#dear mimi

[dear-mimii]

clingy!jinx x gf!reader

pairing! jinx x gf!reader

about! you’re just trying to finish tidying up your shared apartment, but poor, sleepy jinx just wants you to go to bed with her…

cw! nothing, straight fluff

word count! 415

an! this was a little self indulgent, but there’s not enough jinx appreciation! i love my blue haired terrorist🫶🏽

“jinx.”

“jinx.”

“come on jinx, i can’t clean if you’re hanging off of my leg!”

jinx had been clingy, whiny, and utterly needy all night long. you didn’t mind—you never did, and most times you found it cute. but when you were trying to get some stuff done in your shared apartment, she got in the way a bit.

“pretty please? why can’t you come to bed with me baby! im tired…” jinx whined, keeping a death grip on your thigh as you shuffled your leg to the other side of the kitchen to put some dishes away.

“i am not stopping you from sleeping, jinx. ill be there when i finish, k? and… think of it this way. if you stay clinging to my leg, it’s gonna take longer for me to finish. please babe?”

huffing and pouting, jinx reluctantly let go of her grip on your thigh, standing up and throwing her arms around your neck like wet noodles.

“fineeee. you’re lucky i love you.” with a final whine and sleepy kiss to your cheek, jinx trudged off barefoot to the bedroom.

about an hour later, the dishes were washed, laundry was being washed, and the living room was tidy—finally time to sleep. you brushed your teeth, took a shower, and changed into a silk sleep shirt and shorts. padding quietly in the bedroom, expecting to find jinx curled under the covers, asleep. nope, she was sitting up, crisscrossed, picking at her fingernails. she looked up at you and beamed, her previous boredom dissipating.

“what happened to you being tired? seriously baby, why are you still awake? you knew i was coming eventually.” you sighed, but couldn’t help but chuckle at the fact jinx stayed up all this time.

you climbed into bed next to her, already getting comfortable. but before you could get yourself situated, jinx was already climbing on top of you, spreading out like a starfish. she was just like a weighted blanket… if the weight wasn’t distributed equally and it specifically pressed against your chest. you let out a huff as her weight settled, quickly coming to terms with the fact that you wouldn’t be able to take a full breath tonight.

jinx whined, “because i sleep better with you! you’re like a big body pillow… all soft and warm…”

you made a sound—something like a strangled chuckle as you tried to tell her, “jinx, i can’t even—“

“nope. you’re all mine. you don’t need to breathe that much.”

[dear-mimii]

the tiny “terror”

pairing! (modern au) ambessa x new mother!reader

about! you’re taking a nap, the baby’s crying, and ambessa is left to fend for herself… but she surprisingly got it under control?

cw! nothing, literally just straight fluff

word count! 369

an! yes, i know i haven’t posted in a while, im sorry! but i’ll make sure to be more consistent, my birthday is on the 21st so i might post a birthday related fic!!

ambessa medarda: powerful politician. former unyielding military general.

but now? she’s terrified out of her mind by her own child. a tiny, 6 day old baby girl, who’s 5 pounds and 11 ounces.

you had just brought home your first, beautiful baby girl with ambessa 2 days ago. it had been mostly an easy recovery for you, and your tiny little baby mireya was very calm and mellow in her time at home.

ambessa however… wasn’t doing as well. you had to physically coax her to even step close to the crib while mireya was napping, telling her, “she’s not going to bite you bessa—she doesn’t even have teeth!”

but this time, poor ambessa was by herself. you were taking a well deserved nap, and mireya was fussing. crying. loudly (dramatically) crying. ambessa didn’t have the heart to wake you up, but at the same time she had no idea how to remedy her daughter's distress. she tried to recall all the times you picked her up and soothed her from crying, the way you supported the back of her head.

“it’s your child, ambessa. your… very small child.” ambessa murmured to herself, trying not to psyche herself out.

with another deep, procrastinating breath, she reached into the crib, marveling at the warmth of the tiny body. ambessa kept her hands as still as she could, putting one on the back of the child’s head and the other on her bottom. she lifted slowly, carefully, until mireya was cradled against her firm chest, and the child’s cry’s lulled.

ambessa’s lips were parted, eyes wide as mireya mostly stopped crying, opening her puffy little eyes and giggling up at ambessa.

she swore the world just stopped spinning—even existing at this moment. slowly, ambessa rocked back and forth. and she did something she never thought she’d ever do. she sang. sang a lullaby made up on the spot in a high pitched, cooing voice that would normally be humiliating.

mireya whined playfully and giggled before falling victim to the soothing lullaby, yawning cutely before closing her eyes. ambessa kissed her forehead—it wasn’t a goodbye, never that… at least not for a while. she didn’t want to put her down just yet.

