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zepskies · 1 day ago

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Omg really? Wow, thank you so much. That's honestly amazing to me, considering this was one of the hardest for me to write in Smoke Eater. 💞

(But after reading your wonderful review, thank you for making me cry. 🥹💗💗)

First of all, please don't apologize for the heartfelt thoughts you want to share with me. No matter how long or short, I love hearing what you think about my writing, and this is genuinely one of the best reviews I've ever received, because I can tell it came from the heart.

What's crazy is my mom and I also used to watch Chicago Fire together when she was trying to recover from surgery (where she had terrible complications and wasn't well for a long time). It became her comfort show, and I was happy to introduce it to her/have that bonding time where it kept her from thinking about her pain. But I'm so glad you thought to come here to perk yourself up after a rewatch.

honestly I have so many thoughts for each wonderful chapter but I would feel super guilty for spamming :’) this chapter in particular though, hits me harder than anything i’ve ever read before — not in a bad way!🤍

lol girl that's the best kind of spamming. I'd never be upset with that! 😂 Oh good, I'm glad it doesn't hit in a bad way. I was concerned about that for readers when I was first posting this part of the story. 💙

my mom had epilepsy, and I was her caretaker pretty much my entire life. I connect so much with this story because it, feels like i’m reading a mirror, if that makes any sense at all. with all the doctors and the worrying, it’s written so authentically, which is understandable after reading your author’s note. i’m so sorry you’ve experienced such difficult hardships and losses yourself honey, I offer my sincere condolences. and i’m sending you the biggest hugs 🫂🤍🤍

I'm sending you the biggest hugs right back, friend. I'm so sorry about what your mom went through, and what you went through too. Being a caretaker is not easy. I've seen it enough in my family that that's what I drew from in order to write this, so I'm glad it felt authentic to your experience. 🫂💞

now these lines/parts specifically had me crying like a baby lol. december of 2021, my mom had to have surgery at the start of the month. her recovery was going a little slow, but well. however she passed away overnight, 2 days after christmas, completely unexpected. the day before she had been doing so well too— she had more energy and was more mobile without needing as much assistance. came to find out later that’s something nurses call a surge? :/ either way, those moments in particular really tugged at my heartstrings ❤️‍🩹

I'm so sorry for your loss, my friend. It is blind sighting when it comes so unexpected like that. I haven't shared this publicly, but something similar happened with my grandfather this past December. His health declined suddenly, to the point we had to take him to the hospital. After seeming to get better after a few days, he went downhill even harder, and he passed away in mid-December. It's not the same thing as your situation, but I understand the feeling of "why did this happen like this?" But now he's at peace with my grandma. And your mom is free from her pain and discomfort too. ❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹

this line too. I felt this way for so long after my mom died. I didn’t get the final cause for a while since she passed at home and not at a hospital, and to this day I wish I could go back. wish I could’ve done something different. but SUDEP (or, sudden unexpected death in epilepsy) is completely unpreventable so far. I just find it so cruel that this illness I spent my whole life helping her with, ended up taking her anyway and nothing I did mattered in the end. so reading that line, how she broke down, and everything she had been holding in, it really made my heart ache but I also felt less alone in a way.

And I'm sure you did everything you possibly could, just like the reader in this story. 💞 I didn't know about SUDEP, but I have a family member who takes medication for his epilepsy, so I'm going to be reading up on that. I'm so glad that this simple line made you feel less alone in any small way -- I also thought when I was writing that it not only fit what the character was going through, but that other people who've been caretakers for a family member like this would be able to identify with this feeling as well.

everything that followed, it’s like reading a reflection. I shutdown and just went through the motions afterwards too, but ohhh how nice it would’ve been to have a dean ❤️ his support, how he takes care of her, it’s so heartwarming. and it’s really comforting to read. <3

It's that awful "autopilot" thing that somehow allows us to get through the aftermath, in a way, right? If only we could all have a Dean to support us in those moments. Somehow, reading hurt/comfort fics help me feel better too though. 💓💓

a lot of my family distanced themselves afterwards which, it is what it is. that being said, the sentiment in this story of family isn’t always blood resonates with me a lot. my support system is really small, but they chose to be there for me unlike my blood relatives so, that theme in this story means so much — the way dean’s chosen family shows up for her as well, it’s so sweet. 💖

Ugh really? I'm sorry to hear that. 💙💙 But thank you for pointing that out -- that is the overarching theme of this story, a la SPN style. 🥹 Your chosen family can be just as powerful, if not more, than your blood family. And in this story, Dean's family is basically "adopting" the reader/you into it. 💕

I guess the gist of what i’m trying to say, is I wholeheartedly adore this series and it truly means so much to me 🤍 I appreciate your work so much, and I love the unique feeling each piece of your writing brings 💗💗 I know I may sound like a broken record but truly I don’t think I can ever put into words how much I love your blog. you are an absolute sweetheart, truly a light peeking out between cloudy skies 💞

Wow, I really did tear up of happiness. Thank you. 🥹🥹 I appreciate you right back for reading this story and connecting with it like you did. And I'm so glad that you enjoy my blog!! I've only been here on Tumblr for about 2 years actively, but connecting with people like you is what's keeping me here, and honestly gives me energy to write and express myself when I'm going through hard times.

This chapter specifically was very difficult for me to write for multiple reasons, as you saw in my AN, but again it makes me all the more grateful that this is the chapter you connect with the most. I'm very sorry for your loss though. I'm really touched that this story can give you some small comfort. 💞

(And no it's not too much. Thank YOU for taking the time to share this with me.)

Smoke Eater - Part 11

Pairing: Firefighter!Dean Winchester x F. Reader

Summary: Dean Winchester is the cocky, but well-respected Lieutenant at Firehouse 25. He leads by example, but he’s also known to break a few hearts. He’s starting to crave something he’s never had, though. Something stable. Something real.

That’s when he meets you, on a truly terrible day, trapped in a rickety old elevator.

🔥 Series Masterlist

Word Count: 5,400 Tags/Warnings: Major angst warning. But also major hurt/comfort.

Part 11: “Heart of the Home”

You sat very still.

Your hands were gripped together in your lap when the doctor entered. He was tall and lean and blonde, and he would’ve reminded you of your boss, except this man had a kinder face.

You were sitting on the edge of your grandfather’s bed, hoping the doctor would say the bloodwork and scans came back fine. That they wouldn’t need to admit George into the hospital for further testing. That he could go home in the morning.

But your life had never been quite that easy.

“Okay, George. I’m sorry, but we need to admit you,” said the doctor.

He explained that while the malignant tumor of his cancer had been removed last year, the scans that had been done last month hadn’t been able to detect the bright spots now formed on George’s lungs and lymph nodes.

The oncologist would have to confirm, but you all knew where this was headed. Likely those “bright spots” were tumors.

George nodded slowly at first, taking it all in. He asked what his options were, as far as treatment.

“Your oncologist will go over those options with you,” the doctor replied. “We’re going to move you up to Oncology shortly.”

George thanked him.

And you sat very still.

A hand fell on your arm, finally earning your gaze. George’s face was oddly calm, though the worry in his eyes was for you. You realized that he’d gently called your name, though you hadn’t heard him. Your ears were ringing.

His mouth parted to tell you something, but nothing came out. So instead, he tugged you into his arms, and he heaved a long sigh.

“I guess we’re here again,” he admitted. He let out a chuckle. “The Lord does like his tests…but maybe that car accident was a blessing in disguise, huh?”

You heard his voice, but your mind was buzzing—mainly with the doctor’s words, and with a bone-deep feeling that threatened to consume you.

Your car, your fault. Options, again. Here again.

Your fault.

When you didn’t answer, George pulled away a bit to give you a questioning look.

“Sweetheart?” he tried. You laid a hand on his arm.

“You still haven’t eaten dinner, have you?” you asked. Neither had you, for that matter. “I’ll get us something that isn’t rubbery turkey.”

George blinked at you, confused, with a growing edge of worry.

“Isn’t Dean getting your meds? Why don’t you wait for him to—”

“I’m fine,” you said, already getting up to grab your purse. “I’ll be back.”

George called your name again, but the ringing in your ears was now pulsing in time with your heartbeat.

You made your way down the hall to the lobby at a brusque clip, even with your neck brace on. You didn’t see Dean, but he certainly saw you as he was walking back into the hospital. Frowning, he followed and called out to you.

You slowed when you saw him, and he soon caught up with you. He rested a hand on your back.

“Hey, where you goin’?" he asked.

“We haven’t eaten in a while. I’m going to the cafeteria,” you said. Though you seemed distracted, your eyes meeting his only briefly. It triggered a small spidey sense running up Dean’s spine.

He gave you your prescription pain medication, which you took with a small “thank you.”

“Everything okay?” he asked. “How’s George doing?”

“Fine. He’s resting,” you said. And by the look of you, that seemed to be true. But he spotted the tremble in your hands when you took the pill bottle package from him. It made him stop you when you tried to keep walking down to the cafeteria.

“Okay, you wanna run that by me again?” Dean asked.

You frowned, and your brows knit together. “What?”

“Is there something going on?” he pressed.

You sighed, but you didn’t answer him. You looked exhausted, and like you’d rather swallow your own tongue than speak. You shook your head and laid a hand on his wrist.

“I’m fine. Dean, thank you for everything you did tonight, but you still have to work tomorrow. Go home, get some rest,” you said.

You turned from him again. That was your first mistake. He reached out and grasped your hand to stop you.

“Hey, wait a minute,” he said.

“What?” you said in irritation. Your second mistake was not being able to look at him.

Dean was frowning in earnest now. Worry clawed in his gut, which was also telling him not to let you walk away from him. His grip shifted to hold both of your arms and move directly in front of you. He dipped his chin, trying to get you to meet his eyes.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he said gently. “I need you to talk to me.”

You inhaled a shuddering breath. A wave was rising inside you, threatening to pull you into its undertow. Your eyes burned, red and shining. Dean finally saw it when you raised your head, what little you could. Your mouth began to quiver, looking into his eyes. And it was done.

You could no longer be still.

Dean held you when you fell apart in the hallway.

Dean called out of work the next day to stay with you and George. Gordon would be acting Lieutenant until his next shift, and Dean was sure the man would take full enjoyment out of it.

He couldn’t care about that right now though. He felt that his place was here, being your quiet wall of support while you and George and the oncologist talked about treatment options.

“Normally, at the stage we’re in, I would be recommending chemotherapy,” said Dr. Benton.

“Normally?” you echoed.

“At the rate this is progressing, the treatment would have to be aggressive,” he said. His gaze focused on George. “However, at your age, and the current state of your overall health…at this point, I don’t think the rigors of treatment would be worth diminishing your quality of life.”

“What are you saying?” you asked. Your voice cut like a whip, earning the other men’s gazes.

George was the first one to lay a hand on your arm. “You know what it means, honey…he’s saying it ain’t worth it.”

“Of course, it’s worth it,” you retorted. With your brows furrowed and lips pursed, your eyes went from him to the doctor. “Just because he’s older, we shouldn’t even try? Is that what you’re saying, doctor?”

At that, even Dean drew closer to lay a hand on your back. Meanwhile, George squeezed your arm.

Benton shook his head gravely. “That’s certainly not what I’m saying.”

“How much time would I get, if I started treatment,” George asked, before you could volley further with the doctor.

Benton met the other man’s gaze.

“I’m going to be honest with you, George. You may get a few more weeks, or even a few months. But that is a best-case scenario.”

Dean drove you all home that day, after George decided to formally waive treatment. Both men knew you were angry in your silence, but neither one wanted to press you. Dean was too wary, and George was too tired.

Once he was settled in bed, you hadn’t even left his room yet before you grabbed a notepad off his desk and wandered into the hall. You started to make a list of things you still needed from the grocery store, among other things. Dean took that piece of paper out of your hands.

“Good. I’ll handle this,” he said. “Meanwhile, you can get upstairs, take a shower, take your meds, and get some sleep.”

You frowned at him. “You haven’t slept either, Dean.”

“I’m used to it,” he said, giving you a wink and a slight smile. Overnight shifts could be a bitch at a firehouse, but Dean was no stranger to having his sleep interrupted.

