#kinda wanted to buy foundation?

[viktorbf]

i want to get into makeup but i dont want to buy any or practice or actually wear makeup

[literaila]

I'd love to request a reader who's obsessed with love languages (me fr) and is trying to figure out what peter's is without directly asking him

obviously r gets caught in the act

Thank you so much!!

-🔮

stalemate

tasm!peter x reader

warnings: teasing, fluff, complex relationship issues (lying)

a/n: i do believe peter’s love language is physical touch/words of affirmation but that’s a conversation for a different time

*

“would you rather run errands with someone and hold hands, or run errands with someone and get kicked out of the store cause you’re ‘disturbing the other customers?’”

peter momentarily pauses his chewing, raising an eyebrow at you. “one of these scenarios involves me getting escorted out of the grocery store.”

“yeah, but because you’re having too much fun.”

he shakes his head. “no such thing.”

“clearly, there is.”

he rifles through the remainder of his food, like digging for gold, but his cheek is twitching, and his eyes are thoughtful as he looks down. “why cant i have fun and hold hands with you?”

“okay,” you point at him, leaning back. peter, though you’d put his food across the kitchen table, so you could sit face to face, was adamant that you were too far. so now there’s only a table corner separating the two of you. and these questions, of course, building up a careful foundation. “first of all, i didn’t say it was me—“

“who else would get us kicked out of a grocery store?”

“and second of all, because that’s not the question. holding hands or ribs-hurt laughing?”

“both of those sound equally painful,” peter keeps leaning towards you like he knows something you don’t. which he doesn’t.

you lean forward too, undeterred by his challenge. “so you’re a completely-silent-errand-running-with-a-healthy-five-foot-distance kinda guy?”

“we literally went shopping today.” peter gestures back to the kitchen, where bags of produce and sugary containers (peter’s pickings) remain. after dinner, you’d both swore, but you’re having a hard time finishing your food. “you know what kinda guy i am.”

so it goes, on and on. you asking peter the same type of hypothetical questions you’d been all day. he hasn’t seemed to question it, besides a couple of ill-fated looks.

and you do. know, that is. peter did almost get you kicked out of the store today, when he’d tripped over a sign and knocked down a whole shelf of boxes. this, he claimed, was the crime of a faulty layout. though, he’d bumped into the sign in the first place because he refused to let go of your hand, even when it was less than conscientious.

this, though, you don’t bring up.

“if i bought you a gift,” you continue, ignoring his carefully planned out bantering techniques. “would you want something expensive, or something heart-felt?”

“why is that a question?”

you stare at him, nonchalant, gesturing for him to continue.

“are you buying me a gift?” he asks, rolling his eyes at you.

“maybe. your birthday’s coming up.”

“it is november,” he says, dryly.

“good memory.”

peter snorts. “my birthday is in august. you know, like, two months ago?”

“hmm…” you lean your chin on a hand, staring into hard honeysuckle eyes with feigned confusion. “i must’ve missed it.”

“you got me a spider-man calendar.”

“don’t recall.”

“i can go get it,” he points over his shoulder, leaning, again, towards you. enough so that you can feel his breath, smooth and challenging. “it’s just in the bedroom.”

“answer the question.”

he sighs and leans back again, almost laughing. “heartfelt, obviously. like my very cherished spider-man calendar. which is for this year, i might add.”

“what a wonderful gift,” you smile too, adoringly, “you should thank whoever got it for you.”

peter furrows his brows, though not in confusion. “i did,” he says, softly, trying to break you.

but you remain where you are, smiling as cool as you’ve been all day.

which is to say, of course, that you’ve been dancing circles around peter and hoping that he hasn’t noticed.

you hadn’t even thought of it until two days ago, when out to lunch with your friend and she mentioned a book—fabled and probably recommended by some hot-shot magazine—about how to connect with your partner.

“love languages,” she’d said to you, “are the basis to every relationship.”

and this must have been true because despite a rough patch between her and her girlfriend, they were now as solid as always. and you could tell this, just from how at ease she’d seemed.

which, naturally, put you on edge.

not that you doubted peter, or your relationship with him. besides some run of the mill insecurities, peter was probably the loveliest person you’d ever met. so it was probably a bad thing that you had no clue—not a single suspicion, or thought—what his love language was.

thus, the questions began. and peter’s dubiousness doubled with every one you asked.

evident because he was still watching you. “are we acting out a scenario in which you need a visa and i agree to marry you?”

you kick him under the table. “what? i cant ask you questions?”

“i think this is the fortieth one today.”

“i’ve asked, like, three, and you haven’t even tried to answer any of them properly.”

“you know we’re in a real relationship, right? i know your favorite color and everything.”

you stand up from the table, grabbing your take-out container, and his, and walking to the kitchen.

peter trails after you, clearly noticing your evasion. “do you actually need a visa?” he asks, leaning against a counter, almost knocking over one of the grocery bags. “cause i think you’re supposed to tell the person you’re getting married to. so i can ask you some questions.”

“doesn’t seem like you’re having any problems with that.”

peter snorts and comes behind you while you grab something out of the first bag. his hands are warm as they wrap around your waist, resting on your stomach like a possession. “what’s up with you?”

“i’m unbagging the groceries.”

“you’ve been acting weird all day. do you need to talk to me about something?”

“no.” you pull away from him, putting some apples in the fruit bowl. “you’re crazy.”

“yes. i am the crazy one.”

you hum and walk around him, carefully not meeting his eyes.

after a couple minutes of this, with peter pretending to put things away, you break, uncomfortable with the silence.

“painting a room together,” you start, “or cuddling?”

peter pushes off of the counter, his teeth peaking behind his lips. “cuddling, obviously. you’re a terrible painter.”

he moves about a foot away from you, staring, again, like he knows something you don’t.

“what?” you ask him, closing a drawer. you cross your arms.

“nothing. nothing.”

but peter is grinning at you.

“what’s with your face?”

“what’s with yours?”

you roll your eyes at him, not moving. peter copies your stance, and the two of you remain as still as statues, testing one another.

finally, peter laughs. “you think i don’t know what you’re doing?”

“posing hypothetical questions?”

“i know what love languages are, baby,” peter steps closer to you. his hands just lingering by the seam of your shirt. “you’d make a terrible detective.”

despite the heat running through your body at being caught, you narrow your eyes at him. “me? it only took you all day to figure it out.”

“that’s cause i was giving you the benefit of the doubt. i thought you really wanted to know.”

“i do,” you cross your arms, bumping into him, offended. “i would’ve given up like three hours ago if i didn’t.”

“you’re crazy,” he says, simply. his look is amorous. “you could’ve just asked me.”

“no. i should know just from spending time with you. that’s couple 101.”

peter actually laughs. right in your face. he leans down, resting his chin against your head for support. “cant say i’ve ever taken that class.”

“well you should. it’s very informative.”

“okay, professor, then what’s my love language?”

you open your mouth. then close it. you push him back. “i’m not telling you.”

“oh,” peter tilts his head. “why not?”

“cause that’s cheating. figure out your own love language.”

“you think i don’t know what i like?”

“nope.”

peter shakes his head at you. “you just don’t know.”

“you just don’t know,” you poke his cheek. “you couldn’t even decide which cereal to get. we have three boxes now.”

“that’s called choice paralysis,” he informs you, as if you didn’t have this conversation earlier. “and you agreed to that.”

“sure,” you say to him, turning away.

“you’re a sore loser.”

“we’re not playing a game.”

“the elaborate ‘would you rather’ scheme wasn’t a game?” he asks.

“it was an informative questionnaire.”

peter gets in your way as you try to walk out of the kitchen. “then why hasn’t it informed you?”

you roll your eyes at him again. “c’mon, peter, you know that data can take weeks to process.”

he runs a hand up to your face, easily trapping you. “you just don’t know” he repeats softly.

he’s getting close again; resuming the game he’d lost earlier.

“you don’t know,” you say, stubbornly, not meeting his eyes.

“i know i like you,” he answers, breath marring your reaction skills.

and before you can even smile in response, peter is kissing you.

his lips are soft, pushing at you like he wants you to admit defeat. consoling you into a loss. convincing you to back down.

but you refuse.

you pull away, pushing his hand off of you. “that’s cheating.”

“we never set any rules.”

“well you’re breaking one.”

peter leans and let’s it go, crossing his arms as he looks at you, very arrogantly. “that’s okay,” he shrugs.

you attempt to catch your breath while peter stares at you, clearly thinking that he’s won.

“okay,” you say, pouting. “tell me. what’s your love language?”

peter smiles voraciously at this. he takes a step towards you, molding his body heat into yours.

then he shakes his head, his smile falling into something sweeter. “i don’t know,” he whispers to you, hand reaching down for yours, hair in his eyes. “physical touch, probably, before. but i like everything with you. i always want more, doesn’t matter what it is.”

you brush the hair out of his eyes, smiling.

though your intents are less than straightforward, there’s still a part of you that curls under this confession, like it just can’t take it.

“that’s sweet,” you whisper, leaning into him. he’s bent down so his nose is to yours.

peter hums, breathing in the smell of your skin, and pulling you closer and he stands there, lingering on the briefest of touches.

he tilts his head a bit, lips lined up with yours.

and you smile. “i’m not telling you mine,” you whisper to him, quickly pulling away and moving to the table, whistling as you do so.

you start to collect the trash you’d left there, hearing nothing for a moment, but peter’s heavy breathing.

you smile at the sound of his defeat.

“now that’s cheating,” he says, and you laugh.

*

[stormz369]

☕💖 Can I Get Your Number? ☕💖 Ch 11

Jason Todd x (f)Chubby!Reader

written with a female reader in mind, first person pov, no use of Y/N, will probably get NSFW later, let me know if there's anything else I should tag this with!

warnings/labels: angst, little to no comfort yet

wc: 2.2k

Chapter Selection

Dick: heeeyyyy Jay?

4:03pm

Dick: … Jaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay??? Bruce is asking questions about your relationship.

4:45pm

Jason: And I'm ignoring them.

4:56pm

Dick: Well don't! It's important.

4:57pm

Jason: Not possible. It's not his relationship.

5:02pm

Dick: Look, I know you don't like sharing details with us, but Bruce is wondering how serious this is. Like … is she coming to the next Wayne Foundation Gala? Should we expect her at Christmas? Are you gonna tell her about your night job? These are things we kinda need to know

5:10pm

Jason: First of all, I'm not going to the next gala, so why would she? Second, it is way too early in the year to be worrying about Christmas.

5:15pm

Dick: … And the job?

5:25pm

Jason: … When do you tell someone something like that? We've only been together for a few months, but at the same time we've been together for /months/. It simultaneously feels too early and too late…

5:29pm

Dick: Yeah … you're asking the wrong guy, dude. I've only ever dated people “in the business” as it were … Tim might have some insights on that one.

5:31pm

Jason: Yeah, that's not happening.

5:38pm

Dick: Which leads us back to TALK TO BRUCE.

5:40pm

Dick: … DON'T YOU LEAVE ME ON READ YOU LITTLE SHIT!

6:30pm

Bruce: Call me

8:30am

Bruce: Jason, I just have a few questions for you.

9:30am

Bruce: Jason!

10:45am

Jason: Jesus Christ, B! Dick told me about your questions, I don't know what you want me to say! I have no answers for you, ok? This is all new, just let me figure it out!

10:50am

Bruce: As long as you're considering how best to approach the situation. I'm sure you realize you do not want someone else to tell her these things before you have the opportunity to. If you are serious about this relationship, sooner will be better than later.

11:02am

Jason: Believe me, I know. My worst nightmare is her finding out because some asshole tries to kidnap her. I know that us being together puts a target on her back, and if she doesn't know it's there she's at even greater risk. I know all this. It will be handled soon.

11:30am

Bruce: … That sounds pretty final; are you planning on ending things before something goes wrong?

11:41am

Jason: That would be the smart thing. The selfless thing. And I've considered it, I really have. … But I just can't. I don't want to. Can't I have just one good thing? Just this one, and I'll never ask the universe for anything else.

11:50am

Bruce: Jason, of course you can have good things! … But you need to find a way to tell her, before circumstance takes the choice from you.

11:58am

Jason: Working on it

12:04pm

Bruce: Good. We'll see you both at the gala next month then.

12:09pm

Jason: I think the fuck not!

12:10pm

Bruce: It's your turn, you have to come. And if you think that girl doesn't want to be shown off on your arm we'll need to revisit your training, because your observation skills are slipping.

12:15pm

Jason: … This kind of thing is exactly why I didn't want to introduce her to the family.

12:19pm

Bruce: Is it so hard to buy your girl a dress and spin her around the dance floor a few times?

12:30pm

Jason: If any of those socialites flirt with her I won't be held responsible for my actions.

12:33pm

Bruce: You will not threaten, attack, or arrange an attack on anyone at the gala.

12:37pm

Jason: Of course not

12:40pm

Bruce: That includes after they leave, Jason!

12:43pm

Jason: … Damnit.

