6 Ways To Handle Negative Thoughts

— you are the best thing that’s ever been mine —

you finally confess to xiao and give him comfort and reassurance. takes place right after the events of perilous trail, so spoilers if you haven’t played the quest yet!

gn! reader

genre: fluff, hurt, comfort, angst at the beginning.

warnings: spoilers for the recent event, xiao and reader have feelings for each other, love confessions, first kiss, i’m probably crying while writing this, it may be messy. i took inspiration from taylor swift’s mine and fly by sleeping with sirens. enjoy! (or join me in the crying about xiao club, that’s fine too).

“but when you find the thing that matters most may you never let it go”

— sleeping with sirens, fly

shadows all around, the feeling of flying upwards faster than light itself and your weapon swinging desperately at the ominous presences nearing your position. you should feel hopeful, right? thanks to yanfei’s intellect and reasoning, you’ve found a way out of the darkest depths of the chasm; yelan and xiao’s power has worked as expected on the fantastic compass and it’s propelling you skywards, toward a way out. but see, that’s exactly what’s nagging at you: xiao is using all of his strength and power to maintain the energy flow and his previous self-sacrificing way of thought, paired with the injuries he bore when he could finally reunite with your group, have been plaguing your subconscious with a sense of dread. as if on cue, at that moment, you observe xiao’s mask and the platform you’re standing on begin to shatter, his body sagging, he’s panting heavily, the current task he has at hand taking almost everything he has. yanfei is the first to speak “you can’t keep this up, it’s too much!” the yaksha averts his gaze, some crazy idea probably passing through his mind. fearing what he would be capable of doing next, you grab him by the shoulder, prompting him to focus his eyes on you: “xiao, listen to me! stop! you’re exhausted, we can figure this out, together, all of us!” the adeptus can’t bring himself to hold your gaze, not now, not when you, the person he most cares about, look on the verge of tears, not when what he’s about to do will probably be a goodbye he never imagined, nor wanted to have to witness. reacting quicker than wind, and before any of you have time to reach out for him, xiao has activated his anemo abilities and all of you are propelled to the end of the tunnel above, the platform shattering below him, leaving him to be swallowed into the darkest of nights. all you remember from that instant is your blurry vision, tears distorting a reality you can’t bear to accept, and then, not fully knowing if you’re imagining it, you think you can see a golden glow, a shooting star burning through this stygian apocalypse; and you pray to it, you pray to celestia and to all the archons who will listen to please, bring him back to me, please xiao come back safe.

a second it’s pitch black darkness, the next, sunlight is blinding your already distorted vision by the tears that won’t stop falling. you haven’t opened your eyes yet, you don’t want to see a world without xiao, the boy you’ve loved for so long, in it. in your numb state, you don’t realize the hand holding your shoulder delicately. it’s not until he calls your name softly, that you start getting out of your trance. “x-xiao? you are okay? you are here? is this real?” you manage to finally croak out, voice breaking, a rain of tears falling from your lashes into your cheeks. xiao wipes away a stray one, and reassures you “yes, [name] i’m here, we’re all fine, we all made it.” and with that, your knees almost give out, you cling to xiao and cry into his chest, breath coming in short, sobs shaking your whole body. “don’t do anything like this again please! why? why must you put yourself in danger like this? why were you so ready to sacrifice yourself? don’t you ever think about all the people who love and care about you?”

“who could ever love or care for someone like me?”

“i, for one, i love you xiao and i wouldn’t know what to do if anything had happened to you! i love you and i can’t bear the thought of you considering yourself a burden, when you are not! so please, please…” you can’t finish the sentence, a new wave of sobs leaving your throat. xiao guides your head to his chest, where you let out all the fear and stress of the past days. when your cries start to calm, he speaks: “i’m not sure i understand exactly this concept you mortals call love, but what i’m sure of is you are the person i care the most about in this world. and i will protect you, always.”

“but not at the cost of your own life, not now, not ever. you have to promise me.”

and when he looks into those eyes of yours, teary, that look up at him as if he was the infinite and held all the light and colors of every galaxy, he promises, and he knows that, even if you didn’t make a contract, he’ll hold to his word no matter what, because he could never bear the thought of crumbling the heart of the one most dear to him.

after accompanying xiao to the temple of pervases and say your farewells to the traveler and paimon, you notice the exhaustion of all the events on xiao’s face. “let’s get back to wangshu inn, you need rest.” you say, with a gentle smile, tugging at his hand. he looks at your intertwined fingers and silk flower pink blooms on his cheeks; he nods and follows you.

the walk back is mostly quiet, but it’s a comfortable kind of quiet. your hands never separating, his eyes on you when you point out a crystalfly, or a qingxin flower growing by a cliff. in this instant, and remembering the message from ushi that paimon relayed, a little smile graces xiao’s features. he doesn’t know how to describe the feeling exactly, since it’s something he doesn’t remember experiencing before, in his hundreds of years of lifetime, but he knows it’s warm, it surrounds him with a comforting light, and makes his heart beat faster, as if the usual melancholy and dissonant anguish was being replaced by a melody evoking carefree laughter in the air of a summer day, mingling with the sunbeams descending from a sky the color of fresh glaze lilies.