“Listen to him, honey. He’s speaking sense,” George called from inside his room. The bedroom door was still open. He was settling into his bed while trying to stifle a cough. He sipped at a cup of water you’d brought for him.

Still, you looked reluctant. Dean held your arms and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“Come on,” he said. “You were in an accident yesterday. You’ve had one hell of a night. You need your rest, or you’ll be no good to anyone.”

And if you pushed yourself much more, he worried that he’d have to take you right back to the hospital. Dean would rather not have that scare so close to the last one.

He brushed your cheek with gentle fingers. With the limited mobility your neck brace provided, you did your best to look up at him. Your eyes were softer.

“Okay,” you breathed.

“Okay? All right, good,” Dean said. You held onto his jacket for a moment, leaning against him.

“Thank you,” you whispered. You felt the burn of tears behind your closed eyelids. A few of them squeezed past and slipped down your cheeks. Dean held your face, brushing the tears away with his thumbs.

“Hey, I’m here, all right? Just let me help you,” he said. “You can lean on me when you need to.”

“I haven’t had that in a long time,” you admitted. “Part of me doesn’t know how to lean.”

“I get that,” Dean said. But you both knew that there was a long and difficult road ahead. He knew he didn’t have to remind you of it. “Whatever you need, you just tell me, okay? If nothing else, I’ve got a strong pair of shoulders.”

Somehow, you smiled. You pressed your forehead against his chest and inhaled deeply, to steady yourself.

“That you do, Lieutenant.”

You left for your room soon after, but not before you brought him down to you for one more tearful kiss.

Dean then watched you climb up the stairs to your room and nearly went up to help you, but he heard George call his name. Dean ventured back into George’s room and heeded his beckoning hand.

“You hungry? I can scramble some eggs or something before I hit the store. I think I saw two more left in the carton,” Dean said. George shook his head.

“Come ‘ere a sec.”

Dean took the hint and sat on the edge of the bed.

“I just wanna thank you for everything you did yesterday. Everything you’re still doing for us,” George said. He looked exhausted, but whatever he wanted to say was important enough to fight off sleep. He clasped a hand on Dean’s arm.

“You don’t have to,” Dean replied.

George huffed. A smile made his eyes gleam brighter.

“I knew you were a special one, Dean Winchester. Knew it the night I met ya, on your very first date with her.”

Dean blinked, but his pause drifted into a reserved smile.

“How’s that?” he asked.

“Well, I’ll be honest. When I heard that black Chevy rumble like hell’s wheels onto the driveway, I thought I might have to worry about you,” George chuckled.

Dean’s lips quirked.

“But no, it wasn’t that. It wasn’t the pretty flowers, or our mutual love of killer sharks,” George quipped, making Dean’s smile more genuine. “It isn’t your job either, or the fact that you saved her. I just believe that you can see a man’s mettle in his eyes…and I saw it in you when I shook your hand that night.”

Dean took that in for a moment. His hand flexed over his knee. Then he met George’s gaze, though he didn’t know what to say. Sometimes though, honestly was the best bet.

“I’m sorry for what you’re going through,” he said at last. “I can’t imagine…”

George let out a breath through his nose. “I’ll tell you a secret.”

He pointed to a picture frame on his bedside. It was of him and his wife, Sophie, when they were around your age and Dean’s. The couple were sitting on a pier that hung over the edge of the lake in their hometown.

She held him from behind, with her arms wrapped around his neck. Her long hair was being carried by the wind, getting swept into George’s eyes. He was smiling too hard to care.

“I’m ready to smile like that again,” he said. He had tears in his eyes, but he was already lighter at the thought. “I know it’s selfish…but I think I’ve missed her long enough.”

Dean paused. Then he cleared his throat past a small well of something he couldn’t name. He wondered if his dad ever had thoughts like that.

“Well, I’ll let you get your rest,” he said. “I’ll be back.”

George nodded and gave Dean’s arm a squeeze. “All right. Drive safe. Don’t hit any goddamn trees.”

He shot Dean a knowing wink, and it almost had the younger man laughing. George’s sense of humor was something else.

Dean then left George to rest. He made sure he had his wallet, keys, and your grocery list before he left your house and went back to the car. He checked his phone and saw a missed call…from Cas.

Dean was reminded again about Azazel, the kingpin who might’ve ordered a hit on his family. Along with the recent murders and arsons, and the connection from one of the victims to your company, Savage & Co.

Dean returned the call as he climbed into the Impala.

“Dean. Everything all right?” Cas asked. “Sam filled me in about the accident.”

“Yeah, everyone’s okay…well, not really. I’ll explain later,” Dean replied. “Listen, about what we talked about at the bar.”

“Yes.” Cas said gravely. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t go to your father about this yet.”

“Funny, I was thinking the same thing.” Dean sighed. “My girl just got some real bad news. I know you gotta keep digging into Savage & Co., but can you keep her out of it?”

“Is she all right?”

“Yeah, more or less…it’s her grandfather.”

“Ah, I see,” Cas said. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Thanks, man. I’d rather her just focus on what she needs to do right now, you know?”

“I get it. And believe me, we’re keeping the investigation of Nick Savage quiet for now,” Cas said. “But if we find something, or worse, if I can’t…I’ll likely need to question her. She works directly with Savage, and from what I can tell, she’s instrumental in bringing in and maintaining several of his major accounts.”

Dean stopped at a red light and took a moment to rub a hand over his tired face, rubbing his eyes. “You don’t really think she’s got any idea of what that asshole’s into.”

“I’m not saying she does. But in working so closely with him, perhaps she’s noticed things about her boss, and the company. Things she’s kept to herself, out of self-preservation.”

Dean frowned. He didn’t want to think about shit like that. It made his stomach churn at the thought of you working for someone who might be doing business with a crime lord, let alone Azazel.

“Well, when that day comes, give me a heads up, okay?”

“Will do.”

“Thanks, Cas.”

Dean offered to take another day off to help you, but you wouldn’t let him. He needed to go back to work, and you were able to arrange working from home for the next few weeks.

Even Nick couldn’t refuse to accommodate you in a situation like this. He knew very well that if he pushed you too hard, you’d go directly to HR.

So he backed off, and told you to take as much time at home as you needed. It allowed you to put him, and that afternoon in his office, away from your mind to focus on taking care of your grandfather.

Though you called your best friend the day you got home from the hospital, Andréa didn’t come by your house to see you and George until the end of the week. She cited mounting projects at work and some kind of tiff with her cousin Meg, but it all sounded like excuses to you.

However, she was gracious enough to bring dinner for the three of you on a Friday night. She cut up with George like normal, and even got him laughing, until a coughing fit forced him to stop. It also took most of the joy out of the rest of the evening.

While George went up to his room to rest, Andréa later joined you in the kitchen. You were washing the dishes, trying to focus on what you were doing. But your mind was buzzing continuously with future tasks and worries. Always, tasks and worries.

“How are you holding up?” Andréa asked. She rubbed your back, and you gave her a slight smile.

“All I can do is make him comfortable, for as long as possible,” you replied. There were tears in your friend’s eyes, but she dabbed them away with the back of her hand.

“What do you need? Anything, you just tell me,” she said.

It was a little easier for you to contemplate leaning on Andréa. You had been friends with her for years, and she was like another daughter to George.

On the other hand, asking Dean for help always made you hesitate. What you two had was still so new. You worried that this was too much for your relationship, too fast.

“Well,” you sighed as you wiped your hands dry on a kitchen towel. You didn’t exactly want to talk about it, but there were things you had to start planning, even if you didn’t know the exact timeframe.

However, as soon as you opened your mouth to reply, Andréa’s cell phone rang. She held up a finger to you and checked it. To your surprise, she actually answered it.

“Hey, babe,” she replied with a smile. You heard Benny’s deep voice on the line, asking a question. “Yeah, I’m still here. I’m probably leaving soon though.”

She continued her conversation for a few more minutes, but you didn’t hear anything after that. A tension headache was sharp behind your eyes, while anger (yes, anger) rolled hot under your skin. Your lips pursed. You busied yourself with straightening up the kitchen until she continued her call for another few minutes.

“Sorry about that,” she said, finally turning her attention back to you. “So what do you need?”

You put away the last dry dish and turned to her coolly.

“Nothing.”

Andréa frowned. She knew there was something off with you, but her furrowed brows betrayed her confusion.

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing,” you repeated. “Don’t you need to head out, anyway?”

“No, I was just…what’s up with you?” she asked.

“What’s up with me is my grandfather’s dying!” you snapped. You left her in the kitchen, precisely so that she’d follow you out. You grabbed her purse for her and went to the front door, where you stepped out.

Andréa was dismayed and confused as she followed you out onto the porch. She raised her brows at you when you shut the door and crossed your arms at her.

“I know you, and this isn’t just about that. What’s the problem?” she asked.

“You can’t seem to detach from your boyfriend for more than five minutes to just be my friend. That’s the problem,” you replied. “But why should I be surprised? Like always, you’re too wrapped up in yourself to consider anyone else.”

Her brows knitted together; she looked hurt by your words, but also defensive.

“How can you say that when you’ve been exactly the same way?” she accused. “Since you met Dean, I’d be lucky to see you once a week—”

“I call you every week,” you began, counting the list with your fingers. “You’re always busy, but you never give me a day that works for you. And when we do make plans, you usually cancel. Why? Because you’re going sailing with Benny. You’re going to a restaurant, hours away, just to try the new sushi bar beer garden, or whatever the hell. Or you’re going on an impromptu road trip, or you’re planning a summer trip to Greece. Give me fucking break, Dre.”

By now she was frowning angrily, her arms crossed. “You’re mad at me because I have a life?”

“No. I’m happy for you that you found someone. I really am,” you said. “But we clearly live in two different versions of reality. I just don’t have the time or the energy to entertain yours.”

You knew you were being too harsh. You felt incredible guilt as soon as it all left your mouth…but part of you also felt like a weight had been lifted off your chest. The problem was, you still felt heavy. Just in a different way.

Both of you were crying when Andréa left your house.

All too soon, a week became a month. In that time, Dean called you every day to check on you. He spent most of his evenings with you and George when he wasn’t on shift. And when he was, sometimes Meg would drop in.

She understood your argument with Andréa, and she respected you for taking a stand when you needed to. She even confided you that she’d had similar frustrations with her cousin lately.

But Meg wasn’t your only visitor. Ellen had come a few times to bring you lunch and dinner, even breakfast, though you hadn’t asked her to. You realized then how close Dean must be to his friends at the firehouse, along with the Harvelles; Ellen also refused to take any money from you for the food.

By the end of the month, George mainly spent his days sleeping. Pain medication made his days nearly painless, but not without struggle. You were doing your best to care for him while continuing to work full-time from home. You were also exhausted, though you refused to admit it.

Today was a better day, however, because George was awake. He was also more aware of his surroundings than usual.

He stopped you from adjusting his pillow so you would sit down on the edge of his bed. He took your hand in his, brushing a thumb over the back of it.

“I’m okay with this, you know,” he said. You pursed your lips, but he stopped you from whatever you were going to say. “I don’t want to leave you. You know that…but I’m so damn proud of you. Your Gram was, and still is…”

Your lower lip wobbled as you tried and failed to keep your tears at bay. They stung in your eyes and slipped past your defenses, down your face.

“The house is yours. But if that’s too hard for you, just sell it,” he said, heaving a deep breath. “It’s just the bones. You’re the heart. And you always have been.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but not a sound would come out. You held his hand with both of yours and stared down at them. Until his voice once again commanded your attention.

“I always thought…moving to the city ruined my daughter. That we should’ve stayed in Lebanon. That maybe I gave her too much freedom, and I failed her somehow along the way,” George said. His eyes were heavy with old heartache. And yet, they soon began to lighten.

“But the day we lost a daughter, we gained one too,” he said. Then, he chuckled a little. “And I know I never failed with you, sweetheart.”

That proved to be too much for you. He pulled you into his arms like you were still a child, and he held you for a long time while you cried yourself out.

Though he eventually spotted Dean hesitating in the doorway. He’d probably let himself in with the spare key you’d given him.

George raised a hand from your back and silently beckoned Dean inside his room. He was getting tired, drifting off thanks to the morphine.