12:50pm

“Thank god you got the security system in place, huh?” she chuckled a bit mirthlessly as they watched the news. The night before, Jason had installed new security measures around her apartment; better windows with strong locks -and bullet proof glass, but she didn’t know that-, motion detecting cameras on the balcony and front door, and stronger locks on both doors. Perfect timing too, because Bane’s escape from Arkham had just been announced. 

Jason pulled her closer, stroking her back, and kissed her forehead. “Not gonna let anything happen to you baby. You just stay inside for a few days, ok?”

She wrapped her arms around his shoulders; “can’t. Gotta go to work tomorrow…”

“... Please don’t. … Please, I’ll take care of your rent, just don’t go out there until the bats have him back in Arkham.”

She looked up at his face, frowning a bit. “Jay, we can’t let them hold us hostage in our own homes. He could be out for months, it’s happened before. Hell, if he doesn’t do anything immediately and someone else starts making trouble, he could be loose for years before they get around to him. Besides, it’s not like you’re not going to work while he’s out.”

This was it. This was the moment; he was going to tell her. The only reason he was going to work was because his work was putting Bane back in Arkham. Say it. Say it right now. … She needs to know, just say it. This is the moment… Maybe she’ll stay inside if she knows, then she’ll be safe. Say it. …

“... then … let me take you to work? And pick you up at the end of your shift too.”

“... Just for a few days.” She nodded, kissing his cheek.

He sighed, stroking her shoulder, and held her close. … Coward.

A week later they were sitting on the floor in her apartment, legs crossed, knees touching, both wearing short sleeve shirts. Jason's wrists were resting on his knees, so she could see his arms. He refused to look in her eyes; this was too awkward.

The point was to slowly get him acclimated to the idea that she was a safe person to show his scars to. His forearms had some of his less gruesome scars, mostly cuts and a few old burns, and he was already less uncomfortable with her touching him there, so it seemed like the most reasonable place to start. She gently squeezed his hands, looking down at them. Not touching yet, just sitting with the fact that they were there.

“... Can I ask how you got them?”

This was it. This was the moment; he had to tell her now. Tell her. Tell her where they came from. Tell her what you do. Do it. Right now… 

“... Um … well, …”

He was trying to find the right words, how to start this conversation. But all she saw was hesitation. So she squeezed his hands, smiling gently; “it's ok if you're not ready.”

It really wasn't. He knew it wasn't; she deserved the truth, she needed the truth, and she needed it soon. But it felt like too big of a thing to just say all of a sudden, and it was so easy to accept the easy out. He squeezed her hands back, smiling weakly.

“... I love you.” Just give him a little longer, he silently begged the universe; he'd tell her soon, just not today. Give him a little longer.

“I love you too, Jay~” God, how he hoped that would still be true when he finally told her…

“What do you think?” She spun on the pedestal, showing off a green dress. Jason and Steph had taken her to get a gown for the gala; Jason would have been happy for it to be just the two of them, but she insisted she needed a girl's opinion too.

Steph grinned. “I love that silhouette on you. … But the color ….” She waved her hand in a ‘so-so’ motion.

“What's wrong with the color?” She frowned, looking down at herself.

“Nothing, you look beautiful.” Jason smiled softly.

“But it'll look like Christmas!” Steph exclaimed.

She tilted her head, frowning. “Christmas?”

Steph nodded emphatically; “Jason only has one tie for these events, and it's red!”

“Oh! Well then I need a red dress!” She grinned, gathering up the skirt and running for the changing room. “I wish you had the tie with you to compare …”

“I can find a picture!” Steph grinned, going through her Waynebook photos.

Jason blinked a bit, not fully sure what was happening. “... Y- … huh? … you wanna wear red?”

She reemerged, grinning; “Of course; I want everyone in that room to know at a glance that I'm your girl~”  He blushed bright red, letting her take his hand and pull him toward a selection of red dresses. Steph smirked a bit, following along to help find a few dresses that would match his tie nicely. 

She blushed brightly and giggled at the soft groan that emanated from Jason's throat when she came out in a dress with a high slit and off the shoulder sleeves. Steph smirked; “That sounds like a yes to me.”

“Hmm…” She shifted and squirmed a bit in front of the mirror, frowning at her reflection. “I dunno about this one…”

Jason stood behind her, offering her his hands. “Why not? You look incredible…”

She blushed more, taking them. They stood in the mirror, him behind her and to the side a bit, her hands resting in his like he was leading her onto the dance floor. “I dunno, … the slit is really high, and the off the shoulder sleeves sit in a way that draws attention to my arm fat…”

Jason frowned, gently squeezing her hands. “And?”

She chuckled a bit, looking at his face in the mirror. “What do you mean ‘and’?”

“You're gorgeous. If anyone tries to tell you otherwise it's because they're jealous of how effortlessly beautiful you are. You're going to be the most stunning girl at that entire stupid gala. Really, getting to see you outshine all those hoity-toity-stick-up-their-ass bitches is going to make it worth going.” The sincerity on his face almost made her believe it. She giggled, turning toward him. 

“... I haven't danced since P.E. in middle school…”

“We'll practice. Come on, let's practice.” He gently guided her away from the mirror. He guided her hand to his shoulder, then held his hand by her side, hovering a bit. “Can I touch?”

She nodded, grinning, and his hand finally rested against her side, gently guiding her in a simple waltz. Neither of them was particularly graceful, but Jason had the most basic steps memorized from years of being forced to attend Wayne functions. They stared into each other's eyes, mesmerized by the adoration and security they found in each other.

The trance was broken by Stephanie's coos of; “Aww, you two are adorable~”

Jason cleared his throat, smiling softly. “So … this dress?”

She looked in the mirror again, fanning out the skirt a bit. “... You like it that much?” He nodded, unable to tear his eyes off her, and she grinned. “Ok, this one then.”

Steph spent the next hour helping her find shoes that she'd be able to walk and dance in before they were finally able to check out.

That night at her place, Jason offered her a plate and kissed her cheek. She was, inexplicably, excited about the gala, she had fun picking out a dress, and now he was going to butter her up even further with her favorite dinner. She beamed, leaning into the kiss, and blinked in surprise as he sat behind her, gently pulling her to lean against his chest. 

“... Babe?”

He hummed softly. “Yeah?”

“... You're … this is good?”

He nodded, arms wrapped around her waist, and kissed her shoulder. “This is good. Eat up~”

She grinned, trying not to vibrate with excitement, and ate happily. “Mh~ it's perfect~ thank you~”

“Of course~” Everything was falling into place. It had been a perfect day. There was no way she could be angry that he'd kept this from her for so long, right? She'd forgive him. She'd understand, and she'd love him anyway. She would… right?

Although, maybe he shouldn't be sitting so close when he told her. If it scared her, she might think him being behind her was a threat. And with him touching her like this, she was trapped against him. He didn't want her to feel trapped. He needed to find a casual way to let go of her, and get to the other side of the room so she would know she was safe when he told her … but he was so comfortable here … maybe just one more minute like this. 

… Besides, it was better not to ruin her dinner. … Actually, maybe he shouldn't do it today. He didn't want her to associate the meal with this news, after all. Plus, they had the gala coming up, if she was upset she'd feel beholden to him, to go together even if she was upset. He didn't want that. No, maybe he should do it after the gala. 

… Yeah, after the gala…

Next ->

Divider by: @saradika-graphics

Taglist (open):

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[bangaveragewhitewine]

such a flirt!

Eddie Munson x Reader (bouncer x bartender, established relationship)

May 1992

Flirting with Eddie Munson was in your top five favourite things to do. To flirt and be flirted with was written through him like a stick of rock candy. Feeling secure in your relationship, you don't let it bother you too much - you know that no matter how many women (and men) gave him doe eyes and fluttered their lashes, Eddie would be going home with you. 

That being said, you saw red when Crystal showed up. 

A follow-up to crazy-mad for you & I'm yours, all yours. (part of the Happy Hours series)

Word count: 7.9k

Content / Warnings: Jealous!Reader, feeling insecure & spiralling, comparing yourself to another person, mention of being cheated on in the past. A tiny fight (kinda). Female OC. Flirting, turned all the way up to eleven. Bi-panic 😈. This is 18+ if you are not 18 please read something else; semi-public sex, fingering, a hefty helping of dirty talk, slight perv!Eddie and mention of bruises left after sex. Eddie ‘Motormouth’ Munson, a certified menace.

This one is quite introspective, a look into Bartender-reader’s self-doubt and insecurities. 

Author’s note: Well girls, we’re back. I really can’t get these two out of my head. Thank you to bestie @specialagentmonkey for proofreading ♥️ 

Flirting with Eddie Munson was in your top five favourite things to do.

To flirt and be flirted with was written through him like a stick of rock candy. Perfected and fine-tuned over time, Eddie was smooth-talking, honey-tongued and could undress you with a simple glance - all things that had drawn you to your co-worker-turned-boyfriend. To bear witness to his talent (one of many, to be fair) had helped you to up your own flirt-game; figuring out how he liked to be flirted with, what made his pupils blow wide, or his tongue dart out to wet his lip. Flirtation was part of the very foundation of your relationship with the curly-haired rocker. 

Working together made your flirtation extra fun, a tool for extended foreplay while you poured shots and beers, while Eddie checked IDs and did his rounds to make sure no one was bumping coke in the bathroom (again). 

It also meant that you both had seen your other half be flirted with by strangers more times than you could even quantify. It was part of the job, a grin-and-bear-it part that sent Eddie home with more than one feather boa or a smeared lipstick mark on his cheek from a bachelorette party (bachelorettes loved your boyfriend, and you understood why). It also often meant you could make a few extra dollars on tips if and when you allowed it, extra dollars to buy a book or new tape you wanted or pay for takeout on your next night off together. 

You felt secure enough in your relationship to not let it bother you too much, knowing that no matter how many women (and men) gave him doe eyes and fluttered their lashes, Eddie would be going home with you. 

That being said, you saw red when Crystal showed up. 

It had started off as a usual shift; a Friday night in early May; the weather was warming up and the new cocktail menu you had put together was already proving popular. You and Eddie arrive together after an afternoon of lazy sex, reading together in bed and taking turns to make coffee before hauling yourselves up for a shared shower and a pre-shift diner dinner. 

By now you had all but officially moved into Eddie’s little apartment. You spent the odd night apart if you were meeting friends, or if Eddie had a gig, but oftentimes he would come crash at your place instead of going two more blocks home. His little one-bed apartment had begun to feel very much like home. You felt the question might be coming soon after he was a little too interested in your lease agreement and when it was up for renewal. If you had paid a little more attention, you might have noticed the dogeared YellowPages bookmarked with a scrap of paper on a page of addresses of key-cutting places on your side of the city.

You walked in the back door of Jackie’s, Eddie hot on your heels with his fingers dipping into the back pocket of your denim skirt to poke the mouth-shaped bruise he had bestowed upon your asscheek. It was in the tender purple-black stage, and he loved to rile you up by pawing at it.

“Quit it!” you hiss at him, scowling over your shoulder. “You’re a fuckin’ menace, Munson.” 

Eddie’s clever comeback is cut off by a roar of laughter from the bar. The bar doesn’t open for another hour so it’s only the other staff in before you.  

“Weird.” Eddie double-checks his watch to make sure he didn’t keep you late making out in the car or lose an hour somewhere. 

“Definitely weird,” you agree. “Is it someone’s birthday? Shit…” You think through the calendar in your head. Frank’s birthday isn’t for another two weeks… 

Eddie shrugs and cranes his neck as you turn the handle of the staff room door. “Go ahead out, nosy. Be there soon.”

Eddie pauses, makes sure you’re alone, and takes advantage of the distraction in the bar to press you against the doorframe. With an almost predatory grin, he leans in for a slow filthy kiss. Taking your surprised little gasp for an opportunity to slide his tongue against yours, he pulls that little gasping moan that he loves right from your throat. 

“Love you,” he murmurs before grazing your lip with his teeth. “Don’t miss me too much.”

He smacks a final kiss to your warm cheek and gives your achy butt one more squeeze before hot-footing it to the bar to see what’s going on. 

You hear his throaty laugh as he leaves you close to panting against the wall. “Asshole.” 

The staff room door muffles the noise as you scowl to yourself, left throbbing between your legs in more ways than one. As you swipe on some lipstick and tie your apron with a bow, you contemplate just how to get Eddie back for kissing you like something straight out of a smutty romance novel. After a final once-over in the mirror, you head out to join in on whatever is going on. 

Sitting on the bar, holding court, is the most stunning woman you have ever seen. She’s got these shiny green siren-eyes that command attention with hypnotic power. She reminds you of a copper-haired Kelly Bundy with deep red lips and the perkiest tits you have ever seen. 

She’s hot. 

She’s also got her hand on Eddie’s shoulder, toying with the freshly trimmed ends of his hair and twisting the coils around her long manicured nails. 

It makes something acidic unfurl and burn in your chest. 

He doesn’t even look over when you step out from the back, too busy nodding along to whatever the reincarnated Birth of Venus is saying. 

