squeaklings (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
squeaklings) wrote2022-07-15 07:50 pm
squeaklings) wrote2022-07-15 07:50 pm
Entry tags:
- fluff,
- g,
- spyxfamily
Spy x Family - Makeup Mishap
Title: Makeup Mishap
Wordcount: 1625
Fandom: SpyxFamily
Rating: G
Warnings: Set some nebulous time in season 1, no spodlers
Summary: Anya gets into Yor's makeup in an attempt to be pretty like her Mama.
Edited 7/22/22 with revised edition
The apartment was quiet aside from Yor's humming and the clinking of dishes as she gently dried and stacked their plates from lunch. Loid had left to stop by the office for an emergency patient, Anya was in her room playing by herself, and Yor found she enjoyed these rare quiet moments. She cared for her step-daughter dearly, but the child was a storm of noise and terror when she wanted to be.
As if on cue, a loud crash broke the silence and Yor nearly dropped the plate she'd been holding. She set it down on the counter as she dashed into the hallway, only to find Anya stumbling out of the bathroom, her step stool rolling to a stop near the door.
“Miss Anya, are you--” She stopped as she took in the sight of the young girl, makeup plastered across her face in a mishmash of products.
“Mamaaaa,” Anya looked up at the older woman and tears welled in her eyes. “Anya tripped and, and...”
“Shh, it's ok.” Yor knelt beside her daughter and helped her up, trying not to show her shock as she caught her first look at the bathroom. Her makeup was spread out around the sink and floor where it had fallen when Anya took her spill, broken bottles leaking and powders dusting the air as they settled. “Are you alright?”
Anya sniffled and buried her face against Yor's chest. The woman tried not to sigh at the thought of how many makeup stains she was going to have to wash out. “Anya wanted to be pretty like Mama...”
A dagger pierced Yor's heart and all thoughts of stains fled her mind. She thinks like that about me??“Oh, Miss Anya, really?” She hugged her daughter closer before helping her to her feet. “But you're so pretty as you are.”
“Mama is the prettiest!” Anya wriggled out of Yor's arms and grabbed her mother's hand to drag her over to the sink. “But Anya broke Mama's coz-matics.”
“Hmm, as long as you're ok. They can be replaced.” Still though. Her favorite red nail polish lay in a puddle, looking like freshly spilled blood. She found herself staring at it, watching the liquid settle against the bottle, the smell wafting into the air like a fresh kill--
“Mama!”
Yor shook her head and smiled at Anya, pushing back those thoughts. You're supposed to be a model mother, Yor, remember. “Sorry. Let's see what we can save, and then let's get you cleaned up, ok?”
Anya grinned and plunked herself down on the floor to gather up the various bottles and powders as Yor sorted them and set aside the salvageable items. In the end, she had one bottle of nail polish (another red, but not as nice as her favorite one), two lipsticks (dark red and a lighter, subtle pink), one palette of powdered blush, and one and a half palettes of eye shadow that were still usable, and the rest she shoved into a pile to clean up later.
“Now, Miss Anya,” she said, turning towards her daughter, “let's see what we can do about you.”
“Mama will make Anya pretty?”
Yor nearly swooned at how adorable her daughter was. “You are already very pretty, Miss Anya.” She stood and grabbed a washcloth and wet it with warm water before kneeling in front of Anya again. “But I'll teach you how to do this properly. Oh,” she continued, one finger held in the air between them, “but this is knowledge for when you're older, ok?”
Anya nodded, if a bit forlorn. “Ok Mama.”
Yor gently dabbed at her daughter's face, cleaning away most of the product caking Anya's cheeks and lips. Luckily the girl hadn't managed to get much near her eyes, but Yor still gently washed her eyelids and forehead, leaving Anya with only a little bit of color still clinging to her skin.
“Now,” Yor set the washcloth down and gathered together all her tools: Anya's hairbrush, pink lipstick, eye shadow palette. Yor thought for a moment about the blush and then set that with the rest as well. Everything in place, she gently drew back Anya's bangs before using one of her own bobby pins to lock the hair in place atop the girl's head. “We don't want our hair in the way when we do this.”
