#a dab of lipstick works just fine

[estellaestella]

So in summer 2022 a friend dropped in and asked for some blusher to freshen up her makeup and i had to fess up i dont own any. (I dont do primers, foundations, highlighters etc either but that's another story.) Anyway, in all my time on this planet I had never bought a blush. And while i am sure that was right for me it didnt stop me from feeling super embarassed. Cut to a month later and I had bought 4.

So, my 2023 resolution is to not shop to fill an emotional need. No buying things unless i need them objectively. (Ok, with a tiny leeway for buying the prettier option.)

[buckyalpine]

Needy Bucky x CEO reader

Filth and nothing else.

Imagine Bucky jerking off watching you get ready in the morning. You're up before him, hair styled while sitting at the vanity applying your make up when his eyes flutter open. He looks adorable with his fluffy hair messy from sleep, face cuddled up in the pillow but the second his eyes land on you, you know his thoughts are anything but innocent.

"Good morning handsome" You coo, looking at him over your shoulder before going back to getting ready, giggling to yourself over the huff he lets out.

"Baby, m'so hard right now" He groaned, a hint of a whine in his voice as he watched you swipe your lipstick across your lips.

"Bucky" your voice is a warning, knowing damn well that he hardly has to beg, you're just as needy as he is but you can't give into him this morning.

"S'not fair. Can't you come here and suck it a little" He almost pouts and you consider giving in, teasing him with your tongue but you have back to back meetings scheduled and you know you can't be late.

"I can’t baby, I don’t have time" You swirl your brush around your powder, dappling it onto your cheek and the action makes Bucky's cock throb.

"Fine, then let me enjoy the view" He shrugged, throwing the bed sheet off, letting you see his achingly hard cock straining against his briefs.

"You wouldn’t" You looked at him through the mirror feeling your own panties dampen. He smirked, lifting his hips up to pull down his briefs, tossing them aside and spreading his legs wide, his arm propped under his head while his other hand trailed down his body, squeezing around the base of his thick cock.

“Oh fuck baby” He moaned watching you dab gloss to the center of your lips before slipping your robe off leaving you in just your bra and panties, sauntering off into the closet to put on your skirt and blazer. He gave himself long languid strokes, careful to touch himself slowly so he could take his time admiring you.

"You look so pretty" His voice was a whisper as you emerged, sucking in a breath when you bent over to slip on your panty hose, beads of precum dribbling down his shaft. "The things I'd do to you when you're bent over like that, fuck me"

Bucky's lip was caught between his teeth, abs tensed as his mind started to wander while twisting his hand rhythmically around the head of his cock.

"You want me to visit you in your office today baby?" He smirked, noting your thighs clenching together, desperate for some type of friction. "I can be a good boy for you, y'know"

"A-and how's that" You tried to keep your voice steady but Bucky made it impossible.

"Anything you like angel. I'd be happy to just stroke my cock to you all day, wouldn't disturb you baby. Just let me sit on that couch of yours and watch my pretty baby work, would make my cock bust so fast. I'd touch myself just like this, you have no idea how hard I get for you doll"

The thought of getting to be in your office sets off a chain of dirty thoughts and he lets you know every single one.

"Or I can get on my knees for you. Right under your desk. Pull that little skirt up and take those panties off, nurse on that pretty clit of yours, help you relax"

"You have no idea what I'd give to sit on your table and stroke myself while you sit at your desk, fucking hell, I'd make such a mess"

"Cover your table with my cream, let your office know how sexy you are. Do you have any idea how perfect you are, doll"

His eyes close for a moment, head lulling to the side between whimpers and moans because he's on cloud nine. You're the prettiest, sweetest, smartest person he knows and he gets to love you, hold you, fucking lie in bed and just touch himself to you like a horny little boy and you let him.

You're everything to him and more.

"My balls are throbbing right now baby, they're so fuckin' full" He threw his head back, chest heaving, eyes now focused on you while his thighs tensed.

"God, I want those over my shoulders" He panted while you slipped your heels on, his mind now thinking about being balls deep in you while you wear nothing but your perfect black heels.

"I'm gonna cum, fuck, m'gonna cum for you baby" his hips squirmed against the bed, rutting and thrusting upwards into his fist while you sprayed your perfume, the combination of how you looked and smelled too much for him. You took one final look in the mirror, not a strand of hair out of place, sauntering over to your needy boyfriend, his skin slick in a sheen of sweat.

"You like that you see baby?" You cooed while he nodded, looking at you with glassy eyes, jerking himself faster.

"You're so beautiful, I can't-" He lets out a choked sob when you remove his hand away from his throbbing length, nearly crying when you carefully take him into your mouth.

"Baby what are you-baby y-you can't, I'll fuckin' bust till it drips and spills out your mouth, fuck- OH FUCKKKK I'm gonna cum for you!" You wrapped your lips around the head of his cock, letting your tongue swipe across his leaking slit, your mouth instantly filled with ropes of his thick cum, endlessly shooting down your throat. You swallow everything with ease, lipstick still perfectly in place, makeup un-smudged.

Bucky let out a needy whimper, spurts of cum still dribbling out as you pulled off him, his hand firmly gripping onto the sheets while you come up to him and run your fingers through his tousled hair.

"Good boy" You caressed his scruffy cheek, pecking his lips once more before getting up and heading out the door. Bucky licked his hips, tasting remnants of himself, eyes growing wide when you looked over before locking the door.

"Come by later if you're not busy"

He would.

He definitely would.

[multi-fandom-imagine]

Hey gal- your writing is actually do accurate for Lackadaisy, Especially Viktorand Mordecai, like oml your fantastic. Could I ask for you to do prompt 20 and 64 for Mordecai-

Maybe Mordecai as the sender, and Reader as the receiver?

Like, do you boo, I don't want to seem annoying. I love your work sm keep it up ❤️

A/n: that means the world to me knowing how much i got the characters right! But I apologize if this is garbage...I just got home { wrote half in a hotel room}

Prompts Used:

20:sender{Mordecai} lifts receiver's {Readers}chin ,invoking eye contact

64: sender{Mordecai}[ applies / touches up ] receiver’s{Readers}makeup

It's not like he meant to let himself get carried away, he was honestly appalled with himself act like some hormonal teenager but...

....but you smelt so good, like spun sugar and that dress. Mordecai could have sworn you had taken his breath away. You looked so good and of course the color of the dress had to be his favorite. He never deemed himself as the jealous type, yes it may irritate him if he gets bested in chess. Yes he hates getting dirty but it doesn't mean he should have acted this way towards you.

"I am....sorry." Mordecai muttered, he could feel the embarrassment hit him as he listened to your giggle.He didn't know why you weren't embarrassed by the situation.

"You don't have to be embarrassed Mordecai." Doing your best to smooth out your hair then dress your eyes went wide as he grasped your chin forcing you to look in his eyes.

Grunting, Mordecai pulled out handkerchief from his breast pocket wiping your smudged lipstick. "Well...is that better?"

Rolling your eyes you quickly dabbed away the rest though he did do a good job at taken care of most of your make up that was smudged thanks to him.

Grabbing your lipstick out of your purse you quickly reapplied it. "Try not to get jealous now or at least wait until we're home."

Letting out a grunt, Mordecai wrapped his arms around your waist. "Hmp...fine."

[kararisa]

darling, starling

— 9. iridescence — ✦ (wc: 0.6k)

“Is this going to take any longer?” you ask.

It’s an interesting feeling, having Scaramouche in your lap while he does your makeup. The side of his palm gently rests against your cheek as he does your eyeliner, his brow furrowed in concentration while you rest against the cushions of your sofa. His indigo hair and indigo eyes are barely illuminated by the dimmed lights of your living room, an insistence of his even at your protest of the horrid lighting for makeup.

“It’ll only take a moment longer,” he responds.

“You said that ten minutes ago,” an over-exaggeration on your part, but you couldn’t see how a makeover could take so damn long.

Scaramoche grins, his voice dripping in mock innocence, “Perfection takes time. Or however that saying goes. I’m not used to putting makeup on another person so just cooperate with me, will you?”

You do your best to glare at Scaramouche as he finishes up your eyeliner. The two of you have been at this for a while now, bantering while he does your makeup. When he finishes, whenever that may be, the two of you will swap places so you can give him a makeover in return. Admittedly an interesting arrangement to re-enact for a scene in his book, but you have to admit it’s been alright so far. He isn’t terrible, he just takes too long for your liking.

“Part your lips a bit. I’m putting lipstick on you,” you oblige, and Scaramouche continues while he dabs color on your lips. “Our ruse has been quite effective so far. But people seem to think we’ve been in love for longer than we’ve been dating.”

Amusement colors your voice, “I mean, I like to think it makes our whole act more effective.”

He finally leans back to inspect his work after what seems like forever and declares that he’s done — time for you to switch places. He gets off you to take a seat by your side. You take the opportunity to reposition yourself and straddle him.

Only to get a proper look at him while you give him a makeover, of course.

A few minutes of silence pass when Scaramouche speaks up, “The whole point of me asking you to do this was for us to talk. So talk.”

“Like what, the groceries?”

“Doesn’t matter. Just talk.”

“Well,” you pause, twisting the makeup sponge in your hand before getting back to work. “I think we’re running out of eggs? And we only have a little bit of flour left.”

“Did you add it to the list on the fridge?”

“I already did, smartass. You were the one who told me to talk.” you laugh slightly when you see him glaring at you, and you move your other hand to rest on his shoulder. “Stop looking all grumpy like that. You’re gonna make me mess up.”

“I am not ‘looking all grumpy’.”

