#Mel is not having a great time lately | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

shouyuus · 25 days ago

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─── Ⅵ CHAPTER ONE: SHUT UP AND KISS ME

violet; 4,711 words; fluff, enemies to lovers, fake dating, hockey!vi, figure skater!reader, wlw, the gays can't communicate, college parties, toxic ex!cait, impulsive!reader, drama as all living fuck, no "y/n"

summary: in which you decide to go to yet another party vi's going to be at. consequences ensue.

a/n: i know its late but its still the 30th in cali!!! enjoy the ENEMIES part of enemies to lovers!!!! <3

< table of contents

─── Ⅵ IT TURNS OUT THAT Vi does, in fact, remember you. And, it also seems like she’s the type to hold a grudge.

Because three days later, when you’re running through a few off-ice warmups while the hockey team finishes up their morning practice, you distinctly hear her challenging one of her teammates to a race even as everyone else is clearing off the ice.

You groan, dropping back onto the bench and frowning as you start to lace up your skates.

“Great, now I’ve gotta skate on fucked up ice before the mid-day zamboni — really fucking great —”

“Got something you wanna say to my face, princess?”

Your eyes jerk up, and there’s Vi, standing not even a foot from you, her helmet tucked under one arm, her stick in the other, her hair a sweat-slicked mess that somehow still looks infuriatingly attractive. You narrow your eyes.

“Nope. Just… talking to myself.”

“I… don’t think so, sweetcheeks,” she says, taking a few steps forward even as you stand up. Like this, your eyes are barely level, your own skates giving you a solid few inches, but she still manages to look down at you as a smirk twists her lips.

You puff out a breath, feeling a wild thumping curling up your throat as you stare up at her, your fingertips going cold even as heat rushes into your cheeks.

“Fine,” you say, “you’re really that curious?”

Vi shrugs, “I mean, you seem to like dolling out unsolicited opinions so,” she pins you with a harsh look, “What’s another one to add to the collection, huh?”

You stiffen, and for a second, something breaks in Vi’s expression before it melds back into one of caustic curiosity. She looks like a beartrap sprung on a hair-pin trigger, her jaw clenched, her eyes hard.

“Huh, never thought you’d be such a glutton for punishment,” you say, the words dripping from you, slow as poison, and somewhere in the back of your mind, your fight or flight response is telling you that this is a bad, bad idea, but you can’t seem to stop yourself from taking half a step closer, even though Vi’s probably twice your size and can bench three times your body weight — “But then again, you did stay in a relationship with an emotionally manipulative bitch who swapped you out the second she could get her hands on someone better —”

“Shut the fuck up, you don’t know anything —!”

“Hey, hey!” A pair of large hands yanks Vi back just as she’s about to lunge towards you; another thinner pair of arms loops through yours, tugging you back a few steps.

“You stay the fuck out of this, Jayce!”

“Darling, what on earth is going on?” you turn to find Mel, her cheeks dusted in gold, her hands firm on your arms, as Jayce forcibly wrangles Vi back.

You swallow around the vitriol threatening your lips and shake your head, turning away from Vi.

“Nothing, just… I was annoyed that the hockey team always fucks up the ice after their practices —”

“Oh, you think we fuck up the ice?” Vi’s voice cracks like a gunshot in the vast rink, and several of the other girls from the hockey team have come jogging back, placing their hands on Vi’s shoulders to keep her from steamrollering into you. “You know how much precious practice time we’ve wasted filling up those massive holes you guys leave with your stupid little toe-pick jumps?”

You roll your eyes, anger flaring hot and high in the pit of your stomach.

“Oh, so sorry, didn’t know you guys could still see with the sustained brain damage you all must have from slamming into each other all the time.”

“Fuck you.”

You scoff, twisting back with a viperous smirk.

“In your wildest dreams, six.”

Vi’s eyebrows shoot up. “Oh… didn’t know you knew my number, princess.”

“It’s written on your face — or have all your previous hookups been so stupid they can’t even read —”

“And what kind of tomfoolery is this?”

Everyone freezes at the sound of Amara’s voice. You bite down on your lips and take a step back as the small, gray-haired woman strides through, her hands behind her back, her chin held high.

“Sorry, Amara — it’s nothing,” Jayce says, jerking Vi behind him as she tries to open her mouth to speak.

“It doesn’t sound like nothing to me,” Amara says, her words smooth as a river in spring thaw, and nearly just as frigid.

Guilt creeps up your spine as she scans over the hockey team with marked distaste.

“Perhaps I ought to let Vander know that his girls are once again causing a —”

“Don’t, Amara. It was — it was my fault.” You shake off Mel’s hands and slot yourself between Jayce and Amara, ignoring the the disbelieving snort from Vi.

Amara’s eyes land on you, and for a second, they soften. Still, she tilts her head, eyes sharp as a hawks as you twist your fingers behind your back.

“Your fault, darling?”

You nod, “Yeah, I — I was annoyed that they were carving up the ice, so I — I picked a fight —”

Amara sighs, “Yes… well, I can’t blame you, but you know it’s not good rink etiquette.”

“I know,” you say, hanging your head.

Amara tuts, “As long as you know,” she reaches up to pat your cheek before marching off towards the rink-side boxes to set up the music. Behind you, Jayce releases Vi’s arms with a sigh.

“Martyr,” Vi coughs as she shoulders passed you, flanked by a few of the hockey girls, casting dirty looks over their shoulders before disappearing into the locker rooms.

You close your eyes, take three deep breaths, and then step onto the ice.

“It was an ass thing to say.”

“As long as you know —”

“But I feel like she took it way too seriously, y’know?”

Jayce sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose as he slumps down into the booth in the dining commons, shoving half an entire banana into his mouth as he pins you with a look.

“Or maybe, you can just apologize —”

You crinkle your nose, prodding at your yogurt bowl, toying with a spoonful of blueberry flavored granola.

“Can’t you just… like tell her I’m sorry or something?” you ask, pushing out your bottom lip in a signature pout. Jayce only swallows the rest of the banana before digging into a truly dauntingly sized ham and cheese sandwich.

“’m not doing your dirty work for you,” he says, his expression lighting up as Mel slides gracefully into the booth next to you, pressing a napkin into her lap.

“And what’s this about dirty work?” she asks, a teasing grin on her lips.

You sigh, “I’m asking very nicely —”

Jayce holds up a hand, “No, you’re trying to get me to apologize to Vi for you — which basically defeats the whole point of an apology.”

“No! It’s because I know you guys are like… platonic gym soulmates or — whatever —” you wave your hands through the air even as Mel laughs into her salad.

Jayce huffs, “Or,” he catches Mel’s eye, and you feel a distinct spate of unease work it’s way down your spine at the way Mel’s lips split into a devious grin.

“Or?” you prompt, setting down your spoon and sitting back, looking between the pair of them with mounting apprehension.

Mel gently places a hand on your arm, “You could just apologize to her yourself —”

“At the party this Saturday —”

“No — no way —” you put up both hands, “the last time I went to a party with you guys —”

“You got to make out with the hottest girl on the entire hockey team,” Mel soothes.

You bite your lips, eyes cutting down to your lap. You hadn’t told her. You hadn’t told anyone. So far as she and Jayce knew, the only slight against Vi you’d made is calling her ex a ‘manipulative bitch’, which — well.

“Right, and now she hates me.”

Mel sniffs, “You can’t be that bad at kissing. I refuse to believe it.”

Jayce snickers; Mel shoots him a glare. He reaches for the bag of free chips and pops it open with one hand.

“C’mon, what’s the worst that could happen? You offer her another kiss to make up for your little tantrum the other day?” Mel asks, flicking a thin, gold-laced braid over her shoulder.

You groan, sinking into your seat as you fold your arms over your chest, weighing the options.

You did feel bad for what you’d said. But you also tried to shield her from what you’re sure would’ve been much worse than what she’d gotten given Amara’s track record of tattling to Vander.

And then, unbidden, comes the memory of Vi’s sultry grin as she’d pinned you against the frat house door, her mouth inches from yours, the solid muscles of her torso pushing against yours as she’d leaned in and —

“— at a sorority house, so the space’ll be much nicer,” Mel promises, turning towards you again, her eyes expectant.

You blink, your mind catching up to her words a second later as you sigh.

“I — sure, fine — but I can’t stay too long. I’ve got Skate America in two weeks —”

Jayce ruffles your hair, “Yeah, so do we.”

You shove his massive arm off you with a half-hearted glare, “Yeah, but I’m not made like you guys. I can’t just literally skate into a podium. I actually have to practice.”

“Oh don’t get all shy now, little miss triple axel.”

“I’ve only landed it twice in practice, and I’m pretty sure one of them was underrotated —”

Mel shakes her head, “And there she goes again —”

“Always so humble —” Jayce adds.

You groan and bury your face in your arms, “Will you leave me alone?”

Mel laughs, “We will if you come to the party on Saturday,” she sing-songs, nudging you with her elbow.

Jayce slings an arm around your shoulders, shaking you slightly.

“And Vi’s for sure going.”

You peak up at him, “How… do you know?”

Jayce smirks, “Cause. Her ex is gonna be there.

You blink.

“Oh.”

Mel pillows her cheek on her palm, tapping her perfectly manicured nails along the table, a Cheshire-grin spread across her lips like warm butter.

“With her new girlfriend.”

You whip around towards her.

“Oh.”

This was a terrible idea, you think, as you step into the sorority house, tugging on the edge of your dress, the hem of which barely skims your mid-thigh, the modest, high-necked front contrasted with the plunging back line that settles in a graceful slope of material just above the curve of your ass.

“Quit fidgeting,” Mel says, slapping at your hand as you try once again to readjust the bottom of the dress.

“I can’t — I feel like I’m gonna flash the world — and it’s a tossup if it’s the front of the back!” you hiss, jerking the hemline of the dress down as it slowly starts to ride up your thigh again.

Mel tuts, “Please, as if this is anywhere near as short as the performance outfits that we have to wear —”

“That’s different!” you insist, reaching out to grab two cups of something and shoving one at Mel, “We’ve got tights on under those!”

Mel rolls her eyes, sniffing at the drink before making a face and dropping it off on a random surface. You take an absent sip of your own drink, gagging immediately at the taste.

“Eugh, oh god what do they put in those?” you ask, dropping your own solo cup on a table as Mel drags you through the shifting crowd.

The party’s already going in full swing, but she’d been right, the space is nicer — wider and less cramped, the ceilings high and the music less abrasive.

“Where’re we going?” you ask, even as Mel guides you towards the heart of the party and somehow manages to conjure up two glasses of what looks like champagne, handing one to you, and taking a sip of the other one herself.

“Finding Vi,” she says, to which you balk, shaking your head.

“Mel!”

She turns with an exasperated sigh, “What?”

“C-can’t we just —” you motion towards the party, “try to have a good time? I mean — maybe she’s not here — maybe she wanted to have a quiet night in —”

“Speak of the devil —” Mel’s face breaks into a grin as she spots someone over your shoulder and you whip around to see —

Caitlyn Kiramman, the veritable goddess of track and field, all dark hair and endless long legs, standing there with her new girlfriend Maddie Nolen, a cute, if slightly awkward girl, with strawberry blond hair cropped in a truly abominable bob-cut.

The room seems to part for them, Caitlyn tugging Maddie forward with their fingers laced, looking not so unlike the Queen of England, followed by her loyal procession of ginger-backed corgis.

You take a few steps back, watching them with raised brows, wondering what on earth Caitlyn might’ve seen in Maddie, given that she’d had Vi seemingly wrapped around her pinky finger just months before.

But then, you see Vi — her expression caught somewhere between hurt and barely scraped together bravado, her fists at her sides as Caitlyn also spots her, approaching with Maddie half a step behind.

“Fancy seeing you here, Violet,” Caitlyn says, her voice carrying over the crowd even as everyone tries to avert their gaze or pretend like they aren’t listening in.

Vi puffs out her chest, “Sure, yeah. Super fancy. What, d’you think I’d be banned from the sorority house or something?”

Caitlyn shrugs, “Something like that.”

Vi narrows her eyes, her knuckles going white, “Sorry cupcake, ‘fraid not even you can keep me from havin’ a good time.”

“So I see,” Caitlyn says. Maddie peers around her shoulder with wide eyes and a shy smile.

“Name’s Maddie, it’s nice to meet —”

“See you’ve already replaced me,” Vi says, folding her arms over her chest, her biceps bulging, the vein in her jaw ticking dangerously as she looks Maddie over.

Caitlyn smirks, “See you haven’t.”

Vi seems to deflate slightly at that, her arms coming loose, “Actually I —”

You find yourself moving before you can stop yourself, pushing through the gathering crowd till you can throw your arms around Vi’s neck, bowling into her with a simpering squeal of —

“Vi! There you are! I’ve been looking all over for you!”

Vi’s expression morphs from one of shock to a momentary flash of suspicion as you meet her eyes and bat your lashes in what you hope is an inconspicuous way before turning towards Caitlyn and Maddie, a 100-watt smile hitched over your lips.

“Oh! And who’s this?”

Caitlyn narrows her eyes, looking you over with an imperialistic eye.

“Caitlyn — Kiramman… pleasure.”

“Oh wow! You’re the — the girl who’s really good at hurdles, right?” you say, even as Vi stifles a laugh at your side, her hand settling around your waist.

Caitlyn’s eyes harden as her lips thin into a pale line. Anyone who knows her would know that hurdles are her worst discipline, and that she’d dropped nearly every single one on her last major competition.

“And I’m Maddie… Nolen. So you must be —” Maddie reaches out, but not before Caitlyn takes your hand instead.

“The Ice Princess — our very own Olympic hopeful. Best of luck to you in the Grand Prix series this year. I heard you had something of a nasty fall early in your season last time… you oughtta be more careful this time around,” Caitlyn says, looking you up and down, even as you smile up at her, blissfully sweet and unbothered. Your cheeks are starting to hurt.

“Oh, don’t worry,” you flap your hand, crinkling your nose as you lean forward, using the motion to reach down and give Vi’s hand a soft squeeze, your eyes pinned on Caitlyn’s as you say —

“I never make the same mistake twice.”

And before she has the chance to respond, her jaw dropping open, you turn towards Vi with a bright grin, placing a palm against her chest, leaning right into her space.

“C’mon, let’s go get a drink, hm?”

“Y-yeah, princess — sure —”

You tug her away before the facade crumbles entirely, the pair of you dodging around curious eyes till you end up in the thankfully empty kitchen. Her hand pulls from yours the second you close the door behind you.

“What the hell —”

You hold up both your hands, falling back three steps to put some distance between you and her.

“Look, I’m sorry, okay? It — it just looked like…” you shrug, casting your eyes around the kitchen even as Vi huffs, folding her arms across her chest to lean back against the door, “It looked like you could use a hand, that’s all.”

“I didn’t need anyone to rescue me,” she snipes, her voice hardening around the edges.

You nod, “Yeah, I know. But…”

“But what?”

You swallow, turning your back to Vi as you pace around the large, marble-tiled kitchen, “I — I felt bad for — for what I said last time… so…”

You turn around just in time to catch Vi’s incredulous expression, seconds before she breaks into a sharp bark of laughter.

“Wow, my hero — my very own white-knight. Really, who needs Prince Charming when you’ve got —”

“Okay! I get it — you didn’t need saving — holy shit you don’t have to rub it in.”

You sigh, leaning up against the kitchen island, glaring down at a half-empty bottle of vodka sitting in the sink before reaching out to grab it and rummaging around for two empty shot glasses.

Vi watches you with an amused grin twitching at her lips.

Finally, you manage to find a few shot glasses tucked into the far corner of a cupboard. You stand on your tiptoes, but your fingers don’t quite reach. And a second later, a body presses solid and warm to your back as Vi’s hand reaches in to pull two of the glasses out, placing them squarely on the counter.

She shoots you a lopsided grin as you watch her expertly pull two shots from the vodka bottle and slide one towards you.

“Mazel,” she smirks, tossing it back and smacking her lips.

You eye your own shot for a second longer before squeezing your eyes shut and tossing it back as well, immediately coughing, fighting to keep your gag reflex from taking over, pressing the back of your hand to your lips.

Vi’s laughter is loud, but not unkind as she reaches out to tug the shot glass from you, setting everything back into the sink.

“So. You’re felt bad, did you?”

You groan, dropping your head into your arms.

“I mean — yeah — it was —” you take a deep breath, bracing your palms against the kitchen island, eyes fixed on where your fingertips are slowly going white, “It was a shitty thing to say.”

“Mm. Which one? Mentioning my breakup right before I was about to kiss you? Or calling my ex a manipulative bitch?”

You wince, chewing on the inside of your cheek, though when you look up, it’s to find Vi smiling.

“Either? Both? Ugh… alcohol makes me —” you gesture at your head, wiggling your fingers as Vi watches, her smile sliding from amused into indulgent, “misplace the brain-mouth barrier a bit.”

“Yeah? And uh… do you skate drunk a lot? Or was that little exposition special just for me?”

You swallow, feeling the heat of the vodka creeping back up your throat as your cheeks prickle.

“That was…” you trail off, crinkling your nose as you cast about for a plausible response, but coming up empty, you sag against the kitchen counter, throwing up your hands, “I just — I’m not the best with impulsivity, okay?”

Vi chuckles, nodding, “So… I can see — I mean, even without the shouting match at the rink, that stunt you pulled back there with Cait —” she lets out a low whistle, shaking her head, “Gotta say, princess, I’m impressed. Pretending to be my new girlfriend in front of her new girlfriend? That’s… that’s ballsy.”

You let out another groan, sliding down the side of the kitchen island to sit on the floor, pulling your knees into your chest and glaring half-heartedly at the bottom of the fridge. A second later, Vi flops down to join you, an arm propped on her knee, her eyes caught on the shape of you, your pouty lips and the slope of your nose.

“Seriously though, when you made that hurdles comment — I almost lost it —”

You break into a bright peal of laughter, head thumping back against the cupboards as Vi allows herself a chuckle.

“Yes, yes — I’m kind of bitch. Point made,” you say, casting her a sidelong glance.

She shrugs, “Then I guess I’ve got a type, so…”

You bite down on your bottom lip, mulling over her words.

“So?” you ask.

She sighs, “So. What’s next?”

You frown, “Next?”

She fixes you with an incredulous look, “Yeah. Like — what comes after you so gallantly rescuing me from my oh-so-wicked ex by announcing that we’re dating in front of half our graduating class?”

You open your mouth, gaping at her.

A second passes. Then another.

Vi stares. Then, she bangs her head so loudly against the cupboards behind you you almost jump out of your skin.

“Come on! Are you kidding?! You’re telling me you did all this without any kind of plan?” She pushes to her feet seconds before you scramble up onto yours, frowning defensively in her direction.

“I told you! I’m — I’ve got an impulse problem and impulsivity doesn’t exactly lend itself to perfect foreplaning —”

But the pair of you break off as the unmistakable sounds of voices echoes down the hallway leading towards the kitchen. And in particular one voice — low and pitched and accented.

“Fuck —” Vi swears, looking suddenly stunned, her eyes wide, her whole body going rigid, “We’ve — we’ve gotta hide or something —”

You blink at her for a brief second before huffing out a breath and reaching up to jerk her down towards you. She barely catches herself against the counter, her hands braced on either side of your hips as you hiss against her lips —

“Oh c’mon — don’t be stupid —”

“What the hell are you —”

“Just shut up and kiss me —”

The door swings open behind you and laughter pours in, though it abruptly cuts off as Caitlyn freezes in the doorway, Maddie nearly smashing into her, and Mel behind her as everyone else jostles to try and see what the hold up is.

“Oh… whoops,” Maddie says, letting out an embarrassed chuckle as she tries to turn away from the sight of Vi and you caught in the throes of what looks like an intense make out session, Vi’s fingers digging divots into the skin of your hips, your fingers curling in her hair.

You let out a tiny whimper as Vi hoists you up onto the kitchen island, slotting herself between your legs, even as Caitlyn makes an affronted noise behind you, folding her arms.

“I see this room’s taken,” she says, voice flat and dangerous.

But Vi’s only response is to trail a hand up to your jaw, cupping it in her palm so she can slot her lips more comfortably against yours, letting out a satisfied hum at the way you soften into her as she sinks her teeth into you bottom lip.

Caitlyn scoffs, rolling her eyes even as Maddie tugs her back down the hallway. Everyone else jostles back into the main room as well, giggling and gossiping about this exciting new development.

Mel, though, clears her throat as she and Jayce share a look before closing the kitchen door behind them.

“Right, that’s enough you two —” she says, to very little avail.

Because somewhere between one breath and the next, you’d lost yourself to the feeling of Vi’s lips on yours, the heady, pulsing friction of her body as she cradles you against her, the way you can still taste the remnants of that vodka shot on her tongue as she licks into your mouth.

Faintly, you wonder if this might’ve turned out differently if you’d just kept quiet on that first night and let her kiss you in that dirty frat room.

But the thought is quickly dashed by a deep groan thrumming from Vi’s chest to yours as you lean back into the kiss, running your thumb down along her neck, pressing into the fluttering pulse point just below her jaw.

A whine curls up your throat as Vi’s fingers work beneath the hem of your little black dress, teasing at the skin of your thigh.

“Hey! Earth to horny lesbians!”

You pull back with a gasp, and Vi resurfaces as well, the both of you panting, your lips separating with a sound not unlike a plunger being released from a recently blocked sink. You feel your head spin, the room pressing in around you before expanding back out, even as Vi drags the back of her hand across her mouth, stumbling back a few steps.

“W-what?”

Jayce lets out a disbelieving laugh.

“Really? That’s what got you?”

Mel sighs, rolling her eyes, “I think it’s time you explain yourselves.”

You lick your lips, hopping off the kitchen island even as Vi runs a hand over her face, her eyes strangely fractured, her cheeks dusted high with color.

“Well you were the one that said I should offer her another kiss to make up for — Vi? Where are you going?”

But Vi’s already making for the door, her shoulders hunched, her fists clenched at her sides. You take a few steps towards her but stop dead as she runs a hand through her hair.

“Sorry — I — I gotta go —” her voice is hoarse, and the look on her face when she glances over her shoulders at you — that more than anything convinces you to let her go.

You like to think that you’d seen experienced a good number of human emotions on the broad spectrum. Skating forces you to tap into a lot of them — anger, excitement, joy, sorrow, jealousy, vindication, passion.

But you’d never seen someone look so utterly broken.

“Wait, Vi —” Jayce tries to stop her but Mel places a hand on his arm, and Vi brushes passed them both, disappearing into the darkness of the hallway beyond without another word.

You sag against the kitchen island as both Mel and Jayce turn their eyes back onto you.

“Right.” Mel rounds on you even as you shrink back against the fridge, chewing on your lips.

Jayce groans, looking between you and Mel before marching over to the table and pulling up a few chairs.

“Everyone sit. If we’re gonna talk about this, we might as well be comfortable.”

You eye the chairs for a few seconds before sliding over and dropping into one of them.

Mel perches on the edge of another as Jayce leans himself against the dining table, arms folded loosely across his chest.

“So?” Mel prods.

You take a deep breath.

“So… at that frat party… when me and Vi were… supposed to kiss? Yeah, well… we… kinda, sorta… didn’t.”

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abbyandersxnswife · 3 months ago

Text

Look for the Light ── ᖭི༏ᖫྀ

Canon Abby! x reader; apocalypse au!

Synopsis: You and Abby used to be best friends back in the Fireflies, but after her trip to Jackson, she makes it clear she no longer wants to be friends. If anything, she doesn't seem to even like you anymore. However, her actions keep stating otherwise...

Warnings for; Smut, switch Abby! Follows timeline of TLOU2

Word count: 3.9k

✦ ───────────────────── ✦

You didn't know Abby Anderson.

At least, not anymore.

Now she was just Issac's top Scar killer, another soldier in the WLF, another person like any other.

You arrived at Soundview Stadium a few months ago with a few other WLF soldiers, your patrol unit finally moving in after guarding a post near the Seraphites Island.

You still remembered the day you first ran into Abby again, surprised to see her returning from the lodge up in Jackson.

You didn't know how high she had climbed in the ranks with Issac then, all you knew then was that your old best friend was standing in front of you, walking with Owen and Mel- and you nearly knocked her over when you ran to give her a hug, burying your face in the crook of her neck, never so glad to smell the familiar scent of pine and vanilla. Abby had been strangely stiff, patting you awkwardly on the back like you hadn't spent nearly two years with her in the Fireflies.

Seeing her gave you hope, hope that you two could talk and make up for lost time, finally have some companionship- but that hope was quickly dashed when Abby made it clear to you that she didn't want that at all.

She had said it later on when you two were alone, your things finally unpacked in the tiny room. You had tried to ask her how she was doing, how Jackson went, if she was alright, but it all fell on deaf ears.

"Listen y/n..."

Abby had said, pausing for a moment, rubbing the back of her neck. It was as if she knew this wasn't a good idea, that the next words were words she couldn't take back.

"I don't think we should be friends, I know we used to be but that was a long time ago- I'm just not the person you used to know."

You had been hurt then, hoping she'd give you more of a reason, but Abby was silent, her once bright blue eyes cold and dim.

If Abby Anderson no longer wanted to be friends, if she wanted to pass by you in the hall like you didn't once know every detail about each other - fine.

Fine by you.

"Y/n?"

You opened your eyes groggily and opened the door to see Nora standing in the threshold.

"Hey, Issac wants you to report to him- says he's got the details for your latest mission"

You smiled, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes.

"Thanks, Nora, I'll be there in a sec"

You threw on some clothes before heading out, making your way up to Issac's office.

"Hey-"

You pushed open the door and saw Abby, Manny, and Issac already waiting for you, and felt your heart drop into your stomach at the sight of her.

"Ahhh, y/n there you are, now we can get started. A rogue group of Seraphites attacked a patrol yesterday down by the Eastbrook area- I want you guys to go in and sweep to make sure they're all gone. Bring any supplies you find back." Issac pointed to the map on the table for emphasis.

"Y/n, I know you haven't been on a mission with these two before but trust me, they're good. I can get your old crew for a different mission another time"

"No problem Issac, I can work with anyone"

"Great," Issac said before continuing, "When you return, we'll start drafting our plans to invade the Seraphites' Island, we can take the boats and see if we can defeat them on home territory."

