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iamhereforfunnzies · 3 months ago

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Chapter 2:I wanna be pretty... CONFIDENT

Waking up at 5 a.m. for work—wait. You quit your job.

Huh. It’s weird—you’re free today.

Yawning loudly, you stretch in your My Melody pajamas as you walk down the halls. That’s when you see Damian.

"Disheveled as usual, (Name)," he remarks, his usual glare fixated on you.

God. Your younger brother has always been a thorn in your side, constantly reminding you of how little you contribute to the family. To him, you’re the dead weight—the one who needs to step up and prove their worth. He probably came from some weird cult where family bonding means fighting each other. Dick once told you that eight-year-old Damian tried to prove he was the superior offspring by attempting to immobilize you with a butter knife while you, at twelve, just wanted to give him snacks.

"Yeah, I just woke up," you reply, running a hand through your hair in an attempt to fix it. Then, an idea pops into your head. "Are you free today, Damian? I don’t really have—"

He cuts you off before you can finish. "Why would I waste my time? Honestly, (Name), me, hanging out with you? What would we even do? You can’t even—"

You tune out the rest of his words, staring at him blankly. Right. You still have that habit of asking them to hang out.

"Okay, you made your point." Sighing, you turn away as Damian rolls his eyes and walks in the opposite direction.

So much for that.

A notification pops up on your phone. Glancing at the screen, you see that your class Instagram page mentioned you in a story. "Congrats to (Name) for winning 2nd place in the live painting competition!"

Smiling, you repost it and thank them. Another notification appears—this time, from Bea, your close classmate.

Boba_Lover: Finally, you’re active, bitch! I know you’re gonna say no as usual, but can you skip work and come to Johnson St.? They’re selling figurines and Pop Marts for you to waste your money on. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE

Seen

A rush of excitement fills your stomach. Oh my God. Thank you, thank you so much, Bea!

She’s always been persistent, never giving up on inviting you even when you constantly declined. Thank God for her determination.

You smile so hard that you literally jump in the middle of the hallway.

(Name): Okay. Seen

Immediately, your phone is flooded with excited messages—misspelled words, caps lock smashes, and even mentions in the class group chat.

LET'SGOCUTIES: "OMG FIRST TIME FULL ATTENDANCE JUST FOR A HANGOUT." "Academics? No. Overpriced coffee and Ren Fair? YESSS."

You giggle, but then a terrifying realization hits you.

I HAVE NOTHING TO WEAR.

Back in your room, you stare at your closet.

Oh my God. It’s all My Melody-themed.

Pajamas, home clothes, jackets, hats, skirts, pants, shirts—EVERYTHING.

They are so going to think you’re a huge weirdo. No one in your class has ever seen you in anything but the Gotham Prep uniform. This is a disaster.

But you have no choice.

You settle on a white, long, flowy skirt with a tiny, discreet My Melody logo near the hem, a blouse with ribbons inspired by My Melody’s bow, and a checkered My Melody cardigan. Your My Melody bag holds your matching wallet, tissues, hand sanitizer, medicine container, and powder compact.

Staring at yourself in the mirror, you take in your blushed cheeks, soft manga lashes, and glossy lips. Immediately, you start nitpicking—your foundation has too much texture, your concealer didn’t completely hide your eye bags, your glitter is too faint, and your gloss feels too sticky.

Maybe this is a mistake.

Your phone vibrates. Bea.

"(Nickname), I’m waiting at your bus stop! Let’s go together! Maya brought her digicam, Ella brought her camera, so we’re taking so many pics today! AAAHHH I CAN’T WAIT TO SEE YOU! ARE YOU NEAR?"

Her high-pitched excitement instantly calms your nerves.

"I’m heading out. I’ll be there soon."

As your Mary Janes click against the marble floor, you notice Dick, Tim, Jason, Cass, Steph, and Damian sitting on the couch—bickering, laughing, enjoying their time together.

"Everyone here?" Bruce asks.

"Yup, even Jason is here!" Dick grins.

A lump catches in your throat.

You want to stay. You want to be part of this moment.

But no one calls for you. No one asks if you’re staying.

You don’t cry—your lashes will fall off.

With a heavy heart, you leave the manor.

At the bus stop, Bea waves at you.

"(Name), you are such a cutie!" she gushes.

She’s wearing a black tube top, leopard-print flared pants, signature red-bottom heels, and a simple Prada handbag.

"I like your hair," you say, admiring her Ariana Grande-style ponytail.

Her eyes shine. "I love your makeup! It’s so doll-like! Douyin style suits you so well! Love, love the bag! Wait—I have an extra hair tie! Let’s match!"

Before you can protest, she pulls out hair ties, a comb, and hair gel, determined to style you herself.

Johnson St. is lively and chaotic.

Your class is already arguing about something.

When they notice you and Bea, they stop.

"Wow, matching hairstyles but completely different aesthetics!"

People start complimenting you.

A girl you’ve never spoken to before, dressed head to toe in Kuromi-themed attire, smirks at you.

"Wow, you love Kuromi," you comment, eyeing her outfit.

She raises an eyebrow. "You’re one to talk."

Her name is Alex.

You have so much fun.

The day feels too short for this much joy.

At dinner, your classmate Marcus drops a fry.

"Motherfuck—"

"WE ARE AT A FINE DINING RESTAURANT, WATCH YOUR MOUTH!" Bea snaps.

The entire restaurant goes silent.

Then Ethan joins in, "Marcus, why are you even eating fries before the meal—"

"OI, Marcus is just hungry. Does he not have the right to eat?" another classmate argues.

Suddenly, the class is divided into two.

And, unfortunately, you’re caught in the middle.

"(Name), was Marcus in the wrong?" Ethan asks.

You blink. Why me?!

Taking a deep breath, you reply, "Eating before the food is served is acceptable since fries are appetizers."

Marcus fist-pumps.

"However."

He slumps back down.

"It’s rude to curse in a fine dining restaurant. So while I agree with you, Ethan, Marcus can still eat what he wants."

Silence.

Then, applause. THE HELL?!

"Correct, (Name)!"

"That’s the longest you’ve ever talked in front of us!"

"WE NEED MORE PEOPLE LIKE YOU!"

Your face burns with embarrassment. "Sit down! This isn’t something to applaud!"

You get kicked out of the restaurant.

Laughing, Bea pats your shoulder. "Come out more often. This was fun."

Smiling, you nod. "I will."

Looking through your phone in Instagram you can’t help but laugh at all the stories in your classmates account; you never felt so accepted , pretty , funny , wanted , and overall happy. Yeah, you were happy everytime you get your paycheck , when you win awards , when Alfred makes you cookies , when Dick promises of hangouts , when you buy my melody merch , and get your nails done but this is different.

“I feel like a puzzle piece that fits, a star apart of a constellation, an outfit that just makes sense, a question that was answered, I feel fulfilled.”