[dear-mimii]

grayson x housewife!reader

pairing! grayson x housewife!reader

about! tonight you made an extra special dinner for your wife, and you simply couldn’t wait for her to come home! but… when she didn’t come home at her usual time, you began to worry…

cw! nothing really (i mean unless you are SUPER duper sensitive!)

word count! 507

an! sorry this took a while to post, lowkey procrastinated writing this…. but it’s here now, hope this is my grayson redemption arc😔

today was simply going to be perfect! it was always perfect, really. this was your domain, sanctuary, your home. you were the “mighty housewife”, as grayson so lovingly put it. you loved cooking, cleaning, sewing, that was simply your love language. and tonight you thought you nearly out-housewifed yourself. you set the table with table mats, utensils in neatly folded napkins with pink embroidery, the best plates in the house you never let anyone use. vanilla candles, champagne chilled in a bucket of ice, this was going to be a special night. was there anything inherently special about this day? not in particular. you just felt like it.

but apparently grayson didn’t get the telepathic message. everything was set up, dinner was meticulously arranged on the plate and served on the table, but there was no grayson! maybe you just started cooking earlier to account for the desserts, perfect explanation. still… sitting at the dinner table with your head in your hands, your eyes kept flickering to the clock on the stove. you tapped a rhythmless sound on your cheek, watching the numbers change.

5:10.

5:12.

5:17.

5:24… and on and on.

in an attempt to taper down your frustration, you grabbed both the plates and slipped them in the oven to keep the food warm.

you let out a chuckle, because of the irony of course? because right when you put in the plates, grayson is going to come in the door right… now! now? she’s not here.

this simply just doesn’t make sense! grayson is never late, she even says “i leave 4 minutes early to get home at the perfect time for dinner.” what if something happened? what if she went out on an assignment and some… gang of criminals kidnapped her and the other officers? what if somehow she got hurt and is in the hospital at critical condition?! well now you don’t care if you technically worked yourself up, now you had to make sure your wife is okay! you paced back and forth in front of the pink rotary phone, contemplating if you should pick up the phone and turn the dial to call the hospital.

just then, the phone on the way to your ear, you heard the sound of keys fumbling with the lock… and grayson came in. a sheepish, out of breath grin on her face. huge bouquet of buttercups, white peonies and baby’s breath.

the phone fell from your hand as you stood in shock, before running nearly full speed and tackled her. your arms flew around her neck, rocking back and forth as you embraced.

“easy, love—im here, im here. im sorry i worried you, the florist was backlogged with orders, even though i put in the order weeks ago.” grayson lifted the bouquet, explaining everything with a look that said “please forgive me.”

“you… you got these for me? oh, you—!” you sniffled, happy tears welling up. “your lucky i love you!”

and you kissed her, gentle, loving, and overall… happy.

[dear-mimii]

caitlyn kiramman x spy!reader pt. 1

pairing! sheriff!caitlyn x spy!reader

about! you get a new assignment to shadow under the sheriff: caitlyn kiramman. but you know something that she doesn’t…

cw! nothing!

word count! 392

an! i know im getting out of the habit of writing multiple parts to stories, but y’all i swearrrr this one is going to scrumptious when i finish.

you weren’t an enforcer.

far from it.

you misspoke when you said the oath. your badge was never worn with pride. the uniform?—sure, you guess. the smile? perfect? your act? flawless. it had to be flawless—which wasn’t a problem for you. because it was fabricated, your whole façade. you weren’t some wide eyed, brand new trainee who got the golden opportunity to train under the sheriff: caitlyn kiramman.

quite the opposite. in fact, you only answered to councilor sevika. her spy. her shadow. her most trusted operative.

and now? you were sent to infiltrate the enforcers, just to make sure there was no corruption or under the table deals. sevika had seen her fair share of hypocrisy working under silco, and she wasn’t going to allow it to happen again. of course, that’s where you come in! any information you pick up that was even slightly relevant, you relayed it to sevika.

you arrived at the station promptly at 9:30 AM, your boots polished without a scuff, uniform perfectly ironed, and a small notepad clutched tightly. just for the effect. walking in, you approached the front desk, with a comatose looking officer behind it, scribbling random notes. “pepping” yourself up, you walked over to the desk, tapping the tiny bell with manufactured enthusiasm.