Your gaze immediately darted to Abby, wondering what she thought of the news, but she only stared stubbornly ahead.

"Grab something to eat and then head out, take the truck, Manny."

"Alright, let's go guys"

Manny left, and you watched Abby leave as well, trailing behind them, sighing inwardly at the day ahead of you. Today's mission was gonna be a long one.

"The Seraphites have been growing bold lately"

Manny broke the silence, seemingly oblivious to the tension that lay between you and Abby.

The back of the truck was snug, Manny and Abby on one side, you on the other. Abby was looking anywhere but your face it seemed, and you sat there quietly, pretending like you weren't sneaking glances whenever you got the chance. After all, this was the closest you had been to her in years.

To be fair, you both equally avoided each other at base- she didn't want anything to do with you, so why would you bother with her?

"Yeah well they broke the treaty, if any of them are at Eastbrook we wipe the site and leave"

The air is chilly when you step out, you adjust your jacket and flip the safety off your gun.

"School looks deserted, but best if we just do a patrol of the site just to be sure. Abby, go with her, patrol the inside, I'll do a grounds check first"

Manny walks off, gun in hand, already entering an old school bus parked in front of the school.

"Come on" Abby says, and you follow her as she prys open the front door.

The interior of the school is a mess, the wallpaper of the walls peeling, desks pushed half hazardly into the hall. Sad shreds of streamers hang from the ceiling, every window smashed, the shards glistening on the floor.

You enter a classroom, pushing the door open with your gun.

Your eyes light up at the greenery inside, the schooldesks covered in a bed of moss, ivy hanging from holes in the ceiling.

"It's beautiful-" You say to yourself, bending down to pick up the remainders of the kids' drawings on the ground. You examine one, it's a picture of a house with what looks to be a horse-

"Can you stay focused? We're supposed to be looking for supplies"

Abby's voice cuts sharply through the silence, the only sound the rifling she's causing by searching through the desks.

You sigh and help her, retrieving a roll of bandages and a few packs of old batteries before moving onto the next room.

Abby finds the cafeteria at the end of the hall, and the old shelves of the cafeteria pantry prove to be quite sparse, with nothing but some old bean cans that Abby takes anyway. She's still acting like you don't exist, so you've got a whole lot of time to examine your surroundings.

You hear a creak while searching through the cupboards and pause, listening for footsteps.

"Do you mind moving a little quicker? Maybe your old patrol did things slower, but I'd like to get back to base sometime soo-"

"Shut up!" You whisper harshly, cutting her off.

Abby looks offended, finally training her gaze on yours, but your eyes dart away to the doors of the cafeteria.

"What?"

Abby asks, watching you.

You hear it again, a second creak. You push Abby up against the wall by the lapels of her jacket, her blue eyes wide with surprise. Her gaze darts down to your lips for a second before her arms come up to pull yours off.

"Woah y/n- what are you-"

A loud bang interrupts Abby's next words, the double wooden doors of the cafeteria slamming open as five Seraphites rush in.

"Seraphites!" You yell, dragging Abby down with you to avoid the gunfire.

Abby breaks out of your hold, punching the nearest Seraphite in the face as you shoot the second. The third Seraphite comes running at you, tackling you to the ground, slamming your wrist against the concrete floor. A sharp pain runs through your arm, and you watch as he kicks your gun out of reach. You grapple on the floor together, kicking as he attempts to strangle you, worried about Abby- before a loud gunshot rings out and the Seraphite's body slumps over you.

Abby stands over you, one hand extended. You take it.

The other two Seraphites lay dead on the ground, bodies riddled with bullets. You brush yourself off, but the ache in your arm is making itself more evident.

"Thanks"

Abby hands you your gun but her brows furrow at the way you cradle your left arm gingerly.

"Are you okay?" She asks.

You feign nonchalance as best you can.

"Yeah.. but my arm might not be"

Abby hesitates for a moment, but reaches out and examines your arm. Her touch is soft, a strange contrast to the stoic way she's been acting this whole mission.

"I think medical should check you out" Abby says, clearing her throat. "Come on we should head back to the truck."

Abby steps back and pushes open the doors. You follow her out.

Medical let you go with a brace for the minor fraction on your left arm. You felt miserable, first mission back in the field and injured- you wouldn't be cleared to go on another for at least another few weeks.

You sat slumped against a bookshelf in the library, half hazardly reading "City of Thieves" by David Benioff, ignoring the dull ache in your arm. You'd been doing this for at least a week now, hiding out from prying eyes.

"Y/n?"

Your eyebrows raised at the sound of Abby's voice, and even further when she came over, standing awkwardly in front of you.

"How's your arm?"

Abby asked, shifting her weight from foot to foot.

"It's fine, I guess," You replied. "Just reading to pass the time. Medical ordered I "take it easy" for the next two weeks." You rolled your eyes at the last part. The corners of Abby's mouth twitched, as if she was holding back a smile, but you were sure it was a trick of the light.

"That sucks.. what are you reading?"

Much to your surprise, Abby sat down next to you, one muscular arm reaching over your lap to grab your book.

"Hey, City of the Thieves? I'm reading this one right now- no spoilers"

She held up a finger in warning, and you smiled at her attempt to joke.

"Yeah, yeah" You waved her away.

A beat of silence stretches between you, and you work up the courage to break it.

"So.. what did you come here for? We both know it wasn't just to talk about books"

"I.." Abby looked at the floor, picking at the fabric below. "I wanted to apologize for what I said a few months ago.. and how I've been treating you ever since. I'm sorry"

Abby stops to look up at you, and you take the opportunity to study her. Her cheekbones are a little sharper. There's a healing cut across her cheek that hadn't been there before. Her rosy cheeks, full lips, and clear blue eyes- they're the same.

She's still your Abby, somewhere.

But the hurt you felt then, the lack of company you've had, the loneliness you've felt? It's also there, somewhere.

"Why'd you do it then?"

You ask, and Abby's eyes drop back to the floor. She's silent for so long you're sure she's going to just leave, but she answers.

"I thought I'd feel better after I found the guy who killed my dad in Jackson... but, I don't."

You inhale at her admission, eyes searching for hers as she meets your gaze. The softness she finds in yours prompt her to press on,

"I feel like nothing makes me happy anymore, I still wake up every night from reoccuring nightmares about him- and I've pushed a lot of people away because of how angry I feel. Angry that he's left me, angry that killing the one guy I trained for 4 years to fight to avenge him didn't make me feel better, angry that I've fucked up in every relationship with anyone I care about because of it-"

Abby runs her hands through her hair, smoothing down the stray strands of hair in her braid.

"Y/n, I pushed you away because I care about you. I was being fucking stupid back then- and every time after. I wanted to be near you so much but I felt like I didn't deserve it. I'm not a good person. You deserve someone better than me"

Abby hung her head and stood up, ready to accept whatever you had to say.

"That's up to me to decide Abs."

You said softly, and Abby looked up in surprise. She felt both shock and happiness when you hugged her, and for a second she stood still. Was she allowed to have this? To have you, even for a moment?

Abby hesitated for a moment, before burying her face in your hair, pressing you closer to her.

She never wanted to lose you again.

The next few weeks passed by in a blur, your arm healing up just fine. You and Abby spent a lot of time together- eating together in mess hall, going for walks around the crop fields- she helped keep your mind off the itch you felt to get back out.

Lately though, Abby had been acting a little strange, spending more time in the gym, off walking Alice or talking to Manny more than she usually did. You assumed it was nothing though, after all, what else could it be?

"Did you hear? Issac's gonna do a large-scale attack on the Seraphites Island, Manny and Abby got instructed to lead the assault with their chosen squads."

You overhear Nora talking to Mel on your way to mess hall, and your eyebrows furrow. You remember Issac talking about invading the Seraphites back when, but Abby hasn't mentioned it to you at all. Before you have more time to think about it further, Abby arrives and hands you a still warm burrito.

"Hey y/n, brought you breakfast"

Abby smiles at you, and you smile back despite the worry at the back of your mind. She would tell you, wouldn't she?

"Wanna go for a walk?" Abby asks, but you shake your head. You're due for a visit to Medical- you hadn't been needing your arm brace and was sure that with a medical note Issac would dispatch you to assignments again.

The Medical Bay turned out to be quite empty, so you're out with the note clutched in your hand in no time.

You head up to Issac's, past the cells holding Seraphites, and knocked politely on the interrogation door. Issac emerged a dew seconds later.

"Y/n? Oh, a medical note"

While Issac read, you inquired about the rumor you'd heard at breakfast, trying your best to seem casual.

"Abby and Manny are leading the squads in the assault on Seraphites Island right? Would I be able to join them?"

Issac looked surprised,

"You'd have to ask them, they get first pick of who they'd like, then I'll form the rest of the squadrons. Why don't you talk to Abby? I'm surprised she didn't ask you already, I told her about it weeks ago."

Issac's words ring in your ears as you make your way down to Abby's room. You knock on her door for a second before you burst in.

Abby's shirt is off, her dark grey tank laid out on the bed. She's in the middle of drying her wet hair when she sees you come in. You can't help but stare- at her abs, at her white bra, at her unbuttoned dark green cargo pants- and ignore the flutter in your stomach.

You wrench your gaze away.

"Y/n?! What's wrong?"

Abby moves towards you, but you put a hand out. Her cheeks flush when she realizes what she's wearing, or the lack thereof, and bends down to grab her shirt.

"I got cleared from Medical! And uh.. Issac told me you and Manny are leading squads for the invasion against the Seraphites?"

You say, addressing the ceiling.

"Oh.." Abby says, trailing off. She slips on her tank top, stalling.

"I.. I only just found out," Abby lies, "I haven't decided who I want for the squadron yet-"

"You just found out?" You say, angry at her blatant lie. "Don't lie, I know Issac asked you weeks ago"

Abby's tone is defensive,

"Did you ask him behind my back?"

"When were you planning to tell me?" You shoot back, "Were you planning to tell me?"

Abby backtracks at your words, rambling. Her hands raise, like she's guilty of a crime.

"I was- I swear I was, I would have asked you to be on the squadron but your arm was still healing and-"

"Why didn't you just tell me? Forget picking me to be on your squadron, I don't care about that- were you just gonna leave and not tell me? Let me wonder if you fucking died or not?"

Abby's eyebrows raise in alarm, realizing her misstep at identifying what was making you so upset. She sits down, wiping her sweaty hands on her cargos.

"No- y/n, I promise I would have told you, I just didn't want to ruin the peace we were building- and honestly I'm sure I'll be fine, I've done tons of patrols-"

You shake your head-

"Be honest. This is just another way of pushing me away, isn't it? Have you been having nightmares again? Why can't you just be honest with me, what's going on?"

Abby's face breaks, the flicker of conflicting emotions clear to you for a moment. She warrs against touching you, but loses the internal battle. She pulls you closer to her position sitting on the edge of the bed, hands caressing the back of your thighs, unsure of if it's reassuring you or her.

"The nightmares... they never stopped." Abby takes a breath before continuing, "And.. Owen's missing, his patrol partner Danny was found dead," Abby explains, "I keep pushing you away because it hurts that I might lose you. What if Owen's dead? What if that was you next? I don't want to lose you."

Your eyes soften at her words,

"Abs, I'm sure Issac's got people out looking for Owen... and you won't lose me. I may not be as seasoned as you are, but I held my own just fine at the Seraphite outpost for months. Besides, if I go with you, you'll be there to watch my back."

You reach out and cradle her face, stepping a little closer, now stood directly between her legs.

Abby hugged you around the waist, hiding her face in your sweater, voice a little muffled.

"Issac said Owen is a traitor- that he killed Danny to protect.. a Seraphite. I told him it wasn't true, that there was no way he'd do that, that if I could just look for him I'd bring him back- but Issac refused. He wouldn't let me look for him."

Abby looks up at you, a mixture of grief and worry plain on her face. A stray tear rolls down her cheek and you brush it away.

"You're all I have left y/n." Abby whispers.

You crumble like putty in her hands, biting your plush lip as you look at her. Abby felt like she was going to explode.

This whole time, Abby's thought the way she felt about you was one-sided. Even when she was busy pretending to no longer care about you, even when she was staring straight head walking past you in the halls, even that damn school during your first mission together- a bit of her always longed for you.

She had tried to chalk it up to the fact she missed her best friend over the years, that she had a stupid girl crush in her teens, but these past few weeks only served to prove her wrong.

So, when you lean into her, Abby can't resist. She feels like she's lost everything- her dad, Owen- and you're all she has left. Can anyone blame her for acting on what she wants, just once?

Abby pulls you into her lap just as your lips crash into hers, both of you reaching for the other.

Butterflies flutter in your stomach as you kiss Abby, her large hands gently pressing you closer at the small of your back, and your hands tangle in her hair.

You can't get enough of her, hands pulling up her shirt, running your fingertips over her midriff as she shivers at your touch.

"Y/n? We don't have to do anything if you don't want to-"

You cut Abby off with a firm kiss as you push her over.

"Abs, I want to. I want you"

Abby grins at your words, and pulls you down into her for another kiss. Her hands guide your hips as you grind down on her, moaning into her mouth.

Abby thinks this is the closest she'll get to heaven, and flips you both over, her body pressed up against yours.

"I'm glad- I've wanted you for so long" Abby says, kissing down your neck, moving your shirt aside for easier access. You moan as she leaves hickies on your chest, her hands already undoing your pants, fingers dipping down into you.

"Oh baby, you're so wet for me"

Abby's voice is huskier than you've ever heard it, and you feel yourself get even wetter at her words. She rubs your clit with her thumb as she slips two fingers in, fucking you at a quick pace.

"Abs-" You choke out, hands reaching for her.

Abby smiles, love clear on her face.

"You sound so pretty y/n"

You pull at Abby's hair and she sucks at your nipples as she fucks you. You're sure there will be hickies all your neck come tomorrow.

"Fuck, Abs I'm gonna-"

"Come for me"

You come, shaking in her arms. Abby sucks her fingers clean, grinning at the brilliant shade of red you turn in response. You pull her in for another kiss before murmuring,

"Your turn"

Abby sheds her cargos, climbing back onto the bed. You slide your fingers through her wet folds, eliciting a sigh from her as you sink two fingers in, curling them to hit her gspot. You're maintaining a regular pace when Abby speaks up,

"That feels so good- but can you add another?"

You blink, but smirk as you obey her request. You speed up your pace, three fingers disappearing in her dripping cunt quickly, Abby's whimpers growing louder with every thrust.

"Fuck- y/n, I'm gonna come-"

Abby whimpers as she comes, growing tight around your fingers as she grips the headboard above your head.

You smile at her, sucking your fingers as payback for her earlier stunt, and she just laughs, rich and warm.

"I'm glad we both feel the same way about each other" Abby says, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

"I think we always have" You admit, hands cradling her face before drawing her in for another kiss. Abby's eyes are relaxed, her grin wide. You continue, smiling softly-

"You won't lose me, Abs. You never have, and you never will."

✦ ─────────────────────────── ✦

#abby anderson #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson smut #abby anderson tlou2 #tlou2 #abby anderson the last of us 2 #the last of us 2 #Abby Anderson switch!#abby x reader #canonAbby!#abby anderson fluff #abby anderson angst #the last of us #the fireflies

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ennabear · 18 days ago

Text

✴︎ —PAINT THE AGES A HUNDRED SHADES OF GOLD ⊹₊⟡⋆

I DON’T WANNA TALK ABOUT LOVE ANYMORE ‘CAUSE IT’S GETTING TOO MUCH FOR ME …

cw: councilor!sevika x painter!mel, sevika is a lil sad and mean but she gets over it, sevika is also kind of a loser who can’t stop talking when she gets drunk, jinx and isha mentions because i’m evil and we know this, mel paints sevika nude, body worship, lots of comfort, oral sex, 18+

word count: 7.3k

it’s been months since sevika’s big move, and she fucking hates it to say the least.

all of these pilties are stuck up, even more than she remembers. which is a lot. she’s exhausted, she questions why she’s even a part of the council if all they do is ignore her. showing up every day and listening to them talk about her home and her people the way they do makes her sick.

they draft plans to raid the markets, shutting down anyone who isn’t licensed to be selling meat or rice or bread, but they refuse to let anyone get a license to sell those things. of course, she’s glad that she gets to eat three meals a day now, but with every bite she takes, she’s reminded of her home, and how starving they must be over there.

no matter how much she fights back, offers up a real plan that could make peace between the rivaling nations, they all just snicker and point fingers at her like she’s some sort of circus act.

and don’t ask her about how much she likes being called councilor sevika, because she doesn’t like it at all. she’s not a councilor, and maybe that’s a good thing, because it’s the last thing she’d ever wanna be.

still, she keeps her emotions under control. this is a huge opportunity to help get zaun on it’s feet and cut ties with piltover officially, she won’t spoil it by making a scene and giving up. no matter what, she’s gonna make an effort, even if it means being locked in a room with a group of rich pigs who’ve never felt that growing pit of hunger in their stomachs that make them so dizzy that they keel over on the streets.

that they die on the streets.

so yeah, it’s not easy, not even a little bit.

most of her nights are spent alone in her room. it’s nice, “small” compared to the rooms everyone else occupies, but still bigger than any house she’s ever seen in the undercity. it has large windows that let every bit of light in, but it’s still eerily dark at night compared to zaun.

in zaun, there are neon lights and buzzing street lamps that glow and flicker at every hour, so when it gets dark, the colorful lights bounce off of every inch of the city. you can see them in the reflections of the puddles, bright streaks of light flying up into the night from behind buildings and stretching until they’re out of sight.

here, in piltover, they have different kinds of lights. tiny, white holes in the sky called stars that shine when it gets dark. they have spotlights and statues and lanterns, but it gets lonely at night. everyone is at home, distancing from their friends and their jobs, getting sleep and resting up for whatever the next day will bring.

there isn’t really any rest in zaun, just a small wink of sleep whenever you catch it, and you’re up again. everyone’s grouchy and hungry and cold, but it makes for good shimmer sales, and the bar is a great place to find refuge when you need a break from it all.

so sevika sleeps with all of her lights on. an attempt to remind her of home— although her home doesn’t have a queen sized bed, fluffy pillows and soft blankets, lamps, alarm clocks, fireplaces, clean water on their nightstands, and stars that shine through their windows.

the stars might be her favorite part about piltover. probably the only good thing about piltover. she doesn’t really know what they are or what they do, but they’re nice to look at late at night when she can’t manage to sleep.

every time she finds herself staring up at them, she sends a prayer or two up to janna. always one for the people, a prayer that even though they pretend to hate each other, and there sure are a few goons who are ready to slit her throat for never paying them back, she hopes they’re okay.

she hopes that ran and theiram have got the bar under control, that vi and ekko manage to keep the chaos limited, and most of all, that jinx and isha are doing alright.

ever since silco died, her whole world was flipped upside down and shaken vigorously. who knew that someday she’d be missing jinx? but she does. she cries at night for the blue haired girl, praying for her safety and her happiness, hoping that she’s managed to keep some of her creativity after everything that went down.

and of course for the more tolerable blue haired kid, isha.

she prays that isha is still attached at the hip to jinx, that her fluffy hair gets dyed that awful bright blue color as often as she wants it to, that she’s found some way to communicate with the world while her voice is at rest.

she’s got no clue as to where they could be. one second, she’s wishing jinx would leave her alone. that she’d pack up her inventions and make a home for them far away from sevika’s life. the next second, they’re gone. no warning, no heads up whatsoever, just completely taken from her life.

but if she wishes to find any wisp of happiness, she’s gonna have to push these thoughts to the back of her mind, only letting them front when she’s alone and awake and accompanied by the stars. they’re the only things who understand her.

——

if you listen closely, you might be able to hear the sound of mel’s thoughts buzzing around in her mind.

the past few months have given her some intense whiplash, but things are finally starting to straighten out. her life isn’t exactly normal, but she’s growing used to her… new self.

she spends most of her time perched at her easel, painting the canvas in beautiful colors that fall over various people or places. it’s therapeutic for her, whatever image or question or anger she has lingering in her head, she can work it out with the paints. when she’s done, she lines them up in front of her.

it helps her see things more clearly, like a thought that can’t float away, frozen in time for her to analyze further. some of them are just plain colors. gold, with white, yellow, and bronze streaks, an attempt to recreate the swirls that are painted on her own body.

sometimes she paints her mother, her eyebrows lowered in a scowl and her silvery gray hair crowning her head. jayce and viktor occasionally make an appearance, both of their faces lost in thought as they stare at various equations and formulas that she can’t quite make out.

sometimes she just sees miscellaneous things, quick visions that she needs to bring to life. countless canvases are covered in black, with that dark red fog reaching into it like vines. there’s also the hextech that makes the occasional appearance, but she can’t quite get that bright, rich blue color right.

a few times before, she’s attempted portraits, but she doesn’t prefer them. lest has been one of her closest friends during all of this, she can sit and pose for hours while mel works away at her figure on the canvas. they’ve also tried painting together, but mel prefers her alone time.

she’s tried recreating the pictures from her memory, but it never comes out as well. she covers the canvas in thick paint, a bronze, brown, and white, making up jayce’s features. but she always clouds his face with shiny white webs, and those glistening, rainbow stars. the ones that stole him away.

while she sits, her body stays stagnant, eyes racing around the blank canvas. she mixes the colors in her head before she even opens the tubes, her eyes proportion it all for her, so she rarely makes sketches anymore.

recently, she’s been more interested in staying in and shutting out the world. the occasional knock rings out against her door, but she can’t be bothered to investigate. she doesn’t wanna give her opinions anymore, doesn’t wanna lead all of topside to peace and gas the streets of the undercity. really, she never signed up for that. sure, she’s ambessa’s daughter, but she doesn’t care to be a leader anymore. not when all it does is get people hurt and killed.

but apparently it’s urgent this time, because the knocking persists.

“um, mel?” a timid voice asks. “i hate to bother you, but the council requires yo—”

she flings the door open, clad in her white robe and slippers. her hood hangs halfway over her head as she glares at the man, but he insists on escorting her to the council meeting. her feet gently pad against the floor as she walks through the long halls, already dreading having to play referee for a group of adults who should know better.

but ambessa is gone now, and these people need someone to give them any sort of direction.

the dome shaped room welcomes her, and although she dreads being there, the sun shining through the stained glass is gorgeous. she spies a few familiar faces sitting in their respective seats, and notices some new ones who were added after the war.

“but they need the money!” one councilor booms, one of the newer ones who mel doesn’t quite recognize yet. “you can’t just cut their funds and raise the tax prices, they—”

“councilor sevika, please.” someone says, talking over her voice. “what possibly could they need more money for? our city needs to be rebuilt, and it’s them who’s caused all of this destruction.”

mel observes quietly, noticing the tears that fill sevika’s eyes. she makes an assumption that they’re either out of sadness, anger, or exhaustion, but she can’t quite tell. one thing she does know, though, is that it isn’t fair.

it’s not fair to just drag a zaunite up to topside and force her to be the only one representing her nation. especially when she has to be locked in a room full of people who hate her, who think she’s nothing more than just undercity trash to mock and make fun of.

mel’s surprised that sevika has held her ground for this long. if that were her, she’d want to pack up and leave within a day, especially when she notices the snorts and sideways glances that she gets every time she opens her mouth.

“have you even been down there?” sevika asks. “have you seen the bodies lying on the streets? have you heard the sobs of the starving children?”

they all look at her, unable to imagine what hunger even is, much less an entire nation overcome by it. shoola offers a sympathetic frown, but it’s not enough for sevika. she’s exhausted, and the thought of seeing her home even more impoverished is killing her. worst of all, word on the street is that zaunites are beginning to call her a traitor.

she wishes that they could see how hard she’s working, how much she’s fighting for them behind the scenes. but she can’t exactly blame them, it must be hard to watch every leader they’ve ever had either fail at leading them to sovereignty or turn their backs on the people. must be worse to watch someone who they thought was on their side disappear into the council and watch as things just keep getting worse and worse down there.

and this makes sevika feel horrible.

it’s hard for her not to blame herself for this, especially because that’s what she’s used to. her job for years was to be silco’s right hand, so it was constantly her fault if something went wrong. that’s just how things are. if things don’t go her way, it must be her fault for not working harder to overcome it.

“i agree.” mel says plainly. “councilor sevika has firsthand knowledge of what it’s like for them, why shouldn’t we trust her?”

sevika is taken aback at this. she’s never seen someone so… rich looking… be this understanding toward her. but although it’s the bare minimum, she appreciates it. she’ll take whatever form of kindness she can get right now.

the other councilors stare at mel like she’s just grown three heads. obviously, they’ve never been told no a day in their life. sevika is glad that she gets to be present for the first time. some of them sputter and growl, some of them roll their eyes, but sevika just sinks back into her chair and decides to let them argue it out.

“i agree too.” councilor shoola says. “it’s only fair… unless, any of you would like to go down there and experience it for yourselves? then you could tell us all about their excess of funds.”

sevika sighs in relief, thanking janna or the universe or whatever god decided to help her out. she can’t exactly smile, at least not yet, but she manages a tiny grin, and decides that maybe she shouldn’t feel too bad about herself just yet.

mel is glad that sevika and shoola have at least a little bit of brains, but she’s starting to rethink having all of the others on the council. maybe they need to fire some, or at least add some more zaunites to level the playing field. although, she now knows that sevika can put up one hell of a fight, so maybe she doesn’t need it.

but the clock strikes two in the afternoon, and the councilors file out to get on with their day until they meet again tomorrow. sevika hangs back, waiting for everyone to leave before she returns to her office. but mel hangs back too, determined to talk to sevika more, to get to know her.

sevika pulls her cape over her shoulders, completely covering her figure before she exits the room. mel perks up and shoots her a questioning look.

“yes?” sevika asks.

“you’re brave.” mel says.

“no i’m not. d’you think it’s brave of me to leave my people starving and helpless down there while i have a real home and three meals a day?”

mel just stares blankly at her. that isn’t what she meant at all, but at the same time, she’s completely right. as much as she still believes that sevika is brave for putting up with the councilors, she should be calling everyone else brave, everyone in zaun who goes days without food. sevika is the luckiest of them all.

“that’s not what i meant.” mel explains. “i meant that you’re better than them because you stand your ground instead of just getting everything you want. you work hard for what you earn.”

sevika shrugs. “i guess you could say that.”

“do you miss it down there?”

“what do you think?” sevika grunts.

