Others might say Mel simply loves you, but anyone paying attention would know it's deeper than that. Mel doesn't just love you—she worships you. To her, you're not just someone to love; you're her everything. Her reason for getting out of bed in the morning. Her inspiration. Her goddamn sanctuary. The only love she’s ever let herself have. She’d stand up to the entire Council without batting an eye if it meant keeping you safe, and you know she’d do it with that terrifyingly graceful smile of hers.

Not that you can blame her for feeling that way. You’re not exactly subtle about how you feel either. Honestly, who wouldn’t fall to their knees for someone like her? Mel is divine. In every way that matters. You feel it in the way she touches you, the way she looks at you—like she’s seeing every piece of you and cherishing it all. Like you’re her greatest treasure.

Right now, you’re sprawled out on the small couch in her private studio, half-draped in a blanket and wearing nothing but an easy smile and the glow of the afternoon sun. She’s been painting you for hours, her focus unwavering. You’ve been chatting about everything and nothing, the kind of lazy, endless conversation that only happens when you're completely comfortable with someone.

She’s standing at her easel, head tilted slightly, eyes sharp as they flit between you and the canvas. Her hands are steady, and deliberate, as she works on the final touches. “So pretty, doll,” she murmurs, her voice soft but full of awe like she’s talking to a masterpiece instead of a person. “Stay just like that, okay? I’m almost finished—just adding the little details.”