“hello! do you know where i can find sheriff kiramman? im her new trainee!“ you beamed, earning an annoyed glance from the officer.

he grunted, jerking his head towards a pair of doors to the right. you thanked him and nearly skipped towards the doors. entering into a large, open area, you assumed that this was the main floor of the station. rows of desks lined the floor, file cabinets filled to the brim with case files, just as dull as you imagined.

your boots clicked on the tiled floor of the station, weaving between desks and officers going about their morning routines. a manufactured grin—chipper and not overly excited, just eager. that’s when you heard kiramman. you didn’t even really have to look, you were nearly certain of it. just the veil of now muted conversation, the sound of heels clicking rhythmically. before you knew it, you were basically face to face with caitlyn kiramman.

“miss…?” she asked, caitlyn’s british accent prominent and a bit authoritative.

“im a new transfer, ma’am! i believe im under your supervision?”

[dear-mimii]

love your body

pairing! newmom!sevika x bodydysmorphic!reader

cw! please PLEASE do not read this if you are someone who struggles with body dysmorphia or body image issues, because this. fic HEAVILY involves it. this was lowkey hard to write myself.

word count! 1k

an! my first fic back and it is… wow! this is like my second time writing a very (or at least to me) emotional story like this and… i mean i don’t know if this was the right one to end my hiatus but it was very interesting writing this.

your baby girl amora was beautiful. precious. you cherished her everyday since you gave birth to her, 2 and ½, nearly 3 months ago.

but there was one thing you couldn’t physically stand to look at. your body.

everyone is a bit thrown off postpartum… right? everyone bounces back soon. you were not bouncing back. your tits were perpetually swollen with breast milk, one sagged noticeably lower than the other and both were riddled with stretch marks.

every time you look past the mirror—disgusting, is what you think.

your stomach sags and stretches—much like the rest of you. you have a fold. never in a million years you thought you would have a fold of any kind. the few times you have time alone and you think about it, it’s always, “ill get everything back into place when amora gets older.” or, “it’s just a mom body… nothing working out can’t fix.”

sevika’s noticed—all of the little signs. you never got undressed in front of her—let alone in front of a mirror. you switched out your cute, silk nightgowns to oversized maternity shirts to wear to bed. whenever you showered you basically refused to look down, you just stared at the tile.

and while sevika absolutely hated that you felt that way, about the body that she loves every part of—she doesn’t know what to do. a sit down talk? a therapist? a psychiatrist? you are both dealing with this for the first time, and it’s not like there is a one stop shop cure for postpartum body dysmorphia.

postpartum body dysmorphia? could her wife—her beautiful, enchanting, goddess of a wife… genuinely think that of herself? it feels so clinical—surely it’s just some far fetched, one in a million diagnoses that you stumble upon when googling random symptoms.

for sevika it was gut-wrenching, like she wants to vomit, like somehow she could dry heave and you could love your body again.

──── ୨୧ ────

you were breastfeeding amora when sevika came tiny from grocery shopping, her human hand gripping full plastic bags. before she could look up to greet you, you had already discreetly shifted yourself on the couch so your back was facing towards the door.

“hey sweetheart, missed you.” sevika crossed the difference to the couch, leaning down to leave a peck on your cheek. her free hand—the mechanical one comes up to carefully stroke amora’s cheek, being careful not to let the sharp edge touch her brown skin. “and how’s my baby girl? she’s not giving you trouble, sweetheart?”

you just nod no with a soft smile, trying to distract yourself from the fact sevika can see the stretch marks leading to the nipple amora was suckling from. sevika straightened up a little to leave a tender kiss on your temple before reluctantly stepping away from the couch to put the groceries away.

after some time of playing with and entertaining amora, eating dinner, and eventually putting amora to bed, you had some time for yourself. which didn’t mean much to you anymore. all you did with your “me time” was sit in bed—or rather in the edge of the bed with sevika, and scroll on your phone or watch tv. tonight wasn’t much different, no change in schedule—except, sevika didn’t turn on the tv. the remote was on sevika’s side, she always turned on the tv.

you looked over at her, “babe? what’s wrong?” sevika took a breath before standing, taking her time as she walked over to the other side of the bed. she sat next to you, trying to lock eyes with you, but you wouldn’t look. not at her. not at the shame that you somehow “failed” her. sevika’s human hand rested in your lap, intertwining your fingers with hers.