“Hey, lookie there. The boyfriend’s here,” George whispered with a bit of cheek. You sucked in a breath and raised your head, wiping at your eyes before you turned around. Dean met you with an attempt at a smile and a gentle hand on your back.

“Just got out of work?” you asked. He’d been on a 24-hour shift, and you’d missed him. You stood and stepped into his welcoming embrace. He dropped a kiss on your forehead.

“Yeah. I’ve got the next couple of days off,” Dean said. He greeted George next and asked him if he needed anything.

“Just some water,” the older man replied.

“I’ll get it,” you said with a sniff. “Need to start dinner too.”

“I already brought some food. You like Italian, right?” Dean said, with a subtle smile. It earned your sigh and a grateful smile. He knew very well that it was now one of your favorites. Italian meatballs always reminded you both of your first date.

“Thank you,” you said, grasping his hand. He squeezed yours with a nod, before he let you go.

When you were out of earshot, George cleared his throat past a wet cough. Dean reached over and grabbed him a tissue. George took it with a nod. Again, he encouraged Dean to come closer.

“I’m not worried,” George said, between deep breaths. “You know why?”

Dean just stared back for a moment. He genuinely had no idea what the man might say next.

“Tell me,” he said.

“My granddaughter’s strong. Always has been, because she had to be,” said George. “But you’re gonna be there when she’s not.”

Dean considered the weight of that charge. The anxiety in his chest felt familiar; like the day he got his badge at the Fire Academy, knowing then the responsibility he held in his hands.

That’s a lot to put on just three months of knowing this girl, came a more selfish thought. It sounded a lot like the guy he used to be, not too long before he met you.

But when Dean thought about you, and what you’d begun to mean to him…

He realized that he only had one answer.

“Yes, sir. I am,” said Dean.

George gave a tired smile. “Good man.”

And that night, an agreement was made.

In the morning, your grandfather was gone.

Dean held you through what he thought was the worst of your heartbreak. But after that dour morning, it was like a switch flipped inside you.

In the days after George’s death, your shutters came up. You threw yourself into checklists and task after task—in funeral arrangements and planning and contacting distant relatives and friends.

This was your failsafe. Your version of “autopilot.” And these things needed to get done, after all.

But Dean worried when he no longer saw the softer side of you. Like your heart had been wrung dry.

He inevitably had to go back to work, but in between the demanding hours of his schedule, he tried to get you to slow down. He saw the warning signs of you running yourself into the ground. He just didn’t know how to help you land.

So Dean picked up slack where he saw it, often without you asking him to. He began fixing the house, one section at a time. He enlisted Benny’s help, since he actually had a small construction business. Dean even paid for the materials himself without you knowing.

And one sunny afternoon, he took a break from repaving part of the cracked and uneven driveway to grab a beer inside. You were sitting at the kitchen table with stacks of papers all around you, your cellphone on speaker as some kind of elevator music continued to ring on a loop.

“Can you believe I’ve been on hold with the funeral director for 20 minutes?” you told him in irritation. But you didn’t truly take sight of him until he came back from the kitchen.

He wore a familiar ensemble of jeans and black undershirt with a plaid shirt, rolled up to his elbows. He was covered in a fine layer of sweat, and his hands were dusty and stained from his work on the driveway. Dean looked tired, and that made you feel guilty.

Meanwhile, he frowned and popped open a beer. “You want one of these? Looks like you could use one.”

You shook your head. With a sigh, you hung up the phone. You’d try calling again later. Instead, you focused on the next item of your checklist for today.

“Food. Because we’re gonna need to eat after the service,” you inclined your head. “Okay, still need to come up with a list of caterers, because I don’t think I can cook for that many people.”

Dean nodded at that. “Let me talk to Ellen. She’ll give you a good price, and her food is good.”

You looked up from your notepad and considered him thoughtfully. You wouldn’t have thought to cater from a bar, but he was right. Ellen had great food at the Roadhouse.

“Okay, I’ll call her,” you said.

“No, I’ll call her,” Dean insisted. He set down the beer on the table and leaned his palms flat on its surface. “Sweetheart, I told you I’d help you with all this. You don’t have to do it by yourself.”

“Dean, you’ve done enough,” you replied. Your brows drew together stubbornly. “You’re paving my driveway right now, for God’s sake! This is my responsibility, not yours.”

Dean frowned, making you sigh. You leaned back in your seat and crossed your arms.

“Look, we’ve only been dating for three months,” you said. And in your mind, a good chunk of that time had been spent in the worst hell of your life. “This right here? It’s a lot. I’m not expecting you to deal with all this…”

You bit your lip, and your gaze fell away from his as your insecurities took hold. The thoughts that had been plaguing you every night since this all began, on the night of the car accident.

“And…if you’d rather take a break from us for a while, I’d understand,” you said.

Your voice was more collected than you felt. But that didn’t make it any easier when Dean stared back at you, mostly incredulous. You even thought you saw a thread of hurt there, and it made your heartache worsen.

Dean came around to your side of the table. He dragged a chair back and sunk into it, facing you directly.

“You think that’s the kind of guy I am?” he asked.

You immediately shook your head. You weren’t trying to upset him, or imply that he wasn’t reliable, or trustworthy, or whatever was running through his head. You were just trying to be realistic.

You’re so pragmatic it hurts, as Andréa had often told you.

“Dean, it’s not that…” you began, a bit helplessly. “I just—”

“Just, nothin’.” His chair scraped toward you as he reached out for your hand. He made sure you looked him in the eyes when he said this next part.

“I’m not leaving you with this.”

Your gaze met his, though you desperately tried to keep your heart from rising into your throat.

“I’m not leaving you,” Dean said. His tone, his eyes, his hold on your hand was firm.

For a moment, you stared at him, unblinking, even as tears swam in your eyes.

He’s not leaving you.

Not like everyone else in your life.

You were grateful. Too grateful, even, for words.

When you finally broke down into tears, Dean realized what an idiot he’d been. Your wall of stoicism had been just that—a flimsy wall. Now it was shattered, and so were you.

It scared him just how much, as he gathered you onto his lap and into his arms. You didn’t seem to care that he was dirty and covered with sweat. You clung to him strong, and he held you back just as tightly.

“No matter what I did, it wasn’t enough,” you confessed. “You save people all the time. I couldn’t save anyone in my life.”

Dean frowned. He cupped the back of your head, and he felt your tears sliding down his neck. His voice was thick with emotion when he was able to reply.

“Oh, baby. It’s not your fault.”

“I can’t…I can’t do anything. Anything that matters.” Your voice was a broken whisper. It damn near broke his heart.

“Now you know that’s not true,” he said. “I’m not gonna let you lie to yourself like that.”

You trembled and heaved with sobs, and he continued to hold you.

Just be there, Sam had told him, when Dean had called him from the hospital. Sam reminded him again last week, when George finally passed.

Is that all I’m supposed to do? Dean thought. His brows furrowed, but he tried to hide his frustration.

He was used to people depending on him. He led a team. Before then, he’d looked out for Sam all his life. Dean had never had to help someone get through this kind of grief though. He just wanted to help you, in whatever way he could.

Because he was worrying, just like you. That whatever he did, it wouldn’t be enough.

But he couldn’t leave you.

I can’t, and I won’t, he thought. So he took a breath, and he said the first true thing that came to mind.

“You’re the strongest woman I know, you know that?” Dean said. He spoke low and steady, but with the conviction he felt. “And that’s a tall order, considering some of the badass ladies I’ve got in my life.”

A smile tugged at his lips when he considered people like Ellen and Jo, Jody and Donna. He might’ve lost his mom, but he and Sam hadn’t lacked when it came to influential women in their lives.

“But I saw it the day we met. I see it every time we’re together,” he continued. “You work hard as hell. You take care of everyone around you…”

You were still quiet, trying to stifle your crying.

Dean let out a breath. “Man, if you only knew how much you’ve been helping me. Keeping my damn feet on the ground with this whole…arsonist mess my dad’s been investigating. Digging up the past, my mom, the whole damn thing.”

With a sniffle, you uncurled from him, just enough to reveal your face. Your grip on his shirt loosened, your palm flattening on his chest. He held your hand there and turned his lips to your forehead. He sensed that you were calming down. That you were listening.

“That matters to me,” he told you.

You nodded and tightened your hand on his. “Me too.”

Your voice was still shaky, but it sounded a little stronger.

“See? You might as well face it.” Dean grinned. “You’re a badass chick with a big heart.”

You snorted in response. Your lips even twitched at a smile. He spied it when he looked down at you. And you rested easier against him as your tears subsided.

“Thank you,” you whispered. He dried your cheek with a brush of his hand.

“For what?” he asked.

“For staying.”

AN: So first off, I'm sorry for the gritty "reality" of this one. It's just where the story took me, though it serves a purpose narratively and for both the reader and Dean's character development.

But also, I think this has just been on my mind, since both my grandmother and great uncle (brother and sister) died within a year of one another due to different forms of cancer. My great uncle passed in May of this year, and my grandmother two years this past October.

Again, I'm sorry if this one was too heavy, but art does imitate life and this was probably my brain trying to express those emotions I couldn't fully make sense of at the time. George will be missed, but will still be felt in the rest of this story, as I'm sure any of you who've lost close family members will understand. 💙

Next Time:

The identity of Azazel will finally be revealed in Part 12. But first...

You nodded. “By the way, it was nice of Sam and Eileen to come. And Meg and Cas.”

Dean smiled.

“They can be your people too,” he said. “If you want ‘em to be.”

You couldn’t help it. Your tears brewed and bubbled over. And you moved slowly across the couch to twine your arms around his neck. Dean’s lips tugged at a smile, and he welcomed you with an arm wrapping around your waist.

Both of you were still wearing the same clothes you’d been wearing all day; you in your black dress and Dean in his slacks and white buttoned-down shirt, though by now without the jacket, and the shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

You were infinitely exhausted. But one thing had become clear to you over the past few weeks.

“Thank you. Thank you for today, and for every day since we met,” you said shakily.

Keep Reading: PART 12

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Series Tag List (Part 1):

@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb

@vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @roseblue373 @this-is-me19 @emily-winchester @spnexploration @deans-spinster-witch @deans-baby-momma @iprobablyshipit91

@melancholictearz @nic-kolas @katherineann814 @sleepyqueerenergy @wayward-lost-and-never-found @thewritersaddictions @just-levyy @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons @antisocialcorrupt @lacilou @adoringanakin @theonlymaninthesky @teehxk @midnightmadwoman @brianochka @branj19

@agalliasi @venicesem @chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @solariklees @xsophianicolex @deansbbyx @candy-coated-misery0731 @curlycarley @sarahgracej @bagpussjocken @ultrahviolentart @chernayawidow @beskarfilms @mimaria420

#genuinely one of the loveliest reviews I've ever recieved 💞💞#reader appreciation #lovely mutuals #smoke eater feedback

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starlemons · 3 days ago

Text

Coffee and Crime ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ PART TWO

Pairing ✦ mafia!bucky x reader

Word Count ✦ 2.2K

Warnings ✦ overall story has a 18+ content warning, MDNI, unwanted groping, attempted SA, mentions of being roofied, mention of blood, physical violence, alcohol, clubbing, someone flashing a crowd, cussing

A/N ✦ I wrote part two a lot quicker than I thought I would, I'm actually really enjoying this story so far! Stay tuned for part three :)

PART ONE »»» Series Masterlist

I will update the series every 1-4 days depending on my schedule

“Would you get your head out of la-la-land and focus.”, Nat said, snapping her fingers in front of your face.

It had been three days since your interaction with Bucky, and you kept finding yourself daydreaming about him, wishing the handsome man would come back into the coffee shop soon.

“Sorry Nat.”, you said sheepishly rubbing the back of your neck.

Your friend stood in front of you in her bedroom, a tight purple dress clung to her figure.

“What do you think of this one?”

“You could wear a trash bag and still look amazing. But I think that I like the green one more.”, you said pointing to the silky cocktail dress she had tossed onto the bed next to where you sat.

“Well then I guess green it is.”

The two of you were at your and Nat's shared apartment, readying yourselves to go out for your mutual friend Thor’s birthday party. Nat considered herself a clubbing queen, she loved to be the life of the party. You on the other hand would prefer to be at home.