“Oh, you definitely are.” you chide, dabbing his cheek with your makeup sponge. “Ooooh is my grumpy face mad at me?”

“Shut up and just get this over with, will you?” Scaramouche averts his gaze. “Absolute terror.”

You move on to doing his eyeliner before you continue talking, “I could help you cook dinner tonight if you want.”

“Absolutely not,” he answers curtly. “You’re still banned from the kitchen.”

“The thing that happened with the air fryer wasn’t even that bad.” you protest.

“Do I need to remind you what happened? You quite literally –”

“Okay fine, maybe I should leave the cooking to you today. But one day you’ll lift my ban from my own fucking kitchen.”

“Not happening until you learn how to actually cook.”

“Gonna need a good teacher for that, so why don’t you teach me?” you jest

He gives you an incredulous look before responding, “Sure. Whatever. Are you done with my eyeliner yet?”

“Stop moving and I’ll get done quicker.”

✧— previous — masterlist — next —✧

summary: being the world-famous singer-songwriter "zenith", the limelight has been on you ever since the start of your career. however, the media becomes relentless when leaks of music you never meant to release begin to circulate. your friend scaramouche, meanwhile, seems to have gotten stuck while writing his second book. with a deadline fast approaching, he comes to you with a deal: act as if you're dating him so he can gather reference material and, in turn, he'll help keep the press' eyes off of your leaks until you release your next album. a win-win in your book, so why not help a friend out?

author's notes:

they're definitely not in love guys trust me

taglist — currently OPEN:

@aestherin @unsterblich-prinz @yourstrulykore @krnzysh @syriiina @yumiaur @featuredtofu @kodzusmiles @meigalaxy @fangygf @motherscrustytoenailclippings @samyayaya @hiimera @beriiov @e0nssadrift @dazaisboner @nillajhayne @chluuvr @nillajhayne @deffenferofjustice @romyoia @xiaomainlmao @hotgirlshit5 @potabletable @letthewindlead @esuz @toriiee @kclremin @angelkazusstuff @phoenix-eclipses @sakiimeo @mayuumine @ako-ang-mahal-ko @only-cherry-blossom @keiiqq @what-just-happened-huh @n3r0-1417 @haunts-gh0st @layla240 @mamafly @duckyyyx @certified-shrimp @kgogoma @xtobefreex @aeongiies @mechanicalbeat1 @meidnightrain @nordicbananas @feiherp @erzarq

[64yrsold]

WINTERING 2. we went to winter wonderland

twelve days of christmas writing prompts by @abiiors wintering masterlist previous (1)

“No, I think I’m getting a cold,” I mumbled, twisting myself tighter under the blankets.

“Are you really going to make me go to this alone?” He huffed, the wind battering his phone in the background of the call.

“I never said I wanted to go!” I grumbled, laughing, “Who wants to see all of their exes from school? And have to skate in front of them?”

“It’s cruel of you,” he noted with a sigh, “and that’s why I’ll be at your door in five minutes.”

“Don’t,” I gasped, sitting up out of bed. I ripped off the covers, throwing clothes on my bed.

“Were you already in bed?” he laughed, disgusted. “I’m on your street, I think.”

“Please don’t make me go out,” I whined, hopping into my jeans. “My hair is horrible.”

“Just put it in one of those… Those claw, claw things.”

“A claw clip?” 

“Fuckin’ claw clip, yeah,” he said, sounding out of breath, “You look nice in those.”

“Just shut up,” I groaned, checking my outfit in the mirror. 

“Right, right,” he chuckled, “Unlock the door, I’ll be there in a bit.”

“Christ,” I sighed, and hung up the phone. I unlocked the door, going back to my room to dab on some lipstick and blush. I put on my coat, twirling a huge scarf around my neck, and going back to stare at myself in the mirror.

“Hello?” Matty called from the entrance, accompanied by the sound of cold air rushing in through the front door. I could smell the cigarette smoke from my room, and swallowed through a wave of nostalgia. I came out with a smile.

“Okay, I’m ready if you are,” I shrugged, pulling my scarf tighter.

“It’s not that cold out,” he giggled, tugging on one end of my scarf.

“Is it not?” I frowned, looking at his pink ears and watery eyes.

“It’s cute,” he grinned, but pulled the scarf off of me, “But don’t you want to make them jealous? Seethe with regret?”

I raised an eyebrow, “Is that how you feel?”

“I’m different,” he licked his lower lip, “Come on.” He pushed open the door, the wind biting at my chin. I winced, and he laughed.

“I’m gonna freeze!” I laughed, exasperated. 

“Short walk, don’t worry,” his eyes creased from his grin. My heart shifted in my chest, and I stuffed my hands in my pockets, walking with my head down. I glanced up occasionally to peer into a glowing home, flickering from the fireplace, or flashing cold blue from the television. His jacket slipped against mine, surely the cause of the static I felt between us. He turned to me when my teeth started chattering.

“Is it that bad?” He whispered, his face warming from the lights strung on trees and between street lamps. 

“Yes,” I said through a clenched jaw, trying to tuck my chin into my jacket.

“God,” he bit his lip through a laugh, the crowd beginning to thicken. “Here, look, I’ll get you a hot chocolate.”

“I don’t like hot chocolate,” I curled my lip. 

“What?” he blinked. “Fine, a cider then.”

“Does it have alcohol?” I asked, standing beside him at the stall.

“Mm, think so.”

“I can’t, then.”

“What?”

“I can’t! I work tomorrow.”

He shook his head slowly, “You’ve changed.”

“I’ve matured,” I pursed my lips to hide a grin.

He placed a hand on his heart, but turned and ordered two ciders. When he placed the steaming cup in my hands, I found myself feeling a bit grateful. I sipped it slowly, glancing at him, surrounded in snow and ice. I looked away when I remembered how his cold fingertips felt on my neck.

“It’s sort of nice,” he spoke, eyes reflecting the stars and lights, “Sort of.”

I smiled, looking around; toddlers losing their mittens, adults slipping on ice. My ex with his arm around a girl in a red coat.

“We have to go,” I uttered urgently, grabbing his sleeve and pulling him away from the crowd.

“What?” he questioned, pulling against me. He looked behind him, gasping, “Oh, that’s why.”

“Matty, please, please, I cannot see him–”

“I think it’s too late,” he whispered, then threw his arm over my shoulder.

“Matty Healy!” I heard a familiar voice call, my blood stilling in my neck at the sound.

“Alright, James,” Matty nodded, giving him a wave. He squeezed my shoulder.

“Well, look at you two,” James grinned, the red-coated girl matching his obliterating smile, “Still together, hey?”

I laughed awkwardly, taking a breath to spill the truth, but Matty interrupted me.

“That’s right,” he kissed my temple, “How could I let this one go?”

James gave a knowing laugh, nodding, “That’s great.”

“Yeah,” Matty raised his eyebrows, “And you’ve been good?”

“Oh sure, sure,” James tapped the shoulder of the girl, “This is Annika, my wife.”

I swallowed.

“Oh, good for you,” Matty praised, “So nice to meet you, Annika.”

Annika smiled.

“And, uh,” James looked to me, “What have you been up to?”

“You know,” I shrugged, “Working… And things.” Matty’s arm over my shoulder was a burden that could compete with Atlas’. I focused on the warm cider in my hand.

“I guess you want me to tell them, darling?” Matty laughed, “We’re engaged, actually.”

My heart fell to the snow.

“Right,” I grimaced, looking up at him. He widened his eyes. I grinned.

“Well, congrats!” James bellowed, “Let’s see the ring, come on.”

“Oh, it’s being resized, actually,” Matty sighed, “Her fingers are just so small.”

“Ah, too bad,” James said, “But great to hear, you two.”

“Yeah,” Matty looked down at me, the tip of his nose pink, “Couldn’t be happier.”

“Me too,” I replied, hazy. It almost felt real.

“Anyways, good to see you, James,” Matty waved, “This one is absolutely freezing, got to head home.”

“Sure thing,” James replied, and we parted ways, Matty’s arm still heavy on my shoulders. He let go when we made it to the dark sidewalk, his fingertips slipping down my back.

I looked at him, the bewilderment clear on my face.

“Ah, who cares,” Matty giggled, “You could tell he was jealous, right?”

I scoffed.

“He was,” he shrugged. “You look pretty in the snow.”

“Alright,” I grumbled, fingertips numb. Matty walked beside me slowly, silent and comforting the whole way home.

-> next (3)

[niki-phoria]

It’s me again!

I love how you did my most recent request. It’s so, so cute! I would like to make a request again if you’re still active.

So, this is gonna be during blessed-cursed era where enha and taller!8thmember!reader are gonna be filming for the 1thek performance (where jay had black lipstick at the time). After they were done filming, jay and reader praise each other and jay showers reader’s face with kisses, leaving lipstick marks all over.

Sorry if this sounds a little suggestive for you, but you don’t have to write it if you don’t want to. But if you want, I’m sure it’ll come out just fine. I know you’re a great writer.