“i’d bet that you do, you just try not to show it in front of anyone.”

“yes, because showing weakness gets you killed.”

“not up here, it doesn’t. you should open up a little, it might be good for you.” mel suggests.

“i’ll pass.”

“i could help you.”

“i don’t need—”

“let me help you.” mel says, reaching out to grab sevika’s hand.

“help me how?” sevika asks.

“open up to me. tell me about your life. friends, family, past, anything.”

“okay… maybe.”

“okay, good.”

——

sevika has never been great at opening up to anyone, but mel is… understanding. as much as she hates to talk about her struggles to other people, mel is probably the best possible person to talk to. mel marched herself down sevika’s hall to her door, banging on it until sevika sleepily presented herself. she marched sevika down the hall and through the building until they reached her own suite, and she fed sevika more and more wine until she started to talk to her.

it started with just a confession. sevika was wine drunk and admitted that yes, she did miss her home, and that she hated topside. and then mel pressed for more, made her tell her specifically who she missed and what she missed about them.

the list of people who she missed was never ending. at the top— jinx and isha. in all honesty, mel is shocked to learn that sevika had anyone that she really considered family, much less a daughter or a niece. but sevika tells her all about them, how isha would beg to paint her nails or dye her hair, and how jinx finally had a sister who she could play with, instead of just being too young to do anything.

but when mel asks where they’ve gone, sevika freezes. she doesn’t know, and it’s not something she prefers to think about. dead is something she’d heavily considered, but that ending makes her too sad. as long as she doesn’t know that they’re dead, they’re not. at least not in her world.

she tells mel that she hopes they’re somewhere safe, somewhere that they can have fun together. like floating on a cloud, or living in outer space with the stars. maybe they are with the stars, and that’s why she loves them so much.

“you like the stars?” mel asks.

“that’s the only thing actually worth liking about this place, i think…” sevika slurs drunkenly.

“hmm, i guess they are pretty, aren’t they.” mel ponders.

“yeah and there are so many of them, and it’s like every time you see them you’re seeing a completely different sky. and they’re cool because they only come out at night when they think nobody can see them, it’s like they’re shy. but i always see them because i’m always awake with them.” she rambles.

mel can’t help but giggle. again, everything she said is exactly right, but she’s never seen it that way. sevika offers her a fresh new perspective, one that makes her ponder how much she knows about the world.

“sorry…” sevika whispers, suddenly aware that she’s drunkenly blabbering and probably making a fool of herself. she tries to blink herself sober but it doesn’t work.

“no worries. i like them too.” mel soothes.

“i think i should go.”

“already?” mel asks.

“it’s gett’n late. i have places to be tomorrow…” sevika sighs. mel stands and walks her to the door, grabbing on gently to her human arm in an attempt to stabilize the woman. she offers a sweet smile to sevika as she leaves, even takes her hand in her own for a second and squeezes it tightly, but sevika just stares at the floor.

“mel?” she asks finally, although in a timid voice.

“yes?”

“thanks for sticking up for me. i don’t know what those pigs would get up to without people like me and you.”

mel’s heart warms at this. sevika is so drunk that she’s starting to get sappy and sweet, and while it’s adorable, it’s clear that she needs to get home. but she’s glad that her effort isn’t going unnoticed, and she’s starting to really like sevika.

“of course.” she smiles again. “get some sleep for me, okay? don’t spend too much time with the stars.”

sevika curses herself for the warm feeling that wraps herself all around her, she hates that she’s being vulnerable and making friends. she just blames the feeling on the alcohol, but she knows that it’s not. because that light, warm feeling clings itself to her every time she sees mel.

it happens again when they coincidentally cross paths, mel on her way outside for some fresh air and sevika on her way to her room to sign papers until her fingers bleed. but she realizes for the first time that mel is so beautiful. she hasn’t spotted sevika yet, but the sunlight glowing in from the windows catches her golden streaked skin perfectly, and she’s shining. it’s like she’s a real life star, and sevika can’t peel her eyes away.

“oh, hi sevika.” mel grins.

“um… hi.” she responds, her heart suddenly beating faster than usual. “where are you going?”

“just outside. been cramped up inside all day and the smell of my paints are starting to give me a headache.”

“you paint?” sevika asks, although to anyone else the answer would be obvious.

“yeah, all the time. i’d love to show you someday.” she offers, already knowing that she’s gonna have to drag sevika by the arm and force her to visit.

“okay… yeah, that would be nice.” she says.

“what are you doing right now?” mel asks.

“i just have a lot of paperwork to fill out, letters to write, things to sign, you know how it is.”

“will you stop by later, then?”

“are you gonna make me?”

“probably. if you don’t show up by yourself.”

“alright, see you later then.”

——

sevika is dreading this outing. the more times she thinks about going back over to mel’s, the more anxious she gets. every time she’s been over there the past month, she’s ended up either drunk or blabbering on about stuff that doesn’t matter. or worse— drunk and blabbering. she always finds some way to make a fool of herself, and she doesn’t know how to stop. she just wishes it wasn’t so easy to open up to her, wishes that mel wasn’t so damn likable.

mel already knows she’s gonna have to drag sevika over to come look at her paintings. she always does. no matter how many times she tells the woman to come on her own terms, she finds herself stomping down to sevika’s door and forcing her to hang out. it’s cute, in mel’s mind, it’s like a date. so that’s what she finds herself doing tonight. cleaning up her suite a little, spinning one of her jazz records, and marching down to collect sevika.

she’s arranged her paintings in no particular order, but the array is beautiful. some are framed, some are smaller than others, some of them aren’t even finished. sevika feels so moved by this. she’s never seen anything so beautiful. not anything in real life, not mel herself, not even the stars are as beautiful as her paintings.

mel sits her down on the loveseat, pouring two glasses of wine and sitting down next to sevika, but sevika begs her to talk about her paintings. she’s dying to know how anyone could make anything look more beautiful than the stars. mel blushes at that compliment— it’s a lot coming from sevika for multiple reasons— but she decides that now it’s her turn to open up.

they sit an chat for hours, and before long, sevika feels as if she knows mel like the back of her hand. she now knows about jayce and viktor and what happened to them, about ambessa, her mother, the noxians, and the rest of her family. sevika’s oddly surprised. of course, she’s aware that mel is probably the strongest woman she knows, but she never would’ve guessed that she’s been through that much.

mel cries a bit, and sevika cries too, and they laugh about their emotions like old friends. for once in her life, sevika feels like maybe not everything sucks, and that maybe it’s okay to let herself fall for someone. she just hopes that mel feels the same way.

“sevika?” mel asks, still catching her breath after a fit of giggles.

“yeah?” she smiles.

“will you dance with me?”

“i don’t dance.” sevika says, laughing at the image of her dancing with someone. how silly.

“aww, come on! it’s just us and some jazz! you’ll be fine.” she reasons. “please?”

sevika rolls her eyes at mel’s outstretched hand, but she’s very tipsy and in a good mood, so how could she say no to the beautiful woman standing in front of her?

mel yanks her up by her arm, and sevika wastes no time following after her to the middle of the room where the big sky lights let the stars shine in. sevika scowls and tenses up a bit, but mel wraps her arms around sevika’s waist so gently, guiding sevika’s arm to press against her back. mel sways them back and forth a bit, and sevika soon loosens up and stares down at mel with a smile that puts all of the stars to shame.

“do you ever miss your arm?” mel asks.

“yeah, sometimes. i miss the one jinx made for me, i wish i didn’t take it for granted.” she responds, her mood quickly turning sad against her will.

“i could have one made for you.” mel offers.

sevika shakes her head and flattens her lips into a straight line. “they won’t let me have one on the council.”

it’s mel’s turn to roll her eyes now. “no, i’ll make you one that they’ll accept. they always listen to me, you know.” she grins.

“i guess that would be alright, as long as it’s not much of a hassle.”

“for you? nothing’s a hassle. don’t be silly.”

sevika’s eyebrows pull together in the middle and she pouts, tears quickly filling her eyes. nobody’s ever been this nice to her before. offering her a new limb, protection from the ruthless comments from the council, good wine, and a dance underneath the stars. she can’t help but cry, but she’s not afraid to anymore. with mel, she feels safe enough to be this vulnerable.

mel notices her sad expression, and she silently prays that she didn’t accidentally offend sevika, it’s the last thing she’d ever wanna do. “oh, what’s wrong? did i—”

sevika cuts her off with a kiss. she doesn’t wanna hear any apologies from mel, not after she’s been a literal angel to sevika this past week. mel’s lips are warm and welcoming, they taste sweet, like if gold was a flavor. she reaches her hands up and cradles the back of mel’s head, deepening the kiss.

mel is completely taken aback by this. she didn’t know that sevika had feelings for her. actually, she thought that sevika was sick of her. but she kisses sevika back, her lips are big and pouty and oh so soft. she also gets to feel sevika’s piercing up close, and the cold metal drags against the bottom of her lips ever so slightly. it’s a stark contrast, but a comforting one at that.

one thing leads to another, and they’re quickly back on the loveseat, lapping at each others tongues and giggling like kids and holding hands. sevika’s had tons of sex before, sure, but nothing comes close to this. she feels so special, so cared for, that she notices this strange, giddy feeling bubbling up in her chest.

little does she know, that feeling is called love.

she pins mel down to the seat, both of them breathless and high on this mysterious feeling— although it definitely has something to do with the liquor— and sevika almost cries again when mel spreads her legs beneath her white gown. the warm lamplight mixed with the starlight causes her to glow again, like she’s on fire, so sevika can’t help but kiss all over the gold patterns that paint her skin.

mel erupts into another fit of giggles, holding sevika’s shocked face in her hands. sevika tenses up slightly at her touch, but takes a deep breath and swallows all of her anxiety.

“can i?” sevika asks.

mel smiles and nods. “of course. you can do whatever you want to me.”

sevika shudders and reaches up mel’s dress, caressing her stomach and hips. mel is soft and malleable under her touch, and she’s golden. she reaches forward to tug her dress above her hips. sevika doesn’t think she’s ever seen such a beautiful sight, and mel absolutely adores sevika’s awestruck face.

the same golden markings that paint her face also trail down her abdomen, all the way to her ankles. there are thick streaks of gold that mirror each other on each side of her torso, twisting themselves into swirls and shapes. she also has small golden freckles littering her body, identical to the ones on her face. they look like stars.

best of all, as if sevika wasn’t already turned on enough, she has small, golden hairs that trail down from just beneath her belly button, only stopping when they crown her dripping hole. this woman is made of pure magic, and if sevika doesn’t get her mouth on her within the next millisecond, she thinks she might faint.

mel grabs sevika’s hand when she notices her hesitation, and this makes her snap back into the moment and start eating mel out. she starts slow, just some teasing, soft licks to her clit that make her shiver. mel moans so sweetly and beautifully and sevika feels like she’s floating.

sevika grips mel’s hand harder and harder as she keeps eating her out, and it’s times like these that she wishes she has two hands. one to hold mel’s with, and one to feel inside of her, pumping her full of her thick fingers. mel arches her back and thrusts up into sevika’s face, and they both nearly cum on the spot.

she pulls back for a second, a string of white slick connecting itself to sevika’s lips before dripping down her chin.

“sev, you’re doing so good, baby.” mel praises. “don’t stop, i’m so close.”

sevika speeds up her movements, determined to make mel cum. her big, silver eyes squeeze shut as her mouth works it’s magic, sucking on her clit and running her pointed tongue between mel’s folds to collect her slick.

but she doesn’t cum until sevika wraps her lips around her clit again, her piercing colliding with mel’s throbbing clit as she tips over the edge. a low whine is pulled from her throat, and sevika pulls back to admire the woman above her. mel yanks sevika up by her shirt, thanking her with a deep kiss. some of sevika’s lipstick is smudged, so mel wipes it off with her thumbs, as well as the wet slick that’s smeared all over her face.

sevika is suddenly very aware that she doesn’t need shimmer anymore, because she feels like mel’s sweet nectar is enough to get her high.

“i’m gonna need that new arm as soon as you can get it.” sevika says with her lips smashed against mel’s. “need to show you what else i can do.”

——

it’s been three weeks since then, and sevika’s been coming over every night. she still has lots of work to do, but mel helps her with all of it. they sort through tall stacks of paperwork, taking turns sitting on the others lap and pouring each other more wine. sometimes they get distracted with sex, but they try their hardest to stay focused. occasionally mel will bring out her paints and work on something new, forcing sevika to stay focused while she’s at work.

they also spend their mornings together. if they don’t wake up in the other’s arms, they’ll sleepily march down to their door and bang on it until they reunite and hold each other again.

but this morning, sevika wakes up in mel’s bed alone. she reaches out for the woman with her arm, but that side of the bed is just cold and empty. sitting up, she glances around the room until she spies mel in her silky white cloak painting on the balcony.

“mel?” she asks groggily. “why’re you up so early?”

“just had to finish something, love.” she responds, smiling at her girlfriend’s half awake state. “you can go back to sleep if you’d like.”

“can i at least see what you’re working on?”

“not yet.” she smiles. “it’s a surprise.”

sevika groans and turns around to go back inside, but mel catches her arm and yanks her back for a kiss. sevika kisses over each of mel’s golden freckles, and then her lips, then her nose, her forehead, chin, and then lips again, before returning inside. mel giggles and tries to swat sevika’s back before she gets away, but she’s too slow and the effort is wasted.

back inside, sevika grabs onto mel’s pillow and stuffs her face into it, bringing a familiar comfort that lulls her back to sleep. she’s shaken awake a few hours later, though. it’s mel, very gently rattling sevika’s shoulder while caressing her hair. “sevika, babe, wake up.” she whispers.

“mmmmh?”

“i have a present for you.”

“hmmmm?”

“wake up so you can open it.”

“ughhhhh.”

“oh, please. don’t be so pouty. i want you to see it! quickly, quickly!” she urges, yanking sevika back to the balcony. the sun is slightly higher in the sky now, some of the orange in the sky is still fading away but the sky is painted in a light yellow color, it matches mel a little bit.

she hands her a giant white box with mel’s name on it, a small golden bow sitting directly on the top. “what is this?” sevika asks.

“open it and see!” mel smiles.

so she does. she flips the lock on the box and pulls it open, a smooth, golden arm staring back at her.

“what is this?” sevika asks again, this time in disbelief. she couldn’t tell how serious mel was about acquiring a new arm for her, so she didn’t think she’d be receiving a new one this quickly, or one this pretty.

it’s a lot more modern compared to her other two arms that she’s had in the past. it has a matte gold casing all around it, with shimmery gold patterns that resemble mel’s carved into it. it has all five fingers, but they’re not as pointy, more resembling her human fingers than her past arms. sevika is overcome with emotions, and she turns around to pull mel in for a hug, hiding her tears on her shoulder.

“do you like it?” mel asks.

“i love it.”

“will you teach me how to put it on you?”

“of course.” sevika promises, and with that, mel tugs her inside and makes her sit and show her. it takes a bit of fumbling. sevika isn’t great at explaining things, but she also can’t do much with only one arm, so lots of trial and error occurs during the process. but eventually it’s all screwed in, and the first thing sevika does is pull mel in for a real hug.

mel never really realized how strong sevika is, and how crushing her hugs are. at least, not until now. she knows that sevika can hold her somewhat tightly, but one arm doesn’t do much. now that she as two arms though, mel is struggling to breathe with the way sevika is crushing her. or maybe it’s just because sevika wants to show her girlfriend some love. and she’s definitely not crying.

“i have one more thing.” mel says, although most of it gets muffled by sevika’s chest.

“what is it?” she asks.

“come outside and look.”

sevika follows her outside, grabbing onto mel’s elbow with her new hand.

“close your eyes.” mel says, so sevika squeezes her eyes shut and tries her hardest not to peek. mel dashes over to retrieve the painting on her canvas that’s now fully dry, and then she holds it to face sevika.

“okay, now open them.”

she opens her eyes to see mel holding one of her new paintings— the one she wasn’t allowed to see yet. but now she’s aware of why she wasn’t allowed to see it, because the painting is of her.

it’s sevika. hunched over at mel’s desk with her reading glasses on and a pen in her hand, a glass of wine half empty on the table next to her. the colors in the painting are very warm, likely resembling the warm lamps that decorate mel’s suite. and the most surprising thing— there’s a smile on sevika’s face.

it’s not something she’s ever seen on herself before. for one, she’s never been one to smile in general, it’s just not something she was ever used to doing. photographs are also very rare in zaun, so the only way she could’ve seen it on herself is by smiling in front of a mirror, which is even more rare.

sevika doesn’t even know how to feel. she should cry, because nobody has ever been this kind to her before, and she’s overwhelmed with emotions from the arm, the painting, and just being around mel.

she should also be happy. nobody has ever understood her as much as mel does, and she feels so honored to be seen in her artistic lense. she should be glad that she gets to live up here, where everything is safe and pretty and valuable. she’s also still half asleep, and can’t exactly tell if she’s dreaming or not.

“what do you think?” mel asks after a while.

“i don’t know what i did to deserve this.” sevika says honestly. “is there some kind of special occasion that i don’t know about? or are you just spoiling me.”

“well, mostly the latter,” mel laughs. “but it is our one month anniversary, if that counts for anything.”

“i didn’t get you anything.” sevika frowns, suddenly feeling way out of mel’s league, almost insecure.

“that’s alright.” mel smiles. “your presence is enough.”

sevika rolls her eyes and manages a smile too, yanking mel forward and giving her a sweet kiss. one month isn’t much, but it’s been the happiest month of sevika’s life, and things are starting to look up for her. for zaun, too.

“well,” mel starts, pulling away from sevika’s lips. “there is one small thing you could do for me.”

“and that is…?”

“model for me so i can paint you?” she asks with a happy shrug of her shoulders.

“now? but you just painted me.”

“yes, i’m aware.” she laughs. “but i haven’t painted your new arm yet, and that was from a few days ago but you just look so adorable today. please?”

sevika smiles too. how could she say no to mel when she asks so nicely? “alright, fine.” she agrees.

“good, and take all of your clothes off, too.”

sevika freezes. although mel has seen her naked hundreds of times, she suddenly feels shy.

“don’t worry, it’s just for us.” mel soothes. “lay on the bed and i’ll position you.”

so sevika is left no choice but to follow the orders she was given. she strips herself of her clothes— which is much easier now that she has two arms— and lays down on the bed, looking up at mel with her big, watery eyes. mel walks over and pushes her backward until she’s propped up with just one elbow.

“is this comfortable?” mel asks.

“uh… y-yeah.” sevika responds.

mel pries sevika’s legs open, positioning them apart so that she has a full view of sevika’s dripping cunt from her easel. sevika whimpers, her eyes widening and sparkling as she looks up at mel.

“don’t be shy.” mel teases. “it’s just me.”

“i know, sorry…” sevika says with a sigh, making a mental note to loosen up.

“are you ready for me to start? we’re probably gonna be here all day.”

“yeah. ready.” sevika responds.

“okay, let me know if you need a break.”

mel isn’t too fond of painting from models, but she can feel her opinion changing as she sculpts sevika with the paint. her legs are easy. long and thick, and she gets to mimic the way they’re pressed open.

her torso is next, which is one of her favorite things about sevika. her abs are hard and sturdy, but they get slightly softened out by the rolls of her stomach. then mel moves up to her tits, painting two perfectly pointed brown circles accented with thick, dark nipples.

her neck comes after, and then her arms, and finally her face. mel has memorized every little expression sevika has, so she has a lot to choose from, but she chooses the one that sevika is wearing right now. a goofy, lovestruck smile, adorned with a slight blush sparkling on her cheeks.

her eyes are also fun, they’re so big and sparkly and metallic, mel can’t help but paint stars in them. and of course, her nose, her tooth gap, her piercing, and her hair. they all come together to make up the most perfect face that mel has ever seen.

she moves on to the arms next, painting one with her thick muscles and her warm brown skin, and the other with a shiny gold. her shoulders are slightly slanted, and they have bite marks and hickeys carved into them, which makes mel immensely proud of herself.

and finally, sevika’s glistening cunt. she paints each fold tenderly, a small circle at the top covered slightly by a thin, fleshy hood. she paints the slick in between her thighs that just keeps collecting with her finest white and silver paints.

and of course, her bush, because she wouldn’t dare to forget it. she curls each stroke of her brush until it perfectly mirrors sevika’s thick, dark curls, and then she trails them all the way up her lower stomach.

she finishes the background next, but it’s not much. she doesn’t want anything to take away from sevika’s beauty. but she makes sure to add a few stars surrounding her of various sizes and shades of gold.

sevika has been surprisingly patient throughout the whole thing, mel predicted that she’d be begging for snacks only ten minutes in. but mel finishes quickly and she’s beaming with excitement as soon as she’s done.

“do you wanna see it?” she asks.

“you’re done already?” sevika replies.

“yeah. you’re an easy model.”

“okay, yeah, let me see.” sevika smiles.

mel lifts up the canvas and presents it to sevika, and it’s somehow even more beautiful than the other painting. mel captures her so beautifully, sevika is so honored to be viewed that way. for the first time in her life, she truly feels beautiful. and mel can tell that she feels that way too, through the tears that threaten to spill in her eyes.

and just as sevika is about to tackle mel to the bed too, she notices something in the bottom corner. in a shimmery gold writing, the words “my star. -mel m.” are painted. sevika looks up at mel with a questioning glance and asks, “what’s that?”

“it’s my signature. the title of the painting and my name.”

“‘my star’?” sevika reads off.

“yeah, because that’s what you are. you’re my star, sevika. you’re so beautiful and bright.”

and those words echo in sevika’s mind for the rest of time, especially when sevika pins mel down and rides her face into the pillow a few seconds later. she’s right. she is mel’s star, isn’t she.

#inspired by golden age by ethel cain because i can’t write a fic if it’s not based off of one of her songs 😭#ANYWAYS MELVIKA IS HEREEEEE #sevika #sevika arcane #arcane sevika #mel medarda #mel medarda arcane #mel arcane #melvika #sevika x mel #sevika x mel medarda #arcane #arcane netflix #arcane league of legends

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thewistlingbadger · 2 months ago

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I really like Mel and Jayce's relationship because I think they're a great source of comfort for each other, but they're not endgame for me. They can't be due to the foundation of the relationship. I don't think Mel Merdarda loves Jayce Talis fully and unconditionally and that's completely acceptable. She doesn't have to. Jayce Talis is not there to be her husband. He's there to be her pawn. It just so happens that he was a pawn that she got too close to emotionally, a pawn she just so happened to have some level of care for. So yes, I like them, they're cute, but they're not everything. JayVik is everything. JayVik is coming home to your bed after a long trip that was pleasant but filled with hotel mattresses. JayVik is realizing that you had what you wanted the entire time. JayVik is being too late to save the day but still charging in like a hero.

#i love jayvik #arcane #mel Merdarda #meljay #arcane Viktor #viktor arcane #jayce Talis #jayvik

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megalony · 3 months ago

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Is He Sleeping?

This is a new Tommy Kinard imagine, based on the same idea as my other Tommy imagine Sleep No More. I hope you will all like it, please let me know what you think.

Taglist: @justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @luula @missdreamofendless @bradleybeachbabe @woderfulkawaii @amberpanda99 @daggersquadphantom @marvel-and-chicago-fan @angryknightstatesmantrash @minjix @lyje @kmc1989 @itsmytimetoodream @noonenuts @hiireadstuff @ashie-babie @classyunknownlover @jayyeahthatsme @sp1ritssz @dumb-fawkin-bitch @oliverstarksbae @gimatida @heart-35 @supernaturalstilinski @kyky9103 @wutheringhearts2275 @gay4hotmilfs @itshamleth @chaoticnosleepinfluencer @gs29 @wh0reforsmutstuff @mel-vaz @natashamea18 @chrisevansdaughter @alexandra848484 @deena-beena-weena @targaryenluvs @kpoplover-19 @marvelmenarebeautiful @gillybear17

@zoeybennett @mrspeacem1nusone @zephyrmonkey @estella-novella @eleventhdoctorsangel @kniselle @senjoritanana @shauna-carsley @dottierose @cfdhouse51 @darkfemme1 @rainechase45 @lolalolsstuff @jupiter1700 @ashdoctor @an-aliens-ghost @lunaroserites @houseoftwistedspirits @callsignwidow @winterreader-nowwriter @reneinii @bellsbomb @western-pyro @itsgigikay @harry-satellite @midsummereve1993 @babyqueen17 @buckyyyismahhlife @sammiejane22 @mrsyixingunicorn10

Tommy Kinard Masterlist

Sleep No More

Summary: Things are going great for (Y/n) and Tommy, until Tommy starts dealing with insomnia. And (Y/n) doesn't know what to do when he starts to sleepwalk too.

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A sigh tumbled past (Y/n)'s lips as she shuffled the covers, kicking them down towards the end of the bed. Her knees curled up and she shuffled towards the other side of the bed, but a discontent sound left her lips when she stretched her arm out in front of her.

She groggily opened her eyes, squinting through the darkness to look at the bed. It took a moment or two for her eyes to adjust to the darkness but she felt a shiver crawl down to her toes when she noticed the other side of the bed was empty.

Why was she alone in bed?

She tried to squint at Tommy's bedside table, barely working out that it said 2:10am. Tommy's alarm wouldn't go off until half past six. What was he doing out of bed already? He barely got up during the night at all, (Y/n) could count the times on one hand when he got up for the toilet during the night because it was something he rarely did.

Her fingers brushed over the bedsheet, smoothing out the creases and wrinkled while she waited. She didn't like going to sleep alone, it was one of the reasons she hated when Tommy had to work nights. She wouldn't be able to get back to sleep until Tommy was beside her again.

When a minute ticked by and turned into two, (Y/n) huffed and pressed her hand down so she could push herself up. Her head spun and white spots danced through the darkness as her body swayed from left to right until she gained her balance back. One hand stayed on the mattress to push herself up and the other pressed against her lower back where the baby was weighing heavy on her spine.

Her feet shuffled against the carpet as she slowly padded out of the bedroom and into the dark hallway she could barely see.

"Babe, everything okay?" Her voice was gruff and quiet, laced with sleep as she peeked over the bannister. No lights were on downstairs and she knew Tommy; he wouldn't be sat watching tv or making a drink or having a midnight snack at two in the morning. Especially not in the dark.

