multifandom oneshots/preferences

lxxii. makeup--paul gray (slipknot)

a/n: tw for a creep in a makeup store

"Jeesh, are you stocking up for the end times?" Paul jokes as you pick up two more eyeliners from the shelf after swatching it on your hand. 

"Y2K's coming, Paulie. I gotta be ready," you shrug, dropping the small boxes into the basket on your arm. As you drop them, something catches your eye. A man deep into his middle age is watching a young girl, no older than 12, from the side of an aisle. 

Subtly, you move through the store closer to the girl so you can interfere. 

"You okay, Y/n? You seem a bit distracted," Paul squeezes your hand. 

You study a dark maroon lipstick. "There's a man at 2 o'clock who's following a girl around. He's giving me a bad feeling."

Paul looks slightly to the right to see the man as he brushes past the girl. 

"Oh, fuck no," you mutter, dropping the lipstick and Paul's hand before you make your way over to the girl. She paces over in your direction, clearly uneasy, but trips over a display case and falls onto her knees. 

The man flies over to her, but you block his path and lean down to stretch a hand out to her. Noticing Paul, the man backs away a few steps.

"Hey, you okay?" you ask, gently taking the girl's hand and helping her back up. 

"Whoa...," she simply mutters, scanning you in your full alternative wear. Your full face of insane black and white makeup, black lacey clothes with chains covering your pants, and long black nails are unlike anything she's ever seen. "Y-yeah, I'm alright."

The girl is speechless as she keeps looking at you. "...how do you even do that?"

You smile. "Lots of practice. Lots of staying up all night reading magazine tutorials."

"That's so cool. You're gorgeous. I wish I could do that."

You look over at the area in the store where people can get their makeup done by appointment. The chairs are empty. Plus, it's an open area that gives you a clear view of wherever the creep could be in the store. 

"Want me to do some on you?" you grin. 

"Really?" the girl's eyes light up. 

"Come on," you reach for her hand and walk by Paul, both to talk to him and to grab a concealer shade that's slightly paler than the girl's shade. 

"Keep an eye on him," you whisper to your boyfriend. 

"Mh-hm," he nods. You snag a concealer, then lead the girl to one of the makeup chairs. 

"So what do you think you want, something more grungy, or like artsy, or more goth?" you ask, laying out the concealer, some of the makeup in your basket, and the makeup you've got in your handbag. 

"I really like what you've got," she replies. 

"Okay, something more goth, I like it," you smile. "I'm Y/n, by the way."

"I'm Allison," the girl sits still as you swipe some concealer beneath her eyes and nose, but she shifts uncomfortably when you're done. "...thank you."

"Of course," you hum. "I'm sorry this happened to you."

"Do I look...is it my clothes?" Allison looks away.

Your heart breaks. 

"Hey," you kneel down in front of her. "It's not your fault. It's not you, it's never the victim. It's never the young girls 'seducing' men who can't keep it in their pants. It's always the offender's fault. What happened there is something so disgustingly common that it's accepted as a part of the female experience, and if no one else tells you this, I'll tell you that it should not be common. Men preying on girls is fucked up. Men following girls around in public is insanely fucked up and genuinely terrifying."

"Mh-hm," Allison slowly meets your gaze.

"It happened to me too growing up. No matter if I knew how to get away, it never made it any less scary that a strange man was following me."

"I'm sorry it happened to you."

"I'm sorry it happened to you. And, if it's any comfort, my 6 foot, 200 pound boyfriend is keeping an eye on that creep, and would not hesitate to kick the shit out of him."

Allison starts to turn her head, but you place two fingers under her chin to keep her facing you. 

"I need to blend out your concealer," you hum, grabbing a sponge and starting the kid's makeup.

You stand up to get a better look and focus as you blend the concealer out. She gets a light powder, some dark gray lines beneath her brows and a bit of nose contour, a bit of eyeshadow, and a big eyeliner wing. 

All the while, you watch as Paul glares down the creep enough until he retreats out of the store. 

"You're almost done," you smile. "Black, gray, or maroon lipstick?"

"Hm...maroon," Allison replies. 

"Hell yes."

You swipe on the lipstick, then reveal the look to her. 

She gasps and stares at herself in the mirror. 

"Oh my god, thank you!" Allison leaps from the chair and hugs you. You hug her back, happy that she likes it. 

You ask her where her parents or friends are, then you and Paul walk with her to find her folks. Her mom is relieved to see her, though slightly shocked to see her with an extremely alternative couple. 

"Uhm, who are you?" the mom takes Allison's hand and pulls her behind her legs. 

"I'm Y/n, this is my boyfriend Paul. I noticed a man following Allison in Sephora, so we got them separated and I helped her calm down and do her makeup while Paul got him out of the store and away from us," you explain, nervous that security might get called. 

The mom looks at Allison, who nods to confirm the story. She takes a breath. "Thank you for protecting my daughter."

"Anytime," you nod. "Watch out for a middle aged white guy, about 50, in a red sweater and dark gray pants. he's wearing a chunky ring with a lion on it on his right middle finger, and I noticed he was carrying a knife."

"He went that way, toward the Bass Pro Shops," Paul motions behind him. "I told the store employees to tip off security about him, too."

"Thank you," the mom says again. "You're good people."

You and Paul exchange a glance. "We try our best to be," you reply with a small smile. 

About an hour later, you and Paul are getting into his car, dropping your bags into his backseat. 

"Hey, Y/n!" a familiar voice calls from a distance. You look over to see Allison with her family giving you a wave. You smile, wave back, and blow her a kiss before getting into the car. 

You and Paul sit in the car in silence for a few minutes. 

"Thank you for protecting my daughter...," Paul mumbles. 

"Holy shit, it took everything in me not to start bawling when she said that," you comment. 

"Me too."

"She asked me if it was her fault, too," you reach over for Paul's hand. He gently takes it and runs his thumb over it. 

"Jesus," Paul hums. 

"I know," you nod. "I hope she's alright."

"You did the right thing," Paul squeezes your hand. 

"You did too. Thanks for helping me out."

"Of course," Paul gives you a small smile, one of those little grins that make your heart warm. 

...

came up with this on a walk, might remaster it later :)