Melvik - Blog Posts

Ngl chat I might be going insane. I've been doodling these three since the finale of Arcane delusional coping style

More doodles under the cut

Jayce, you greedy fuck, it's my turn so MOVE

🌙⭐☀️

Melvik agenda >:}}

MelJayVik

thinking about these three in bed, Jayce not being able to keep his hands to himself and Mel deciding to do something about it while Viktor occupies Jayces mouth, his throat being probed while his insides are rearranged by Mels gold plated HexStrap and trust they tease Jayce practically the entire night, teetering him right on the edge before pulling away getting him so worked up he's all teary eyed and begging, while Viktor just scoffs caressing Jayces face while saying "This is what you wanted, no?".

When they do finally let Jayce cum he's sniffling and crying, babbling out a thank you to Mel who'd finally let him cum before he blue balled, gently rubbing his tip as she asked "Gonna be a good boy now?", Jayce would nod and breathlessly parrot her "gonna be good...." his throat raw from all his sobbing. :(

“the arcane stirs within you” he wanted her so fucking bad y'all

I love it when a fandom argues over two popular ships for a person and then there's the small group of people who ship the love interests together without that character. And it always turns out to be such a fire ship too

Melvik situationship pre-arcane.....

So do I look like

Him

Her

public service announcement

edit: tags are not a safe place for jayvik slander. i apologize, but i am brutally hyperfixated on them (diagnosed autistic!!) and for the sake of my mental health i try to avoid negative content of them. if you want to hate please don't do it under my post /gen

if mel and viktor had more screentime alone together the aura in that room would literally be INSANE. openly talking smack about their boytoy beefcake. WITH him in the room, probably. viktor's sass combined with mel's wit would've blown jayce's pants clean off.

kinda random but I've been reading some fanfics of jayvik or js Viktor raising jinx/powder and also that one where Mel raises powder(so soo good chefs kiss) and I've also been slowly converted into a MelVik stan(I was platonic MelVik B4 + jayvikmel but that pipeline chased me down) but like can u imagine MelVik raising pow/jinx together. Like can u imagine the family banter/convos?!?! I've seen ppl talk about how the sass and wit would be off the charts with MelVik but with jinx too?!?! It'd be so fun to read. Like maybe MelVik from the academy days become an established couple and then they find powder who would've run from silco. And then they decide to take her in and eventually Jayce prob gets merged into the MelVik relationship? Ooh Jayce would be fighting for his life from jinx's pranks and MelVik scold her. But they make fun(playfully) of Jayce all the time at dinner.

Ooh like this fic of married melvik. Mwah. This is def how I imagine this au. https://www.tumblr.com/sandywitchboi/770264341755887616/the-people-you-thought-you-knew-etherealnyx?source=share

Wrote this in the comments about Meljay being a straight ship yet feeling as queer as Jayvik and it was I think I cooked with this fr

"Viktor is too busy turning shimmer into wine and walking on polluted water for heteronormativity."

...

hehehehehehehehehehe

I have no idea how to explain but Melvik as a ship *feels* just as gay as Jayvik. This might just be me, but Melvik isn't straight, it's just a ship between the sun and the moon that excludes a caveman himbo-hobo.

Meljay is 10x straighter than Melvik, yet both are technically straight.

Also Melvik should be remained to Eclipse because they're absolutely divine and celestial like the sun and the moon.

The jayvik to meljayvik to melvik pipeline

viktor house, mel cuddy and jayce wilson ;)

i saw a reblog that says maybe vicodin was shimmer, and i liked that idea

guess

DAWG.

there's other things going on in these snippets but one thing im quickly finding out writing the two mages au from viktor's pov is that he's lowkey falling hard and fast for mel. which i definitely didnt expect but straight up i think her skill and capability with magic + perceived put togetherness is making him kind of idolize her. and she's probably going to have some complicated feelings about that given her perfectionism and difficulty being genuine and vulnerable with people

anyway im normal about my own fic so the next chapter of the two mages au isnt up yet but i modeled mel and viktor's bougie little hotel room in the sims 4. yes there's only one bed i dont think mel was really expecting to harbor a fugitive at her place. anyway i tried to keep the exterior in line with what i could gather of noxian architecture while making the interior more a little more homely

Melvik Fake Dating AU

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Ask and Ye Shall Receive! I don't remember which one i'm on. 4? 4 of 15 fake dating AUs? Thanks for playing!

