirked eyebrow, Jayce overly energized gaze flickered briefly towards his blue-haired sister. He forcefully ignored the feeling of eyes on the back of his head.

“I sent letters,” he lamely replied. Guilt filled in the gaps between the frightening amount of relief that flooded his senses at the presence of his favorite person. Between working for Silco and Vander and tutoring four teenagers, time had been swept out from under him. Jayce laughed, not buying the words anymore than Viktor himself did.

“As if that would satiate me,” Jayce laughed, pressing their cheeks together. Viktor sighed, relenting to the touch that also seemed to have not decreased with age.

He made a defiant guffaw in response, “You always were very demanding.”

Jayce laughed, and it was both a sound that caused Viktor’s heart to flutter, and made his cheeks burn. It startled him intensely. Especially when warms hands tightened around him.

“I might surprise you yet.”

The gasp he let out was a telltale sign that he understood. He gawked up at Jayce’s face, star struck at the way Jayce bent over him just slightly to speak privately. Although, it was still beyond improper of them to be so inexplicably close in broad daylight.

He ran his thumb under the gentle shadows underneath Jayce’s eye, admiring the softness of his skin.

“Would you like a drink?”

Jayce’s cheeks turned violet, “My treat.”

thank you @stellophile <3

asks are open!