Chapter Text
Oxycodone: “(…) is a semi-synthetic opioid used medically for the treatment of moderate to severe pain. It is a highly addictive and commonly abused drug. Common side effects include euphoria, constipation, nausea, vomiting, loss of appetite, drowsiness, dizziness, itching, dry mouth, and sweating.”
Jayce met her, predictably, online.
Not online as in people who used websites or apps for quick sex, nor in the sense of men stalking pretty girls on social media. Not even as in ‘weird man gets obsessed with streamer of big tits’. No. Jayce Talis found Viktoria Reveck’s name for the first time under the title of a newly posted research by Zaun’s University.
It was a brilliant paper. Genius, even. Viktoria possessed an admirable control not only in the understanding of space-time matters but also on her writing. It was – different. Unique. Which made sense once Jayce remembered people at the zaunite district still spoke that ancient tongue of the lanes and learned piltovian until they were older.
Viktoria wrote her research not as a mere report of her notes at the planetarium (something Jayce concluded via the report itself, given the credits and samples included); it was a story of stars and planets moving around the Earth, a tale of science and wonders of what happening so far away from them.
Isn’t it heartbreaking that the stars we admire are dead ghosts? Viktoria asked at the ending of her paper. And Jayce considered it. And he agreed.
Nevertheless, Jayce didn’t have the opportunity of meeting Viktoria. To begin with, Jayce never found any other paper under her name, neither did he find any socials. He dared to ask her name once to professor Stanwick, the oldest at Piltover’s Academy and the only person Jayce believed could (or would) have heard of a zaunite research.
“Reveck?” the professor had huffed in disgust, smoking lazily as he graded homework, “Yes, I knew a Reveck. Corin Reveck. Went to jail, last time I checked.”
“… Perhaps she’s his daughter,” Jayce murmured, mostly to himself, to be true, but Stanwick laughed anyway, raising his eyebrows in something akin to mockery.
“That man was a homosexual, Jayce. Why do you think he was jailed?”
(Yikes)
And that had been it. No sign of Viktoria Reveck to be anything but a name under a digital paper that had Jayce picking up physics books rather than studying for his field (mechanical engineering and programming, thank you). Eventually, however, Jayce forgot about the paper and the name and the questions he had about the stars.
Yes, he could have taken a train and visited the district of Zaun. It was easy to do for a piltovian like himself, who needed no more than carry his ID and could go down to the undercity for whatever kind of pleasure he wished to indulge in. It was, in fact, a common behavior for university students to go there once or twice per semester and enjoy what was forbidden in Piltover. Bachelor parties were, for example, commonly held in Zaun’s brothels.
But Jayce wasn’t about to risk his wallet and knees in a trip to that place over a faceless figure behind a paper, no matter how intriguing it were.
Besides, Jayce thought once, distracted as he weighted his vegetables and cooked raw meat, a zaunite woman couldn’t be that smart.
He met Viktoria properly around three years later, when he was already studying his PhD and working half time at his dead father’s company, busy enough that he might have missed her completely had she not been so striking.
It was rare to see people with walking aids in Piltover. It was rarer to see them in a young woman.
Tall, terribly thin, pale like snow. Long brown curls fell messily to her waist – oh, and how sinful that was, her waist so narrow that anyone would think she had ripped her lower rips out of her torso –, a cute yet sharp dollface showing the most adorable type of confusion as she read the announcement’s tabloids of the hall.
In her left hand she was holding a wooden cane, her hip slightly turned to her side as well. Her right leg wore a brace from thigh to ankle over loose blue jeans; she was wearing flat pink ballerina shoes that matched her oversized pastel pink sweater, a knitted sort of clothing that was loose on her shoulders and flat-chest, but didn’t cover her belly or neck. That was the job given to a thick beige turtleneck. It was, overall, the sort of look Jayce would expect to see in an art’s school, and not at the elite science Academia of Piltover.
She was painfully fragile, and Jayce felt something inside of his guts burn in hunger.