“Now little-miss-wallflower.”, Nat said pointing to you, “We need to put together something for you to wear.”

She had you try on outfit after outfit, repeatedly saying none of them had that oomph she was going for.

“Nat can I just wear this?”, you pleaded with her, gesturing to the long black bodycon dress she had put you in.

“No, that's not fitting the image I have in my head.”, she said, ruffling through the closet.

“And what exactly is that image?”

“I want a sexy, bold, outgoing vibe.”

“You know that being bold and outgoing aren’t exactly my thing, right?”

“Exactly, you need to get out of your comfort zone Y/N, live a little.”

After several more outfit changes Nat finally found the perfect ensemble. A red-wine colored dress adorned your body. Its neckline dipped dangerously low, reaching below your sternum and the bottom of the garment barely hit mid-thigh.

“Isn’t this a bit much?”, you asked, looking yourself up and down in the mirror.

“Not in my opinion.” she shrugged, “But anyways you look amazing so I say this is it.”

Staring at yourself again, you did have to admit the dress did make you feel hot.

“Okay fine, you win, I’ll wear this.”

Nat smiled from ear to ear, “Amazing! Now let’s finish getting ready.”

You added a pair of black heels to your outfit, straightened your hair, and Nat had helped you do a smokey eye for your makeup. After an hour of getting ready, the two of you were walking out the front door and heading downstairs to wait for your Uber.

After the quick car ride, you and Nat found yourselves outside a club, a bright blue neon sign reading Supernova sat above the front door. Both of you joined the line to get in. Once you reached the front, the bouncer checked your ID’s and stamped your hands with a shooting star that lit up under the flashing lights.

You scanned the club, glancing over the horde of people, before your eyes finally found who you were looking for. Grabbing Nat’s hand you pulled her behind you in the direction of your friends.

“Y/N! Nat!”, Thor cheered seeing the two of you approaching.

“Hi Thor! Happy Birthday!”, you yelled over the booming music, giving him a hug.

You then greeted your other friends; Wanda, and Clint. The group sat at a table near one of the many small stages scattered about the club. Each of the platforms had girls dancing on them. Your eyes quickly looked away as one of them took off her top, cheers erupting from the group of men standing below her. You felt beyond out of your element.

“You look like you’re about to jump out of your skin Y/N.”, Clint chuckled at you.

You shrugged at him, “I think I just need to get a drink in me. I’ll be right back.”

Walking away from your friends you snaked your way through the throng of people dancing, reaching the bar.

The bartender, a girl with bright pink hair and several facial piercings, turned from the man she was talking to, yelling from the other end of the bar top, “Be with you in just a second!”

You nodded at her, looking up at the chalkboard menu sitting above many shelves of alcohol. Your eyes scanned over the neon pink chalk settling on the special for the night.

Tonight's Special: Midnight Whisper

⛦ vodka, blue curacao, grenadine, sprite, edible glitter

⛦ $11

You leaned up against the bar, studying your surroundings while you waited. Couples were dancing a little too close for comfort, there was a group of girls circling around one of their friends as she threw up in a trashcan by the dancefloor, a group of frat boys sang along to the music blasting through the club.

As your eyes glanced at the V.I.P. area, they widened in shock. Bucky sat in the corner, surrounded by Steve and a few more men. You locked eyes with him and he raised his glass towards you, shooting you a smile.

“What can I get for you?”

You jumped in surprise, turning to see the bartender.

“Can I get a Midnight Whisper?”

“Of course, that’ll be $11.”

Reaching inside your purse your fingers wrapped around your wallet, pulling it out to pay.

“I’ve got it.”, a voice said from behind you.

You looked over your shoulder seeing a man you didn’t know behind you.

“It’s okay really.”, you said.

“No, I’ve got it sexy, a lady with a body like yours shouldn’t have to pay.”, he smirked down at you.

He handed the bartender some cash.

“Um thank you.”, you said flatly.

“No problem, smoke show, I’m Caleb, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you.”, you grumbled, not meaning it at all, but trying to be polite because he just bought you a drink.

“Here you go girly.”, the pink haired girl slid you your cocktail.

Caleb slid his arm around your shoulders, hand lingering over your drink. You were looking at his face as he did this, trying to figure out how to get out of this situation.

Reaching for your drink, you turned away from him, “Thanks for the drink, I’ve got to get back to my friends now, they’re probably wondering where I went.”

Caleb’s hand shot out, gripping your bicep, “What do you mean you’ve got to go back to your friends? I just bought that for you, can’t you stay and at least talk to me for a bit?”

“First of all,let go of me.”, you hissed yanking your arm out of his grip, “And secondly I tried to pay for my own drink, but you insisted, I said thank you for it, but that doesn’t mean I owe you shit.”

You turned and weaved back through the crowd towards your friends.

As you approached Nat raised an eyebrow at you.

“What’s got you in such a sour mood.”, she said, studying your visibly pissed expression.

“Some dude bought my drink for me and acted like I owed him a conversation because of it.”, you rolled your eyes.

“I would be irritated too.”, Wanda said from beside you.

You laughed, “Anyway enough about that weirdo, guess who I just saw Nat?”

“Who?”

Grinning, you said, “That Bucky guy from work the other day!”

“Oh my God!”

“Who’s Bucky?”, Wanda asked.

You filled your friend in on the handsome man.

“Why don’t you go ask for his number?”, Clint said, eavesdropping on your conversation.

“Because he’s in the V.I.P area, and I don’t have the balls to do it.”, you laughed out, taking a sip of your drink.

Just then Thor appeared, having come from the dancefloor.

“Come on guys let's go dance!”, he yelled.

He grabbed your hand pulling you with him, the rest of your group following behind.

As you guys danced and drank, you began to feel weird. Your head was pounding and you were hit with a wave of nausea.

“I don’t feel good.”, you whispered to Nat, and you rushed to the bathrooms.

“Hey wait-”, she called after you.

You disappeared into the crowd leaving Nat behind, as you stumbled through bodies, your vision began to get blurry leaving you a disoriented mess. There was no way that one drink had done this to you.

Finally you reached the hallway in the back of the club that led to the bathrooms. You shakily leaned up against the wall, dragging yourself along the cool cinder blocks towards the ladies room. Suddenly you found yourself pushed up against the wall, your back smacking it so hard you almost felt the wind rush out of your lungs.

“Hi beautiful.”, Caleb jeered at you.

“What-”, you slurred out, tongue feeling heavy.

He cut you off, covering your mouth with his hand, moving your lolling head back. His other hand settled on the back of your thigh, slowly creeping its way up, his fingers digging into your ass cheek. Your body was like Jell-O, you couldn’t move, leaving you defenseless. You felt tears begin to well in your eyes as you looked up at him.

Next thing you knew Caleb was lying flat on his back a few feet away and you crumpled sliding down the wall to the ground, your legs unable to support yourself.

“What the hell man!”, Caleb screamed, a cut to the side of his head had blood cascading down his face.

“Just what the fuck do you think you’re doing.”, someone said.

You looked up at your savior, realizing it was the same man who had generously tipped you the other day.

“Oh what so a guy can’t feel up his girlfriend anymore?”, Caleb lied.

“Sweetheart,” Bucky said looking down at you, “Is this guy your boyfriend?”

“No.”, you gurgled out.

“She doesn’t know what she’s talking about! The bitch is just drunk!”, Caleb yelled as he stood up.

Bucky however knew that wasn’t the case. You were obviously out of it, but not from alcohol, you gave away the tell tale signs of being roofied.

After he saw you at the bar, he had been watching you. He saw your interaction with Caleb, almost getting up after the man had grabbed you, but relaxed when he saw you could handle it on your own. However when he saw you stumbling off towards the bathrooms and Caleb stalking after you, he stood up and followed the two of you, ignoring Steve asking him where he was going.

He had entered the hallway just as the slime ball had groped you, and without thinking, Bucky decked him in the head. In all honesty Bucky hadn’t felt this angry in a while. It pissed him off to no end, seeing Caleb taking advantage of you, the shy and sweet barista he had just met the other day.

“Y/N, oh my God what the hell happened?”, Nat appeared at the end of the hallway.

“This jackass drugged her.”, Bucky growled, nodding in Caleb's direction.

Nat moved towards the aforementioned jackass, but was stopped by Bucky putting his arm out.

“Let me deal with him. Get her up to the V.I.P area, let Steve know what happened.”

Nodding Nat moved down to the ground, throwing your arm around her shoulder and dragging you upwards. You stumbled as the two of you walked back down the hallway, out into the club. Looking back over your shoulder you saw Bucky nearing Caleb, rolling the sleeves of his dress shirt up.

Hazily you remember Nat heaving you to the V.I.P section. Steve immediately recognized the pair of you from the other day, and he jumped up helping Nat carry you to one of the couches. While they did so Nat explained the situation to him.

“Tony go get her some water.”, Steve told one of the other men that had been sitting with him.

The dark haired man turned and headed towards the bar with urgency.

“Y/N, Nat are you guys okay?”, you heard Clint shouting from the velvet rope sectioning off the V.I.P area from the rest of the club.

“Are those your friends?”, Steve asked looking at the group that had gathered.

“Yeah they are.”, Nat said.

“Hey guys let them up here.”

One of the security guards by the rope lifted it up and allowed your friends through.

“You know that guy from earlier she said was weird? Somehow he drugged her.”, Nat said to your friends.

“Where’s he at? What's he look like? I'm going to go kick his ass.”, Thor stated, turning to head back down to the dancefloor and hunt down Caleb.

“Someone else already beat you to it.”, Nat said pointing to Bucky who had returned from the hallway.

“Sam, Scott, can the two of you go get the mess in the hallway cleaned up?”, Bucky asked as he neared everyone.

“Gotcha.”, Sam nodded.

“What’d you do kill him?”, Nat asked gob smacked.

“No, just taught him a lesson about keeping his hands to himself.”, he said as he picked up a cocktail napkin from one of the tables, wiping blood off his knuckles.

Your vision started blurring again and the ringing in your ears drowned out any other sounds. The last thing you remember was Bucky looking at you worriedly before you finally passed out.

PART THREE

I AM OPENING A TAGLIST FOR THIS STORY LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT ADDED!

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scara-writes · 2 days ago

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100% perfect

GN!Esper!Reader x Y!Guide!Male OC

Note: hello im back. A lot happened, I had an anxiety attacks, my mind has been having a lot of bad thoughts, my dog passed away last year—three months ago... I didn't have a lot of time for me to write since I've been grieving for my dog's death up until now but I'm okay, I'm healing... Anyway, my writings is rusty and probably didn't improve. I know some of you guys really tried to reach out through ask and I'm kind of happy. Thanks. For now I'll give this to piece of one shot for a new year. This Esper x Guide thing I made might not be accurate. All i know is they are similar to Alpha x Omega shits except the curse thing on espers. This might be cringe. i will try to edit it. I will try to update the other oc's as well.

-also please do not do this, i do not condone anything in this story. This is purely fiction and be kept as a fiction.

CW: implied se(g)s, implied suicide(mention), yandere, drugging, manipulation, dynamic power, etc.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

"(Y/n)!!" A ginger haired male rush up to you, hugging you by the time you step on the greenery field of the university. Pastel blue of sweater was the first thing you see before you were envelope by a hug. You tense when his arms coils around your waist, hearing him breathe out of relief as he buries his face on your left shoulder.

You don't know what to do everytime he does this. There were eyes everywhere and it doesn't seem like he is bothered by it.

Of course why would he?

Micah Clarke is not only popular and prettiest student in this campus. He is known for being famous as the youngest champion of ice skating 3 years ago, defending his title until now. His luscious natural lips, his hazel eyes that could make you halt on what you were doing, the type to make yourself give him a third glance because he is so pretty. So pretty that you sometimes envy his glassy skin, igniting a insecurities to yourself. His soft curly ginger hair and freckled face that matches his glossy alabaster complexion. The type of guy who prefers cute, pastel than those typical guys—omg so unique(lol)—that always choose to wear dark or dull colors. Everyone finds him attractive including yourself. Everything about him screams beauty and elegance. He can hook up with men and women if he wants to but he chose not to.