Tags: @asillysimp @leeiasure

(Name)’s Class: PSST PSST PSST

(Name): I am not a cat.

(Name)’s Class: OMGSHETALKECOMEHERECUTIE

If you are overthinking the intentions of the classmates (Name) is like the Muse of the classroom because she is the most nonchalant, no one really bothers her cause everyone assumes she is serious and mature (She is one of the only few people in the class to get a job even though they are in well off school); So many of her classmates admires her work school balanced. Behind (Name)’s back everyone calls her Cutie of the Classroom. If you ask why this class is so close it’s because I headcannoned Gotham Prep as an elite school so only a few students are in the school their year having 3 sections, and because of this they have been the same classmates since elementary. Damian is 12 so 6th grade but takes some advanced classes with (Name) as she is in 11th grade.

#yandere batfam #neglected reader #yandere damian wayne #yandere dick grayson #yandere alfred pennyworth #yandere jason todd #yandere tim drake #platonic #yandere cassandra cain #yandere stephanie brown

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hainge · 13 days ago

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Makeup and fun!

bllk!dads feat:Michael Kaiser, Itoshi Sae, Shidou Ryusei, Yukimiya Kenyu and Chigiri Hyoma a/n: I am in fact so proud of chigiri's one adhabdahbfhj wrote it while kicking my feet it’s also almost 2am </3 productive life

Michael Kaiser

It started off normal.

Michael was on the couch, reading a book with one leg up, while Matilda sat beside him, munching on an apple and staring at him like he might suddenly turn into a movie.

They’d built Legos earlier, some weird-looking castle that had two doors and no windows. Matilda was proud. Michael was too tired to point out the structural flaws.

Then, she disappeared for five minutes.

When she came back, she held a makeup bag.

“Let’s do your makeup,” she said cheerfully.

Michael looked over his book. “Don’t you wanna draw or something?”

“Nope. You sit still. I’ll make you beautiful.”

“…I’m already beautiful.”

“You’ll be more.”

He sighed, marking his page. “I don’t think your mom will be happy if she finds out.”

“I’ll be careful.”

That was a lie. But she said it with such confidence, he let it slide.

Ten minutes in, Matilda had broken the mascara wand clean in half. She gasped, whispered “oh no,” and then used her fingers instead. It was clumpy. His lashes stuck together like tree branches after a storm.

She moved on.

Her tiny hands dug into a fancy compact, blush, probably, and then she scooped concealer with the same finger. She didn’t blend. She smooshed. Right onto his cheek.

“There,” she said. “Nice and red. Like a tomato.”

“Cool,” Michael muttered, trying not to blink.

Next came lipstick. It snapped halfway through the first layer. She shrugged and pushed the broken part into his lips like she was applying glue to a poster.

“I’m so good at this.”

“You are,” he agreed, because lying to your kid was allowed when they were already emotionally attached to the outcome.

Then came the eyebrow gel.

Except it wasn’t gel anymore. She mixed it with something else. Foundation? Water? Guilt?

Whatever it was, it ended up smeared across his eyebrows like brown glue. He scratched his head and instantly regretted it.

And then… the powder.

It slipped from her hand with a soft “uh-oh” and hit the floor like a mini explosion. €45, gone in a puff of shimmer.

They both stared at it.

“Don’t move,” she whispered. “We clean.”

They wiped, dusted, swept. Matilda even used one of his old soccer jerseys to soak up some of the fallout. When they were done, the room was cleaner than before.

They sat in silence. Michael looked like a defeated clown.

Matilda smiled. “You look amazing.”

“Thanks. I can’t feel my face.”

You came home already done with the day.

Work had been hell. Your boss was passive-aggressive, your back ached, and all you wanted was to put on your comfiest sweatshirt and exist in silence for twenty minutes without being needed.

Instead, you opened the bathroom door.

And paused.

The first thing you noticed was the powder. It was subtle, but your trained eyes caught it, the faint shimmer near the baseboards, the slightly off-color grout line.

Your heart sank.

Then came the rest.

The cracked blush compact. Your favorite lipstick, snapped in two like a breadstick. Foundation cap missing. Concealer and blush mixed. Mascara, twisted open and dried out. Your setting powder? Gone. Vaporized. You didn’t even want to touch it.

You stood there, gripping the doorframe, jaw tight.

They touched your stuff.

You stormed down the hallway, shoes still on, bag still hanging from one shoulder. No greeting. No preamble. You walked into the living room and-

There he was.

Michael. Your grown-ass husband. Lying on the couch like he hadn’t committed a war crime. Face full of smeared glitter, eyebrows suspiciously sticky, and faint remnants of fuchsia lipstick in the corner of his mouth.

He looked up, blinking innocently. “Hey.”

Your hands clenched into fists. “Michael.”

“Yeah?”

“Why do you look like a rejected Bratz doll?”

He straightened slightly. “Okay, first of all, that’s rude.”

You dropped your bag onto the floor with a thud. “What. Did. You. Do.”

From behind the couch, a small head popped up. “Hi Mommy!”

Matilda.

You exhaled through your nose. “What. Did she do to you?”

“I was her model,” Michael said, a bit too proudly.

“And my makeup?” you snapped.

Michael hesitated. “She… borrowed it.”

“You LET her?”

“She said she’d be careful!”

“She's FIVE, Michael!”

Matilda slowly slid out of view.

You marched into the middle of the room, pointing toward the hallway. “Did you not see the broken blush? The mascara? My €45 setting powder? It’s a war zone in there.”

Michael had the nerve to look slightly offended. “We cleaned.”

“I don’t care if you vacuumed it with a Dyson on holy mode. My entire routine is in pieces.”

Matilda peeked back up, holding a Lego brick like a peace offering. “We made a castle?”

You turned back to Michael. “You know what else you made? A €124 shopping list.”

He winced.

“Oh, and you’re not just replacing the makeup,” you added. “You’re explaining to the Sephora cashier why you need glitter-resistant setting spray and a blush called 'Super orgasm'”

He sighed. “Do I have to say the shade name out loud?”

“Oh, you’ll say it. Loud and proud.”

Matilda tugged at your sleeve. “Mommy… am I grounded?”

You crouched down, voice soft but firm. “Matilda, sweetie, I love you. But if you touch my serum again, I’ll file a restraining order.”

Michael cleared his throat. “Does that go for me too?”

You glared at him. “Michael, if you so much as look at my mascara again, I swear to God—”

He stood up quickly. “Matilda. Shoes. Let’s go.”

“Where?” she asked.

“To sell a kidney,” he muttered. “Apparently I owe your mom half of Sephora.”

Itoshi Sae

Sae should’ve known better the moment Kimiko came into the room with her hands on her hips like a CEO.

“Daddy,” she announced, “I’m going to be a makeup artist when I grow up.”

Sae didn’t look up from the TV. “That so?”