But she couldn't help the gnawing feeling of unease that clawed at the back of her throat and sent her stomach pooling with adrenaline.

Was Tommy having trouble sleeping again?

He had been having a bit of trouble lately when it came to sleeping. No matter what he tried, Tommy couldn't get a full nights sleep. He got a few broken hours here and there, but even after a twenty four hour shift he still couldn't sleep through the night. Working nights only made it worse. Night shifts meant short bursts of sleep, a ten minute power nap in the bunker room if necessary. And when Tommy was struggling to sleep during the night, sleeping during the day was impossible.

It was a good job Tommy didn't do many nights, he was one of the better pilots so he was reserved for day shifts when they had the most accidents needing air support.

Some nights (Y/n) had woken up to find Tommy reading early into the morning. He was an avid reader but this last month (Y/n) had found him going through a book almost every night. She had given him the books she had been saving for his birthday to give him something to do and try to make him feel a little better. He didn't feel as bad losing sleep if he was engrossing himself in a novel.

(Y/n) nudged the door to the nursery which had previously been the spare room, but the lights were out and the room was basked in darkness, save from a slither of white creeping in from the street light outside.

She pulled the door shut again but suddenly froze in her tracks when her ears zoned in on a certain noise she hadn't noticed a few seconds ago.

Running water. The shower.

Why on Earth was Tommy getting a shower at two in the morning? That was only a normality if he had been on a night shift and didn't get chance to wash at the station before he came home. And Tommy hadn't been on shift today or tonight. He had been in the shower earlier this evening before they watched a movie; he didn't have a reason to be getting another one right now.

What was he doing? Had he had some kind of accident or spilled something? Was he that irritated by insomnia that he decided getting a shower was the only thing he could do? Was he that fed up that he needed to start his morning routine right now?

"Babe?" Her voice was still groggy with sleep and came out a bit too quiet as she headed to the bathroom.

Panic flooded her chest and a shiver tore down from the base of her neck right down to the tip of her toes when she opened the door. She could feel a bolt of adrenaline coursing through her stomach, livening up the baby.

The light wasn't on.

The bathroom was shrouded in darkness, illuminated only by a faint light seeping through the frosted glass window, presumably from a neighbour's house or porch light. Why was Tommy getting a shower in the dark? He'd never done that before, not even when he had a horrid migraine.

"Baby, what're you doing?" Unease flooded her voice as she quickly fumbled for the cord and switched the light on.

The pastel cream light blinded her and had her squinting and groaning, taking at least five seconds to get her eyes adjusted to the light so she could actually see what on Earth her husband was doing. Confusion, terror and the baby wriggling were the only things (Y/n) could feel when she looked towards the bath.

Tommy was stood in the bath, the left side of his body slumped against the wall and he had one hand cupping the back of his neck. That wouldn't have been such a worrying sight for (Y/n), if it wasn't for the fact that he was still in his clothes.

He had his boxers and his thin black pyjama shorts on. They were sodden through and clinging to his body like a second skin and it looked terribly uncomfortable, like being out in a torrential downpour and coming home sticky and wrinkled and itchy. And when (Y/n) looked down, she realised Tommy was still wearing his socks too. He had never done this before. He had never gotten a shower in the middle of the night, much less while he was still dressed.

(Y/n)'s hand absentmindedly moved to cradle her stomach that was churning along with the baby waking up and wriggling around with panic. She managed to find the will to move and she stumbled forward towards the bath, hands outstretched towards Tommy.

Was he having some kind of emotional turmoil or a panic attack? Had he suffered a nightmare? It had been a few months since Tommy suffered a nightmare either to do with his time in the army or from some of the horrors he'd seen on the job. And usually if he had a nightmare, he would seek comfort in (Y/n), not do something like this.

"Baby?"

When she looked up at him, (Y/n) almost didn't recognise him.

The vacant look in his very constricted eyes was bewildering. His lips were parted just a little, enough to let shallow breaths slide silently into the air, but he wasn't moving or reacting to her at all.

"Baby? Baby, are you okay?" Her hands clamped down on his bulging biceps as she leaned over the tub to try and get within Tommy's eyeline. But her body jolted and a hiss passed her lips when she felt the water beat down on her skin.

The shower was cold.

How long had he been stood here like that? He was going to make himself sick taking a cold shower like this.

(Y/n) kept her nails pierced into Tommy's right arm while she twisted and leaned forward to turn off the shower before Tommy went hypothermic.

Water trickled down her shoulder and arm and she could feel droplets tickling her cheek before she turned to stare up at her husband. He was drenched from head to toe and he was cold, almost as cold as a block of ice.

(Y/n)'s fingertips trembled as she trailed them over his drenched, frozen skin until she had her hands on his neck and her thumbs stroking the razor sharp edge of his jaw. She gave a little shake and tried to tilt his head down in her direction, trying to give some sort of stimulation to get Tommy to answer or just to react to her. But when a thought dawned on her, (Y/n) froze and her breath caught in her lungs.

Could Tommy be sleepwalking?

That was the only explanation she could come up with, other than Tommy having some kind of complete mental breakdown.

He wasn't responding to her, he wasn't looking at her or moving his eyes at all. He didn't seem to register her touch and his pupils didn't seem to have constricted or changed to adjust to the light when she turned it on. It was as if Tommy was completely void of any reaction or any response. If he were having a breakdown, there would have been signs before now, before tonight. Something would have tipped (Y/n) off. This had to be some sort of sleep walking episode.

"Tommy… baby, come on, please. Please, wake up."

What was she supposed to do? Did she try and get him to sit in the tub until he eventually woke up? Did she try and help him get out of the tub? She couldn't leave him stood in sopping wet clothes, she had to get him dried and changed before he went into shock or made himself sick.

But Tommy was a lot taller and broader and heavier than (Y/n). She wasn't sure she'd be able to take his weight if he leaned on her and if he fell, she wouldn't be able to catch him without both of them sustaining an injury or two.

"Oh, baby…" (Y/n) swept her eyes around the bathroom as her lips curled in distaste. She didn't know what to do.

She couldn't very well climb into the tub with Tommy. She wanted to, she wanted to stand in front of him and help him sit down or try and get him out the bath. But if she stood in the bath and she slipped, or Tommy crashed down on her, the baby was going to be at risk. And (Y/n) had no idea how to safely wake someone from sleep walking without causing or doing any damage.

With her hands clenched around Tommy's biceps, (Y/n) pressed her knees into the edge of the bath tub and tried to lean in front of him. His lips were still parted and the faraway look in his eyes was haunting and now etched into (Y/n)'s memory.

She wasn't quite sure what she was trying to do, but a scream tore from her lips when Tommy suddenly slammed backwards.

"Tommy!"

She thought he had slipped. She thought he was about to fall back and crash into the bath or whack his head and knock himself out, but he reacted quicker. His left hand plastered against the wall and his right hand deadlocked around (Y/n)'s upper arm, cutting off her circulation and causing blinding pains shooting through her nerves.

His body tilted backwards until he leaned to the left and his back and shoulders glued up against the tiled wall, sticking to the wall to prevent himself from falling down.

(Y/n) hated the shooting pains coursing through her knees that barged into the bath frame and she tried to keep hold of Tommy, although he was holding himself up just fine now.

It was as if he were a wax work that had come to life.

His body began to tremble and his chest heaved as he gasped for every inch of air that he could get. Droplets of water trickled down his nose and fell from his plump lips while he tried to look around and regulate his system again.

His eyes looked rabid and dangerous as they finally began to dilate and he clicked his jaw into place as he looked around the bathroom.

"W- wh… what?"

Where was he? What on Earth was he doing in the bathroom?

He was freezing cold. His body was wracked with trembles and spasms knocking him back into the wall as his muscles contracted and tightened in waves. He was soaking wet, but when he glanced his eyes down, his nose crinkled and his lips parted.

He was in the shower with his shorts and socks on. His clothes were stuck to his torso and legs and he could feel his woollen socks sticking uncomfortably to his frozen feet. Why was he so cold? Why was he in the shower? What had he been doing before he got in here?

The blood was pumping so harshly in his arteries that he was sure he was close to having a heart attack. It felt like Tommy's skin was coming alive, beating out the uneven rhythm his heart was setting. And his heart, the organ was throbbing and thundering against his ribs like it was trying to claw its way free of his chest.

Tommy tilted his pointed chin down and looked down at his wife who was clinging to his arms with her chest practically glued against his torso. It made for an odd angle when she lifted her head to look at him with eyes full of panic and exasperated, ragged breaths thundering past her lips.

"Can… can you climb out?" (Y/n) could see her words momentairely confused Tommy until she leaned back and gingerly pulled on his arms. Indicating her head down to signal for him to get out of the bath. They couldn't talk or do very much when they were both stood leaning over the bath like this.

Tommy moved his hands to grip (Y/n)'s arms when she didn't seem to dare let go of his biceps. His fingers trembled and tapped against her arms and he continued to gasp for air, but once (Y/n) straightened up and stepped back, Tommy tried to move with her. He clambered over the side of the bath and onto the bath mat and when (Y/n) knelt down, he followed her lead and crashed down to his knees beside her.

"Are you okay? Baby, are you alright?" (Y/n) allowed herself to let go of Tommy's arms in favour of cupping his face so she could turn his head in her direction. He was still breathing like he had run a marathon, but at least he was back with her.

"What… why were we in the shower? What time is it?" Ragged breaths slipped through each word causing him to stutter and caused his voice to come out croaky and quiet.

They didn't usually take showers during the night, at least, Tommy guessed it was still night considering how dim the bathroom looked and the blackness outside the frosted glass window.

Why were they in the bathroom? Why had they- or at least he, been in the shower? What time was it, the window was cast in darkness outside and Tommy wasn't sure he had even gone to sleep. He didn't remember falling asleep. He remembered lying in bed, a book in one hand and his arm draped around (Y/n) who had been curled up inside his side. He didn't remember lying down to try and sleep, but then again, he couldn't even remember which book he had been reading either.

He didn't remember waking up or coming into the bathroom, or leaving the bedroom at all.

"I think you were sleepwalking. Baby you- you were taking a shower in the dark." (Y/n) cupped Tommy's face in her hands, smoothing her thumbs across his cheekbones while she tried to gauge his reaction and see if he remembered anything at all.

"I don't… I didn't…"

All the thoughts running through Tommy's head must have been clear and the panic had to be written on his face, because (Y/n) leaned across and smothered her lips against his. The feeling of Tommy's frozen lips against hers made (Y/n) gasp into his mouth and she could feel how cold he was when she moved her hands to loop around his neck instead. He was like a block of ice.

She hoped that her body heat might just thaw him out a little and calm him down at the same time.

She felt Tommy's frozen cold hands move down to hold her waist and his thumbs glided up and down her hips while he leaned into her. Unintentionally making her as cold as him and soaking the droplets of water into her clothes instead.

It took him a few moments to dare to open his eyes again and look down at his wife. He hadn't meant to scare her. He hadn't realised what he was doing or knew that he had even left the bedroom, but Tommy could see that he had frightened her and it broke him. His job was worrying enough without giving (Y/n) even more frights like this.

"It's alright, baby." (Y/n)'s lips were upon his again, sealing her words with a promising kiss while her hands trailed down his tense, frozen biceps. "We need to get you dry."

Tommy took a second to look down at his sodden clothes again, but he didn't seem to have the will to move.

He tried to loosen his muscles and ride out the tension in his body while (Y/n) held his elbows and coaxed him to stand up. Part of him felt silly. He was a six foot man with more than one hundred pounds of muscle on him, and here he was letting his wife coach him and help him up like he a baby bird that needed taking care of.

He realised he was starting to slip off into his thoughts again while (Y/n) helped peel off his sodden clothes like she was helping a reptile shed its skin. She tossed all the soaked clothes into the bath, they could sort it out in the morning.

Tommy came back to his senses when a towel was suddenly wrapped around his torso and (Y/n)'s warm hands were gliding up and down his arms to get his attention. Her head was tilted to one side and she had a soft smile upon her face that made Tommy's insides turn to mush.

"It's okay." She murmured again and pushed up on her toes to kiss his neck. She was doing her best to calm him down and so far, it seemed to be working.

She gasped, taken by surprise when Tommy suddenly moved. His arms slipped beneath hers and deadlocked around her waist, pulling her flush against his damp, trembling skin. (Y/n) found herself smiling softly and she looped her arms around his neck while Tommy's face tucked up against her throat with his temple resting on her shoulder.

He didn't know why he had just experienced that for the first time, but now, Tommy didn't want to go back to sleep in case it happened again.

If he found his way into the shower during his sleep, what else would be find himself doing?

***

Tilting her head to the side, (Y/n) leaned her cheek on Tommy's shoulder and curled her hand around his arm. She smiled when she felt his lips pressing to the top of her head and allowed herself to wriggle up into his side a little more.

The sofa was inviting and comfy enough that (Y/n) felt like she could fall asleep at any moment, so she couldn't imagine how Tommy felt. Sitting here in her parents living room, both of them sinking into the sofa like this, it must be making Tommy as tired as it made (Y/n). But it didn't seem to matter how comfy, tired or snuggled down Tommy felt, sleep was still his enemy.

"Okay?" She heard him mutter into her hair and she nodded, keeping his arm bound against her chest while his hand stayed on her stomach, rhythmically stroking her bump.

She glided her hand up and down Tommy's arm while her attention shifted back to the tv. They had spent the majority of the afternoon here with Bobby and Athena and were staying for tea. Tommy seemed calm, calmer than he had been all week since his sleep walking episode.

"You good?"

Athena's voice snapped Tommy out of his thoughts and he managed a smile and nodded. He leaned forward a little, moving (Y/n) in the process so he could place his empty cup down on the coffee table.

He had switched to drinking decaf since he started having trouble sleeping, it didn't do much good but Tommy couldn't risk going back to caffeinated and not sleeping at all. He had to try and relax and get some sleep or he wasn't going to be fit for work at this rate.

"Just tired, as always." He was fighting to stay awake when all his body craved was to collapse into a dreamless state. He knew his in-laws knew the struggle he'd had recently.

Bobby had his fair share of sleepless nights so Tommy had tried talking to him to see if he had any tips and advice.

"Are you still having trouble sleeping?"

Tommy dragged his free hand up and down his face and let himself slouch down into the sofa a bit more. He wanted to stay as relaxed and calm as possible so when they went home tonight, he would still feel the same and might just be able to fall asleep for a little while. He just needed a few hours, that was all.

"Yeah, but I haven't wandered since that first time last week, which is good." It seemed to be a one-off incident with the sleepwalking. Tommy hadn't gone wandering again since that night and he had been very on edge every night since then.

He feared where he would wake up and what would happen, but every night when he managed an hour or two of sleep, he woke up right where he started. Right beside (Y/n). It was a relief for them both.

He had still talked to the doctor and got himself an appointment though. It had been the first time he had sleep-walked and he had to tell the doctor in case it happened again and so they would take him seriously about his insomnia.

He still couldn't quite get his head round what he had done. Getting a shower in the middle of the night was strange enough, without doing it in his sleep. And he wasn't one for cold showers either, so he must have been very confused in his sleep-induced state to turn on the wrong tap like that. But a cold shower while he was sleeping was preferable to a scolding one and getting burns on his skin. Although that might have woken him up faster.

"Maybe you should speak to the doctor. Some people sleepwalk when they're stressed."

"I'm booked in for next week, I'll make it until then." Tommy smiled and tilted his head back on the sofa while he moved his hand down from (Y/n)'s stomach to squeeze her thigh.

It was his silent way of ending the panic Athena might be having about him. With his relationship being fractured with his own mother and having no contact with his dad, when he married (Y/n), Athena and Bobby became his surrogate parents. But he didn't want them to worry about him.

He wondered if it was stress or something to do with panic. His job was stressful, but Tommy had always been good in a crisis and he was never overly panicked or came home worried. And he didn't have too much stress in his home life either.

The only thing he thought of that could be stressing him out was the baby. He worried about (Y/n), naturally, but even more so since she got pregnant. They'd tried for a baby two years ago and ended up having a miscarriage. Tommy didn't want that happening again. But surely that wasn't enough to stress him into sleep walking.

He was hoping the doctor would give him some medication, even if it was only temporary. Just something to settle his system and give him a reboot so he started to sleep properly again.

After waking up in the shower, Tommy couldn't help but panic about what he could do next. He might try to cook something. What if he started cutting vegetables and ended up slicing himself instead? Would he even wake up if he hurt himself while sleep walking, or would his mind not recognise or sense it? He had no idea if he would feel pain while in a sleep walking episode or not and the contemplation was frightening.

When the conversation shifted, (Y/n) felt Tommy kiss the top of her head while she nudged her cheek further into his shoulder and cuddled up into his side. She knew he was zoning in and out of the conversation and trying to focus on the movie on tv which was fine as she and Athena fell into a conversation together.

And she knew her dad was in the kitchen, already starting to prepare dinner like he normally did.

"What if we all went out for dinner next week?"

"I think-" (Y/n) cut herself off before she'd properly started when she suddenly felt Tommy's hand tighten around her thigh. Her brows pulled into a frown and she tilted her head back on his shoulder to look up at him.

Had she forgotten something? Did he have a lot of shifts next week? Did they have something planned out next week that she had forgotten about?

When she looked up at her husband, (Y/n) found herself frowning. Tommy's head was leaning to the right, away from (Y/n), but she could see a vacant look in his eyes and his expression looked like he was a stop-motion character that had been forgotten about.

He looked like someone had pressed pause on him.

His eyes were open, but his pupils were constricted and he was barely blinking properly while his lips hung slightly parted. And his hand was clenched around (Y/n)'s thigh, but he was frozen. His arm was tense on her thigh, his hand paused in grip on her leg and if she didn't have her head on his shoulder (Y/n) would have panicked that he had stopped breathing altogether.

"Babe…?" (Y/n) gently uncurled her hand from his bicep to rest her hand on his chest while she lifted her head from his shoulder to look at him properly, but the look on his face scared her.

"Is - is he sleeping?" Athena shuffled to the edge of the armchair she was perched on and set her drink down on the coffee table as she looked worriedly at her son in law.

She had heard of this, but she had never seen it before. Micro-sleeps. Where someone could fall asleep, or at least, their mind would partially shut them down into a state of REM sleep, while they were still up and previously moving about. Tommy's eyes were still open but his body was locked in place and he was taking soft breaths like he had indeed gone to sleep.

This was a way for the brain to catch a small ounce of rest, taking whatever form of sleep it could get when it was desperate. Was Tommy in such a critical need for sleep that his body was taking micro-naps? (Y/n) had never seen him do this before.

"Tommy, babe," (Y/n) gently patted her hand on his chest and started to run her hand up and down his sternum to stimulate him without giving him too much of a shock.

Unlike last week when he jolted awake in the shower, this time, Tommy simply blinked furiously and twisted his head from left to right, looking between them all.

His hand gave a tight squeeze around (Y/n)'s thigh before he stretched and wriggled in his seat. His pupils looked like they were going back to normal and his breaths were ever so slightly elevated.

"Sorry, what- what did you say?" Tommy shook his head to clear the fog that seemed to have rolled in. He had zoned out. He wasn't sure what conversation had occurred while he had drifted off but he didn't like the looks he was receiving.

He looked from Athena down to (Y/n) and his eyes narrowed when he noticed her furrowed brows and how she was biting her lower lip. She was looking at him with such concern in his eyes as if he had just admitted to some sort of murder. He moved his hand from her thigh to curl gently around her wrist that was resting on his chest, and he sighed when the touch seemed to make (Y/n) smile.

But there was still worry laced within her smile and when she looked over at her mum, she could see panic quickly being masked in Athena's eyes. She tried to keep the conversation going and talk to Tommy, both to check he was alright and to try and keep him awake so that little episode didn't happen again.

Tommy had never done that before. Maybe they needed that doctor's appointment sooner than they thought.

***

(Y/n)'s eyes fluttered open and her body jolted forward with a start. Her arm flopped across the bed with a thud and she groggily lifted her head up off the pillow, taking a second to look around.

Why was she awake? What time was it? What was happening?

Those three questions swirled around her head in a flurry while she tried to wake up and take in her surroundings.

The answer to the first question came easily. She was alone in bed, that was why she was awake. She had turned over towards Tommy's side of the bed, but her human radiator wasn't there to cuddle up to like she expected him to be.

The answer to the second question was 1:56am, the red letters on the digital clock flashed out at her like a horrible beacon.

And the answer to the third question was one (Y/n) wasn't sure she wanted to find out because a horrid thought dwelled in the back of her head. If it was this late into the night- or early into the morning- then that meant either Tommy couldn't sleep and was trying to keep himself busy. Or he was sleepwalking.

Panic flooded her system along with adrenaline and she could feel the baby wriggling to life within her when she thought about what Tommy was doing. Her hands pressed down into the bed and she managed to sit herself up, grimacing at how the baby shifted too and weighed heavy on her stomach.

It took her a while to get up and find her balance and when a cold shiver washed over her, she looked around the bedroom. Her hands snatched Tommy's hoodie that was laid on the chair next to the bedroom door and she dragged it over her frame, running her hands over her bump a few times to try and calm them both down.

"Baby?" Her voice carried into the empty hallway as she turned the light on and wrapped both arms around her middle, resting on top of her bump.

She made a beeline for the bathroom since that was where Tommy had been last time.

She wasn't sure what to expect. If he did it before, maybe he would be taking another shower in his sleep again. But then again, that had been a strange incident, Tommy might not do that again. Did sleep walkers always do the same thing when they acted out like this? Was it repetitive or was it random?

(Y/n) still didn't know what she was meant to do in this situation. She wasn't supposed to wake Tommy, so did that mean she just followed him around the house and kept an eye on him until he either woke up or went back to bed? Did she try and wake him gently or talk to him and hope her voice roused him from his state?

They hadn't gone to see the doctor yet, Tommy hadn't been assessed or had chance to talk to the doctor. (Y/n) hadn't had a professional tell her what was meant to happen in this situation.

She switched on the bathroom light and peered round, but she was pleasantly and horrifyingly surprised to see the bathroom vacant.

So he wasn't repeating the same action as last time.

She switched off the light and peeked into the nursery instead, but Tommy wasn't in there.

Perhaps he wasn't even sleepwalking. He could be making a drink. He could be reading a book downstairs, worried he might wake (Y/n) and therefore came downstairs instead. He might be watching tv. He didn't watch tv in bed after (Y/n) went to sleep because they were both light sleepers and the tv would wake (Y/n); something Tommy never wanted to do.

Her hand clung to the bannister as she slowly treaded downstairs, keeping her other arm safely over her stomach. (Y/n) didn't like walking about the house in the dark and she hated coming downstairs in the dead of night.

She was always afraid to find a burglar or see a face staring at her through the windows.

(Y/n) turned the downstairs light on, about to turn and head into the living room, but she stopped dead when she looked to the left.

The front door. It was open.

"Tommy? Baby, w-what are you doing?" Apprehension flooded (Y/n)'s voice as she crept towards the door. She didn't want to look.

What was he doing out there at two in the morning? (Y/n) didn't like where this was going. Tommy was a careful and methodical person, he wouldn't be outside late at night for no reason because they both knew what kind of people would hang around on street corners this late at night.

(Y/n) was always fearful of break-ins and burglars after their previous house had been broken into once before. Seeing the door open and knowing Tommy was around made (Y/n) worry that he had found a burglar or seen someone shady hanging around outside. It made her fear confrontation because she didn't want Tommy getting hurt.

Her hand trembled as she clung to the door and peered round. She didn't want to step outside unless she absolutely had to but she wanted to know what was going on and see if she had to make a phone call to her parents if something was wrong.

The soles of her feet ignited and caused her to gasp when she stepped onto the front step. It was freezing cold outside, and (Y/n) wasn't wearing any slippers or socks.

Maybe a pair of shoes might have been sensible, but (Y/n) was too nervous to think about wasting time and effort. She just wanted to find Tommy and get back inside to bed.

She didn't have to look far. She looked from left to right around the surroundings, dimly lit by street lights.

Her eyes immediately found her husband. He was stood just a few feet to the right of the front door. He was barefoot on the grass in front of the living room window, wearing his pyjama shorts and shirt.

"Tommy, what's the matter? What're you doing?"

(Y/n) found the nerve to pull away from where she was hiding beside the door and step onto the grass. She cringed at the feeling of the wet grass bubbling beneath her feet and how her soles sank into the soil that felt like sticky glue pulling her down.

She hoped no neighbours would be peering out of their windows this late at night and that any security cameras weren't looking this way. It did look rather odd, Tommy out on the front with (Y/n) huddling up at his side in a jumper and a thin pair of shorts that barely covered her inner thighs.

She knew both her legs were quaking and chattering together from the cold and her knees were threatening to give way. As her body started to dither from side to side from the low temperature.

She reached her hands out and clung to Tommy's arm while she looked up at him and took in his state.

He didn't have anything in his hands. He wasn't talking to or looking at anyone. He didn't seem to be doing anything at all except standing here in the dead of night like a statue.

"Oh no." (Y/n)'s voice broke and she pressed her forehead into Tommy's shoulder, clutching his arm tighter as she willed herself not to start crying.

He was sleepwalking.

Why had he gone downstairs and unlocked the front door? Why had he come out here in the middle of the night? What did his brain think was going on? This wasn't something Tommy would do even if he was awake, so why was he doing it now?

She had to get him back inside. (Y/n) couldn't let Tommy stay out here for the whole neighbourhood to watch. He looked like he was waiting for something or expecting some kind of fight to break out. The neighbours might think something was going on or Tommy was having some kind of breakdown.

Someone might think he was stalking the house and call the police.

(Y/n) was going to have to get him inside in his sleeping state or else she would have to call Athena and ask her step-mum to come down and help. She needed Tommy back in the privacy of their home so she could try and wait and see if he woke up as quickly as he had done last time.

Did other people who went sleepwalking normally venture outside? (Y/n) had heard of people driving while they were still technically asleep. She knew her dad said a woman had drove into the station- naked- whilst sleepwalking. At least Tommy wasn't stood out here in the nude.

"Baby, it's cold. Let's go back inside, hm?" (Y/n) pecked Tommy's shoulder and pushed up on her frozen toes to graze her lips along the side of his neck to try and stimulate him. Her fingers clutched at his arm tighter until she was sure he must have felt some sort of discomfort from her tight hold on him. And the way she was trembling was starting to make Tommy dither on the spot too.

