#every time i have tried foundation it has looked cakey and weird & made my acne worse i do mascara/ lip balm /concealer for my worst spots

[gideonisms]

okay I CANNOT be silent about this any longer that blonde girl from ted lasso, the younger woman, NEEDS a better hair stylist. 6 months of sulfate free shampoo & silicone free conditioner + a braid or other protective style at night and a silk pillowcase would give her curls anyone would kill a man for yet they insist on leaving the roots frizzy while straightening the rest and bleaching it let her LIVE

[elliyoyo]

Pucker Up, Parker (Peter Parker/Reader)

A double update? In one weekend? Yes, this is really me, I’m okay, I’m just hyped to write about the actual loml after Infinity War. Again, just a reminder, this fic will have NO INFINITY WAR SPOILERS. I repeat THIS IS SPOILER FREE AND SAFE TO READ.

Warnings: Swearing, kind of a makeup tutorial in a fic, lots of description, cliche kind of kissing, blinding highlights, my own head canon for Peter’s skin type, and a make out session

Words: 1879 (I went overboard, I know, I’m not sorry)

“There’s no way I’m letting you touch me with any of that, (Y/N),” Peter says, his eyes suspiciously scanning over the many bottles and compacts of makeup now splayed across his bed. You pick up foundations and take his arm, wanting to start color matching him so you could be done with the look you were doing before Aunt May went to bed, which was lifetimes away, so you weren’t too worried about it. Even so, you told her to come check on the progress in about an hour, even though Peter kept protesting getting his makeup done in the first place.

He tries to pull his arm away, but before he can, you reassure him with, “It’s nothing bad. It’s gonna be like I’m painting on your arm, then when I find the right shade I start painting your face.”

You shoot him a smile and pump a little drop of your foundations out on his arm. The drugstore one you had run out and grabbed earlier today was the one that worked best, probably because you had a keen eye for shade matching and your foundation shades were bound to either not fit his complexion or skin type. So before you came over, you quizzed him and grabbed one you thought would be perfect.

“They look weird. Why are some all gel-ish and some are runny and some—”

“We just know that the different textures and different formulas have different results. I have no clue how they do it, that’s their secret.” You laugh and grab your primers before you put any foundation on him. “Alright, Peter, time to play 20 questions again.”

“What? I thought you already had a foundation for me?”

“I do, but I need to find out what I need for primer. They’re also specialized to skin type and all that. Plus, it’s fun because I get to learn about you.” You pick up the five different ones you had, all drug store, but differently colored and purposed.

“...Alright, then ask me the things,” he sighs, giving in, knowing that if he wanted to look like all the girls on instagram that everyone obsessed about (and get the $5 you promised him for being your personal barbie doll for the night), he had to just answer the questions and let it be over with.

“Do you have a problem with your pores or too much oil on your nose, forehead, or chin?”

“The pores on my nose kinda bug me sometimes. I heard that if you put an ice cube on there, it closes them up a little bit, so I do that every morning when I brush my teeth,” he admits, flushing slightly pink, thinking it was kind of a weird thing to do.

“Alright. Have you done anything else about it? Soaps, treatments, masks— any of that?”

“...” He is silent for a moment, flushing even more, before admitting even more. “I sneak some of Aunt May’s soap every once in awhile to clean the pores and when I have a few extra bucks, I’ll grab a pore tightening mask.”

“I never knew you were so into facial care. Now that I know your secrets, I may one day look as perfect as you,” you joke, but you’re secretly serious. You would do anything to have his perfectly smooth, acne-free skin, even though it’s marred by cuts or bruises sometimes from some of the fights he’ll tell you about now and then. “So you take extremely good care of yourself and are conscious of pores. Any of the oiliness or no?”

“Not unless I’m doing a little workout or in gym class, no.” You nod, putting the mattifying and redness-cancelling primers aside.

“Are you looking for a big glow or a more natural look?”

“I guess natural. I don’t wanna look like a light bulb, you know?”

“Right, right, that’s Mr. Stark’s job.” You snort out a laugh, avoiding Peter’s hand as it goes to slap your shoulder. “Sorry, sorry, didn’t mean to offend your dad.”

“He’s not my Dad! He’s just my boss and mentor and all that… And he doesn’t look like a lightbulb. He’s just… shiny.”

“So are lightbulbs, case closed.” You put the extreme illuminating primer aside with the other two as well. “Lastly, is your skin dry at all? Any flaky bits or spots that feel a big rugged when you run your fingers over it?”

“Not dry, but my slight beard coming in is a bit rugged sometimes…”

“Peter, you say that like you’ve got a beard that’s braid worthy or something, calm down there.” You set the hydrating one in the pile of rejects as well, focusing on the poreless primer that was still remaining in front of him. “Then here we go, we’ll use a poreless one on your forehead, nose, and chin, then just use a base moisturizer over everything so you still have a base for the foundation.”