“I already made a lookbook. I call this one ‘Sun Princess.’” She shoved a paper into his face. It was a crayon drawing of a girl with gold eyeshadow and orange cheeks, wearing what looked like a tiara made of eyeliner pens.

Sae blinked. “Looks... bright.”

She nodded. “Yup. And now you’re going to wear it.”

He slowly turned his head. “Come again?”

“We’re trying it. On your face. With Mommy’s makeup.”

Sae closed his book. “That’s not going to happen.”

She squinted at him. “Do you want to hurt my dreams, Daddy?”

“…no"

“Sit down. I already laid out the palette.”

He sighed, like a man heading into war. “Just the eyeshadow. Nothing else.”

Kimiko was already tying a towel around his neck like a cape. “Sure, sure.”

An hour later, he’d lost all control of the situation.

The “just eyeshadow” plan had escalated fast.

“Stop frowning. You’re creasing it,” she scolded, dabbing more gold onto his lids with a tiny sponge she kept calling her “power blender.”

He didn’t dare move.

“I said close your eyes. But not too tight. Ugh, Daddy, this is hard work. I’m building a brand here.”

Sae said nothing. His cheeks were burning, not emotionally, physically. Kimiko had layered on so much blush, he could feel it tingling. Not to mention the bronzer, which she’d called “spicy powder” and generously applied all over his jawline and cheekbones.

“Looking good,” she muttered to herself, smudging one wing of eyeliner with the grace of a chaotic Picasso. One side is snatched. The other is... interpretive.

“I can’t feel my skin,” he said.

“You don’t need to. You’re art.”

He looked in the mirror. Orange undertone. Flamingo blush. Uneven eyeliner. But no products broken. No brushes destroyed. She even cleaned the sponge after each shade change. Honestly? She had technique.

Still. He felt like a baked sweet potato.

You came home to this masterpiece.

Kicked off your shoes, dropped your bag, walked into the living room and just stopped. Your tired brain tried to process the sight:

Your husband. Sitting rigid on the couch. Bronzed to oblivion. Eyeliner tragic. Sparkle highlight catching the light like a prism. And your daughter, hands on hips, nodding at her own handiwork.

“...Sae,” you said slowly. “What the hell is on your face?”

“She’s living her dream,” he deadpanned.

Kimiko spun around. “Mommy, look! He’s the Sun Princess! I even did contour but like… experimental.”

You covered your mouth, trying not to laugh. “Oh wow. Oh my God. Your nose contour looks like… like a lightning bolt.”

“On purpose,” Kimiko said. “It’s called editorial chaos.”

You pulled out your phone. “Hold still. This is going on the family group chat.”

“Don’t,” Sae muttered.

“Say cheese, Sun Princess.”

He didn’t even blink. Just stared, cheeks blazing with artificial color as you snapped five photos in a row.

“I hope you realize this is revenge,” you grinned. “For letting her eat frosting with a spoon last week.”

Kimiko raised her hand. “I approve this revenge.”

Shidou Ryusei

You should’ve known something was wrong the moment the house was quiet.

Too quiet.

No screaming. No running. No Shidou yelling about “epic snack time” or your daughter humming off-key to anime openings. Just… silence.

Until you stepped inside the room you shared with him, and saw it.

The ring light was on. Your makeup bag was open. And right in front of the camera, posed with one hip popped and fake lashes batting like palm leaves in a storm, was your husband.

Ryusei. In full glam.

And beside him, perched on a pink stool like a gremlin beauty influencer, was Shoko, holding a lip gloss wand like a weapon of mass destruction.

They both turned around, eyes wide.

“Hope you gu—” you started, then just froze. “What is going on?”

A beat of silence.

Then: “Welcome back to our channel,” Shidou grinned, glitter highlighter blinding under the ring light. Shoko struck a pose.

An Hour Earlier

They were sitting on the couch, halfway through watching cursed 5-Minute Crafts videos, when a tutorial for “Easy Lip Gloss in 60 Seconds” played.

Shidou squinted at it. Something in his brain clicked. Telepathically, Shoko gasped beside him.

They locked eyes.

“Let’s do a GRWM,” Shidou said.

“Yesssss,” Shoko whispered. “Get. Ready. With. Me.”

“Camera?”

“Charging.”

“Lighting?”

“Ring light from the closet.”

“Angle?”

“Front-facing and flawless.”

“Makeup?”

“…Mommy’s drawer.”

They fist-bumped.

The transformation was chaos, but organized chaos. Shoko, a menace with a mission, directed him like a six-year-old Spielberg.

“Okay Daddy, sit still. I’m doing the liner.”

“Sharp enough to kill a man?”

“Sharp enough to stab my opps.”

“Hell yeah.”

She narrated everything in a dramatic little Voiceover. “Okay guysss… so like, first we’re priming…what's primer again?…wait nevermind.”

Ryusei couldn’t stop grinning. He even helped her blend the concealer like a pro. Who knew he had technique?

And then—

“Time for the… the bonze,” Shoko announced proudly.

“Bronzer, pumpkin,” he corrected.

“Yes, that.”

She smeared it directly on his nose, no mercy. “DAMN, sweetie,” he said, wheezing.

They tried lashes. Took three tries. The glue got on his eyebrow. He may have lost some dignity but they made it work.

“Okay now do the final pose,” Shoko directed. “Look over the shoulder, then wink.”

Ryusei turned slowly to the camera, lashes flapping like moth wings. He winked. Then fake gasped.

That’s when you walked in.

Back to Present

You just stood there, blinking at the sight: Your grown-ass husband, with fuchsia blush, eyeliner wings that could lift a small bird, and lips shimmering in your limited edition gloss. Your daughter looking like she just conquered the runway.

They looked back at you with identical wide, guilty eyes.

“…Is that my Charlotte Tilbury lipstick?” you asked.

“Allegedly,” Shidou said.

“Those are my fake lashes,” you added, stepping closer.

Shoko giggled. “They’re Dad’s now.”

You blinked at them, speechless.

Then you started laughing, really laughing, because what else could you do when your husband looked like a drag queen who'd been coached by a sugar-fueled child?

“Pose again,” you said, pulling out your phone. “I’m not letting this go undocumented.”

Shoko threw up peace signs. Shidou did the duck lips. You died a little inside, and lived.

Yukimiya Kenyu

The house was calm. The kind of calm that only happened when the laundry was folded, the sun was setting, and the soft sound of your snoring floated from the couch nearby, finally getting the nap you'd been threatening to take all week.

Yukimiya sat on the bed beside a basket of warm clothes, folding neatly, rhythmically, while Emi matched socks and chatted like a little bird.

“daddy,” she said suddenly, “can I do your makeup after this?”

He paused mid-fold. “Hmm… I don’t know, sweetie. Mommy doesn’t want anyone near her vanity.”

She tilted her head, already pouting. “But I got all A’s on my tests.”

