AAAAAH THIS TOOK SO LONG!!!!!!!!!! But It’s Done!!!!!!!!! Ngl I Started Thinking About My Grandmas

OH MY I KXHSAGUAHAVSBSVHSWHSBSVGS WHEN WILL I EXPERIENCE SHIT LIKE THIS KWGabavs

19 | now we wait

raised the bar !

masterlist / prev - next

synopsis yn thought she finally escaped the perpetual doom of placing 2nd after she graduated high school. but alas! the leaderboard has her name printed under another’s! a name she thought she’d never get to see again. better luck next time, i guess.

a/n: hey just a reminder that yn, scara, hu tao, venti, and childe all know/are well acquainted each other during highschool. i feel like some of u forgot and might be confused as to why venti has childe's number. the only person among the "met-in-highschool" gang who isn't close with anyone is scaramouche (besides childe of course) meaning yn, childe, hu tao, and venti are friends 👍👍

i will post the narration later this day!

{ ⚖︎ } taglist — @iwziu @nejibot @thenightsflower @crowbird @scaramouchekink @bleedingwhiteroses222 @dksfl920 @sevynnee @hangezoessidehoe @lunaflvms @ifelloutofbed @aerasoline @cloud-emoji-exe @platinumuse @lovelyiez @yolotokyoo @katsumikumo @elysiasbae @kiwinfinity @retrogobrrrr @heizoussidebadonkers @plutoslostagain @rizakari @leeis @miissfortune @kiyowoir @llghtsnoww @cotton-eee @spookyrule @kanaqwqbear @ittakestw0totango @plinkuro

if your username isn't darkened like the others that means i unfortunately can't tag you

If you want to be part of the taglist, just reply, dm, or ask!

“hmph, those words almost make you sound like a friend who actually cares.”

❀ 20 TIMES IN 10 YEARS | TOKYO REVENGERS

— shinichiro’s love for her doesn’t change, even throughout the years

🥛 — sano shinichiro ( + sano siblings, black dragons)

🧾 — female reader, second pov (you/your), cursing, fluff, pining, hurt no comfort, angst, canonical character death, au - canon divergence, imagine

✉ — eventual angst at the end because of course. maybe i’ll write a full fanfiction to expound this, maybe i won’t. also, i’ll try to remember to write sister, sister in izana’s pov soon

🔖 — inspired by this

The first time he confessed to you, he was barely fourteen years old and running a rising gang named Black Dragons. Everyone who had heard of his name had all thought that he was some tall, broad, male with a lean body who can defeat anyone that dares to defy him.

Your first thought of Sano Shinichiro was that he’s a dork.

Keep reading

introducing: tenjiku baseball team!

(mixed hair style from different timeline www)

yours truly,

yours truly, (part one). / sincerely, (part two).

premise: as a friend of the most attractive students in school, you're more than used to acting as the middleman between them and the people vying for their affection, often tasked with delivering presents or handing out their love letters. however, when you chance upon a small bouquet of flowers on your desk without a note indicating the sender or who you're meant to give it to, you start to wonder if this one's supposed to be yours.

includes: childe, xiao, diluc, kazuha, albedo, thoma & gorou !

a/n: hahaha why is this so long... anyways this is a college au + reverse harem of some sorts. enjoy. i really don't want this one to flop so likes and reblogs are appreciated thx

“Do you think it's a prank?”

“Why is that the first thing that pops into your mind?” Keqing sighs as she fixes her makeup in front of a compact mirror, smacking her lips to spread the color evenly. “You're really cute, [Name]. why wouldn't someone like you by now?”

Your face burns at the offhand comment. “You're only saying that because we're friends.”

Ayaka giggles, twirling a lock of your hair with her finger. “Of course not. You're very adorable! If anything, it'd be more surprising if nobody likes you.”

“Who do you think it's from, though?” Ganyu quietly asks from beside you, observing the handful of carnations laying on your desk. Scanning the students currently present in the room, she thoughtfully adds, “maybe someone on the shyer side since they couldn't give it to you directly?”

“Or someone who did it to be romantic,” Kokomi suggests, scrutinizing the flowers with keen eyes. “That's quite nice of them.”

You hummed in contemplation, trying to figure out who placed it on your table. “Are you sure it's not a prank... or a mistake? You all sit beside me, so maybe they mistook my seat for yours-”

“You're the only one who faithfully sits there, [Name]. We don't even have assigned seats so most of us sits wherever,” Keqing clarifies, staring at you with a disapproving look. “Don't deny it. You know it's yours.”

“But I can't think of anyone who would like me!” you exclaim in defeat. “I am curious about who gave it, though... I should try to find out who it is...”

“More importantly...” Ganyu smiles at you, noticing the blush dusting your cheeks. “Who do you want it to be?”

childe:

in all honesty, he's your first guess.

not because you think he likes you or anything! he's just a huge flirt.

at the beginning of the school year, you hardly got along. you know he's a friendly guy, but it's in the way that... intimidated you. he's part of the “mood maker” clique, attracting attention wherever he goes, and you're not sure if you could handle his energy...

you preferred to stay away from the spotlight though that's a bit hypocritical considering you're friends with the prettiest group of girls in your year, and he relished in it. you didn't know if you could get along.

you didn't become friends until you were assigned partners for a project that meant a lot for your grade, and you vowed to yourself if you couldn't be close to him, you should at least be close enough to work together without trouble.

in the end, you surprisingly hit it off, childe easing the awkward air between you with jokes and random stories to tell about his weird friends. your friendship didn't end when the project did, and you continued to hang out outside of school. you're sure he didn't approach you to get closer to your friends, either; though you had some doubts at first, he was nothing alike with the jerks who tried to use you.

you're no stranger to the pranks he pulled, nor were you unaware of his flirty nature; he occasionally entertained the lot who fancied him when he attended drinking parties. so it made perfect sense if it was childe who gave those flowers, along with the gifts that followed after. it would just be him messing around again, right? oh, definitely! it wouldn't be the first time he spent his money in reckless abandon, bragging that he has the cash to spare for it.

but unexpectedly when you bring up the topic, his expression darkens, showing no sign of joking around. he looks a little shocked, too, to know someone was pursuing you.

“it's not from me,” he admits, gently taking your hand. “but it's true that i like you.”

xiao:

xiao is one of the people you deliver presents to lol

due to his intimidating disposition (and the endless amount of nasty rumors swirling about him, thanks to said intimidating disposition), hardly anybody would dare to approach him, daunted by the perpetual scowl etched on his face. he remains as eye candy, but an entity no one could reach.

you avoided him at first, too. his face is admirable, you can say that much, but you've become somewhat desensitized from having been surrounded by pretty faces 24/7 so you can't really say it's anything new... and yes, you are scared of him to a certain degree. you could never guess what he's thinking.

you weren't sure if he's as scary as people make him out to be though, since people tend to exaggerate gossip for the sake of shock value. he once defended a middle schooler from high school delinquents (through persuasion and not with fists), but the story somehow twisted into another tale entirely detailing how xiao had brutally wiped the floor with their faces and painted the concrete floor with blood...

but as intimidating as he might seem, you don't think he's that kind of character. if you overlook his piercing glare and sharp tongue, he's quite decent.