“Yus,” Anya chirped, and closed her eyes as Yor gently dabbed some of the light pink lipstick on Anya's top lip.
“Your skin is soft and already very clear, so I think we can skip the foundation,” she explained as she used her pinky to carefully spread the little dab of lipstick along Anya's lower lip. “Rub your lips together now. Perfect.”
Anya wriggled excitedly as Yor continued, picking up the palette of eye shadow and humming to herself as she tried to decide which color best went with Anya's hair. She eventually settled on a soft pink, just enough to give Anya's eyelids some shadow without drawing too much attention.
“Close your eyes, please.” Anya squeezed her eyes shut and Yor laughed. “No, no, gently. Like this.” Yor waited for Anya to look before she demonstrated, and her daughter copied her a moment later. “Very good. This might feel weird, but don't open your eyes, ok? You'll get used to the feeling.” The little girl peeked a worried eye open, but calmed at her mother's gentle smile.
“That tickles, Mama,” Anya tried her best not to squirm as Yor gently applied the eye shadow.
“I know, but you're doing so well staying still.” She's too cute!!
Eye shadow applied with no poked eyes, Yor set the palette aside and tapped Anya's cheek with the tip of her finger. The little girl peeked her eyes open, then blinked rapidly a few times before grinning up at her mother.
“Anya is pretty now?”
“Always. But we're not quite done.” Picking up the blush, she dabbed the tiniest amount of powder to the bristles before barely tapping Anya's cheeks. “Just a tiiiiiny hint of color, aaaand—there.” Yor ran her thumbs over Anya's cheeks, blending in the tiny amount of color so it looked more natural.
“And now, the final part.” Yor unclipped Anya's bangs and let them fall back down before picking up the young girl's hairbrush. “Would you like me to brush your hair, Miss Anya?”
The girl nearly squealed with joy and wriggled herself close enough that she was almost in Yor's lap. The older woman laughed and gently began running the bristles through thick pink locks. “You have such lovely hair, Miss Anya.”
Vague memories of her own mother brushing out her hair floated through Yor's mind, only to be replaced with her doing Yuri's hair for his big school occasions. He'd never fussed about her doing his hair, always happy to spend time with his sister. He really was such a good kid.
She hummed softly as she worked, lost in thought crafting a nonsense song as Anya scooted fully into her lap and swayed gently as the brush slowly wound its way through her hair.
“I'm home!”
“Papa!” Anya scuttled off Yor's lap and dashed for the bathroom door, her arms outstretched as she barreled towards a surprised Loid. He looked haggard, his coat still in his arms and hat barely placed on the rack, and Yor wondered for the umpteenth time how he worked with such unruly patients. They really took their toll on him. Honestly, weren't there other doctors as good as him that could handle these emergency patients?
“What's this?” He asked with a smile as he knelt down to Anya's level, glancing up at Yor after a moment.
“Mama made Anya pretty!” The young girl did a little twirl in front of her father and then posed. “Isn't Anya pretty?”
“Why yes, yes you are.” He chuckled and stood.
Anya glanced up at Yor, and she could swear the girl had a sneaky little smile on her lips. “As pretty as Mama?”
Yor felt her face flame as Loid smiled. “Yes, just as.” Yor's face was going to melt as Loid glanced and then looked away quickly, coughing into his hand. “Anyway, I--”
“Anya is pretty!” The little girl did another dance in place and then raced over to the TV to look at her reflection in the darkened screen. Then she ran to every other object she could see her reflection in, dancing a little and posing before declaring she was pretty and dashing off again.
Yor tried very hard not to look at Loid, her hands tying knots into her sweater. The room was very warm, when did it get so hot in here? “She got into my makeup, so I showed her how to do it properly. I hope that was ok?”
“Hm? Yes, it-- That was fine.” Loid gave her that gentle smile he always had ready for her. “She's your daughter too, so it's only natural you'd teach her these types of things.”
There was that dagger again, wedging itself into her chest. “R-right.”
They stood in awkward silence for what felt like too long. Yor forced her hands to stay still and not pick at the hem of her sweater, and Loid looked like he was going to say something but couldn't get it out. Before either of them could move, though, Anya poked her head out of the bathroom, a large grin on her face.