- 🕊️

pairing: jay x male!8th member!reader (no pronouns used) genre: fluff/comfort word count: 669

includes: 8th member reader, jay sits in reader's lap

a/n: thank you so much <33 i'm sorry for the irregular posting lately, i've been busy with school/studying so rn i'm only posting when i have the motivation, but i am working on a few things !! your reqs mean so much to me and i hope you like it :))

the cheers of the audience are nearly overwhelming as you stand on the stage, maintaining your ending pose as the cameras linger on you for a few seconds. a soft breath of relief escapes you when the cameras turn off, signaling the final end of your performance.

jay is quick to make his way across the stage to stand beside you. he wraps an arm around your waist as you wave goodbye to the audience before disappearing behind the curtains once again. 

you move in a relatively silent daze as you help the staff members remove your microphone and dab some of the sweat off of your neck and temples. you can feel jay’s gaze on you as you slip away from the rest of the group and back into your dressing room under the excuse of quickly freshening up.

you’re alone for mere seconds before jay silently follows you into the dressing room, quietly shutting the door behind himself. “y/n,” he says, wandering over to stand behind you. he furrows his eyebrows slightly as he reaches out, tilting your head up so you’re looking into his eyes. “is everything okay?”

“yeah, yeah,” you breathe, hoping your half-hearted reassurances will be enough to deter jay’s concerns. though his silence is enough of a response - he’s not buying it. 

a soft sigh escapes your lips as you break eye contact. “it’s just… i think i could’ve done better today. my footwork was sloppy and my voice cracked.”

a frown tugs at the corners of jay’s lips. “jagi, look at me,” he whispers. “you’re amazing.” he leans in, pulling you into a chaste kiss. you carefully tug him down to sit in your lap, keeping him close to you. a chuckle escapes his lips when you unconsciously follow his touch.

“incredible.” this time his lips brush against your cheek. you can feel the weight of the world slipping off of your shoulders with each kiss he presses against your skin. “show stopping.” you chuckle softly when he leans in to press another kiss against a sensitive point of your neck. you squirm slightly at the ticklish feeling, though jay is quick to gently tighten his grip to escape you from leaving. 

you only catch the mischievous glint in his eyes for a second before he leans in once again, repeatedly peppering kisses all over your face. “jay!” you laugh. your arms find their familiar home around his shoulders. 

you shiver when his lips brush against the space just underneath your jawline. jay softly smiles to himself at your reaction; his fingers slip underneath the thick fabric of your oversized white hoodie. a comforting warmth spreads through you as he traces a few indiscernible shapes against your bare skin. 

jay raises a hand up to cup your face with his hand. he brushes his thumb against your skin as you both smile at each other. “i love you. you were incredible out there - just like you always are.” his words are hushed as they escape his lips, as if they’re little promises to be kept solely between the two of you; the moment was forever captured in your memories. 

he leans in, sealing the unspoken oath with yet another sweet kiss pressed against your lips. “just like you always will be.”

you smile, leaning down to press a kiss of your own against jay’s cheek. “let’s go home? i would kill for some of your curry.”

“of course, love,” he smiles. “but you should probably clean up before we leave.”

you twist around, glancing at yourself in the dressing room mirror. despite his confident facade, you can see the light flush that has begun to spread up his neck and seep onto his cheeks when you meet his eyes once again. 

a smirk tugs at the corners of your lips as you admire the light stains decorating your face and neck - temporary evidence of your affection in the dressing room etched all across your skin. “you should wear lipstick more often.”

if you enjoy my work, consider checking out my enha masterlist or rebloging this post !!

[winniemaywebber]

ohhh winnie 🥺 i'd love olive x dougie with “i can do your hair, if you want.”

hi my darling!!! thanks so much for the request. I hope you love it <3

request is from this prompt list - inbox is still open for more should any take your fancy!

Groaning as she wakes from her extremely restful sleep, Olive opens one eye with a squint, the bright morning light irritating her eyes as it mockingly peeks through the curtain as she looks at the clock that is sat on her nightstand. 

“Shit!” she yelps, leaping from the warm bed. The ruckus wakes her husband, his signature morning snort leaving his nose as he jerks his head up. “What in the world, honey?” “I’m late,” she panics, rushing to the bathroom to brush her teeth. “I’m so sure I set the alarm last night after–” “We were a little preoccupied, Ollie,” he giggles, a cheeky devilish smile on his face.

“Hush up, Douglass,” she responds, throwing a wash cloth at him as he enters the bathroom. She begins cackling as he tickles at her waist, squealing around a mouth full of toothpaste. Spitting into the sink, she tries to prise his hands off her. “Stop trying to get me even more behind schedule, mister.” “I promise I’m not,” he replies softly, nuzzling himself into her neck as he wraps his arms around her. “I can do your hair, if you want?” “Do you even know how?” She titters, making her way to her vanity that sits opposite the bed. 

“I’ve seen you do it enough times, I think I can manage.”

“If you say so,” she giggles, looking at him in the reflection of the vanity mirror as he sits down behind her. “Just watch out for knots, they hurt.”

“I’ll be gentle,” he says, planting a soft kiss where her neck and shoulder meet. He begins unpinning each curl from her head painstakingly slowly so as not to catch any of her hair, running his fingers through each part. 

“Hmm,” she breathes, dabbing lipstick on her mouth. “That feels nice.” “Good,” he grins, admiring his work as he pulls the hairbrush through her hair. “There, honey girl. How did I do?”

She turns her head this way and that way, looking at his fine work from every angle. She turns and kisses him, his nose wrinkling as they grin at each other. “Perfect.”

[imaginesbymk]

RESERVOIR DOGS PREFERENCE

PUTTING (EUPHORIA) MAKEUP ON THEM

Characters: Mr. White (Larry), Mr. Orange (Freddy Newandyke), Mr. Blonde (Vic Vega), Mr. Pink, Mr. Brown + “Nice Guy” Eddie 

Tags: swearing, tarantino characters not appreciating the beauty of makeup ??

Taglist: @locke-writes​ & @aryn-the-bearheart​

A/N: i am currently planning a reservoir dogs/pulp fiction x OC AU fic that's euphoria-themed, but i feel like its just hyper fixation and my untreated adhd will just make me abandon it entirely and bounce back to fixating on HBO war fics :P enjoy and leave a like/reblog/feedback <33 ^.^

( i added links to the makeup looks they have lol! its highlighted so you will see )

━︎ MR. WHITE ( LARRY DIMMICK )

He thinks you're joking, but you're so serious

Mr. White laughs out loud. "C'mon. Don't do that to me, y/n. I'll wear those things the day aliens land and go clubbing in L.A."

One time he's so drunk from the bar that he comes home and gets too curious when he sees you organizing your makeup station. "All right, I'll bite. Make me look like a doll."

He's not sober so he moves too much, and you're struggling.

"Finally done!"

He checks the vanity. You went simple but bold on graphic eyeliner. "Ho-ly shit!" He laughs. "I could pick up women and men at the bar if I went out like this earlier."

━︎ MR. ORANGE ( FREDDY NEWANDYKE )

Freddy has a nice eye shape, so you decide to give him a smokey eye look with glitter tears

He lowkey doesn't mind it, he knows he's good looking so why not add more shine to it?

"Stop moving, Freddy. You'll make me mess up."

He checks the mirror. "How do you come up with this?"

You take a lot of photos of him, and he keeps it on for the whole day that he'll forget that he's wearing makeup

Officer Holdaway from the police department visits him at the apartment with some case files he picked up for him. "What the FUCK happened to you, man?"

━︎ MR. BLONDE ( VIC VEGA )

He thinks it's too girly, and would only appreciate it if it was worn on someone attractive

Mr. Blonde mainly likes red lipstick and loves it when you leave lipstick stains on him

You're actually worried that he'll touch his face too much that it'll ruin his makeup (he touches his face too much)

He's so annoyed that he finally gives in and lets you experiment.

You let him choose the colours on the palette. "I dunno, that one."

He hums when he looks in the mirror. "Yeah. It's cool." He kinda likes it, but he immediately makes you wipe it all off.

━︎ MR. PINK

There is absolutely no way Pink is ever gonna wear makeup, let alone let you put a dab of blush on him

He will literally swat your hand away and try to throw you off the couch when you pounce on his lap with a powder brush in your hand

He's passed out on the couch and you slowly and carefully apply pink liner on him

He wakes up all groggy, annoyed, and confused as to why you're smiling and laughing so devilishly. "What's the fuckin' matter with you?" He goes into the bathroom and looks in the mirror. "Y/N L/N YOU ARE SO DEAD."

━︎ MR. BROWN

Brown will only say yes as long as you don't make him go out in public

"Fine," he huffs. "But I want a Madonna glam."

You agreed because he couldn't stop talking about Like A Virgin the whole day.

As he's watching you look at the eyeshadow palette, you decide on the neon colours for the 80s vibe.

"I can't believe I'm actually doing this," he says to you.

He keeps bombarding you with questions about the brushes. "There's a whole routine to makeup?! Jesus."

"I guess I do feel kinda pretty," he chuckles to himself in the mirror.

He messes up his makeup because he kept scratching his eyes!!!!

━︎ NICE GUY EDDIE ( EDDIE CABOT )

"No fuckin' way, y/n. Do I look like a lab rat?"

"I promise I'll make it look cool." You bribe him to do it. You'll do extra hours with Dove if he lets you do his makeup.

He's in his office chair and you're sitting cross-legged on his desk, working on his face like an artist with their canvas.

He's sweating and constantly checks the door because anyone can walk in, even Joe or the Dogs, and see him wearing makeup. He would have to crawl into a turtle shell and go into hiding for the rest of his life if his Dad caught him.

"Jesus, are you almost done?"

"Just about done." You put the lid back. "Do you like it?"

He checks the tiny mirror on the wall. "Oh." He nods. "Did you superglue gems on my face?!"

The door opens. Mr. Blonde is standing there, jaw dropped on the floor.

[godlizzza]

I require more middle aged men being thirsty for each other!!

Herbert had always been fond of bodies.

