Celia Making Sure Her MC Looks Cute, Like Doing Their Make Up/hair/dressing/etc. That Kind Of Cute Stuff

Celia making sure her MC looks cute, like doing their make up/hair/dressing/etc. That kind of cute stuff to make her MC look stunning (◕ᴗ◕✿)

AUGH thank you, I needed this

c.w: no pronouns used, but dresses/makeup/jewelry mentioned. Hair styling. Mildly suggestive toward the end.

She's so tactile with you.

Fingers trailing over the curve of your shoulder as they slide the spaghetti strap of your dress back into place -- it had looked almost plain on the hanger, floor-length and solid burgundy, but she handed it to you, and you trusted her. When you stepped out of the dressing room and saw yourself in the mirror, you gasped, and her reflection grinned from behind you.

The gown made your shape into a work of art, clinging in a way that was both classy and flattering. You noticed, for the first time, the thin silver swirls descending elegantly from the neckline, giving the dress a bit of subtle flair. And the fabric - now that you're paying attention to it, you realize how soft it is. Velvet, maybe.

"It's gorgeous," you say, still stunned, after she twirls you before the mirror.

"It's gorgeous on you," she amends, wrapping her arms around your middle, resting her chin on your shoulder.

---

"Does it fit properly?" She asks.

Leaving a soft kiss on the back of your neck after fastening the clasp of your necklace -- something silver and intricate to go with the bodice of the dress. Her painted nails trail along the line of it, playing over your collarbones, before they lift upwards to brush your earlobes, which currently house simple but sparkling diamond studs. Her palms move to your arms, where they glide down to your wrists and fuss over the filigree bracelets on each one.

Then, finally, the ring, set with an opal and garnet accent stones - she'd slid it slowly onto your left ring finger, and your whole body tingled in response. Then she'd lifted it to her lips for a chaste yet heartstopping kiss, and you'd nearly melted into a puddle at her feet. Now, she merely brushes her thumb over the opal.

"Is that your sneaky way of asking for my ring size?" You respond with a teasing grin. She meets your eyes and smiles back.

"Maybe."

---

Hands smoothing over your hair, fingers threading through as she works with the strands -- using the curling iron, or the straightener, or simply braiding it or winding it up into a pretty bun. Tucking a strand behind your ear, pulling it back out to frame your face, pinning things and twirling things and spritzing things. She's probably gone through half a dozen styles so far and can't seem to land on one.

"Is this just my life now?" You tease as she unpins all her hard work for the seventh time.

"I can't decide what style suits you best - you look lovely in all of them. Let me try one more thing," she says, determination filling her eyes once again as she lifts them from yours, back to your hair. You laugh, but otherwise remain still for her.

---

"Well, we're definitely going to be late, but I think you're finally done," she states, looking you over critically. You know you've passed inspection when her gaze turns appreciative instead.

Palm cupping your jaw as she gently tilts your face upward, applying makeup with all the intense focus of a chess master -- brushing on foundation and blush, expertly blending eyeshadow, managing your eyeliner and mascara like a pro despite your reflexive, excessive blinking.

Finally, tugging at your chin just enough to part your lips so that she can paint them in the color she picked out for you. She hands you a napkin to blot with.

"Are you, though?" you ask, biting your newly-tinted lip seductively.

"Of course not," she says, gaze smoldering more the longer she looks at you, "but I suppose I'll just have to touch you some more when we get back home."

"Ooh, promise?"

She leans closer, until her lips are nearly touching yours.

"Promise."