He exhaled, long and slow, but smiled. He was a weak man for his daughter, especially when her bangs fell over her eyes and her lip wobbled.

“Fine,” he said, setting the shirt down. “But we have to be quick. And we cannot—cannot—destroy anything.”

“Deal!” she beamed.

They tiptoed toward your vanity like two burglars in a heist movie. Emi took it very seriously. She had laid out each product like surgical tools. Yukimiya helped her sort everything, identifying brushes and palettes like a trained professional.

“Okay, this is foundation. Use the sponge gently. Don’t drag it.”

“Yes, Papa.”

“This is for your cheeks. A little goes a long way.”

“Yes, Papa.”

“This is highlighter, but—oh. You already opened it. Okay.”

By the time she was done, he looked like a K-pop idol. Skin glowing. Blush soft and natural. Lashes curled and coated delicately. His lips were still untouched, waiting.

“Now lipstick, Daddy,” Emi said with deadly calm.

“Wait—be gentle with that, the twisty part is—”

PRESS.

Too late.

She had shoved the lipstick halfway into his teeth with full first-grade determination. The tube cracked sideways under the pressure, smearing bright coral across his chin.

“…Sweetie,” he whispered, frozen. “Oh no. Oh no no no-”

“What’s wrong?”

“You broke Mommy’s favorite lipstick.”

Emi gasped. “Oh no. We were doing so well.”

“Ken…”

Both of them stiffened.

Your sleepy voice cut through the silence like a horror soundtrack.

You stepped into the room, blinking through your post-nap fog. You rubbed your eyes and froze.

There he was.

Yukimiya Kenyu, crouched beside your vanity. Eyes sparkly. Cheeks glowing. Coral lipstick half on, half under his mouth. Your daughter standing next to him, looking like she’d just murdered Barbie.

“Are you with…” you squinted harder, “what the…”

Yukimiya smiled with all the grace he could muster. “She got all A’s.”

You stared at him.

Then at your lipstick.

Then back at him.

“…You better pray that wasn’t my favorite-”

You blinked. Took a second look.

“…Actually, you know what? I always hated that shade. Looked weird on me. Makes sense it ends up working on you, of course.”

Yukimiya raised an eyebrow. Emi beamed.

“We slayed Mommy,” she said proudly.

You sighed, rubbing your face. “Yeah, yeah, you slayed, whatever. But next time? Ask me first.”

Yukimiya held up a tissue in surrender. “Noted.”

“I need coffee before I decide how mad I am.”

Yukimiya mouthed “thank god” and immediately started wiping his lips with a tissue. Emi was already trying to hide the broken lipstick under the table like a criminal.

Chigiri Hyoma

The night started peacefully.

You were out with your friends, finally letting yourself breathe. A girls' night, long overdue. You left the twins with Chigiri, who had promised you nothing catastrophic would happen while you were gone.

Promises are just... words, really.

8:43 PM – Chigiri's Living Room

“UNO,” Chigiri said flatly, dropping a +4 on Mayu with zero remorse.

Mayu’s face crumpled. “…Not fair.”

Himari let out the most dramatic sigh in the history of sighs. “I’m bored. Can we do something else?”

Chigiri leaned back against the couch. “Like what?”

She looked around. Scanned. Calculated. And then, there it was.

Your mascara.

Sitting innocently on the coffee table. Taunting fate.

“Makeup,” Himari declared. “On you, Dad.”

Chigiri didn’t even flinch. “Not a good idea.”

“Daaaaaad.”

“Not a goooood ideaaaaa.”

“If you don’t let us, I’ll tell Mommy about the vase you broke when you kicked the ball inside the house.”

He paused.

“…Fine. Fineeeee. But both of you get one side. We’re splitting my face. Equal rights.”

9:12 PM – The War Zone

Chigiri sat cross-legged on the floor, every cell in his body screaming, “This is how legends die.”

Mayu, gentle and focused, handled the left side of his face with unexpected grace. She actually blended.

“Good job, Mayu,” he mumbled.

Himari was on a different planet.

“Noooo, don’t move, you’re gonna ruin my art!”

“Why does it feel like you're stabbing me?”

“Beauty is pain, Daddy.”

And then, suddenly-

“...What are you drawing?”

“Nothing.”

Pause.

“Is that-HIMARI--”

“SHHHH.”

She had drawn a dick on his cheek. In eyeliner.

Where a blush contour should be.

“Where did you even learn what that is?!”

“I have bros in my class.”

1:34 AM – The Aftermath

When you walked through the door, the house was oddly quiet. The lights were low. Peaceful.

You tiptoed to your room and found all three of them curled up in your bed, the twins tucked under each arm of your very unconscious husband.

But something glinted under the dim lamp light.

You leaned in.

"...Is that..."

You squinted.

"...Is that a dick on your face?!"

You slapped his shoulder in a harsh whisper. “Bae… babe. Babe! Wake up!”

“Huh—wha—” he blinked up at you like a stunned deer. “What time is it?”

You pointed furiously. “What. The hell. Is this?!”

He wiped his cheek lazily and only smeared the eyeliner more. “Himari’s creative?”

You stared at him, then sighed and walked to the bathroom. Looked down at the toilet and...surprise! there there was your mascara, floating.

The Next Morning – Breakfast Table of Regret

You sipped your coffee, staring across the table at your husband.

He sat on the opposite end like a man on trial, face wiped clean but soul permanently stained.

“So,” you said flatly. “Want to explain why my mascara was floating in the toilet like a drowned rat?”

Chigiri cleared his throat. “In my defense… she was threatening me with blackmail.”

“And the eyeshadow mixed with concealer?”

“Himari was blending ‘like the YouTubers.’”

“And the eyeliner art?”

“…She said it was anatomically accurate. I don’t even know what that means anymore.”

You rubbed your temples.

In the corner, Mayu and Himari giggled over their cereal.

“Next time,” you muttered, “I’m hiring a babysitter. One with armor.”

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mashtatosworld · 2 months ago

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on set

summary: you're a trainee make-up artist for Big Bang, but you're more than that to him

Working with Big Bang was easily the best part of your apprenticeship.

Unlike other artists who wanted layers of product, constant touch-ups, and precise contouring, the guys mostly required light work: a bit of foundation, some powder, a touch of eyeliner if the concept called for it.

It made your job more enjoyable, especially since they treated you like part of the team rather than just another staff member.

It made for a relaxed atmosphere in the makeup trailer, where laughter and teasing were as common as powder brushes and eyeliner pencils.

Seunghyun was the worst at sitting still, always shifting in his chair when you tried to fix his brows, even running away when you brought out the tweezers. While Daesung, ever the considerate one, sat perfectly still and thanked you each time you adjusted something. Youngbae, being the perfectionist he was, always asked to check his reflection halfway through, nodding in approval before letting you continue.

But Jiyong?

Jiyong made your job interesting.