“May I help you?” he said before realizing it, walking next to her like a wolf in sheep’s clothing. Up close, she was even more delicate and warming: Two doe honey eyes turned to watch Jayce with a mix of sadness and melancholy, a darling deer scared of human men. Her eyebrows were slightly darker than her brunette hair, trimmed and raised in surprise. Sharp cheekbones, flirting moles and pouty glossy lips gave her a perfect face for blow job porn videos, but the blush on her face told Jayce that she was probably a virgin.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you,” she admitted, using her right hand to push her curls away, taking off a black earplug. A frog themed earring was getting stuck between her hair, but she didn’t seem to mind. “What did you say?”
“I was just wondering if you needed help,” Jayce said, smiling as human as he was able to, half of his brain wondering of which part of Zaun this girl was from – her accent was thicker than anything Jayce had heard from the employees around the city, but it still carried the same strong consonants that characterized that pseudo language –, the other half wondering if her tits were truly that small or if it was a visual effect of her clothes. “You seem a bit lost.”
“That obvious?” she hummed, and it sounded sarcastic, but her eyes were ashamed. She leaned down slightly, bending her knees to take a black tote bag from the floor and putting it over her shoulders. A common action between students, and one that allowed Jayce to check out her ass and lick his teeth as he imagined slapping those petite muscles.
“First day?” Jayce offered, a fisherman throwing a bait.
“Second, actually. It’s just…”
“Aha?”
“They didn’t show me the mechanics laboratory,” she smiled sadly, shaking her head, “And I was hoping to attend the talk scheduled for today.”
Sweet gods from under and above.
“… Well, you’re in luck,” Jayce crossed his arms, trying to imitate that cliché flirting he had seen football players pull with girls back in High School, “You just ran into the expositor. Jayce Talis, at your service.”
She giggled, and it sounded as if a strawberry cream pastel had become a little girl and laughed bubbles.
“You are Jayce Talis?”
“Don’t tell me you expected a middled aged man.”
“Eh, I hoped not. But given the research I saw…”
“I have heard that before.”
“I suppose I shall attend your talk, then,” her teeth were impossibly white. Were they fake? Jayce wondered if she had ever had one pulled out – as many young people went through that nowadays for prettier smiles –, and if so, how had her blood looked over the pearls she had for teeth?
“I feel like I’m not being a gentleman,” Jayce mentioned, offering her his arm to guide her to the lab, “I don’t even know your name.”
“It’s Viktoria. Viktoria Reveck,” she didn’t take his arm, but she smirked, and she followed him for the rest of the day.
They didn’t become friends after that. Not exactly.
In just two months, Jayce has managed to learn almost anything about Viktoria Reveck.
She’s twenty-five, just two years younger than Jayce. She’s 172 centimeters tall and she weights fifty-two kilograms (and Jayce insists in the superiority of the international system of measures). Her bra cup is a double-A. She has five different canes, two pair of crutches and one wheelchair. She moans when she eats something particularly tasty. She apologizes to animals and machines. She reads explicit erotic novels where men brand the female leads with fire and tie them up in attics.
The only child of Dr. Reveck and Professor Heimerdinger. A few lucky clicks and well-put questions to the older teachers at the academy had gotten Jayce the general answer, but it had been stalking Viktoria’s socials (silly usernames he would have never found had she not shared them with him one late afternoon over lunch. Who named themselves @MachineHerald?) what explained the situation to him.
Reveck and Heimerdinger were, as Jayce had been told, homosexuals. At some point they had left Piltover and moved to the Zaun district (more likely because Reveck was a zaunite, and around twenty years ago, Piltover had updated the laws and norms on working visas), and then they had adopted Viktoria. Viktoria was a zaunite as well, something Jayce had known since reading her name on that paper, but it was confirmed by the visa and college ID she always carried with her (she had already needed to show it twice to the police during the times she and Jayce met); she and her parents had moved to Piltover via one working visa, a student permit and the fact that Heimerdinger was piltovian (and, apparently, he had just received a generous inheritance).
Viktoria’s socials didn’t go further than seven years ago, but Jayce had found pictures of hospital gardens, blurry images where she was having picnics, a fluffy dog, a hissing cat, too many flowers and sweet milk drinks faking to be coffees.
Disgustingly cute.
Other things he had learned via Viktoria herself. How she loved collecting plushies, how she had a major on astrophysics but was now in a robotics PhD, that her preferred lunch was a sandwich and a salad, that she always wore the same girly sweet perfume of vanilla, orange blossom and candied lemon, and that she was adorably shy. A fucking christian’s wet dream walking around in oversized sweaters while listening to Mozart.
