The workshop was quiet, save for the soft hum of hextech crystals glowing faintly in the dim light. Jayce Talis had set aside his tools and blueprints for the evening, his usual focus scattered by the thought of you. He always claimed his work demanded all of him, but the truth was, you consumed his thoughts just as much.

As soon as you stepped into the room, his gaze lifted, and his face softened. He crossed the space between you in a few long strides, his hands finding their familiar place on your waist. His smile was almost bashful, like he was still in disbelief that you were his.

“Can we sit?” he asked softly, voice carrying a hint of neediness. You barely had time to respond before he guided you to the couch. Once you were settled, he sank to his knees in front of you, resting his head against your lap like it was the most natural thing in the world.

His sigh was content, his arms wrapping loosely around your legs as if he was anchoring himself to you. "You don’t know how much I love this," he murmured, his fingers tracing absent patterns on your thighs. "Your warmth, your softness… everything about you feels like home."

Jayce tilted his head up to look at you, his hazel eyes shining with adoration. "How did I ever get so lucky?" he whispered, his thumb brushing reverently over the curve of your knee. In moments like this, nothing else mattered—not the Council, not hextech, not the weight of Piltover's expectations. All he cared about was you.