___

“Hey, Viktor?”

Viktor looks up from where he’s poured over another textbook on the end of Mel’s couch. Her feet are in his lap, and he has the spine of the book balanced against her ankles. It’s an image that makes Mel feel a strange kind of fond, and gives her enough bravery to ask the question.

“What if you married me?”

He blinks at her. “—if that’s a random hypothetical you’re going to have to apply some conditions—”

Right. She’s sleep deprived. She rubs her eyes.

“So my mother—”

“Ah, say no more. Buy me a ring.”

She pauses, looks up. “Come again?”

“Your mother.” Viktor says, in a tone like he’s agreeing, just looking down at his textbook. “Has been putting pressure on you to get married and carry on the family line since your brother ran off and shows no sign of settling down, right? So she’s been more insistent and she could make your life difficult and it’ll be easier to make a name for yourself if she isn’t actively fighting you, at least until you graduate college and get established.”

It’s at times like these that Mel remembers that— and why— she really does love Viktor. He’s the smartest man she’s ever met. Or at least in the top two, which reminds her—

“—and you could marry Jayce.” Viktor provides. “But he would doubtless get attached, and you don’t need a romance novel plot. You just need a partner in— crime?”

“Crime.” Mel agrees, absently. “Probably crime. Maybe we could rob her.”

“Well, there you go. We figure out a way to manipulate your mother into giving up some of her stocks and assets, let her think that she’s successfully manipulated you into getting married, I can take the Medarda family name and everyone can stop trying to pronounce mine, we don’t fall dramatically in love like a romance novel plotline, and everybody wins.”

Mel laughs, knowing that she’s already failed step one.

“You have a deal. So, Viktor— Viktor—” She tries to remember his last name, and he waves her off.

“Don’t.”

“Viktor.” She says. “Will you marry me?”

“I will, in fact.” Viktor says. “Now, let me finish my chemistry notes.”

This may have been a miscalculation, but she’s surely in it now.

This idea has been bouncing around my brain non stop, so I wrote a little snipet. Might write more after I finish my current WIPs

The first thing Mel noticed during their reunion -as violent and messy it had been- was that Jayce's softness was gone. Both in his body -its plush curves and soft muscle that she loved to lay against being replaced by sharp protuding bones and wiry muscle- and in his mind -a fountain of unconditional love she had grown used to bathing in that had dried up when she least expected it, leaving her thristy and longing for its sweet freshness-.

Mel found herself mourning its loss despite knowing it was always bound to happen. She had known sooner or later a wolf would come around and rip Jayce's wings off to feast on his soft heart.

Mel pondered on who it could have been as she gently carded her fingers through Jayce's wet hair, smiling at its softness. She took a moment to appreciate Jayce's sleeping face, how even after being subdued by Viktor's magic his face still remained tense, his brows stuck in a perpetual frown, so different from his previous self I caused Mel's heart to clench painfully.

In an attempt to sooth herself and Jayce she began to gently sing an old Noxian lullaby her brother would sing to her. The tender tones of the song and her voice had the intended result.

Jayce subconsciously nuzzled into her thighs, his shoulders losing a little of that ever present tension, which was perhaps a hint not all of his sweetness was gone.

Okay genuine question. Chat, do we think that if s2 Viktor and Mel got power hungry, and joined forces to take over Piltover to recreate it in their own divine image. If this happened, do we think Jayce would crumble or renounce them?

hello melvikers

Viktor and Mel Madarda met for the first time when the the brilliant prodigy first started out as Heimerdinger’s assistent.

He scared her. Because he reminded her of those that Ambessa warned her about. He was smart as a whip, his eyes burned into you like molten sugar, and there was an air of judgment that he gave off even when he addressed you with proper respect. He was reluctant to adhere to Piltover’s reign, and he was proud of his roots even if they kept him back.