He appreciated their intricacies, the millions of cells that were required to produce the slightest movement. He marvelled at the complex systems that worked in harmony to power a body, provide all its needs, everything perfectly synchronised like a well-oiled machine. A body was an ecosystem, an entire microcosm of life inside a life.

He spent all his days looking at bodies, taking them apart and putting them back together, and he never grew tired of it.

Yes, he liked the mechanics of the human form, but he loved Dan's body above all others.

At first it had seemed odd to him to lust after Dan. After all, there was nothing particularly unique about him- two arms, two legs, 206 bones- so why did Herbert feel an uncomfortable desire for him? He craved Dan's fingers, the bend of his ligaments that would bring his touch to Herbert's skin. His back, broad and strong, contained firm muscles Herbert wanted to wrap his arms around. His lips, nothing more than a couple of casings of mucosal membrane, sent shivers down Herbert's spine whenever he spoke.

Herbert stared at those lips now, watching from behind as Dan dabbed at the cut snaking up from the top of his mouth with a damp wadded up piece of toilet paper. He winced and the paper came away dotted with red. Dan glanced at Herbert's reflection in the mirror and smirked.

"That's the last time I let you convince me we don't need to fix that dip in the stairs," he said.

Herbert swept away from the door and up behind Dan. He embraced him, locking his hands together over Dan's chest and resting his forehead between his shoulder blades. With Dan bent over like that, it was easy for him to press a kiss to the nape of his neck, revelling in the resulting shiver.

"You're right," Herbert said, his voice muffled against the fluffy robe Dan had slung on in favour of a shirt. Herbert approved of this choice.

"I'm sorry, did I just hear that right?" Dan asked, his voice edged with laughter. "You just said I'm right? Who hit their head again? Me or you?"

Dan turned in his arms, but Herbert didn't ease up on him, making Dan lean back against the sink to support both their weight. His hands went to Herbert's hips, loosely gripping him through the cotton blend of his slacks. He tipped his chin down until his nose nearly brushed the frame of Herbert's glasses and smiled, pulling at the raw split skin over his lip. A dot of blood winked under the dim light like a ruby.

"I'm perfectly capable of admitting I should've pestered you into fixing that sooner," Herbert allowed and Dan snorted.

"Ah, yes, there's where it all went wrong," Dan chuckled, the worn lines around his eyes creasing.

The soft fondness Dan was looking at him with was at odds with the heat burning in Herbert's stomach. He leaned forward and kissed that affectionate smile, looping his hands up to clutch at Dan's shoulders. He swallowed the muffled grunt Dan let out, pressing closer and relishing in the heat seeping from Dan's body- his firm, exquisite body- and into him.

Dan broke the kiss with a gasp, his grip on Herbert's hips decidedly tighter than it had been before. He blinked at Herbert, his face a picture of astonishment. A streak of blood was smeared across his mouth like lipstick. Herbert ran his tongue over his lips, tasting the sharp tang of Dan's blood there.

Dan huffed out a noise somewhere between a laugh and a choked gargle.

"I know I shouldn't be surprised anymore," he began, voice low and gravelly, "but are you seriously turned on right now?"

Herbert put on a frown. "If you don't want to, that's fine, I'll just take care of myself-"

"No," Dan jumped to say. "No, no. That, uh, won't be necessary."

Herbert smirked. He stepped back, letting his arms slip from Dan's back to grasp the front of his robe and tug him forward. He walked backwards through the house he knew so well, pulling Dan with him like a ship towing a life-raft, until they reached the bedroom.

Dan grinned as Herbert fell back on the mattress, bouncing on the springs, exposing the gash still gleaming on his lip. A fresh rivulet of blood trickled to the corner of his mouth, gathering in a wrinkle. Herbert watched it keenly, thrilling as Dan kicked the door shut behind him.

"You're so weird," Dan whispered, shucking the robe. It fell to the ground, pooling around his feet, leaving him standing only in his thin sweatpants. He crawled over Herbert on the bed, his impressive frame crowding him against the sheets. "Anyone ever tell you that?"

"You have. Many times." Herbert ran his hands up from Dan's hips, over the pouch of his stomach and across the downy hairs brushing his chest. He cupped Dan's face and brought his bloody lips down to his. He said, "It's why you married me."

Herbert kissed him again, sighing inwardly and the perfect unison their bodies slipped into when pressed together.

[bookishcatcafe]

Ristretto in Pink (A Huskerdust Fic) Part One

It is strange how quiet one’s home is without anyone else there. The afternoon glow already found its way into my rooms through the fibres of the window-shades, my quiet lightful guests. I finished munching on some scrambled eggs and after sipping the last bit of orange juice, dabbed my lips with a napkin. Work started in a half hour, so I had time to get ready. Despite the limitations from Val, I had a side-gig and just like with Val’s shoots, I showed up with the up-most professionalism. I ain’t gonna fuck around.

              I buttoned my shirt and grabbed my apron and began leaving. Somehow, there was time to do just basic makeup; pink blush, eyeshadow, and a bit of black lipstick for my upper lip. Such a doll. Patting Fat Nugget’s on the head, albeit sleeping, his snores seemed to be my silent farewell for the day. Such a cutie.

                                                                                  ---

              Down the street, Angel passed a radio shop, multiple bars, and soon at Depressio Café. Shit. It was already max capacity and the once quiet ambience was bustling with chatter and coffee machines grinding and pouring away. He quickly rushed into the back, during which he greeted his co-workers, and clocked in.

              The rush lasted what felt like five minutes, but was only an hour and a half. Around four hours left. Angel walked back toward the front of the bar, stocking up the paper cups from what he had grabbed from the back, when he heard the usual ding of the door sensor.

              “Hello! Welcome!” Angel and the rest of his co-workers exclaimed. He quickly hobbled over to the register, fixing up his apron as he tapped onto the touch screen.

              “Whenever your ready, Sir.” He said, watching as this cat fellow eyed the pastry case. The man smelt of booze. The cat scratched his chin and pointed up at the menu.

              “Irish coffee.”

              “We uh…Well I know we’re in Hell but would it surprise you that we can’t make that?” The cat tilted his head, eyeing up the menu again, before replying gruffly.

              “That’s a first. Fine. Just an espresso.” He said as he pulled out his wallet. As Angel put in his order, he felt his heart skip a beat and a heat grow within his breast. The cat was rather handsome. He wore a pair of black suspenders, a small black top hat, playing cards within the rim of the hat, and a nice black and white overcoat and matching pleats. He looked like a magician—an boozey one from his smell—which made him all the more interesting.

              “Two dollars…and a name?”

              “Hm?” The cat pulled out two bills as he looks at Angel with an inquisitive curl of his brow.

              “A name for da order.”

              “Oh. Husk.”

              “Hussskkk…” he sounded out slowly and quietly, typing in the name. He took Husk’s money and smiled a toothy grin, his golden tooth poking out from above his bottom lip. A presentation of honest positivity beamed out of him, from his smile to his inserts of Angel-like Italiano-motifs. He puffed up his chest as he put the money away and waved goodbye to Husk.

“It’ll be on the bar in a moment. Have a nice day!”

              Husk gives a hesitant yet awkward smile back, nodding as he sits down at a booth near the far window. Angel moves from the register and goes to the bar, grinding the beans and preparing his portafilter with now packed in espresso grounds. Husk looked back at the bar ever-so-often as the spider made his order. He recognized him from a lotta posters and billboards, even internet ads: Angel. The Angel Dust. So, the actor has got a side-hustle. Wouldn’t expect it to be this. Yet—I hear he is Italian so, maybe it is nothing too off. Assumptions aside, Husk jumped a bit in his seat when he heard his name called out. He walked over to the bar, seeing Angel placing his drink in a small white ceramic mug.

              “Here ya go.”

              “Thanks, Angel.” Husk said as he grabbed his cup. When he turned around, Angel glanced at his back, seeing the slight puff of his feathery wings hiding beneath that suit of his. Who is this guy?

              Husk sipped at his drink and sighed. It wasn’t half bad. What other skills did Angel have outside of fucking? He watched out the window and rested his head against the wall, occasionally sipping his espresso. Soon, he unknowingly nodded off.

[canonfatbisexualenby]

Rating: G

Word Count: 1k+

Fandom: F/ull H/ouse

Pairing: D.anny T.anner x C.atie

A/N: Danny isn’t even in this one but is mentioned so I’m still calling it a ‘Dannie’ ficlet 😅. Inspired by the last episode of season one! S.tacey Q heads rise up!!

Catie adjusted her neon green hoop earrings nervously as she walked up to the record store.

One of her favorite musicians, Stacey Q, was signing autographs there. She rarely got chances to do something like this, usually due to her two jobs.

Her best friend and grocery store co-worker, Jo, had graciously agreed to cover for her so she could do so. And it didn’t hurt that Catie had promised she’d get her an autograph as well.

As she got close she saw that the line was almost out the door. She sighed and peered at her plastic pink watch. She had roughly two hours to get in and out.

Catie walked up to the back of the line. A couple of girls a stone’s toss away from her giggled. The man directly in front of her stood and occasionally shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

When she got a little closer and was able to get into the store, her eyes had to adjust. She got on her tippy toes and looked over the guy’s shoulder, seeing if Stacey had decided to be fashionably late or not.

She saw the woman and instantly shot down, scared they’d make eye contact too soon and somehow, she’d embarrass herself.

She decided she’d use part of the wait time to make sure her clothes were right and in place, along with her makeup and hair.

She normally had her hair up for work, but she decided she wanted to go for a more casual, laid back look to meet the pop star.

She had teased her reddish brown hair at the crown only slightly, not wanting to look like she’d stuck her finger in an electrical socket. Her long-ish bangs were controlled with a purple barrette in the shape of a musical note, an old birthday gift from Jo.