Vikki was like an apple covered in sugar. And while Jayce had always preferred bitter and salty, he had simply salivated at the idea of sinking his fangs on Viktoria’s neck.
So damn brilliant. So damn pure. So damn fragile.
“Oh? A girl?” Ximena hums one weekend when he visits her, his mother busy cooking yet listening carefully when Jayce spills the name without thinking (it’s the cake’s fault. His mother insisted on him having a bite, and the soft vanilla bread wet in milk reminded him of his darling girl).
“Uh. Yes. A girl,” Jayce confirms, fingers tapping over the perfectly ironed tablecloth. “She’s…”
“Cute? Well-mannered? Intelligent? Goes to church?” Ximena interrogates him mercilessly, turning off the stove and taking off her apron. “Hopefully this one is not like those harlots you have dated before.”
It’s not Jayce’s fault that some girls are whores. It’s not his fault those were the ones to agree to sucking Jayce’s cock when he was stressed.
“I’m not sure Viktoria goes to church,” it’s what he says, taking a sip from his tea. What is he going to say when mother finds out Viktoria was raised by two men? Will that matter once Ximena sees just how perfect Viktoria is?
“Well, I supposed that could be fixed,” Ximena half-smiles, her curls framing the mole over her cheekbone, her calloused hand caressing Jayce’s cheek. “Bring her to dinner one night, then. I’m not getting any younger, dear.”
Thing is, that Viktoria isn’t his friend yet.
Jayce follows her around, abusing her bad sight and her refusal to wear her glasses outside of class; she doesn’t live with her parents (although she visits them once per week at least, if not more often. And she calls them frequently, specially Heimerdinger, whose ridiculous way of speaking has made Jayce roll his eyes five times already whenever he catches that voice through Viktoria’s phone), instead settling for a small apartment close to the university.
First floor, one bedroom, one bathroom, a kitchen shared with a dining room, the tiniest of living rooms. It has a dark-red carpet on the living room, cold floor on the kitchen and a thick and furry pink carpet on her bedroom. Her right drawers and bathroom’s sink are filled not with skincare and luxury but with meds and inhalers. The place smells of cookies, strawberry candles, disinfectant and a hint of cat.
Viktoria has never invited Jayce to her house. But he knows it anyway. It wasn’t hard to get in (Viktoria always left a spare key under a lovely rose plant she had outside of her door alongside her mailbox. And one Saturday she had gone to her parent’s, giving Jayce plenty of time to copy the key), and it wasn’t hard to bribe her cat (a hissing creature called Rio that was missing an eye) with catnip and tuna.
Jayce is decent though. He didn’t install cameras – even if Viktoria should have cameras, given that she’s a disabled young woman living alone in a building with no security whatsoever –, and the only souvenirs he has taken are blood-stained panties she throws to the garbage, hairs from her brush and sometimes socks.
If she ever comes to knowing what Jayce does while she’s at her physical therapy or medical appointments, she should be thankful. A crazy man could be the one entering her apartment. It could be a cruel man following her, one that would enter her place while she’s sleeping and rape her instead of Jayce, who checks her refrigerator and kitchen and takes note of inviting her out for lunch.
Jayce’s not sure why they’re not friends yet. They exchanged socials, he invites her for lunch and coffee, he sends her stupid TikToks of kittens and left-y essays on human rights that the algorithm says Viktoria should like. Jayce is nice with her, always smiling, always charming, pulling every trick he has learned through the years and even humiliating himself to do the puppy eyes and ‘daddy didn’t love me’ speech when they meet particularly late and intimate. Nevertheless, Viktoria stays at a distance, lonely and childish.
It hits Jayce almost by accident.
“He was flirting with you,” Jayce growls between teeth, trying to sound funny and not like a bear about to behead a fish. Viktoria has come back to sit with him at their table at the cafeteria, just after spending twenty-two fucking minutes laughing with Dmitri Helvig about some new episode of a TV show Jayce does not watch.
Viktoria blinks, and she looks so confused that it’s stupid. Her head even tilts, and she reminds Jayce, again, of a deer that simply does not have a big brain.