The others mostly kept things professional, but he had a habit of getting under your skin - both figuratively and literally. He was always touching, always leaning, always there.

If he wasn’t stealing your makeup brushes to twirl between his fingers or teasingly drag over your nose while you were moisturising his skin, then he was casually resting his chin on your shoulder while you worked on someone else, peering at your technique like an inquisitive cat.

The worst part?

You didn’t even mind.

You kind of liked it.

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

“Is that my sandwich?” you asked, watching as he took another bite of the meal you had left on the table - having stepped away only for a moment to grab your compact mirror.

Jiyong glanced up from his phone, completely unbothered. “You left it unattended. That’s a free-for-all.”

You narrowed your eyes. “That was my lunch.”

He had the audacity to smirk, chewing slowly before holding up the other half. “You can still have the rest.”

"Keep it." You rolled your eyes, being extra forceful as you dabbed his face with powder. But the damn smirk never dropped from his face.

The next day was the same.

You had left your breakfast bar on the make up table and when you returned, it was half-eaten, carefully wrapped back up again like he hadn't taken several bites.

You snatched it from the table with a huff, but before you could start eating, he reached into his bag and pulled out a small container.

“I got you something,” he said, placing it in front of you.

You frowned, eyeing the packaging. “What is it?”

“Kimchi fried rice,” he replied, shrugging. “Figured you’d want something better than a cereal bar anyway. And we can share this.”

Your heart did a dumb little flip at the casual way he said it.

Daesung, who had been watching the exchange, snickered. “You guys act more like a couple than some actual couples I know.”

Jiyong didn’t even blink. “She’s madly in love with me,” he said, shooting you a playful grin.

You rolled your eyes. “Oh yeah, totally.”

Totally.

Because you couldn’t ignore the warmth spreading through your chest as you dug into the food he had brought you.

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

After that, you two frequently shared lunches together, eating quietly to one side. Sometimes he was keen to speak, other times, you two ate in comfortable silence.

But these interactions had clearly been noticed by others.

One afternoon, while you were fixing the lipstick of one of the lead models for the music video, she brought it up.

“Hey make up girl,” she said smoothly, her tone edged with something sharp. “You and GDragon seem… close.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Oh, uh… I guess? We work together a lot.”

She hummed, lips pursed as if she wasn’t convinced. Then, without hesitation, she asked, “Can you ask him out for me?”

You nearly choked. “What?”

She flipped her hair over her shoulder, giving you a look like it was obvious. “I’ve been wanting to get drinks with him, but he hasn't spoken to me yet. Since you’re close, I need you to set it up.”

You hesitated.

On one hand, you didn’t want to.

You liked Jiyong - more than you probably should.

But on the other hand, she was a well-known model in the industry, and refusing her could put your job at risk. She was demanding. You'd spent most of the week fetching her sparkling water or finding her phone as if you were her personal assistant.

So, against your better judgment, you agreed.

Later, when Jiyong was sitting in a makeup chair waiting for a quick touch-up, you carefully approached him. You took a deep breath, trying to sound casual. “Hey, um, are you busy later?”

He turned his head toward you, intrigued. “Why?”

“There’s this downtown bar,” you said carefully, watching his expression. “And I know someone that would like to go with you.”

Jiyong blinked, then smirked. “You mean you?”

You froze. “What?”

He chuckled, shaking his head like he found your shyness cute. “Why not just say it? Of course I’ll go with you. I had wanted to ask you first, but I guess you beat me to it.”

Your mouth opened, then shut. You were completely stunned. This was not how this was supposed to go.

But before you could correct him, he was already grinning, standing up and lightly pinching your cheek. “Cute. You should’ve just told me earlier, Jagi.”

Jagi?!

From that moment on, everything shifted.

Jiyong treated you like his girlfriend.

He started calling you pet names, saving a seat for you beside him in the van, throwing an arm around you in between takes. At one point, he even pulled you onto his lap when there were no seats left, completely unbothered by the way staff and models alike stared.

And the model? Oh, she was fuming.

She spent the rest of the day on set making your life miserable.

The final straw had been when she 'accidentally' knocked your makeup brushes onto the floor, forcing you to scramble and clean them up before someone slipped on one.

Your mentor had scolded you, sending you away to go clean them with an annoyed tut. By the time the day was winding down, you were exhausted.

You couldn’t take it anymore. You were standing at the sink as you washed the brushes with a scowl.

That’s where Jiyong found you.

“Hey,” he called, voice softer than usual. “I was looking for you.”

You didn’t answer right away, focusing on the brushes. He stepped closer, leaning against the counter. “So, about our date tonight - ”

“I might not be able to go,” you interrupted quietly, not meeting his eyes.

Jiyong frowned. “Why not?”

You swallowed, watching the muted colours stain the porcelain sink. “Because I might be fired before I leave today.”

His entire demeanour shifted. “What?”

You exhaled shakily. “She - ” You didn’t need to say her name. You both knew. “She’s been making my life hell all day. I think she’s trying to sabotage me. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s already complained to my boss. And if she does…”

Jiyong’s jaw tightened. Then he said, voice firm, “If anyone’s going to be fired, it’s her.”

Your eyes widened slightly, caught off guard by his seriousness. “Jiyong - ”

“Don’t worry about it,” he interrupted. “Just focus on our date later.”

You put the brushes down and wiped your hands on your jeans. “That’s still happening?”

He gave you a look like you were crazy. “Of course.” Then, softer, “You still want to, right?”

You hesitated. Not because you didn’t want to, but because you hadn’t really thought about what this all meant.

But the idea of going on a real date with Jiyong - of being his, even if just for a night - excited you.

He studied you carefully, waiting for your answer.

Finally, you nodded. “Yeah. I do.”

A slow, satisfied smirk spread across his lips. He took a step forward, trapping you against the counter, his hands bracing on either side of you.

“Good,” he murmured. Then, before you could react, he leaned in and kissed you - soft, slow, but with enough confidence to make your knees weak.

When he pulled back, his voice was a whisper against your lips.

“I wouldn’t have taken no for an answer.”

Your mood significantly improved after that.

Nothing could ruin your high.

Especially when, the next morning, you arrived on set to find that the model had been replaced.

And Jiyong?

Well, let’s just say he was more than happy to continue calling you Jagi.

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

this will probably be a part of a mini collection 😝

taglist: @petersasteria, @mirahyun , @allthoughtsmindfull , @gdinthehouseee , @infinetlyforgotten , @redhoodedtoad , @kathaelipwse , @lxvemaze , @loveesiren , @sherrayyyyy , @getyoassoutthetrunk , @shieraseastarrs , @ctrldivinev , @xxxicddbr88 , @onyxmango , @tryingtolivelifeblog , @tulentiy , @bettelaboure , @maskedcrawford

#bigbang #kpop #gdragon #kwon jiyong #mashtatosworld #kwon jiyong x reader #gdragon x reader

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melshifting · 2 months ago

Text

ULTIMATE MAKEUP & SKINCARE SCRIPTING PACK ―₊˚⊹ ᰔ

❝You must be a real life doll... look at that porcelain face...❞

― ꒰#01꒱ Your lashes naturally curl upwards, so even without mascara, your eyes look awake and framed like a doll’s.

