the little things.

pretty. (i)

Technically not a request but who cares

***

Scott groans as Mitch pulls on his hand, tugging him through the semi-crowded make-up store. His left arm was already heavy with bags, their binding digging into his arm and no doubt leaving bruises in their wake.

As they passed stands of make-up and perfume and occasionally jewelry Scott found himself slowing, eyes trained on a set of dark mascaras and lipsticks.

They were in a rainbow of dark colours, all velvet reds and royal purples and navy blues and pure blacks and it was enchanting, to imagine himself wearing them, to see how he looked casually when coupled with his outfit from the other day.

Fans had said his eyelashes looked pretty before, had begged him to paint them dark and let the world see just how pretty, and for a moment he wanted to reach out and touch them, to succumb to his desires and try out the brushes and their matching lipsticks.

But then he remembered where they are, who he is, and just as quickly the urge is gone. Mitch is standing next to him silently, head leaning on his shoulder easily with the heels he is wearing, a thoughtful look on his face. Scott thinks to be concerned, wants to ask him if he is alright and what is on his mind, but then the tenor is whispering, "Do you want them?" and the blonde is sure that his face is flushing when the words register.

"I...I can't," he murmurs in return, and Mitch rolls his eyes.

"Sure you can." He grabs a set of both and then he is stalking off, Scott scrambling after him.

He wants to beg and plea that he put them back, that he doesn't buy them because then it's too late to take them back because once he has them he won't want to give them up but then there's another part of him, a much smaller part that has more control over his mind and actions that is thrilled. The thought of putting it on, of secretly wearing it when he's out with Mitch or friends or even wearing it in the comfort of his own home and earning that rush of empowerment back is just as desirable, however, and despite himself he stays silent as Mitch drags him through the shop.

They aren't there long, fifteen minutes at most, yet every second that drags on weighs heavily on Scott and when they finally head for the register to pay he feels as if his heart may break his ribs and rip a hole through his chest. He felt like everyone's eyes were on him, judging him, and when the cashier asked them if they were finished for the day the blonde could feel an anxious bile rising in his throat.

The next few minutes felt like blurs, his own nervousness masking minutes and twisting them into seconds and when he is finally aware of where he is and who he is and what is happening he is sitting in the car, hands shaking and tears clouding his vision.

It is ridiculous to him, crying. He has no reason to; everything went smoothly, as no one had questioned them at all and they hadn't even stumbled across any fans, and in the end he had acquired the make-up he desired, yet his cheeks were damp and his eyes burned and why was he crying?

"Scotty?"

There is rustling, and he hears Mitch's seatbelt unbuckle, and then a long body is climbing into his lap and thin arms are pulling his trembling body closer and the next moment he's sobbing into the brunette's clothed chest. The tenor is running his fingers lightly through blonde hair, pressing at his scalp and tugging lightly at the strands and Scott feels warm and safe and okay yet the tears have yet to cease their decent and he still hiccups with every sob that escapes his lips.

"I'm sorry, Scotty, I didn't know I made you so upset. Do you want me to go return them? I just thought..." Mitch's voice is soft, hesitant, and the blonde panics because that is the exact opposite of what he wants, and he shakes his head frantically, unable to calm himself down long enough to voice his thoughts. "Well what do you want then, baby? I can't help you unless you tell me how."

There is a long silence, filled with Mitch's soft humming and Scott's small sniffles and light sobs, and then, "Can you give me a makeover when we get home?"

His voice is soft, a mere whisper that for a moment Mitch isn't sure he heard, and then his lips are spreading wide in a grin, and a small kiss is placed on the taller boy's head. "Sure, baby. I'll doll you up real nice. You'll look like a fucking goddess when I'm done with you."

Scott giggles, finally pulling himself away from Mitch's chest and rubbing lightly at his eyes. He sniffles once more, then wet blue eyes are looking into their dark opposite, and the blonde bites his lip, looking away. "Will you make me look pretty?"

Mitch rolls his eyes, leaning forward to press another kiss to Scott's forehead even as he unwinds his arms from the blonde's neck. "You're already beautiful, babe. But sure, I'll make you look pretty."

***

Is it just me or is my writing both simultaneously getting better and worse?

Hiii I haven't updated in a while even though I have a lot of ideas and unfinished one-shots what even am I.

I don't really have a lot to say but I'm gonna post little talks soon and finally talk about my Pentatonix concert (Us the Duo followed me the day after it was nice) and then I have this one-shot I'm gonna post soon that'll come with a cute lil story (maybe I'll turn the story into a one-shot too who knows).

Does anyone want to write a collab story or one-shot I feel like that would be fun.

I take requests love you all byeeee <3

(PS: Oh my God read Femme by bubblegrassi I am LIVING)

(PSS: I forgot the picture w/the comment bYE)