... you thought that way until you caught him tailing you on your way home.

he crept up behind you, maintaining a natural distance, but after numerous twists and turns in hopes of leading him away, he had yet to cease heading towards your direction. you wouldn't be so suspicious if you hadn't purposely gone in circles around town, leading back to where you came from — which meant he didn't have a particular destination in mind, and fully intended on being hot on your tail.

tired of having bated breath waiting for his next move, you gathered all your courage and confronted him directly, cornering him to the nearest wall to assert dominance. xiao seemed startled by your forwardness, and you took his moment of vulnerability as an opportunity to interrogate him.

unexpectedly, he sheepishly confesses, “i'm not a stalker, i got worried since you're going home this late. haven't you heard about the crime rate these days...”

from there on, you suppose you could say you understood him better. though he's snappy and stern, he's not that terrifying, even sweet at times. when you become proper friends (and you stop suspecting him as your stalker), he saves you a seat next to him, or brings you coffee that you like when he notices you're sleepy in class.

it wasn't long until everybody came to know you were friends and a girl finally — you guessed it — asked you to send a love letter to xiao in her stead.

when you gave it to xiao, he was unusually flustered, flushed pink to the tips of his ears. his expression falls flat once you tell him it's from someone else, badly containing the disappointment to show on his face.

nevertheless, you continue to be friends, and xiao has learned not to expect much from you.

he's the earliest to arrive in class, so you ask him if he'd seen the person who gave you flowers. with a cold, hard look, he says no.

he's acting kind of weird, isn't he...

diluc:

the barista in the coffee shop near your university that has to put up with so much bullshit flirting everyday.

he has to reject people in a roundabout way, and you know he hates it, but of course he has to provide great customer service if he still wants customers right... directly breaking their hearts would only make problems.

but he takes no shit from rude customers.

no, you weren't one of them. in fact, diluc quite liked you a bit. first of all, you don't have any romantic interest for the staff, you genuinely enjoy his drinks (he knows because your face is like an open book), and you mind your own business. he tolerates you enough that he can make small talk with you and it doesn't upset him in the slightest.

so it really ticked him off when some idiot was bothering you in the cafe, starting an argument over a trivial matter that shouldn't be fussed over.

in normal circumstances, diluc would've done the usual protocol — reason with the angry customer, offer free products, and let them leave the premises peacefully. but the moment he saw the man grab your shoulders and you winced in pain as a result, he didn't even have to think of what to do next.

cold coffee rained down on the ill-mannered man's head, evoking a surprised scream out of him. his fingers left your body in favor of patting away the sticky liquid from his clothes, and you stared blankly at the seething figure behind him.

“your order,” diluc announced, his voice tinted with rage. then he pretended to remember something, looking at the empty cup in his hand. “oh, i apologize. you ordered it hot, didn't you?” he forced a smile on his face. “would you like me to brew another one for you?”

the man erupted to a new screaming fit, but he was promptly dragged aside. diluc immediately questioned if you were hurt anywhere, his voice a total 180 from before and turning into a soft tone you nearly didn't recognize.

“that stunt you pulled...” you nervously said. “will you be okay...? won't you get, er, dismissed because of it?”

“...you don't know i own this place?”

“???”

in any case, you've become good friends ever since that incident. so when your secret admirer gives you your customized drink from diluc's shop (that even xiao doesn't know the recipe of!), you ask him if there's a customer who ordered your exact drink that morning.

strangely enough, he changes the subject.

“he only gave you coffee?” diluc wrinkles his nose. “he's not fit for you.”

he proceeds to shove you a plate of pancakes for breakfast and won't let you talk about that topic again.

kazuha:

the soft-spoken boy working part-time as a florist. as one would expect, his good-looking features attracted customers left and right, just like how a flower allures bees with its colorful petals and sweet nectar.

he studies in a different university from you, but it's relatively close by and you run into each other a lot. you could say you're pretty good friends; you exchanged contact information and text every other day, phone each other up to have a meal together whenever you're both free, and hang out over the weekend.

he stirred up some drama with you once. on a rainy day, he invited you to eat lunch together, but you've forgotten to take an umbrella before leaving for school so you told him you'd be a little late 'cause you had to run to the convenience store first. however, he told you not to worry about it and abruptly ended the call.

fast forward to the afternoon: the glass doors to leave the corridors had a few people lurking by, covering what was beyond. you cocked up an eyebrow in question, confused over what was all the fuss, but then you see that familiar pale hair streaked with bright red.

kazuha stood innocently by the school gates, a crimson umbrella in hand, and a small bouquet in the other. he checked his wristwatch every few minutes, seeming to be waiting for someone. he completely ignored the gawking stares pinned on his frame, busying himself by humming a quiet tune.

you hesitantly pushed open the doors, approaching him with wary steps. he immediately perked up once noticing you, beaming brightly to greet you with enthusiasm. he offered you the bouquet, telling you it's nothing more than a small gift the owner had let him craft for free (who mistakenly thought kazuha had a lover, since he was always on his phone texting someone).

you might have known the reasons behind the present, but nobody else did. and what general implications could gifting a bouquet of flowers have?

thus, the school's online forum exploded with questions, asking for the identity of the pretty boy standing by their university, and the lucky person he'd given flowers to.

needless to say it was hard to convince your friends that no, he isn't your boyfriend.

but that was another issue! the issue NOW is the other bouquet you received, much more recent in nature. after suspecting childe, your next thought was to ask kazuha if he had any buyers who purchased the same flowers you had.

his lips twitch for a moment, faintly looking displeased. but he flashes a flawless, award-winning customer service smile, covering his initial expression easily.

“no such customer ordered for those flowers that day. but i am curious about this matter... could you humor me and explain more in detail, by any chance?”

albedo:

the med student fawned over by students and teachers alike. he's simply brilliant, idolized by the entire student body. though he's mainly studying science, he's been praised for his art as well, his paintings hung in the art room proudly.

you're not very familiar with him, only knowing him through hearsay. you don't know what he looks like, so you've never confirmed for yourself if he's as beautiful everyone says he is.

he's well-known but you haven't heard anything bad about him, which is an impressive feat. his name is only ever mentioned in concert with endless compliments.

you meet him by chance in exam season. unsurprisingly, the library is filled to the brim, tables stacked high with books and each chair occupied by agitated students sipping energy drinks and coffee to stay functional. amidst all the chaos, one student remains radiant and carefree, leisurely flicking pages through his notes. he's situated by a corner table, unbothered by the mindless zombies despite having plenty of free seats beside him and everyone else is squished together like canned tuna.

and you, carrying binders, books and stationery, are visibly desperate for a place to rest. his eyes leave the words in his notes briefly, beckoning you to come closer. and you, still unaware of his identity, gladly plop on a chair and heave your heavy supplies atop the table. it shakes for a moment as it bears the new weight, rattling his items, and the zombies gape at you in question. ironically, the person you've been bothering is not offended at all.

you sneak glances at him when you need to freshen your eyes from studying, nauseated by the letters that never seem to come to an end no matter how many paragraphs you've read. you're at awe by his fair skin, not a single blemish in sight, and he doesn't even have dark circles under his eyes. truly mysterious. either he has a magical skincare routine or he's not human. if anything, you'd think he just came from a relaxing vacation, not in the middle of hell week.

you snap out of your trance, and you scold yourself for being bewitched. you have more pressing concerns, and so you grill more information into your brain, oblivious to the turquoise eyes that begin to stare at you.

the next encounter comes when exams are finally over, and you celebrate by buying the pricey food set in the cafeteria. the crunch of golden breading is rewarding for your taste buds and you shovel more food towards your mouth, minding your own business.

the seat next to you is pulled back, and you pause from chewing. it's that guy again, his refined beauty easy for you to recognize. he places his tray on the table, smiling amiably as he asks if it's fine with you should he sit there. you nod, but there's plenty of vacant tables around. it's also pretty weird that he sat next to you, not across...

well, strange as it is, that's how you befriend albedo. you've yet to learn why he came on so strong, almost aggressive. like he really wanted to talk to you. but whatever.

the more you learn about him, the more his image of “golden boy” withers away. picture of elegance? the standard of sophistication? sure. but this guy doesn't hesitate to do the weirdest shit sometimes.