before arriving to the inn, your steps stop in an area surrounded by trees, the last light of day casting shadows in warm tones through their leaves. your connected hands prompt the adeptus to stop too. when he turns his head to look at you, his breath hitches: you’re smiling fondly at him, your eyes twin crescents, and under the mosaic of shadow branches, to him, you are ethereal, a deity who has placed their blessing upon him. “xiao,” your thumb brushing the back of his hand delicately, as if he was the finest of chinas “would you let me do something us mortals do to express love?” your tone a bit timid, as if afraid to disturb the peace of the moment. xiao nods, taking hold of your other hand too. “close your eyes” you whisper next to his ear, and the feeling of your breath on his skin causes butterflies to unleash in his stomach. and the fluttering of their wings only increases when he feels your lips pecking his. he stays still at first, not knowing exactly what he’s supposed to do, but he quickly follows your lead. it’s far from perfect, noses bumping into each other more than once, the giggles you let out making xiao’s heart fly, so bright it could replace the setting sun. when your mouths separate, foreheads resting together, your hands caressing his silky hair, his face flushed, yours feeling warm, the evening wind carries your voice once more “you’re the best that’s ever happened to me, xiao. i love you, i have for a long time and i always will.” and because you understand how hard for him it is to express his feelings through words, you settle for placing the softest kiss to his lips once again, and wrapping your arms around his form, your head in his shoulder. and it’s then, when you feel his head resting atop yours, dark emerald locks slightly tickling your cheek, his arms holding you a bit more tight, close to his chest, where his heart dances to the tune of a symphony composed of birds’ flight, starlight and blossoming flowers.

all works belong to kazu-sun 2022. any editing, modifying, reposting, plagiarizing, translating or claiming as yours is prohibited.

Genshin + Spending the morning with them

With: Scaramouche

Words: 1,1k

Warnings: suggestive, slight making out, fluff

Note: The reader is gender neutral, enjoy :)

Xiao Part

The moment you wake up, you know it’s going to be a tiring day; as lately a lot of your days have been.

It’s early. Too early for the sun to be up, but the dawn was bright enough to let you admire the sleeping form next to you.

After all this time, you find yourself still adoring how at ease, even nearly peaceful Scaramouche could look while sleeping. So contrary to his usual intimidating demeanor. Hair falling all over his face, legs tangled with your own and some parts of the blanket.

At times like that, he isn’t the 6th Fatui Harbinger, he isn’t the balladeer, he is simply… Kunikuzushi

It is truly a shame to have to leave, but unlike your lover, you aren’t a harbinger, thus having a tighter, more governed work schedule.

So, you swing your legs over the bedside, stretching the tiredness away and looking a little dazed around the room, mentally preparing yourself for another day of work.

But you are stopped in your movements when you suddenly feel a hand curling around your waist.

“And where do you think you’re going,” a voice, barely awake murmurs. Scaramouche rests his head down on your shoulder, hugging you lightly from behind.

You chuckle softly.

“You know, you have to get up soon, too, right?”

He grunts disgruntled somewhere near your ear. It was common knowledge that the balladeer solely does whatever and whenever he pleases. Unless of course, the order comes from high above.

You smile to yourself, placing a hand above his own on your waist.

Scara’s breath tickles against your neck, before you feel him slowly starting to plant down soft, nearly delicate kisses down your skin. He moves from your neck, up to your jaw, the sensitive skin right below your ear and then down your shoulders again.

Shivering, you hold your breath. It isn’t very usual for him to act that affectionately, let alone during early morning hours.

But just as you are about to close your eyes in enjoyment, he stops. You try not to pout, not wanting to get him the satisfaction. Still, you turn around to face him-

-when you suddenly find yourself pinned down on the bed, hands spread to each side of your face. Scara is holding your wrists firmly, but not enough to hurt you.

His lips are curved into a sly smile, mustering you. Though, the sleepiness in them balances his comportment. “You know I could just order you to stay here, right?”

Your eyes narrow. Oh, that’s where this is going.

“Sure, you could,” you tease. “But who said I would listen?”

To this Scaramouche furrows his brows, his eyes darkening a little. Then he bends his head dangerously down to you, lips hovering above yours.

“Well then,” he whispers in a lowered voice. “I’d like seeing you try to deny my wishes.”

Your mouth twists, clearly amused by his antics, but nevertheless your heartbeat fastens. A lot. “Shut up and kiss me already.”

“What, that desperate?”

You blink, a little baffled.

This cheeky little bastard…

Deciding, not to let him get his way, to just tease him a bit more, you shrug your shoulders, looking away from him. “Well, seems like I have to go to work then.” Moving to stand up, you try to push him aside, but – of course – he doesn’t let you. Instead, his grip around your wrists tightens just a little bit, forcing you to stay.

Scara raises an eyebrow. “Better watch your mouth, darling.”

You stare back up at his eyes, mustering him curiously. “Or what?”

Daring today, aren’t we?

At this he tilts his head, eyes narrowing. Then he leans forwards a fraction, his face so close to yours that your gaze widens for a second.