They bickered and stole glances like a couple of children, and he reminded her that she didn’t have to be perfect or hide her true intentions in order to gain attention. He met her head on, calling her out when she tried to lie and forgiving her anyway. It stung, but he was the closest she had to a pleasant reality. He watched her like the moon did the setting sun, and she couldn’t stop herself from holding him closer over time.

Eventually, diplomacy and her mother won, and she gave up that part of her heart. She only unzipped the old outfit again when Jayce Talis blazed along to her feet. But, even then, she fell a little in love with him too.

She felt guilty for many reasons as she led Jayce to her bed. Sure, it was cruel to lead him into a wolf’s den and make him eat from the same carcass. It was even worse to pretend to ignore the way Viktor’s pride fell away the more Jayce grew poisoned by it.

And, when an unforeseen look of betrayal fell so openly on her from citrine eyes, it pained her unbelievably. It pained her, but by then she had been playing the game too long to stop.

She’d regret it.

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.”

part 2 of my moses!viktor au - part 1 here

Ideas for a title: "Bitter Water Made Sweet" or "She Named Him Viktor" Which are just a couple of my favorite lines from Exodus (I have a lot though, so these probably won't be the only contenders) Thoughts and opinions are appreciated. I think I’ve officially leaned into meljayvik (as seen quite obviously in this segment), and I’m quite content about it.

Mel’s hands were soft and warm. The caverns of her palms lined up with his own, and her nails dug into the back of his hand every time his right knee faltered and caused him to sway away from her.

They watched each other through the corners of their eyes, catching themselves at similar times and fastening their gazes onto the lanterns and murals along the passing streets instead. Viktor had pretended to find a particular window very interesting, not noticing the woman behind it sensually waving her crooked fingers at him until Mel was pulling him along a little more hurriedly. He slowed them down when she had gotten a little too overzealous, and his cane had begun to drag behind more than it assisted his mobility. She made a slight huff out of her nose, but politely and gracefully stepped to his own slow pace.

He eyed her again, admiring the way her hair curved around her back, the shiny tendrils like a veil as the strands billowed behind her by the breeze. Her eyes shun green again under the warm glow of the lanterns, and her lips were red instead of the black they had seemed by the stream. He felt has jaw slacken as he admired the color that had returned to her aura.

“It is impolite to ogle, Viktor.”

“I am not ogling,” he ripped his line of sight away, instead pointing a glare at half-erased hopscotch markings in the path coming up beside them. What was left of the yellow chalk was almost orange, saturated from the runoff water dripping from the gutters above it. She did not respond to his petty reply, so he changed the subject. "Where are we going again?" She hadn't told him in the first place, but he felt the urge to pretend that he had a say in their exhibition. He caught the corners of her plump lips twitch up before she bore a more neutral expression. He squinted as his eyes lingered on the changes.

"We had not thought it wise to spring this onto you all at once." She did not give him any assurance before pulling him down a side street.

He dug the heel of his good leg into the cobbled road, causing them to halt. "In case you did not notice, I seem to have missed the memo on bringing my minecart for you to push me around in!" His sarcasm filled the air between them as he heaved a deep breath and she finally looked at him with the clarity of a dirty coin run through fresh water. He glared at her wide, dolesome eyes, sighing when her grip loosened and her fingers linked with his own in a more intimate, comforting manner.

"I'm sorry, Viktor," she drew closer to him, her hip inches from brushing against his own. Her shawl was extremely soft when his wrist rubbed against it. It was warm, even with the strong wind blowing against them. While being so close, he realized that she was unnaturally warm, like a personified flame. Small, but fervent enough to make you extract your hand immediately in fear of being scorched.

She paced herself better as she led him along in the direction of a lonesome bar.