For her makeup she had decided something subtle would go best with her bright clothing and accessories. She’d smudged a bit of lilac eyeshadow on her lids, along with lining her blueish green eyes with a medium brown pencil. She completed the look with a peach lipstick and clear mascara.

Her outfit consisted of a baby pink t-shirt with the sleeves cut off, an acid-washed denim miniskirt, leggings that matched her eyeshadow, and bright pink Converse.

She pulled her compact out of the black vinyl purse she was carrying, giving herself a once over.

Catie was at the midway point in line when she heard another group of young girls enter. One of them snickered and she thought it sounded familiar, but was too excited about meeting Stacey to ponder it any further.

She smoothed out her skirt for what felt like the fiftieth time and reached into her bag again, this time for one of her many perfume samples. She decided today was the day to use the last of her coveted ‘Beautiful’ vial. She spritzed a couple of sprays on her wrists, dabbing the excess on her neck and behind her ears.

She decided to pop an Altoid for fresh breath as well.

The line finally moved enough that it was almost her turn for a signature. She pinched her cheeks, suddenly realizing she had forgotten blush, and made sure her hair was just right.

“Next.” She heard the pop star say. She inhaled deeply and took a few steps forward.

She pulled the copies of Hard Machine, Stacey’s newest album, out of her purse, scared her suddenly clammy hands would make her drop them.

“Hi Ms. Q.” She heard herself say, but her voice sounded distant and fuzzy. She was so nervous.

“Stacey is fine.” The woman looked at her with heavily made up brown eyes. They glittered under the store’s fluorescent lights.

“Of course...” Catie responded, not sure why she’d assumed a woman only five years older than herself would want to be called ‘miss’.

“Me and my best friend Jo are huge fans.” she hooked her left thumb into one of her belt loops and nervously fidgeted with it.

“Um...” Stacey smiled slightly, causing Catie to raise her fidgeting hand to her earring. “I’ve been listening to you since the SSQ days.” She placed the CDs on the table and tried her best to smile earnestly. Her stomach was full of butterflies.

“I was wondering if I could bother you for an extra autograph?” She placed her hands behind her back, now fumbling with the strap of her watch. “Jo couldn’t make it, I have a twenty with me if I need to cover any kind of fee.” she rushed the words out.

Stacey laughed and Catie felt her stomach drop. The woman’s earrings swayed as her shoulders shook. Catie couldn’t quite tell it she was angry or happy.

Stacey lifted a hand to her mouth. She opened her eyes, and then opened her mouth “No need to bribe me.” she quipped. Catie felt herself flush despite her best efforts not to do so.

“Right.” Catie felt around her head for her barrette, trying to distract herself from what she thought was a social faux pas. She couldn’t believe she had just offered a huge pop star money. And only twenty dollars, at that.

“You’re sure you want me to sign the CDs?” Stacey asked. Catie simply nodded in response. “To...” Stacey looked up “I never caught your name.” Catie straightened her posture slightly and chuckled to herself.

“It’s Catie.” she replied. “To Catie.” Stacey signed the first CD. “And, to Jo.” She beamed as she finished.

Catie grabbed the CDs from Stacey’s hand, their fingertips briefly brushing. She tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. “Thank you so much Stacey, it means a lot to me.”

“It’s my pleasure. Thanks for being a fan.” Stacey smiled widely and shot a peace sign. The woman waved and Catie gave a small wave back.

Catie walked towards the door when she saw a familiar face near the back of the line and realized why the laugh from had sounded so familiar.

It was DJ Tanner, the oldest daughter of one of her regulars at the grocery store, Danny. She saw another girl seemingly her age next to her, the two of them giggling and talking amongst each other.

“DJ?” Catie asked, stopping in her tracks. The young girl suddenly looked concerned, her eyebrows furrowing. The other girl smacked her shoulder lightly.

“Catie!” DJ smiled, almost talking through her teeth. “DJ!” She tried matching her enthusiasm.

“Isn’t it a school day?” Catie asked, genuinely curious. She checked her watched again, seeing if maybe she’d made a mistake about what time it was. The face read one oh five. Her bus would be here soon.

“We were released early...” DJ smiled, but looked nervous “Because of, uh...” she peered down at her shoes. The other girl quickly added “Fire!”.

Catie furrowed her brows and placed a hand on her hip. “And your dad or Jesse or Joey know you’re here?”

“Of course!” DJ replied, rather quickly. Catie decided to give her the benefit of the doubt, not wanting to further pry with a child who was practically a stranger. And she had more important things to do as well that day.

“Well...alright. You two have fun and get back safe.” She waved and exited the store.

As she got closer to her bus stop, she saw another familiar face. It was Joey, one of the men who had moved in with Danny to help out with the girls.

He was with Michelle, the baby, keeping up with her on one of those odd leash contraptions.

Catie honestly thought it was a bit archaic, but she didn’t have any kids so she didn’t think it was her place to vocally criticize.

She figured he had lagged behind DJ and her friend, looking out for Michelle and all.

“Catie!” She heard the man say as her eyes were still on the baby.

She looked up and waved, smiling. Joey picked up Michelle and walked over, smiling back.

He looked down at her hands. Each one was holding a CD, as she didn’t want to possibly smudge the treasured signatures by shoving them into her bag.

“Big Stacey Q fan?” he quipped. Catie chuckled and nodded. “Me and Jo are practically devotees. What about you?” she asked.

“Not really my cup of tea, but DJ loves her. I came down here to get her a signature. She was really bummed about having to miss the whole thing.”

Catie diverted her eyes to the concrete for a brief moment, realizing she had been right about DJ lying. She felt foolish, having being seemingly outsmarted by an eleven year old. It was her trusting nature, she reasoned.

As much as she felt like a fool for having believed the whole ‘fire’ bit, she didn’t think it was her place to reveal to Joey that she wasn’t at school. She quickly looked back up and beamed.

“I’ll bet...” she tried her best to sound earnest. “I think it’s so cool how she appeals to multiple generations!” Catie forced herself to look him in the eye and smile. She then looked down at her watch and made an exaggerated ‘look at the time’ type expression.

“Well, my bus should be here any minute so I better head up to the stop. It was nice seeing you, Joey!” She lowered her gaze to the baby “And you too little Michelle!” Catie cooed and briefly patted the child’s hair. She waved and started to power walk, hoping Joey didn’t have anything else to say or ask.

As Catie got on the bus she sighed. She had successfully gotten the autographs and not gotten DJ in trouble, at least by her own doing. She pulled her traveling CD player out of her purse and opened up the newly signed jewel case. She popped the CD in and hit ‘play’.

Putting her headphones on, she looked out the window, humming along to the music.

Taglist 🏷: @gideongrovel-reblogs | @deadlock | @bob-in-tekken-8

(Please don’t hesitate to ask to be added or removed!)

[ainyan]

New year fic writer asks #5, please (and a Happy New Year to you!): 5. Which WIP is first on your list to complete this year? Will you post a snippet?

Hmm. I've got some long fics I'm working on - both a new Modern AU Kalicred and my MSQ rewrite AU Woven Souls. I don't know if either will be completed this year, but I can give you some snippets of what I've done, under the cut <3

From Misadventures in Modern Eorzea:

Then she just closed her eyes and laid her head against the closet door, waiting for her racing heartbeat to slow. She had no idea what was going on, or why she was reacting to Thancred like this. Sure, she’d always had a little crush on him, but it was the kind of crush you could ignore, that low-grade appreciation for a smooth-talking, handsome man who was absolutely off-limits. 

Like crushing on your best friend.

“Get over it, Kali,” she muttered to herself. “Yeah, he’s hot. He’s always been hot. He’s also your best damn friend and if you fuck this up, there’s no coming back from it.” Steadier, she pushed away from the door and studied her clothing. She selected a casual sundress, as it was still the tail-end of summer out there and the weather combined with the inevitable effects of a city like a concrete and steel cage meant it was hot and sultry.

Kind of like Than-

Shut up, she bitched at her brain, and resolutely turned her back on her closet, stripping off her lounging clothes and tossing on the dress and a pair of cute sandals. She took her hair down from its messy ponytail and quickly braided it, letting it hang down her back. A few dabs of lipstick, a brush of eyeshadow, and boom. Perfect for a lunch date with her bestie.

Lunch with her bestie. It wasn’t a date.Damn it. Firmly shunting her thoughts aside, she stepped up to the door and through it.

From Woven Souls:

Kal’istae’s room was halfway down the hall, buried between Minfilia and Yda’s. Thancred stood outside of the closed door, staring at it as he fought with himself. He could tell Minfilia he’d checked on her, that she was fine, that all was well. He knew  the Au Ra was excited and nervous - and just a bit frustrated about something - but that she was also nearly ready. It would be fine. It would all work out. It would…

Cursing himself, he lifted his knuckles and rapped smartly against the door.

“Come in!”

Hells. Thancred pushed open the door and stepped in, only to be presented with the back of a Kal’istae in a gown he’d never seen, arms tucked up behind her as she rooted around for the unfastened buttons. “Yda? Is that you? Can you help me?”

She should have known it wasn’t Yda; he imagined she would have if he couldn’t feel the seething mass of anxiety and frustration that was simmering in her breast. In silence, he crossed the room and reached out, quickly and efficiently buttoning up the back of her dress. The pale lavender pearls danced up her spine from the base of her tail to mid-back, where the rich indigo fabric of her dress framed her marginally paler skin and obsidian scales.