From what you heard, he is a rare S-rank Guide. Most espers would try hook up with him atleast make a contract with someone like him. He would rather spend his time painting his nails, crochetting, organising or planning his time, practicing his amazing skills on ice skating, or rather do hundred routine for his skincare than hook up with other people. Quirky, Alright. Still, this doesn't stop people from wanting to go between his pants and his fame.

To people he is a swan. He is epitome of perfection.

You always see him pass by to your department, always getting called by the principal,inviting him to do a photoshoot, using his face as an advertisment for upcoming enrollent or any event inside the university. You never dwell yourself to swoon on to him whenever he pass by. Fine, you do like him. But not the kind of like where you are romantically interest to him. You just admire his looks, his talents and that's about it. You just don't like he was too friendly, there's nothing wrong with that but invading someone else personal bubble space—and the feeling of shame on yourself for being near someone kind as him—as if you two are already close is not your thing to a person you rarely talk to. Unlike him, you are the quite the opposite when it comes to socialising,You like being alone, you aren't anti-social, atleast, that's what you think you are. You are confident by yourself. An Introvert.

You just like the silence. It eases your deteriorating mind—(stupid esper curse) Somewhere peace and quiet,reading books, listening to music—gosh laufey and wave to earth and even (favorite singer/composer) always sound so good, spending time with your pets, to drown out insanity voices piling up in your head. Although you just have a few friends, you love to be alone. You once dream about getting a job. To work hard and earn a good money, once you have enough money. You would spend it to buy a house and lot somewhere away from the city and nearby the countryside with a small farm. Letting your family and friends to visit you time to time in occassions. Where you can spend the rest of your life alone and happy. A dream that would be come true if only you didn't awakened as an esper after you reach 18.

As for the guy who has the entire school and other people folded for him. He is choosing you to lend his attention, to a person who doesn't like attention. So why was he talking to someone who is a nobody like a B-rank Esper like you? The only interaction you had with him before he let himself in your life was when you pull him away from the bridge—you didn't know him at that time—a few exchange greeting—which of course he would be the first one to initiate it—and.... The party....

"N-ngh!!!" A whiny moan escape his lips. Your lips were on his neck drinking each of his soft sound coming from his mouth. The blaring party background can be ignore in the background thanks to the closed lock door of this room the both of you are in.You bite and nip his skin as if animal marking its prey. You didn't care if you torn his shirt, you just needed his guide seep through more, letting your body gone addicted to him. "(Y-y/n)!" The whay he whimpered your name made you groaned. The way every pulse from his body sends his guiding through your body. You were delirious, you can't resist him—

"Missed you! Why aren't you checking my messages? You know I got worried when you didn't reply." He whined, his orbs shows concern and sadness. You look away.

"...hey." you greeted him with quieter tone. You pulled away from the hug not liking the way your body just relaxes everytime his guide powers automatically seeps through your body. You don't hate it but you don't like the way that your body depends on someone just for the sake of being sane and relax.

.... The shame you are feeling over the past few weeks.

You still feel guilty and ashamed about it everytime you remember those memory.

"I... I was busy. Had to do homework. I fell asleep and forgot to charge my phone." You told him. Another excuse. You just put your phone on do not disturb.

You don't have the guts to tell a sweet person like him to leave you alone. Well you did because you are ashamed to face him but he insisted it was never you fault. It always ended up him spending time with you. You can't—you owe him more than anything—Especially now that all people's oggling to you too now that you have the attention of the star. They would try to befriending you so that they could get closer to him.

Gosh, you are getting tired. Why can't people leave you alone?

You missed the old times where you can be at peace. No drama, nowhere near on people who wants attention.

"O-oh. Well that's alright."he chided before grabbing your hands with both of his. His smooth hands rubbing against your ragged callouses. He continued, "well actually I was wondering could you hangout out with me? This friday? I know you don't have schedule at that time since you showed me your schedule—And I want to spend more time with you!" He beamed. His smile was out of this world and it blinds you.

"I uhh .. have a plan on that time..." You words went silent as soon as your eyes sees the smile from his lips slowly fell down to his face."really?" The grip on your hands were getting uncomfortable.

"Umm.... I just wanna be on my home and well—"He gasped, his smile is coming back on his symmetrical face as he clung to your right arm."oh! Why didn't you say so? We can hangout together in your home!"

Giddy, he press his front closer to you which made you feel suffocating. His guide power automatically seeps through you again.

"N-no, Mikah... What I meant to say is I plan to rest, like spend alone on that day. A peace and quiet." You slowly pull away your hand gently from his clinging hands.

You didn't expect he would react like this. Tears are already in the corner of his eyes. His lips quivering. "W-what? Are you saying that I'm boring, I-I'm too loud? Did I do something wrong?"

The people who were eavesdropping at your conversation sent a glare and unwanted resentment towards you.

You quickly shook your head. Your free hand clasping against his clutching ones that is gripping your poor unavailable hand. "No... It's not like that. You didn't do anything wrong.. I just want a me time... You know when... Uhhh before you and I become friends.... I just want to relax by myself.... You're a good friend and a good company but... We've been hanging out for a while... Ummm w-what I'm trying to say is... I want some time to be alone. You... You know what I mean right?"

Micah gave you a blank stare. You were getting uneasy. You bite your inner cheek. Will he lash out? He never seem to be the person who never received a refusal on his entire life. As soon as 2 seconds has passed, you noticed his eyes were akin to sadness. You feel the guilt running up to your spine.

You tried to avoid his gaze looking straight his frowning lips before getting replace by a forced grin. "Oh! I get that! You wish a time for yourself! Self care stuff in all that!"

Your heart beats a little faster in excitement, is he finally leaving you for a bit? You were about to thank him for understanding. He does l—

"B-but!!" He grabbed your hands again.

You internally groan. Does he even know the word no? Of course he don't.

He never had someone says no to him. Everything he request would be at his feet. You can't yell or be rude. That's not in your nature and plus if you done it. His fans would kill you.

"I need to be with you o-on friday! You know... I wanna spend my birthday with you.. P-please? your presence alone is enough a gift for me." He stammers. You blink in surprise. "I-I promise I won't bother you the next day if you really wanna spend t-time for yourself..."

Birthday?

"T-to be honest.... I don't like parties uhmm..." He lick his lips as if the word 'party' is a taboo between the two of you." Especially my birthday parties because a-although people greet me a happy birthday or any party occasion and stuff they never really mean it. They... Always use that as an excuse to use me for my fame or my money that I earned so hard in those competitions... I.. I plan to not throw one b-because m-my family isn't forcing me anymore... I just want to spend my birthday w-with you. Y-you're the only d-decent person who treated me normally."he stammer. You feel a lump on your throat when he says you're a decent. "I... I know... Umm I'm asking to much f-from you and I know... you didn't mean to do that—" he continues to rambles that some of his words can't form a right sentence. You noticed his eyes were in the verge of tears, threatening to drop from his eyes.

"I'm.... Not a decent person." You told him looking away from him, ashamed and hurt were written in your face.Your voice grew quiet but the man Infront catch on what you said, already refering to the 'incident' between the two of you. He bit his lower lips and almost yelled. His face pull out a sad look. It made him look cute if it's from a tears of joy."Y-you are ! You are a decent person! You know it's not your f-fault! You were d-drugged a-and I... I was drunk! W-we both know we weren't in o-our right minds! You never hurted me—!" He starts hiccuping. "You're a-a good person! W-what happened between that night s-should b-be buried! Y-you're a good friend! It's not your fault! It's not your f-fault!" With that he burst into tears.

You didn't expect for him to cry. You panic mentally. What should you do on these type of situations? You pull him for a hug—albeit stiffeningly."Ok... Ok... Don't cry.... I don't like it... When you cry.. I'm sorry." You told him honestly, truthfully this is not the first time he argued about the incident with you.

You still feel ashamed of yourself. You really do.

The party. If only you didn't come to your friend's party. The guilt won't eat you. No matter how many times Micah convinced you that none of it was your fault. You feel like you can't face him. He did say he was also drunk at the time but still... You could have gotten home earlier and didn't force yourself on him.

You cried and apologised so many times from him at that time, swearing you will turn yourself over to the police and never let him see your face again. You saw how his whole body was full of marks, hickeys, and bruises. He look like he got ravage. His clothes were thorn and you wish the drug in your system that time killed you.

Micah's eyes light up and a smirk forming from his lips as he nuzzle his face on your neck, pretending to cry even more. Everything is planned, everything worked for him to get you under his palm. He can feel the guilt eating you.

"... it's okay... Hik... " He sob sneaking in to kiss your neck. You are to busy awkwardly and hesitantly patting his back and hugging him and the man love every second of it.

From the moment you save him from jumping off the bridge, he needed to make you his. Someone who genuinely cares for him from this greedy world is something he needed to treasure.

Oh how he had you wrap around his fingers the moment you accepted that drug-disguise juice from one of his friends offered by the man himself. It's your fault.

It doesn't matter. You're under his palm forever. Everything is 100% perfect.

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the-kingshound · 1 day ago

Note

I loved the update just because it exists. I loved the bit with the mounts (especially Arthur's trying to ground MC) but my tiny bit of concrit is the "I know you're a mage" convo feels...shoehorned? Like we get the panic attack and Arthur just says he doesn't think the same way as Uther and it's just...It feels (imo) that the Hound once more just accepts Arthur at face value again? I loved the rewrite making the Hound more wary of Arthur, and this kinda felt like a slip? Idk it just feels like there could be...more there. Or perhaps Arthur will try to revisit the topic? Cause like idk about you but if I was just told "I don't want to do anything to you buuuuuut people in my court might," I'd feel threatened and like...I wouldn't believe a single word prior to the "my court might" part. Cause like the Hound is a political prisoner, the nobles (Our sister in law is amazing) made that clear, so it's just another chain Arthur is adding, a little "Be careful love, you don't know what SOMEONE might do if they found out you're a mage :) :)", you know?

And as someone who played as a Hound who is absolutely dreading this marriage (they literally feel like a prisoner) that whole thing kinda felt as if that wasn't an option? Like for example, the walking into the church thingy you have: I feel better, I'm not alone, and the "I am strong and proud" options, but no real option for...just numb? I personally just headcanoned the Hound was disassociated to the point they won't remember the day at all. (I kinda hope we might just get to breakdown with our brothers, or idk alone in the dark)

Also I forget, but is this a game where we have to rack up romance points to lock in? Or one we choose the route? Because I honestly didn't feel that my Hound would want to talk to anyone during what is (to them) a celebration of their collaring/house's defeat.

BUUUUT I truly do hope you take this as constructive. You won't please all of us, and you shouldn't try to. I love that you gave us even this and you are incredibly strong and lovely for pushing through everything. If I am out of line, feel free to ignore or tell me off and I'll just smash my Hound into a better mold for the story lol. After all, it is your story, tell it how you want.

I would really like to give you a long response to your very helpful feedback, but I fear I am lacking the energy to do so. I just want you to know that I hear you, and in truth you make really good points.

1) yeah I do admit I was getting close to burnout with writing in this update, and that scene in particular might have suffered for it. I'll revise it, and hopefully try to not make the interaction feel so jarring. (Note: did you try to pick the more... aggressive option? It goes in a different way, maybe it is less weird?)

2) you are totally right on the options for the marriage - especially because you can play a very numb MC. I'll either edit or add that option. Ohh and the breakdown with the siblings is peak idea. I'm writing that down.

3) as for the romance points: this game is focused strongly on MC. You can choose the pace of the relationship your Hound develops, and for romance, you need to first have some platonic points with said RO. Platonic means in this case that MC wants to spend time with them, and doesn't have to go further than what will become a lifelong friendship.

You do have to pick at least an option to have platonic points with a RO, but you won't get locked out of anything in this game. Every choice shapes your personal Hound's story, this is not a game that punishes you, or that is focused solely on romance.

Thank you for sending this in! This kind of feedback, especially if worded clearly and kindly lik you did, can be so helpful and I love getting it even if it makes me pause and rethink some things.

