#or if i should just say f! implied reader with 'you' pronouns......i am unsure

[ridhearts]

preparations {vil x reader}

sometimes when i have bad days i imagine kisses with my faves and it makes it better :)

gn!reader - reader is wearing make-up! (also there is one mention of "housewife" but the reader is not explicitly referred to as one - if that might bother you, read at your own discretion!)

Not fair.

It was a thought that crossed your mind frequently when you hung around Vil. At first, it was born from a place of something uncomfortable, not quite envy and not quite self-loathing but a similar emotional cocktail that made it difficult for you to tell the difference. You got over that rather quickly - and good thing, because you were positive Vil could smell your envy for miles and you never would have gotten this far with it in tow. No, your feelings changed, bubbling into something warmer, something that made your face hot and your heart stutter. Now you were comfortable, and you were eager to fan the fervent flames of his beauty which you've begun to cherish so. But that meant that you had to be brought up to standard, to have his attention focused right where you wanted it and yet you were still unsatisfied because it was attention of the wrong kind.

It was still very much unfair. Unfair of him to tease you, to swipe your lips carefully with gloss and ignore the way you writhed with both nerves and impatience. It was especially cruel when you both knew that, with sad enough eyes and a few sweet murmurings of 'pretty please', you could get whatever you wanted.

"And don't forget," Vil started, his voice authoritative as always but dimmed to a softer volume than usual. You quickly filtered out the words he was saying, focusing instead on the sweet pitch, on the way you would certainly be able to feel the vibrations in his throat if you placed a gentle touch there. The information he was giving you had already been drilled into your head after he gave you meticulous instructions on what to expect and who to avoid. Yes, the few celebrities you had heard of during your time in Twisted Wonderland would be there. Yes, pictures of you would certainly be circulating on Magicam from the moment you get there until at least a week after. No, he didn't expect you to hold onto his arm and smile quietly like some colonial housewife. Where on earth did you get that idea?

Others said he liked to harp on the most insignificant details, but you saw him more like a worried mother hen. The public eye was a dangerous place to be for the uninitiated, and you were still so unfamiliar with the world at large. He was only trying to shelter you from a well-documented embarrassment, and you were beyond thankful.

But there was something other than words that would help soothe your words, something he was being woefully cruel about keeping from you.

"...are you listening, sweet potato?" Vil suddenly asked, voice flat and face unamused. Even his frown was prim and dainty. You stared at it as he sighed. "Of course you aren't. You are absolutely hopeless, you know."

Finally blinking to reality, you smiled up at Vil and kicked the floor, spinning once in his vanity chair. He stopped the chair with one hand, effectively caging you in on the side. "Yeah, hopelessly in love with you."

Narrowing his eyes, Vill put two fingers beneath your chin and tilted your head slightly, examining his work from every angle. "Oh? What makes you think you'll get what you want if you continue to act so childishly, hm?"

"Maybe I need some incentive to start acting more responsibly."

"Is that how this works?"

You pouted, watching for the moment Vil's eyes flickered down to your own lips. It took everything you had not to smile when you finally caught him.

With another exasperated sigh, Vil leaned closer to give you what you wanted. The hand that tilted your chin moved to cradle your face, touch gentle to avoid smearing any makeup yet undeniably warm. His lips were soft, barely pressing against your own in a silent chide to not get too greedy. You could smell the sweetness of one of his cosmetics, something faintly fruity and undoubtedly new. His attempt to look entirely unenthused when he pulled away was valiant - fitting for such an adept actor, for sure - but he still let you carefully swipe the mark of your lip gloss away with your thumb. His own lipstick, of course, was smudge-proof. 

“I’m lucky you love me,” You said dreamily, stealing the sentiment from Vil before he could comment on your luck. Not for the first time, Vil gave you a soft warning look. Empty threats.

“That is proof that I indulge you entirely too often.” Vil stepped away so you could look at yourself in the mirror, placing his hands on the back of the chair and bending so his face was level with yours. You locked eyes in the mirror. “Now, how about you tell me what information I was giving you before you disrupted my work?”