It was one of the only dwellings that still had its lights on so late at night. Late enough for the mine and street vendor workers to get off of a shift and still pretend that they had a life. It was bigger than The Last Drop, but it was not better. On the outside, the grout between crooked and graffitied bricks was cracked like a double-paned window, there were shattered lanterns on either side of the door, and the sign was held at a crooked angle by a single chain on the right side. The name was indistinguishable from the grime covering it. Viktor considered falling down like a sack of potatoes into the mud and excrement from animals pulling carriages, if only to prevent their future murders. Less by the inhabitants of such a building, and more so by the indescribable alcohol sold.

Inside was not much better. While Vander kept his bar swept and lit, this one was littered with coal dust and heavy shadows. Each tiny table had a dying, flickering candle. While it could have set a romantic mood, the muscled women in the corner throwing punches, the bartender sending a empty bottle flying at a singing man attempting to climb the counter, and the five or six knives that laid on tables of card players, caused all image of such to die.

Mel did not flinch when more than one pair of eyes landed on them, but she did step in front of him as she continued to the darkest corner. Her grip tightened, nearly strangling his hand's circulation. She tossed warning glances with her chin up, and Viktor watched her with amazement as she made the atmosphere return to normal. No one said a word to them.

"How did you do that?" he asked as they sat down. He very briefly felt embarrassed when she made it a point to help him sit comfortably in the booth, not letting go of him until he was surely planted.

"Do what?" she asked, beguile. As she flowed into the seat opposite of him, her smirk returned. She sat straight as an arrow, but he could tell that it was out of habit and not in a tense manner. She seemed relaxed, never more on edge as she had been when daring the other patrons to interrupt her. Even Vander had to do more than look at his clientage to get them to knock it off. And he'd witnessed Vander punch someone through a window on more than one occasion. Which made him wonder….

"Can you move things with your..." he searched for a word to describe what he had caught her doing just barely an hour beforehand. He made vague swishing motions with his fingers, attempting to mimic what she had done with the golden sparks. She giggled into her closed fingers, eyes flickering to something on Viktor's left. He smiled marginally, following her gaze. He had expected to find a funny painting on the wall, or possibly a crude remark etched into the fake leather of the seat. Instead, he was flailing in an attempt to escape as he met a new set of eyes.

His scream was cut abruptly and effectively off by a salt sweaty hand over his mouth. He made a muffled sound of affronted anger, twisting roughly to at least get a better look at the stranger. The man had dark hair, slightly tousled from what had once been a neat slick back. His skin was beautifully healthy tan, but he had silvery scars along his hands and arms as a result of some type of physical labor. He didn't have a beard, but he was not clean shaven either. Finally, Viktor seethed at ale-colored eyes, wrenching his jaw out of the offenders hold and biting down on the flesh of his thenar eminence.

"Fuck!" The heat around the back of his neck and cheeks was gone, a string of saliva breaking once the man's hand was clutched to his broad chest. Viktor grunted and wiped away the moisture across his lips, all while keeping an unrelenting glower on him. The man laughed after a moment, his cheeks blowing up like a balloon and his eyebrows lifting in shock. His head flung backwards as his boisterous rumbles carried across the room. Viktor slowly turned to gawk at Mel, who was almost as amused as the other.

Viktor felt a furious, revengeful urge to hit them both in the head with his cane. But when Mel lifted a brow, he kept his fingers back from reaching for the stick at his side.

A hand in his peripheral vision made him begrudgingly look over. And his annoyance abruptly dropped, his mouth parting just slightly when the man tilted his head in a much sweeter acknowledgement. He hummed at Viktor's lack of requite, none of his pleasantry dropping as he took Viktor's free hand in his own. He had large hands, which was what he took note of immediately. It wrapped his own like a gift, a span of callouses digging into delicate bones.

"I'm Jayce."

He blinked, "Vik-"

"-Viktor." The way Jayce said his name felt like how the sun warmed your skin on a breezy day. He said nothing back. "I know who you are." Jayce didn't let his hand go. He noticed that their hands had only held each other's in a frozen grasp, and the thought made Viktor look back at Mel.

She smiled at him, the motion capacious and delightful. "Now that you two have been acquainted, let us discuss why we brought you here, Viktor."