Peter looked at you curiously as you squeezed out the peach-colored gel and started putting it on his nose first. He makes a face and scrunches his nose for a moment, muttering something about how it smelled and he didn’t think he was going to like this.

You then put a little more on his forehead and chin, grabbing a beauty blender that you had wet beforehand, making sure there was no excess water before you start buffing out the primer. You then grab the bottle of moisturizer and pump a little onto his entire face once you’ve given it time to sink in.

“Alright this foundation is going to feel like a weird extra layer of skin that you can’t pull off, but you seriously can’t touch it or feel it because it can and will rub off on your fingers if you do,” you warm him, pumping some of the foundation onto the back of your hand. You take a brush and start applying it liberally, knowing you were going to need to pack on heavy highlighter and contour to make him look like the Instagram model he wanted to be.

“It feels like you’re smearing pancake mix on my face. Half of me loves it and half of me absolutely hates it.”

“Focus on the half that loves it, ‘cause we’ve got a lot more to do.” With that, you grab your beauty blender and start to blend the foundation into his face, neck, and ears, making sure that he didn’t look cakey, but also had a nice, even base. “And now is where you need to stay very still and non-complain-y.”

You pick up the blush compact from beside you and sigh. Oh, how you wanted to make him look like a certain villain that isn’t even present in the marvel universe, but you were a kind significant other, so you restrained yourself from doing so.

Kind of.

—

Forty-five minutes and about fifteen brushes later, Peter Benjamin Parker has perfect smokey eyes, winged eyeliner sharp enough to cut someone, lashes put on perfectly to compliment the rest of his eye look, eyebrows done up to the gods, a blinding highlight, contour that he really didn’t need because he’s already got those good cheekbones, and the perfect Jenner lip look.

“You look… Woah.” You try to keep your mouth shut, or else a lengthy rant about how he looks super hot will come tumbling out, but it doesn’t work. You can’t help but gape at how amazing he looks, hair tousled, highlight shining from the moonlight shining through the window, his eyes only popping more from how you lined his waterline.

“Am I leaving you speechless?” He strikes a pose, puckering his lips with a small laugh, but fails to notice how your eyes bug out for a second at the beautiful sight.

You must have zoned out for a moment staring at him because the next thing you know, he’s way closer than you remembered and he’s calling your name, trying to get your attention back on him, unaware that it never left.

“(Y/N), you alright? If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’ve fallen in l—”

“I fell in love with you a long time ago, Peter.”

“—ove with this look… Oh…”

“Oh, I didn’t… You can just ignore the fact that I said that if you want to, I’m sorry.”

“No, I, uh… I just didn’t, you know, um, expect it! It’s great that you love me, actually, ‘cause surprise! I love me— you— I love you, too!”

There’s an awkward silence for a moment before you two both lean in a little further for what seems like centuries before your lips connect. Neither of you move for a moment, afraid to do something wrong, but once it passes, you place your hand on his cheek and he puts a hand on your waist so he can steadily move towards you.

Soon enough, he’s over you, his fingers intertwined with yours while still keeping him above you and not crushing you into his mattress. You slide your tongue into his mouth at one point, courageously making the first move, but as soon as you do so, his door is opened by Aunt May, who takes a moment to see what’s going on.

“Hey, how’s the look going? I really hope you made him look weird— it would be going straight on my facebo— Peter what are you doing?!”

He jumps off of you, hitting his head on the top bunk with a small gasp. He looks down at you for a moment, both urging you to help him explain and admiring the small bits of glitter that had rubbed from his high points onto your face. It was also in this moment that he got lost looking at your puffy from kissing, lipstick stained, inviting lips.

“Peter, I asked you a question. What. Do. You. Think. You’re. Doing?”

“He was seeing if the lipstick would transfer easy,” you blurt out, not able to think of anything else. “He doesn’t have any celebrity crush posters, so I had to be his subject.”

“...I… I mean, valid point… but why in the bed so… teenager-y?” At this point, May is just teasing Peter, which you catch onto and join in on.

“Well, we are teenagers. We have glands which release…?” You look up at Peter, somehow managing to make you hiding your smile pass as you wiping the lipstick off your lips. “—Pete, this is review for you! What do glands release?”

“Uh, hormones! They release hormones! Wait, no, May, come on, can you give us a second, then I’ll show you how it turned out? Please?”

“...Alright, but that lipstick better be fixed by the time I get back in here in five.” She eyes you two down for a moment, then closing the door.

“...Wow, what a shit show.” He laughs out, resting his head in the crook of your neck.

“Tell me about it, that was hilarious.” You grab the lip liner again, just planning to make his lips look a little bigger so you didn’t have to redo any foundation or contour.

“Now, even though it got us into this mess in the first place, I’m gonna need you to pucker up, Parker.”