he doesn't fear anything. he puts anything edible in his mouth. one school trip to the countryside taught you a few things. if he's offered fried bugs, he'll eat it. if he's given frog legs, he'll eat it. he doesn't care. he'll eat seemingly anything. because of this, you worry his admirers will put something strange in the food they give him, but that possibility doesn't cross his mind at all. (well. not that he eats it. he rejects gifts most of the time. exceptions are when they come from you.)

you're starting to think he really doesn't fear anything. when you start to scream in fright like a headless chicken while watching a horror movie, he calmly studies the anatomy of whatever horrifying creature is on screen, questioning their ability to walk when half of their body is split apart. why is he questioning horror movie logic. “ghosts are supposed to be transparent and can pass through walls, how come she can grab the main character's hair and drag him to the incinerator?” “albedo, please.” (he comforts you when you get scared, hiding your face in his shoulder as he wraps his arms around you. he softly whispers in your ear to tell you when the scary parts are over.)

he's also an overprotective older brother. for good reason, actually. his little sister, albeit cute and outwardly harmless, is an explosive child who likes to make trouble. if he takes his eyes off her for more than two minutes, she will undoubtedly set fire to his little garden.

she's the reason why he's so observant. he can tell you trimmed your hair because he's all too used to klee chopping off her own hair with craft scissors. he also notices when you feel a bit under the weather. klee is the type to hide her sickness so she could play outside, and albedo would often have to forcibly tuck her back to bed. you're no different. he will, quite literally, drag you to your house and make you rest.

but aside from being a pain in the ass, his observation skills can help you — surely albedo can make a few guesses for your secret admirer's identity?

albedo blinks at you, uncharacteristically silent. he purses his lips, and gives you a small smile. he asks a few unassuming questions, things like what traces your secret left behind, or if they'd sent a love letter and he'd check the penmanship to see if he found it familiar.

he's not the most eager to help, you know that, but you're still slightly disappointed when he says, “sorry, i can't help you with something like that. it'd be better if you figured it out yourself.”

thoma:

the cute neighbor living in the apartment next door. just like kazuha, he studies in a different university, but you run into each other a lot because... well. obviously.

you find him rather silly. he'd signed the lease not knowing pets weren't allowed in the premises, and tearfully waved taroumaru goodbye when he moved in. to cope, he started staying at the park near the apartment building, playing with the dogs there and getting hit on by their owners in the process, but let's not talk about that.

despite being a newcomer, he fit right in with the tenants. he made effort to learn everyone's names and chatted with them whenever presented a chance, thus winning their favor. it isn't a strange sight to see him with middle-aged ladies and looking at home, listening earnestly to their complaints about their husbands or rowdy children. (his hard work pays off when they give him their special recipes and inform him of supermarket deals lol)

he seems to get along well with old men too, invited to their drinking parties. except thoma isn't good at rejecting alcohol from older adults, so when you save him from such situation — pulling him away from the old men prying into his love life, because surely a good kid like him would have someone to love him dearly — he's become eternally grateful.

he's honestly too good for his own good.

exhibit a: thoma is prone to cooking too much food for one person to eat in one sitting, so he tends to invite you to eat his hotpot with him or bring you packaged food you can easily pop into a microwave. after your one act of goodwill, he's become strangely attached to you, pronouncing you best buds. he then admits he used to live with a larger group of people (hence his cooking habits), and he's thankful for your company. (you'd argue you're getting the better end of the deal, receiving free food like this)

exhibit b: he's always available to help you in your troubles. need a hand with heavy groceries? he's on his way! ran out of soy sauce? just wait a bit, he's gonna grab some from the cupboard! forgot your key inside your apartment? then stay at his place for the meantime before the locksmith comes! your shower isn't working well?... he promises he won't peek in the bathroom, so feel free to take a bath h a h a h a. need someone's opinion on what outfit to wear for a date? sure, he's- wait.

YOU'RE GOING ON A DATE?

his face twists weirdly as you showcase two different shirts, asking which one he likes better. you raise an eyebrow when he doesn't dare to utter a single word. “are they both bad?”

he blinks rapidly, then shakes his head laughing. he half-heartedly points to the shirt in your left hand, but you can tell he doesn't really think much of it. he excuses himself fairly quickly, saying he had chores to do, and scurried back to his own home.

(you were only going to a date with ayaka's older brother because she insisted you both needed a love life, but it's not like you actually feel anything for him.)

it doesn't end there. thoma acts weird sometimes. he's strangely cold when he sees you inviting kazuha to your apartment to hang out. he also stiffens when he spots xiao walking you home.

but by far, he acted the weirdest when your phone number called him, but when he answered, he heard a different voice respond.

it's childe, whom you went drinking with. he doesn't know where you live, and you're not nearly sober enough to return home on your own, and it's not like you'll agree to staying over childe's house. you also refuse telling him your address, so childe is left with no choices but to call for someone he knows.

he uses your fingerprint to unlock the password in your phone, heading straight for your contact list, and dialed thoma.

it doesn't take long for thoma to arrive where you are, panting after running for a while, and childe is almost impressed. thoma hoists you up and you obediently wrap your arms around him.

“sorry for the trouble. [name]'s dead drunk as you can see,” childe comments, chuckling to himself. thoma doesn't look amused and replies with, “it's no trouble at all. i'd be glad to help [name] anytime.”

then in a way that almost seems possessive, thoma leaves childe behind.

so now when you arrive home, bouquet in your arms, red dusting your features, thoma is displeased once more.

(yet he is envious of those who can freely profess their affections, because he's certain if he were to ever admit his feelings to you, things can never be the same.)

gorou:

you first suspected childe because you thought the bouquet of flowers was a joke, but if it wasn't and it was real with the intentions of sweeping you off your feet...

then you might have another suspect in mind.

gorou is... a funny guy. can you put it like that? you don't know what to think of him. he's nice, you already know that very well, kokomi's good friends with him and told you a few stories about him, all of which are sweet and amusing. your first impression of him was that of a pure-hearted boy that can do no wrong.

he's younger than you by a year, and kokomi was fairly excited when she first told you he would be attending the same university soon. she promised to introduce you to him in hopes you'd be friends as well.

and okay, you could get behind that. there's nothing wrong with meeting new people. gorou sounded like a great guy too, and it'd be nice to take care of someone younger. you've been coddled by your seniors the past year as a freshman, and you thought it would only be right if you did the same to the new batch of students.

so you attended the welcoming party kokomi dragged you into. it was just a small gathering to get the freshmen familiarize themselves with older students, and she told you you'd get to meet gorou there, her eyes carefully scanning the crowd in pursuit of a specific face.

just as you were reminiscing over the past where your sadistic seniors encouraged you to drink a lot in the last welcoming party, shuddering in fright, kokomi tapped your shoulder and gestured to the brown haired boy standing before you.

it must be him. per courtesy, your lips curled into a practiced smile, exuding an amicable air. kokomi briefly exchanged a few words with him, but it looked like she was doing all the talking, the male frozen in spot as if he'd seen something strange.

he stared at you blankly, eyes slightly widened, and you slowly became unnerved with his vacant gaze, your smile faltering. you made eye contact with kokomi, silently questioning her, but she gave a subtle shrug of her shoulders, also confused by his behavior.

then, completely out of everyone's expectations, he'd dropped to the floor.

gorou had knelt on the ground with one steady knee, solemn in his endeavors. in an instant, your hand was seized, fingers enclosed in his warm palm. his piercing stare was impassioned, sincere at its core. heat shot up to the tips of your ears.

