jayce talis was going to revolutionise the future of hextech. nay, the future of piltover itself. he was the golden boy, the man of progress. whether that be in the eyes of the topsiders, or the omnipresent councillors, jayce would outperform all.

slowly, this pressure accumulated.

it built up egregiously behind his eyes, in his temples, his shoulder blades, the insides of his throat. and the only way for jayce to channel this emotion was the forge; where he was working on the mercury hammer.

this invention would be his crowning achievement, his downfall, his everything. no matter which way it was printed, this hammer was penultimate.

sometimes, in the heated dark belly of the forge, jayce would scream as loud as his throat could provide. no one would hear it over the hissing steam and clanking metal, anyway. and sometimes he thought of you. you happened to be another one of his outlets.

now, the muscles of his back rippled, an olive-coloured symphony of tangible flesh. there were faint scratches marring the smoothness too, courtesy of you. jayce was always shirtless, as the heat elicited unbearable pools of sweat. there was dirt and grease smeared over his handsome face, only serving to accentuate the absolute hazel of his irises.

grunting filled the room, proof of his effort and strength. he could overcome this. he would overcome this. it was who he was. when you appeared behind his bare back, jayce let out a soft breath, wiping his forehead with a random ragged towel.

“hey, baby,” he husked, voice edged raw by previous anger. and the great sweaty muscled mass of him leaned back into you, familiar as ever. “shouldn’t you be up with the other councillors, planning? ‘cause i’m busy, and i do have to get back to work.”

his little gap-toothed smile could never escape your notice.