― ꒰#02꒱ Your mascara never flakes, clumps, or betrays you. Your lashes always look long, fluttery, and full—never spidery, never stiff. It doesn’t smudge under your eyes, even on the longest days, but still washes off effortlessly at night.

― ꒰#03꒱ Concealer doesn’t crease, no matter how long you wear it. Your under-eyes never look dry, cakey, or weirdly textured—it’s always smooth, bright, and perfectly blended.

― ꒰#04꒱ Your perfume never clashes with your skincare or makeup—it all blends into something that smells like you, like your best version.

― ꒰#05꒱ The inside of your makeup bag always stays clean. No foundation spills, broken compacts, mysterious powder residue—everything stays exactly where it should be, in perfect condition.

― ꒰#06꒱ No matter how long your makeup stays on, it looks like it was freshly applied; your lipstick doesn’t fade unevenly, your foundation doesn’t separate—your face remains a masterpiece from morning to midnight.

― ꒰#07꒱ Your skin thrives under any condition. Cold winter air? No dryness. Humid summer heat? No excessive shine. Your skin remains resilient and unbothered.

― ꒰#08꒱ Your foundation shade is always a perfect match—whatever brand you pick, whatever the lighting, it melts into your skin like it was made just for you.

― ꒰#09꒱ Your eyebrows never betray you. No matter how much or how little effort you put in, they always frame your face in a way that looks effortless and natural—never overdone, never uneven.

― ꒰#10꒱ Products last exactly as long as they need to. You never run out at the worst time nor have an expired serum sitting around—your collection is always fresh, effective, and perfectly timed.

― ꒰#11꒱ Your skincare absorbs so well that you never have to worry about piling, peeling, or products reacting weirdly with each other. Everything just works together harmoniously.

― ꒰#12꒱ Makeup wipes off effortlessly at the end of the night. No tugging, no harsh scrubbing—just one smooth motion and your face is clean.

― ꒰#13꒱ No matter how many layers of sunscreen you apply, it never pills, feels greasy, and never interferes with your makeup.

― ꒰#14꒱ Eyeliner? Always symmetrical. You don’t struggle with one perfect wing and one tragic one—your hands have a built-in measuring system that makes each flick sharp, even, and exactly how you envisioned it.

― ꒰#15꒱ Your skin naturally balances itself. Dry patches? They disappear overnight. Oily zones? They adjust to a soft, dewy glow. Your skin works with the seasons, adapting like it has its own internal climate control system.

― ꒰#16꒱ Your lips never crack or peel. No matter the weather, they stay smooth, hydrated, and perfectly tinted.

― ꒰#17꒱ Makeup brushes never shed, hold onto product weirdly, and somehow never need washing (if so, they dry in record time and feel brand new every time).

― ꒰#18꒱ Face masks always do exactly what they promise, instantly fixing whatever issue you need them to, whether it's dullness, dryness, or an unexpected breakout.

― ꒰#19꒱ No matter how bold or subtle your makeup is, it never feels heavy. You could do a full glam look, and it would still feel weightless, like wearing nothing at all.

― ꒰#20꒱ Lipstick never smudges on your teeth. Ever. Even when you’re drinking, eating, or talking for hours—it stays in place like it was tattooed on.

― ꒰#21꒱ Your setting spray actually locks everything in place, without drying your skin or making it feel sticky.

― ꒰#22꒱ Every single skincare product you try just works. No wasted money nor allergic reactions—just immediate, visible results that make you wonder why everyone else struggles to find their holy grail routine.

― ꒰#23꒱ Your hairline and ears never end up with foundation stains, no matter how much or how little you apply.

― ꒰#24꒱ Every time you remove your makeup, your face looks even better than before each time—brighter, softer, completely refreshed.

― ꒰#25꒱ You never get sunburned, but you always look sun-kissed. Your skin stays protected, but you glow like you’ve spent just the right amount of time under the sun.

#shifting community #shifting diary #shifters #shifttok #desired reality #reality shifter #shiftblr #kpop shifting #reality shifting #desired self #bts shifting #shifting antis dni #shifting reality #desired realities #realityshifting #shifting realities #shifting to desired reality #dr scripting #shifting script

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steveharringtonat3am · 1 year ago

Note

Do you think you could write something about doing your makeup routine in front of Steve? I feel like he’d be so fascinated about the process

“What’s that?” Steve sits on your bed behind you, watching through the mirror of your vanity. You hold up the tube in question and he nods.

“This is just tinted moisturizer. I use it under my foundation to colour correct.” You explain, showing him the bottle of foundation you use. Pumping some onto the back of your hand prompts another question.

“Why do you put it on your hand?” He’s sat up now, starting to get interested in the process. He’s seen you with and without makeup plenty of times, but never in between.

“It’s just easier. I can control how much I get on the brush and see how much I need.” You begin blending the foundation into your skin and it’s clear that Steve is only now making the connection as to how your skin changes tone every so often.

“Is it supposed to be a little…off?” He asks in an attempt to be polite about it. He relaxes when he sees you laugh at him in your reflection.

“Yes babe. It’s kinda hard to find a perfect match so I go a little lighter and then correct it with bronzer.” You hold up the compact in question and he nods as if he has any idea what it is. You pull out your concealer, dabbing some on your undereyes and on a few spots. He’s gotten distracted fixing his hair, but grabbing a new brush draws his attention back to you.

“What’s that for?”

“Well, since someone wants to stay up late and makeout, I have to use this and cover my dark circles.” He can only smile sheepishly at your remarks.

“I can’t help it. You look so pretty before bed.” You hum in response, making a note to do your skincare from here tonight.

“Anyways, this is the bronzer.” You place some underneath your cheek bone, blending in the warmer powder to bring in some colour to your face.

“That looks nice.” He nods in approval as he sees your face return to it’s normal shade. He continues to watch as you pull out a small compact of blush. You ignore his cheshire grin when you force a small smile to bring out the apples of your cheeks.

“Stop it.”

“I can’t help it, you look adorable.”

“It’s a stupid face. You’re not allowed to look anymore.” You chastise, putting away the pink powder. Internally, you can’t help but feel flattered. If a man likes your stupid makeup faces, he really loves you.

“Come on! You look so pretty.” You roll your eyes as you pick up your mascara.

“Be quiet for this one.” You instruct, ignoring the way he mock-zips his mouth. You bring the thoroughly coated wand to your lashes, gently coating them. You repeat the process and once you pull away, Steve lets out a breath you hadn’t realized he was holding.

“That looked horrifying!” He complains, climbing off the bed to get super close to your face until he’s convinced you hadn’t poked an eye out.