“Who?”
“Helvig.”
“No, he – Dmitri is my friend,” Viktoria pouts, taking her fork and sinking it on her chocolate cake, “We both like boats.”
“He’s a marine biologist, of course he likes boats,” Jayce restrains his need for rolling his eyes in exasperation; “And he likes you. Pathetically so.”
“… He’s my friend,” she repeats, and for a moment, it sounds like a tantrum and not like a grown woman stating a fact. It makes Jayce frown, speaking before his mind connects the dots.
“And am I not your friend?”
“Of course you’re my friend.”
But Viktoria rarely replies to his texts. She makes excuses to not hang out with him half the time. Just now, she left Jayce waiting for almost half an hour, their coffees growing cold, and she didn’t even apologize for it.
In most people, that would mean Viktoria wasn’t very interested in Jayce. But her honey eyes are at the edge of tears, and she swallows her cake so painfully that even Jayce feels the knot on her throat.
Oh, lovely little thing.
“You’re terrible at social norms, aren’t you?” Jayce whispers. He’s not patronizing about it; he’s not great at social norms either.
“People are complicated,” Viktoria replies, her lower lip shaking, “I don’t understand why.”
“… Well, for the record, he likes you,” Jayce forces himself to giggle, faking a soft smile, as if he were amused by it all - which he is, to some extent -; “He’s probably going to ask you out.”
“Eh… I think… He might have?” Viktoria looks at Jayce in fear, her shoulders down in defeat, “Oh, he – Dmitri said we should go to the aquarium.”
“Well, if you want to…”
“But I don’t like him,” and isn’t it adorable how honest she says so? How casual? There’s not an ounce of guilt on her voice, and she looks, mostly, uncomfortable at the idea.
“Make up something. He will get the hint.” Probably.
“But I want to go to the aquarium. They have penguins.”
Jayce takes his coffee, tasting the espresso and rejoicing on the inside. “Then I’ll take you. Set the date.”
They go to the aquarium. Viktoria speaks so much about boats and fish that she uses her inhaler twice, and she lets Jayce buy her an octopus plushie, and he lets her pay for two iced sugary drinks after the tour.
(Viktoria finishes her cherry drink in less than five minutes. Jayce throws two thirds of his to the trash).
“I need to pass by the drugstore,” Viktoria says when Jayce offers her a ride, leaning into her cane to take out a prescription, “I don’t want to bother you.”
“It’s fine. I really don’t have anything else to do,” Jayce lies, and he walks next to her a few streets (and he pretends to not notice her leg flinching, her slow steps, her jaw clenching. He cares, and he would carry her if she allowed it, but Jayce has learned that Viktoria’s possessive of her freedom. One time a guy took her cane after class and handed it to her with a stupid smile, and she had shaken in fury and impotence for almost three hours). When they reach the drugstore, it’s already dark outside, and Jayce is almost glad they entered the sterilized place.
Viktoria goes straight to the pharmacy area, waiting in line after an elder couple. Jayce walks around, picking up a few chocolates (for Viktoria), electrolytes (for him), a science magazine (for Viktoria) and condoms (for them, if he gets lucky one of these days). Jayce goes, pays and returns just in time to watch Viktoria give her prescription to the employee.
“Oxycodone,” a guy of long black hair and emo-like tattoos says as he reads the indications, “And it is for you?”
“Yes. The prescription says Viktoria Reveck, and I am Viktoria Reveck,” she seems used to this question, taking out her ID, “It’s for my leg,” and she lifts her cane for a moment, clearly tired of enduring the situation in what must be a daily basis.
“Let me just verify, okay?” the employee puts on a client service smile, the kind that means ‘Yeah, as if, idiot,’ and that makes Jayce want to break his pierced nose. Thankfully, piltovian medical system is decent enough to work, and the employee’s smile disappears as he sees in screen what definitely is the confirmation of Viktoria’s prescription.
“My apologies. Everything is in order. Give me a second,” the employee disappears, allowing Viktoria to sigh. Jayce clears his throat, knowing that if he touched her shoulder she would jump in shock and get awkward for days.
“Isn’t that med like, hella strong?”
“Allegedly,” Viktoria says, putting both of her hands over her cane (the silver one, the one covered in stickers and stars). “I suppose I shall see.”