Through the sheer black of her blouse, you can spy ink that will have taken hours to press into creamy blemish-free skin, black and sharp and perfect. She carries an air of ‘your friend's cool older sister’, something utterly unattainable that makes you feel like an awkward teen again. 

Michelle beckons you over, flashing a smile when she sees you. “Hi sweetie,” she squeezes your hand with a little whisper. 

“Who’s -?” you mouth silently, not wanting to interrupt when this siren-woman has everyone hanging on every word. 

Before she can even answer, the goddess has everyone laughing again and she turns her attention on the late-comer to her one-woman show. You. 

“Oh hi! You’re new!” Her voice is sultry and smoky-smooth. “I’m Crystal, used to work here way back. You’re…?”

New? In a couple of months, it will be two whole years since you first stepped foot inside Jackie’s and scored a job the same night. 

You plaster on a smile, feeling tiny as you gaze up at the goddess on her plinth. You tell her your name, eyes darting to Eddie briefly but Frank has his ear while Crystal questions you. 

Michelle wraps her arm around your shoulders. “She’s a superstar. Our cocktail queen! Designed the new menu and everything,” she squeezes you against her and leans her blonde head against yours. 

“Oh, cute! You have to make me something later, okay?” Crystal insists, glancing at the board behind the bar where your carefully curated creations have been colourfully chalked up by Eddie’s artistic hand, complete with little illustrations of cocktail glasses - you had teared up when they surprised you with it. 

Crystal taps Eddie’s shoulder. “Ed, what’s good on the menu? Is there anything better than my Long Islands? You know, I used to make him drinks after every shift.” 

You watch your boyfriend smirk before he catches your eye. “Those were lethal, Crys. There’s not one bad drink on the menu. She worked super hard on it, best sellers all round.” Eddie winks at you, smiling proudly. It should settle then twisting discomfort in your chest but it barely touches the sides. 

“You’re such a flirt, Ed. My god.” Crystal laughs and shoves his shoulder gently before hopping down with her graceful long legs. “You got a cigarette? We better let them get the bar prepped. Friday nights are always so crazy here.” 

“Yeah, sure.” 

Crystal flashes a smile your way, something playful. “See ya later for that drink.”

Warm-cheeked and grey-matter scrambled, you watch Eddie pat down his pockets as Frank and the other bar staff tell Crystal how good it is to see her again. Jeff is already walking ahead toward the door, playing it smooth and cool though his eyes are hearts on stalks like a cartoon character. 

“Inside left, Ed,” you say, pointing out where his battered pack of smokes were hidden. You had slipped them in there after all. 

Eddie breathes a sigh of relief, a grin on his face - he plans on quitting or at least cutting down but right now, a shift without smokes doesn’t bear thinking about. He’s about to say thanks but you have already turned your back to hide your pink cheeks, ashamed of the jealousy coursing through you. 

It pisses you off more when he doesn’t come over anyway for one more kiss. Your lips still buzz from the swoon-worthy smooch he had laid on you but it turns to a sting as he turns and follows Crystal instead. 

You distract yourself with your to-do list before the bar opens and ponder over the history your boyfriend may or may not have with Jessica fucking Rabbit. 

You’re lucky not to lose a finger with how furiously you chop wedges and slices of lemons and limes, feeling totally on edge when you think about Crystal and Eddie laughing and smoking together. The last time you had seen another girl touch his hair he had very kindly moved her hand and directed her to the bar to buy a drink from you, ‘the hottie bartender, she’s my girlfriend - tell her Eddie says hi’.

Michelle lets you stew a bit as she checks the taps and restocks the straws and napkins. She catches you swearing at an unopenable jar of maraschinos, fearing you may smash the jar and slice your hand if you don’t quit knocking it on the counter. 

“Okay, what’s going on? Did those cherries kill your grandma?” she asks, taking the jar from your lime-juice-sticky hands. 

“Nothing's going on. I’m fine.” 

Liar. You’re actively thinking about how good Eddie and Crystal looked side-by-side and you hate it. Red and black, his favourite colours.

“Do you have cramps? Are you and Eddie fighting or somethin’?” she asks, hand on her hips. 

“No, and no. Just… Ugh.” You know Michelle doesn’t give up until she gets an answer. You love and hate her for it, she’s definitely one of your best friends for life now - especially when she opens the cherries without breaking a sweat. 

“Spill, babe.” She spears four cherries with two toothpicks; one for you and one for her. 

You accept it with a little smile that fades quickly and use the distraction to figure out how to say what you want to ask without sounding like a crazy person. 

“Crystal… Did she and Eddie…?” You brace for impact. 

Michelle raises one thin brow as she chews the sticky red fruit. “Go out? Fuck? Nuh-uh, don’t think so. You’d have to ask him though, babe. She’s just… super flirty. They were friendly, and I think she had a little crush on him.” She shrugs, “He left for tour before she quit, she moved out west.”

You nod, chewing the second cherry without really tasting it. “Yeah,” you sigh. “I guess… I just thought he might’ve told her I was his girlfriend or something.” 

Michelle watches your shoulder slump and pulls you in for a one-armed hug. “Maybe he should’ve. He did hype up your cocktails - he does that when he’s checking IDs y’know, gives out recommendations and everything. Totally whipped, huh?” 

She kisses your head and squeezes you to her side. “Don’t let it get to you. Crys will get bored soon, especially if he’s not flirting back. She’s a Vegas gal now, I doubt we’re to her standards anymore.”

You lean your head against your friend and fold yourself into a hug. “Thank you. You’re the best.” After a few moments, you speak again. “She’s so pretty.” 

“Ugh, I know. Makes my piss boil, she’s so hot.” 

You both break into giggles as you squeeze each other extra tight, pinky-swearing to have a girls’ night the next time you both have the same night off. 

With a little boost from Michelle, you finish setting up the bar and write up the night’s drink specials on the menu boards. You turn the music up to cover the sound of Eddie’s throaty laugh as it carries from inside the door, trying to ignore the twisting feeling in your gut. 

It’s busy from the off tonight and though you had plenty to distract you as you poured and mixed drinks, tendrils of jealousy crept in and coiled around you like boa constrictors. You half-watched Crystal flit and flirt around, distracting the other bartenders when she wasn’t lingering far too close to the door for your liking. 

Why hadn’t he ever mentioned her before? Had he flirted with her like had with you before you got together? Was she going to take her job back and take your boyfriend too? 

If she didn’t seem so fond of your boyfriend, you might just be in awe of her and want to be her best friend. Alas, your hang-ups don’t extend such kindness and instead make you bitterly territorial as you shrink into yourself, feeling like a toe in comparison to her. 

You want to take your overloaded brain out and shake the stupid thoughts out in a chilled silver shaker, strain them away before screwing your head back on so you could be normal about the woman who might have no ulterior motive for hanging around your boyfriend. 

Around nine thirty you step away from the bar to take your turn collecting empties from tables; the crowd is cheerful and you move around them with ease. Crystal isn’t anywhere and you see Eddie chatting to Frank by the door before the big boss heads home for the night. Your shoulders relax a little, hoping that Michelle is right and the redhead had decided to find somewhere a bit more salubrious for the rest of her night. 

It’s almost time for your first break; you need a stone-cold Diet Coke and ideally a joint - but that’s a post-shift treat, so fresh air will have to do. 

The catchy part of En Vogue’s My Lovin’ plays on a loop in your head as you drag yourself to the back door with your fizzing pint glass of Coke and lime. The ice clinks out of tune with your hum-singing. 

You’re almost at the door when you realise there’s someone else out there before you. The rest of the staff is behind the bar and Eddie doesn’t take his five minutes this early (not when the door is peak-busy). You try to spy through the gap in the door where it’s propped open with a crate and see a flash of shiny copper, perched on your stool. 

The click of ice against glass gives you away and Crystal turns her head, spotting you peeking. She’s not even supposed to be out here, but at least she’s not haunting Eddie - small mercies, you guess. You give her a tight smile and step outside.

“Oh, hi. Is it your break?” 

“Yeah. Just my five.” You shrug and sip your drink, leaning against the cool bricks as Crystal eyes you from behind the smoke of her menthol cigarette. 

“Want one?” she asks, offering the packet out. 

You do. You miss the menthol burn from high school parties. “Sure. Thanks.” 

She gives you a little smile and passes you the packet, a new Bic lighter under her thumb to light you up. 

“Is it nice to be back?” you ask, filling the silence after your thank you as Crystal looks at her nails. Up close you can see a few of her tattoos beneath her sheer blouse; a rose on her shoulder, a fierce trad style leopard on her inner arm.

“Oh yeah. Missed the guys, they’re such sweethearts.” She smiles and watches you sip your drink. You feel like a lamb next to her, an elegant lioness. “You like working here?” 

“I really do. They’re kinda like family now.” It’s no word of a lie. 

“Cute. It was one of the best places I worked.” She stubs her smoke under the block of her heel. “You work with Eddie much?” 

And there it is. 

You take a long minty drag. “Yeah, pretty often. We’re usually scheduled on the same shifts.”

Crystal nods her head. “Super hot right? Somethin’ nice to look at to make the night go faster huh?” You watch her lips curve into a coy grin.

Your own smile is a little at her expense. 

“Oh for sure.” You double-fist your drink and cigarette, tapping the ash off carefully. “That’s why we don’t let him behind the bar, leave him by the door to draw in the girls.” You echo Frank and Michelle’s teasing of your boyfriend; his heavy pours and clumsiness with glasses are the main reasons he stays stationed on security, but it’s fun to tease him. 

Crystal laughs at that, head thrown back. “Right?! And such a flirt!”

It’s the second time she mentioned that tonight. It wasn’t a lie - you’re simply used to being the only subject of Eddie’s well-practised flirtation after seven months of being his girlfriend. 

It rattles around your head, clanging like a bell. Such a flirt! There are a few beats of silence before she speaks again.

“Hey, do you know if he’s seeing anyone?” Crystal asks. “I’m flying back out on Sunday. The rockstar thing really does it for me.”

You feel a stone - nay, a boulder - sink in your belly and take another drink as she continues. God, you wish you had spiked this for yourself, smoky-sweet rum or clean sharp vodka. The chill of the ice and menthol can’t dampen the burn in your chest, a heady mix of jealousy and rage. 

“I was going to try and link up with him when he was on tour, I was in L.A. for a bit before the move to Las Vegas. I thought he might stick around out there a while,” Crystal digs around in her purse for her compact and lipstick as she speaks, prettying her already stunning self up for your boyfriend. “Maybe tonight’s my night,” she says, touching up her powder before looking at you for an answer.

You blink a few times, bathing your sticky tongue with cold Coke before you can speak. 

“Sorry, Crystal.” Your voice is surprisingly steady for how all over the place you feel. “Yeah, he’s definitely got a girlfriend. Together almost a year.” You blow menthol smoke into the air, feeling it turn your mouth acrid in a way that can’t be balanced by your sweet drink. You crush the half-smoked cig under your boot and push off the wall to head back inside.

“Guess tonight’s not your night,” you say, shrugging.

It’s a little bitchy and mean when you could just put her out of her misery. Instead, you just turn and head back inside, cutting your short break even shorter. You shut the door behind you, slamming it just hard enough to make a point.

You should have just told her, acted like a grown-up instead of a jealous teenager with a chip on your shoulder. The anxious little worm in your brain had decided for you, calling out ‘don’t tell her, she won’t believe that Eddie would want a girl like you when goddess-women like her walk the earth!’

As you rest your back to the door, you squeeze your eyes shut and take a deep breath. 

In for four, hold for four, out for four. 

Eddie isn’t like Connor. He’s not like Eric either. 

Years of hurt and heartbreak, being someone’s number one until someone better, prettier, funnier came along, had made you wary of dating when you boxed up your life and moved to Chicago. You had gone on a few really crappy dates last summer before getting together with Eddie, before he showed you the real him (unexpectedly sweet-hearted, willing to get a bloody nose in a fight for you). 

His flirty nature had made you wary of having your heart broken by a charming ladies' man all over again. But that’s not your Eddie. He had promised you that wasn’t him, showered you with love and promised you were it for him. He never seemed frustrated with affirming his feelings for you, promising you it was the real deal. He loved the heartbroken girl inside you just as much as he adored the woman you are now.

Having a borderline existential crisis on your five-minute break wasn’t the respite you had planned from the busy bar. As you splash cool water on your wrists and spritz your warm cheeks with rose water, you just hope that Crystal isn’t one of the girls who sees a man with a girlfriend as a fun challenge rather than off-limits. 

When you feel a little less shaky - or steady enough to not drop every glass you pick up - you tag one of the other barmen to go on his five and slot back into your pit of self-loathing, hidden behind a smile and the beer taps. By the time you shake up six Appletinis and a tray of Blowjob shots for a table of girls celebrating a birthday, you have convinced yourself that Eddie would probably be better off with Crystal instead of your petty jealous ass. 

You’re so deep in your wallowing that you miss Eddie darting from the door to your side of the bar. His hand is tapping the drink-slick bar top to get your attention before you even see him. 

