mel’s private chambers in piltover were a sanctuary of beauty and artistry. soft golden light filtered through intricately designed windows, casting a warm glow on the canvases and sculptures that adorned the space. it was her world, a place where she could escape the politics and expectations that weighed so heavily on her shoulders.

and in the center of it all, was you.

“stay still, darling,” mel murmured, her voice a soft command as her brush hovered over the canvas in front of her.

you smiled faintly, sitting cross legged on a chaise lounge she’d positioned just so. the silken robe she’d draped over your shoulders pooled around you like liquid gold, accentuating the soft curve of your neck and the tilt of your head. mel had insisted on every detail, down to the light catching your cheekbones at the perfect angle.

“i’m trying,” you replied, though your lips quirked into a playful smile. “but it’s hard when you’re staring at me like that.”

mel’s lips twitched, the barest hint of a smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth. “like what?” she asked, dipping her brush into a deep red pigment and sweeping it across the canvas with deliberate precision.

“like you’re trying to memorize every inch of me.”

her hand paused for a fraction of a second before she continued painting. “perhaps i am,” she admitted, her tone smooth but carrying a depth that made your heart skip a beat.