The employee comes back with Viktoria’s orange bottle. He seems to be truly embarrassed – or afraid Jayce will break his bones –, apologizing again and gifting them samples of perfume, makeup and sunscreen. Viktoria doesn’t take them, returning her now stamped prescription and meds to her purse.
Jayce takes the samples, but mostly because his mother was always a fan of those.
“Hey,” he calls her days later, vaping lazily inside of his car, parked close to Viktoria’s favorite cafeteria. “How are you doing?”
“Hm. Not good,” Viktoria says, unaware that Jayce knows it, that he’s watching her drinking her frappucino in her favorite table with bruised knees and bloody knuckles. She fell while going to order, losing control of her legs and cane like Jayce had never seen. Everyone had looked at Viktoria in scandal, too many people reaching to help, which only made her feel worse to the point she went and hid in the women’s restroom for forty minutes. Jayce, watching through his window, had almost gotten off his car decided to walk into that restroom.
“Really? Why?” he asks, pretending he’s not seeing her shake like a hurt kitten.
“I’m dizzy,” she admits, taking a napkin to clean her tears before they fall down to her cheeks, “And, hm, my stomach hurts.”
“Sounds horrible,” he finishes smoking, putting his vape away and pulling down the back windows so the smell starts to go away, “Are you home, then?”
“No. I am out. I think I will call an uber,” Viktoria, for the first time since Jayce met her, pushes her sugary drink aside. She’s really dizzy, then. Maybe even nauseous.
(Jayce tries to not think of Viktoria throwing up. It makes his dick interested).
“I can pick you up, perhaps. I am just leaving that pizza place we liked,” he’s quick to lie, turning on his car to begin his way to the other side of the street.
“Oh. I’m at the vegan cafeteria,” Viktoria hiccups, eager and needy, “Maybe I could walk to where you are. If you…”
“Nonsense,” Jayce insists, already smiling as he turns around, already taking a turn and parking in front of the cafeteria, “I’m already here. Put on your glasses, Vikki.”
She does, and then she looks at Jayce, and smiles in relief.
“Thank you,” she says as he walks her to her door, a mess from head to toes, leaning into Jayce’s shoulders and allowing him to take her waist so she wouldn’t fall, “Thank you, Jayce. Truly.”
This time Jayce stays outside of her door. He waits for an hour, takes out his key, walks in, and watches Viktoria asleep on the couch, weak and vulnerable.
Jayce bites his tongue until it bleeds, takes off Viktoria’s glasses and leaves it over her tea-table. He watches her breath for around another hour before kneeling down, sniffing her fully (she’s not bleeding today. She smells different when she does) and then, risking it, he leans down and bites her right tit over her green sweater and bra.
Rio, the cat, enters the living. She meows comfortably at him, used to his scent after so many visits, and jumps to his leg to purr.
It’s pure enough that it makes Jayce get up and leave.
The main issue is that Viktoria is everything Jayce is weak to.
She’s kind, brilliant, and she’s painfully pure and virgin despite the novels she reads and the tiny red flower vibrator she hides on her last drawer next to a bottle of lube and disinfectant wipes. Viktoria’s the kind of girl who has only read about sex, maybe watched it a few times – unlikely, given that she reads about wolf hybrids breeding fairies –, but she has never experienced it.
(Jayce wonders if this Viktoria is relatively new. Or did she hide her books and little toy on a corner of her room at her parents’ house? Certainly she couldn’t let her táta and dad know what she was doing, right? It would be shameful to be walked in with two fingers inside of her cunt after reading about how a princess was raped by her knight.
So perhaps this Viktoria is new, a version Jayce has seen develop in real time, a dirty little virgin ready to become someone’s whore. And if someone is going to be her owner, then it will be Jayce).
Jayce finds hilarious that she’s a genius currently working in research that might change the world, yet she cannot understand when men (or women) flirt with her. Viktoria is also oblivious to the fact that Jayce is terribly, unhealthily obsessed with her.
Otherwise, she wouldn’t have invited Jayce over to study and work on their projects knowing that she could fall asleep at any moment given the change of her medication. Something that just happened, and currently has Jayce watching her sleep once again.