Viktor looked between them, at Jayce's glee and Mel's pride at a job so far well done. Jayce's hand broke from the professional grasp they had adhered to and instead tucked his fingers under Viktor's palm. He regarded Mel with the same simmering excitement as he had Viktor.

"Go on," he nodded to her, attempting to ignore the broadening smile on the other man's face. It really was distracting. He found he didn't hate it as much as he normally would have. Or, the way he should have.

"I want to prevent war," Mel's sound dropped significantly. Viktor had to crane his neck closer to hear her clearly, brows pinched in concentration. "In order to do that, I have compiled a series of warnings to frighten Piltover into letting Zaun go. They will refuse, but we will punish them until they are burdened with guilt too heavy to carry further." She leaned in closer, elbows folded neatly on the greasy table. "It will take time, but it is my goal to manipulate the city in preventing further deaths."

Viktor bit back his wave of inquiries, sieving through them to find an easier one to portray his interest. He barely noticed the way his silence made concern flicker across his companions faces, or how Jayce's hand constricted around his own.

"How do I play into this? I do not hold any significant power."

"Of course you do," Mel held her chin up with one hand as she stared prettily at him. She was unrelenting, that was for certain, and was full of enough spirit for an army. He couldn't help but believe her.

Jayce nudged him, "Well," he whispered into Viktor's ear, "Are you in?"

He thought of Vander and his daughters, of Benzo and Ekko, of his entire block that protected him from being dragged back to Piltover for exile. In the back of his mind, he recalled memories of Cassandra and Caitlyn doing the same. He shuddered at the memory of the heartbreak they had observed him with before he had fled.

"Are you aware of my connections to the council?" They nodded, respectfully solemn. He sighed, the hairs in his face flying up like a broken parcel.

Jacy scooted himself even closer, "If we pull this off, you'll be able to see them again. In the sunlight, without the fear of getting sent away."

Mel reached a hand out, fixing his crazed whisps of hair that had fallen back into his eyes, "We will protect you, Viktor. But you have to trust us as much as we do you. And if that is too much to ask, you have to ask yourself if you can at least give us the chance to gain it ourselves." He felt his head grow heavier as he caught himself leaning into her touch. He straightened, weighing the options over again.

He could let it go. He could leave like he had never met these people before in his life. He could watch as Zaun fought for their own freedom, just as history naturally went. He knew he would have to watch his friends die, and that that would be inevitable in the case.

He had never delt with loss well. When Cassandra had told him the story of his real parents, how they had sent him down the Pilt in a last-ditch effort of saving his life, he had hidden away and ignored his own health for so long, that they had kept him in private, consistent company for weeks afterwards. Just the loss of people he had never met weighed heavy enough to cause a spiraling case of grief. He feared what a war would cause him to do. And, even as the lingering light of his family up in Piltover turned grey, he had his answer in mind.

"Can we get out of here?"

part 3

a dabble of a moses!au - based on this post

Viktor wasn't entirely sure if he believed in Janna. Enough debilitating and unfortunate circumstances with zero relief would do that to you, and he was already feeling especially helpless in that moment. But, he considered that the closest thing he'd ever experience to a cosmic deity was probably right in front of him.

"Are you lost?" He titled his head at her, squinting when she startled and the gold that had pulsated between her hands, like a star, dissolved much like water would as it touched fire. She looked like the last type of person to be hiding behind an overgrown patch of cattail. Her hair fell in loose coils along the ground where she sat. Her skin was dark, with peeks of gold under the red shawl and white gown she adorned. More directly, she was the most angelic person Viktor had ever seen.

"I believe I am exactly where I'm meant to be," she responded. She looked him up and down, her dark eyes calculating and confident. She smiled, and although it was comforting, it still made him stand a little straighter. As though he were back in the the city he had once called home, under scrutiny of the council because he had empathy. The devil on his shoulder. The reminder made his shoulders sink.

"Right," he tried to hold back his sarcasm, but he could tell it did not work when she quirked a neatly kempt eyebrow at him. He toed the ground with his holey boot. "You shouldn't be down here, Piltover does not approve of nonconformists."