“I’m fine babe. See?” You flutter your eyes at him but his frown persists.

“Is that all?” He fixes a strand of your hair as you place your things in your makeup bag.

“Just lipgloss and I’m done.” You swipe the wand over your lips a few times, smiling at him when you’re done. The poor gloss lasts for a second before Steve swoops in to press his lips against yours messily. When he’s done, there’s sticky pink gloss on both of your lips and chins.

“There!” He smiles proudly. “Now we match.”

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington scenario #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington headcanon #steve harrington headcanons #steve harrington hc #steve harrington hcs #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fic #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington drabble #steve harrington dialogue #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington x reader fanfiction

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sickskz · 2 months ago

Note

This is strange and specific but could you write a fic about Changbin having pollen allergies as spring starts and he gets embarrassed when someone (not neccessarily a member) points out that (ADORABLE) little scrunch thing he does with his nose when it's itchy 😭❤️ then the members kind of laugh at how cute he is and he gets even more shy lol

He does it 9 times out of 10 when he's just about to sneeze and also just in general when he's itchy and I think it's so fucking cute so could you write a fluffy, sneezy allergy fic for Changbin where the members look after him and stop him being embarrassed? Tysm 🫶

Also feel free to use my account for references lol because I'm obsessed with this man 😭💕

Okay, so I am absolutely in love with the nose scrunch 😭 it’s so cute???? So I definitely had to emphasise that quite a bit in this fic hehe.

Life has been rough the past few weeks so I really craved something fluffy, funny and sweet soooo this came to life🤌🏽

As the flowers bloom

Sickie: Changbin

Caretakers/fan club/affectionate bullies: Stray kids + staff ;)

____________________________________________

Changbin despised spring.

Well, the season itself was fine. The weather warmed up, the days got longer, and people generally seemed to be in a better mood. In theory, it was nice.

But in practice? It was one big nightmare.

The moment Changbin stepped outside the dorm that morning, he immediately knew it was going to be a long day.

The sun was shining, the birds chirping and the air felt undeniably thick with the mixed scents of blossoming flowers. It was a beautiful day to most, but Changbin could already feel the all too familiar tickle in his nose as the pollen spores infiltrated his sinuses.

Even though he had taken his medication, he knew there was no way to truly avoid his symptoms during the height of springtime. He simply had to endure it while his sinuses turned into a battered battleground, just like every other year.

By the time they arrived in the studio to get ready for an interview, his nose was already tickling persistently, and his eyes felt just a little too watery. He snuffled quietly, pressing his knuckle against the tip of his nose to try and ease the discomfort, but it didn’t do much.

The dressing room was its usual chaotic mess of makeup artists, stylists and members moving in and out, preparing for their shoot. Changbin sat in his chair, trying not to fidget too much as a stylist ran her fingers through his hair, adjusting the strands so they fell just right.

As soon as the stylist was satisfied, a familiar makeup artist stepped forward and started working on his face. Changbin did his best to sit still, but he couldn’t help squirming uneasily. His eyebrows kept furrowing as he tried to suppress the itching in his nose, his eyes.. His entire face at this point, really.

“Changbin-ah..” The makeup artist chided gently, pausing midmotion. “You need to stay still.” She tutted, adjusting the beauty sponge in her hand before continuing to blend his foundation.

“Sorry.” Changbin mumbled sheepishly, clearing his throat as he forced his body to stay still. He pressed his lips together, fingers curling against his thighs in an attempt to ground himself.

“Are you okay?” Her voice softened, and her gaze lingered on him with quiet concern. She must have noticed the redness rimming his eyes, or the persistent sheen of tears that seemed to linger within them.

“Yeah.. just allergies.” Changbin replied with a sigh, sniffling again for emphasis. He could feel the itch traveling, teasing at the back of his throat and throughout his airways.

The makeup artist hummed softly, focusing back on her task. “Ah.. Springtime must be tough for you, hm?”

“You have no idea.” Changbin groaned, his voice tinged with frustration. He watched idly as she moved her hands to her belt, pulling up a wide brush and a powder compact.

She chuckled sympathetically, her hands steady as she leaned in and gently started dabbing the powder across his skin. The light pressure from the sponge had been fine, but the moment she dusted the brush of powder near his nose, the once small tickle spread through his sinuses like wildfire.

Instinctively, he wrinkled his nose in a subconscious attempt to chase the itch away, his breath hitching.

Unfortunately for him, it didn’t work.

“Hh’tssCH!”

The makeup artist froze, and for a split second, Changbin was worried he’d ruined her work. But then she let out a delighted gasp, her hands clasping together in excitement.

“Oh my god. That was so cute!”

Changbin blinked up at her, completely stunned by the unexpected reaction. “What?”

“You do this little scrunch thing with your nose before you sneeze! It’s soooo cute!”

Immediately, Changbin stiffened, his stomach plummeting to the floor as he realised what she was on about.

“No, it’s not-”

“It is!” She insisted, spinning toward the stylist beside her, who was busy working on Felix’s hair. “Did you see that? The cute thing he did with his nose? Oh- look! He’s doing it again!”

Of course, she had to point it out just as the itch flared up unbearably. He sniffed sharply, his nose wrinkling on its own accord as he fought another sneeze.

It was a losing battle.

“Hh’tssCHh! Hhh’KTTSCHH’uh!”

Changbin barely managed to duck his head, stifling the rapid sneezes into his cupped hands as warmth rushed into his cheeks.

The moment she called attention to it, it was game over for him. He knew that all too well.

Hyunjin's head immediately snapped towards them from the other side of the room, like a bloodhound catching a scent. “Wait, what? What did he do?”

Felix, who was seated to his right, narrowed his eyes at him through their shared mirror as if he was searching for evidence. “Wait, I didn’t see it. Do it again!”

“N-No?!” Changbin blurted out quickly, eyes widening. He blinked rapidly, desperately trying to clear the stinging, irritated sensation, but it was no use.

“Do what again?” Jisung asked as he rose from the couch in the back, his interest piqued. Lee Know wordlessly trailed after him as he stepped forward, his expression equally as expectant.

“Changbin scrunches his nose like a little bunny before he sneezes!” The makeup artist announced proudly, as if she had just uncovered the greatest secret of the universe. “It’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen..”

Changbin groaned, sinking lower in his seat as if he hoped the chair would swallow him whole. He could already feel his ears burning, and the increasing attention wasn’t helping his case in the slightest. “I… I-It’s not a thing.”

“No, no, it definitely is.” Chan interjected, his grin carrying a mischievous glint as he caught Changbin’s eye in the mirror. “I’ve seen it before. I just never realised how cute it was until now.”

“It’s not cute!” Changbin protested, shifting uncomfortably under their relentless scrutiny. His lips pulled into an involuntary pout, and he absentmindedly rubbed at his nose again in an attempt to quell the tenacious itch.