“Psst. Hey, c’mere. Need to talk to you.”

Are you in trouble? Had Crystal told him about your less-than-friendly behaviour? You plaster a smile on, one that he sees right through. 

“Ed, I’m working. What’s wrong?” you ask, stepping away from your station to hear him better over the music. 

“M’working too, it’ll just take a sec.” Eddie leans forward, smiling cheekily. “You’re my girlfriend, right?” 

Your cheeks heat up. Shit. He knows. 

You nod. “Yeah…”

“Lemme hear you say it?” he tilts his head, batting his lashes a little playfully.

You sigh and roll your eyes, pretending that your heart isn’t beating out of your chest, even though it feels a little bruised. “I’m your girlfriend.”

He looks triumphant and amused and pulls your hand in between his own, holding it like a treasure. “Okay, good. Why didn’t you just tell Crys that?”

The rolling boil of hurt that had been bubbling in your chest all evening and into the night doesn’t evaporate with Eddie’s loving little touch. 

“Why didn’t you tell her, Ed? You could’ve told her fuckin’ hours ago that I was your girl.”

Your heads are close together as Eddie leans in to hear you over Alannah Myles crooning Black Velvet.

Expecting you to be a little more playful, matching his energy, he sobers and frowns, studying the hurt marring your pretty face. “Oh shit. Honey…” 

“It hurt, Ed. You had like two chances right off the bat... How many more did you miss, huh?” 

Eddie’s brows disappear under his bangs. “Fuck, it’s not like that. I didn’t realise… Didn’t even think. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah? Good.” You squeeze his hand anyway, proud of yourself for not minimising your feelings to just go back to normal. 

“Baby…” “Eddie…”

His Bambi eyes aren’t enough this time. But you know he’s going to feel like shit because he hurt you, which makes you feel crappy for ever doubting him. 

“Can I kiss it better?” Eddie’s pouted lower lip is obscenely kissable. 

A mid-shift kiss is usually Eddie’s reason for waylaying you at the bar, though he can usually hold off until your break together. He leaves Jeff to man the door when it’s quiet so he can claim his sugar tax or borrow your lip balm (he really has an impressive collection of euphemisms for begging a kiss from you). 

You’re usually very forthcoming, and right now you would love a kiss but the opportunity to fuck with him and get a little payback for his romance novella bullshit earlier (getting you worked up before the longest shift of your life) feels too good to miss. Your scheming lifts your mood from the doom spiral, just a little.

Yeah, flirting with Eddie was core to the foundation of your relationship, but so was fucking around with him. 

You meet his baby cow eyes with your own gaze, looking through your black-coated lashes. 

“You love me?”  “To the death.” “Then you can wait.”

Eddie’s jaw drops. One hand clutches his heart as the other holds your hand even tighter. “Baby… You’re really withholding a kiss right now? I said sorry! And I meant it!” 

You roll your eyes, classic drama queen Munson. You fucking love him. 

“I am.” “You’re killing me.”

You smile and lift his hand to kiss the back of it. “Then suffer. I’ve got customers to serve, Ed. See you at twelve - maybe you’ll get a kiss then.” 

You pat his cheek and turn away, hearing the thud of skull versus countertop as he groans like a wounded man. 

He’s going to be insufferably lovely for the rest of the weekend to make it up to you.

Your re-found spring in your step has you back in your usual flow as you pour beers side by side with Michelle. Eddie has dragged himself back to the door to sulk, but not before tossing scowling puppy eyes over his shoulder at you. 

“I should be pissed you’re slacking off to talk to your boyfriend but whatever that was made you actually smile, so I’m here for it.” She grins and bumps your hip with her own, your signature move together as you work in tandem. 

“Just a wee bit of payback. I’ll tell you on girls’ night,” you promise, hearing her laugh as you ring up your customer. 

Spirits lifted, albeit at your boyfriend’s expense, you make it through the peak of the night without spiralling any further. In fact, your distraction is all Eddie Eddie Eddie.

At least until the scent of freshly spritzed Dior Poison wafts over the bar as you catch sight of copper and red next in line for you. Crystal. 

She looks just as gorgeous when she’s a little bashful, giving you a warm smile - a promise that she comes in peace. 

You’re cringing, wishing you could duck behind the bar, but you definitely owe her an apology. 

“Hi.”

“Hey, Crystal. I think I owe you a cocktail…”

She smiles, her creamy cheeks blushing in the dim light of the bar. “What do you recommend? I’ve heard you’re like, the queen of mixology and know exactly what drink people will like.” 

You can hear Eddie’s praise of you in her words; his little alchemist, his sexy potion-mistress. He took his role of taste-tester in chief with the utmost seriousness. 

“Mm, I do my best. You like cherries?” you ask, tilting your head. 

“I do.” 

She lifts her arm to show you a stick and poke cherry tattoo on her wrist. 

“Tequila?”

“Girl… Are you in my brain right now?” 

You grin and shake up a mix of cherry liquor, ginger syrup, tequila and lime juice with ice - adding a little extra cherry syrup just because. You pour the mixed margarita into a chilled glass with salt and sugar rim and a cherry garnish. 

“Don’t even think of getting your purse out,” you say as you slide it across the bar. “I’m sorry for being weird.”

Crystal accepts the proffered straw and slides it into her drink, taking a slow sip. Her eyes blow wide as the flavours of cherry and earthy tequila bathe her tongue, zinging sharp with bright lime. “This is amazing.”

You smile and shrug. “It’s my personal favourite, and… Well, you strike me as a woman with excellent taste too.” 

The thick tension and coiling vines of envy from before are totally gone now as you both share a knowing smile. 

“Sorry for flirting with your boyfriend. I definitely wouldn’t have if I knew…” Crystal squeezes your forearm where it rests on the bar. “Nothing ever happened between us, just friends when I worked here. We flirted back and forth, just for fun. That’s all.” 

You nod, feeling more at peace now. “He’s fun to flirt with, I don’t blame you. We started off just flirting too. And bitching at each other. Just for fun.” 

Crystal smiles and sips her drink again. “He’s crazy about you. You know that right? Only has eyes for you. He’s got it bad.” 

Feeling your cheeks and chest heat up, you nod again. “I do, I’m kinda crazy about him too. Literally crazy tonight, apparently. I’m really sorry I was a total weirdo with you earlier.” 

Crystal extends one hand, long red nails pointed at you, and you take it to shake. “Water under the bridge, babe.”

You wish you hadn’t wasted your time spiralling when you could have been making a friend.

She squeezes your hand, making sure you’re looking at her. “Y’know, I was gonna ask earlier if you were single even if Eddie wasn’t… The hot bartender thing also does it for me.”

Oh, she was good. 

So good that your brain goes static for a few moments. 

The hot girl thinks you’re hot. She’s totally flirting right now. It feels…good?

Crystal fixes you with that siren stare, black lashes sweeping her cheeks when she blinks slowly. Your face and chest flame hot as you become the focus of her flirtation.

“Uh… I… Wow. Really? Sorry… We kinda ruined your night, huh?” Your voice is shakier than you would like, your tongue thick in your mouth, but she finds it endearingly sweet.

“Nah, you made me this yummy drink. And hey, if you two are ever planning a trip, Vegas can be lots of fun. Come find me maybe?” 

Crystal drops you a wink before disappearing into the crowd like a breath of cherry smoke, a napkin with her number left on the bar for you - for you and Eddie. You fold it into your back pocket, another little thing to tease Eddie with when you get on your break with him.

Being flirted with and propositioned while you were working had never been quite so fun or exhilarating. Usually, it made you feel icky, but now you feel like you’re zinging with electricity that helps you power through the thirsty queuing customers cleaning spills and collecting glasses until you’re tagged to go on break again.

You uncap a beer for yourself, shoving lime in the tall neck, and take one for Eddie with you when you head out back to meet him. You pause to swipe more rosy lipstick on before shouldering past the heavy exit door. 

Your brain hurts from the tornado of different emotions you have experienced on your shift so far, but the chill of brick against the back of your head and the cool beer on your tongue helps. 

As always, you hear your boyfriend before you see him. Tonight is heavy boots pounding on stone as he rushes back to you, unable to stand another second of being un-kissed. 

“Medic? We have an emergency!”

For a moment you think he might not be fucking around, but the way his eyes glint when he sees you proves otherwise. 

“Jesus Christ, you scared the shit outta me,” you tut. 

“Thank god you’re here! It’s life or death.” His breath comes quick as he stops in front of you, holding your face in his hands. “There’s a dying man, he needs urgent mouth-to-mouth.”

Your brow rises as you fight the urge to grin. “Oh yeah? Poor guy. Sounds fatal.” 

“It is. He was a total idiot and now he’s not got long left.” 

Those baby cow eyes shine with genuine regret, sparkling with a sprinkle of mischief that is so innate to Eddie Munson. 

“Well, maybe I can help. But I don’t think he’s totally in the wrong.” Your hand slips over his shoulder, touching butter-soft leather. “There’s also a crazy woman on the loose - you might have seen her… I think it might be all my fault.”

“Nah. Only saw this crazy-beautiful woman. She looked kinda sad though… Broke my heart a little.” 

You look up into Eddie’s eyes, feeling more than in love as you close the gap between you. Pillow-soft lips press against your rose-tinted mouth, kissing away any remnants of worry and sadness as he wraps you up in his arms. 

“I fuckin’ love you, baby,” he murmurs, barely breaking away to remind you of what is true. “M’sorry.”

“I love you.” Your palm curves, moulding against his neck and you can feel his pulse hammering beneath. You move back slightly, so you can tell him what was bugging you without being waylaid by the need to kiss him. “I got so in my head. It just…”

Eddie’s head rests against yours as he listens. 

“I got really jealous.” It’s barely a whisper when you speak it out loud. “It was stupid because it was all in my head.” 

Eddie runs his nose against yours, lips tracing its path until they press your forehead. 

“S’not stupid if it’s real to you, princess.” Eddie holds you against him, pressing kiss after kiss to your busy head. “I wish I could’ve made it better sooner. It’s not nice to hear that I made you doubt me. I’m not going to hold it against you, I promise.” 

You direct him back to your lips, kissing him when words fail you. 

“M’sorry,” you whisper against his mouth. “I never doubted you, Eddie. I just.. it was me. I didn’t get why you’d want me when Crystal was right there. She’s the hottest woman ever.” 

Eddie scoffs. “Are you jokin’ with me? Baby, you are the hottest woman ever.” 

“Eddie, it’s fine. We both have eyes - she’s hot,” you admit, smiling a little. “Wanna hear something funny?” 

He nods and presses one more kiss to your mouth. 

“She was trying to flirt with me too. I was just too up in my head to realise…” 

Eddie grins, shaking his head. “As she should, you’re smokin’.” 

Your arms wrap around him, hugging tight. “We’re all good now. I made her a drink, she prepositioned me…” you say, totally offhand. 

You brace for Eddie’s reaction. 

A ten thousand-watt grin almost blinds you when Eddie peels himself back. “Oh yeah? That is kinda hot…” 

“Shut up.” Your voice wobbles with laughter. “Don’t worry, babe. She said you’re invited too. If we’re ever in Vegas, that is…” 

Brown eyes blow wide - Eddie doesn’t know what to do with himself. “H-whaa?”

Pressing your face against the soft black cotton of his t-shirt, you giggle against his chest. “You heard me. She was crushing on both of us tonight.” 

“That… I… My brain has stopped working…” “Stop imagining it, Edward.” “I’m not.” “You are! I can feel your dick on my leg, dude!”

Eddie takes two steps back, hands on his head as he spins in a circle. “I’m in some parallel realm. Did I die? Oh, I did die… See? This is why you should’ve kissed me earlier! I’m flatlining here! Medic!”

His dramatic ass has you cackling, cheeks hurting as the no-game nerd inside him fails to comprehend what you just told him. You were both interested in exploring with each other in the bedroom and had already broadened your tastes with him, but neither of you had anticipated stumbling across this unopened door…

“So I’ll throw her number in the trash?” you ask, sipping your beer with a pointed raise of your brow. 

The nonsensical goblin-yelp that comes from Eddie’s mouth makes the bubbles fizz up the back of your throat, making you cough and splutter. He’s an absolute dork and you adore him.

He presses pause on the dramatics to check on you, making sure you’re not going to choke on lime-spiked beer.

“Hot.” Eddie laughs as he wipes the fizz from your lip, then pats you hard on the back. He pouts as you pinch your brows at the sting of beer in your nose. “Poor baby.”

“Dick.”

“Yeah, your dick.” His cheeky grin softens. “You’re the only woman for me,” Eddie says, cupping your face again. “I mean it. It’s hot as fuck that we were kinda prepositioned like that, but you’re it. I only want you.” 

You pull him in for a kiss again, deeper this time as his tongue licks against yours. The zing of electricity that runs the length of your spine pushes you closer to Eddie.

“Yeah? Even if Elvira rocks up?”  “She’s my hall pass, baby. Just like you and Keanu.” “Mmmm...okay.” 