Her smile relaxed, turning more curved at the edges, "I am more than capable of managing myself, Viktor."

"Well-" The sound died in his throat; hand frozen in the air where he had begun to make a mild sweep of a gesture. She turned back to the stream at his stuttering, splashing her feet in the shallow waters. She giggled into her blood red shawl, the sound slightly muffled. His arm fell back to his side as he squinted at her profile. Her bubbling amusement broke with a sigh, and she did not look at him again as she began to speak.

"I have heard your urge to free your people of the affliction caused by Piltover. I would like to help you. I could assist you and yours, to make this desolate land into one of fresh milk and rich honey." She smiled, as though she could imagine such a paradise with the smell of faint smoke and oil in the air.

"Who are you calling desolate?" He knew he should have been slightly more offended, on behalf of where his loyalties were. But he still took a few steps forward as he attempted to catch a closer glimpse of her face.

"What is that in your hand?" she deflected his rhetorical question.

He glanced down at his cane, unimpressed, "A walking stick."

"Throw it on the ground." She peered at him, smiling slightly devilish. Her magnificence did not dwindle though. Unfortunately for Viktor. Her teeth were perfectly straight, he realized.

"I will not be able to walk without it," he refused, clawing his stare away from her. She hummed, still taking in the expanse of his unsure expression. He sighed, long and suffering, before letting go of the silver knob his body had been leaning on. It didn’t clamor as it usually would have.

He gasped, loud enough for her eyes to flash up at him with invigorated excitement. There was a snake in place of where the wood should have landed in the uneven stone. Black and luminous with yellow eyes like the sun on burning hot days. It hissed at him; it's tongue like a tiny black ribbon as it flicked out. The cold of sinister fear felt like he'd mistakenly fallen into the river a few feet away. He looked away just to ensure that he hadn't.

"Come," she held a pliant hand out to it, not bothered in the slightest when the serpent sped towards the limb and immediately constricted itself firmly around her thin arm. When Viktor had not moved, she looked away from the reflective pattern of its scales to share an expectent tilt to her head. "Come."

"Absolutely not," he nearly tripped over his inverted leg in his haste to put distance between himself and the glimmering eyes of burning coal.

She hummed, petting the smooth head of the creature, "In order to save the Zaunites, I will have requests for you, Viktor. In order for me to believe in your abilities to do what it takes, I must ask you to follow my directions without a doubt holding you back. You must gain my trust."

Viktor was suddenly hesitant to look at her. She stood out against the falling night, glimmering and pure as she all but dangled a notoriously dangerous offer in front of his face. Even so, he was spurred on as he sensed their time coming to a close. Even if she presented herself as a divine entity, her wet feet would eventually grow cold from the vacant sun and freezing waters of the rushing water. Viktor himself ached from the long day he had had, suddenly desperate to sit down.

He limped over to her, unintentionally kicking up gravel as he went. The snake's head piqued at his nearing proximity, curling itself down the woman's arm to her flat hand. It reached for him as he did the same. Its jaw was wide open, opalescent fangs on display. But one daring stare from darkly shadowed eyes made him commit anyway. He stared, attempting to conceal his terror as it snapped its jaw shut and opted to lazily slink up his forearm and bicep.

She smirked, looking him up and down once more, her gaze dragging along his legs, waist, chest, then face. He shivered. He blamed the cold.

"Who are you?" He shivered once more as wet scales slid across the back of his neck.

"I am who I am. And I am your provider."

He gaped at her, "You are a woman I have never met before, and you are handling poisonous vermin with no sign of concern. I have it in my right mind to drag you up to Piltover myself. Before you catch a cold sitting there." He turned away from her, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from raising his voice to the yellow eyes in front of his own as well. He had a feeling that the animal wouldn't hold back as much as their other companion. Its tongue hit his nose before encircling around his pale neck.

"You may call me Mel, if you insist on belittling my endeavor so soon." He spun around, slightly dumbfounded by her pouted lips. He couldn't stop his snort, quieting almost immediately when her disappointed eyes hit the light just right and he realized they were green. They shun under the moon's florescence like jewels.