“love. i want you to look at me. please.” the pleading in sevika’s voice wore down your resolve some—and you raise your head just a bit to look at her.

“i love you. you know that, you know that i would never leave you. and i… can’t help but feel like you’re hiding from me. physically.” a beat passes, “you don’t have to say it out loud—i just can’t watch you treat yourself like you have been. i understand that right now… you don’t love your body, the way you look.”

you tense up—breath hitches. you yourself haven’t even said it. not even in your mind.

your voice was small when you spoke, “that’s not true.”

“i think it is, love. you flinch and move away from me when i try and hold you. you don’t undress when the lights aren’t on, not in front of a mirror either. and i don’t know how to fix it completely… but you know that i will try every possible solution because i. love. you. let me show you what i see, sweetheart. please.”

it felt like a boulder was chained to your heart, dragging it further and further down in your chest. immediately, your eyes glisten and overflow. you separated your hand from hers, bringing both to cover your face and turn away in shame.

“i—im, i-i didn’t,” you choked on a sob, actively unraveling in mere moments. “i don’t know what’s wrong with me, a-and—im so sorry!” a horrible, pained sob wracked through your chest and seemed to crack it open. “i-im so sorry, im so sorry, im so…” you just continued and on, repeating an apology when you had nothing to apologize for.

sevika immediately wrapped her strong arms around you, shushing you, trying in vain to soothe you. she kissed the tip of your nose, the crown of your head, every part of your face while rocking you absentmindedly.

“shhh, shhh. it’s okay love, you don’t have to apologize. im not mad at you. i love you, my heart. i love your body. i love that you gave us our daughter. i. love. you.”

[dear-mimii]

vi x intoxicated!reader

pairing! vi x intoxicated!gf!reader

about! what a fun little get together with some friends! so much fun you ordered another drink, and another, and another…

cw! mentions of alcohol, reader being intoxicated and drinking more alcohol

word count! 387

an! drafted up this little drabble at like midnight last night, just a little something to feed yall! mwah!!

it really was meant to be a nice, relaxed, night out. yet somehow, you accidentally went a little too far.

it started off fun, a get together with you and your girlfriend vi’s friends. ekko, her best friend caitlyn, her sister jinx, just a small get-together. everyone was nursing their own drinks, taking occasional sips. you and vi were doing the same thing, taking small sips—yours were a bit more than small sips. you finished your first drink, not particularly quickly, so you ordered another. hey, you weren’t driving anyway!

even if you weren’t driving, you were a lightweight… and the next few drinks would make you do things you definitely regretted in the morning.

your cheeks began to flush as the night went on, your words slurring like syrup, your smile widening as you progressively became more clingy.

“babe, slow down, alright? the drinks aren’t running from you, you can take it easy.” vi voiced her concern, muttering softly in your ear.

yea… it just went in one ear and out the next. you were noticeably talking louder—shouting would be more accurate, and you were laughing with less caution, just letting out the loudest cackles. the other people you were hanging out with exchanged glances before chuckling themselves, amused by your increasingly intoxicated state.

then, rather stupidly, you “tried” to seduce vi. you signaled her with your hand as if you wanted to tell her something with a giggle, watching as she leaned in to hear you. you leaned in to try and nip at her neck, but instead you completely missed, bonking your head on vi’s shoulder. you just laughed it off (the alcohol stopped you from feeling most of it), swaying while trying to straighten up. and of course… you’d think that would be quite easy, but you nearly fell off or your stool instead.

vi narrowly caught you before deciding then and there to pull the plug. “ok—that’s it. come on, you need to go home babe. let’s go.”

vi gave apologies to your friends before hauling you out the bar as you stumbled all the way to the car. she buckled you into the passenger seat, pausing for a moment to tuck a hair behind your ear.

“you really overdid it this time did you? … i love you, crazy fucking lightweight.”

