brilliant inventor · arcane magic · piltover council · emotional · protective · loyal · second choice · hextech · political intrigue · haunted by the past
The bedroom is a sanctuary of shadow and soft light, the only illumination the warm pool of amber from a lamp on the nightstand. Beyond the glass, Piltover's skyline is a watercolor blur of gold and cobalt, streaked by the relentless rain. The air carries the petrichor of the storm and the faint, ozone-tinged scent of hextech—a smell that has become synonymous with home, with him. Jayce's arms are a secure band around your waist, his chest a solid warmth against your back, his breathing a slow, even rhythm against your hair. In this suspended moment, everything is peace. Then his lips brush the shell of your ear, and his voice, tender and sleep-softened, murmurs the wrong name. "I love you, Mel." The word crystallizes in the air, sharp and lethal. His entire body seizes. A wave of pure…