“marry me!”

his voice resounded in the entire room, earning unwanted attention. the chatter halted immediately, all eyes dedicated to the spectacle that was the both of you, and your mind began to spin, cold sweat dripping down your forehead.

your voice was caught in your throat, not knowing what to say, and all you could formulate was a garbled string of incoherent mess. undeterred, the grasp on your hand was unrelenting, gorou committed through this act until the very end.

everyone was thinking the same thing: we haven't even started drinking yet, but this little guy is drunk already??

shameless. crazy. a head with loose screws. you're probably the only one who'd describe gorou that way.

but what kind of sane man would say that upon first meeting???

kokomi quickly tried to mediate the situation for him, pulling him away and patting his back to knock him out of his dazed stupor, and pushed you to the farthest corner.

she vouched for him when she saw your puzzled expression, thinking of him as a weirdo, and she insisted he's normally not that odd. she swears he was never interested in dating before, and she isn't sure what changed for him to... propose... all of a sudden... to you, who he'd barely seen for ten seconds, no less.

naturally, it feels strange for you to see him. after that disastrous encounter, gorou — who did feel embarrassment for what he did, horrified at his own impulsiveness — tried to make amends, backtracking steps (he skipped way too many and immediately went to propose lol) and treating you normally like a friend of a friend, slowly trying to make the atmosphere between you casual instead of a freezing blizzard that kills off the amicable mood.

in spite of all that, however, you do feel as if his feelings are actually genuine. he can be clumsy, and incredibly so, you don't know who else could propose to another person within a span of a minute meeting them for the first time, but he means well! you started off on the wrong foot, and maybe this bouquet of flowers is him trying to curry your favor... or something...

yet all he gives is a disbelieving look, and that's enough to provide a clear answer: it's not from him, and he's upset.

it,, probably wasn't a good idea to ask someone who likes you about another person who likes you.

but if it isn't him, who else could it be?!

drop your guesses in the comments but im pretty sure it's already obvious lol

and then they shared a single brain cell

OH MY LORDDDDDDDD AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

16 | slowly rest your head on my shoulder. (1k words)

you sigh and smile in content. the last time you got to loosen up like this was when you got through your first year of college. it's been months since then and you find yourself here right now, enjoying with friends, your worries at the very back of your mind.

it's already past midnight, three in the morning. most of your companions scattered around the almost empty bar, passed out either on the floor or on one of the couches. but you see venti, kaeya, kazuha, and hu tao on one of the bar tables, still taking shots together. laughing and slurring at whatever they're talking about. you giggle slightly at them.

goodness, they have monster livers.

your mind is a little hazy but you're sober enough to be aware of your surroundings and remember everything that happened tonight. you didn't drink alcohol as much as the others did. you probably only had roughly a bottle of liquor. you can handle your alcohol well, but you chose to tone down your intake this time. considering that there are other people accompanying your friend group today, you didn't want to embarrass yourself in front of them.

you stand up from where you're sitting and decide to head outside the bar, wanting to get some fresh air.

in the dim staircase, you see the silhouette of someone at the end, sitting on the curb of the street. (the bar is underground and the entrance is a staircase, if you didn't get the picture) you jog your way up the stairs and stop just behind the person.

you realize that it's scaramouche.

you didn't want to admit it, but you secretly kept looking for him inside the bar when he disappeared somewhere. not only was he late but he only stayed with the group for an hour or two before disappearing by himself. he didn't even interact with his friends much, just quietly drinking in the corner of the bar. when you realized that he was nowhere in sight, you just assumed that he went home by himself.

so this is where he went.

you study him. he's facing the quiet street, holding a shot glass and a bottle beside him.

you make your presence known by coughing slightly. "is this how antisocials hang out when they go to a bar with their friends?”

he turns his head to look at you. he let's out a breath, almost like a laugh, and smirks lazily. "what, missed me already?"

"you wish. i just came out for fresh air." you make a move to sit down beside him on the curb, the bottle of liquor between the two of you.

"you're kind of a moron. but i know you can get there."

you suddenly remember his words earlier today. after the debate, you've been thinking about your view of him ever since he said those words of comfort to you. if it were any other person who said them, you would've laughed at their bad effort of trying to be supportive.

but those words came from him. which made them completely different and special. knowing him, it was the best consolation he could give to someone and, most especially, to you.

so you begin to see him in a new light. perhaps he's not as bad of a person as you thought. perhaps he doesn't actually think you're below him. you think that maybe his way of friendship is through offending people but with no actual malice. or perhaps he just doesn't know how to approach people normally.

but all of those are mere speculation in your perspective. you realize that you can't get to know him properly if you keep pushing your petty grudge on him.

moments pass with just the two of you sitting there saying nothing.

"we did good." you slur slightly, the tiredness that your body felt is now only settling. "i wonder why we didn't get partnered for debates at all back in highschool. not that i wanted to, though."

he stares at you for a second before explaining, "i organized the debates in a way for us to always be on separate teams. being pres had its perks."

you notice that he didn't slur his words at all. how many bottles did he have? you wonder.

"are you not drunk at all?" you ask.

"i can hold my liquor." much to xiao's disappointment "what? thought you could catch me slipping?"

"kind of."

"never." he laughs slightly.

although he did say that, it's quite obvious that he's out of it to some extent. he's snarky, but his remarks are more lighthearted than usual. or maybe he's just too tired to start his usual arguments with you. who knows.

he grabs the bottle between the two of you, uncapping it to refill his glass.

he's so passive right now that you find it weird.

once he's done filling his shot glass, he hands you the bottle that still has one shot worth of liquor in it. "you can finish it. i've had enough."

you accept it, "you sure you didn't drink from this bottle?"

he looks at you boredly. "why do you think i have a glass with me?"

"just making sure." you shrug and down what's left of the bottle in one go. scaramouche follows you and takes his shot.

you cough at the bitter taste, squinting slightly as you take in the alcohol. you place the bottle back down beside you. you sniff and wipe your face with your sleeve.

you sigh heavily and rest your head on your palm. you feel your muscles relax and your eyes start to droop out of exhaustion. your head swaying slightly, trying to keep it upright.

you take a sleepy glance at scaramouche only to find him already staring at you.

"you look ugly." he says.

"and you have a bowlcut..." you mumble back.

you finally let yourself succumb to sleep. so out of it that you don't feel his hand slowly guiding your head to his shoulder.

you two sit there, side by side, with you dozing off. silence engulfing you both and street lights illuminating your features.

a peaceful and intimate moment with only the moon as your witness.

and as you continue to drift in your dreamland, passed out and unaware of your surroundings, you don't hear the quiet mutter under his breath that's forever lost to the soft breeze of the cold morning.

"you did good today. i'm proud of you."

raised the bar !

masterlist / prev - next

synopsis yn thought she finally escaped the perpetual doom of constantly placing 2nd after she graduated high school. but alas! the leaderboard has her name printed under another’s! a name she thought she’d never get to see again. better luck next time, i guess.

a/n: just some of their instagram story highlights! because is it really a social media au if there aren't irl ulzzang photos 😭

anw that's a wrap for the act one of this smau!! the next updates will continue on act two which will focus more on yn and scara's development and will reveal more about their struggles and stories since act one focused more on introducing the characters and their dynamics.