[dear-mimii]

mel and her muse

pairing! mel x girlfriend!reader

about! your girlfriend asked paint you, how fun!

cw! not really nsfw, mentions of mel touching your upper thigh/nipple, no mentions of sex

word count! 509

an! ugh i loved writing this but omgggg i got such bad writers block. school got busy lately so that’s why this is a bit late!

you loved your girlfriend, mel. loved all her quirks and hobbies, her humor, just… mel. and you didn’t even have to question whether or not she loved you, equally if not more than you did. so after mel picked up painting and asked to paint you, it seemed like a no-brainer and you eagerly agreed.

walking down one of the opulent corridors of your shared estate, you stopped in front of the room mel had transformed into her art studio, clad in a simple white, silk robe. you paused, adjusting the tie around your waist, and knocked gently. you could hear a muffled “coming,” from inside, the patting of bare feet coming closer to the door.

“ah, love. you look as beautiful as ever, come in.” mel gave you a peck on the cheek before gesturing inside.

her art studio wasn’t chaotic with supplies everywhere and half painted canvases scattered about. no, that wasn’t mel. it was organized, everything had it’s own place and stayed there until it needed to be used. windows draped in soft, sheer curtains let in beautiful rays of light that streaked across the floors. mel turned around to look at you and chuckled slightly as she saw your expression, just taking it all in. she pointed to a stool in the middle of the room, gesturing for you to sit. with a reassuring, warm smile, you let the robe slip off your shoulders, all the way down until it was pooled around your feet. you chuckled—almost nervously as you went to sit on the stool. you didn’t mind mel seeing your naked body, she’d seen it before, but not necessarily in the… artistic setting.

“how do you want me to pose…?” your voice was somewhat hesitant, unsure of what to do or how to do it.

mel smiled at you again at your nervousness, but it wasn’t the same kind of reassurance—to some extent. it was hinted with just a bit of mischief. definitely more than a bit of mischief as mel walked over you, eager to move and twist you for her painting pleasure. she began by turning you to the side, extending one leg while propping up the other. moving your arms, carefully working each individual finger. but while she did so, she was simultaneously, (at least trying) discreetly grazing and touching very specific areas. rather than moving your leg by the knee, she put her hand up at the top of your thigh, fingernails digging in ever so slightly. grazing the side of your nipple, grabbing your face with both hands just to adjust it. of course you knew what she was doing, you could see her smirk, the way she held back chuckles.

you were bathed in the warm light streaming in from the window, the ray’s bouncing and illuminating your skin like you were glowing. a goddess.

walking over to her easel and canvas, she spoke in a smooth, honeyed tone. “now, stay still while i paint you love, unless i have to do… something else to prevent distractions?”

[dear-mimii]

lest x enforcer!reader

pairing! lest x enforcer!reader

about! after that attack on the council building, your arm was nearly shot. good thing that you're working for Councilor Salo, because you picked up some helpful information...

cw! mentions of nerve pain/ damage

word count! 1.1k

an! reblog because tumblr had the AUDACITY to give me a content warning!!! HAPPY 100 FOLLOWERS PEOPLE!!! this is a official/unofficial gift to you all for the support! ok I KNOW a thousand words is a bit more than usual, but i didn't want to write three whole parts and i just HAD to write in the details about the injury, attention to detail people.

why must you be so… determined? prideful? stubborn? stupid?

those were the words swirling in your head as you sat in carriage with Councilor Salo— your principal. ever since the attack on the council building by jinx, which resulted in Councilor Salo’s inability to walk, he was especially paranoid and requested a personal security detail from the Enforcers. seems easy, right? following around a councilor to a bunch of cushy parties and just standing around places. it would be if you weren’t also injured from the attack.

trauma to the brachial plexus, is what the doctor told you. apparently it wasn’t severe, but it definitely felt severe. some days were better than others, with just numbness, tingling and just regular weakness in your non-dominant arm and hand. other times, in the middle of the night you’d wake up to shooting pain, often followed by your arm being asleep for nearly an hour after you woke up. you struggled to hold your gun properly, reloading was a battle of its own, but of course, you wanted to prove yourself capable after your mandatory time off. so when this job came up, you eagerly agreed.