Eddie drags you in for another smiling kiss. You feel small in comparison to the breadth of his shoulders, the subtle bulk he carries - you love it. His hand rests on your neck as he presses up close to you, thigh slotted between yours where your skirt pulls tight across the plush part of your legs. The well-loved denim bunches and slips higher as Eddie crowds you against the brickwork - he’s amped up and wound tight too many kiss-less hours and the revelations of the last few minutes. It’s easy to match him, mirror the needy grasp of hands on denim to pull him close.

His kisses soothe any whisper of doubt or fear that haunted you since your shift started.

“You’re so fuckin’ sexy, princess. S’hot that you’re crazy for me,” he murmurs against the side of your mouth before diving in again for another filthier kiss. 

Your nails graze the back of his head, fingers twisting and tugging in dark brown curls to draw that pleasured little noise from the back of Eddie’s throat and swallow it all for yourself. Hips shift against the meat of his thigh; silky lace on denim dark enough to mask the damp mark you’re bound to leave there. 

Eddie’s mouth moves down to your neck, seeking out that spot that makes your jaw drop open and your lashes flutter. One big ringed hand dips lower to encourage your hips to roll and rock against him, propped against the wall with his lean strength holding you up. “That’s it, baby. I gotcha.”

It’s easy to forget you’re at work, where any one of your co-workers could come looking for you or Eddie, but when he’s touching you like this and making you burn for him you can’t spare the space in your brain to care. You’re sure that you should both be on some sort of formal warning by now after how many times you have been caught making out and groping each other on your breaks. You had given him a hand (and head) more than once on the clock; some nights were slow and called for a distraction. 

And nights like this? When you need each other so desperately, they were something else entirely. 

“Ed..” Your voice sounds whiny and pathetic in your own ears as you clutch at his shoulders. 

“That’s me, doll,” he murmurs, “M’gonna make it up to you okay? Say sorry for making you jealous’n’sad.” His fingers slip up beneath the bunched hem of your skirt, touching the warm spot on the front of your underwear as his forehead presses against yours. “Can I? Just a little somethin’? Promise I’ll make your head all empty when we get home. Yeah?”   

You’re a weak woman, rendered boneless and speechless as Eddie’s fingertips press there. With a lazy nod, dragging him back for a kiss, you roll your pelvis against his hand. 

“That’s it.”

You feel his smile against your mouth as he pushes your underwear to the side, enough to feel how wet you are as his fingers press and dip and stroke. Eddie drags your slick gloss up, easing the friction as he circles his thumb.

“Oh Jesus,” you gasp, a shuddering breath as he pushes two fingers inside with ease. You hold him to you, clutching the back of his neck.

Eddie spares you a cocky comment in favour of kissing you again, stroking up inside you before beginning to fuck into you. He doesn’t stop his kisses when your jaw slackens, tongue meeting his with lazy strokes as blood rushes in your ears. 

“That’s it, just let me take care of my girl.”

My girl. It gets you every time. 

He feels the pulse and gush, a Pavlovian reaction, and presses deeper. 

A slow pleasured smile spreads on your face as his fingers fill you. Eddie watches, eyes heavy-lidded, before moving back to kiss your neck. 

Motormouth Munson keeps his title as he murmurs filth against your neck, punctuating praise and promises with sucking kisses and scrapes of teeth, soothed by his slick tongue. 

“That’s my girl, I know what she likes. Need it so bad, don’t you?”

“Oh, you’re so fuckin’ soaked for me. Can feel you pullin’ me in, princess.”

“You been so worked up all night, huh? I’m gonna take such good care of you. Not leavin’ our bed tomorrow until you forget your own name. Gonna show you just how much I love you, baby.”

You choke down your moans, quietening yourself to breathy gasps and pleas in Eddie’s name. The fear of interruption, of getting caught, gets you both going. 

Eddie hoists your thigh up to his hip, widening you more more more as his fingers find, then curl and press on your spongy spot. 

Your moan is muffled against his shoulder, still too loud to be decent and louder still in Eddie’s ears. 

“Fuck, there we go. Oh, you’re so fuckin’ close already, huh? Gonna come for me right here?” His voice is low and rough, words ground out as you feel him hard against your leg.

“Yeah,” you whimper, already shaking. “G-uh.. Oh god.” Your back arches away from the brick as his fingers speed up, thumb pressing hard circles in tandem. “Eddie… Fuck, fuckkk!” 

He nods, speeding up just enough, just like he knows you need. Eddie squares his jaw as he listens to the sloppy wet sound of his fingers between your legs. Your jaw drops, brow creases; blissful agony. Eddie steals another kiss, soaking up the little noises you make when you’re close, the noises that make him throb in his jeans. 

“Come on, sweetheart. Come for me.” 

You leave the marks of your teeth on his leather-clad shoulder, biting back your moan as you obey. Eddie makes you come hard, making you drip over his silver rings. Eddie has to hold you up, keep you steady as your body convulses with absolute bliss. You hold on like he’s your life raft; he is your life raft - steady and sure when you falter or fall.

Eddie keeps you close, basking in your glow as you catch your breath. The hand on your thigh moves, cups and cradles the back of your head so you don’t bust it too hard against the wall. 

“Fuck, baby. That was a big one.” He smiles when you smile, pliant and lazy, brushing kisses and praise against your hot cheek. He reaches to prop the stool beneath you to take your leaden weight. 

“There she is, my pretty princess.” When you open your eyes, you can see the flush on his cheeks and the pulse of the vein in his neck. 

You’re so utterly spoiled by this man. You kiss his lips, softer now as you come back to life, to earth. You’re shaky, breathless but you feel alive. You feel loved. 

“That was… Full marks, no notes.” 

Eddie raises a fist, triumphant like John Bender. “I know what my baby needs.”

He makes you giggle and bite your lip as he licks the taste of you from his fingers. “Sweet.”

You pass him your open beer to down as his prize, as you put yourself back together, sliding your ruined underwear off over your boots to use in lieu of a rag. 

Eddie snatches them just as you consider trashing them (not that you were going to, they weren’t cheap). “Mine.” He’s breathless from sucking down the fizzy beer as tucks them into his pocket.

Your laugh is shaky but you don’t even fight him on it. It’s not the first pair he has pocketed mid-shift, nor will it be the last. 

“Pervert.”

He shoves them against his nose for good measure, living up to the accusation. “Oh yeah. That’s the good shit.” He winks before shoving them back inside his leather jacket, right by his heart. A romantic pervert at least. 

“That keep you going for the rest of the night? Until I get you home?” Eddie asks, before starting on the second beer; he shares a few sips with you.

“Mm, just about. You have promises to keep, rockstar,” you say, pulling him in with fingers hooked in his belt loops. “I wanna return the favour but ‘Chelle will kill both of us if we disappear again…”

“I’ll survive. Be strong.” He musters up faux courage as you press kisses to his face. 

“My brave boy.”

Your arms wind around each other, hugging and holding your other half close. 

“Y’feeling a bit better than earlier?” Eddie runs his hands up and down your back; his voice is sincere and sober.

“Mmhm. Much better. Not just ‘coz you made me come. But that did help.” You smile and tuck your head under his chin. 

He hums a happy noise and presses his lips to your head. “Glad to be of cervix. I mean, service.” 

“Ugh. Really?” You can feel him laughing, shaking with it. 

“It’s a good one!”  “Eddie, my love - what’s a cervix?” “It’s like…womb-adjacent.” You can hear his smugness. “Hmm, don’t need to know how you know that.” “Did biology three times.” “Oh. Okay.” 

You weren’t sure what you were expecting. You tilt your head to look up at him and smile when he kisses you again. 

“If I help you clean up later we can get fries on the way home. You’re going to need your strength, baby.” 

His eyes glint with that look that makes your tummy flutter. 

“Deal.”

Eddie cups your face and kisses you with a soft sweetness, something like a peach, that contrasts with his filthy promises of taking you apart and putting you back together later. 

He helps you up from the stool, making sure your knees don’t buckle and your skirt is pulled down properly to cover up your lack of underwear. 

Eddie makes you spin for him, admiring you with his kiss-bitten lip between his teeth. “Mm, one more time for me?” 

You roll your eyes at him before tucking yourself under his arm.

“Love you.” Eddie pulls you in for one more peck before opening the back door for you. 

“Love you more, rockstar.” You feel like a girl being walked to homeroom as he smooches one more kiss against your cheek. 

As he backs away, not wanting to be the first to turn, Eddie points a finger at you, “Love you most.” 

You roll your eyes, grinning anyway as he backs around the corner with the Bender-fist raised in the air again. 

Eddie Munson might be a flirt, such a flirt, but he is all yours.

Thank you for reading! Likes, reblogs and comments are absolutely adored and cherished ❤️ 

Tags: @oneforthemunny @munsonmecrazy @parmawiolets

[therunawaybread]

I need someone to write a fic where Jason after coming back from the dead has amnesia.

He doesn't remember Bruce, Dick, Alfred, anyone.

And Talia being the fierce tiger mama she is decides that his previous life had been and endless fight for survival and just wants the best for him. So she tells him the truth that he was murdered, that he came back, that she healed him via Lazarus Pit, but convinces him that he doesn't need to remember his previous life. That it will only cause him pain. And he kinda has a gut feeling to trust her so he listens to her.

She sends him to school, cares for him. She becomes his mom.

Of course she teaches him how to fight but not to the same extent. More like an insurance that he can defend himself.

He graduates high school (early, because he's a smart bean) and goes to collage.

A med school.

Graduates at the top of his class and becomes a doctor unbelievably young.

Talia couldn't be more proud.

But there's always been something in his chest pulling him towards Gotham.

Talia relents (she never could say no to her children).

Talia explains the situation to Dr Thompkins and she totally agrees that Jason deserves a normal, peaceful life after what he's been through.

He doesn't work at her clinic (the Bats would find him) but he knows her and knows that she's there for him.

He's an amazing doctor. All his patients love him (even the most skittish kids). He's young, handsome (and packed). Soon he becomes basically like a hospital's own celebrity.

He spends most of his days at work, but when he does have time he hangs out with the street kids of Crime Alley. He feels he belongs there and Talia explains that this is where he's from. It feels so right to be there. It doesn't take long for all the kids to flock to him after he buys them food, clothing and cleans all their scrapes and cuts.

Jason lives a happy, content life even though he doesn't remember the first 15 years.

Then there's a huge funding from Bruce Wayne and Jason is the one assigned to walking Mr Wayne around the hospital and letting him personally meet some kids that were saved by his charities.

The Jason Todd Foundation to be exact.

[tobiasdrake]

Hi! Absolutely adore your DBZ analyses, thank you so much - just spent a delightful time reading them all. I was wondering, since you've commented on Chi-Chi and Goku's marriage, what do you have to say about Vegeta and Bulma's relationship? (I've always been entranced by it - mostly because as with all his romances, Toriyama had the wisdom not to show any of it onscreen. But I'd love to know your thoughts about it.)

Bulma and Vegeta are a match made in Hell, and they deserve each other. (Which is to say yes, I love this ship.)

Hooking Bulma up with Vegeta was a hell of a narrative swerve. Generally speaking, stories rarely do this; They rarely let characters break up once they're already invested in a romance, unless it's supposed to be like a love triangle thing.

And Bulma? Bulma was invested. At least, to a degree.

This was the birth of the original Bulma romance that ran through about half of the manga. Two teens interesting in the opposite sex suddenly realize the availability of the other and a relationship is born.

Toriyama says he's bad at writing romance but to be honest, this has always hit me as more believable than your typical drawn-out five-seasons-of-pining Will They/Won't They affair. I'm a girl. You're a boy. Wanna go out and see what clicks?

And these two... these two do not click. We only really see their relationship from Bulma's perspective but it's clear that these two are miserable together.

The manga sorta takes Bulma's side, in that we never really get to hear Yamcha's opinion about their relationship one way or another. When he's around, all he wants to do is talk shop about martial arts. Since Toriyama doesn't like to write romance, we simply don't see much of it from them. What little we do hear about it comes from Bulma complaining about how miserable she is.

Bulma is pretty much always pissed off whenever the relationship is in focus at all.

Anime filler tends to take Yamcha's side instead, portraying him as a put-upon victim of Bulma's jealousy and abuse. A nice guy who doesn't deserve the way she treats him.

It's not hard to buy into this interpretation of their relationship since, as noted, we rarely get anything from Yamcha with regard to his relationship to women or Bulma specifically but we know Bulma's a lot. It's easy to accept Bulma as the "bad guy" of this relationship because. Like. Remember that time she enslaved a sentient being? Good times.

Though one particular moment from Yamcha later on kinda stands out as a bit of a retroactive Yikes.

Yeah. Uh. Threatening violence against a woman for rejecting his bro is a bit of a Yikes. Is this who we were supposed to see Yamcha as all this time? Because, if so, it might have helped to let him opine about the relationship more. Just saiyan.