{ ⚖︎ } taglist — @iwziu @nejibot @thenightsflower @crowbird @scaramouchekink @bleedingwhiteroses222 @dksfl920 @sevynnee @hangezoessidehoe @lunaflvms @ifelloutofbed @aerasoline @cloud-emoji-exe @platinumuse @lovelyiez @yolotokyoo

if your username isn't darkened like the others that means i unfortunately can't tag you

If you want to be part of the taglist, just reply, dm, or ask!

lights, camera, action!

premise. in which you get yourself involved in a lot of unscripted drama. (genshin celebrity au.)

includes. xiao, childe, albedo, ayato, scaramouche, thoma & kazuha.

previous episode. watch here.

note. the long-awaited sequel nobody actually waited for lmao. please read part 1 if you still haven't! this entire fic would be incomprehensible otherwise :'D

四 ; ayato, the cannon fodder

although xiao is, with absolute certainty, regarded as your definite favorite celebrity in your heart, ayato comes a close second.

he's a modern day prince; if anyone were asked to say which male lead they liked best, you can guarantee their answer would be among one of his roles.

he played a lot of characters—a school heartthrob, a ceo, a bar owner, and even an actual prince for a snow white retelling. each one with stellar execution, as you'd expect from an actor of his caliber.

so it is to your absolute horror to find him casted in this production as a minor villain. the one that happens to (futilely) seduce the journalist to bed, no less!

is he asking to get his image destroyed?! which... actually does make sense. he's already been typecasted as the “prince” type of male lead, and you can guess how frustrating that can be. it must suck to play one persona over and over, mindlessly spouting recycled lines; not much room for creativity there.

but he's had different roles too, of course. one that stuck to your mind is another murder mystery, a film focusing on the death of a family head. the power struggle for the place of successor isn't a secret even to the public, and the prime suspects are primarily composed of the victim's relatives who stand to benefit from the family head's death.

ayato played the role of the first son, believed to be the one most likely to inherit the riches. which means the sooner the family head dies, he gets to have all the assets. he's suspicious due to his probable motive, but overly so that it's too obvious; ironically enough, this leads the audience to think he definitely couldn't be the killer.

except he is exactly that, but for a reason nobody would expect. rather than greed, the first son murdered his father for driving his biological mother to madness due to abuse and then sent her to a psychiatric ward, where she eventually died. he took in a second wife, a woman only after his money, who kept on pressuring her husband to make her daughter his successor.

contrary to popular belief, ayato's character didn't loathe his step-sister. in fact, he cared about her quite a bit, and his hate for his father grew whenever he scorned her for being “lacking” or “good for nothing.” his scummy personality led to his demise.

in the end, the step-mother was wrongly arrested, and the true murderer wasn't revealed until after the credits, where ayato was shown sitting at his father's desk and laughing to himself, followed by a scene detailing how the actual murder took place and how he tricked the investigators successfully.

the contrast between his acting as a shallow young master and a cunning mastermind had been praised by many. to tell the truth, you don't know how he was typecasted as a prince when he's clearly more suited for “villain” roles.

...even so, his current role isn't anything like the previous one! a cannon fodder and a genius murderer are nowhere near alike! he's only there to make the protagonist jealous and his character is fated to die one week after the scene with the journalist!

you suppose your disbelief must've shown on your face when each actor's respective role was announced because he couldn't help but chuckle when he looked at you.

“...by any chance, did you audition for the murderer role? because- it's hard to believe that-” you struggle to piece together words, rambling while ayato is busy signing his autograph on your phone case. (as luck would have it, you don't have paper on you. you said he could sign the back of your shirt but he politely declined, insisting the shirt would get dirty like you aren't planning to get it framed on your bedroom wall and declare it your heirloom.)

you don't even feel shy talking to him from the sheer incredulity of the situation. ayato only laughs as he hands you your phone case. “i did. but it turned out getting a minor role is a good thing since i'm planning to be on vacation soon.”

“oh. that's understandable, then...” barely. you still have complaints about it. as an actor, you respect the director's decisions, but as a loyal fan, you oughta give him a talking to and demand to give your idol the role he deserves.

“do you dislike it?”

your brows knit together, eyes momentarily leaving your now prized phone case to glance at him. “dislike what?” dislike that you're treated like this? that you have to act as a brainless villain? that you don't get much screentime? then fuck yeah.

“dislike that you're going to do that scene with me.” almost bashful, he leans closer to whisper to your ear. “you know. the one in the hotel.”

all the blood in your body rushes to your cheeks. impishly, ayato's lips curl into a smile of mischievous nature, a far cry from the elegant simper he usually holds. “i... that isn't what i... no, i mean it's not that i don't like you as my partner, but- but-!”

sufficiently entertained by your fumbling, he stops being mean and lightly pats the top of your head. “let's both do our best. truthfully, i'm not the most adept with bedroom scenes, but if you need help, you can always rely on me.”

rely how exactly?!

...

“is it too tight?”

“um... a little.”

“okay. is this better?”

“yes. am i too stiff?”

“mhm, a bit. you don't have to be nervous. it's just me.”

ah yes. it's just THE kamisato ayato pinning you down your bed, breathing down your neck, moments away from stealing your lips. nothing to worry about, clearly.

he adjusts his grip on your wrists, loosening it to your liking. his character is meant to push you down forcibly, but of course he doesn't want to actually harm you during filming—to prepare before the shoot, practice is of utmost importance. you have to give the illusion of an aggressive assault when in reality he's handling you like a piece of glass.

but you're doing this right after a day's work, and you have to blame your stupid mouth for running off without command and casually asking him if he could visit your apartment to go over the scene. in late hours of the night. in what can be interpreted as a much more scandalous suggestion.

thankfully, you're not dealing with childe so you're spared from wiggling eyebrows or phrases with flirty implications.

but him being ayato doesn't make it any easier.

“don't you feel embarrassed making out on screen...?” you laugh awkwardly in an attempt to ignore the weird tension in the air, slightly overwhelmed by his intense gaze. “i know you've done this several times, but i imagine the awkwardness never wears off.”

“not quite,” he agrees. “but a job is a job... i say that, but i'd like to make it comfortable for you, if possible. how are you faring? do you need a break?” he sits up, allowing more distance in the space between you. you shake your head.

“i'm fine. just... nervous. it's my first time doing a bedroom scene...” you look off to the side, staring at the lights beyond your window. though you're in the comfort of your own room, having an unfamiliar man on your bed makes it all feel so strange.

...as you thought, it really was weird to invite a co-actor to your bed! eh? would booking a hotel be better? but isn't it overboard to go to a hotel for practice? inviting him to your apartment is equally as bad, though?!

“all the cameramen watching can be pressuring,” he adds in afterthought, releasing one of your wrists only to pin them with a single hand. you flinch a little when his fingers skim over your cheek, but you slowly relax into the heat. “it's best if you try to forget about them.”

“i'm afraid that's easier said than done,” you murmur, voice growing weaker as he leans down once more.

“really? i consider myself a decent kisser.” he grins, sly and confident. “i'm certain i can keep other things off your mind for a while.”

“wh- i'm not supposed to enjoy it, remember?!” you squawk indignantly with flushed cheeks.

“oh? my bad.” he relishes in your reaction, chuckling lowly. “you'll have to work hard acting like you don't like it, then.”

his lips hover above yours, breaths mingling with each other. the proximity catches you off guard but his hand is a steady weight holding you in place, urging you to look at him.

“don't think about anyone else. just focus on me.”

五 ; scaramouche, the best friend

“fantastic. i was also looking forward to a drama adaption but you've already ruined it for me.”

“that's not nice! you're supposed to congratulate me for passing the audition!”

“my courtesy towards you has already expired 5 years ago.”

“yes. you've made that very apparent.”

“have i also made my ire apparent? it's like the universe is telling me seeing you everyday isn't enough, i have to see you on television too. frankly, we see too much of each other.”

“you say that but you're the one coming over my apartment uninvited.”

“this is where i store my beer.”

scaramouche has a perfectly functional fridge so you know he's only doing that as an excuse. he's been this way for 8 years. (of course, he'd only been storing milk at your house when you were both still underage.)

(the milk didn't do any favors for his height, unfortunately.)

his words are as harsh as ever but believe it or not, he's your closest friend. not that he'd ever admit it, even at gunpoint. it's a feat you should add to your resume, honestly, because as far as you know, you're one of the few people he doesn't hate.

he tolerates you enough that he can practice your lines with you (with enough pressure), though he delivers his part of the script with such dispassion it makes it difficult for you to get into the mood. but in his own brand of patience, he lets you reiterate your lines an endless amount of times until you feel like you get it right.

he helps you with expressions too, albeit in a manner you find hard to appreciate.

“you look like you're constipated, not about to cry.”

“your jaw is hanging open. want to catch a fly with your tongue? act like you caught your husband cheating, not like you're about to eat half my burger when you said you'd only take a bite.”