#ask

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thechthonicherbalist · 1 day ago

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It's 1pm. The day is barely half over and I have already been hit deep in the feels. 😭💕😭💕😭💕 @medievalfantasyqueen Looookkkk 🥺

Also to the author and person who reblogged this: Perfect. Amazing summary. Bless you both. 🥺🙏 My darlings Lestat and Nicki. 🥺 I need to hear more things like this. I want to have more conversations like this. It makes me want to write again, just a little bit, because look at all this love they had and how cruelly it was taken from them. 😭 And I mean, I do love other ships with Lestat as well. Louistat. Lestat/his creator. (Yes, even now.) But Nicki/Lestat will always have a special place in my heart. And I'm ngl. Nicki and Lestat's story frequently had me bawling my eyes out for the past 13 years for some very personal reasons tied to a deep loss. I just want to write all my softness and love into fics about them. I'm so tired of all the pain in the world.

"louistat is the best lestat ship!" "no, it's lesmand" "no, it's davidstat" lestat and nicholas were each other's first best friend and first love. think about the countless hours they spent talking nonsense to each other, because they were the only ones who understood. even when they fought, it was all put behind with a kiss. nicki's violin calming lestat from a panic attack. they ran away to paris together with nothing but the will to prove their parents wrong. they lived on the streets, surviving with tips, but they didn't care. they started living in a bad house in a bad neighborhood. but they didn't care because they drank wine and slept together every night. lestat wanted distance from nicki when he became a vampire, so he wouldn't hurt him. as soon as lestat got the money from magnus castle, he gave nicki a shit ton of money, a new house, violin classes, and a new expensive violin. but nicki didn't care because all he could think of was if lestat was well or not. lestat didn't care about armand and the coven, but went there as soon as he knew nicki was being held captive. armand was jealous of the love lestat gave to nicki. lestat transformed nicki into a vampire because he was too afraid to lose him. even when they weren't in speaking terms, lestat gave nicki the theater of vampires. lestat went under the dirt when he knew nicki killed himself. he went under the dirt with the violin he gave nicki. the first reason lestat fell for louis and antoine (maybe even quinn) was because they remembered nicki, both in appearance and personality. hell, he made antoine into a nicki carbon copy. lestat never forgot nicholas. there will always be, playing in the back of his mind, the sound of nicholas violin.

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sasheemo · 2 days ago

Text

When We Collide

Chapter 14

Chapter Summary: You wake to Agatha's unsettling yet impossibly grounding presence, unspoken questions threatening to unravel a fragile moment. And just like that, walls begin to crack.

Word Count: 2.8k

A/N (very long, sorryyy): I still can’t believe it, but here we are. After exactly one month since the last chapter was published, I’m officially back! I can’t promise the creative block I’ve been struggling with for When We Collide is completely gone, but I’m really trying, and I’m so happy to continue this story.

Before you dive in, I just want to take a moment to make a small dedication:

Over the past week, I’ve received an overwhelming amount of love and support that I never expected. Moots, strangers, and even anonymous readers stepped forward in the comments of my update posts on Tumblr or slid into my DMs to show their appreciation and encouragement. You know who you are. It’s because of all of you that, in just over 24 hours, I managed to write an entire chapter after being stuck for a whole month. You gave me an incredible boost of energy and motivation. So, this chapter is for you. To my moots, followers, and each dedicated reader of When We Collide. To everyone who messaged me privately or left a comment on a post or a fic. To those who, even without reaching out directly, have always supported me with their thoughts and good vibes, waiting patiently for an update and never abandoning this story. What you’ve done, and continue to do, for me is amazing. You’ve filled me with so much love and support, and I truly hope this chapter (and the ones to come—yes, they’re coming, hehe) can serve as a proper thank-you.

It’s true that writing should primarily be for yourself, but when you receive this kind of support and encouragement, it becomes something truly special to write for others too.

Let me know what you think of the chapter, and thank you from the bottom of my heart! 💜

PS: Spoiler—I literally felt my heart break while writing a certain piece of dialogue. Had to pause, pick up the pieces, and keep going. Sorry y’all, I couldn’t resist 💔

Chapter Index

Read on AO3

You stir awake to the faint glow of the early afternoon, the light filtering softly through the edges of the curtains. For a brief, suspended moment, your mind lingers in the haze of sleep, the kind where nothing feels quite real, and you’re not entirely sure where you are. Then the weight registers.

The warm, undeniable weight of someone pressed against you.

Your breath catches, your body locking in place as you become acutely, painfully aware of Agatha’s head resting on your shoulder.

Her dark hair brushes against your neck, faintly ticklish, while her arm lies draped across your waist.

You don’t dare move. Not even a twitch.

Every nerve in your body stands at attention, screaming for you to do something. But you lie there, frozen, your heart hammering so loudly you’re sure it’ll wake her. The thought of turning your head to look at her fills you with a mixture of terror and curiosity, and you’re too paralyzed to face either.

You try—really try—to focus on the practicalities. How did this even happen? You’d climbed into bed hours ago, stiff as a board, determined to keep your distance. You’d stayed on your side, curled up awkwardly, staring at the wall like it held the answers to every question you were too afraid to ask.

But then sleep had come. Or at least something like it—a restless tangle of half-dreams and unconscious movements, shifting and turning under the weight of the night’s tension.

At some point, the gap between you must have closed. At some point, her arm must have found its way across you.

A thousand excuses rush through your mind, each more fragile than the last, as if rationalizing the moment could make the closeness disappear. But they all crumble, leaving behind one undeniable truth: you don’t want to move. Not really.

You tell yourself it’s fear. Fear of waking her. Fear of the look on her face if she realized the position you’re in. Confusion? Annoyance? Disgust? The thought twists your stomach into painful knots. But beneath the fear, another emotion lingers, quieter and far more dangerous.

It feels… good.

You hate how much you notice it, how your senses seem to betray you with every passing second. The softness of her hair brushing your neck, the heat of her body radiating against your side, the faint pressure of her arm resting on you—it all feels far too natural, far too easy, like some cruel joke the universe decided to play.

You squeeze your eyes shut, willing yourself to move, to shift, to put some distance between you. But your body doesn’t listen. You’re too hyper-aware of every tiny detail, of how close she is, of how safe she feels.

A shaky exhale escapes you, your chest rising just enough to disturb the delicate stillness between you. Agatha stirs slightly in her sleep, a soft sound escaping her lips as her arm tightens instinctively around you.

Your heart practically leaps into your throat.

You swallow hard, trying to convince yourself that this is normal. That there’s nothing strange or inappropriate about lying here like this. That it doesn’t mean anything. That it’s just an accident, a coincidence. That’s all.

It’s fine. Everything is fine. Except it’s not.

Because no matter how much you want to believe that this is accidental, that she’s completely unaware, a small, traitorous part of you wonders what it would mean if she wasn’t.

You try to focus on the ceiling, on the faint creak of the house settling around you, on anything other than her. But it’s impossible. Because no matter how still you stay, no matter how hard you try to quiet your thoughts, Agatha’s presence fills every corner of the room—and every corner of you.

Your breath hitches as you finally, finally let yourself turn your head. It’s tentative at first, a small, hesitant shift of movement.

Your chin almost brushes her forehead, and the nearness of her—so close you could count the faint freckles scattered across her skin—leaves you utterly undone.

For a moment, you can’t think, can’t breathe. The sight of her like this, her face so close to yours, is enough to send your thoughts spiraling.

Your gaze moves carefully, tracing her features as if each one might dissolve into smoke if you looked too quickly.

Sharp and soft. The words loop in your mind like a mantra, and you can’t stop staring. The sharp lines of her jaw and cheekbones, the delicate curve of her lips—they blend danger and allure in a way that leaves you off-balance, like she was never meant to be anything less than both.

Your let your thoughts drift, unbidden, to what you know about her. And, perhaps more troubling, to what you don’t.

You’ve spent all your life in the same coven, shared the same spaces, breathed the same air, yet she’s always been distant. A figure just out of reach, admired and feared in equal measure by most.

You sift through your memories, trying to piece together fragments, to make sense of the person sprawled across you now.

Everyone has been speaking of Agatha’s power in hushed tones since you were children—the raw, unpredictable force of her magic. How it brims with potential but defies control. Even the older witches have always been wary of her, watching her like a storm poised on the horizon.

And then there’s the story. The one no one speaks of outright but that lingers in fragments, carried around by rumors and half-truths.

It was just over a couple of years ago. One of the daughters of your mother’s friends—a girl you barely knew, though her name still echoes through the village homes and halls—was found dead in the woods. Cold, lifeless. Drained.

The whispers said it was Agatha.

They claimed she had taken the girl’s power, siphoned it like a flame devouring a candlewick. That she left her there, alone in the woods, to die.

But that girl wasn’t just anyone. She was Agatha’s best friend.

The rumors painted it as a calculated act of power, a way to send a message and solidify her place as the rightful heir to the coven’s legacy. They said her magic demanded sacrifice, and she hadn’t hesitated to give one.

But that version of the story never sat right with you.

Even more so now, with Agatha asleep beside you, her head resting on your shoulder, her breathing slow and even in sleep. The idea of this Agatha—the Agatha who clings to you in her slumber—being the monster the rumors describe feels impossible to reconcile.

You’ve always wondered if there was more to the story. If the truth had been buried beneath layers of fear, jealousy, and Evanora’s carefully orchestrated manipulations.

Because if there’s one thing you know about Evanora Harkness, it’s that she’d burn the truth to ashes to protect her image.

The slow rise and fall of your chest brushes faintly against Agatha’s arm, jolting you back to the present. You exhale shakily, your gaze locking once again on her face.

She looks so… harmless. The thought slips into your mind unbidden, and you can’t stop yourself from clinging to it. Here, now, in your bed, tangled against you, she does look harmless. Innocent, even.

And yet… the stories remain. The danger, the sharpness, the fury—it’s still there, lurking just beneath her momentary serene exterior.

You should move. You really should. Break the moment, pull away, regain the distance you’re supposed to have. But you don’t. You can’t. Because for all the danger and mystery that surrounds Agatha Harkness, there’s something else, too.

Something that keeps you rooted in place, your gaze drinking her in, feeling her presence in every breath you take.

The stillness is interrupted by a faint shift. Agatha stirs against you, her body shifting slightly as her fingers twitch where her hand rests near your waist. Her breathing changes, no longer the even, steady rhythm of sleep but something shallower, more conscious.

You freeze, your own breath caught in your chest. Her head lifts just a fraction before settling again, her hair brushing against your neck in a way that sends an involuntary shiver down your spine. For one agonizing moment, you wonder if she’ll pull away.

But she doesn’t.

Instead, Agatha lets out a soft exhale, her lashes fluttering as her eyes blink open, slow and heavy with sleep. There’s a beat—a single, suspended second where her gaze adjusts, flitting from the faint light of the room to you.

Her arm remains draped across your waist, though her fingers flex slightly, testing their place. Her lips twitch, just barely, into something resembling a smirk.

“Is this how you treat all your guests, or am I just special?” she murmurs, her voice husky and rough from sleep, the teasing lilt sharp enough to make your stomach flip.

The words pull you from your haze of panic into full-blown mortification, heat rising to your face as you open your mouth, then close it, scrambling for a response.

“You—you asked me to stay!” you stammer, your voice breaking as you shift just a little, glaring at her. “Don’t twist this into—”

Agatha cuts you off with an expression so faux-innocent you want to scream, her tone light but laced with mockery.

“Did I?” she muses, her brow quirking as though she’s genuinely pondering it. “Hmm. Doesn’t sound like me.”

Your jaw drops.

Your heart hasn’t stopped pounding since she stirred, and her smirk only makes it worse. The audacity, the smugness. She’s so calm, like waking up tangled together is just another morning for her.

For you? It’s a waking nightmare—or at least, that’s the excuse you cling to as you try to suppress the heat that is completely taking hold of your whole body. Your fists clench at your sides, and your frustration boils over.

“You did! You said—” you stop yourself, huffing in exasperation as her smirk turns into a full-blown grin. “Ugh, you’re impossible.”

“And you’re far too fun to annoy.” she counters shifting slightly, her arm sliding away from your waist as she props herself up on one elbow.

You bite back another retort, your face burning as you turn your head to look anywhere but at her. She’s infuriating. Smug and sharp-tongued and—close. Too close.

