Shivering, you knelt in front of one of the many ovens and stretched out your hands towards the glowing heat. Water dripped from every fold of your clothes, the ends of your hair and the soles of your shoes.

A small pool was already forming around you. The floor of the forge was dusty or full of ash, it was hard to tell. The air was dry, hot.

You could smell the molten metal resting in the crucibles. It was tidy enough for a place where you worked. Still, the touch of the rain's cold had already burned deep into your body. The tips of your fingers trembled, felt as if they had turned to ice and might snap off at any moment.

In complete contrast, Jayce was lightly clothed. Or barely. He wore simple brown leather trousers and scuffed boots. A scrap of dirty cloth hung from his belt, on which he now wiped his hands. On the other side hung a pair of leather gloves.

The rest of him was bare. He wasn't wearing a shirt or anything to protect his upper body from the heat and sparks. Soot stuck to his tanned skin.

"You should shed your coat.", he said, tossing a tool onto the workbench next to him.

Fleetingly, you glanced over your shoulder.

Fully clothed, you could have guessed that he was strongly built. But the man rummaging through a crate behind you was muscular.

Every movement seemed like that of a cat, smooth and fast. His shoulder blades pressed between his curved back and when he turned round, the sight was impressive.

As you would expect, he had a broad chest with visibly defined pecs and abs. Unlike many men, he did not narrow at the hips but remained broad. He was a giant in every respect.

With care, he knelt down next to you and began to peel the damp coat from your shoulders. A slight tremor ran through your body as the protective layer disappeared. Now all that remained was your wet shirt and trousers.

There was even water in your boots. You hated the feeling of a second skin, sticky and wet. Your lips were trembling.

"I only have this.", Jayce offered you an old, dirty shirt. "But it's dry and warmed by the oven."

When your fingertips touched the fabric, you involuntarily sighed softly.

"Thank the arcane.", you whispered and fiddled with the buttons on your wet top.

The first two buttons opened quickly. A (S/C) chest covered in goose bumps was revealed. The warm air of the oven made your mouth twist.

Jayce's gaze fell on the exposed skin. For a moment he seemed to forget what he wanted to do, swallowed hard and had to moisten his lips with his tongue.

"Is there anything to see?", you asked, your eyes closed in thought, savouring the warmth.

Although you couldn't see him, you could feel the weight of his eyes on your body as clearly as if he were standing with one foot on your chest. A twitch chased through his body. His cheeks flushed, he averted his eyes and cleared his throat.

"Maybe I can find a pair of trousers.", he mumbled more to himself than to you, already pushing the shirt in your direction. "But shoes... probably not."

"I can go barefoot.", you returned, slipping into the shirt, soft and a little scratchy with ash.

"That's dangerous."

He had already turned his back on you again. Your eyes followed the movement of his back muscles, how the soot spread over his tanned skin like a second layer of himself.

He was the son of a toolmaker. An inventor who wallowed in the dirt. Now, in the golden yellow light of the glowing coals surrounded by black brass and ash and soot, he looked more like he belonged in this place.

Not in the gleaming houses of Piltover. He didn't feel comfortable there and it showed. In this moment he seemed livelier, more alert and full of vigour. He knew his way around this place. He felt safe here, as part of the forge.

As the heart.

"Dangerous...", you grinned tiredly, stood up and knocked the wet boots off your feet. "I don't mind a bit of excitement."

The socks were so soaked that the rainwater dripped out of them as you hung them over a bucket of glowing coals. A hiss broke the silence as a drop of water fell in and steam rose in response.

"It's not exciting when you accidentally step on a hot tool.", he replied and immediately had to look at his feet.

The (H/C) hair had already dried a little and was now sticking to your forehead like paper. The water from the clouds made it feel dirty, covered in dust and then dried to a paste.

A slight shiver gripped Jayce's shoulders as you came closer, your breath brushing the back of his bare neck. Hands clenched into fists, nails filthy with labour.

"What is that?", you pointed to the table he was bent over.

Masses of metal and screws lay scattered on it, tools, plates and material whose purpose you could not recognise. A thin layer of dust had spread across the surface, with deep grooves carved into the wood. Signs of pencils and faded paint could still be seen on it.

"Things.", he replied, casting a furtive glance over his shoulder.

Your eyes met. Cautious green met curious (E/C). A smirk grew on your lips as you raised your eyebrows.

"I'm the last person to tell you off for buying stuff from the Undercity.", you teased him.

A muscle twitched in his jaw. He was still staring at you. You weren't sure if he wanted to hit you. Or whether you wanted to kiss him.

But there was this hammering in your chest. Your heart almost wanted to climb into your throat. How exciting, you thought to yourself and had to smile at yourself.

Then, suddenly, he turned round slowly. Now you were both facing each other.

"Sometimes I wonder if you play the game better than Mel after all.", he finally said.