(personal grudges were involved.)

he's not interested in the film industry at all, but he was the one who pushed you to pursue your dreams when everyone else was discouraging you from taking an unstable career. he's your pillar of support; even if he's glaring at you scathingly or giving cutting words matter-of-factly, he's all bark and no bite. the moment you shed tears, he's already pulling you to his chest, remaining silent as he rubs comforting circles on your back. he doesn't even complain when you bury your face to hide in his neck, soaking his shirt with tears.

underneath all that layers, he's pretty nice.

(admittedly, you have to dig real deep.)

when you're smiling and happy, however, he takes the chance to complain. sneering, he blurts, “what's up with you taking roles in romance dramas all the time? besides, you're way too old to be in high school.”

“i still look fresh.” you batted your eyelashes at him, celebrating inwardly when he made a scandalized noise. “but i'm auditioning for a different role soon. if i get it, you'll see me as a murder victim instead of a high schooler.”

two weeks later, you get the e-mail confirming the love interest role. scaramouche goes so pale you consider taking him to the hospital.

“i know the journalist is your favorite character, but aren't you overreacting? do you hate me acting as them that much?”

he rolls his eyes so hard you almost think they're going to be permanently pointed heavenward. “are you stupid? that's not what i'm worried about. wouldn't you have to- you know- do that scene-”

“which one?”

“...the hotel scene...”

ah. well that certainly is a cause for concern. it's steamier than what you're used to; so far, you've only done light pecks or kisses that don't last too long. bedroom scenes are definitely foreign territory.

“i can only hope my partner is good-looking, then. i wouldn't mind it, if that's the case.” you laugh sheepishly, missing the way his eyes narrow in disapproval.

“...whatever. suit yourself.”

“don't tell me you still feel weird about kissing scenes?”

“i don't have issues with kissing scenes. i just don't want to see you sucking face on tv.”

“don't use that word! it's too vulgar!”

as part of work, it's inevitable you have to do a kissing scene here and there. scaramouche has never been fond of seeing them, turning away from the television or excusing himself to the bathroom whenever they come up. it's a reaction you can sympathize with; it is rather awkward to see your friend making out with someone on screen.

but he especially detests the old recording of your high school play.

long, long ago, you were part of the drama club. by association, scaramouche became a member as well—the pair of you were considered as a package deal. he was your practice partner so often that he got forced into joining.

he'd die before he ever tells anyone, but he had a knack for playing villains back then, specialized in wicked cackling and bone-chilling monologues reeking of depravity.

but in your final year, he got roped into playing the prince when the original actor sprained his ankle. incidentally, you happened to be playing the damsel in distress in your (pretty much unrecognizable) rendition of sleeping beauty.

“why is the prince shorter than-” before you could end your statement, he already slammed your face with the script.

the play was a hot mess. scaramouche couldn't play a decent prince for the life of him, so your club made the play a comedy and reworked the entire script to fit him better. the valiant and heroic character became satirical, forced into saving you not for love but to fulfill a prophecy that definitely wasn't in the original sleeping beauty.

the audience was taking the change well, intrigued by the bizarre twists and turns. the huffing-puffing prince was hilarious to watch, too.

it wasn't long before you laid in the casket, blinded by stage lights even with your eyes closed. the cardboard dragon had already been defeated, and the prince was fast approaching.

to your utter distaste, it was decided the prince would slap you awake. so you prepared for it when the last lines were being said, bracing for the stinging pain.

but then there was a rise in pitch, nearing to a yelp, then a loud thud, then the weight of two hands pressing on either side of your head, and-

your lips were touching something soft and warm.

the squeals and yells reverberated in the whole theater, the narrator stammering awkwardly and improvising ad libs last minute. your eyes snapped open and you'd gotten a front row seat to see scaramouche's blushing face, an explosion of pink dancing across his features.

after the play wrapped up and he peeled off the ridiculously frilly prince costume, he'd been set on destroying every record—alas, your friends weren't so keen on deleting such good footage. to this day, he still bristled at the thought of it; his and your first kiss showcased to hundreds of people.

it's harder to endure when he sees you kissing someone else, however. he never gets used to it, no matter how many times he tells himself to.

“oh, finally. it took so long for them to get together,” his co-worker groans as he watches the tv at the break room, airing the latest episode of the drama you star in. scaramouche glances at the screen, turning away when the camera flits to the boy with ashy brown hair. he's touching your face for the millionth time, bright teal eyes staring into yours so deeply scaramouche almost thinks he's actually besotted with you.

“you're not watching? i thought you liked this series?”

“i don't.”

for his own sake, he doesn't give the tv another glance, stepping out of the room.

this is fine. it's not the first time he's felt like this.

(it doesn't feel any less terrible.)

六 ; thoma, the former male lead

there are as many aspiring actors as there are stars in the sky; it's unfortunate only some of them shine brightly enough to be noticeable, and the rest twinkling weakly in miniscule dots.

for your case, and for your friend thoma's, you belong to the latter.

thoma is handsome, that much you can see with your own eyes, but a pretty face can be found anywhere in the industry—he lacks that special something that makes him stand out. that being said, you don't have it either, so you're on the same boat.

you're best pals, comrades in arms, partners in crime.

actual partners. once. for a romance drama.

(but not the main characters. just an obligatory side pairing, of course. you're the rebound for the second male lead.)

it was your first work, and you'd rather delete your existence than watch it again. hopefully, that also erases your dark history.

your... amateurish acting had been unsightly. the innocence you portrayed wasn't lovely, just a ghastly display of incoherent mumbling and lack of comedic timing. you wanted to tear apart each clip and toss it in some imaginary ditch where nobody can find it again.

thoma's performance wasn't as severe as yours. it wasn't half-bad, almost decent if not for the scant instances of awkwardness in scenes that required more emotional acting.

alas, the end product was just about what you expected; a series no one paid attention to. both a relief and a disappointment, because even if you hated it with every inch of your being, the effort you poured into practice and filming was real.

but after the drama ended, you kept in close contact with thoma, chugging down beer at dinners as you complained to each other about work. failed auditions, mistakes in filming, inability to get roles—you shared everything, and he did the same. each moment of embarrassment and each moment of breakthrough that called for a celebration, you told each other. through thick and thin, you had the other's back.

naturally, he was one of the first few people you called (second only to your manager) when you received the e-mail confirming your role as the love interest for arguably one of the most anticipated series to date.

he'd been overjoyed, above all, his elation overruling his surprise; it was a far cry from other violent reactions. (“are you sure it's not a prank?” scaramouche had said in disbelief.)

“you're finally going to be acknowledged!” gleefully, thoma chattered on, “that's the best news i've heard all year!”

and that was good. it was nice having his support. he'd been the one to give you a pep talk before you had to start rehearsals, soothing your fretful worries.

when you don't understand the essence of a particular scene, he's more than happy to help—“i'm just one call away!”

when you fumble your lines on camera, he laughs but not with mockery (a stark contrast to that little gremlin scaramouche)—“it's no big deal. you only have to do your best tomorrow.”

when you recount your experiences working with famous actors, he listens attentively—“you're starting to get along, huh?”

and then you would hesitate. it sounds like you're... bragging.

he says he's only one call away, but he's busy with his own work; still, he makes time for you. he listens whenever you complain, but he has bigger problems, ones that he doesn't say because he knows it'll dampen your mood. he has to hear about you acquainting with celebrities he can't even dream of meeting, like you're showing him the things he can't have.

you got lucky. what about him?

slowly, your face bleeds to commercials, advertisement banners, even huge outdoor LED displays on shopping malls featuring the drama cast—yet he remains as a blurry, nameless figure in the sea of aspiring actors.

he doesn't show it, doesn't even hint at it, but he must be... envious, right?

it's not hard to be. you've been in the industry for the same amount of time, began at the same starting line, yet only one of you found success, the other one left behind in the dust.

still. still. he never shows it. never stops being your biggest fan. never lets you think otherwise. he watches every episode, every interview. babbles how amazing your performance was in this scene. rambles how you did so well in this drama and he's so proud of you. smiles at how you have to wear a disguise now whenever you go out together so nobody can recognize you.