She couldn't stand out here for long, it was too cold and too frightening to be out here where people might see them or try and cause some problems.

Would Tommy still be out here if (Y/n) didn't wake up? How long would he stay here if she hadn't come down? Would he have stayed out here all night, would he have continued to sleep standing up or would he have collapsed on the grass in a deep sleep? Someone could of hurt him if that happened or got inside the house if the front door was still unlocked.

The possibilities were endless and too frightening for (Y/n) to try and comprehend. She was just relieved she had found Tommy now, before anything too frightening happened.

She tried to be slow and gentle with her touch as her left hand stayed curled around his bicep and her right arm moved to wrap around his waist and her hand settled on his hip. She turned him to the left with a great deal of effort and ended up pressing her stomach into his side to try and get a better grip on him and turn him with her. He wasn't the easiest to move under any circumstance, especially when he was unresponsive like this.

"Come inside," She muttered into his arm and pulled until Tommy's feet finally moved and he slowly lolled towards the front door. His movements were slow and somewhat uncoordinated, but he was moving and that was more than enough for (Y/n).

Once she got him back inside, (Y/n) pressed herself right into his side, stitching them both together so he wouldn't wander off. She kept her right arm around him while she turned and shut the door hastily behind her, quickly turning the key to look the door. Although it didn't really matter when Tommy had clearly managed to unlock the door in his sleep, there was nothing to stop him from doing that again if he did this a second time.

She didn't know what to do now.

Did she try her luck getting Tommy up the stairs and back to bed? Did she usher him into the living room and wait for him to wake up? Did she wait and see what he tried to do next? Should she call someone?

This didn't feel like it classed as an emergency and (Y/n) would never want to burden the helpline and have them tell her she was being silly. The only person she could call was her dad. This wasn't a health issue that needed the paramedics, Tommy was breathing and moving and not in danger. If he had gone and disappeared or fallen or got hit by a car, then this would be a dire situation.

"Baby, let's go-" (Y/n) tried resting her hands on Tommy's arms as she stood behind him and leaned her cheek on his arm.

But her touch must have done something. She must have took him by surprise or shocked him because his entire frame jostled.

His arms coiled into his chest, his feet stumbled sending him two paces forwards and his head surged down like his neck had been broken. (Y/n) couldn't help the shriek she let out when a loud "Fuck!" spat past Tommy's lips as if someone had stabbed him.

"Tommy- baby, baby it's just me. I swear, i-it's me." The urgency in (Y/n)'s voice stopped her from bursting into tears as she took a step back and held her hands out in front of her.

She watched Tommy thunder as he turned around, eyes rabid and looking in every direction while his hands plastered on the wall and the bannister to stop himself from going down on his trembling knees. He was breathing like he had been submerged in water, gasping and spluttering like a fish while his chest rose and fell rapidly which made (Y/n) begin to worry all over again.

Tears began to well up in Tommy's eyes much the same as (Y/n) and he watched her with confusion pooling in his orbs as she reeled one hand to press down on her chest. She took a few deep breaths, trying to calm herself down but she could feel the baby twisting awfully in her stomach from the shock.

Tommy looked around as he pushed off the bannister and took a step closer to (Y/n).

Why were they downstairs? Why was she looking at him with such fright in her eyes? Why was his skin covered in goosebumps? Why were his feet sodden and itchy?

"What was I doing?" He almost dreaded to ask and the scratchy tone to his voice made it hard for him to speak clearly at all.

God, what had he done this time?

The last thing he remembered was lying in bed and actually managing to fall asleep. He remembered curling around (Y/n), praying that he could sleep through the night without any issues. He remembered that feeling in his legs where he felt like he was walking on water or running through the air and that strange thought process that happened when he was on the verge of sleep.

How long had he been asleep before he started wandering the house? Where exactly had he wandered?

"Baby…?" Tommy reached out for (Y/n), overwhelmed with relief when she surged forward and gripped his torso and stood in his embrace. He took a second to look her up and down. She was in her pyjamas and had one of his hoodies over the top, but she was shivering. She felt as cold as he did, but the house didn't feel altogether freezing cold.

"Tommy, you- God, you were outside, on the front." (Y/n) moved a trembling hand to point behind her before her hand reached up to cup the side of his neck. "You unlocked the door, I- I found you outside, just stood there."

A croaky sounded left Tommy's lips and one hand moved to tangle in his hair which he started to pull like he wanted to rip the strands from his scalp. He trembled on the spot even as (Y/n) pressed herself up against his chest and smothered her face into his chest. He tried to take deep breaths but all he managed were little wheezes that got somewhat better when he started to focus on the feeling of (Y/n)'s lips kissing his sternum through his shirt.

He could feel her thumb stroking along his jaw and over his pulse point and her other hand circled over his shoulder and moved to stroke his back.

Tommy tried not to grip (Y/n) too tightly, but he couldn't help but dig his fingertips into her hips and he pulled her off balance when he tugged her closer. He could feel the little hitch in her breath when she was fully glued up against his chest, her bump pressing into his abdomen and her face smothered in his chest. But she didn't seem to mind.

She let Tommy bind an arm tightly around her waist with his hand clutching her hip for dear life. She let his other hand cup the back of her neck and grip her like he thought she was a figment of his imagination that was about to disappear.

Why had he gone outside? What was his mind doing to him? Why did he wander out there in his sleep when he would never venture outside in the night when he was awake and alert? That wasn't part of his natural behaviour. Why was this happening to him?

"It's okay, it'll be okay." She muttered into his chest that she continued to kiss while Tommy grappled to hold her tighter. Until she was almost whimpering into his chest at their crushing embrace.

She didn't know what she could do, but she would do anything to try and make things okay. She could lock the bedroom door and hide the key from him. She would have to make sure he didn't see where she hid it, and it would be a risk in case he tried to break the door in his sleep to get out. But she couldn't lock the door every night, it wasn't a long-term resolution.

She would have to be more vigil at night and keep an eye on Tommy. Any movement, any change in position or dip in the bed would have to alert (Y/n) and she would have to keep an eye and watch him if he went wandering again.

"I'm- I'm sorry, sweetheart. I didn't… Jesus, I don't mean to-"

"Shh. I've got you, we'll sort this out, I promise."

Tilting her head back, (Y/n) pushed up on her toes and pressed a wet kiss to his lips while she cupped his face in her hands. She felt his hand tighten on her neck, keeping her head tilted up towards him while he pressed down into her like she was the oxygen he needed to keep himself alive. And his other hand left her hip to slide beneath her jumper and feel for the baby and any movements.

He had to make sure this wasn't some strange dream. He wanted to keep himself awake and focused and ground himself with something, and (Y/n) was doing the trick right now.

As long as she held him, he would be okay.

#imagine #911 imagine #tommy x reader #tommy kinard imagine #tommy kinard #tommy kinard 911 #tommy kinard x reader #pregnant! reader #bobby nash

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mrcrawly · 23 days ago

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Jayvik headcanons

hello jayvik nation im dumping these here bc im almost done with the second chapter of my fic and these have been stewing a while

Viktor

has the most beautiful curly calligraphy handwriting ever but it's so curly and fancy you genuinely can't read it

Ibuprofen allergy. source: my twisted mind

fidgeting with stuff all the time. paperclips, pencils, clips, rubber bands, the buttons on his vest

bonus to that one: he messes with his vest buttons so much that Jayce is constantly having to sew them back on when they come off

chronic nail biter

big sweet tooth

great cook but a shitty baker

"get even" kind of person; probably holds grudges from the second grade

doesn't cry very often but can be sensitive in the sense that he cares very much how his closest friends view him and internalizes their opinions

love languages are words of affirmation and acts of service

likes to be touched but not held (autism)

hates winter because it makes his joints hurt, summer is unbearably hot and he can't stand it, he has spring allergies; default fall enjoyer

animals really like him and strays tend to show up at the lab or follow him around

children like Viktor. Viktor doesn't like children back

kids will sometimes randomly talk to him and tell him things in public and he doesn't have the heart to be mean to them or ignore them so he just sits there like "mhm ☺️" while they talk until their parents apologize and walk off

probably has a pet reptile (a turtle or some kind of lizard methinks)

cold natured and wears seven hundred billion blankets to bed every night no matter the season

identifies as male in the sense that he was born a man and just never bothered to think much about it but doesn't fully grasp the concept or purpose of gender. could tell you what makes a man a man or what makes a woman a woman but doesn't understand why nor care

interested in jayce from the beginning but never felt as if he was in competition with Mel

sorry they can pry the JayMelVik love triangle out of my cold dead hands ♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️

not very affectionate because he doesn't know how to discuss his own feelings but very good at soothing other people

Jayce

dysgraphia (i think that's the term?) – not many issues with reading but not the best with writing

viktor is hyperlexic so it works out alright

AMAZING at drawing. like if he didn't have the passion for science he would be an artist. he draws out all their diagrams and blueprints and Viktor labels them

can cook pretty well but doesn't like to do it; if he stays at Viktor's place then Viktor always cooks for him

likes baking because he controls every single thing that goes in and it's very exact

both he and Viktor have chronic pain in their hands (carpal tunnel) from spending all their time taking notes and working with small delicate parts

he doesn't complain about his even when it bothers him because it feels silly knowing how bad Viktor's pain is every day 💔💔💔💔

10,000 step haircare routine but Viktor's looks better anyway

used to be prone to acne as a teen (if accutane existed in arcane he would have been an accutane kid)

(i was an accutane kid and im projecting)

shaved regularly pre-hexcore because his father had facial hair and he looks a lot like his dad anyway; he was always a little worried if he grew it out it would remind Ximena too much of his dad and make her sad

took entire days off of work and pushed deadlines back when Viktor got bad just so he could stay with him when Viktor was in too much pain to do practically anything

used to deliberately sleep in the lab because Viktor would stay late and he didn't want Viktor to be alone in case he passed out or something happened

love languages are physical touch, gift giving, and quality time

money doesn't exist to him when he's buying other people things. can't do secret santas at Christmas bc he constantly exceeds the budget

simultaneously one of those people who legitimately cannot accept gifts and feels bad when people give him things

was genuinely so in love with Mel; used to have dreams about marrying her and living somewhere quiet with her

most definitely forgave her for manipulating him on the council and understood her but it was just never the same

bottom. argue with the wall

OUGHHHH my shayla 💔💔💔💔💔💔💔

guess my favorite character challenge level impossible (it's so unbelievably obvious)

#arcane jayce #i love arcane it definitely didn't ruin my life #arcane league of legends #jayvik #jayce talis #jayce x viktor #viktor arcane #viktor league of legends #jayce league of legends #arcane #arcane s2 spoilers #mel medarda #mel league of legends #my favorite character is jayce btw #it was definitely obvious #viktor nation

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adieutristana · 27 days ago

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shooting star; mel medarda x fem! reader

why is there so little mel x reader... okayyy i'll write it myself

summary; a cozy night stargazing with mel. you see a shooting star, and convince her to wish on it.

characters included; mel medarda

tags/warnings; fluff, lots of fluff, mentions of political unrest and war, mentions of death, s2 spoilers, set post s2

men dni.

“and that one is orion,”

you point out. you and mel are on her balcony, leant over a curved railing, looking at the night sky together. your eyes glued to the map of constellations, and mel’s eyes fixed on you.

truth be told, she’s never understood this kind of thing, but mel has always enjoyed coming out to look at the sky to clear her mind. late nights after stressful council meetings, evenings when the world felt heavy, nights she tossed and turned but couldn’t find sleep. the stars and the fresh air were something she could always rely on.

war is war. people betray people, people die, people fight, people discover that they’re the farthest thing from what they thought they were. but the night sky is unchanging.

“and what’s that one?”

mel points at another constellation, voice smooth and sweet.

“oh! that’s… hm…”

you prop your elbows on the railing, squinting to examine the stars. these are small, not as visible.

“lyra.”

mel hums, tilting her head to the side ever so slightly as she looks at the constellation.

“tell me about it, love.”

“well… there’s not really much to it. it’s a lyre, but if you go into specifics, it’s the lyre of orpheus. they say his music was so great, non-living things would be charmed.”

you explain, voice soft. mel turns her gaze back to you, lips curving into a gentle smile.

“it’s a beautiful image, with a beautiful story. there’s beauty in simplicity.”

you slowly, tentatively, inch your head downward to rest onto mel's shoulder.

despite being together for a little over a year now, you still find yourself getting so nervous around the woman. maybe it was her aura- the way she exuded grace, confidence, and power. maybe it was her beauty, light catching green eyes in a way that you swore could blind you, or her calloused hands that held you with such tender care. the effortless fluidity of her voice, which never failed to soothe you.

mel looks over to you, letting out a contended sigh and using her hand to guide your head onto her shoulder. she keeps her hand there, fingernails tracing nonsensical patterns into your scalp.

"it's a beautiful night, isn't it?"

"it is."

your eyes scan the sky, looking for another constellation to point out to mel. since the passing of her late mother, the unrest in piltover, finding out about her lineage and the truth of her brother's passing, mel sought these quiet moments more and more. the woman had a substantial amount of time to think, to rediscover herself.

what a daunting task. to rediscover yourself in your thirties. when you've built a life and identity for yourself, only to find out that most if not all of it is false.

she had time to think. these were moments when she didn't want to think. the only thing that mel wanted to focus her energy on was the feel of cool air against her face, the sound of your voice, and the peace your company brought.

you wanted to comfort mel more often than not, and were surprised when she let you. the councilwoman you knew wasn't beyond comfort, but one of the last things she would do was admit she needed it.

yet, more and more frequently, mel would stop at your door and ask if you could just listen to her talk. you didn't have to say anything, just hold her and listen. if you could go on a walk with her. if you could help her cook in the morning, despite the fact you knew she didn't need help.

a grounding presence was one of the things mel needed the most, and in moments like these, she knew just how much she needed it. how much she’d come to need you.

“oh! mel, look!”

you gasp, your head coming up from her shoulder and finger pointing at the sky.

“i- what?”

she breathes out, eyes searching, but not finding anything.

“a shooting star!”

mel glances around for another moment, then her eyes settle on it. sure enough, a shooting star.

“it’s beautiful, love. i’m not sure i’ve ever seen one in person.”

you smile, grabbing her hand and gently interlacing your fingers with hers.

“well, you have now.”

another moment of silence, your gaze glued to the sky above you, while mel rubs her thumb along the back of your hand.

“well?”

“what?”

you purse your lips, turning your head to meet mel’s eyes.

“did you make a wish?”

mel’s voice has a tone of confusion, maybe she’s not sure what you’re talking about.

“what do you mean?”

“a wish! you know the saying, you wish on a shooting star.”

mel lets out a low chuckle, shaking her head.

“darling, that’s for children.”

although she says this, your girlfriend’s tone has no malice or mockery in it. but you still gasp in feigned offense, placing your free hand on your chest.

“ah- you’re no fun! come on! i already made one!”

mel's lips tug into a soft grin, her eyes examining your expression. the slight pout, the way your eyes bore into hers. it's all just so adorable.

the woman sighs, looking back to the night sky. the star is almost gone, almost out of your line of sight. she didn't believe in this kind of thing. superstition and myth was beyond mel, but if it made you happy, she supposed it couldn't hurt. seeing the smile on your face and the way she knew your eyes would twinkle would make absolutely anything worth it. she hummed to herself, thinking. what could she wish for?

mel already had a lot of what she could've wanted. she had a woman whose love was unwavering. she was in good health, she was of high esteem and respect, she had a beautiful home, and she was alive despite everything the past few months put her through.

"alright, alright. i suppose i'll make a wish."

she said, dragging on her words with a playful smile. you looked over to her, eyes waiting, flickering between her and the star.

"i wish-"

you gasp, rushing to clap a hand over her mouth and frantically shaking your head.

"you can't tell me! it won't come true, love."

mel stares at you wide-eyed for a moment, and settles back into a gentle expression. she grasps your wrist, moving your hand from her mouth and bracing her elbows back on the railing of her balcony. she gazes at the almost-gone star, slowly exhaling as she thinks.

"okay. i made my wish."

you smile as you meet her eyes again, slowly wrapping your arms around her waist from behind and resting your chin on her shoulder- but not before you press a slow, warm kiss to glossed lips.

"good. let's hope it comes true."

what did she wish for, exactly?

a comfortable, happy future with her love by her side.

#arcane x reader #mel medarda x reader #arcane x you #reader insert #sapphic

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phantomwitch16 · 9 months ago

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Recently I've been thinking about Hypnos and his position in Hades Hades 2. I've been seeing a lot of posts about him lately so I really want to talk about him cause to be honest, other than Zagreus, Hypnos is my favourite character in both games.

From what I've seen from Nyx's family, Hypnos seems to be the odd one out and too be fair, he quite literally is. Most if not all of his siblings are reclusive, quiet and don't keep in contact, similar to how it was with Nyx and Chaos. But Hypnos is the opposite, being quite sociable, talkative and wants to be around his mother and brothers as much as possible. In fact, that's possibly why he works at the house, likely to be closer to Nyx and his brothers. Which really makes sense, since out of all of his family, he never sees any of his other siblings save for their Nyx, Than and Charon and that was largely due to their obligations to the house. But despite his easy going demeanor, Hypnos is probably one of the most powerful gods in the house, save for Nyx given that he was able to put everyone in the house to fall asleep.

Which I imagine it was quite isolating to be doing his duties, especially since most of his siblings, notably Than, were off doing something else. At least with Than, he had the opportunity to see Nyx and Charon whenever he had the time. Which makes sense since other than sleep and death being two sides of the same coin, there isn't much else that keeps Hypnos connected with his family and its likely what made him want to take a job as a receptionist, despite how bored he generally is at it.

It's sad looking back on first game when he's being talked down to by Than and Nyx for having a difficult time to get the hang of doing essentially two full time jobs. Thankfully by the end of the game, he's managed to become much more capable in managing both jobs and having a better relationship with his family.

But this has made me wonder if working as the receptionist had a drastic affect on him in the second game. He's practically in a comatose state and has been like that since before Chronos attacked, since Mel was a baby and it's one of the biggest questions of the community.

I have a few ideas what could've happened to him and the possibly larger role he many have within Hades.

I haven't watch the technical test and frankly i don't want to know too much until the game comes out on the switch, but i think Hecate was down at the house was partly due to Hypnos' condition and maybe to see Mel as well. Because frankly it would be a large part of concern for everyone to come across Hypnos and being unable to wake him up. So she comes to examine him and while there, Chronos escaped, leading her to escape with Hypnos, Melinoe and the portrait.

As for what could've put Hypnos into that sleep, it could've been possible that he was doing so well before the events of the Hades 2. There could've been a large influx of souls and some additional preparation for Melinoe's birth that caused a lot of tension in the house. Or else, he received a terrible vision. In Greek Mythology, Hypnos had a great connection with handling the visions and prophecies. Mainly delivering them from Apollo or other Gods to prophets such as the Oracle of Delphi, alongside his sons. It could be possible that Hypnos received a vision from someone that influenced him to go into a deep sleep.

With him being asleep since then, it's likely that he's only been sleeping. However, it could be possible that Hypnos could be aiding those who were left behind or helping Mel and the others in the Crossroads? Such preventing other enemies to spawn alongside Chronos or putting those left behind in a deep sleep so that they won't feel pain or be controlled by the Titan.

What i find most interesting is his connection with Melinoe. From the get-go, we're already well aware that Mel looks up to Hypnos and finds him fascinating which makes sense. In mythology, Melinoe was not only had a connection to Hecate and ghosts, but one with sleep, specifically bringing about nightmares and madness.

With this connection to him, Mel could possibly interact with Hypnos in her dreams or wake him from his slumber. Or if those who were in the house were under his control, Hypnos could lull them into a sleep and Mel could wake them up by inducing a terrible nightmare that could shake off whatever control Chronos has over them.

I don't know if Hypnos might still have his old job by the end of the second game but considering with Mel could intercept dreams, I think that he would get a promotion by overseeing her duties or training her in those aspects of her abilities, probably punishing those worthy of those nightmares or aiding him in handing out prophecies.

I highly doubt that all of this would be used in the game but its a nice idea.

#hades 2 #hades game #hades melinoe #hades the game #hades nyx #hades thanatos #hades hecate #hades hypnos

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fadingdaggerr · 9 months ago

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Hii!! I hope you've had a great day!!

So, I had this idea and I can't stop thinking about it, it's like rotating in my brain like a Rotisserie Chicken. IDK if you're still taking requests but I just had to send this.

Anyway, Melissa and reader are in someone else's house (R parents or idk some kind of sleepover with the teachers) and for some reason they can't sleep together in the same bed/room, like they're used to, which is concerning R because Melissa doesn't really sleep well alone.

But Mel tries to ease R saying she'll be just fine for one night, and very reluctantly R agrees.

Well, it turns out she can't. R and obviously a few others in the house wake up to Melissa's screaming in the middle of the night and R runs to her, shes is sobbing, shaking and clutching R for dearlife, just absolutely terrified and not even letting R move. R calm her down and take care of her, like with a lot of fluff and comfort.

I'm just obsessed with R taking care of Mel and being really sweet.

Yeah that's it. I love your stories, they are really really good. And I could only think of you when this thing came out of my brain.

+ I absolutely loved what you did in "Know I'm Alive", I was kicking my feet and internally screaming. (I sent that anon 👉👈) So thanks, I enjoyed it a lot, like a lot a lot, like, if I could I would eat that it.

You're really talented!! <3

by the sun, by the moon

pairing: melissa schemmenti x gn!reader

summary: request above! | 4.8k

includes: no pronoun use for r, fluff, hurt/comfort, family play fights/sibling banter, r’s family adores mel, probably ooc!mel oops

warnings: unhealthy relationship dynamic (short), attempted violence (short), mentions/insinuations of sex, one outdated traditional value, sleep difficulties/nightmares, anxiety/panic attack

note: please feel free to skip the section that discusses the unhealthy relationship dynamic/violence. it begins after the first section divide with the line “for her entire childhood…” those topics are only explicitly stated there and only referenced one other time. please do not feel as tho you need to read triggering material to understand the story, i tried to make it understandable without having to read potentially distressing content :)

Melissa’s head tips back when she hears you coming back downstairs, having been waiting for you since your mom called during The Real Housewives time. The way you’re watching your feet with furrowed brows makes her fully turn until she’s kneeling on the couch, leaning over the back to get closer to you.

“Something wrong?” Melissa asks, reaching to grab your hand to pull you closer.

You shake your head, “no, no.” Warm hands rise to cradle the redhead’s face, “how would you feel about spending the night at my parents place Saturday? They’re hosting Jonah’s birthday, wanted our help to set up the night before.”

Her eyes widen, “just Saturday night?”

“Just Saturday,” you reaffirm, tucking a loose hair behind her ear. She cautiously nods, barely moving. “We don’t have to if you’re not comfortable with it, I’m not going to make you.”

“I know, I know,” she says through her breath, “we’ll stay the night.” The kiss you press to her forehead feels heavier than just a silent thank you.

—☽—

For her entire childhood and through her marriage, Melissa slept like a rock. She slept through Kristen Marie’s and Joe’s snoring, her college girlfriend’s sleep talking, her parents having a screaming match so loud the cops got called. Before starting teaching, she even had to train herself to wake up at the sound of her alarm, knowing that being late to the school was ten times worse than being late to JC Penney.

Two years after she finally left Joe, Melissa met Eric.

Tall, charming, nice-smelling Eric with his salt-and-pepper beard always tidy, a covered up Marine tattoo on his forearm. He’d bought her drink after his friend accidentally knocked hers off the counter of the bar, and two hookups later, she was agreeing to a real date. Three months later, she was his girlfriend and allowed him into her apartment. He got to know where the spare key was hidden after a year.

Eric was everything Joe was not. During arguments, Joe would shut down and leave, only returning when he smells like cheap liquor and some other woman’s perfume. Eric always stayed, told her his point of view, listened to hers, calmly told her when she was overreacting. He was smooth, never raised a hand towards her or threw things at the walls. Melissa always knew when she was in the wrong, but he never made her feel bad about it.

Eric was particular. He liked his shirts folded a certain way, beer only from a glass, and silence when he worked. If she was excited about anything, he only ever allowed her to speak about it until he’d lost interest, almost always by the time she paused to take a breath. When he properly introduced her to his friends, his hand on her knee would tighten when she spoke. Quickly, she learned that the tighter the grip, the less she should speak. Four hours at some sports bar and Melissa had only been able to say a total of six sentences. Eric liked Melissa quiet. Melissa became quiet.

He started to prod about meeting her family, and she shut him down. Again and again. The fourth time, he banged his fist against the table, the end of his fork creating a small dent. Green eyes fixated on the dent as he began to calmly explain that he had introduced her to his family, it was her turn. Mumbling those were your buddies got her stuck on her own couch that night, clutching the blanket Nana made her before she started college.

Two months later, she began to slowly bring back Eric’s clothing to his apartment on the off-chance they went there for a night. Grading her student’s assignments began to take longer and she triple-checked the scores to waste more time, suddenly too tired to have sex or even talk before going to sleep. Otherwise, she listened to his rules, spoke when spoken to, cooked when asked.

The morning he narrowly avoided calling her a moron to her face when she made the eggs over-medium instead over-easy, she officially made her choice. That night, at the Italian restaurant he brought her to, she called it off.

“Why?” Eric asked, eyes stone, unwavering from hers.

She took a deep breath, “you treat me like a pet. Speak when spoken to, move when told, I’m sick of it.” Her grip on the table cloth tightened, “tomorrow, I will put your stuff outside. You’ll pick it up when I tell you to, and then you will leave.”

He sits back in his chair, tongue poking at his bottom lip, “and if I don’t want to break up?”

“Too bad,” she shrugs. Standing from the table, Melissa leaves him with the check and the sad excuse of Italian cuisine on the table.

At work the next day, it takes all morning, lunch, and prep to fully debrief Barbara on everything that had been going on. It made sense to the kindergarten teacher why she had yet to meet this Eric fella, but after hearing this, she knew Melissa wasn’t proud of getting herself in this situation. A promise of a wine weekend and greasy food makes Melissa truly smile. Barbara hadn’t realized how fake every little grin had been until now, she missed her best friend.