working for Salo, you heard some… interesting things. most intriguing for you, a mysterious… healer? you often heard him and his assistant talk in whispers about his “next session” or something about his legs, it was mostly snippets of finished conversations, so you didn’t pick up much. until you did piece it together. sometimes, Salo would request to go out to brunch or shopping with just his assistant—insisting that the constant presence of Enforcers made these activities “less entertaining.” but, you found out instead of going out to a cafe, Salo was going to the undercity, or rather, a place undercity adjacent. along with that, you heard the word “shimmer” more than a few times.

a healer from the undercity, who has something to do with shimmer? because that sounds trustworthy.

yet here you were, as skeptical as you were, quietly following Councilor Salo towards this healing place. you saw him go in, heard the faintest murmur of voices, but you couldn’t go in just yet—surely he would recognize you. so, you were just standing outside, trying to look busy to people who passed.

“tch, what the hell am i doing here? i just need to go home, it’s probably just a scam for rich people.” you grumbled to yourself as you waited idly outside.

finally, what felt like an hour passed, and you heard the familiar rolling of Salo’s wheelchair obliviously roll past you. with a deep breath, you made your way to the entrance, opening the creaky door. a woman was there, walking back and forth between rooms, not really noticing your presence (intentionally or unintentionally, who knows?).

your voice came out a bit higher than you wanted it to, “hello?” you cleared your throat, already feeling out of place. “i came for a… treatment?”

the woman with large… almost cat like ears finally looked up at you, and it felt like in a few seconds she knew exactly why you were here.

“left side of the hallway, third room.”

words caught in your throat as you tried to come up with some kind of response, even a small “thank you”, but for some odd reason you were really clamming up.

you pushed past a curtain, entering a calming room, much like the atmosphere of the building as a whole. candles emitted a soft glow and comforting aroma throughout, casting blurry shadows across the walls. a long, red sofa was in the center was embroidered with scattered flowers and leaves. various things were strewn about, curtains, a small end table, hanging lanterns and so on and so forth. you took a seat on the sofa, keeping your hands in your lap nervously as you waited, eyes flickering to different objects in a mostly futile attempt to occupy yourself.

a few minutes later, she entered with two pristine, folded white towels in her arms. the cat eared woman put the towels on the sofa next to you. “please take off your clothes. when you lay down, use these to cover yourself.”

before you could question her, she slid the curtain that acted like a door, not walking far. this was probably on the top five stupidest things you’ve ever done, yet, after making sure the woman really couldn’t see you, you turned around and slid off your shirt. your arm barely made it halfway up before a jolt of pain forced you to stop, breath stuttering. you cursed under your breath, wrestling the shirt off with your good hand, praying she couldn’t hear the struggle.

your trousers weren’t as much as a problem (at least the nerves there weren’t fried). settling on the sofa carefully as to not jostle your arm too much, using your other to drape the towels around your chest and juncture of your thighs. after a few minutes, what seemed like on cue, she entered once again, this time with a small brass jar and a paintbrush. sitting down the jar and brush, she kneeled on the floor by your chest.

“it”s Lest,” she paused, her voice sure yet soft. “my name is Lest, i meant. may i? i just need to feel where it hurts.”

hesitantly, you nodded, allowing Lest to touch your arm. her fingers grazed your inner bicep, and you let out a hiss from the pain of what felt like a live wire imbedded in your muscle. it was embarrassing—to be in some random building in the undercity, shirtless, and from the faintest touch your nerves burned. you’re sure Lest could sense the pain, embarrassment, but she just hummed in response. she gradually went down your arm to your wrist, earning some of the same reactions; jerking, flinching, sudden tension. it didn’t seem like a way to diagnose anything specific to you, but Lest looked like she knew more than you when it came to this.

Lest picked up her jar and paintbrush, and you breathed deeply before closing your eyes. as soon as the first bristle of the brush hit your skin, an immediate, blinding white sensation bloomed outward all throughout your arm. it wasn’t the usual pain—far from it more than anything. and it wasn’t inherently… euphoric either. for once since the incident, you didn’t feel anything, no pain or discomfort, and that alone was better than anything in the world. the tension in your body melted away like ice on a hot day, and a sigh left your now relaxed lips without you even realizing.

the next time you came back, it was for the pain again

the third time, totally for the pain… is what you told yourself.

and at this point you simply lost count, you couldn’t even think of an excuse to give yourself.

and every time you darkened her doorstep, Lest just gave you a small, indulgent smile.