jayce talis was a changed man. being intertwined inexplicably with a wild rune would do that to you. to see such an apocalyptic future, to have lost loved ones, to have killed the unfortunate . . . it all took its toll on him.

and now, piltover was at war. it seemed that the dictatorship of caitlyn kirraman had crumbled with the incessant pressure of the bloodthirsty noxians; not that jayce had ever liked ambessa medarda.

he knew his mission, knew what must be done. his former partner had become a messiah, and jayce could not abide that. hextech had to be destroyed. it had taken so much already.

so when jayce reached viktor’s commune, rumpled dark hair falling overgrown into haunted hazel eyes, he was not expecting to see you. your time together at the academy had not necessarily been cordial, apart from a few hot open-mouthed mishaps of hungry nails and teeth in hidden alcoves.

you were not one of viktor’s disciples, but something else more elusive. to jayce, it did not matter. (it did.) you were in his way. yet when he attacked you it was gentle, the scruffy beard on his jaw rough under your hands.

he underestimated you, and was now pinned to a table.

“fuck,” jayce spat blood from his mouth, breathing hard and fast. why would you protect viktor? he was no herald of peace. something beyond human, anyway. “let me go!”

the ragged torn fabric of his once-pristine jacket hugged the breadth of his shoulders, which currently struggled in your grip. or rather, the way you held his jaw was far too intimate. desperation filled the amber flecks of his irises, and he attempted to bite the hand holding his face.

“i am trying to help, goddamnit!”