According to Toriyama in interview, Yamcha and Bulma ultimately broke up because she caught Yamcha cheating on her. I guess that's what him being "popular with girls" was supposed to mean: Once he got over his gynophobia and found confidence with the opposite sex, Yamcha became a player.

But that doesn't necessarily come across from the statement, "Bulma can't stand that Yamcha's popular with girls." A lot of fans took that to mean girls just like him for no reason, and Bulma's unreasonably jealous about it. The anime took that position too.

Note that the "Yamcha is popular with girls" thing isn't helped by the fact that we never see it on-panel because he's only ever talking shop when he's around. But we do see a wandering eye from Bulma often enough.

There's nothing wrong with enjoying the aesthetic appeal of another party even when you're in a monogamous relationship, but it doesn't really present the "Other party is a womanizer and cheater" case when you're the only one ever seen doing this.

So it feels like there's a lot about Yamcha and Bulma's relationship that never made it to print yet influenced later decisions. Those decisions ended up being controversial because the foundation for those decisions was never laid. Here, Toriyama's disdain for writing romance worked against him.

But ultimately, regardless of whose side you take, it doesn't really matter. It doesn't matter who the "bad guy" is. A healthy relationship does not have a "bad guy" in it.

Whether or not Yamcha cheated, whether or not Bulma's just an unreasonably jealous hell-beast, it doesn't actually matter. What matters is that once you reach the point where you're taking sides over which party is the most obnoxious asshole and I hate you and I wish we never met... this relationship is not working for anybody.

It doesn't matter who the bad guy is. It doesn't matter who deserves the blame for this relationship being a toxic shithole. That there is blame to throw around in the first place is the problem. Every relationship has its ups and downs but if one party is constantly miserable for years and has possibly been looking for an escape hatch since year 1, that's not a little tiff.

What matters is that these two are not working out. Any time we see their relationship in focus, they are miserable together. The anime tried to do some patchwork on that with audience reception by giving them some cute moments as well, but because those moments aren't canon the pair remained miserable.

And then this happened.

Despite everything, I think we all assumed that Bulma and Yamcha were going to work it out. Fictional relationships are often portrayed as tumultuous. To a writer, nothing says true love like being constantly miserable and despising every waking moment you spend with your awful, nagging ball-and-chain of a spouse. That's just. Like. What the straights think romance is. It's weird.

I think we all thought that was going to be the deal here too. And then Trunks came along and said, "Nope, actually, they finally severed the cord."

Again, Toriyama says he's bad at writing romance but holy shit, the toxic and miserable relationship actually ended. The two characters involved who only got together out of loneliness and desperation later found they were incompatible with each other. That's so real. Much moreso than a lot of fictional romances.

Instead, we got the absolute crack ship that is Vegeta and Bulma. What a wild-ass revelation for Trunks to drop.

Like. Until the end of the Namek arc, this was the only time these two characters even met.

She also saw Vegeta for like two seconds here.

That was it. That was their entire history together until Goku defeated Frieza while Kaio sent everyone to Earth. But that's when everything changed for Vegeta.

Stranded on Earth with no ship, no affiliations, no ability to leave the planet and nowhere to go or be and no obligations to anyone but himself, Vegeta's circumstances were wildly different than they'd ever been before. He had become one of the Namekian refugees.

And Bulma was offering refuge.

Hard to resist, indeed. That moment is absolutely hilarious in retrospect. Bulma rolled a Nat 20 on that charisma check. It's pretty clear who the instigator of this relationship was.

Like. It needs to be stated that at this point, the only thing Bulma knew about Vegeta was that he tried to kill them all multiple times, and also he's kinda hot. But. Like.

It's Bulma. Anyone who doesn't expect this from her by now either hasn't been paying attention or started watching the English dub of the anime when they did Z first.

So, naturally, Vegeta is a kind and loving man and became a phenomenal husband and fa--

Wait. No. I got my notes mixed up. It says here Vegeta's a rotten dirty bastard. Like. Chronically. He has Supreme Dickshit Syndrome. It's genetic.

Most of Bulma and Vegeta's developing relationship happens offscreen. From what snippets we get, Vegeta has a tendency to vanish during the day, but he still lives at Capsule Corp so Bulma sees him around.

By the end of the three-year timeskip, it's official. Or semi-official. Yamcha and Bulma broke up at some point during that timeskip and Bulma's given birth to Trunks.

As for Vegeta, he's evidently moved out of Capsule Corp and into his own place.

I guess he's still keeping contact with Bulma since she knows what his intentions are. Not to mention he found his tranquility during these three years, though it's somewhat ambiguous as to what exactly brought that peace to his heart.

But the relationship is off to a rocky start nonetheless. Clearly something went down between Vegeta and Bulma that drove Vegeta out of Capsule Corp. To. Uh. Somewhere.

I like to imagine Vegeta living in some shitty West City apartment he rents off a stipend Bulma's sending him that he refuses to openly acknowledge. Like, room 101 is a down-on-his-luck tax accountant, room 102 is a couple with a kid trying to make ends meet off two retail workers' salaries, and then room 103 is Vegeta, Prince of All Saiyans. Sometimes he goes to community events and pretends he isn't having fun.

No lie, I would absolutely watch that as a sitcom.

As for Vegeta himself, he's still a rotten dirty bastard.

Worth noting that Vegeta's saying this as a Super Saiyan which means he's drunk on the form's enhanced aggression. But. Still. Vegeta is an absolute monster being dragged kicking and screaming into a pleasant life that he'll one day resent himself for enjoying. This is his arc moving forward.

It's not so much a redemption arc as it is a domestication arc. The uniquely evil even by Saiyan standards Vegeta is gradually being changed by his new terrestrial life. He doesn't want to own up to how much he enjoys it here. Seven years later, he's still desperate to avoid owning up to it.

He doesn't want to be happy here. He doesn't want a loving wife and a son who looks up to him and the most lavish home wealth can afford him and easy, comfortable days spent with friends and loved ones by his side. He doesn't want a happy ending.

But it's like Bulma warned him: Dragon Ball's queen bee is hard to resist.

Welcome back to Capsule Corp, Vegeta. We hardly even noticed you were gone. Honestly, Future Trunks deserves a lot of the credit for this; Watching him die at the Cell Games was what flipped the switch in Vegeta's head that he wants the family he and Bulma have spawned together.

Sure is a good thing we have Dragon Balls because this is a hell of a time to suddenly decide you love your son. But we see the consequences of that seven years later, since Vegeta moved back into Capsule Corp from... I don't know, wherever he went. They're gonna miss him at the next community poolside summer BBQ event for all tenants.

Part of what makes Vegeta and Bulma work, I think, is that they're on the same page about one crucial point. For Bulma, there is one person who will always take precedent in her life above all others. Romance comes and romance goes, but this is the relationship that matters most to her.

Especially when it comes to martial arts and fighting. Bulma doesn't know a lot about the subject, but she knows that Son Goku is her #1. She has no reservations about saying that to her lover's face either.

When fists start flying, Bulma knows who she's rooting for. If Goku's involved, then it's not her guy. That's. Just. Something that anyone who wants to be with her has to be willing to understand. The single most important relationship in Bulma's life will always be her friendship with Goku.

And the thing about Vegeta is... He kind of agrees? Like. See above, re: I wanted Babidi to destroy my feelings for Bulma so that I could become the warrior that can fight with you, Kakarot.

As much as Goku will always be Bulma's #1, he'll also always be Vegeta's #1. He even gets included into Vegeta's fond farewell to the family he loves.

Goku is basically the platonic third in a two-person polycule. This is the second marriage that this poor ace plays a vital role in despite having no real interest in romance whatsoever.

Bulma is selfish, spiteful, petty, and vain. At one point, DBS: Broly directly compares her to Frieza; A comparison that manages to be unbelievably unflattering to both participants.

They're the same picture. A revelation that would probably be horrifying to both.

And Vegeta. Especially Vegeta. But. Like. She warned you she was irresistible. You didn't take her seriously and now look where you are. Married to the She-Frieza. Maybe you should think about your life choices.

This is just. So much fun. As I said at the outset, Bulma and Vegeta are a match made in Hell who make it work because they're both similar brands of awful.

As for Yamcha, it's a little known fact but Yamcha rebounded and moved on with his life. He stops having much story relevancy after he leaves Capsule Corporation so we see very little of his private life from there. After retiring from martial arts and splitting up with Bulma, Yamcha's left without any story hooks to keep him involved.

But there was this interesting moment, when he realized they had a Shenron wish to spare.

After Krillin comes up with something better to use the wish on, he takes it back and claims it was a joke.

This is, surprisingly, a point of contention in the fandom as some of Yamcha's fans prefer the idea that he died miserable and alone after Bulma ruined his life by leaving him. This takeback gets pointed to as proof that he made up his girlfriend entirely. However, in context, it's clear that a) he's trying to brush off his earlier attempt at making a petty wish and b) the thing he's transparently pretending was a joke is the necklace wish, not the existence of his new girlfriend.

Like Bulma, Yamcha moved on with his life after the break up of their miserable relationship. And that was the final word that was ever uttered on Yamcha's romantic prospects, because this was the last time he was ever meaningfully involved with anything at all.

[southparktexts]

hi bby! saw ur reqs are open and ur inbox in empty!! so lemme get main three with a makeup gf who wants to do their makeup/skincare :3

AAAA OMG ITS BAE !!! HII BABE ABSOLUTELY YOU ANGEL !!

Doing Makeup on the Main 3

stan;

- okay, you know that episode where stan has a band and he plays a song abt him hating living on a farm?

- if you get it you get it

- you unironically already do his makeup for him

- but not full face though

- you help him with eyeliner on his under eyes

- i can see you bringing up the subject

- one day you were hanging in your room

- stan resting his head on your lap as you play with his hair silently

- eventually you got bored.

“stannnn can i do your makeup?”

“..why? im not performing anytime soon.”

“please..?”

“..fine”

- okay some headcannons time

- you do his makeup on his lap

- you’re doing concealer and he’s rambling to you about a fight with his dad.

- actually kinda stress relieving to him.

- i can see him as a cautious boyfriend when you do his foundation.

“ah- not the eyes..”

“careful.. the beanie..”

- also will slightly regret it..

“this is so gay.. you’re lucky i love you.”

- he doesn’t want to admit that he loves it.

- after you’ve cooked you show him and he gives you a ‘good job’ nod and kisses your forehead.

“..okay get this off me.”

kyle ;

- hear me out, kyles always had a fascination with makeup.

- i can see kyle watching his mom do her makeup and just being so interested.

- naturally, he was curious to see what he would look like with makeup.

- one day he was over at your house, you guys had a date planned in a few hours and you were doing your makeup

- kyle being kyle he watched, noticing how you grew more and more frustrated with your eyeliner.

- wiping it off with a q-tip aggressively.

- he continued watching as he thought to himself

- ‘if only she had someone to practice on..”

- he turned out to be the perfect person.

- he wrapped his arms around you and kissed your cheeks.

“do you wanna practice on me, love?”

“wait.. really?”

- the way your eyes light up, it made him want to ask that question all the time just to see your reaction again and again.

- while you’re doing his makeup he’ll ask you questions.

“soo is this.. blush..?”

“no baby this is concealer”

“oh.. what does that do?”

- he actually was interested and learnt a lot from you

“so now we’re going to use some setting spray.”

“oh i think my mom uses that!”

- off topic but he definitely remembers your shade and buys you makeup pallets and new products.

kenny;

- okay. okay. LET ME COOK.

- so as a juggalo myself, juggalos have events called ‘gathering of the juggalos’

- kenny and you were conveniently going to this event.

- as an icp fan its important to have the iconic black and white clown makeup!

- although you and your boyfriend were over at your house getting ready.

- when you saw kenny using bad drugstore makeup to do his clown face.

“uh.. ken?”

“yea hun?”

“do you want me to do that for you?”

“sure darl’”

- you had to scrub that shit off his face but it was so worth it.

- in the middle of you doing the white foundation you had just done prior on his face he’ll lean in a kiss you

“kennn!! no kisses”

“sorry doll, can’t help it.”

- the most laidback of all the boys

- will randomly kiss you all over

- but he doesn’t stay still when you’re doing the clown features in black.

- after your done cooking, you show him in the mirror.

- he does some silly poses, making you laugh and kisses your forehead.

“i love it my little juggalette”

“i love you to my juggalo”

reqs are open !! also i cooked wtf??

[multi-fandom-lunatic]

ITS TIME GUYS KEEFITZ HEADCANONS LESGO

Keefe has. the most annoying nicknames for fitz. "fitzy poo" is his fave to use in front of friends but the real embarassing ones are alone. fitz totally wants to come up with his own but it never hits as hard as keefe.

Keefe is totally the more flexible in his style. dresses. big jackets. fake tattoos. keefe will do anything to look as cool as possible.

Fitz has this rockstar kinda style. he has his signature leather jacker and he added safety pins on the back to make it look like a butterfly (does that even make sense what is my english-)

Keefe and fitz 100% trade pride pins like pokemon cards. fitz totally has the bigger collection to keefes annoyance. like bro could probably open a shop and its just pins.