You hold your breath, eyes consistently darting from his eyes to his mouth.

His eyelids drop and - blinded by instinct - you lean in. Just before your lips could touch, though, Scaramouche backs up again, just an inch.

He chuckles darkly, eyes burning in delight at your misery. “Go on. Ask me.” He lifts his hand and slowly starts running his thumb over your lips.

“Wow, you’re such a tease today,” you reply, though your voice comes out much weaker than you had anticipated.

“Say the word, darling.”

Merely inches apart from each other, you stare at each other’s lips, breath fastening.

Swallowing, a hoarse whisper escapes you. “Kiss me.” Then you lick your lips and say “please.”

Scaramouche doesn’t wait a second longer.

This time he bends fully down, lips pressing against your own, capturing you all in; your whole body, mind and spirit are filled up with him. His touch, his smell, his body.

Brows furrowed, he moves his hand slowly over your shoulder, into your hair, while loosening the grip on your wrist to stabilizes himself on the bed.

You pull him a little closer to you, deepening the kiss; fingertips running down his spine, you could feel him shiver at your touch.

At the time you break apart your limbs are tightly pressed together, chest panting with heavy breaths. For a few moments you are unable to open your eyes, savouring the feeling, the sensation of his lips on yours.

“What are you thinking about?”

Still a little dazed, you look up into Scara’s smug face. Not even surprised that he doesn’t look even the slightest bit out of breath.

“You.”

Scaramouche lets out a low chuckle. “Precisely.”

Though in the next moment his taunting demeanour lessens, instead something more… mellow appears in its place.

With a soft touch he runs his fingers along your face, slowly gliding over the darkened skin beneath your eyes.

You’re exhausted.

Lately, you’ve been working a lot more than usual. He has noticed of course.

So, yes, he wants you to stay in bed, For his own benefit, but also for yours. Though, he wouldn’t phrase these reasons aloud.

“Stay here.”

You muster him, fingers gently playing with some strands of his hair. “You know I can’t. Contrary to you, people are not afraid to get upset with me, you know. I might actually lose my job.”

He clicks his tongue in disapproval. “Tsk, I’m not a harbinger for nothing. They won’t dare to bother you if I intervene.”

You couldn’t help but give a lopsided grin. “You’re cute when you’re still half asleep like that.”

Scoffing, Scara rolls his eyes, sliding his hands down to hold you by the waist. “Remind me to kill you later,” he murmurs just before he presses his lips back on yours

Thanks for reading! :) Comments and reblogs are appreciated <3

Beidou, introducing kazuha to the crew for the first time or something idk i haven’t played his story yet :

i hope they meet

He used to be a plain-old brat.

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.)

xiao forgot to cook the rice

Who do you think? 

— Love Rivalry (Kaveh x reader)

PAIRING kaveh x gn!reader (ft. alhaitham)

GENRE social media au, college au

SYPNOSIS You’ve been rejected by your academic rival, alhaitham, without even confessing or having feelings for him. You decided to go to a party to fix your damaged ego, so why are you suddenly making out with his roommate?

TAGS attempt in comedy, fluff, slight angst, misunderstandings, fast burn ish, implied sexual content (no smut)

WARNINGS might be ooc, written before kaveh’s official release, cw images of cats

STATUS ongoing! (11/16/22)

main m.list

profiles: (reader’s) peak mental illness | (kaveh’s) most wanted

00. prologue (🌻)

ACT I — delusional

01. confession

02. brutal

03: rumors

04. beer

05. rejection

06. one word

07. stream

08. cheating lover

09. real talk

10. plan

ACT II — scandal

11. lost (🌻)

12. scandal (🌻)

— to be added

note: im back with smau cause writing sucks

taglist close!

@dee-zbignuts @lxry-chxn @ducq @nikkicola @artssleepy @arraxthatsonjah @scarasaver @i-x4o @matenlau @soohasoya @yae-raidenmyloves @aixaingela @09yyeol @nebulaera @bokutetsumu @kairxse @victoria1676 @thenightsflower @ti-lsy @alizaneth @abvolat @carnnieval @ultimate-imagines @ventisoba @skimm0nzz @slvdsjjk @httpmitsuya @unit-008 @ruisann

-- this is my first time doing a taglist so pls send an ask or comment if it isn't working thank you

Forelsket Masterlist

Forelsket: (n.) the euphoria you experience when you are first falling in love

Synopsis: After a falling out drives you and Albedo apart one year ago, you find yourself returning to Dragonspine, the same place that led to everything going downhill. But this time, you’re accompanying the traveller and his floating companion. Are some things best left buried beneath the snow or are there still secrets driving the two of you farther apart?

Total Word Count: ~52.1k

Status: Completed

Prologue

Act I: Abience 

Act II: Serendipity 

Act III: Metanoia 

Act IV: Ineffable 

Act V: Redamancy 

Epilogue 

Bonus Scene: Albedo’s Birthday 

Notes:

It’s a slow burn! And while this is an Albedo x GN!Reader fic, I’ve put a lot of thought into the Reader’s relationships with other characters as well and who they are

My apologies if any of the characters are OOC, I’ve tried to capture their personalities as best I can