“Stop moving before I poke your eye out.”

Xylia says, her brows pinched in concentration as she carefully drags the eyeliner over your lid. You were sitting on the bed, her body straddling your lap as her hand gripped your chin. It'd been a few hours since you agreed to be her test dummy for a new makeup set. What you didn't know was that 'test' would include three hours of her meticulously making you into a goth e-boy.

You shifted again, and she flicked your forehead.

"I said stop, pretty boy. You can handle me on your lap for a little longer."

She gave you that disarming smile, the one she used to make you pipe down since sophomore year. You remember it fondly; you met her in the hallway, both of you rushing to the same class every single day. You started slowly, talking more and more, and by summer, you had her number. Now? You'd both moved into this dorm, she was taking a business degree to open up her own tattoo parlor, and your relationship had become more and more serious. You still can't remember what happened when you both turned 21... but the morning after gave you an amazing view of the woman that called you hers.

Another flick snaps you back to reality.

"Alright, dummy... done."