That afternoon, Melissa came home to the loose brick that hid her spare key ajar. The blood in her veins runs cold. Opening the unlocked door, glass scratches across the wooden floor, crunching under her heels. Every picture frame, the television, the radio, the coffee table, the stovetop, the tea set from her grandfather, all smashed to pieces. Holes were in nearly every wall, the stair railing broken. The entire first floor was destroyed, only upstairs was left pristine, as if nothing had happened at all. Bat in hand, she checks every closet, under her bed, in the bathtub, everywhere. He was gone.

Leaning against the wall, she slides down and sobs. Melissa is forced to make a choice she didn’t want to make. Opening her phone, she calls Joe.

Joe, despite everything he had done, was at Melissa’s house within the hour. In one hand he held a bag from the hardware store, containing new locks and keys, the other hand had his very own bat, nails pounded through the wood. Like he said when they signed the papers, just because he wasn’t in love with her, doesn’t mean he didn’t care.

Three weeks later, after things had settled and locks were changed, Melissa felt more secure. Still every night, she woke at every sound, wind and the smoke detector quickly became her mortal enemies. Bundled in her soft pajamas and thick comforter one night, she finally fell into a hard, deep sleep forced from pure exhaustion.

Paperclips, a screwdriver, and a small sheet of flexible metal are all someone needs to pick a lock and shift the deadbolt. Eric surely knew that, always the smart man, yet never the brightest. Slowly, he moved up the stairs, bourbon fueling his motions as well as his heavy steps.

A particularly loud thunk wakes Melissa, hand flying under her pillow to the bat Joe had made her promise to keep there. Another thump made her jump out of bed and to the side of her dresser with an iron grip around Edith Houghton. When her door opened, she stayed pressed into the corner, hoping she stayed hidden just long enough for him to leave so she could grab her phone.

Liquor breeds stupidity, worsens it when it is already present, and Eric had left to check the bathroom. Quickly, Melissa called the police, shakily texting Joe as she whispered to the operator. At that point, she didn’t care who got there first. She just wanted to be free of him.

She moved to a new apartment before the month even ended. Barbara insisted on cameras, which Gerald installed. Joe insisted on a nailed up bat, which he made himself. Not a night has gone by since then where she didn’t have it within arms reach of the bed.

It took six years for her to sleep again.

—☽—

The light tracing of nonsensical patterns on her abdomen is what wakes Melissa, eyes cracking open to the bright sun peeking through the curtains. She wishes now, more than ever, that she had agreed to the blackout curtains, groaning into her pillow. With the knowledge she’s now awake, several soft kisses press against her shoulder, traveling to her neck. With a sleepy grin on her face, Melissa turns to face you.

“Morning,'' you mumble against her lips, hand traveling up to her hair to separate the knots that you created. “Sleep good?”

The only response you get is a little huff that almost sounds like yeah, her face burying in your neck to hide from the light. You lay there with her, finishing your detangling mission as Melissa’s nails trace up and down your arm. A final, sound kiss lands on the crown of her head before you shuffle out from underneath her, reaching for your previous discarded university shirt and sweatpants. The redhead watches through droopy eyes, scanning over you before your pajamas cover everything she adores.

“Gotta get up, beautiful,” you say through a yawn as you walk out the room, “we need to be leaving for one.” A tiny groan escapes her lips as she rises from the bed, though a small smile crosses her lips when she sees your sweatshirt thrown over the chair in the corner, just waiting for her.

Not even halfway down the stairs, there’s a clatter from the kitchen and a quiet exclamation of fuck. “You’re not even awake and you want me up,” Melissa says as she walks to the coffee maker. She’s met with a small slap on her ass in return, not even caring to be embarrassed of the girlish giggle she lets out.

Whose fault it is that you’re late leaving, who could tell? Between the forgoing packing and wrapping your cousin’s present last night for a taste of Melissa and her lack of pants this morning, it’s hard to say. Nothing that going a gentle twenty over on the highway can’t mend.

Driving up the dirt road, the dense trees thinned and your parent’s yellow house came into view. Your father’s questionably functional truck sits in the front of the garage, your mom and brother’s cars parked close together on the lawn. Seeing the way your hands tighten on the steering wheel, Melissa slides her hand from your elbow to the free hand on your thigh, playing with your rings to calm you. Being at your parents house was always overwhelming, fun, but overwhelming.

Narrowly avoiding scraping the side, you pull in next to your brother’s car. Looking at each other, you and Melissa give each other a nod of we got this. She’d been over here before, she’d been to three family reunions and almost every birthday party, but never had you two stayed the night, always being some of first to leave to sleep in your own bed.

With a little grunt, you hop out of the car and jog to Melissa’s side to open her door. She gives you a half glare when you tap her hand away from helping carry the bags in, you never let her lift a finger, if you can help it.

“Well, look who decided to show up!”

Both you and Melissa jump at your mother’s yell from the porch, bangles clanking together as she widely waves to the both of you. Gravel crunches under her feet as she rushes over to the two of you, immediately pulling Melissa into a hug. Before you were banned from saying it, you used to joke that your parents preferred your girlfriend to their own child. The giant smile on Melissa’s face when she interacts with your family makes it worth it.

Tumbling upstairs, you bring your bags into your childhood bedroom with Melissa close behind. Even with every time she had been here, she loved being in your room. It was a time capsule of your life before college, all the posters of bands and movies still hanging on the walls, trinkets covering every space. She particularly loved the little collection of rocks on your bookshelf, clearly in order from favorite to least favorite.

The bed bobs as you both drop onto the mattress, groaning at the comfort after three hours in the car. You turn your face towards her, leaning to press a kiss to her shoulder, “I love you.”

Melissa leans in closer, “I love you, too.” She watches your eyes flick to her lips, beating you to the chase and pressing her lips to yours softly. It takes every ounce of effort to not moan at your tongue tracing her lip, her hand coming up to grip your shirt and keep you close. Stomping up the stairs makes you both jump apart, feeling like teenagers getting caught, not that the room was helping.

The door opens to show your dad, boots trekking in dirt that will inevitably get him in trouble with your mom. The hand not on the doorknob is over his eyes, “you two better be decent. Ma has lunch ready downstairs and clothing is probably mandatory.”

“Knock it off,” you mumble as you shuffle towards him so he can give your head a gentle noogie. Neither of you were big on hugs, only really being physically affectionate with your partners, but the love is always clear in every fistbump and hand on your shoulder.

You and Melissa trail behind your father as he goes to the kitchen, both fighting laughs after nearly getting caught by your dad. However, the second your mom peers over at the two of you, you both act like you had been silent the whole time, eyes flicking around in feigned innocence.

Lunch is a mismatch of all the foods your mom made for the birthday party the next day, making you all be her taste testers, even if she only really wants Melissa’s opinion as the other cook in the family. Pasta salad, potato salad, mac and cheese, shortcake, even some chicken with her new lemon pepper recipe. You and your brother fight over who gets first dibs on the pasta salad, ending with his wife taking the serving spoon from your hands and grabbing some for herself.

“Act your age,” Kennedy says to her husband, making you laugh, before she gives you a sharp glance, “that goes for you, too.” Melissa turns away to unsuccessfully hide her own laugh from you.

Lunch ends with your mom and your brother arguing over another serving of macaroni, “we need food for tomorrow! Fuck’s sake, Marcus.”

—☽—

Your father divides everyone into groups to set up the backyard. Your mother takes Melissa and Kennedy to help set up the tables and lights, forcing you and Marcus to help your father with the tent, bonfire pit, and yardgames.

Getting all the yardgames for the little cousins was the easy part, even if it took a while because the three of you had to play a game of cornhole before you could do anything else. None of you got a single one in after two turns, making you all set into defeat, the game was agreed between the three of you to be stupid now. With your father taking a break now, getting the tent together was a doomed venture with you and Marcus.

“If you don’t let me hold it up, it’s gonna keep falling.”

“Fuck off! No, it won’t,” Marcus says with confidence, trying to stand the tent all at once before securing it. Four had already fallen, and a job that should only take twenty minutes was taking nearly an hour.

“How is it gonna stay up if nothing’s holding it, huh? Thought you knew everything?” He flips you off and doesn’t answer, continuing putting the spike in the ground, though without the other end being held up, the weight pulls it down again. Giving up, you walk away and attempt to find your dad for something else to do. You stop in your tracks, just step from the patio.

Watching Melissa with your family always makes butterflies erupt in your chest. She used to be so nervous around them, uncharacteristically quiet and meek, but now she’s almost as carefree with them as she is with her own. The sunlight makes her hair shine, and it’s damn near impossible to look away. It seems you’re of similar mind, her head turning towards you, fighting a grin when she sees the dopey grin on your face.

You almost start to walk towards her, but a strong hand pulls you back. Your dad pushes the hatchet into your hands, “you’re on firewood duty.”

“Bu-”

“Nope, you’re not slinking off to your girl. Go chop the wood, Casanova,” he says as he walks back to help Marcus with the tent.

It’s hours before you even get a chance to see Melissa again, as if your parents were keeping you apart. Which they were, knowing that you’d ignore everything you had to do if it meant you got to just look at Melissa. By the time you got back inside, the button up you’d been wearing was abandoned on a lawn chair and you were out of breath. How much firewood does one bonfire even need?

Walking in the backdoor into the kitchen, Melissa is leaning against the counter, her eye on the mixer filled with what will be cheesecake going to your tanktop clad form as she chats with Kennedy. Creeping up beside her, you wrap an arm around her waist and press a lingering kiss to her cheek, mumbling a greeting into her skin before trudging upstairs to shower the sweat and dirt off.

—☽—

By the end of the night, everyone is half-awake and struggling to keep their eyes open as a TV movie drones on. Neither you or Melissa are paying attention, too wrapped up in one another in the arm chair. Legs dangling over the arm, Melissa is seated on your lap, head tucked into your shoulder as you mindlessly play with her hair. The hand on the back of your neck stops its soft ministrations, her breathing slowing as she fights falling asleep.

You speak quietly for only her to hear, “you ready for bed?” She just nods against you, and you tap her legs to prompt her to move. Her hands hold onto your arm to steady herself, wavering where she stands.

“Alright, we’re calling it. Night guys, we’ll see you in the morning,” you announce into the room as Melissa starts going towards the stairs, not trusting her ability to speak when she’s this tired. You get a quiet chorus of night before you walk to the stairs, but your mother’s voice stops your movements.

“Jellybean, could you do me a favor and take the trash out before you head upstairs?” she asks without taking her eyes off the TV.

You internally groan before nodding, turning to Melissa, “go up, baby. I’ll be right there.”

This catches your mother’s attention, immediately moving to face you, “you mean to say ‘goodnight,’ right?”

“What?”

Her eyebrows rise, “you’re saying goodnight, then going to your room. Right?” Melissa’s blood immediately runs cold, color draining from her face. If she was tired two minutes ago, she was wide awake now.

“No...” you say slowly, confused, “why would Mel not also be in there?” You peak over your shoulder to Melissa, giving her a look before your attention is back on your mother.

“So, you’re staying in the guest room? Or is Melissa?”

Your face screws up, “Neither of us? My room’s got a full, that’s fine for us.”

“No.”

“Hell you mean ‘no,’ Ma? Marcus and Kennedy are sharing a full, it’s not a huge deal,” you hear Melissa step down from the stairs, her shaky hand holding your elbow.

“Marcus and Kennedy are married, unlike you two. I know you live together, but my roof, my rules. You know that,” she says matter-of-factly. The other three people in the room pointedly avoid looking at you, not wanting to get on your mom’s bad side.

You argue back, “that’s fucking ridiculous, Ma. We are grown adults, in a relationship.” The arched brow on your mother’s face tells you that you shouldn’t be arguing, but she doesn’t know. She doesn’t know about the panic that is starting to eat away at Melissa’s veins at the sudden thought of sleeping without you, something she hasn’t done once in over three years now.

“No rings, two beds. Don’t think I won’t be checking.”

Not wanting to make more of a scene, Melissa tugs on your arm to gain your attention. Turning to her, you can see the silent plea in her eyes for you to give it up. Shoulders sagging, you let out a grumbled fine. Breaking away from her, you go to the kitchen and roughly pull the trash from the bin. It takes a great deal of effort to not slam the door as you stomp to the garage. When you come back in, you don’t bother saying anything to anyone, just wrapping an arm around Melissa to guide her upstairs.

When you get into your room, you shut the door and lean against it with a huff. The two of you silently change into your pajamas, moving slowly from exhaustion and an attempt to prolong your time together. Melissa turns away to fold her clothes on the bed, and you move to wrap your arms around her waist, propping your chin on her shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” you say, “I’ll stay in here tonight. Not like she can’t ground me anymore.”

Melissa turns in your arms, loosely wrapping her own around your shoulders, “it’s alright, I’ll be fine. I don’t want her mad at you for my sake.”

“Baby-”

“Don’t do that,” she says, though the sigh in her voice gives away her uncertainty, “I’ll be okay, amore.”

Your eyes scan over her face before you nod. Her arms pull you closer, noses brushing before she presses a sound kiss to your lips. Melissa’s arms shift and her hands cup your face, moving your head to press kisses to your cheeks, forehead, and chin, until the sour look on your face disappears.

Tugging her into you, you bury your head into her neck, pressing a long kiss there. From her neck you mumble, “I’ll be in the room right next door.”

“I’ll survive in the guest room, this is your bedroom,” she says, though she doesn’t fully mean it.

“What’s mine is yours. Plus, this one’s more comfortable, you’ll thank me later,” you hug her tighter, “so... I will be next door.”

“I told you, I’ll be fine,” she says. It’s more for her than you this time. Three years. Three years of falling asleep with you still awake beside her and waking up with you already looking at her.

You walk her back towards the bed, getting in with her, though not under the covers. With everyone, especially your mother, you don’t think it’ll hurt to stay until Melissa falls asleep. Her back presses to your front, hand holding yours to her chest, fast beating heart beneath. In a hushed voice, you speak about little things that don’t matter in hopes that it will calm her enough. Slowly her breath evens out, face burying into the pillow as it always does when you hold her like this.

Carefully, you detangle yourself from her and press a kiss to her hair, “I love you.” Stepping out of the room slowly, you leave the door cracked just a little and eye Melissa before turning. At the top of the stairs is your mother, brows raised.

“You better be going to your own bed,” she says quietly, though her tone is hard.

Rolling your eyes, you respond, “I am. Just had to make sure Melissa was asleep first.” You try to go into the room next door, but your mom’s face is silently asking for context, “she doesn’t sleep well. Different place, different sleeping arrangement, it’s difficult.”

You don’t particularly appreciate the dismissive way your mom just nods before walking towards the master bedroom, clearly thinking it was just an excuse, but it’s too late to fight about it. The sooner you sleep, the sooner you can wake up and crawl into bed with Melissa before she wakes. You watch the crack in the door and listen for Melissa until sleep comes over you.

—☽—

Something wakes you just past three in the morning, an ear splitting scream coming from next door. At first, you think it’s just your own anxiety, closing your eyes slowly. A second scream, this time of your name, and you’re springing out of bed, throwing the door open hard enough to bounce off the wall and slam shut. Four steps bring you to your childhood bedroom, rapidly swinging the door open to run in, not noticing the others joining you in the hall.

When you get into the room, moonlight illuminates Melissa where she’s sitting up with a hand gripping her shirt as she breathes in quick, panicked pants, eyes flying around the room until they land on you. Before she can even reach for you, you’re practically pouncing on the bed to get in front of her. Your hands go to her shoulders, her own gripping your forearms, her watery eyes darting around your face. Taking in deep breaths and letting them out slowly, you motion for Melissa to mimic you, trying to slow her rapid breath and heart.

Short gasps become slow, shaky breaths as panic begins to fade and tears form. A whimper of your name makes you pull her into you, her arms gripping your shirt and she cries into your neck. Between broken sobs, only the words window, knife, and everywhere and mention of a him come through, but you understood. This wasn’t the first time Eric’s actions haunted her at night, though it had been nearly two years since she’d woken up in a sweat.

Peeking over your shoulder, you see your parents and brother in the doorway. The look you give your mother is filled with anger and a raised brow that says I told you to listen. The clear fury makes your father pull her back towards their own room, pushing your brother to his. Some level of courtesy hits your mom, closing the door fully before she gets tugged away.

Attention back on Melissa, you alternate between playing with the ends of her hair and lightly dragging your nails over her back under her shirt. You tuck her hair behind her ear, tacky from tears, “you’re safe, Mel. Nothing and no one’s going to hurt you, I promise. I wouldn’t let them.”

Rocking side to side gently, you feel her breathing return to normal, body no longer shaking from tears. Trying not to jostle her, you turn your body to lay down with her, keeping her tucked into your neck with your arms around her. Pressing a kiss to her head, you slide an arm down to grab her hand, lacing your fingers together.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, just below your ear.

You squeeze her hand, “you never have to apologize for this. If anything, I’m the one that should be sorry. I should have stayed.”

She sniffled, “I’m a grown woman, I should be able to sleep alone.”

“And I should be able to stand up to my mother about sleeping in the same bed as my girlfriend, yet here we are,” you say jokingly, trying to lighten the mood.

Thankfully, she chuckles, the vibration on your skin making you smile, “so it’s all your fault.”

“I’ll gladly take the blame,” you mumble as you settle into the bed more, relaxing as you feel the redhead relax against you.

In a sudden move, Melissa props herself up over you, hair dangling in your face. Leaning down, she kisses your forehead, then each cheek, and finally your lips, long and loving. It’s a quiet thanks that she will never owe you.

“I love you,” she whispers.

“I love you more,” you whisper back.

It takes half an hour for sleep to creep back in, Melissa’s breathing growing slow where she rests on your chest, your heart beating under her ear. When she eventually falls back asleep against your chest, you stay awake and trace lines on her back. You’ll gladly stand guard if it means she sleeps peacefully, stay awake if it means she’s safe.

note: solaris write a fic under 3k like u planned challenge good lord man. also thank you thank you for the compliment, it’s an honor to be the first person u thought of to write this. i hope i did ur vision justice <3

as always, feedback appreciated <3

#melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti #lisa ann walter #abbott elementary #lgbtq fanfiction #lesbian #lgbtq

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1296-very-good-year · 1 month ago

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ACTUALLY I'm not done complaining about this... I'm still so mad.

All Jayce and Viktor wanted from the start was to give magic to everyone. It wasn't fair for magic to only be reserved for those lucky enough to be born with it.

Naturally, they were fought tooth and nail by the rich corrupt council who wanted it only for themselves. BUT they found an ally in Mel (a young politician who ALSO believed in this dream!!), who helped them gain the influence they needed to boot Heimerdinger from the council, and pass a motion for an independent Zaun to end the bloodshed and share the hexgates. They were about to achieve their dream, but it was too late - in part thanks to the mistakes they made along the way. A wonderful tragedy!

But then it turns out that no, their dream was doomed to fail from the beginning by stupid inevitable timeloop shit. Viktor always goes evil no matter the decisions they make with Hextech. They both "die" believing their dream was bad, actually. Maybe people don't deserve magic, and everything they worked towards their entire adult lives was wrong.

The best thing they can do to fix their mistakes is to KILL THEMSELVES alongside their creations. That's NOT a tragedy brought about by human flaws, it's just bullshit (especially if you believe the writers that Viktor was manipulated by the Hexcore the whole time?? So it wasn't even his fault??? Oh well, he has to die anyway????). And it retroactively ruins everything that made Season 1 great. All the little moments where characters make the exact wrong choice at the exact wrong moment to push things closer to disaster? Where we screamed at the TV knowing if they just did ONE thing differently it could have changed everything?

NO ACTUALLY, none of those choices even mattered! It was always going to end this way, fuck you for thinking about it!

And as a scientist... It's just the worst message to leave your audience with. If you are scared of GMO's or molecular physics or space travel because humans "shouldn't have that kind of power", then this is the show for you!! I'm mad.

#arcane critical #jayce talis #viktor arcane #mel medarda #Heimerdinger #hdjfkrkiejrhhdksks #i hate it i hate it i hate it the more i think about it i have to stoppppp #arcane season 1 #arcane season 2 #one thing that has improved is my opinion of mel from season 1 #im officially on her team #but only because of revisiting season 1 lmao #arcane meta

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lullabyes22-blog · 2 months ago

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Snippet - Doggerel - Forward but Never Forget/XOXO

Mel and Silco have it out...

tw: narcissistic abuse, blackmail, verbal abuse

Forward but Never Forget/XOXO

Snippet:

Confidential: State Files – Piltover & Zaun.

Memorandum of Encrypted Telephone Conversation

Subjects: Councilor Mel Medarda & First Chancellor Silco

Declassified and De-encrypted Under Authority of the Intra-agency Security Panel

E.P. 46732 Section 5. T(a)

Councilor Medarda: Silco?

First Chancellor Silco: Councilor. To what do I owe the pleasure?

Councilor Medarda: You may pleasure me by calling me Mel. As we agreed.

First Chancellor Silco: Mel, then.

Councilor Medarda: It's been difficult to get a hold of you as of late. I trust all's well?

First Chancellor Silco: You know it is.

Councilor Medarda: Violet? Jinx? Are they getting on?

First Chancellor Silco: Like a house on fire—with equal the collateral damage.

Councilor Medarda: I beg your pardon. Is that—a positive or a negative?

First Chancellor Silco: Depends on the collateral. The girls, themselves, are well. Violet fulfills her duties with diligence. Jinx performs hers with panache. I believe both will come into their full potential with time.

Councilor Medarda: They each possess exceptional talent.

First Chancellor Silco: And, between them, enough firepower for a battalion.

Councilor Medarda: I trust you are in jest.

First Chancellor Silco: No more than the usual amount.

Councilor Medarda: I'd enjoy it if that were so. And yet...

First Chancellor Silco: Oh, I know that tone. Speak plainly, my dear.

Councilor Medarda: There have been a great many temblors belowground. The most recent: quite nasty, by all accounts. Are you and your city holding up all right?

First Chancellor Silco: There are always quakes Down-Low. Zaun's buildings are designed accordingly. Their architectural resilience is well-proven.

Councilor Medarda: As I understand it, these quakes are not of the usual variety. And, forgive me, I do have an abiding interest in your welfare.

First Chancellor Silco: You have my word: I'm fine.

Councilor Medarda: And I know that tone. Are you so busy that the simple task of sending me a letter is an imposition? A call, now and again?

First Chancellor Silco: Time has a way of moving quickly here.

Councilor Medarda: Meaning what? Your clocks run differently? Or that you can't spare a moment for those beyond your fiefdom?

First Chancellor Silco: Zaun is not a fiefdom. It's a free city-state.

Councilor Medarda: As you've often reminded me, and at length. Still...

First Chancellor Silco: You've been listening to the doomsayers again, haven't you? Hoskel, Bolbok and their ilk. What are they saying now? That the Pilt will boil over? That the chem-seams will melt into hellfire? That the Fissures will swallow your city whole?

Councilor Medarda: No one's saying that. But Zaun does appear to be...flexing. As if stretching muscles long unused. And that concerns them.

First Chancellor Silco: Flexing? Like a fist?

Councilor Medarda: Or a prizefighter.

First Chancellor Silco: It's a doomed man who'd dare to blacken your lovely eye.

Councilor Medarda: I abhor it when you speak that way.

First Chancellor Silco: What? Your eyes are lovely...

Councilor Medarda: And you speak of blacking them with the same casualness as you'd mention spilling wine on my gown. Which, by the by, is not some demure shade of pastel.

First Chancellor Silco: Ooh, she's piqued.

Councilor Medarda: And she's not the only one. I've spoken to a number of our geological survey experts. They state that there've been quakes of this magnitude in the Fissures before. But the latest ones aren't some freak one-off. They are an entire seismic trend. As if a beast long dormant is rousing itself.

First Chancellor Silco: Or, put another way: Topside's been puttering along on the flat of the same note for so long that it's now spooked by a little rhythmic variance.

Councilor Medarda: Now there's a metaphor.

First Chancellor Silco: And if your Council, comfortable with the stagnant backbeat of same-old-same-old, are unsettled, what can I do? I don't control the tectonic plates, any more than I do the sea-currents.

Councilor Medarda: The way you've been going lately, that might be next.

First Chancellor Silco: What's the point of this call, Mel? It's late, even here. I've an early start tomorrow.

Councilor Medarda: I mean, simply, to ask whether you know anything.

First Chancellor Silco: Do I know what's causing the quakes?

Councilor Medarda: Yes.

First Chancellor Silco: If you'd like to see the reports of Zaun's geologists, I'll happily make them available. Though they'd give you the same reasons as myself.

Councilor Medarda: Namely?

First Chancellor Silco: That the Fissures are inconstant and mysterious. Always have been.

Councilor Medarda: A quality they share with their statesman.

First Chancellor Silco: Forgive me. Is that meant as a slight?

Councilor Medarda: Only when it is.

First Chancellor Silco: So: not yet.

Councilor Medarda: I'm only keeping my ear to the ground.

First Chancellor Silco: The ground—or my boudoir?

Councilor Medarda: That, I believe, is a slight.

First Chancellor Silco: Only when it is. Is this truly about a few shakes and rattles? Or is there a deeper inquiry you wish to make?

Councilor Medarda: The Safeguard Act passed by your Cabinet.

First Chancellor Silco: Ah. To the crux.

Councilor Medarda: Your last legislation placed a blanket ban on Shimmer abroad. The Safeguard Act has taken the same tack on the domestic front. It's made it an imprisonable offence to sell recreational Shimmer to Zaunites. It empowers blackguards to crack down on cartels, raid dens, seize shipments. It is even rumored that the Act has expanded their powers of arrest, such that they may enter a chem-baron's domicile without having obtained a writ.

First Chancellor Silco: And?

Councilor Medarda: And yet, even as your blackguards play avengers from on high, I'm told your private chem-refineries are running all-out. The mining of raw crystal for Shimmer distillates is up nearly twenty percent. The production of synthetic Shimmer serums is up thirty.

First Chancellor Silco: We are refocusing our internal resources.

Councilor Medarda: In preparation for war?

First Chancellor Silco: If we were, it's Zaun's prerogative to invest in defense.

Councilor Medarda: I mean a war of the commercial variety. A way to keep Piltover in thrall, without the dirty stigma of addiction itself.

First Chancellor Silco: We have been considering branching into medicinal Shimmer, if that's what you mean.