Everyone think fitz is a maths nerd but he's actually an english nerd. also, people think that fitz vacker loves the classics but no, he loves the darkest fantasy and horror and mystery and thriller but also romcoms (esp the queer ones)

keefe is suchh a biology nerd. he's got photographic memory ofc he would be killer in that.

keefitz totally have skincare and haircare nights together. slumber parties (weekly at least btw) and they experiment with all these different elixers.

when fitz was in the forbidden cities, he sampled many human haircare/skincare products andlikes some of them. every so often he brings some to the lost cities to use regularly.

he introduces some to keefe, who is totally freaked out by the diea of using human stuff, since elven stuff has always been superior (to their knowledge)

the only time keefe likes to use human stuff is when he applies makeup to fitz's face (foundation, contour, etc) full glam look. and keefe tells him he looks like a pretty princess.

fitz is a baker and keefe is the cook. no questions.

fitz totally only wears stuff thats teal until once keefe bought him bright pink pjs with light blue banshees all over it and fitz wears it to sleep as much as possible

keefe 100% conspired with elwin to give fitz mr. snuggles. keefe meant it as a joke, so when he finds out about mr. snuggles keefe completely loses it.

keefe and fitz are cat people. they love butler and butler loves them. they both make sure that butler is never hungry and manage to buy lil cat sweaters. bultler might not live in everglen but he is always in designer *swishes hair*

keefe is taller so fitz loves stealing his clothes and wearing them as oversized meanwhile fitz's clothes are soo tight on keefe and fitz is constantly gay panicking because of it (keefe knows and loves this)

fitz is actually the one who hogs the blanket, but its okay because keefe could basically survive in the arctic. (adults btw)

they have a big bed but totally cuddle on one side of it (adults btw)

alden never questions why keefe is always over at everglen. the lost cities never have queer stuff so they never even suspect it. which is great for them because they can cuddle in peace.

keefe loves hugging fitz from behind and fitz loves peppering keefes face and hair with kisses (keefe whines about the latter but allows it)

aight im fresh out. would be illegal not to tag @thesfromhms

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

BABES THIS ISN'T A REQUEST BECAUSE I SAW THEY'RE CLOSED BUT BUT BUT i'm still thinking of your friends with benefits Tan post from a little bit back and ahhhhhhhh i need more! anything you have 😫😫

(obviously no pressure my love)

like why does it work SO well with him? like he's you friend/coworker and you get along sooo well but then on the side you're fucking like rabbits?! yum!!

he'd 100% be the first to catch feelings and then be in complete denial and probably mess things up in the process until he finally gains some brain cells and fesses up 😌

the experimenting you could do with the sex bc you aren't "technically" dating so it isn't really as weird to bring up any kinks. Dbsjbffnnd

my brain is mush rn fr.

that is all, ily 💕 xoxo

YOU AND YOUR WONDERFUL BRAIN OMG! ily and hope you’re well💓 no idea if any of this makes sense

FWB WITH TANGERINE.

so here for it. friends in public and bumping butts in private. you know that sound “everyone knows that he fucks you” that’s just ringing in my ears rn. you think no one knows, but those looks and glances aren’t fooling ANYONE! and bc you’re friends and you understand each other the sex is so good and there’s no other feelings and complications involved… WRONG. it’s bound to happen

I do also think he’s first to catch feelings. I do believe that all relationships in the past were strictly physical and there were no other feelings involved (tho i do hc him to have one very serious relationship in his twenties and that wrecked him when that ended. she was his first proper love but we’re not talking about her) so like his feelings for you kinda blur and merge bc they’re so different to just lust and sex. so he has the foundations of friendship and common ground with you already, and then add something physical and then boom. he’s confused and he’s in love bc he can’t separate those feelings (me too man, me too)

sounds so mean, but he’s a screw up??? like he runs away when things are complicated or hard and it always makes things worse. like he pushes people away, lies, AND in major MAJOR denial!! and then bc it’s so good in fiction, the fwb stops bc it’s created a clusterfuck of a situation and you both like each other but don’t do anything about it

OMG THE EXPERIMENTING BIT!!!?!?!!?!!?!? YES!! and you’re trying new things and seeing what you do and don’t like. and then bc you’re really good friends you mention a jokey kink you want to try (its a lie but you’re being serious when you say it) and he immediately knows you’re bluffing bc you’d never do that. I imagine a “fuck off, you’d hate that” and a laugh bc you’re so full of shit. and you’re like “no? ive always wanted to try it” and mention how never felt comfortable with partners in past to do it. but he still doesn’t buy it. BUT bc he’s a shit, he lets it go and says “okay” and that he’s ready to try it out rn

he’s waiting for you to surrender and you’re like “shit” bc he seems ready to try it. but all just some fun harmless mind games. ALSO would be a huge non-judgement zone and i love it

[twstfanblog]

I don't have a specific request per say but! I would love to hear more about Riddle and Floyd in the brothel au. Maybe how riddle and Floyd caught feelings and developed a relationship? They're my absolute fav ship! 😁💚

The Brothel AU is always so fun to look at.

But to start, Riddle came to the brothel seeking asylum from his mother. From there was a pretty lackluster common employee with cleaning and helping Trey in the kitchen.

Floyd and Jade visit the hotel since their mother was a past entertainer and a good friend of Crewel's.

Floyd saw a glimpse of Riddle from down the hall and he's been interested ever since. Hair as bold red as Riddle's is pretty rare in the city, so he's easy to spot in the busy hours. Floyd couldn't manage to get Riddle one on one to talk so he asked Crewel if Riddle was an entertainer. If so, he wants to buy him for the night.

Crewel, loving money and being able to afford luxury, then tells Riddle he has two choices. Since he's kinda shit at doing common work, he can either leave the brothel OR become an entertainer for a VIP. Riddle didn't really have much of a choice.

And while the first time was lowkey traumatizing, Riddle starts to find the joy in outsmarting Floyd during their chases. The more comfortable Riddle got the sassier he got and Floyd just became more and more interested in him. It also helps that Floyd doesn't treat Riddle like a fragile china doll like his mother did. (Floyd bites and bruises that boy the fuck up.)

It's a cycle of cute little moments that just become the building blocks of their marriage's foundation. So when Riddle does turn up pregnant, Floyd's only response was to ask if he still wants a spring wedding.

[mikalame]

I was wondering if you could do a bill kaulitz dating hc with a mcbling reader,thanks :3

Bill dating Mcbling reader hope you like these hc i personally LOVE mcbling style.

Request are open

taglist:@oppopotamus@violentnewmarley@saumspam@adissonsss

. The first thing he probably noticed was the florescent pink that you always wear along with your sparkly necklaces and earrings that shine bright with the lights of the club your two met in.

. other thing he saw was the orange tan your have ( gotta keep it true to the culture) did think it was tacky but everything back then was.

. Once you two finally started dating the places you two would go for dates would be the mall where you two could shop and look at all the clothes and make up you could

.if he sees some thing in a store that you would like he would call you and even if you wont want them right now he KNOWS that you would want them in the future but things like jeans and top he would get right away.

.loves looking at you while you do your makeup he thinks there is something just so raw about the way to slap on the orange foundation and line your eyes so roughly that its kinda scary.

if you have like a little dog and you put cute little bows and outfits bill would be buying all the cute little dog outfits he sees like bees, flowers you name it he has it.

shopping with the two of you would be absolute madness as both of you have so many bags and your running around the mall quickly turning when you see some thing bill or you would like

On the days where you are just chilling at home is probably one of the times bill sees all the beauty you have cause your bare faced and just enjoying being around him and that gives bill and nice warm fuzzy feeling.

Ive got to say it but with all the tight jeans/ top you wear bill has a bit of a habit just to stare at them and if you pull down your crop top and show of the tops of your bra hes dead, hes pulling your shirt p to try and cover them as he dont want no one looking at whats his.

he does love going bra shopping with you hes holding all the leopard/ zebra print you can find in that store then holding the next lot from the other store you do try ad pay but bill just so existed to see you wear them that he just moves you out the way

when you get new jewellery for your piercings like playboy bunny ect you always get him a matching one so if you have your tongue done he'll have a matching tongue jewellery with you.

you two are constantly at the pools or beach as you want a tan and bill just follows you like a little puppy dog. when you start to sun bathe he remembers that you didnt pull and sunscreen on and gets so upset even if you lie to him and say you did

he is SLATHERING you in that sunscreen and ignores you protests just muttering things like 'you will thank me when your in your 60's' talking about how its gonna save your life.

if you two go to some event and you still wanna have your style you will be anything leopard print like jacket or scarf you heels anything bill will make it happen

You two have nights wear you wear each others styles and go full out like hair is done so you have spikes and bills got that fringe comb-over makeup is on point you look like you slap black eyeliner on your eyes and bill looks like a dico-ball and outfit are so great and you to are decked in the most accessory ever

[breeyn]

Canada Post is on strike as of today, which means I lose the way I pay for my life during the time of year small artists might actually make money. On the surface, this is a dispute between the union wanting a cost of living wage and Canada Post desperately trying to keep their costs down so people will still use them.

Thing is, I don't have a lot of choice. I have to use them.

The real issue here is Amazon. This is Jeff Bezos' fault at the foundation, but also, kinda everyone's fault. I know, I know, we're reliant on Amazon for a lot of things because we're all so fucking broke because Bezos has all of the money. But just like economists predicted, the Amazon model sets expectations.

I am a small artist. I make everything with my own two hands - even my prints. Every single part of what I do is done by me. And I get yelled at quite a bit for things taking long or items getting lost or shipping costing too much. When you demand money back on Etsy, the artist pays for it, not Etsy. And in my case, I've already honoured my side of the deal - making and shipping the item. But I'm at fault if stuff gets lost, even if I did everything perfectly. And a lot of tiny artists like me hide the real shipping costs. If you think the shipping rate on stuff seems decent, I guarantee you it's cuz the artist is paying for half of it, they just hide it in the price of the item because we know high shipping prices make people not buy our stuff.

We aren't Amazon. We're not fulfillment centres. We don't have our own trucks taking everything everywhere. I'm carefully sourcing, creating, and packing stuff by myself, usually walking it to the post office.

Buy local, but also, buy small. I mean, you can't buy anything to be shipped in Canada right now, but if and when we get our service back, please support small artists. You're literally giving us money to live, and to keep making new things. This is going to make Christmas really, really shitty for a lot of people, myself included, and this year was already pretty shitty.

Also, I love you, so many of you *have* supported me, and it means the world 🖤 Thank you

[jacesbizarre]

𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 (𝐠𝐨𝐭𝐡 𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧) - 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐧𝐚𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞

content: fluff, they're also very sweet

warnings: them giving their number to reader, jeongin’s doesn’t really mention your style but he did supply your combat boot addiction

𝐡𝐚𝐧:

•lee know and felix are at an amusement park for lee knows vlog. they stopped recording so they could go in line for a ride and he looked up and saw you. you were by yourself and you looked a little anxious. "are you just gonna look at her or are you gonna move up on line jisung" minho said quietly to him. "sorry" he mumbled while moving up.

you finally looked back and he saw your makeup. his eyes widened when he saw it. you white base, black contour, and heavy eye makeup. you noticed him and immediately turned around getting scared he was judging you. he walked over to you tapping on your shoulder. "your makeup is so cool, do you do it on your own" he asked you smiling wide. "yeah i do, thank you" you said looking at him. "can i have your number" he asked again getting his phone out. you just took it, put your number in it, and walked off. minho was just laughing at him from afar.

𝐟𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐱:

•they had just gotten to chicago for lollapalooza and they were walking around visiting everywhere. they found a really pretty book shop, so they decided to stop in. they all split up once they went in to look at whatever. felix walked away from changbin to go look at some fantasy books, he always found them interesting. right as he got there he saw you already there picking stuff out. he then saw your makeup and hair. your hair was in two spikey buns while your makeup was heavy with white foundation and black and green eye makeup.

• he walked over still just a little hesitant he didn’t want to disrupt you. you stopped once you saw him and apologized for being in the way. “no no you’re fine you were here first anyways” he laugh slightly while saying it. you finally looked at his face and stepped back a bit more “you’re pretty” you say quietly. he smiles at you “thank you, you’re gorgeous, i love your makeup i rarely see it honestly”. he responds back. “can i have your number ?” you say grabbing your phone. by the end of their book store trip he has your number and a big smile on his face.

𝐬𝐞𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐦𝐢𝐧:

•you were just walking down the street because you had gotten out of your college classes. someone had walked by you and they were looking at you a lot. usually you would just ignore them because they would give you a judging look. but this time they gave you this fascinated look. you fully looked at him and god was he pretty. “i love your style” the man says to you. “thank you, you’re handsome yourself” you say happily. “what’s your name ?” you say again questioningly. “my name is seungmin, yours ?” he answers. “my name is y/n”.

