#warnign for egregiously bad makeup skills otherwise known as me projecting on george

[dwtdog]

fem dnf week day 3 :P

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“Hey Dream,” George says out of the blue, leaning forward from where she’d been relaxing against the couch cushions, phone held lazily above her face. Dream’s head is in her lap, her eyes fluttering slowly open when George calls her name. “Oh shit, were you asleep?”

Dream yawns, lips stretching over her oddly sharp canines, before answering. “Mm- no. Was just resting.”

“That’s good,” George smiles down at her, tracing a finger along her hairline. Dream looks to be on the verge of actually falling asleep, and George has half a mind to let her- her girlfriend is always working too hard, rarely giving herself moments to rest. But out of the corner of her eye, George sees the TikTok that had inspired her original thought still playing on loop, and it gives her the conviction to ask. “Do you want to do something?”

“Like what?” Dream asks, tilting her head back against George’s leg to chase after her fingers as they hover just over her. George obligingly pets through her hair, careful not to tug too hard on messy curls. 

“Like you let me do your makeup,” George says, shutting her phone off with a little click. “And you can’t give me any advice.”

That gets a small smile out of Dream. “You just want an excuse to touch my face,” she says accusingly. 

George pokes her eyebrow. “What, like I have been for the past few minutes?”

“Exactly,” Dream giggles. “I think you like me. Maybe you even have a crush on me.”

“Well you’re the freak who let’s me touch her face even if you’ll complain about breaking out. You’re obsessed with me,” George pokes her cheek this time. 

“What, you want me to stop?” Dream pouts, lips comically turned to a frown. “I think you don’t.”

“I plead the fifth.”

“You’re British, you can’t,” 

George huffs. “Fine, whatever. I hate you, and I’m leaving you here. No more pillow. I’ll steal your makeup and use it on myself.”

“Now that I’d like to see,” Dream says, sitting up and freeing George’s legs. “But fine. You do my makeup, no help whatsoever. But you have to let me try your guitar.”

George groans. “Ugh, fine. I guess that’s fair. But if you break it you’re buying me a new one. A better one.”

“What, that’s no fair,” Dream says. “I’m letting you use all my fancy shit with no guarantees.”

“You sound like an advert.”

“You started it!” George shoots back, earning a confused look for Dream as she, as a matter of fact, had not started it. “Whatever, come on. Or I’m going to eat the fancy lipstick you’re always talking about.”

Dream stands quickly, eyes darting between the door to her room and George, who follows suit and stands as well. They’re close, George having stood almost directly into Dream’s chest, which makes both of them blush. 

In a rather devious move, George darts forward, standing on her toes to place a quick kiss on Dream’s cheek, before turning and running for the bedroom door. Dream takes a moment to chase after her, the kiss a suitable distraction, and George gleefully pulls the door open, heading straight for the vanity, and all of Dream’s normally off-limits makeup.

It’s a rarity in their relationship, for anything to be unshared. But Dream is very particular about her makeup, because it’s a collection she’d curated for years- one of the few things she ever let herself spend large amounts of money on. She’d been shy the first time she’d told George about it, as if expecting her to judge the expansive collection. 

But George had been in awe, completely enamored with her girlfriend’s technical skill at the craft, and how cute she got when she talked about things she was passionate about.

Dream had done George’s makeup a million times before- George didn’t like the feel of it all that much, a bit of a sensory nightmare for her, but she enjoyed Dream’s hands and her gentle touch, so she endured. They’d found a fix eventually, something that had started as a joke- Dream would use clean, dry brushes on George, explaining the colors and products she’d use if she really were doing her makeup.

It’s the only basis of knowledge George has for her current endeavor, but she’s hopeful that her determination will make up for her lack of knowledge.

She’s really not even that sure why she’s so driven to do it all of a sudden. The TikTok had been cute, sure, small touches between a couple who seemed absolutely enamored with each other. It was something about the way they’d looked at each other that had made George misty eyed and wanting, and Dream had been right there.

So here she is, in front of the huge mirror that hangs over the equally ludicrous vanity, covered in all sorts of products. She’s already lost, in tubes and brushes that seem indistinguishable from each other.

Dream appears behind her, arms wrapping around her waist- a common position for them. She rests her head on George’s shoulder, swaying them slightly as they look, together, at the display before them.

It takes George’s breath away, to see them pressed together like this. She likes the way Dream’s hands look hooked in front of her stomach, the way their hair brushes in a mix of dark and light. 

But she has a mission. 

“Sit,” she commands, stepping away. Dream whines, but she goes to pull the chair from the desk, spinning it around to sit and still be able to face George. “Good job,” George adds cheekily, nudging Dream’s knee with her own as she approaches the desk, eyes scanning for a place to start. 