This time, however, Viktoria fell asleep on his shoulder. She’s wearing a yoga set she uses for her physical therapy sessions, loose and white, her curls away from her face in a ponytail, her feet naked over the carpet and giving Jayce the nastiest thoughts about those pink-polished toenails and her fragile ankles that he could probably break with just one hand.
(Fuck, he will need at least two hours at the gym tonight. Either that or find someone to hook up with so that he doesn’t snap at the prey he has followed for months).
Viktoria’s asleep, looking lovely, all easy and available for Jayce to use. So use her he does after a few minutes of internal debate.
Jayce turns her around, and carefully, puts her over the couch. He allows himself to kiss her lips, chaste and short, and then he sniffs her neck and armpits, losing himself on her sweat that smells of vanilla and whipped cream. Doesn’t every hunter wish to enjoy his prey, after all? Why would he rush it?
Jayce stays like that for a while, rock hard and simply moving his nose through her covered body, growling and squeezing her petite thighs, her plump butt, her braless tits. And then, deciding that he cannot risk Viktoria’s hymen leaving blood over the couch or her clothes, he settles for taking out his phone and, after pulling up her blouse and pulling down her pants with all and those beige high-rise briefs she likes so much, he takes seven pictures of her.
Viktoria’s tiny pale tits of pink nipples now say hello to Jayce’s gallery. So does her bush, trying to hide her pink, swollen pussy from Jayce’s eyes, but it fails after Jayce uses two fingers to spread her labia open, revealing the prettiest little pussy he has seen, her virginity visible in her cunt, a cute mole on her fat lips, her clit swollen and begging to be touched even when Jayce hasn’t touched her at all.
The smell of her natural wetness makes Jayce growl, and he dresses her back as fast as he can to later run to her bathroom and lock himself in.
There, Jayce licks his fingers and watches the pictures again and again as he jerks off, his cock begging to be inside of Viktoria and painful as he comes over Viktoria’s perfectly clean mirror of golden borders and acrylic flowers. The Hello Kitty curtains watch him in horror and accusation as he cleans his mess, breathing loudly, shaking after the best orgasm he has had.
(He takes so long cleaning and refreshing himself that he doesn’t notice Viktoria gets up from the couch, walks until her back is against the door of the bathroom, and then lets her hand sneak to the inside of her pants, the other holding her cane.
Jayce doesn’t see Viktoria biting her lips, nor her hips shaking as she comes in silence, then going back to the couch and returning to the exact same position Jayce had left her in. A cute smile on her face).
“You know he likes you, right?” Heimerdinger hums as he chooses between wines. He and Viktoria had decided to get some supplies for dinner while Singed finished working, and in the process, Heimerdinger had met the famous Jayce Viktoria talked about to them every weekend.
Jayce Talis reminded him of a big, fluffy dog. One that wasn’t very good at hiding how his tail wagged the exact moment he had seen Viktoria in the pasta section.
“I suppose he does,” Viktoria murmurs, picking up the giant bear plushie she had simply picked up and added to the cart (she knew her dad would never say no), “He’s nice. And smart.”
And exactly your type, Heimerdinger doesn’t say as he settles for a red wine, smiling to his daughter and pushing the cart slow enough for her leg to follow up.
“Well, just be careful,” Heimerdinger speaks in zaunite, stepping into his toes and raising his hand until he can reach the nose of his daughter. She has been taller than him since she got fourteen, but to him, she’s still that tiny shy child building boats by the river. “You know, Viktoria, your táta…”
“My táta can’t keep asking his boss for favors,” Viktoria whispers, zaunite as well, her honey eyes looking down in childish sadness. She returns the plushie to the cart, picks up her cane, and takes a few steps towards the cereal aisle, “I know. I am not a kid.”
“Of course not, dearest.”
“And I liked Darius,” she brings up, pursing her lips and giving Heimerdinger a look akin to annoyance. Mostly it’s pain and nostalgia. “He was nice to me.”
“… Well, that’s why I sent flowers,” Heimerdinger pushes the cart, and points at it with his head until Viktoria sighs, following him just like she did when younger. “Now, tell me more about this Talis boy.”
When winter arrives in Piltover, Jayce asks Viktoria to be his girlfriend as they play Minecraft at 2am.
Viktoria says yes.