“Hold on, I need to see this.” Seungmin perched his chin on Jisung's shoulder, having left his seat beside Chan to join in on what felt like an act of public humiliation at this point.

Changbin gawked at him in disbelief, eyes wide. “Wha- no-what? There’s nothing to see!” His voice cracked slightly, and he nervously chewed on his bottom lip as he felt the heat spread across his cheeks. Why were they all so insistent on this?

Jisung, grinning from ear to ear, nudged Seungmin with his elbow. “You think if we talk about pollen or something, he’ll do it again?”

“Probably..” Seungmin mused, tilting his head in mock contemplation. “The power of suggestion.”

“Guys, stop–”Changbin said, his voice rising in protest, but it was too late.

As if on cue, his nose twitched and scrunched up again. Not followed by a sneeze this time, but it was just barely avoided.

The room practically exploded.

“OH MY GOD! THAT WAS ADORABLE!” Hyunjin shrieked, his hand clutching onto his chest as if he had just witnessed a life altering event. He seemed to have teleported across the room to join the group encircling Changbin's chair.

Felix threw his head back as he let out a delighted laugh, holding a hand to his stomach. “I CAN’T! Oh my god, Binnie- why is that so cute?!”

“I feel like I just witnessed something sacred...” Jisung said dramatically, wiping a fake tear from his eye as he leaned back into Seungmin for support.

Lee Know nodded with exaggerated solemnity. “Yeah, this moment ought to be cherished.” He said sagely, though the smirk on his face betrayed his amusement as he watched Changbin wither away under the weight of his own embarrassment.

“It really is like a little bunny!” Felix gasped in awe between bouts of laughter, and the others quickly followed suit with an eruption of giggles, coos and agreements. The staff seemed to be just as humoured by the situation as his members, much to Changbin's dismay.

Hyunjin was practically tripping on his feet with excitement, whipping his phone up from his pocket and pointing it directly at the red faced man who was held captive in his chair.

“I need this documented.” The dancer stated, his eyes locked on Changbin as he stared at him through the camera. “Pretty please, Binnie? Just one more time?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Come on, just think about pollen again.” Seungmin teased, crossing his arms over his chest with a taunting expression. God, Changbin wanted to wipe that smug smirk right off his face.

Changbin shot Seungmin a glare that was supposed to be fierce, but the effect was entirely lost. His red, watery eyes and the way he kept sniffling every other second robbed him of any intimidation he might have had.

Safe to say, hay fever didn’t render him a very threatening sight.

“I will fight you.”

But just as the challenge left his lips, the inevitable happened. As the itch rushed through his sinuses, his nose scrunched up once more, completely out of his control.

Hyunjin must have gasped loud enough to be heard into the next room, undoubtedly capturing the moment with his phone camera. “OH MY–”

“That was the best one yet!” Jisung wheezed, turning around to grip onto Seungmin's arm for support as he doubled over with laughter.

Seungmin cackled out that evil laugh of his, giving Changbin a light slap on the back. “Oh, this is incredible.”

Lee Know leaned in to peer at Hyunjin's phone screen with a sly smirk. “I’m gonna need that in slow motion.”

“Put it in a loop!” Jeongin chimed in, bubbling with laughter as he hovered beside them.

Changbin groaned, burying his face in his hands and slouching forward in defeat. “I hate you all.”

“No, you don’t.” Jeongin snorted softly, clearly revelling in Changbin’s discomfort a little too much for his liking. Damn him.

Changbin looked up at their maknae with a deadpan expression, sighing deeply with a mixture of exasperation and resignation.

He was right. He didn’t.

Felix, noticing just how mortified Changbin was, softened his gaze. He reached out for a box of tissues, grabbing a couple and handing them over to the sniffly rapper. “Aww, Binnie, don’t be embarrassed” he said softly, offering him a warm smile. “We just think you're cute~”

“Yeah, we’re just teasing.” Chan supplied, extending his arm out to give Changbin’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “We’re not trying to make fun of you, really.”

The room died down from the burst of laughter, leaving only a few small chuckles between the lot of them.

Chan’s expression shifted, his eyes flickering between the clock on the wall and Changbin. “More importantly, how are you feeling? Are you going to be okay for the interview?”

Changbin hesitated, a little taken aback by the sudden shift from teasing to concern. He still felt congested, his sinuses throbbing and the faint tickle was steadily getting more invasive... but it was just allergies.

Besides, he wasn’t entirely miserable yet, just annoyingly flustered to top it all off.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine.” Changbin mumbled, dabbing at his nose with a tissue as he considered it. Then, he doubled over, pressing his face into the tissue as his shoulders tensed again.

“Hh’TSCHH! Hhh’CHUUh!”

This time, there was actually no laughter or amused teasing. Instead, Changbin felt hands patting his back soothingly and Felix giving his thigh a gentle squeeze.

After a brief silence, Hyunjin couldn't keep himself from letting out a soft “Aww.”

“No.” Changbin raised his finger at him in warning, snuffling softly as he wiped his nose again. “Don’t start.”

“I wasn’t going to say anythi-“

“We can ask for a short delay if you need a minute.” Lee Know cut in sharply, squinting his eyes at Hyunjin as he silently told him off.

Changbin huffed out a small chuckle, shaking his head dismissively. “No, I’ll be okay, promise.” He reassured, managing a faint smile as he straightened up again. He was a little touched by their sudden sincerity. They weren’t just teasing him, after all, they genuinely cared. “But…thanks guys, really”

“Don’t mention it.” Chan pat his shoulder one last time before settling back in his chair. “Alright everyone, let’s get the hair and makeup wrapped up, we’re supposed to start in under 5 minutes.”

As the others scurried back to their seats, Jeongin stepped forward to hand Changbin a water bottle, his lips still carrying an amused smile despite the thoughtful gesture. “Here, at least drink something before we go in. You sound a little stuffy..”

Changbin took the bottle with a small, grateful smile, feeling a warmth spread through his chest. Even with all the teasing, he knew his members always had his back. “Thanks, Innie.”

“We’ll cover for you if you need us to, but you already know that.” Felix assured him casually, his smile ever so warm and comforting.

Changbin nodded softly and took a sip of his water, peering back up at his designated makeup artist with a mix of bashfulness and anticipation.

Despite the attention and teasing his little nose scrunch had garnered, Changbin couldn’t bring himself to be mad at her for inadvertently causing the ruckus. She clearly hadn’t meant any harm by it.

Instead, he leaned back in his chair and tried to relax his shoulders, giving her a small smile. “You’ll make me look presentable at least.. Right, noona?”

The makeup artist, clearly unfazed by the earlier scene, met his gaze with a sly grin. She was already rifling through her supplies again, preparing for a quick but precise touch-up.

“Of course, Changbin-ah.” She replied naturally, her voice full of confidence. “Your allergies are no match for my skills.”

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