She can feel the way Dream is itching to give her advice with the way she shifts in the chair, socked feet pulling her closer to the desk. George grabs a tube of lipstick.

In the mirror, she sees Dream bite her lip, eyes flicking between the lipstick in George’s hand and her face in the reflection. 

George, not one to be stopped by judgemental girlfriends, pops the top off the tube and twists it up, turning to face Dream with her eyes squinted in concentration. 

“Do this,” she demands, pursing her lips like a fish. Dream takes a moment to comply, making a few more pointed glances between the lipstick and some other, nondescript tube that George had written off as irrelevant, before finally copying George. 

George is careful as she smudges the lipstick along Dream’s lips, wary of damaging it for all her teasing. It hardly seems to work, coming out in patchy bits. She frowns, but keeps trying. She can see Dream already trying not to laugh, her shoulders shaking lightly with it. 

When the lipstick ends up on Dream’s skin, just above her top lip, it’s both their faults. George pulls back, frowning at Dream. Dream just blinks up at her innocently. “What? Did you do it?”

“I did- something,” George says, rubbing at the mess with her thumb. It works, surprisingly, and she sets the lipstick down to peruse her other options. “This is harder than I thought it would be,” she announces after a moment, turning to glare at Dream like its her fault George had gotten the idea in her head.

That softens Dream’s expression. “Yeah, it can be a lot at first. Look- do you want me to show you?” Her voice gets all shy, like it did the first time she’d talked about this with George. 

George melts. “Please,” she says, setting down the palette she’d picked up. “Just- walk me through the eye makeup. I always like it when you do it.”

“Okay,” Dream says, beaming. “It’s kind of tricky, but you have a steady hand which is half the battle.”

Nodding, George picks up a different palette, this one all shades of blue. They seem to glow in the light of the room. 

“That’s the palette I used for our first date,” Dream says. “Since you said you were colorblind I figured it would look the best because- y’know.”

“Oh,” George says, breathless. “Can I use it, then? On you?”

“Of course,” Dream scoots closer, until her knees are wrapped around George’s. “But you’ll want to do a primer first.”

She’s a good teacher, walking George through the process with methodical steps. She points out all the products, and explains what they do just like she does when she does George’s makeup, but it’s easier for George to remember when she’s the one using them, touching them, seeing the colors come to life with every touch. 

Her hands are steady, but she does mess up a few times. Dream only smiles, saying it’s a good chance to explain the best way to fix mistakes, and walks her through it. 

Finally, they get to the last step, which Dream says is the most important element.

“You’ve got to seal the deal,” she explains seriously, looking up at George through her lashes, now clumped with mascara. George hadn’t gotten that part quite right, too afraid to hurt Dream by hitting her in the eye. 

“Didn’t we already do the spray-thingy?” George asks, confused. Dream smirks.

“No, that’s not it,” she says. “It’s a special final step, for when you’re doing you’re girlfriends makeup. Super important.”

George wracks her brain, thinking back to the countless times she’d been on the opposite end of this treatment. The problem is, by the end of it she’s usually sleepy and love drunk, overwhelmed by all the small touches used to build the final look, or the pretend version of one. 

“I got nothing,” she admits at last, tapping her fingers against the wood of the vanity. 

Dream stands, and now it’s George’s turn to look up at her. “You seal it with a kiss, idiot,” she says, her tone not at all consistent with her words- honey sweet, dripping from messy red lips. 

George giggles, taking Dream’s hands in hers. She has to admit, the final look is passable, especially from this angle. 

Dream’s lips are warm against hers, the lipstick slightly sticky. George uses their joined hands to pull Dream closer until they’re pressed together, all hot bodies and muffled sighs as George demands more, pressing her lips harder against Dream’s, running her tongue over her lips. There’s a bit of a fascinating almost plastic taste, and George chases it.

When they break apart to breathe, George chokes back a laugh. If the lipstick had been messy before, it’s a downright tragedy now, 

But Dream is laughing too, her eyes fixed on George’s lips. George whirls to see her reflection in the mirror, groaning when she sees her reflection- an equally disastrous look, and she’d managed to get some of the stuff on her teeth.

“You can be in charge of makeup from now on,” Georeg declares, rubbing furiously at her face with the back of her hand. Dream stops her with gentle fingers on her wrist, shaking her head as she guides it away. 

“Thanks baby, and here I was thinking you’d be taking my job,” she teases. George drops her head against Dream’s shoulder, groaning. “But seriously,” Dream adds, bringing a hand up to rest on George’s head. “You weren’t so bad. Really! You have potential.”

George just shakes her head, the fabric of Dream’s shirt soft against her forehead. “You’re just saying that ‘cause you’re my girlfriend and you have to be nice to me.”

“If I had to be nice to you I’d let you win in Minecraft more,” Dream says in the same sweet voice, and George just sighs. She wouldn’t trade this idiot for the world.