Councilor Medarda: I'd hoped you'd deny the rumors that you were looking to topple my city with the same poison that nearly sank yours.

First Chancellor Silco: I'm not in the habit of denying rumors.

Councilor Medarda: Because?

First Chancellor Silco: Oh, a number of reasons. Foremost, it gives credence to falsehoods. Second, it gives credence to the buffoons on your Council, who think their falsehoods are worthy of denial.

Councilor Medarda: So I'm a buffoon, now.

First Chancellor Silco: You must be, to believe to such twaddle.

Councilor Medarda: Then you are not ramping up synthetic Shimmer, in efforts of rebranding it as a health-enhancement tonic, to make it easier to push through our markets?

First Chancellor Silco: Oh, I am.

Councilor Medarda: ...

First Chancellor Silco: But, I am a man of my word. The drug's new formulation is a wonder, Mel. We're in the process of patenting it as we speak. It promotes cellular growth, without the nasty side-effects of its predecessor. The drug will be produced under my direct supervision, and distributed under strict license. It will be safe and well-regulated. Not to mention: revitalizing. I have it on good authority that your Councilors are interested in Zaun's budding chem-industry. In particular, the uppers and sexual enhancers.

Councilor Medarda: I don't know what you—

First Chancellor Silco: No? So Salo doesn't have a fondness for Pink Myst, which is a mild Shimmer inhalant, and good for shaking off that late-night languor that is an aristocrat's prerogative? So Hoskel isn't an impotency hypochondriac with a desperate need to keep his old soldier saluting? So Shoola's eldest isn't a full-blown addict, and she's not taken a hit from her own family's coffers to hire a chem-rehabilitation specialist for the boy's treatment?

Councilor Medarda: Do not speak of this. Under any circumstance. Do you understand? If these allegations were to come to light—

First Chancellor Silco: Allegations? These are facts. We both know it.

Councilor Medarda: What paths the Councilors do, on their own coin, holds no bearing on Zaun's domestic policy.

First Chancellor Silco: You think so?

Councilor Medarda: I think your domestic regulations are nothing more than a ruse to cut the legs out from under your chem-barons and seize the market for yourself. I think you will cannibalize their holdings to consolidate your foothold within Zaun's industrial firmament. I think your next step is to expand beyond your borders and transform Shimmer from a recreational stimulant to an essential medical commodity. A product you will leverage as a corporate sledgehammer, and force our most profitable industries into a stranglehold.

First Chancellor Silco: ...do go on.

Councilor Medarda: I've made my point. Now heed this: I will not let your drug into my city.

First Chancellor Silco: My dear, my drug is already in your city. I don't mean in an underhanded way. It's simply the inevitable flow of trade. Of supply, and demand. If I truly planned to cripple your industries in a chemical stranglehold, why bother with foreign or domestic reforms at all? I'd simply stop selling Shimmer: period.

Councilor Medarda: As if it were so simple. You and Shimmer are indelibly linked. To kill one is to kill the other. And you, as we both know, have no intention of dying. Not without dragging my city down with you.

First Chancellor Silco: I do abhor when you're so dramatic.

Councilor Medarda: Dramatic, am I?

First Chancellor Silco: And so, so wrong. I'd no sooner drag your city to the grave than I'd set my own on fire.

Councilor Medarda: Not unless you foresee the profit, yes?

First Chancellor Silco: Then perhaps we should consider that we are not quite so disparate in our goals.

Councilor Medarda: Or perhaps we should consider that I am tired of you using me to further yours! This is not what our partnership was meant for! Certainly not how I saw our cities' futures written in the firmament: with Shimmer through the backdoor, and poison in every Piltovan's bloodstream!

First Chancellor Silco: Poison? Who says?

Councilor Medarda: Every backalley chemist between here and Zaun. Shimmer is a scourge.

First Chancellor Silco: Only if misused.

Councilor Medarda: This was never part of your embargo, Silco. As per Zaun's legislation, you'd stem Shimmer's flow to Piltover in exchange for our non-interference in Viktor's repatriation. We formed the Joint Oversight Committee to supervise Zaun's transition away from the drug. We agreed to superintend Hextech's development on your soil, in exchange for no filth in ours.

First Chancellor Silco: And I am grateful for the show of faith.

Councilor Medarda: This is how you show gratitude? By placing me in the untenable position of having to defend my choice? Putting my city in the grip of a drug epidemic? Putting my own neck on the block, and the blade in your hand?

First Chancellor Silco: Mel...

Councilor Medarda: Do not Mel me! You're using my trust to get what you want. You've lied to me, time and again, in service to your own ends. The Hexcore was one thing. Viktor's kidnapping, quite another. But now Shimmer? On my doorstep, in the veins of my people? Do you imagine what the Council would do if they knew of my collusion in this?

First Chancellor Silco: It's the Council who stand to profit the most.

Councilor Medarda: What are you—?

First Chancellor Silco: As we speak, my representatives are reaching out to your colleagues. Not as officials, but as discreet, interested entrepreneurs. They have made Shimmer's new medicinal formulation available on a trial basis. If it is found efficacious, we will discuss a wholesale distribution agreement through Piltovan medical facilities. And, naturally, we'll extend you a significant discount as our valued trading partner. Not to mention a split in revenue for the privilege of—

Councilor Medarda: What is wrong with you?!

First Chancellor Silco: Excuse me?

Councilor Medarda: After everything that's passed between us? How could you betray my trust like that? To go behind my back and offer the Council what, in essence, amounts to a bribe?

First Chancellor Silco: Not a bribe. A bargain. You'll benefit the most out of all of them. House Medarda already has first-mover rights in Zaun's chem-tech market. Your investments will get a headstart on potential competitors. You will enjoy a guaranteed monopoly for five years. The revenue alone—

Councilor Medarda: I do not care a lick for revenue! Don't you see what you've done? My Council's been divided on Zaun's independence from the start! Some see the nation as a valuable ally. The rest would see it swallowed whole, in exchange for access to its natural resources. The offer you've extended will only exacerbate the divisions!

First Chancellor Silco: That's hardly my fault.

Councilor Medarda: It is when you extend the offer in a poisoned chalice!

First Chancellor Silco: Poison, or panacea?

Councilor Medarda: Do not turn this into a game of semantics! I demand to know: will you rescind the offer? Or must I set the margin of my influence to the flame?

First Chancellor Silco: Neither, I'm afraid, is possible.

Councilor Medarda: What?

First Chancellor Silco: The contracts are already signed. Salo and Shoola, for instance, have already forwarded preliminary funds to the designated accounts. They're awaiting the first shipments of Shimmer products, as are several other members of the Council. I was hoping you might assist in—

Councilor Medarda: No.

First Chancellor Silco: I beg your—

Councilor Medarda: Du Mißgeburt! Ich schneide dir deine gespaltene Zunge raus!

First Chancellor Silco: My word. I'd forgotten your command of the old tongue.

Councilor Medarda: You'll not forget my hand, either. Not after it's fed your severed balls through your mouth. Gods, how could you do this? How could you dare?

First Chancellor Silco: Mel...

Councilor Medarda: You've backed me into a corner, and now you expect me to stick the knife in myself!

First Chancellor Silco: I expect no such thing. I've no intention of endangering you. I am only—

Councilor Medarda: Only playing my Council like fools! As you're playing me, like some naif halfwit with stars in her eyes. I'm not a child, Silco. And I am certainly not your dupe. If you think I'm going to stand aside and let you bribe my Council into signing my city's fate over to a drug peddler, you are sadly mistaken.

First Chancellor Silco: You're a hypocrite, then.

Councilor Medarda: What did you—?

First Chancellor Silco: You heard me. You'll take everything else from my city—our manpower, our resources, our technological savvy—but you draw the line at a pharmaceutical breakthrough that could benefit both sides? What's the difference, Mel? What's the line that makes one thing acceptable in your eyes, and the other not?

Councilor Medarda: You are a criminal.

First Chancellor Silco: I've always been a criminal. From the moment I was born. From the moment I chose to scale my way out of the Sumps, and survive by the skin of my teeth. My entire life has been a crime. You know this. And yet you've defended me at every turn. Why do that, unless you're as much a criminal as I am?

Councilor Medarda: Because—

First Chancellor Silco: Because I am your dirty secret? Your backdoor liaison for keeping Zaun's treasures in your Council's pocket? For a little touch-and-go, when Talis is too busy pounding away in his gloomy smithy, and pining for his Tin-Man to pay attention to the flesh-and-blood woman who loves him? Is that why?

Councilor Medarda: If you do not drop Jayce from this conversation, I will—

First Chancellor Silco: You'll what? Hang up and retreat into your shining tower? Leave me, in the dark, to rot, as is the Topside way? Well, fuck that—and fuck you. It's fine when my economy's dependent on yours, and you're turning a ripe profit by proxy? Then suddenly I'm your go-to for cozy rendezvous by the Riverside? But the minute Zaun makes money-moves, and our industry threatens yours? Suddenly I'm a scumbag drug pusher and your morality comes out to shine? As if you weren't lapping my jism off your lips a month ago, and spreading your thighs wide for me to lick the cream right from your cunt?

Councilor Medarda: How dare you speak to me like that?

First Chancellor Silco: Oh, I dare. I dare, because someone needs to strike a match before those lovely eyes, so they're not dazzled by their own brilliance. You're no different than I am. Just prettier, wealthier, with a name that opens doors. And that name lets you hunt on an even playing field. Meanwhile I've been bred to hunt in the dark. But this relationship will go nowhere unless you can see past the differences, and accept me on equal footing.

Councilor Medarda: Ours is no relationship. It's an arrangement.

First Chancellor Silco: And every arrangement has a price.

Councilor Medarda: Are you...are you recording this? This conversation, are you—?

First Chancellor Silco: Do you truly believe I'd stoop that low?

Councilor Medarda: I've said things on this line I should never have said. Things that can be used against me, should they be made public. Things that could ruin my career, cost lives, set our cities against each other. I need to know. Is. This. Recorded?

First Chancellor Silco: No.

Councilor Medarda: Do not lie to me. Not about this.

First Chancellor Silco: Why should I lie when our every conversation's imprinted in my memory? When everytime you've visited belowground, I've committed you to mind: every curve, every caress, every cry? What secrets would I share with the Council, Mel? The time you bargained for Jayce's repatriation, then sank to your knees and unbuttoned my trousers as soon as I'd signed the release forms? Or the time, during the Icathian opera, you slipped into my private box, and rode my fingers until you sang an aria worthy of the mezzo-soprano? Or the time, after the trade delegation from Demacia agreed to a ten-year shipping treaty, you unbuttoned your blouse afterward, and took my cock between your breasts, and squeezed until I'd spilled myself all over them? How you licked every drop off with a smile? How you told me, afterward, that it was rare that filth made you feel cleaner than the hottest saltbath?

Councilor Medarda: How dare you how dare you how dare you—

First Chancellor Silco: And you told me that you trusted me. Remember?

Councilor Medarda: ...

First Chancellor Silco: So why should I lie when the truth of you is so plain?

Councilor Medarda: I will not hear this. I will not.

First Chancellor Silco: You never do, when it's the truth. But Mel... you've told me yours, time and again. About your family. Your childhood. Your self. You remember what you've said. I know you do.

Councilor Medarda: Stop.

First Chancellor Silco: You told me your parents had affairs by the score, infidelity upon infidelity, yet always slept in each other's arms at night. You told me Kino was Ambessa's favorite, but you were his, and when your mother learnt of it, she shipped him off to a war-campaign in the Ionian straits to keep you apart. You told me how your mother despised your tender heart. That she punished you for every tear with the back of her hand, until, by the age of twelve, your visage was as smooth as stone. You told me that after your first time in a man's bed, you bled so badly you had to hide your bedlinens for a week, because you were terrified that Ambessa would learn the truth. And when she did, she didn't beat you. Only banished you, not for the sin of falling in love, but for the fatal flaw of believing you could be loved in return. You told me Talis was the first man to make you believe otherwise. You told me you'd never even come to climax before he touched you: that you'd spent a decade of calculated, passionless sex in the company of men who saw you as a gilded ornament, rather than a person, with dreams beyond their ken. You told me that Talis changed all that. That he made you cry. Made you come. Made you see stars.

Councilor Medarda: I said stop.

First Chancellor Silco: You also told me he was inexperienced. That he'd had his share of trysts as the Man of Tomorrow. But never a woman as worldly as you. That, in the beginning, you'd had to teach him how to please you. That, for all his boldness in the lab, he was timid as a beau. But always so sincere. So eager to learn. So giving. So gentle.

Councilor Medarda: Please...

First Chancellor Silco: And you told me I was his opposite in all ways. The opposite of every man you'd known. That I knew I was a bastard, but I owned the epithet, and wore it like a crown. That when I touched you, you saw no stars, or fireworks, or any such romantic drivel. Because you were too jaded to pretend to such innocence. And yet, in my arms, you felt innocent again. You told me I was, in your words, the first man who'd made you feel as though you were flesh and blood, not glitter and gold. That there was power in the revelation; a resurrection so terrifying, so profound, that you felt you'd fall apart, if I didn't hold you fast. You told me I'd made you believe, not in love, but in yourself.

Councilor Medarda: ...

First Chancellor Silco: You've told me many secrets, Mel. I've kept them all.

Councilor Medarda: That does not excuse the way you spoke to me.

First Chancellor Silco: It does not. But does it excuse the way you spoke to me? The way you're so quick to dehumanize me? To make me into the monster who'll devour your city, rather than the man who seeks, only, to be its equal?

Councilor Medarda: You've used me. Used me as a pawn to further your ends.

First Chancellor Silco: And you've used me to secure yours. Only to insult me when I play real politics, as if I'm a footman on your payroll, who's dared to act out of turn. As if I haven't worked my whole life to escape this same servile fate. To be more than a body in the mines, or a grotesquerie at a carnival sideshow.

Councilor Medarda: I haven't used you—

First Chancellor Silco: You call me when it suits you, and hang up when it doesn't. You let me frig you off and suckle your cunt, but the moment I dare to open my mouth and say something you dislike, suddenly I'm a snake. Suddenly my tongue's a fork, and my touch is tainted, and you're threatening to sever my balls with your bare hands.

Councilor Medarda: You're using your position to threaten me!

First Chancellor Silco: I have no power to threaten. I have only what I've built, and I've built it with blood between my teeth, and blisters on my back, and the constant blade of death hanging over me. A blade your Council held for decades. So I am sorry if my tactics offend. But I do not work for you, and my life does not belong to you, and neither does my city. Either you accept that, and see me as an equal, flaws and fuckups included—or we end this farce right here and now.

Councilor Medarda: First extortion, now you seek to muzzle me?

First Chancellor Silco: If you're muzzled, Mel, then I'm leashed. And we both obey one mistress: progress.

Councilor Medarda: ...

First Chancellor Silco: I know you're upset that I bypassed you. I know you are the Council's crown jewel, and the rest are simply stones in your diadem. I know I should have spoken to you first. But I had reason not to. Reason to suspect you’d react badly. Shimmer's not a name that goes down easy on Topside. Especially in your Council's chambers. Except their bedchambers are already lined with our drugs. They've been using them, and abusing them, for years. I'd have made no headway, if I hadn't appealed to their basest cravings.

Councilor Medarda: That does not excuse your actions. Nor does it change my mind.

First Chancellor Silco: This is not a zero-sum game, Mel. I am not out to get you. I am only out to get what's mine, and what's mine by right. Zaun's future rests upon its chem industry. To ensure the self-sufficiency of my nation, we must expand.

Councilor Medarda: To Piltover?

First Chancellor Silco: That's only a step on the path. I've no plans oversaturate the markets with medicinal Shimmer, such that knock-offs of my serum become the vogue. I'll ensure the quality remains consistent and the supply is tightly regulated.

Councilor Medarda: For how long?

First Chancellor Silco: A decade. Enough to recoup the revenue lost from our cartels. Then it'll all be yours to use as you see fit.

Councilor Medarda: You mean—

First Chancellor Silco: I'll release my patents. Your chemists will have full access to the drug's formulae. And the freedom to manufacture at their discretion.

Councilor Medarda: I will not have my name besmirched. And I will not have my Council beholden to you. If that is the cost of your independence, I'll be glad to pay it, but I won't have my city suffer the price.

First Chancellor Silco: Your city will not suffer, Mel. You have my word. Piltover will flourish.

Councilor Medarda: That is a bold claim.

First Chancellor Silco: Made in earnest. The question is: do you believe it? Or do we make a foe of each other?

Councilor Medarda: Between these choices, I have none.

First Chancellor Silco: That's what you don't understand, Mel. Neither do I. We've both done things that run contrary to our natures. But we are where we're meant to be. Our nations are where they're meant to be. Let us simply accept that, and work together to build something lasting. Something greater than the sum of our pasts.

Councilor Medarda: If your synthetic serum is as efficacious as you say...

First Chancellor Silco: I'd not have spent millions in its development if I were unsure.

Councilor Medarda: I'll have our medical facilities perform a thorough assessment.

First Chancellor Silco: That can be arranged.

Councilor Medarda: It must pass muster. If it's anything but foolproof, it won't see the light of day.

First Chancellor Silco: Understood. But when it's approved—as I'm certain it will be—I'd like to discuss distribution channels. We have several options in the works, but there's a few that stand out. The Hexgates, for instance—

Councilor Medarda: I believe you've done quite enough discussing. Particularly with my colleagues. You may now conduct all official correspondence with my office. And with me, personally. That is the condition under which I'll sign.

First Chancellor Silco: Acceptable.

Councilor Medarda: I expect to be looped into your plans from this day forward. In full. Is that clear?

First Chancellor Silco: Perfectly.

Councilor Medarda: Why is the smile in your voice so evident?

First Chancellor Silco: You can hear my smiles now? I'll need to be careful.

Councilor Medarda: You're a scoundrel.

First Chancellor Silco: From you, that's the closest I'll get to an accolade. Well, second-closest. I've had others.

Councilor Medarda: Viler still.

First Chancellor Silco: I much prefer when you're being vile. The way you lash out when you're cornered. Like a feral beast. I half-believed you'd bite my face off through the line.

Councilor Medarda: Don't call me a beast.

First Chancellor Silco: No, that's no fair comparison, is it? A beast's a simple thing, driven by simple needs. You? You're as complex as they come.

Councilor Medarda: Do not try to flatter me, either.

First Chancellor Silco: Is it not working?

Councilor Medarda: No in the least.

First Chancellor Silco: And yet I hear the catch in your voice…

Councilor Medarda: And I hear the falsehood in yours. So we're even.

First Chancellor Silco: Ever so. And yet I cannot help but wish that the fates were kinder. That the distance between our cities wasn't so wide, and the waters not so cold….

Councilor Medarda: I'll thank you to stop waxing poetic.

First Chancellor Silco: Why?

Councilor Medarda: Poetry is the province of lovers. You've made plain the bedrock of our bond is blackmail.

First Chancellor Silco: If you'd prefer, I can skip to the verse about your breasts?

Councilor Medarda: Do you even grasp the gravity of this discussion?

First Chancellor Silco: Are we speaking of our cities, or your tits?

Councilor Medarda: Silco.

First Chancellor Silco: What?

Councilor Medarda: Do not do this again. I warn you. Do not go behind my back. Do not jeopardize my life's work. Zaun is your home. Whatever privations you've endured, nobody can take that from you. Nobody can deny your birthright. But Piltover is mine by choice. The only choice I've left to make. But it's not a city of welcome mat and warm hearth. I've had to prove myself, again and again, as more than a warmonger's leavings. More than some empty-headed beauty, whose only value is in the gowns she wears, and the men who wish to peel them off her. I've fought for my seat at the Council table, tooth and nail. I've won their respect through guile and grit. Every day, I wake and I face the same gauntlet. And I endure it. For Piltover. For progress. I will not have that legacy tarnished by your indiscretions. Is that understood?

First Chancellor Silco: Mel...

Councilor Medarda: I mean it. Swear to me.

First Chancellor Silco: Answer me this, first. Is tarnish so terrible?

Councilor Medarda: It is, for a city that prides itself on polish.

First Chancellor Silco: I see.

Councilor Medarda: And I—I confess, I envy that about Zaun. That, despite everything, it's most compelling at its rawest. It's a city of open wounds and weeping sores. And yet it dares to flaunt them. Unflinching. Unashamed. As you are. I wish I had that conviction. That courage.

First Chancellor Silco: Oh, you're plenty courageous.

Councilor Medarda: Am I? To me, it often feels as if I've lived a lie.

First Chancellor Silco: Because you were not born of the city you love? Or because the birthright you should love, you disowned?

Councilor Medarda: A bit of both. From the start, I've felt like a stranger in my own skin. As if I were a changeling, and the real me was elsewhere. The closest I came to finding her was here. In Piltover. And yet, I remain the foreigner on her shores. For the public, a Councilor. Always on a pedestal. Always beyond reach. In private, the exotic emigree. To be admired, and envied, and desired. But never embraced. Never...

First Chancellor Silco: Never loved?

Councilor Medarda: Not in the way that I've...always longed for.

First Chancellor Silco: Who among us has been?

Councilor Medarda: Then you understand? In the eyes of Piltover, I must remain pristine. Be a reflection of their expectations. A symbol, not a soul. Otherwise symbols are torn down. And if I fall from grace, then all I've worked toward falls with me. And I—I cannot let that happen. Do you understand?

First Chancellor Silco: I do. But... Mel?

Councilor Medarda: Yes?

First Chancellor Silco: The fall from grace isn't fatal.

Councilor Medarda: It is, if your city soars as high as mine.

First Chancellor Silco: And if a city sinks to the depths like mine?

Councilor Medarda: Then there is nowhere to go but up. Isn't that why you're fighting?

First Chancellor Silco: ...

Councilor Medarda: You're not the only one who listens, Silco. I've kept your secrets, too. Your ambitions, and your insecurities. The nights you'll call because you're too wired to sleep, and have made the mistake of looking into the mirror, and seen your own mortality staring back. The mornings you're too impatient to return my calls, because your nightmares have yielded a glimpse of the future, except it reads like a reckoning. The evenings you'll ring me up, only to end the call halfway through our chat, because your daughter's come in and kissed you on the cheek, and suddenly the warmth of my voice is a pale echo in comparison. You're a man of a hundred masks. But a man all the same.

First Chancellor Silco: Mel...

Councilor Medarda: And I'd have that man swear he'll not endanger our work. Swear he'll not play me false. Swear, on the future of his city, that he'll not risk mine.

First Chancellor Silco: I swear.

Councilor Medarda: Then I shall do the same.

First Chancellor Silco: Thank you.

Councilor Medarda: I'll look over the contracts. If I think they're worth the ink it takes to sign them, I'll see that funds are procured from the rest of the Council. But the moment I sense a foul wind blowing from Zaun, it's over. Do you hear?

First Chancellor Silco: Loud as the hammer in the forge. By the by: how's Talis? His sabbatical's nearly at an end.

Councilor Medarda: He is... keeping busy. He plans to travel.

First Chancellor Silco: Where to?

Councilor Medarda: To the Shuriman plains. Somewhere he visited, long ago, with his family. He says it's to broaden his mind, acquire the distance necessary to reevaluate his contributions to Piltover. I suspect it's a quarter-life crisis, precipitated by Viktor's departure, and Heimerdinger's death.

First Chancellor Silco: He'll take proper security measures, I trust?

Councilor Medarda: This is Jayce we're talking about. Security measures are not his forte.

First Chancellor Silco: I'd suggest a bodyguard. Or five.

Councilor Medarda: I've already seen to it.

First Chancellor Silco: And I'll see to it that my network keeps a weather eye out. Should he stumble into dangerous terrain, I'll have the information relayed to you.

Councilor Medarda: You have a keen eye for dangerous terrain, Silco. And I... I thank you for watching over him.

First Chancellor Silco: That was why we bargained, did we not? Your lover for my daughter.

Councilor Medarda: You didn't barter for him. You bargained to keep Jinx out of harm's way. And, in doing so, you saved my heart. I won't forget that.

First Chancellor Silco: You still love him, don't you? Despite everything.

Councilor Medarda: ...

First Chancellor Silco: Do not answer if you do not wish to.

Councilor Medarda: No, it... it's true. Despite the hurt, and the heartbreak. Despite the way he looks at me, sometimes, as if he's seeing past the mirage into the flawed and frightened girl beneath. Despite the fact that he's a flawed and foolish boy, who can only love with the whole of his soul, or none at all. Despite his pride, and his pig-headedness, and the times when he makes me want to throttle him. Yes, I still love him.

First Chancellor Silco: It must be difficult, given how often your star-crossed paths collide.

Councilor Medarda: It isn't the collision I mind. It's the aftermath. The sense of a distance growing between the lines. As it does, when lovers part. I wish I could say the right thing, to heal the wounds left by the Siege. I wish I could find a way to bring him home. Not to me. To himself. But I think, when a man's touched the sky, even the most shining city can begin to feel like a cage.

First Chancellor Silco: Not the sun at its heart, surely?

Councilor Medarda: You refer to me?

First Chancellor Silco: Who else?

Councilor Medarda: He's not beholden to me, Silco.

First Chancellor Silco: But he's certainly bound to you. By gravity, if nothing else.

Councilor Medarda: And what is it that binds you? Besides this blood-bargain we've struck to keep him safe?

First Chancellor Silco: If I said: progress, would that suffice? You've already made plain your distaste when I wax poetic.

Councilor Medarda: My disdain's for your doggerel. And, if you must know, its delivery.

First Chancellor Silco: Too wooden?

Councilor Medarda: The opposite: too practiced.

First Chancellor Silco: Ah.

Councilor Medarda: You've a flair for words, Silco, but a paucity of passion. You speak with gravity. But there are more fundamental forces at play between souls. It is not the gravity of a star that makes the galaxies dance. It's the fire at its core. The fury. The fission. The fusion.

First Chancellor Silco: Ooh, you're positively scalding tonight…

Councilor Medarda: I just mean—I like it best when you're sincere. When you cut to the quick of a conversation, and not around the edges. When you spin, not a ruse, but a revelation. A truth that hits hard, and hurts. But hurts so beautifully.

First Chancellor Silco: Like when I've got three fingers in your wet little cunt, and you're begging me to let you come?

Councilor Medarda: ...

First Chancellor Silco: Because if that's the candor I'm supposed to be cultivating, I'll have to take you to task, next we meet.