The silence stretches for a beat, and you take a deep breath, willing yourself to calm down.

It doesn’t help that she’s still watching you, her gaze a quiet weight against your skin. You can feel it without looking—how her smirk lingers, how her eyes flicker between amusement and something unreadable.

She shifts again, finally breaking the silence.

“Well,” she says softly, her voice still carrying that teasing lilt, “if this is how you handle all your guests, I can’t imagine they stay very long.”

Your breath hitches, and you glance at her despite yourself, catching the faintest flicker of something beneath her grin. She’s teasing, sure—but there’s an edge to it, a quiet discomfort she’s trying to mask.

You huff again, crossing your arms and refusing to let her get the last word. “Maybe they don’t. But you did ask me to stay, so if you have complaints, take it up with yourself.”

Her grin softens slightly, but she doesn’t respond. Instead, she leans back a little, her hand brushing against the blanket as she rests her weight on her palm. Her gaze flickers briefly to the window, her expression almost thoughtful.

You watch her for a moment, your own irritation ebbing away as curiosity takes its place. She’s still infuriating, still impossible—but there’s something else, too. Something quieter.

You should let it go. The tension, the moment—it’s already too much and you both literally just woke up. But the question lodges itself in your throat, unspoken words buzzing like a swarm. You don’t even mean to say it. It just… slips out. “What really happened that day?”

Agatha’s head tilts slightly, her eyes cutting back to yours in a sharp, measured motion.

“What?” she asks, her tone casual, but there’s a sudden wariness in her gaze, the edge of a blade being drawn.

You hesitate, regretting the words almost immediately, but it’s too late now.

“The girl.” you clarify, your voice quieter than you intended. “The one they say you… killed.”

The room seems to still, the air shifting as the words settle between you.

Agatha doesn’t move, her expression unreadable, but the flicker of something raw flashes behind her eyes—a shadow that vanishes almost as quickly as it appears.

Her lips curve into a smirk that doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

“Really?” she drawls, leaning back slightly, the picture of feigned nonchalance. “That’s what you want to talk about? Here? Now?”

Your stomach twists at the sharpness of her tone, but you don’t look away.

“I just…” You pause, choosing your words carefully. “I just want to know the truth.”

Agatha lets out a soft, bitter laugh, shaking her head as she looks away again.

“The truth…” she mutters, her voice low, almost mocking. “You’re the first person to actually ask me for it, you know?”

The words hit you like a slap, leaving you momentarily speechless.

“Wait.” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. “No one’s ever—?”

“No.” Agatha cuts in sharply, her tone laced with dry amusement that barely conceals the bitterness beneath.“Why would they? They already think they know. They don’t need my version.”

She scoffs, her lips curling into a sardonic smirk.

Your chest tightens painfully at the words, the weight of what she’s said settling over you like a heavy fog. If no one’s ever asked for her version of the story, if no one’s cared enough to hear the truth… then everything you’ve heard—the whispers, the rumors, the stories—might not be true. Or at least, not entirely.

Agatha’s gaze flickers back to you, piercing and unreadable, as if she can sense where your thoughts are heading.

“I know what they say.” she continues, her voice quieter now, colder. “Some of it’s lies, some of it’s not.”

Your breath catches, her words hanging between you like a challenge, daring you to press further. And you do.

“But if not all of it’s true…” you ask, your voice trembling slightly, “… then why?”

You hesitate, the question twisting in your chest before it finally escapes. “Why do you let them believe those things about you, hmm?”

That stops her cold.

Her gaze locks on you, her expression sharp and unyielding, but there’s something flickering beneath the surface—something fragile and dangerous and far too human.

For a moment, you swear you see something shatter behind the mask she wears so flawlessly. And when she finally speaks, her whispered answer tears through the silence like thunder.

“Because the truth is too awful.”

The words hang in the air, and for a moment, all you can do is stare at her. The rawness in her voice, the vulnerability she so desperately tries to hide, steals the breath from your lungs.

But you don’t back down. Not now.

“Maybe.” you say quietly, your voice softening but steady. “But I don’t think it’s worse than the lies, than the stories people tell.”

Her head tilts slightly, her eyes narrowing as she studies you. The tension in her shoulders doesn’t ease, but there’s something in her gaze—a flicker of hesitation, of consideration.

“You’re persistent.” she mutters, the edge returning to her voice, though it’s quieter now.

“And you’re exhausting.” you reply, trying to keep your tone casual despite the knot in your chest tightening with every passing second. “But since it looks like we’re stuck together—and you’re literally in my bed—you might as well tell me.”

You know the truth, though: you’re not really stuck together. Agatha could leave anytime she wanted—she’s clever, resourceful, and probably already thought of four different ways to slip out unnoticed, if she needed or wanted to.

But you also suspect that getting Agatha Harkness to open up requires more than simple patience. She needs to feel cornered—not with malice, but with intent. She has to know that someone is paying attention, that someone cares enough to ask, and that walking away won’t make the questions disappear. So you hold her gaze, refusing to let the moment slip away.

Agatha exhales sharply, the sound laced with frustration as she rubs a hand over her face. For a long, agonizing moment, you think she might retreat entirely. But then her hand falls, and she looks at you again.

And just like that, the walls begin to crack.

#agatha harkness x reader #agatha harkness x you #agatha harkness x female reader #agatha x reader #agatha x you #agatha x y/n #agatha harkness fanfic #agatha all along fanfic #aaa fanfic #when we collide

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darnell-la · 15 hours ago

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A MANS GAME

summary: Eddie’s mind instantly went wild when he saw a woman prancing around like she loved bands and board games. when that same woman asked him to sell her weed, she couldn’t help but think he wasn’t being set up by the one and only Jason Carver. if y/n thought she could humiliate Eddie, and make him look like a fool, she was wrong. he was going to show her that.

warnings: misogyny, hate, delusion, drug deal, drug use, planned trap, semi kidnapping, unconstitutional drugging, unconstitutional fingering, SA, slight BDSM, rough sex, baby trapping, etc

note: hey... this is another requested dark-themed story, but with Eddie Munson who our number one fans know we’re obsessed with. do not read if CNC/SA makes you uncomfortable!

If you like dark-themed stories, follow our account @dark-authorr. Request us anything!

———

“And, what exactly is she wearing?” Eddie asked as he saw the new girl pass with a gamer shirt, that he’s never seen before, only rarely. “I think it’s some kind of game. Don’t know exactly,” Dustin said, not really paying attention to her.

“So girls like games now? Hm,” Eddie sarcastically said, eying y/n through the hallway as people complimented her style. “Yeah, which is hot, actually,” Mike said, making Eddie roll his eyes.

In his years of living, he has never met a girl who genuinely liked games, unless they had a boyfriend. She was new to the school, so there was no way she had one. He wouldn’t believe it if she said she was long-distance.

“Isn’t that, like, all you’ve been looking for? Or are you still on Christy? — She’s never gonna leave Jason Carver, dude. Especially not for you! No offense,” Sinclair said. “None taken,” Eddie said, knowing Sinclair was right.

For the rest of the day, Eddie’s eyes had been opened every time y/n walked by, stalking and watching her every move. There was just someone about her that he didn’t like.

He swore she was just another preppy, stuck-up girl who would do anything to get a little attention.

“Hey, uh, Eddie?” Y/n asked, now in front of his face. He had zoned out. “Yeah?” He asked quickly, hoping she wasn’t here to ask what his problem was for watching her every move.

“I heard you sell, and I just left Cali. You wouldn’t mind selling me anything, right? I-I have extra if you’re afraid I’ll tell,” y/n said, watching how Eddie’s eyes widen.

When she looked at him, she couldn’t stop but think how amazing he was. She barely saw men like this around in Hawkins.

“Sure, but, I gotta ask — Do you even smoke? Or is this like a, I wanna fit in, thing?” He asked, making her giggle at his thought process. “I really smoke, hun,” she smiled, flashing diamonds that were glued to her teeth. She was truly into what she dressed like, but, Eddie couldn’t seem to believe it.

“Hm, well, I’ve got some at the crib. Maybe stop by later tonight? My uncles outta town so, any late times doesn’t matter to me,” Eddie said, getting a dark feeling in the back of his mind, but he slightly ignored it.

“That’s fine with me,” y/n said before she slowly walked off after giving one last smile. “Yeah, we’ll see if you’re genuine, girly,” Eddie said under his breath, convincing himself that she had to be some kind of setup.

Eddie had horrible overthinking problems. No one throughout his whole high school career liked him, so why, now that he’s in college, would a girl randomly know he sells weed and would want some from him.

“Dude, you good? Looks like she’s got your tongue,” Sinclair said, making Eddie laugh loudly. “Her? Oh, Jesus, no — A girl like that is just a plant to see if I’d fall for it,” Eddie spoke, sounding delusional as always.

“What do you mean, plant?” Mike asked. “You see, she just had a class with Jason, and I saw them talking. I bet you he’s setting me up by swinging a girl like that my way,” Eddie said, truly believing what he was saying.

“And, how would he possibly set you up, Eds? She doesn’t even look like she’d do something like that to you. A stranger!” Dustin said as he rolled his eyes, tired of him seeing everything as some trap.

“Oh, but I bet, she would. You see, a girl like that doesn’t exist. I bet you tonight, she’ll come over, make some move then leave before we get to do anything, then tell the whole school how I thought someone finally liked me,”

The younger men looked at each other, confused about why Eddie was acting this way. She was nice. They barely hear that around here, and he’s always shutting her down.

“Okay, man, whatever you say,” Sinclair said before he walked off with his basketball team that had just passed. “You need to work on yourself dude,” Dustin said. “Seriously,” Mike added.

It’s currently late at night, almost so late, that Eddie thought she wouldn’t show up. That was until he heard a knock on his front door.

Eddie got up from his and made his way to the front. He had a few things to ask y/n to test out what kind of person she was.

“Hey, I’m sorry I’m late,” y/n said as she walked in after Eddie stepped aside. “No problem, I was just looking at the band you have in your shirt, and I was curious,” Eddie got straight into it.

“This band? Oh, yeah, they’re kind of my favorite,” y/n smiled. “Ah huh — I realized they don’t really do music. They’re more into book writing,” Eddie said, which was correct.

“Yep, that's how I got into them. I love reading, and when I found out they had music, that was even better,” she said, making him chuckle low. “So you like sec?” He asked, making her laugh.

“Oh, uh- Yeah. Yes, I do,” she said as he scanned her figure. He hadn’t gotten a great look at her today, but now he did. Her body was more banging than he had thought.

“Hm, you into all that stuff they talk about? I mean, my bands are freaks, I’ve never seen one like yours. Especially with girls in them,” he said.

Y/n usually never felt off about talking about who she liked to watch and listen to, but there was something about the way Eddie came off, that made her feel weird.

“I guess, but I’m not really down to talk about that,” y/n said, warning Eddie that she was getting uncomfortable. “Oh, what are my manners- I’m sorry — Let’s get you your purchase,” Eddie said as he guided her to the back where his room was located.

Eddie stood to the side after he opened the door, looking at her for her reaction that he’d been waiting for all night.

Once y/n stepped into his room, her eyes slightly widened at his layout. She knew he was a metalhead, but she didn’t expect all of these sexual toys to be laid out. Some even looked fresh from the store.

“Over here — I’ve got a couple of pre-rolls, and this new hash I kind of whipped up myself, that’s It’s free. I want to see how my first costume feels about it,” Eddie said as he guided her to his bed.

The young man picked up this new roll-up he had made and handed it to the young woman. “Oh, I wasn’t planning on smoking now,” y/n said. “C’mon — Just one hit. I wanna make sure it at least smells, and tastes good,”

Y/n felt a bit off, but she didn’t want to shame the man. She knew he barely had people over, so she accepted what he was giving.

“Fine,” she smiled as she took the lighter that Eddie had lifted up to give her. “Sit down and get a little comfortable,” Eddie suggested as she hopped in his bed, and pat the spot next to him.

Y/n softly sat next to the man, ready to see what he’s created. She wanted to be a nice help, so she quickly lit the joint and took a hard hit.

She coughed a bit, not knowing it would be this strong. It barely had a taste of weed, more like something else that she couldn’t place her hand on.