"Endeavor?" he asked, incredulous.

"Yes," she nodded plainly, crossing her arms over her shawl, "I deserve to act esoteric after how long it has taken me to catch you alone." Viktor's hand dragged themselves over the sharp slopes of his own face in an exaggerated huff.

"Just- Could you get to the point?" The snake got unnecessarily close to his eye. He glared at it. “Please?”

She stood, her gown of starlight draping elegantly down to her heels, and the motion was so fluid that he wondered if she were also a serpent. Her drenched feet left a dark path as she took three steps closer to where he stood. He let the suspicion go.

"Take a firm grasp of her, then she will return to your trusted walking stick." Her sarcasm made him grin, giving a short and sweet chuckle to her offence at his sudden nonchalance. For a moment, he thought he shouldn't believe her; that touching the serpent was a sure way to get him bit and killed. But, when he wrapped a hand around the onyx tail, the painted body of his cane was suddenly slung over his right shoulder.

"Oh," he gaped at it, mouth hung open as Mel drew nearer. Her hand landing under his left elbow caused him to startle, dropping the object once again.

They both watched as the wood transformed to flesh. The snake looked slightly dazed, as if it hadn't intended to turn back so soon. Or, she, Mel had said. He repressed the urge to apologize.

Mel's untarnished giggles drew him back to reality once more. He felt his jaw shut tight and his shoulders melt like sugar under a high flame. She squeezed his arm, grinning wild enough that he could see the soul of her. Mischievous and cunning, caring and ravishing. Her laughter deflated to priceless wrinkles in the outer corners of her eyes. Her soft gaze lingered on him, but she eventually knelt down to pick up the serpent, neither of them acknowledging whether it changed back again.

She offered her hand.

"Come. I have someone to introduce."

part 2 - part 3

leaning into viktor becoming jesus:

moses au where baby viktor is found in a basket in the pilt by cassandra. he’s raised piltovian with caitlyn.

he speaks out regularly about the mistreatment of zaunians as he grows up. constantly starting arguments at galas, breaking into council meetings to state his opinions. (mind you, this is before he’s aware that he IS a zaunite, so cassandra is in her chair like ‘this boy is dooming us BOTH’)

eventually he starts sneaking down to zaun, wanting to help but not knowing how to. the other councilors thinks he’s committing treason or something, so they order to have him sent to stillwater or some kind of confinement. viktor finds out and flees to zaun.

he helps vi and powder escape from some goons trying to steal from them and vander invites him to stay for a little while out of thanks. he eventually begins working for vander, maybe involving himself with political matters on the down low after a while (idk).

and then comes mel medarda, same age, showing up with magic and scaring the shit out of poor viktor with her gold sparks. i’m thinking the spot where singed’s cave is, behind a bush that viktor OBVIOUSLY has to investigate. (the angel of god, my love 🫶 mel medarda).

mel ‘throws’ jayce at viktor and there’s a whole explanation about how viktor’s super genius intelligence was still talked about by heimerdinger, and jayce needed a partner to figure out his magic crystal thing. jayce can be viktor’s aaron (minus the brother thing, and more because he’s viktor’s right hand man)

blah blah blah, viktor’s touched by the arcane, blah blah blah, viktor uses magic with mel’s help to convince piltover to free zaun (after MANY trials and errors). many waters parted, many firelights covering the sky and taking away piltover’s sun privileges, possibly a plague.

and they all live happily ever after (probably)

i don’t even know about ships…i haven’t thought that far. i just really want god-is-a-woman: ~*MEL*~

could be melvik, could be jayvik

but, even better, it could be ~*meljayvik*~

or just a quirky story about magic, and who doesn’t want that??

( i have a sneaking feeling that all of my fic ideas are going to be viktor finding a family )

NOTICE: if someone’s already written this, or something like it; for the love of THE LORD link it because i love the chaos of moses’ story. and viktor would double the chaos like a bee in a bus. if not… i’ll do what i have to 🥸

part 1 - part 2 - part 3

Arcane tennis AU but it immediately descends into Challengers brainrot