Councilor Medarda: That's not—

First Chancellor Silco: The sort of sincerity you crave? I believe it is, Mel. It's why we work so well together. In business and out of it. I sell the bitter truths, you the sweet lies. And between us, we're the only ones who know when we're buying the other's wares.

Councilor Medarda: This... this is not a transaction.

First Chancellor Silco: I thought it was. That's what you said, at any rat. An arrangement. One where we each make good on what we owe.

Councilor Medarda: If so, we're both in arrears.

First Chancellor Silco: Then perhaps you'll consider this an overdue payment. Are you free next week?

Councilor Medarda: Next week?

First Chancellor Silco: There's a press junket for Zaun's Shimmer-fed agrifarms, and the Hex-hydroponics your city's funded. We'll be doing a ribbon-cutting ceremony, and showcasing the newest Shimmer formulae. They're not ready for distribution yet, but there's enough interest to warrant a sneak-preview. I'd like you to be there. For the optics, yes. But also because I want your opinion on the final product. I've had my labs running non-stop to make these drugs top-notch. I trust no one's judgment like my own. Except yours.

Councilor Medarda: I'm flattered.

First Chancellor Silco: You needn't be. This is straightforward business. You'll see the product firsthand, and I'll have your feedback to guide the final stages of production.

Councilor Medarda: That's it? I'm to offer my feedback, and be on my way?

First Chancellor Silco: With a few hours elsewhere, if it pleases.

Councilor Medarda: Pleases whom?

First Chancellor Silco: Myself, invariably. You? That depends on your willingness.

Councilor Medarda: To do what, pray tell?

First Chancellor Silco: Now you're playing coy. I'd rather show than tell. Unless you'd rather have me tell than show?

Councilor Medarda: Neither. Until we're done with the contracts. Then I'll be free to... entertain the notion.

First Chancellor Silco: So formal. So frigid. So Piltovan. But beneath it all, that Noxian blood runs hot. I do look forward to warming myself in the glow.

Councilor Medarda: As I look forward to keeping you at arms' length. You've quite tested my patience today. And my trust.

First Chancellor Silco: Whereas my trust in you's not shaken in the least. You'll do right by our cities, Mel. You always do.

Councilor Medarda: I wish that were so. I wish I had from the start. Then maybe I wouldn't have—

First Chancellor Silco: What?

Councilor Medarda: Nothing.

First Chancellor Silco: You can tell me, Mel. Or I can guess. You mean Talis, don't you? You two wouldn't have fallen out. He wouldn't have left the Council. Wouldn't have broken his heart, and your own. You wouldn't have picked up the pieces, and found yourself here, having to bargain for his safety, with a brute like me.

Councilor Medarda: That's not what I was going to say.

First Chancellor Silco: No?

Councilor Medarda: I—I want to tell you. But I know that if I do, you'll leverage it against me. Take me to task. Or hold me to ransom.

First Chancellor Silco: I'd never take you to task, Mel. But I can think of plenty other places I'd take you, if you're game.

Councilor Medarda: Silco. Please.

First Chancellor Silco: I'm listening, Mel. I swear, I am.

Councilor Medarda: I only meant to say... I miss Jayce. I do. But not as much, lately. Not like I used to.

First Chancellor Silco: That's good, isn't it? A little breathing room, so the sores don't fester.

Councilor Medarda: There are times when I'd still welcome the festering. If it meant dreaming of him. Dreaming of... being loved. In that way. Seeing the stars, and feeling as if my soul could sing. But lately...

First Chancellor Silco: Lately?

Councilor Medarda: Do you know how it feels when a fever breaks? When you've sweated through the night, and your bedsheets are drenched, and the world is spinning darkly. But your head's a little clearer. You're a little stronger. A little surer. A little closer to yourself.

First Chancellor Silco: I do.

Councilor Medarda: I've had the chills, since that night. The Siege. When I saw my worst nightmares come to life. War, at my doorstep. And the man I loved, broken by the same demons that have haunted me for years. But lately... it feels as though the fever's broken. As if the air is lighter, and my steps are steadier. And if the stars no longer shine as bright, I don't mind. Because the darkness no longer daunts me.

First Chancellor Silco: Because you hold a candle in your heart?

Councilor Medarda: Because I've a companion who walks with me. Who knows what shadows to cross, and where to steer clear.

First Chancellor Silco: ...

Councilor Medarda: What I mean to say—

First Chancellor Silco: You needn't say anything, Mel.

Councilor Medarda: The smile's gone from your voice.

First Chancellor Silco: Because the call's coming to an end.

Councilor Medarda: Silco—

First Chancellor Silco: Before you say anything else you believe I'll leverage against you.

Councilor Medarda: That's not—

First Chancellor Silco: I'll give you a chance to take it back. Or, rather, to leave it unsaid. But, Mel?

Councilor Medarda: Yes?

First Chancellor Silco: Thank you. For sharing that with me. For trusting me, when I deserve no such trust. And for being honest. With me, and with yourself. I wish—well. I wish a lot of things. But know one thing. There's no perfect endings in this world, much less perfect beginnings. Only perfect moments, if we're smart. If we're blessed. If we're brave.

Councilor Medarda: I think we could be brave. If... if we tried.

First Chancellor Silco: And is that something you want?

Councilor Medarda: ...

First Chancellor Silco: Maybe for a night. Or a week. Or a year. But you'd be a fool to want it forever.

Councilor Medarda: You're wrong.

First Chancellor Silco: I'm not. If anything, it's a mercy that we're a river's-width apart. You with your stars, and me with my shadows. It's better this way. Safer.

Councilor Medarda: Why, after everything, are you so resigned? Why, when you fight for everything, won't you fight for us? Even if only for a night. A week. A year. Isn't that worth it, if a perfect moment's all that lasts?

First Chancellor Silco: Because I know what happens when that moment ends.

Councilor Medarda: Is this one of your double-entendres?

First Chancellor Silco: If it were, I'd not be saying the words, but showing them. With a hand on your breast, and another between your legs. But since we've only words, allow me to speak them plainly. When a perfect moment ends, the pain of its ending is a thousandfold. Especially if you've been granted a glimpse of what could be. But never what will.

Councilor Medarda: And you've had such moments, have you?

First Chancellor Silco: Haven't we both?

Councilor Medarda: ...

First Chancellor Silco: This, between us, will always be ours, Mel. No matter what. But anything beyond? Anything more than stolen hours, and secret trysts? It'd end, like all things. In ruin.

Councilor Medarda: You're a fortune-teller now?

First Chancellor Silco: Just an old hand at hard-luck draws, and bad-luck deals. And this? This is neither. This is a blood game, and one we must play o win. We cannot afford the alternative. Neither Zaun nor Piltover can.

Councilor Medarda: Is that all we are? A risky indulgence? A pair of high-rollers, betting on the odds?

First Chancellor Silco: We are. And the safest bet is a sure one.

Councilor Medarda: Then you're a coward, Schatz.

First Chancellor Silco: Who's Schatz?

Councilor Medarda: You are. A treasure determined to bury himself in the deepest pits. And to hell with what's left in his wake.

First Chancellor Silco: What's left in my wake will be a strong city. My daughter, grown. Her future, secure. And you? Gilded in gold, with the stars shining bright, and your happiness in the palm of your hands. And you'll thank me for it, before the end.

Councilor Medarda: Or curse you for denying me the choice.

First Chancellor Silco: I'm not the one who'll deny it. The world's done that, and more, since before we were born.

Councilor Medarda: It saddens me that a man who'd defy the very laws of physics refuses to break the rules that bind his heart.

First Chancellor Silco: And it saddens me, that you'd believe hearts are meant for binding—and not breaking.

Councilor Medarda: Back to the doggerel, I see.

First Chancellor Silco: Mel. Let's not push this matter further. We have our bargain, and we have each other's backs. It's enough. It has to be.

Councilor Medarda: As you say, First Chancellor. But you'll excuse me if I reserve the right to disagree.

First Chancellor Silco: You can call me the other name, if it makes a difference.

Councilor Medarda: Schatz.

First Chancellor Silco: Hmm.

Councilor Medarda: You like the sound of it. I can hear the smile in your voice.

First Chancellor Silco: I wish I'd something to give in return.

Councilor Medarda: A kiss, for a start.

First Chancellor Silco: I'd give you more than that.

Councilor Medarda: More than an hour? Two hours, perhaps? A night?

First Chancellor Silco: And then some. But a night is not in the cards. Not yet.

Councilor Medarda: When?

First Chancellor Silco: When it's safe for us to risk more.

Councilor Medarda: And lose twice as much.

First Chancellor Silco: ...

First Chancellor Silco: And I'd thought you a diplomat.

Councilor Medarda: As I'd thought you a businessman. But we are, both of us, fools.

First Chancellor Silco: So it seems.

Councilor Medarda: I've missed you, Silco. I've missed our talks, even if they're too brief, and we're both far too clever for our own good. I've missed someone challenging me, and arguing with me, and not placing me on a pedestal of reverence. I've missed—I've missed us. Being us. Whatever that means.

First Chancellor Silco: It means whatever we wish it to. As long as we wish it so.

Councilor Medarda: ... I wish you were here. I wish I could—you said it was a mercy that we're a river's-width apart. Well, I wish it were a river of fire. Then we'd be forced to leap, and damn the consequences. Damn the Council, and our cities, and the world. They'd not last a day without us. And yet here we are, sacrificing our dreams on their altar. It's madness, Silco. We're fools, but not for believing in each other. For not daring to.

First Chancellor Silco: Mel. My treasure. Don't say another word. Please.

Councilor Medarda: Treasure, am I?

First Chancellor Silco: In a sea full of pearls, and diamonds, and gems, you'd still outshine them all.

Councilor Medarda: More doggerel.

First Chancellor Silco: Not when it's true.

Councilor Medarda: As true as this: I'll always love Jayce. Always. But tonight, I'll dream of the dark. And in that dark, I'll hear my name whispered. It will be soft, and smoky, like a whiskey-waft on a winter's eve. I'll see a single eye, the color of a bad moon. And it won't be Jayce's, but yours. You'll kiss me, and I'll taste no heartbreak. Only hunger without end. You'll touch me, and it won't be a fever, but a fusion. Your lips, my breasts. My breath, your skin. My moans, your name. Then you'll spread my legs, and fill me. And for a moment, the stars won't be enough. The galaxy won't be enough. All I'll want is the darkness. All I'll crave is more.

First Chancellor Silco: ...

Councilor Medarda: Are you still there?

First Chancellor Silco: Yes, and you're killing me.

Councilor Medarda: Is my fantasy such a dagger in your heart?

First Chancellor Silco: It's a bullet through my brain. It's the death of my will, and the birth of my ruin.

Councilor Medarda: What, pray tell, is the alternative?

First Chancellor Silco: To give you all that, doggerel be damned. To have you, and hold you, and fuck you. To watch the stars wink out of your eyes as I make you come.

Councilor Medarda: ...

First Chancellor Silco: Mel?

Councilor Medarda: Good night, Silco. Before—either of us forgets to be fools, and dares to be brave.

First Chancellor Silco: Wait, you can't just—

Councilor Medarda: I'll see you next week. At the press junket.

First Chancellor Silco: Oh, you will. I guarantee it.

Councilor Medarda: Is that a threat?

First Chancellor Silco: I don't threaten. I settle the score. Best come prepared, Councilor. You won't get off easy.

Councilor Medarda: But I'll certainly enjoy getting off.

First Chancellor Silco: Sweet little slut.

Councilor Medarda: Until next week. Good night, mein Schatz. Schlaf schön.

First Chancellor Silco: Sweet dreams, Mel. Du wirst mir fehlen während du schläfst.

Councilor Medarda: Mmm. That's the delivery I want.

First Chancellor Silco: You'll get plenty more, when we meet.

Councilor Medarda: Hang up?

First Chancellor Silco: On the count of three.

Councilor Medarda: Eins…

First Chancellor Silco: Zwei…

Councilor Medarda: Drei—

[END MEMORANDUM]

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spoilmesweetieforficssake · 10 months ago

Note

hi hi hi!! I love your fics so much and i don't know if you're still taking requests but if you are could you write a Melissa x reader where the reader is madly in love with Melissa and everyone kind of knows except for Mel. And when Mel starts flirting with Gary reader starts going on random dates to try and get over Mel, but Mel gets jealous and hates every person that reader tries to date. And their friendship gets all angsty but they of course end up happily together and everyone at Abbott is like "finally took you two long enough"

I feel like saying this has taken forever isn't actually an exaggeration - but better late than never! I hope after all this time that this is at least close to what you were looking for. I admit though, I got a bit indecisive with the ending, so there are actually two and you can pick which you prefer.!

Melissa and Gary are a thing, and you hate it. Worse, you hate that you hate it. You want to be happy for her, you really do, but you can’t help the way your heart clenches painfully every time you hear her talk about what she and Gary are doing together, or apparently the nausea that comes with seeing them together.

Still, you weren’t raised without manners and in love with your friend though you may be, you are Melissa’s friend first and foremost. So you slap on a smile and endure the looks of sympathy from your colleagues.

When you start to distance yourself it’s not because you don’t want to spend time with the redhead, but as an act of self-preservation. Your little Abbott family, who were annoyingly quick to pick up on the fact you were in love with the red head, are also quick to pick up on the shift.

Barb is the first to say something out loud, offering to set you up with a nice girl she knows. It’s unexpected and takes you by surprise. “Thanks, Barb. It’s really sweet of you but I’m not looking for anything serious just now.”

You miss the daggers being aimed at the kindergarten teacher behind your head and in making a break for the coffee machine you also miss the older woman’s raised eyebrow in response to a certain red head.

“So, how many matches did we get?” asks Jacob like it’s some kind of team game, as he comes into the break room to find you on your phone.

It had been games night the night before, but the board game had ended up set aside and Jacob and Janine got you set up on Tinder. Melissa suddenly becomes very interested in your phone screen over your shoulder.

“You really think you need an app to get a date?”

“Well we can’t all have our other halves roll in with our favourite drinks, can we?” you quip, ignoring her jibe. You keep your eyes on your phone, all too aware of the silence that has fallen over the breakroom at your comment.

You jump as Melissa suddenly leans over your shoulder, swiping at your screen.

“She’s too old for you.”

You turn to look at the red head with a raised eyebrow. “Actually, I set the age range myself, so she’d have been just the right age.”

She huffs and you turn back to your phone, and if you swipe with a little more vigour than before, well, it’s certainly not to prove a point.

You manage to set up a couple of dates via the app, but they’re terrible. What you hoped could be a chance to blow of a little steam ends of being up being a few awkward drinks with people who are more interested in their image and talking about themselves than anything else.

Not that you tell that to Melissa. No, as far as she’s aware the string of dates you’ve on have been great.

“Yeah, that’s why you keep going on new ones,” she quips one day.

“I didn’t say I planned on marrying these people,” you huff. “But it’s not illegal to want a little fun!”

Melissa snorts. “You’re not that shallow,” she smirks as she passes you on her way out of the room.

You lay your head on the table, groaning.

“Those dates that bad, huh?”

Your head flies up at the words, eyes wide as you take in Ava pouring a liberal amount of sugar into her coffee. Had she been there the whole time? “They’ve not been great,” you admit. “I don’t tend to well on dates when I’ve never really met the person, never mind barely messaged them,” you admit.

Ava cocks her head to the side. “You let Tweedledumb and Tweedleditzy set up that account, didn’t you?”

You nod, not quite sure where she’s going with this.

“Yeah, you ain’t gonna get dates who just want to do the dirty and not expect breakfast in the morning with something they set up.” She slides into the seat opposite you and holds out her hand. “I can fix that. Gimme your phone.”

She rolls her eyes as you flinch back. “You know what? Forget that stupid app. I’ll get you a date. You’ll love this one. Trust me.”

You’re not entirely convinced you do as she waggles her eyebrows playfully at you, but surely anything has to be better than the dates you’ve recently been on?

You walk in to the bar and for a moment you think that Ava has somehow set you up with Melissa. The red hair catches you attention first, the feminine curves a quick second, but then you realise the hair is not quite the right colour, the curves less pronounced. The description of the outfit matches though so after taking a moment to compose yourself, you make your way over and say hi.

Blue eyes meet yours as she stands and the woman takes a moment to look you up and down as you squirm under the attention. How people can do anything other than blush and stutter under the scrutiny of a beautiful woman you’re not sure. One thing you do know though, is that this woman is indeed beautiful.

“Ava said you might be a little nervous, so got you a drink.”

You thank her, taking a sip only to realise that Ava must have also told the woman what you drank. Your second sip turns more into a gulp as you proceed to down the drink. “Sorry,” you say sheepishly. “Could at least have asked your name before I downed the drink you bought me.”

She smiles at your embarrassment, extending a hand. “Joanne,” she offers. “Jo, if I decide I like you.”

“Here’s hoping,” you smile back, shaking the offered hand.

It’s going well, you realise. The conversation is flowing between you and can’t deny she’s attractive. She seems to like what she sees too if her flirting and casual touches are anything to go by. There’s just one problem. There’s another red head on your mind and you can’t help but compare the two.

Joanne seems to feel your hesitancy. “It’s fine,” she says, her smile turning gentle as she places a hand on your arm. “Ava suggested you might be a little emotionally unavailable, but it’s been a while since I had a date with a cute girl, so I figured what’s the harm?”

“Sorry,” you say, ducking your head.

“Don’t be,” smiles the red head. “Look, we’re here, why don’t you tell me what’s going on?”

“You don’t deserve that,” you say, shaking your head.

Joanne merely smirks. “You’re buying the drinks.”

There’s something about her easy manner that puts you at ease. You look up at her, waiting patiently for you to speak. Ava had clearly told her more than your favourite tipple.

“What’s her name?” she asks.

You feel your cheeks heat up. Here you are, sitting on a date with a beautiful, interesting, apparently endlessly patient woman, and she’s asking about her. “Melissa,” you say in all but a whisper.

“Let me guess,” smirks the other woman. “Red head, my kinda age?”

Your blush only deepens.

Joanne chuckles. “Ava ain’t subtle, honey. But you know you gotta move on before your little heart breaks even more.”

The hand that had been resting on your arm moves to cup your cheek as she leans in to kiss you. It’s nice. It’s really nice. And for a moment, you find you’re not thinking about Melissa.

“Well fuck,” sighs Melissa, halting in her steps. She stands, unable to look away as she sees you in the bar, clearly on a date. For a moment, she’s not sure what to do. She had been on her way to your apartment, but she can hardly interrupt your night now. “What a shitty end to a shitty night,” she breathes, stuffing her hands into her jacket pockets as she turns on her heel and heads home, her steps much less determined than they had been.

When Monday rolls around you’re in a better mood than you’ve been in a while. To your surprise, you actually enjoyed Ava’s date. She was good company, and after you were honest with her, it turned out she was also rather good at giving advice. The advice being that you should be the friend you’ve always been to Melissa, after all, it’s not the red head’s fault you fell in love with her. The kissing and light making out was just a bonus, really. A little fun never hurt, after all.

Melissa, however, isn’t quite so bright come Monday. She’s quiet, distracted and when you finally ask what’s wrong at lunch, she just shakes her head and leaves the room. You look to Barb, hoping she’ll take pity and at least cast a little light on the situation.

“She and Gary broke up,” she tells you quietly, her voice low to keep the other’s from hearing.

“Oh,” you breathe. You’re not quite sure what to say to that.

At the end of the day, you look up from your tidying to find Melissa loitering in your doorway. “Hey,” you say by way of greeting. “Barb told me,” you tell her, offering a sad smile. “Sorry to hear.”

She shrugs. “I think I knew it was coming…just, didn’t expect it to happen the way it did.”

You watch as she comes to sit on the edge of your desk. “Saw you out on your date on Saturday. Was actually on my way to yours.”

“Oh,” you say, your cheeks heating up. “Yeah, Ava set me up. She was great but we’re not taking it any further. Or at least, it’s nothing serious.”

“But you looked like you were having a good time, and she…”

You shake your head. “I was…it was…Gary’s an ass by the way, for leaving you,” is what finally comes out.

“Actually, Gary isn’t an ass” she sighs. “Gary called it quits because he asked me if I’d ever say yes if he asked me the question…and I told him I couldn’t.” She drops her gaze, hanging her head. “He knew it wasn’t just my past that meant I couldn’t say yes. He knew my heart wasn’t in it…”

You start putting two and two together and getting dangerously close to four. Gary broke up with Melissa because she wouldn’t say yes to that question. Because her heart wasn’t in it.

“Why did Ava set you up with that woman?” asks Melissa, still not looking up.

Unable to properly see her face, hidden as it is by her hair, you can’t read her expression as you’d like to. Your next words feel important thought. “Ava knows my type.”

Melissa nods, her eyes still on the floor. “Why ain’t you gonna see that woman again?” This time she does look up. “You looked like you were actually enjoying yourself.”

“I was,” you admit. There’s no point lying. She saw you, probably smiling and laughing. “Ava set me up with her because she knew I’d find her attractive. But she also told her I might be a bit hung up on someone else, so that night, when you saw me with her, I was probably talking about you.”

“You were talking about me, with her, while she was kissing you?”

That comment lets you place when Melissa would have walked by. You nod. “When you saw me, that was probably right around the time she told me I should think about moving on if I didn’t want to break my own heart even more.”

Melissa stands and is in front of you before either of you can think. She looks at you for what feels like forever, green eyes searching your face, for what you don’t know. She reaches up to touch your face and you close your eyes on instinct, gasping at the featherlight touch of her lips against yours. Covering the hand on your face with your own, you open your eyes as she pulls back. “I can’t do this if your heart’s not in it.”

“What if it is?”

* Ava

“Well I was gonna ask how you enjoyed my date but I guess I got my answer.”

The pair of you jump at the sound of Ava’s voice.

“About damn time you two got your shit together. If I’d knows all it would take to get you with this spicy white was to put another firecracker in front of you I’d have done it months ago!” She claps her hands excitedly. “Oh this is too good to keep!” She disappears from the doorway, only for her head to pop back around a moment later. “Just no funny business in front of the kids. But what happens in the supply closet stays in the supply closet,” she grins, waggling her eyebrows at the pair of you. With that, she leaves you, the sound of her heels echoing along the hallway.

“Ava!” scolds Melissa, thinking she’s going to have to take disinfectant wipes the next time she ventures into the supply closet. With Ava, there’s no guessing what level of depravity the room has been subjected to.

You know your cheeks are beet red, and you hide your face against Melissa’s shoulder.

“This isn’t exactly how I saw this going,” admits the red head.

Raising your head, you look up at her with hopeful eyes. “But you saw it going somewhere?”

She shrugs. “You seem keen on going on all these dates, how about one with me?”

Biting your lip, you take a moment to just look at her; the slightly shy expression, the twinkle in her eye. Nodding, you lean in to kiss her once more.

“You know I almost didn’t believe her.”

You pull apart to see Barb in the doorway.

Melissa rolls her eyes. “Anyone else wanna come and watch?”

A moment later Janine’s head appears around the doorframe, Jacob close behind.

“Seriously?” snaps the red head, hands on her hips.

Ava returns, a wide grin plastered on her face. “They wanted to come and confirm before I collected my winnings.”

“Winnings?” asks Melissa, eyebrow raised and tone bordering on dangerous.

“Hand it over people,” smirks Ava, hand extended.

“Oh hell no!”�� The red head snaps into action, heading for the group. “You did not bet on me!” She snatches the notes from Ava’s outstretched hand. “You bet on my happiness I’m sure you won’t mind if this goes towards it! Y/N? Let’s go!”

You look at the hand being held out towards you and are quick to hoist your bag onto your shoulder and follow her. You duck your head and blush under everyone’s gaze but can’t help but grin as your hand settles in her own.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” calls Ava.

The group watches you both go, Melissa rolling her eyes at the hollering they let out as she puts a possessive arm around your waist.

* Barb *

If Barb notices that Melissa is unusually reserved as they order their drinks she says nothing of it. Truth be told, she had only suggested the meal to make sure Melissa wasn’t left sitting in the house on her own on a Friday night, or worse, going out to the bars on her own in search of some company for the night.

“There’s something I gotta tell you,” says the red head, setting down the menu wasn’t even reading.

“You’re not getting back together with him, are you?” asks the Kindergarten teacher.

“What? No! No, I…that’s over and it’s for the best,” replies Melissa. “No, the night Gary broke up with me, I ended up going for a walk to clear my head and ended up heading to Y/N’s apartment, except I didn’t quite make it there,” she admits. “I saw her out on that date Ava set her up on.” She sighs, wishing she had waited for their drinks to have arrived. “And it made me feel…”

“Jealous?” Barb ventures.

Melissa looks up, meeting her friend’s eyes. “I guess that covers it, yeah.” Taking a deep breath, she pushes on. “Anyway, I spoke to her on Monday about it…and I might have kissed her.” Admission made, she looks away, pleased to see the waiter arriving with their drinks. She doesn’t even let him put it on the table before she takes it and raises it to her lips. It’s only when she finally sets her cocktail glass down, half empty, that she dares to look at her friend once more.

What she sees is a gentle smile.

“Took you long enough.”

“What?” she asks, a frown creasing her features.

“You have liked that girl since before Gary was even on the scene,” says Barb.

Melisa’s frown only deepens. “Then why did you push me, literally may I add, in his direction?”

At this, Barb’s smile falters. “I hoped it might make you realise how you felt about her.”

The red head lets out a huff, reaching for her glass once more. “Well that went well, didn’t it?”

“It wasn’t my finest moment”, admits the older woman. “But maybe it’s all finally working out in the end?”

Melissa fidgets with her straw. “So you don’t think she’s too young? Too…”

Reaching out, Barb places a gentle hand on her friend’s arm. “I think she’s in love with you, and I think you like her, a lot.”

Cheeks pinking, Melissa puts down her glass. “I do. A lot. A helluva lot.”

Knowing it says something in itself the fact the red head isn’t making a joke, but rather admitting how she feels, Barb knows this is the real deal. She knows if this goes South that hearts will be well and truly broken, but she’s seen the two of you together. You work well together. There’s a quiet in you that balances out the boisterousness of Melissa. A steadiness that although she won’t admit it, the red head craves.

“I think you could be good for each other,” she says softly. “And no, I don’t think she’s too anything.”

#melissa x reader #abbott elementary #melissa schemmenti x reader

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