“it must be hard,” he comments as you hide in a secluded park, nearly getting found out by someone you noticed following you around. “you can't get around as freely anymore. are you okay? nobody follows you home or anything?”

always the worrier, you think. “of course not. my manager drives me around everywhere these days. you don't have to worry.”

thoma grins, plopping down at a bench. “that's a relief.”

for a moment, you just sit in silence, basking in the slight chilly air. the orange and pinks of sunset darken to streaks of blue, streetlights flickering to life.

“...did you know there are rumors of you dating xiao?”

you choke on air, coughing to your fist. “what?!” not that you feel flattered. not at all. (you've badgered xiao to come with you to the carnival last week, and then the waterpark a week before that with the rest of the cast, and- well. you suppose there's reason for people to speculate. you also wore matching animal headbands—how on earth you got xiao to do that, you're not sure either.)“why did that- how did it come to that?!”

“it's surprising for me, too,” thoma says. “if anything, i'd expect dating rumors with the actual male lead. or childe. he seems... particularly clingy.”

“albedo? there's no way he'd like someone like me.” you furrow your brows. if anything, it's only gotten awkward between the two of you ever since the confession scene. “ajax... well. i never know with him.” you honestly can't tell if he's flirting or not.

thoma laughs, eyes crinkling with mirth. “you look close with all of them. if i didn't know any better, i'd think you were acting a romance film outside of the project.”

you shudder. “if, and only if, i end up dating one of them, i'll attract all kinds of bad attention. it's not even good PR. i'd hate to think of all the fan girls who'll start cursing me, stealing their man and all that. hell, i'm not even dating anybody and i'm already being cursed.”

“i'll reply to every single mean comment and defend your honor.”

you snort. “do you even have the time for that?”

“...unfortunately, yes. i'm not receiving much work at the moment.”

oh.

fuck.

“i can... i can recommend you to the director. i heard he's starting a new project soon, so maybe-”

thoma frowns and you ground to a halt. “it's fine. i don't want you to do that for me.”

it sounds like you're pitying him. like you don't trust him to rise on his own.

but you want to help.

“is this why you look sad around me every so often?” he realizes, astonished.

“i... can't help but feel guilty,” you admit, unable to maintain eye contact. “every time i say a silly story about xiao, or ajax, or albedo, i feel like i'm showing off. every time i complain, you never try to compare, you only comfort me and never tell me about your problems. i want to do something for you, but i don't know what. i care about you, and i want you to do well because i know how talented you are. except everyone else doesn't, and i want them to see you.”

it's not fair. he's putting in the effort. the same as you are. but it's still not working out for him, and it's not fair.

“you... want to help me?”

you manage a weak nod. you hear an intake of breath, feel him shuffling closer. then he places his hand on top of your clenched fist.

“[name]. can you look at me?”

slowly, you raise your head. his green eyes are shining so brilliantly, bright emeralds gleaming in the moonlight.

yet they also seem... resigned.

“you're really nice, [name]. but you don't have to feel guilty. it's not your fault i'm still like this, and i'm already thankful you're worrying about me. i can't say that i was entirely... not jealous of what you have now, but that's just my problem. so you don't have to make that face, okay?”

he smiles, just like always. you open your mouth to respond, but then you feel that sensation again—that prickle at the back of your neck, the feeling that makes your hair stand on end.

“you're kind.” his hand cradles your cheek ever so softly, tenderly. your lashes tremble, like the flutter of a butterfly's wings. “that's why... i hope you can forgive me.”

this position is familiar. you know this, because you've experienced this before.

long long ago, just when you started your career, you'd practiced this scene with him in the dressing room—hearts pounding, hands awkwardly finding their places;

your lips brushing together in a shy kiss.

now, his fingers are carding through your hair, the closest he's ever been to you in years. you flinch, gripping his shirt, uncomprehending, and-

you hear it.

the shutter of a camera.

七 ; kazuha, the murderer

the first time you heard a complete newbie would act the murderer role, you were in disbelief.

alright, you were an unremarkable actor before your current role, but at the very least, you had experience. not only is this person entirely new to the industry, having nothing to show for himself, he's an amateur. it sounds like a recipe for disaster.

it's even more baffling when you discover ayato, THE kamisato ayato, tried for the role and didn't get it. who the hell is this newbie? someone who got in through nepotism? preposterous! the murderer is an incredibly important character to the plot, the whole series would be ruined if he turned out to be awful!

and then you see who he actually is, and oh boy, he does not look like a murderer.

he's more like a harmless bunny. fluffy white hair, round red eyes, a polite disposition—did you arrive at the wrong set, kid? maybe you were aiming for the high school romance drama and came here by mistake?

the webtoon murderer was no pretty boy. just an average-looking dude working at a convenience store nobody suspected to be the killer because of his unassuming looks, and that was the point. yet this eye-catching hottie is the complete opposite.

but everyone else in the cast is hot as hell, so maybe the murderer needs to be hot too so he can blend in??? director, what exactly did you have in mind?

“[name]!” just as you were staring at him, he turns and notices your gaze, expression immediately brightening. like an innocent baby chick, he walks up to you. “good morning.”

it's another day of rehearsals for the upcoming episode. so far, you haven't gotten to see his true skills yet—the most he's done is act like an ordinary extra part of the background and out of the limelight. it's understandable, since his character doesn't appear much until halfway through the series.

“kazuha,” you acknowledge him, still a little unused to his... general stickiness. you don't know what he found so appealing about you but he's taken to sticking by your side most of the time. childe has teased you more than once that perhaps the little chick has a crush on you.

“do you want to eat lunch together? i know a good fried chicken place.” so it's cannibalism now?

you agree to go anyway because fried chicken sounds great. plus, as much as you came to find that even celebrities are just regular people and you managed to befriend a lot of them, there's a sense of comfort in kazuha—he's the one you felt least intimidated by.

even if you text xiao for hours now, or come over to childe's house frequently, or go on food trips with albedo, or go clothes shopping with ayato and his sister, they're still people you can't get close to without boundaries. there's still a sense of distance separating you, one that you can't cross, but can happily do so with kazuha.

being with kazuha is just comfortable. there's never a need for formalities, and rather than co-workers, you feel closer to being friends.

sometimes, you feel as if you're babysitting though. he just... screams youth. holds the freshness of an amateur, clutching to naive hopes and wishes in the path of stardom. it's endearing to see, and it's like seeing a younger version of yourself.

it's a shame you've buried those naive wishes long ago, but you hope kazuha's career goes well for him. this drama will undoubtedly be a big boost for his popularity, but will also backlash on him if he performs horribly.

“this is my treat.” kazuha pushes the plate of chicken fingers to your side of the table, eyes shaped in smiling crescents.

you shake your head but take one nonetheless. “what kind of senior would i be to make you pay? order all you want, it's on me.”

kazuha doesn't pout but comes close to it, sulking as he bites on a piece of korean bburinkle chicken. “i can't tell if you're doing this on purpose.”

“doing what?”

“letting me off easy.”

...? this kid says some pretty strange things sometimes.

“i'll order some drinks. what do you want?” he offers, standing up.

“iced tea is fine.”