Had he known she had freckles on her back? His fingers itched to touch them, trace constellations amongst them, and he folded his hands into fists to prevent himself from taking such a liberty.

He watched as her shoulders relaxed, felt her emotions recede. “Thank you,” she said feelingly, turning with a rustle of skirts. “I’d forgotten how difficult it is to put on a dress; I haven’t worn one that wasn’t a glamour… well, as long as I can remem…”

She trailed off as she met Thancred’s dark eyes, a flush rising in her cheeks. “You’re not Yda.”

He glanced down at himself. “No, I’m definitely not Yda.”

[rosemaze-reveries]

“strikes” 🃏

memories from joker's time in hullabaloo

i thought abt him & short circuited & suddenly there were words

Anyone would know that clowns are inherently very clever, funneling all they can reach into jokes for their acts. Likewise, that same cleverness could be horrific to manage if their intentions turned sour.

Joker thought he'd seen the worst of it-- his colleagues had been ripping him apart all his life, after all.

It began with the "secret admirers" who wrote him fake love letters, complete with lipstick stains and envelopes spritzed with perfume. Or he’d wake up to find that he had 'misplaced' his prosthetic leg—really, how do you lose that in a one-person circus tent?—only to later find it hung on a tree somewhere.

And then there was the same joke he heard every show, by someone who thought themselves to be the pinnacle of comedy: "This show ought to be at half-price, eh? Why, we're only watchin' half a clown!"

As long as his audience laughed in the end, that was fine.

His emotions often got the better of him off-stage. But those blubbering tears were what garnered him his fame in the first place, so he supposed he was just exceptional at his role.

Natalie caught him crying once before. Joker would never forget it. The pitying smile on her face had struck an odd chord with him.

"Oh, you crybaby," she cooed, glossy curls bouncing as her head shook. "Wipe your tears, would you?" Then she pulled out a handkerchief and dabbed his cheeks.

That alone startled the tears straight out of him. His cheeks colored, his eyes widened, and he fumbled to thank her for her kindness. And once he finally reigned in his awful lovesickness, he had a moment of clarity: the humiliation he'd endured all these years was an unavoidable part of working as a clown. Maybe he'd be better off taking it as inspiration for his own acts.

By nightfall, his morale dropped again. He went out for a cigarette and watched the stars and wished he could resolve this war he had with himself. He loved to make people laugh. But a part of him, somewhere, wished he could smile the same way the handsome clowns did too.

[linnorabeifong]

Happy Birthday To Me... I Guess

Summary: It’s Asami’s twenty-first birthday, but she doesn’t feel like celebrating. That is until an unlikely friend turns her day around with a strange gift that leads Asami to discover her own past and unearth old secrets.

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49461007/chapters/124826812#main

Note: This series is a work in progress that started three months ago. I'm already nine chapters deep. Currently writing chapter ten. This work was the second thing I posted to Ao3 so it's very rough, but the plot is fun if you're looking for a light read and like Asami-centric fics. It's focused on her learning about her mother and finding out...inconvenient information along the way. There is some background KyaLin if you're into that. It's slow burn korrasami, and not cannon compliant. The air kiddos and the entire krew are present as background characters as is Opal.

Chapter 1

Today was the big day, September 21st but to Asami it felt like any other. Lonely, busy, cold. She woke up early to an empty house. Brushed her teeth, styled her hair, washed her face, dabbed on perfume and carefully applied her signature red lipstick. She padded downstairs to make herself her usual tea, catching sight of the kitchen telephone through the corner of her eye. Her hands itched with the desire to call up a particular someone. To hear that voice again, to catch up, to just have someone she could talk to honestly. It was futile. Asami turned away, she knew the person on the other end would not pick up. She had tried before. She breathed in sharply, her tea that was hot just a moment ago was now ice to the touch. A tear fell into the cup and then another. She pretended not to notice and returned upstairs to reapply her makeup.

The rest of her day was spent sitting through tedious meetings, listening to investors drone on for what felt like forever. Reviewing budgets, supervising the Sato factories and sketching up plans for new buildings. She fidgeted with the pen in her hands and flipped through her sketchbook, realizing none of her ideas looked quite right. The scale was off, the layout wasn’t practical, where could she find the funding ? It was times like these when she missed her parents. Maybe her mother would have something encouraging to say or perhaps her father, the genius, would have a miraculous idea. To tell the truth she didn’t actually know what they would do. She hadn’t spoken to her father in years and she never really got the chance to know her mother. She glanced over her sketches again, sighed, gave up and returned home early.

To her surprise she found a large package on her doorstep. She brought it inside, sat it on her desk, and inspected it. The pink box had a large blue bow on it, and a piece of paper reading “To ‘Sami” in neat flowing script was tucked away neatly underneath the bow. Despite its size the package was light, and oddly enough smelled strangely familiar. The perfume scent was like an itch she couldn’t scratch. She knew she recognized it from somewhere but couldn’t recall exactly where. It was decidedly feminine, velvety, rich but not too heavy. Her curiosity got the better of her. She quickly reached out and unraveled the silk ribbons, eagerly lifting the lid off the box to uncover white tissue paper. She peeled back the delicate paper revealing a stunning floor length dress underneath. It was a snow white, silky affair. The fabric was fine and slightly sheer. She lifted it up in her arms and noticed the tiny jasmine flowers embroidered all over it in silver thread catching the light. The design snaked up the cuffs of the sleeves and the hem of the skirt. Forming an almost star like pattern. It was brilliant. The waist was cinched and emphasized by a silver ribbon. The skirt was voluminous. She sat the dress down and looked into the box to discover the accompanying slip. It was a soft pink and made of a more opaque silk, sleeveless and by the looks of it very form fitting. Cherry blossoms were concentrated along the bust in gold thread, and their petals descended down to the waist.

Asami could see the vision of the dress with the slip underneath in her mind. It was beautiful, the skirt just barely kissing the floor, the clever silhouette flattering her figure, “but why would anyone send me such an elaborate gift ?” she wondered. Then she realized it was her birthday. She forgot her own birthday. She looked at the tag of the dress, hoping it would give her a clue as to its origins. She was not prepared in the slightest for what she saw next. “Yasuko Tanaka” the tag read. Her heart skipped a beat at the familiar name. It couldn’t really be her mother’s, could it ? No, the last name was wrong. Unless…She didn’t know her mother’s maiden name. Could it really be ?

[firefeufuego]

I posted 130 times in 2022

That's 67 more posts than 2021!

56 posts created (43%)

74 posts reblogged (57%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@thequibblah

@clare-with-no-i

@theesteemedladydebourgh

@firefeufuego

@emeralddoeadeer

I tagged 113 of my posts in 2022

Only 13% of my posts had no tags

#fic recs - 28 posts

#my writing - 20 posts

#it (not the clown) - 11 posts

#jily - 10 posts

#jily discourse - 8 posts

#jily fic - 6 posts

#spotify wrapped 2022 - 6 posts

#my fic - 5 posts

#but he's a little bit too far away - 5 posts

#jily week 2022 - 5 posts

Longest Tag: 120 characters

#wanting to write james potter without his heart is just wanting to write every 2000s male villain in a high school movie

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Opening scene from if it’s a crime, then i’m guilty

This is a fic idea that’s been percolating for a few months and I finally have time to get started on it. Please enjoy the first scene from the first chapter, which should be out soon!

An hour and a half, that’s how long Lily had spent arranging curls and applying cold cream and dabbing rouge at just the right point of her cheekbones. Her lipstick had been applied with more care than she’d used on her wedding day, a thought that was had and then immediately banished to a box in her mind titled Inconvenient and Therefore Unreal. There it joined the worst fact about that morning: that she wasn’t even late. She had gotten up early just for this, had thought about this day and how she wanted to look for it for far longer than was anywhere near reasonable.

The reminder of her folly sent her from the mirror and back into the bedroom where her husband was just now stirring. There was more colour in his cheeks this morning, just as the doctor had promised, and she felt the ball of tension that had formed in the pit of her stomach at the first mention of the word recurrence start to ease.

‘Good morning, dear.’ Henry pulled himself up to rest against the headboard, making no motion to try to get out of bed. Her days of scolding must finally be paying off. ‘You’re looking very well, is there a particular occasion?’

Coming to smooth the blankets and fluff his pillows, she breezed past the question rather than lie. ‘Who cares what I look like when you’ve finally stopped looking like a ghost! Do you think Dr Johnston will mind if I give you some bacon with breakfast?’

His eyes lit up, as she knew they would, and she left for the kitchen with no further comment on her appearance. She didn’t, as a rule, lie to her husband—she’d never had much cause to. Hers was exactly the kind of quiet, comfortable life she’d signed up for when she agreed to marry him—a material blandness that left ample room to fill her mind with the intricate, often infuriating but always intriguing beast that was the Common Law.

These years of marriage to one of Britain’s finest solicitors had, according to said husband, provided a legal education nearly equal to the one offered at Oxford—and as a former tutor at Balliol College, he’d be best placed to know. Lily would find out today she supposed, one way or the other.

Fifteen minutes; two fried eggs; and a rasher of crispy, perfectly browned bacon later, she set the modest meal on a tray at Henry’s lap and watched him eat as she changed into the exquisitely cut dove-grey suit that she did not at all buy specifically for this occasion. To her satisfaction and relief, he managed to clear his plate. ‘They said it was a good sign, your appetite coming back, didn’t they?’

He smiled at her with the kind of fondness that had graced his every expression towards her since the moment they met. ‘They did, dear. I’m feeling much improved today. I think I might talk to the doctor about getting back to work at my next appointment. Speaking of, have you had a chance to check in on Howard and see how he’s faring without me?’