“Take a few more,” Eddie pressured. “I don’t really think-“ y/n tried saying. “Hey — Just a few more, and I’ll even cut the price,” Eddie said, knowing exactly where he was going with everything.

Y/n took a deep slow breath before she took another hit. She didn’t exactly want to, but she’s driven a bit high before. She should be fine.

Y/n took another hit, each puff getting more smoke in her lungs, making it hard for her to feel what was happening.

“Feels good?” Eddie asked as he placed a hand on her thigh. “Actually does,” y/n said, surprised that she felt the high so fast. “Wanna know what’s in it, princess?” He asked, making her nod as she took another long drag.

“I knew you like California weed, so I put some pure hashish in the roll,” Eddie said as he rubbed her thigh, getting closer to her heat that she barely noticed. She felt him but didn’t say anything.

“Yeah, and you wanna know what else?” He asked as his free hand slowly moved up to her face, so he could rub at her cheek. “What?” Y/n asked low as she turned his way, feeling her eyes get extremely heavy.

“For the fun ride, I sprinkled a bit of opioids and benzodiazepine, just to get you a little woozy,” Eddie smiled, knowing that would trigger her brain. “What?” She wanted to sound more upset, but she couldn’t.

“I-I’ve gotta go,” the young woman said as she tried getting up, but she was too weak. “Why? I thought you liked it here? The room was decorated just for you,” Eddie said as he slowly reached under her skirt.

“No,” was all y/n could let out when she felt him pull her panties to the side. “What was that, princes?” Eddie asked as he leaned into her face, wanting to see and hear her struggle.

“No,” she breathed out as a tear rolled down her eyes. “And, why is that? I thought these half-high fishnets were meant for foreplay,” Eddie chuckled as he slowly pushed a ringed finger into her cunt.

“N-No,” y/n stuttered, saying that word too many times for him to keep going. “Just relax, princess — I thought you liked it kinky? I bought the chains, the gags, the toys, and the drugs. Wasn’t one song called, drug me? I assumed that would be your favorite,”

Eddie had pushed another ringed finger into y/n as he leaned down to her neck and began sucking on a few spots. There was no way he wouldn’t get what Jason set him up for.

Eddie still believed she came here just to humiliate him. He didn’t regret setting this up for her. She deserved it for what he thought she was going to put him through.

“Eddie?” Y/n choked on her cry as her walls fluttered around his fingers. “Oh, no, no — You don’t get to cum yet,” Eddie said as he pulled out of her, and pushed her down into his bed.

“You’re gonna let me fill you up first — Then maybe you can cum on my face while I eat out your overstimulated pussy,”

Eddie sounded evil to y/n. His voice echoed through her mind like a nightmare, but she couldn’t yell at him like she wanted to. She couldn’t fight him like she wanted to.

“I’m gonna tie your arms behind your back, somehow tie your legs so they’re forced open, then gag you before I get started,”

Eddie didn’t lie and did just that in under five minutes. He had looked up videos and learned quick. She should feel special for what he’s doing for her, since this is what she likes, after all.

“Tied you down for a little, and you’re already soaked, Jesus Christ,” Eddie teased as he played with her folds, watching his juice spill out of her hole that he could’ve sworn gripped a few times around air.

“You want me, don’t you? Even if this was all a joke for Jason, you actually want me, and not him — You could've just asked me, princess. I would’ve still rocked your world, but I guess you wanted it rougher,”

Eddie happily pulled himself out of his jeans, and stroked, seeing he had already been leaking pre-cum. She was too hot to be this hard already.

“You knew wearing that would catch my attention at school. Fuck, y/n, you’re just some being else — I haven’t even fucked you yet,” Eddie was surprised at how he felt about y/n in under twenty-four hours.

“I’m gonna make you mine, princess. Being pregnant in college isn’t too bad right? Wasn’t one of the female singers pregnant in college too?” Eddie asked the slightly uncomfortable woman as he slowly pushed at her entrance.

“Doesn’t matter — You’d look amazing with my kids. I’ll give you more than one — That’ll show Jason not to mess with me again,”

Eddie had gone too delusional by now. He thought that impregnated y/n would make Jason upset that his plan didn’t work, or show y/n that playing with a man isn’t a good idea.

“E-Eddie,” y/n cried low as he filled her with every inch. He wasted no time to begin his thrust and taunt y/n for her moans that she couldn’t hold back. He was huge and reached every good area y/n couldn’t even reach with her toys.

“You like it? C’mon, baby, tell me you like it. I’ll be fuckin’ you every day to show you who I am. If you thought you could make a fool out of me, then you were wrong, princess. So fuckin’ wrong. I’ll show you,”

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speed-world · 3 days ago

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Hello i am Engineer Anon. I humbly request that if you can do a Baker reader.

The Baker meets Stormbringer Cookie and her Sky Deities, and I want to see there thoughts on the Baker, like their thought on when they first encounter eachother and how they grow closer to the Eachother.

From- Engineer Anon🔧

Stormbringer Cookie wasn’t shaken when she first met you; in fact she was incredibly interested. It can be dangerous for a cookie to come face to face with a Baker, but it’s not an issue in the slightest for Stormbringer. She’ll say how fortunate you are to meet the Sky God, and will bless you with a very small spectacle of her prowess (it’s still an incredible sight in spite of it being a sliver at a look of her power).

She wasn’t expecting to see you after your first encounter; she figured you’d be busy creating other cookies while she’s handling the creation of Life Powder. However, she would be lying if she said she wasn’t a little curious to know more about you…

You both share a few stories about one another, giving each other more insight to some of the responsibilities you both have. Despite being a god, it seemed that there are a few things that even Stormbringer could learn from another being. Let it be a Baker to introduce her to another side of life, and Stormbringer doesn’t complain!

Stormbringer figured it wouldn’t be a problem to introduce you to the cookies she created. After all, you showed her your creations, so why not return the favor! You were amazed that the other cookies she created weren’t like what you baked, because she created other deities (almost) like herself!

Cloud Deity Cookie was surprised when you two first met. He considered himself fortunate to meet you - different from what Stormbringer was like - and is curious to know how you were able to so easily befriend Stormbringer Cookie!

You were curious seeing how his creation of clouds contributed to the cycle of life powder; which surprised him since he figured it wasn’t as impressive as what you-a Baker-can do. After seeing a display of the various things he could do by manipulating the clouds, you would only applaud in awe, which made him lightly blush from the cheering.

You two grew incredibly close as Cloud Deity Cookie learned more about your process of baking cookies. You offered the idea of borrowing some of the clouds he makes for your own recipes, which he almost immediately said yes to-…if it weren’t for the Great Sky God immediately rejecting the notion.

Wind Deity Cookie was stand off-ish at your first encounter, practically doing everything they could to ignore your presence. They didn’t have any hostile feelings to you, don’t get the wrong idea, they were just confused as to why you were here. A baker going out of their way to meet cookies? Did you have something you weren’t telling them?

After seeing how Stormbringer accepted you, which is almost uncharacteristic of her, Wind Deity would reluctantly accept you too. They admittedly liked your stories of baking cookies, and were curious to know how a baker’s process of making cookies differed from Stormbringer’s. Some of the cookies you mentioned and described sounded like some cookies Wind Deity saw before, which made them even more interested!

You were excited to see how comfortable Stormbringer Cookie and Wind Deity Cookie were together, which you totally teased Wind Deity about. They weren’t super happy when you did tease them, but Wind Deity let it slide as they knew Stormbringer was fine with the teasing. After all, Stormbringer would only tease you about some of your stories, which would make Wind Deity and you share a laugh!

Rain Deity Cookie is as welcoming as she is intrigued by you. It makes sense that a baker would meet deity cookies out of any others, but it was still a wonder as to why you would.

She thinks you’re quite incredible for what you do: making unique cookies isn’t easy at all. After all, she only contributes to one part of the process of making life powder, whereas you go through adding life powder to baking specialized cookies with several different recipes and ingredients! You think she’s even more incredible with her rain giving life powder to the earth, and she’s doing everything she can to hide her flushed face.

You both used your talents together as the cookies you baked would dance in the rain she created. It was a lovely spectacle that made you both want to create a whole show combining your abilities! Of course, it would have to be green-lit by Stormbringer first, but you enjoyed seeing how your creations interacted with the deities in a neat way!

#cookie run kingdom #crk x reader #cookie run kingdom x reader #cookie run x reader #cr kingdom #crk #cookie run #stormbringer cookie #stormbringer cookie x reader #wind deity cookie #wind deity cookie x reader #cloud deity cookie #cloud deity cookie x reader #rain deity cookie #rain deity cookie x reader

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vifilms · 3 days ago

Text

i’m sick as fuck. ennalove, you’ve really outdone yourself with this one. the master of imagery, this solidified it. mel may have been the painter but you have illustrated this story so vividly with your strong affirmations of grace and love. the tone for this story beat the same with each word. all of it cohesive, every sentence tied to the next. truly, there’s never a time where i don’t enjoy your work.

seeing sevika painted in such a wonderful light, a soft light with comforting hues but you can still feel the rawness of everything and everyone she’s most. even if it is for the greater good and for the people of zaun, her home has changed — her life has changed. to show that struggle in the beginning, the push and pull of the tide, there’s the intertwine of canon into something even deeper. from an emotional standpoint, you seriously always knock sevika out of the park. i can hear her thoughts, i feel what she feels, her pain is as close to my heart as it is to hers. it’s intimate. i don’t think people understand how hard it is to execute that in writing. a numbing emotion can often feel thoughtless but there’s full intentionality in this and it’s felt in every word. the entire time i was reading this i just craved for more. the worlds you create in your work are stellar, sevika’s feelings don’t get lost in the shuffle and you can quite literally feel everything about them.

she’s wounded, hard but soft around the edges, she’s lost so much, and she’s ridiculed for things out of her control. the way your write sevika feels real and tangible. a woman who no longer has a home but has her heart beat for zaun and the cause she believes in even if she’s surrounded by people who don’t understand it. and they might never, and there’s heartbreaking tangibility in that feeling. it’s something all of us feel consistently. in some aspect, we can’t control circumstances out of our grip, all we can do is take our best foot forward.

…..but melvika.

the imagery and analogies between the stars and what they mean to each other? fucking amazing. how sevika says the stars is the only think she likes but then saying mel is the first person who is kind to her, the first person who appreciates her and the knowledge she has to offer. mel is sevika’s star and vice versa. maybe it’s just me but i’m just a sucker for people from completely different lives and coming together and all of it just works. it shouldn’t, it couldn’t, but somehow it does.

“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.

oh yes. this shit is so fucking good. the foreshadowing. always being present with one you love, and also — i always see them because i’m always with them — there’s so much weight in this line. there’s a thousand different ways it can be interpreted. personally it’s someone like sevika, being reserved, shy, or even cautious, not wanting to be seen or perceived because it’s never ended out well for yourself but when someone does for the first time, it’s the most beautiful thing to experience. what’s that saying? to be seen is to be loved. that’s what this little section screams to me. when someone loves you for the first time, not for a version of yourself you think you are or someone wants you to be, but they love you for you. it’s humbling, it aches, it’s more than overwhelming, but there’s nothing else like it in the world.

there’s true submission in love, and that’s where trust and partnership can blossom and grow, and that’s exactly how this fic made me feel. like there’s a blossom of hope on the other side of the tunnel. the people we love waiting on the other side for us. ready to restore a faith in humanity that we’ve lost.

always exquisite, enna. thank you for always challenging the way i write, making me see the craft in a different lense. it’s so hauntingly beautiful. as if a surgeon can suture a cracked heart back together just because they will it so. ennabear, your talent is always a pleasure to witness. i love your work so much. never stop, ever.

♡

✴︎ —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.

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.

#i may have analyzed more than anything BUT I LOVE THIS !!!!!#melvika is the only correct ship #they are perfection #this is a certified banger but everything you write is #!!!!!!#your fics always change my perspective #they are soft and vivid and light and full of love and your emotion is felt through your craft #it’s truly beautiful.#❝ ⋮ ⌗ ┆ 𝐫𝐚𝐲𝐫𝐚𝐲’𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐬 ❞

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