"Hold still," he orders, trying (and failing) to apply your mascara.
You attempt to push him away but he doesn't budge.
"Donnie..." You groan, "You're going to take my eye out."
He pouts, "No I'm not!"
Finally, he moves his hands away, grinning broadly, "Ta da!"
"Is it done?" You ask, scared to look in the mirror.
"No wait!" He grabs a stick of lipstick, "Where does this go?"
You raise your eyebrows at him in disbelief.
He seriously doesn't know where LIP stick goes?
"What?" He huffs, holding it in front of your face.
You roll your eyes, "Donnie, it goes on my lips."
"Oh!" He nods, beginning to apply it, "And... Done!"
With fear on your features, you turn around to face the mirror, a gasp leaving your lips.
You look horrible.
"Donnie!" You gape, groaning, "I should've never agreed to this."
"You look beautiful, Y/N!"
"No. I really don't. Dork," you tease, starting to remove the excessive amount of makeup he applied.
Yes, he may be a dork, but you love him. And there's not a thing about him that you'd change.