•you guys walk and talk for a bit about what you do, how you guys are, and about how you guys got your style. “well i gotta get home now, i loved talking to you” you said kinda sadly. “i mean we could exchange numbers” he said back smiling at you. you hand him your phone and he puts his number in. you text it to make sure it’s right. when he got the message you bid your farewells. you went home and texted him all night super happy someone actually appreciates your style.

𝐣𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐧:

•he had gone to the thrift store because he finally had a day off and wanted to see if there was anything new there. he found some cool stuff but he just wanted to see if anything else there was interesting. he went into the shoe section and saw you looking at a pair of doc martins. “they’re still so expensive i guess i have to wait again” you said to yourself. he hesitantly went up behind you and grabbed them. you looked up at him kinda confused.

•”i can buy these for you, i heard what you said a second ago”. he waits for you response to that looking at you. “i mean you don’t know me that well so why would you get them for me?” you answered back immediately. “it seems like you’ve been wanting them for a while, i’ll get them”. he starts walking off, you immediately follow. he buys his stuff, then gets your separately. he hands you the shoes and the receipt after writing something on it. he walks off after, and you look at it seeing his number on it. you smile texting him thank you.

authors note:

here it is finally i missed writing i just couldn’t get the motivation at least i got it now thank you all for waiting i hope you enjoy

[playboifenty]

╰┈➤*.⋆🎬 ❝ 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒖 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒅?

🩷 • 𝐁𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐅𝐚𝐢𝐲𝐚𝐳 x 𝐅𝐞𝐦!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 headcanons!

SPOTIFY • YOUTUBE MUSIC • TAGLIST • INFO

📃. 〄 . ᗢ . ?

🎧 ⋆ NOW PLAYING: WHAT YOU HEARD ━ SONDER. 🎶

―🌟TAGS ! fluff, angst, toxicity, hurt/comfort ish. 🎞 SUMMARY: ❛ fuck yo mind up, waste time. ❜ high hopes, unrealistic dreams, empty promises, and bottles of expensive ass champagne is the foundation of the relationship between the two. ⋆ ★ w/c: 1.1k . . . . . ☢ content warnings: a lilllll teeny tiny bit (a lot a bit) of toxicity... (its brent idk what you expected), comfort if you squint n bend your morals a bit, suggestive-ish themes, brent is a lil sassy cause why tf not, use of the n word, and ermm..lmk if i missed anything else!! ― 🔖 one , two .

ʚ 𝐫𝐞𝐧'𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐫 ! 👁️‍🗨️

omg, omg, omg, hiii!!!! this is like..my first fic on tumblr and my first piece of writing in a whileee, but i wanted to write something cause i kinda sorta have nothing on my account 😭. and this fic lowkey has like a toxic relationship in mind for their relationship but its not overly toxic. (i understand the whole media for impressionable audiences thing but just scroll past it if you not fw it, relaxxx.) so this is just a lil sumn for and to get the hang of things, so let me know if you like it!! feedback is definitely appreciated, but not harsh feedback cause im lowkey sensitive 🥲. i also do not condone, romanticize, or encourage toxic, abusive, or unhealthy relationships!! this is purely just a work of fiction. enjoy!

© don't steal my shit gang. kinda proofread, will be edited.

It started off with a few stolen glances and a sudden gift disguised as a piece of chocolate cake arriving at your table… 

“Courtesy of the table across from you.”  

And it’s been history ever since. 

“I know you seen me looking at you, you know how to grab a nigga’s attention fasho.”

“Mhm, you know you playing wit’ fire right?”

“Fire aint nothing forreal if you know how to handle it.” 

He was always finding some way to make you fold and he knew exactly what he was doing too. Stringing you on with quick but sensual kisses, “I gotchu, jus’ be patient.” licking his lips whenever the energy of his heated stares was matched by you, his hands rhythmically rubbing up and down your thighs, his eyes always being locked on you whenever you spoke. . .There was no way in hell you were going to make it out unscathed. 

Quick and flirty banter is definitely a pillar in you guy’s relationship, feeling comfortable enough to go back and forth with each other.

“Don’t miss me too much! i’ll see you soon, baby.”

“Dont miss you too much? I’ll be missing you the whole week, ma.” 

He loved buying you bracelets and necklaces with his or your name engraved on them, cute lil’ bags he be seeing you eyeing whenever you walk through Chanel, giving you personalized free VIP access to his shows, shit...sending drivers to pick you up and bring you to said shows. And he always made sure you ate and did whatever you needed to do.

“You eat? Nah fuck that, you hungry?” 

“...Maybe.”

“...Don’t play with me, y/n.”

Brent is definitely a sweet-heart in the beginning, well...in his own little way. He’s a romantic but not hopeless. He knew how to show you he cared while also not overplaying his part and things would definitely need time to build up into an actual relationship too. You weren’t stupid, you knew that even though you knew him on a deeper level than all the fame and even as far as to say you knew him as Christopher, he’s still gonna Brent Faiyaz at the end of the day. There were still going to be precautions, external problems, internal problems, and then internal problems egged on by the external ones; loving him was going to be anything but easy. But your connection started to change in different ways too, the relationship would start off with lots of excitement and rose-tinted lenses until feelings started growing and shit got serious; you was thinking it was going to give Jackie Brown and a dash of search & rescue baby...but in reality, it's giving what you heard and session 32 😭. (coughs in this nigga has avoidant attachment issues) 

As soon as he realized what you two had going on was developing into something deeper, he started getting distant. Missing calls, ignoring texts, even coming up with half-assed excuses for missed dates and blowing you off. 

“My bad, I had a lot of shit going on.” 

“I was in the studio, you know how it be, y/n.”

 “I got too caught up in London, that shit was crazy.” 

“You think i could call you back though?” 

And soon the arguments came and you two started staying mad at each other for days on end, not even bothering to try and smooth things over like in the beginning of the relationship. It was hard and it gave you a lot of anxiety. You wouldn't say that you felt unsafe perse, but you definitely didn't feel comfortable. “You mean to tell me that you can't answer the fucking phone for three seconds, Chris??” You shouted, frustration built up in your voice and it was obvious that you were fed the fuck up. It didn't help that the man sitting in front of you was quick to roll his eyes and smack his teeth, but what definitely didn't help was his smart-ass mouth. “Ain't nobody tell you to hit my jack and start losing yo shit, y/n. That's the shit that be blowing me.” 

“I don’t hear from you for days and you expect me to not get worried? You’re mad at me for giving a fuck about you??”

“Whatever, man.”

The whole thing would just progressively get worse as you two went back and forth. you saying petty shit while he just dismissed your feelings until he decided that he would just tell you shit you wanted to hear so the situation would be deaded.

 “I’m sorry, y/n...” he’d say soothingly in your ear, massaging your hips in circular motions as you’d lay your head on top of his chest, close to where his heart beats. “You know I be missing you like crazy. you can't stay mad at me for too long, baby.” and he was right. This routine repeated and repeated itself over and over again until he stopped ‘comforting’ you and just seemingly stopped caring altogether. 

“Nah bro, you tweakin’.” 

“Okay, y/n. stop calling my phone then, problem solved.”

“And you swear you don’t see how your point doesn’t make sense?”

“You got it, y/n.”

With time, you two just broke away from each other, but never ended things officially. It went from short brief phone calls to text messages and eventually, those stopped too. A hole was left in your chest and you couldn’t help but feel as if you wasted your time, continuously punishing yourself because you gave out a part of yourself you won't get back ━ but you couldn’t help but miss him. You’d find yourself compensating for his absence, making two plates of everything, migrating to his unspoken side of the bed, never taking the flowers he got you out of the vase you put them in; even though they long withered away. “I can't believe this nigga got me out here wasting food, groceries are expensive...Eggs are almost four fucking dollars! I can't do this shit, I need to get a grip and be fucking forreal.” 

But let's not pretend he didn’t find himself trying to make sense of your absence, too. 

⋆ ⤏ FINAL WORDS ! 📢 honestly this doesn't feel like it's 1k+ words but it is 😭. i'm so tired chile and i start school in 4 hours. i'm actually content with how this came out, fw it!!

PART TWO COMING SOON.

📸 TAGS !

[yawujin]

Eeeeee— I just found this account not so long ago but I want to request some YTTD hcs of Kai, Alice and Reko with gn!reader who is a make up artist? :oo (I want to specify that I kinda want platonic for Reko but Kai and Alice would be romantic if that’s fine for you :3. No pressure ofc!)

Thank you in advance btw! Take care ^^!!

(I don’t usually use tumblr so I don’t know if I used the right box to request ueuueiejeu 😭)

hey thank you!! and thanks for the request <3

request | kai, alice, and reko x makeup artist! reader

type | romantic relationships, platonic relationship, no death game, light hearted, short read, gender neutral reader

kai satou ♡

when you tell kai that you are a makeup artist, he becomes curious

he tells you that the way he thinks about it is like painting, the only difference being that your "canvas" is a face

when you do an especially colorful makeup look on yourself and show him he's quite impressed with your skill

"you look very nice." he looks over your face, examining all the fine, detailed work

you offer to do his makeup, and he accepts

kai gets shy when you get really close to his face whilst doing his eyeshadow, contour, eyeliner, etc.

alice yabusame ♡

he finds it so cool that you can do makeup

if you want to try out a new editorial look on someone, alice is your guy

"there ought to be blue foundation, you know, just for fun" he says while you two walk down the aisle at a beauty supply store

usually asks for you to do graphic eyeliner looks on him

when he gets really happy and wants to hug you, he always has to find an angle in which your face won't be smushed against him and your makeup won't get smudged

kinda likes it when you leave lipstick marks on him

reko yabusame ♡

she also finds it really amazing that you can do makeup

when she wants to spice up her usual makeup, she goes to you for ideas

loves it when you wear alt makeup because you guys match 👯‍♀️

if you ever forget to buy black eyeshadow or lipstick have no fear because she is always willing to lend hers to you

compliments your skills 24/7

[cult-of-the-eye]

tma makeup headcanons:

Jonathan "serving cunt" Sims:

S1 Jon doesn't know what makeup is (he absolutely wore eyeliner every single day at uni but he's not letting everyone else know that)

He like spot conceals but that's about all he feels comfortable getting away with while maintaining his air of professionalism

He also despises the feeling of foundation on his face

S2 Jon is barefaced as the day he was born. My man's last priority is how he looks, he's too busy buying axes in central London and stalking his coworkers

S3 Jon has none of his makeup with him but he's got loads of spare time and Georgie has a whole drawer so he experiments a little bit, he goes for Kajal (black pencil eyeliner lining the inside of your eyes) instead of his previous winged eyeliner but he hesitates at the any colour because she managed to pull it off but he's never been one for drawing attention to himself like that but one day he goes for a burgundy or like dark purplish red colour and he's quite pleased with himself

I feel like Jon would go for a natural kind of look, with concealer and a skin tint at best, some dark brown eye shadow to deepen his hooded eyes and kajal

Martin Kslaying Blackwood:

Ugh I love this man so much

I'm literally such a fan of trans Martin it's pretty much canon to me so I'm headcanoning that he's very hesitant about makeup cause he was a late transitioner and had only just gotten used to passing recently so he doesn't want to do anything to risk that

But he's such a slut for a nice little blush or like a subtle lip tint

He goes for powder blushes cause liquid ones feel sticky on his face and also powder blushes just Look Nice

He also likes lip tints cause he's constantly rubbing off lip products, with the multiple mugs of tea a day and it's getting awkward handing Jon mugs of tea with faint lipstick stains on them

He keeps an emergency kit in his bag with like some eyeshadow if he needs to darken his facial hair and on a whim he puts a baby pink powder blush in there and a matching lip tint

So it's not like he decided to bring it to the safehouse, it was just sort of there

Jon finds it and he's like let's go, we're going down to the shops and buying some, we're gonna do some experimenting and Martin's like oh!!

When he was working for Peter Lukas, he was also barefaced, he didn't want to give him the satisfaction of thinking he put effort in

Timothy "Take notes" Stoker:

This man is such a fun makeup guy

He's a random dots around his eyes, shimmery colourful inner corner, new colour every day, just drawing shit around his eyes kinda man

He's a no foundation no concealer kinda guy as well I think

ugh just can you imagine??? They have a little tally of what colours/patterns Tim's using today and somehow he never managed to repeat a look - it might be a repeated colour but the pattern or the way it's used it's always different

And then one day he just stops. He still wears makeup but the colours are more muted and they make his eyes look bruised in a very decisive way

It's almost as if he's spent ages on a look and then tried to scrub it all away

Sashay Away James

She's such a glamorous girly I feel like she really enjoys the process of makeup more than actually changing the way she looks

I'd love her to be doing the whole shebang, spending hours picking the right primer and stuff like that

She goes for the yeah I'm wearing makeup and I'm slaying look

I feel like she's so good at a little nose highlight

Can you imagine every day Tim greeting Sasha every morning with like a love the highlight girl and it makes her happy every single time

Oh she's such a fake freckles girly absolutely

Hated false eyelashes cause they feel weird

Not Sasha believes makeup is pushing feminism backwards