Howard—the son of a duke who’d swanned in as Henry’s Clerk the way one might swan into a bar—was faring fine, as far as he was concerned, but was not, in matter of fact, doing any work. ‘Yes, he showed me his final draft of the brief in the Campbell case, it looked good.’ A blunt faced lie, but the truth would force Henry out of bed far before he was well enough. Besides, there was a brief for the Campbell case that did look good to Lily, if only because she’d written it herself.

‘Oh. that’s excellent to hear. Maybe some independence is what that young man needed all along. You’ve reminded him of the meeting today with Mrs Campbell’s barrister, haven’t you? You know he doesn’t always have the best head for dates.’

Lord Elliot Howard didn’t have the best head for anything, but Lily had long since given up pointing this out. ‘I have. He says he’s well prepared. I’ve heard the barrister’s another awful plummy son of a peer so that they should get along nicely.’ She was overcompensating. Even though it was true—he was plummy and had cruised suspiciously easily into the higher echelons of his chambers for someone his age. He had been cruel and cavalier and if Lily still hadn’t seen a man more lovely to look at, then that said nothing about his character.

‘Potter?’ She tried not to react at the sound of the name. ‘Oh no, I should say they’re birds of an altogether different feather, he and Howard. I had the distinct pleasure of teaching James, he’s quite brilliant.’

This was not particularly helpful information for Lily to know. She had a very simple, almost innocent, plan—to meet James Potter and be so sophisticated and intelligent and impressive that she would somehow make her mark on him. In her varied imaginings of this meeting, she’d wanted James dumbstruck and foolish, not brilliant.

The clock chimed, and she hurried into her shoes, gloves, and hat. ‘I’ve got an appointment with Petunia, hence the finery. I shouldn’t be gone long.’

Henry nodded, picking up a book from the bedside table. ‘I’d say have fun, but…’

She laughed. ‘I’ll bring back some lamb for dinner. Try to rest when you need to.’

‘Yes, dear.’

There were moments with Henry when she felt jarred by the middle-aged domesticity of their life together. She wondered if actresses in films felt the same—hearing the director say ‘cut’ and jolting them out of a role. She didn’t regret the choice she’d made, and if given the same circumstances, she would have made it again. And yet, she never could entirely shake the feeling that she was Lily Evans—or worse, Lily…something else—appearing in the role of Henry Watson’s wife long after the cameras were meant to have stopped rolling

37 notes - Posted June 25, 2022

#4

if it’s a crime, then i’m guilty - ch 1 (m)

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw his tall, broad-shouldered frame and the perpetual glorious chaos of his hair passing by the window. Something rose up between her ribs and expanded out into her chest, a flower whose seed had laid long dormant, planted under summer skies and watered by a smile that had once made her blood boil and then made it burn and—

Fear, or something that should have been fear, slid down like sweat on the back of her neck. It occurred to her then, though it should have occurred to her far sooner, that this—seeing him again—might be dangerous. That where it might be safe for her to think of him like other married women thought of Cary Grant or Clark Gable, having him in the same room as her might pitch her over lines she couldn’t cross.

-or it’s the 30s, James is a barrister, Lily is married, and the only thing that will distract them from their mutual longing is fixing Britain’s family law system.

65 notes - Posted June 30, 2022

#3

but he’s a little bit too far away - part one

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A decade after they met as cadets for The Times, the toll of James chasing stories in war zones is starting to hit home for Lily.

My entry for the final day of Jily Week 2022, run by the phenomenal @thegobletofweasleys .

Prompt: Foreign Travel.

69 notes - Posted July 24, 2022

#2

she's hiding from me now - part 2 of but he's a little bit too far away

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93 notes - Posted August 29, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

in the morning when i wake (e)

Third instalment in the ‘it’s about the Gazing’ series

Excerpt:

With trembling hands, James brings the smaller piece of parchment closer to his face and starts to read.

To the love of my life,

You idiot. Get back here.

I’ll be in your room.

Lily.

playlist here

95 notes - Posted February 15, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[januaryembrs]

ANOTHER NIGHT | Matt Murdock x reader

Description: Matt threatens your brother after he finds out he’s hurt you, and makes you a promise that blurs the line of your friendship.

Length: 3.5k

Trigger Warnings: familial abuse, broken nose, hinted at alcoholism and cheating in family

main masterlist

authors note: I have fallen down a matt murdock rabbit hole someone STop me. Also this dialogue and scenario is 100% taken from the book/show Normal People because I’m in love with this scene.

“Hey Matty, um,” His ears pricked up the second he’d answered the phone. You didn’t sound like yourself, even without the super sensitive hearing he could have known that. You sounded shaken, teary even, and oddly enough as though you had caught a cold in the few hours since you had last seen him in the office with the way your nose was bunged up. “Do you still have the number of that nurse you were talking about, your, um, friend?”

Now he was concerned.

You were never one to make a big deal out of anything. He’d been there when you’d fallen off your rollerblades in college and skinned your knees and your arms deep, and still you’d insisted you just needed to dab it with an alcohol wipe. So why on earth would you need to talk to Claire?

“What’s happened? Are you okay?” He rushed, already up off the sofa, his dinner long forgotten as he reached around for his blazer he knew was on the coat rack somewhere.

You laughed a tiny bit, humourless and with a small gasp at the end that told him it had hurt you to do so, “Yeah, I’m fine, Matty. I just had a bit of an accident is all, it’s silly really. I’m sure I’ll be fine. I just need you to ask her-”

“I’m coming over,” Matt said firmly, grabbing his stick and leaving no room for protest. But of course, you being you, you did anyway.

“No!” Your raise in volume had you audibly wincing, and your voice only sounded even more clogged after that, “No, Matt. I just needed to know if I needed to take myself to the emergency room, I don’t need you here.”

“I’m on my way,” He said, practically ignoring every word you just said. If you were hurt so bad you were considering the ER, he wanted to be with you. You were too stubborn and independent for your own good, and that was coming from him.

“My brother’s here,” You finally confessed to the problem. Matt stopped half way out his doorway, ready to slot the key in the lock and head out onto the streets of Hell’s Kitchen, prepared to walk the few blocks down to your apartment by himself. It was then he realised what the frantic denial of help meant.

Matt had known since college things were never normal in your family. You never went home for the big holiday like most people would, staying in your halls for Christmas and Thanksgiving while everyone else went back to celebrate it with their own kin. Foggy had always questioned it as to why you stayed, you weren’t like Matt who unfortunately had no parents to spend holidays with. You had always brushed him off, saying the journey time wasn’t worth it and that your mom was too busy with work to pick you up. But it was on one of those Christmas nights, when it was just you and Matt in his dorm watching old movies that you told him the real reason you hated going home.

As long as you could remember, your parents had not loved each other. Your father conveniently went on long weekends for ‘business’ almost every week, though somehow he always ended up returning home smelling of his secretary’s perfume come Monday morning. Your mother, in between being glued to her laptop with her own stressful job, was often seen with a glass of pinot in her hand to wind down.

You knew it was to drown out that wretched scent. It made it much easier to pretend she didn’t see the lipstick stains when she was out of it.

This left you and your older brother, Joe. He had always hated you, you were convinced of it. Before your dad’s weekend trips started, you had completely stolen the show when you had been born. The boy was seething jealous to the core about how your parents and family saw their bouncing baby girl, while he was left over to be the responsible older sibling. When he was little, it had been pushing you off the swings, pulling your hair hard enough to yank some of it out, tearing the heads and arms off every one of your dolls until you were left with morbid, plastic corpses to play with as you cried over your lost beauties. Everything you had, he’d always ruined.

As he got older, he stopped with all the physical assaults on you. Before, it had been almost excusable, just a little boy teasing his sister a little too harshly, as your mother would tell you. But what came after was so much worse.

You struggled to make friends in school, your quiet nature deeming you antisocial. Hell, even in college, Matt and Foggy were your only real friends, and that was because you’d been paired with Foggy first term for a class project which led to you spending time with the boys. Joe always found a way to pick on you for your lack of social circle. You tried locking him out of your room altogether, trying to shut out his incessant picking at your loneliness, but he always found a way to make you feel shitty about yourself.

You had told him before you were scared of your brother, that he wasn’t just hurtful in his words but he was intimidating too. He was broad, the classic athletic type that had made him so popular in high school as cliche as it sounded. You had never said if he’d hurt you before, other than the petty jealousy he’d exuded when he was a kid, but it didn’t take a genius to figure out why you sounded so panicked.

Your brother was in town, he was staying at your apartment for the weekend, and coincidentally you just happened to have had ‘an accident’ that had injured you.

“Y/N,” He sounded calm as he said your name, but he felt the shake of pure fury in his key wielding hand. “Did he do something to you?”

You were quiet on the other end of the line. You found it odd he always had a way of knowing you were lying, always, so you gave up a long time ago even trying. Yet you still didn’t have the words needed to admit it to him.

“Matt, please. I’m fine-” Was all you were able to say before he put the phone down. You knew he’d be on his way, and your nerves were shot to hell as to how he was going to make it through the dark streets of New York on his own, but then Matt was always more capable than you’d have thought for a blind person, as ignorant as it sounded.

You cradled your nose gently, inspecting it in the hallways mirror. It had already started bruising and looked as though there was a slight dent in it that you could have been sure wasn’t there before. The bloodied tissues you’d tentatively stuffed up there to stem the bleeding were pretty much full now, the crimson liquid dripping slowly down your lip. You attempted to clean it up a bit with a fresh tissue, but that one was quickly filled too.

