#machi makes me feel emotions previously unfelt

[ddarker-dreams]

Fooled Around and Fell in Love.

Machi Komacine x F Reader.

Warnings: Mild not SFW implications. Word count: 1k.

Music blasts out of your phone’s speaker at a questionable quality. The bathroom’s acoustics perfectly contain the soundwaves as if it were a dimension entirely outside of reality. Nothing in exists besides Machi, you, and your eyeshadow palette that fits expertly in your hand. 

Certain divots contain pigment that is more worn than others. Machi notes the colors that you must favor the most. A glimmering champagne color, soft pink, and nude pigments which range from light to dark. When you tap the eyeshadow brush on the side of the palette, fairy dust cascades, catching the fading light you swore you’d replace months ago. She makes a mental note to pick up a lightbulb and to it herself. 

You’re close enough to breathe in each other's air. 

She smells your perfume, delicate and fruity, dutifully dabbed onto your inner wrist and exposed neck. Barely faded love bites litter your skin from previous passionate exploits. You never try to erase the proof of her existence she leaves on you. When it comes to definitive proof that Machi actually inhabits this world, you’re the closest she gets. You turn a specter from Meteor City into a tangible being — made from flesh and blood. 

You procure a pocket-sized mirror. “Well? Do you like?” 

Machi studies her reflection for a moment, then her attention is back on you. “Yeah.” 

“You barely looked,” you huff, scrunching your nose in indignation. Machi fights her lip’s urge to quirk up. “I’ll have you know that I’m a high-in-demand makeup artist, famed worldwide. I expect a minimum of three words praising my ingenuity.” 

“It looks good.” 

You throw your head back and groan. “The three word limit was a suggestion, not a hard rule.” 

“And I followed it.” 

Every time Machi prepares to enter your apartment, she resolves to tease you less. 

Every time this tenet is put to the test, she fails. 

“That’s it! I’ll be upping your charge as recompense for my wounded heart.” 

She raises an eyebrow. “This was going to cost me? How much?” 

You press a manicured finger to your cheek, painted the shade of Machi’s hair by the woman herself. According to you, her hands are far more steady than yours, making her an ideal candidate for the job. She never complained at a chance to feel your soft skin against hers. Unmarred by crime, clean from shedding rivers of crimson as deep as the Styx. 

“Three, no, five kisses,”  you insist. “It’s up to ten now.” 

… Machi has no idea how you say these things without a hint of shame. 

She leans forward, begrudgingly, as if the payment were a burden and not a delight. 

You put a premature end to the process by hovering your finger near her parted lips. “Not yet. I don’t want to get my gloss on your lips, matte suits you better.” 

Machi’s knuckles turn white from how harshly she grips the edge of the sink’s countertop. If she applied any more pressure, it’d crumble into a pitiful avalanche. Despite the restraint she’s exerting, her visage betrays nothing, giving the impression that she’d unmoved. In reality, she wants nothing more than to mix the pigment of your lips, forming a shade that’s uniquely you. 

“Awe, babe, are you grumpy?” The knowing lilt in your voice makes her heart flutter. 

“Just get on with it already,” Machi grumbles. The tips of her ears feel warm.

You give a dorky salute and an enthusiastic sir yes sir!

You run the brush’s tip over her smoothly, as a painter would on their canvas. 

Her heart beats in a staccato rhythm. 

Thump, thump, thump. 

You move on to her next eye, utilizing the same care, precision, and expertise. More adrenaline pumps through her veins than in the thick of a heist. Her body gives into your thrall without a fight. You are the sun she orbits around, allowing her to experience seasons she never thought were meant for her. Winter’s biting chill of loneliness when you’re apart. Spring’s budding affections that blossom one after the other. Summer’s hot passion which leaves you both sweaty and satisfied. Then autumn’s relaxed tenure, refreshing in its briskness.

You didn’t just unlock the world for her, you’ve shown her the entire universe. 

“Aaaaand voila,” you announce. When her eyes readjust to being open, she sees a sight so priceless, not even a thief would have the heart to steal it — your bright smile. 

She twists her head to use the mirror behind her. “You did a good job.” 

Her words are light, like bubbles rising to the top of a champagne glass. 

Machi hears you grumble something about needing to buy her a thesaurus, but, nonetheless, you contentedly put your eyeliner away, humming to the current song on your playlist. You leech off her music subscription (your words, not hers), but she doesn’t mind. There’s something comforting about seeing what song or podcast you’re listening to when she’s continents away. 

“Hey.” 

“Hm?” 

“I like it,” Machi says. Then, she swoops in to press a chaste kiss against your cheek. Unbeknownst to her, the resulting lipstick stain will remain for the rest of the night. “Thanks.” 

The look you give her can only be described as lovestruck. “W-Well, having such a pretty model certainly helps.” 

Your little stutter makes her crack a closed-mouth smile. 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” 

After a moment of staring wordlessly at one another, your posture straightens, realization etching onto your features. 

“I almost forgot! Eyelash curler and then mascara. I’ll let you do that part though. Applying mascara on others is tricky. I don’t want your eyelashes to look like spider legs.” 

Quietly, she clears her throat. If only you knew. 

“... Right. Wouldn’t want that.”