“Are Mama and Papa smooching yet?”
Whatever awkwardness they had was gone as in this, at least, they were both confident.
“No!”
Wordcount: 1625
Fandom: SpyxFamily
Rating: G
Warnings: Set some nebulous time in season 1, no spodlers
Summary: Anya gets into Yor's makeup in an attempt to be pretty like her Mama.
Edited 7/22/22 with revised edition
The apartment was quiet aside from Yor's humming and the clinking of dishes as she gently dried and stacked their plates from lunch. Loid had left to stop by the office for an emergency patient, Anya was in her room playing by herself, and Yor found she enjoyed these rare quiet moments. She cared for her step-daughter dearly, but the child was a storm of noise and terror when she wanted to be.
As if on cue, a loud crash broke the silence and Yor nearly dropped the plate she'd been holding. She set it down on the counter as she dashed into the hallway, only to find Anya stumbling out of the bathroom, her step stool rolling to a stop near the door.
“Miss Anya, are you--” She stopped as she took in the sight of the young girl, makeup plastered across her face in a mishmash of products.
“Mamaaaa,” Anya looked up at the older woman and tears welled in her eyes. “Anya tripped and, and...”
“Shh, it's ok.” Yor knelt beside her daughter and helped her up, trying not to show her shock as she caught her first look at the bathroom. Her makeup was spread out around the sink and floor where it had fallen when Anya took her spill, broken bottles leaking and powders dusting the air as they settled. “Are you alright?”
Anya sniffled and buried her face against Yor's chest. The woman tried not to sigh at the thought of how many makeup stains she was going to have to wash out. “Anya wanted to be pretty like Mama...”
A dagger pierced Yor's heart and all thoughts of stains fled her mind. She thinks like that about me??“Oh, Miss Anya, really?” She hugged her daughter closer before helping her to her feet. “But you're so pretty as you are.”
“Mama is the prettiest!” Anya wriggled out of Yor's arms and grabbed her mother's hand to drag her over to the sink. “But Anya broke Mama's coz-matics.”
“Hmm, as long as you're ok. They can be replaced.” Still though. Her favorite red nail polish lay in a puddle, looking like freshly spilled blood. She found herself staring at it, watching the liquid settle against the bottle, the smell wafting into the air like a fresh kill--
“Mama!”
Yor shook her head and smiled at Anya, pushing back those thoughts. You're supposed to be a model mother, Yor, remember. “Sorry. Let's see what we can save, and then let's get you cleaned up, ok?”
Anya grinned and plunked herself down on the floor to gather up the various bottles and powders as Yor sorted them and set aside the salvageable items. In the end, she had one bottle of nail polish (another red, but not as nice as her favorite one), two lipsticks (dark red and a lighter, subtle pink), one palette of powdered blush, and one and a half palettes of eye shadow that were still usable, and the rest she shoved into a pile to clean up later.
“Now, Miss Anya,” she said, turning towards her daughter, “let's see what we can do about you.”
“Mama will make Anya pretty?”
Yor nearly swooned at how adorable her daughter was. “You are already very pretty, Miss Anya.” She stood and grabbed a washcloth and wet it with warm water before kneeling in front of Anya again. “But I'll teach you how to do this properly. Oh,” she continued, one finger held in the air between them, “but this is knowledge for when you're older, ok?”
Anya nodded, if a bit forlorn. “Ok Mama.”
Yor gently dabbed at her daughter's face, cleaning away most of the product caking Anya's cheeks and lips. Luckily the girl hadn't managed to get much near her eyes, but Yor still gently washed her eyelids and forehead, leaving Anya with only a little bit of color still clinging to her skin.
“Now,” Yor set the washcloth down and gathered together all her tools: Anya's hairbrush, pink lipstick, eye shadow palette. Yor thought for a moment about the blush and then set that with the rest as well. Everything in place, she gently drew back Anya's bangs before using one of her own bobby pins to lock the hair in place atop the girl's head. “We don't want our hair in the way when we do this.”
“Yus,” Anya chirped, and closed her eyes as Yor gently dabbed some of the light pink lipstick on Anya's top lip.
