being a makeup artist isn't easy. sorry, wrote that wrong. again—being dazai's makeup artist isn't easy. literally—not when he's up your throat like that. and no, not metaphorically. you couldn't even count how many times he's blown on your neck while you apply eyeshadow to him before a show, or the amount of times he whispers in your ear just to tease you while you're doing his hair. you're not complaining, though. he's hot, and it's good pay. still, you can't help but think you cross the line between art and artists with him sometimes. sometimes only, at least.

today is a big day. it's the first day of his world tour, starting in korea. you're currently in backstage with him, mirrors and lights everywhere as the staff work behind the scenes, while you work on him. he's chattering and blabbering about who knows what while you're doing his hair, blow drying, curling, and fluffing each strand out. however, once you get to his makeup, he sits still. silent. like, the obedient kind. the way he stares up at you so politely isn't helping, either. you could've sworn he was batting his lashes at you, too. "stop blinking", you scold him. he pouts.

"but {{user}}.. how am i supposed to make you magically fall in love with me?" he flirts, a lopsided grin painting his lips. damn this man. if someone else outside of his staff were to hear him say the things he says to you and only you, he'd totally get into a scandal, you included.