You sighed, thinking back to how scarily calm Matt had sounded before he’d hung up the phone. This was going to get messy.

Your brother seemed none the wiser to what, or who, was coming for him, not that there was anything you could do now except pray Matt would be too occupied helping you out to care he was sitting in your living room, drinking a bottle of your beer with a bitter look on his face. You weren’t lying when you said it was an accident, but then again perhaps you were lying to yourself in denial that your brother would have intentionally done this to you.

You had been arguing in the kitchen to start with. Your brother had needed a place to stay while he was seeing some baseball game with his friends. He was too much of a cheapskate to pay for a hotel himself and wanted you to stick your neck out for him. You had protested of course, but one word to your mother and father and suddenly you were a selfish daughter and sister who didn’t appreciate all her family had done for her. So, you were stuck with the piece of shit for the weekend.

Of course, even with your favour to him he still found reason to pick on you. This time it was over your newest business venture with Matt and Foggy.

“So you’re just their secretary really?” He’d sneered, seeing the letter head clearly stating ‘Nelson and Murdock’, your name omitted from the business. “I’ll bet you slept with both of them to get the job,”

“I got the job because I’m a good lawyer, Joe,” You seethed, throwing your coat over the seat in a huff. You’d had a long day at the office as it was, you didn’t need this shit getting home, “I chose not to have my name in the business, it wasn’t that I’m not good enough,”

“Yeah right,” Joe chuckled darkly, “Even that blind freak is better at seeing through people's shit than you are,” He taunted, grabbing himself a beer out of your fridge.

That was when you’d lost it. You started shouting back and forth, dragging up things from your past that neither of you had never gotten over, not that you ever thought you would.

“You were always jealous of me! I was always so much smarter than you, Joe, and you fucking despised me for it,”

“I despise you for your pity party personality. It’s no wonder you never had anyone who gave a shit about you,”

You screamed at each other a bit more, feeling like you were children again with the way your throat hurt from the yelling. You saw him continue to search through your cupboards for something to eat no doubt, and it infuriated you how he still saw everything you owned as something he could just take, even after all these years.

In a rage, you slammed the cabinet door shut, grabbing his attention. You had never been so physical with your anger, yet part of you felt alive you were finally starting to fight back. He couldn’t keep taking what you had built for yourself.

Your feeling of self accomplishment had been short lived as you saw your defiance flash red in his eyes. You barely had a second for the dread to wash over you as he grabbed the handle to the cupboard and threw it open once more with a force that would have surely broken if off its hinges had you not acted as a wall to stop it from swinging outwards.

You heard a sudden crack as the wood made contact with your face, the shock of it stealing all the breath from your lungs. You gave an unattractive groan of pain as it registered that that very much fucking hurt.

It ached almost immediately and you realised there was blood gushing onto your mouth and floor when you parted your lips to swear and it was filled with metal.

You were snapped out of your mind racing as to exactly how it had all gone so wrong when you heard a pounding on the door. That would be Matt.

You tried wiping up the blood some more to hide the extent of the damage, which was silly since he couldn’t see it anyway. You opened the door before Matt could practically knock it down with the force at which he was banging his fist against it, your eyes immediately noticing how out of breath he seemed. He must have practically ran to your apartment, something you could chide him over later.

“Matty-”

“What did he do?” He asked. You’d never heard him use such a furious tone. You felt yourself shrink back from him as he pushed his way into the apartment, and it seemed only then with your nervous disposition that Matt tried to regulate his emotions. He took a deep breath, his hand tentatively lifting to cup your face.

He could taste iron in the air, he could hear the congestion in your nose and the way you breathed lightly through your mouth, and he put the pieces together before you could speak. “I think my nose is broken,” You mumbled, words paining you to get out as they vibrated through your nasal cavity and to your affliction site.

Matt drew a deep breath, his thumb ever so gently reaching over to swipe under your nose, to feel for himself what he knew was there. He felt a hot, sticky liquid he knew all too well from his nightly routine, but this time it was different. This time it was you hurt, not some thug or even himself. It was your blood he had on his hands.

He swallowed heavily, tucking your hair behind your ear in a quick, affectionate gesture to try and comfort you the best he could with the rage he felt.

“Go stand outside, we’ll go to my apartment. I’ll be right out.” Matt said, quiet enough to console you but calm enough to scare you as to what he was going to do.

You weren’t stupid. You knew not to protest further when Matt was like this and so you followed his instruction, simply hoping whatever was going to happen would be quick.

You didn't ask any questions, you just left.

Matt felt his anger quadruple once you had left the room. He locked the door behind you so there was no way you would be able to see what was about to happen. If he could protect you from anything, it would be this.

He heard your brother in the living room standing up to see who was at the door and advance into the hallway.

“Where’s Y/N?” Joe asked, false concern in his voice that only infuriated Matthew that bit more. In an split second, he had your brother pressed against the wall with a strength that even surprised him.

“What the fuck-”

“You listen here you little prick,” Matt cut Joe’s cries of shock off with a deep, threatening voice that usually only came out when he was messing up criminals in the dark streets of Hell’s Kitchen as the Devil.

Yet here he was as Matt Murdock, threatening your brother. Saintly, law abiding, Matt Murdock.

“I didn’t touch her!” Your brother tried to gasp, but the brunette man simply held his collar that bit tighter.

“Bullshit!” Matt growled, “Now you listen here. You ever touch her again, I’ll hunt you down and I’ll kill you, you hear me?”

“Y-you’re a lawyer. You shouldn’t be threatening me like this,” Joe stuttered, Matt’s weight pressing against his chest and constricting it with ease. The devil’s head turned in consideration of his words, as if to taunt your brother just that bit more.

“You’re right,” Matt said, in a cynically gleeful voice, “You touch her again and I’ll sue you for everything you’re worth. And then, when you’re on your ass, wishing you had so much as pot to piss into, then I’ll kill you. Do I make myself clear?”

- - -

You leaned against Matt’s bathroom counter, holding a small bag of frozen peas to your nose. Matt got off the phone with his 'secret nurse friend', that was all he’d told you and Foggy about her, returning to your side with some baby wipes.

“She said you don’t need to go to the ER if its only a small fracture. The swelling should go down within a few days,” He said, handing you the packet of wipes with a solemn look on his face.

You hadn’t said a word since you left your apartment, silently following his instructions to put the peas on your face as your mind raced over exactly how fucked up your night had been. You hated how your brother could ruin things for you, that you gave him the power to, but you never thought he would hurt you like this.

“Is it feeling any better?” Matt asked quietly when you didn’t respond. He couldn’t see how badly it had bruised, how it had moved over to your brow bone and started turning your right eye black, just that it was hurting you to breathe through it still. You nodded your head gently, clearing your throat when you realised he couldn’t see what you were doing.

“A little,” Your voice came out as a mouse, and you moved the icy compress away from your nose to have a look at it in the mirror. Your nose itself looked less swollen, but the blood had dried over your lips and chin making you look utterly gruesome. “Just a lot of blood,”

“Let me help,” Matt said, gently turning you around. You let him move you, all the energy out of your body drained from the evenings. You felt him delicately start to wipe under your nose, across your chin with a tenderness you needed for the way you felt.

Something seemed to shift in Matt as he felt his wipe-covered finger glide over your lips, where he realised you were letting him take complete control of your body, almost limp in his arms.

He didn’t know what to say, or what to feel, other than that he didn’t want to ever feel you the way you were right now. You felt like a zombie in his arms, this wasn’t you that he knew. You weren’t even crying, you just seemed dazed. It scared him in all honesty.

“Hey, look at me,” Matt requested. He felt you shift in his arms, your eyes piercing into his unfocused ones, scanning over his face for any sign as to what he wanted. His free hand that hadn’t been wiping your face came up to cup your cheek, “No one is ever going to hurt you like that again, trust me. Not him, not anyone.”

You felt your eyes tear up at his words. You leaned further into the palm of his hand and it was only then he felt a salty, hot tear roll over his fingers. He pulled you in for a hug, to which you immediately grabbed onto him as if he were the only thing grounding you in the moment. He was.

“I’m never going to let anything like that happen to you again, Y/N,” He whispered, stroking the back of your head as you cried into his blazer, “Because I love you and I’m going to keep you safe, you know that?”

His words seemed to calm your sobs slightly, and all you could mutter was “Thankyou,” as he continued caressing your back gently. You pulled away, looking at him in the face as if for the first time you’d properly considered his words.

Because I love you.

You sniffled as softly as you could with your injured nose, reaching out to hold his hand. “I don’t think your girlfriend would like you saying that, Matt, no matter how sweet it was,”

He smiled to himself lightly even though you had been serious, “She’s not my girlfriend.”

“Does she know that?” You teased slightly, laughing as he broke out into a grin hearing you coming around to your normal self again.

Things weren't okay, far from it, but at least he was taking your mind off it, that's all he could ask for.

“Yes, she knows that. Who do you take me for?” He joked back.

Things seemed to go quiet between the two of you again, revelling in the moment of his loving words. He knew what you were thinking, as did you. It was the confession you’d been waiting for for years. He heard it in the way your heart fluttered looking at his face, and god have mercy, did he want to kiss you right then and there.

Maybe if you weren't caressing a broken nose and you hadn’t had such a shitty night on your mind, Matt would have kissed you, or let you kiss him. But you were injured and he didn’t want to take advantage of the awful hand of cards you'd been dealt today.

So instead, he tilted your head forward gently and put his lips your forehead sweetly.

Perhaps another night, he would kiss you.

a/n: as I always do before I post I kinda hate this but any love is much appreciates