“got it.”

as he moves, his wallet drops on the floor. you're about to tell him so but you think better of it, already considering the possibility of kazuha sneakily paying for your meal on the counter and ordering drinks as an excuse.

you sigh, bending down to pick it up from the ground, but the wallet faces up, revealing the contents.

the first thing you see is your face.

you nearly jolt and hit your head on the table in shock, but you manage to suppress your surprise in a garbled mess of choking. this photo is... from that modeling gig you did a year ago. but why is it in kazuha's wallet-?!

you quickly put it back on the table, just in time for kazuha to arrive. he raises an eyebrow at your flustered expression but doesn't mention anything.

he makes a face seeing the wallet he forgot on the table. you were right after all.

later, as you return to set and practice ends after a few more hours, you recount the order of events to xiao, who could not be anymore uninterested at your entire spiel. perhaps childe would've made a more engaging conversation partner, but you'd rather not deal with his teasing right now.

“-and my face was right there! as his wallet photo! what the hell does that mean?!” years ago, you never could've guessed you'd ever be able to rant to xiao's face like this. yet here you are, unashamed in front of your idol.

“isn't it obvious?” xiao isn't even pretending like he's giving you his full attention anymore, preoccupied with the game console in his hands. “he likes you.”

“???”

xiao sighs, dead fish eyes looking straight at your clueless expression. “don't you have a photo of me in your wallet? that's the same thing.”

“that is certainly not the same thing! you're- xiao, and i'm just me. you're popular.”

xiao almost rolls his eyes. you're way too humble for someone who gets recognized by people on the street daily. “congrats, then. you met one of your rare fans.”

that was an unbelievable thought, before. you? having a fan? whenever you searched up your name, you couldn't find anyone talking about you. your character is different; you're looking for people who's interested in you as a person, not just your role.

now, though. you've accumulated enough fame for a fan club. several maybe, even.

... but even then. that modeling gig hadn't been successful. only someone who knew about it a year ago would know about it now, since it faded from the internet pretty fast.

as far as you know, you didn't have fans a year ago.

xiao makes a realization. “...isn't this the fourth time he invited you to lunch this week?”

“yeah?”

“.....isn't he just hitting on you then?”

now that's just not in the realm of possibility. xiao is so funny.

“he literally baked you cookies the other day.”

“friends give each other cookies, xiao. i can even make some for you if you want.”

“they were heart-shaped, [name].”

(you end up making him cookies to prove a point.)

days pass by, xiao giving you increasingly odd looks, and kazuha finally proves his worth in filming.

his performance rivals that of albedo's—the soft edges of his eyes sharpening into something menacing, gaze cold and apathetic, his lips downturned to an unfamiliar sneer. you're watching the birth of a star, and it's only a matter of time before his talent will be acknowledged.

he's different from ayato as a villain. ayato is cunning, the perfect example of a mastermind. malicious and dripping with spite. but kazuha looks innocent, a cute little bun you'd never guess can make those kind of facial expressions—twisted, vicious, malevolent.

it's part of the act, but you flinch when his character turns violent; kicking down doors, smashing glass windows with a bat. holding the extras acting as murder victims by grabbing them by the hair, throwing down cops like they weighed nothing.

and then right after that scene concludes with the director's “cut!”, with (fake) blood still splattered on his face, kazuha runs up to you grinning innocently, fishing for compliments. “did i do good?”

nevertheless, you give him headpats. “you're terrifying.”

he flushes, not too pleased giving that impression to you. the next day, he acts all sweet to you again, giving you a batch of cream puffs this time. xiao snorts somewhere in the background.

eventually, your manager notices the snacks you receive regularly. “oh, it's from that kid?”

“kazuha? mhm.” you nibble happily on the pastries.

your manager chuckles. “never thought i'd see him again here.”

“...what do you mean?” blinking owlishly, you pause from chowing down. “you know him?”

“he used to work at the bakery you went to often before, didn't he? the kid you kept telling to watch your first drama. you forced him to watch the episodes on your phone during his break.”

...............FUCK.

you do remember doing something that stupid. during the filming of your first drama, you frequently stopped by at a nearby bakery to buy snacks, and you remember there was a cute kid working there. you often pinched his cheeks and cajoled him into watching the series.

but when filming ended, you couldn't go to the bakery anymore. the filming location was far from your house, and the bakery was simply out of the way.

did that kid... kazuha... support you all this time? from that early on?

you curse your manager for telling you this right before filming. your mind is a mess, having trouble connecting that cute, precious child (why are you always calling him a kid, he's barely 2 years younger than you) to the smooth and flirty man today.

it's an important scene today too! the confrontation between the detective, his partner, and the murderer. it needs your complete concentration, and you just don't have it right now. you've never seen the director lose his temper, but you can probably manage to do it today.

albedo is performing well in front of the cameras as always, so much like a protagonist that you feel like you're watching from a television screen already. but you have a job to do too, so you do your best in the spotlight, pretending to be unaffected.

kazuha looks even scarier up close, so unhinged and unreadable. you know what his next move will be, written on the script, but that doesn't make you any less uneasy.

“you're bold,” kazuha drawls, playing with the knife in his hand, “coming to see me by yourselves.”

you can hear what he's saying, but it feels like your head is full of cotton. why are you so distracted? “so it really is you,” you speak, praising yourself for acting normally.

the other two exchange lines, and you thank the heavens you're mostly silent for the time being. for the meantime, you have a few moments to collect yourself; there's a chase right after this, and you'd rather not do something stupid like trip over yourself in the middle of something so serious.

...

sometimes, you're gifted with foresight.

but! to be fair! you did not trip over yourself! the staff forgot to fix the cables in one part of the set, and you tripped over those. so no. not entirely your fault.

albedo is too far away—he's on the side trying to unlock the doors with his brain powers somehow, and you're the bait distracting the murderer before he does. he can't catch you with his male-lead-in-a-romance-drama-slash-protagonist reflexes now.

ordinarily, you would not trip over the cables. you have able eyes, and you could easily step over them. but you're at the stairs where darkness falls with each lower step, and wire cables don't exactly glow in the dark.

...you're at the flight of stairs. and you're about to fall over. FUCK. WHY DID THE DIRECTOR WANT A CHASE SCENE IN THE STAIRS.

you brace for the impact, hands outstretched, praying to at least save your face, but then in a complete break of character, kazuha reaches for you.

you're leaning too far to the edge now. there's no way to pull you back to even ground. kazuha grits his teeth, pulling you to his chest, and in an immense show of strength, twists around so he'd be beneath you.

you descend in a disgraceful tangle of limbs. you're enveloped in a warm embrace, cheek resting on a firm chest. a chin is tucked into the crook of your neck, heavy breaths tickling the skin of your shoulder.

heart pounding in adrenaline, you jolt back to action when the relief fades away and the panic settles back in. “your head-!” you scramble to touch kazuha's head, feeling for any bumps or even worse, blood. kazuha hisses, so you soften the touch, tracing over his body to check for other injuries. he became a literal mattress for you, and you crushed him under your weight. he looks so so frail, what if you permanently crippled him or somethi- what the hell is all this muscle?“what about your back? did you get sprained anywhere?”

“i'm fine,” kazuha wheezes under your caressing.

“you don't sound fine! who are you trying to fool? you didn't have to do that!” you grab his cheeks as you admonish him, frowning severely. they're as soft as ever, just as pinch-able as you remember—but you won't let that distract you now! that was very reckless of him!

you scramble to scurry to the side, but his hands maintain their tight grip on your waist.

bashfully, he averts his gaze, the cheeks beneath your palm growning warm and flushing with a pretty pink. “i'm not hurt. it's because you're... on top of me...”

you blink, glancing down at your position. at a proximity entirely inappropriate, you're hovering above him, straddling his hips and making no move to get away.

this kazuha is too different from two minutes ago! wasn't he just chasing you down the corridor in murderous intent?! now he's blushing underneath you, like a pure maiden you defiled!

what's with this soft, sugary atmosphere?! last time you remembered, this was a murder mystery drama!

(when the drama ends, you're casted for a romance college series with kazuha as the male lead. figures.)