“Your skin is soft and already very clear, so I think we can skip the foundation,” she explained as she used her pinky to carefully spread the little dab of lipstick along Anya's lower lip. “Rub your lips together now. Perfect.”
Anya wriggled excitedly as Yor continued, picking up the palette of eye shadow and humming to herself as she tried to decide which color best went with Anya's hair. She eventually settled on a soft pink, just enough to give Anya's eyelids some shadow without drawing too much attention.
“Close your eyes, please.” Anya squeezed her eyes shut and Yor laughed. “No, no, gently. Like this.” Yor waited for Anya to look before she demonstrated, and her daughter copied her a moment later. “Very good. This might feel weird, but don't open your eyes, ok? You'll get used to the feeling.” The little girl peeked a worried eye open, but calmed at her mother's gentle smile.
“That tickles, Mama,” Anya tried her best not to squirm as Yor gently applied the eye shadow.
“I know, but you're doing so well staying still.” She's too cute!!
Eye shadow applied with no poked eyes, Yor set the palette aside and tapped Anya's cheek with the tip of her finger. The little girl peeked her eyes open, then blinked rapidly a few times before grinning up at her mother.
“Anya is pretty now?”
“Always. But we're not quite done.” Picking up the blush, she dabbed the tiniest amount of powder to the bristles before barely tapping Anya's cheeks. “Just a tiiiiiny hint of color, aaaand—there.” Yor ran her thumbs over Anya's cheeks, blending in the tiny amount of color so it looked more natural.
“And now, the final part.” Yor unclipped Anya's bangs and let them fall back down before picking up the young girl's hairbrush. “Would you like me to brush your hair, Miss Anya?”
The girl nearly squealed with joy and wriggled herself close enough that she was almost in Yor's lap. The older woman laughed and gently began running the bristles through thick pink locks. “You have such lovely hair, Miss Anya.”
Vague memories of her own mother brushing out her hair floated through Yor's mind, only to be replaced with her doing Yuri's hair for his big school occasions. He'd never fussed about her doing his hair, always happy to spend time with his sister. He really was such a good kid.
She hummed softly as she worked, lost in thought crafting a nonsense song as Anya scooted fully into her lap and swayed gently as the brush slowly wound its way through her hair.
“I'm home!”
“Papa!” Anya scuttled off Yor's lap and dashed for the bathroom door, her arms outstretched as she barreled towards a surprised Loid. He looked haggard, his coat still in his arms and hat barely placed on the rack, and Yor wondered for the umpteenth time how he worked with such unruly patients. They really took their toll on him. Honestly, weren't there other doctors as good as him that could handle these emergency patients?
“What's this?” He asked with a smile as he knelt down to Anya's level, glancing up at Yor after a moment.
“Mama made Anya pretty!” The young girl did a little twirl in front of her father and then posed. “Isn't Anya pretty?”
“Why yes, yes you are.” He chuckled and stood.
Anya glanced up at Yor, and she could swear the girl had a sneaky little smile on her lips. “As pretty as Mama?”
Yor felt her face flame as Loid smiled. “Yes, just as.” Yor's face was going to melt as Loid glanced and then looked away quickly, coughing into his hand. “Anyway, I--”
“Anya is pretty!” The little girl did another dance in place and then raced over to the TV to look at her reflection in the darkened screen. Then she ran to every other object she could see her reflection in, dancing a little and posing before declaring she was pretty and dashing off again.
Yor tried very hard not to look at Loid, her hands tying knots into her sweater. The room was very warm, when did it get so hot in here? “She got into my makeup, so I showed her how to do it properly. I hope that was ok?”
“Hm? Yes, it-- That was fine.” Loid gave her that gentle smile he always had ready for her. “She's your daughter too, so it's only natural you'd teach her these types of things.”
There was that dagger again, wedging itself into her chest. “R-right.”
They stood in awkward silence for what felt like too long. Yor forced her hands to stay still and not pick at the hem of her sweater, and Loid looked like he was going to say something but couldn't get it out. Before either of them could move, though, Anya poked her head out of the bathroom, a large grin on her face.
“Are Mama and Papa smooching yet?”
Whatever awkwardness they had was gone as in this, at least, they were both confident.
“No!”