Dialogue Prompts

AGHHHH BIKER!ALHAITHAM HAS POPPED INTO MY MIND AFTER WRITING THAT ASK AND NOW I MUST SHARE IR

- gepard anon (i love alhaitham guys he’s so fucking fine)

you did not just. GRAHSGSBAG

ill get to the hsr one later but sorry my brain came to him because haitham made me SUFFER TRAGICALLY on his banner but its ok i 1st day triple crowned and maxed his weapon.

anyway a biker!alhaitham that enjoys going out and about alone, people always stare at him especially when he's wearing that full face helmet and they're all wondering who that is. he's not all about the attention, but it's amusing to see how people get so interested in him as he pulls up and waits in front of some random building.

oh, how biker!alhaitham gets the crowds going when he pulls off that helmet— pristine and handsome as he leans against his parked bike. out from a bag he brought, he pulled out a random book— many of which never expected a guy like him to bring. many flock to strike up conversation, but they were all so easily shut down.

the cold, cool, yet cruel.

but then they all notice how biker!alhaitham's head turns at the sight of you, and how quickly the book shuts and is tossed back into his bag. of course, when they were all busy staring at the rider, they never questioned as to why there was another helment with him. what were they looking at? that's for you to find out. ( it's obviously his fucking scultped ass body. )

biker!alhaitham whispers a few little things into your ears, and then the final blow to all the bystanders was how his lips met your forehead in a gentle show of affection. he'd normally never do such things in public— but if the crowd wanted to gawk and stare, then perhaps they'll have to deal with him showing off how lucky you were. he helped you put on that helmet of yours, and it wasn't long until he started up his bike again.

it was easy from there on out, putting your arms around biker!alhaitham's waist and pulling yourself up close against his back. oh, the eyes of others were seething with jealousy at this point.

after all...

who wouldn't want biker!alhaitham as their sweet boyfriend who takes you from place to place?

hi! if you’re not busy could you do some royalxroyal prompts? i have a princess oc i’m working on and i want to be able to give options for role plays besides them just mEeTiNg aT a bAlL oNe nIgHT

Of course!

Royal x Royal OTP Prompts

Prompts

A’s and B’s kingdoms often have meetings to discuss negotiations. As the kings and queens work out all the official stuff, A and B just sit there, bored out of their minds. They bond over how awful these frequent meetings are, and find creative ways to make the meetings more interesting.

A and B’s siblings are arranged to be married in the wedding of the century. The two kingdoms come together to make the wedding happen, and A and B are left with a fair amount of the planning.

A war has broken out in A’s kingdom and A is sent away to live with B for their protection.

Oneliners

“The only royal you are, is a royal pain in the ass”

“It’s awful that you live so far away, as it means I can only express my love through letters. And, as you know, I’m more talented with my mouth than with my pen”

“I would destroy my entire kingdom if it meant I got to be with you” “Is that a promise or a threat?”

“I’ve never seen you at any balls” “I’m not the most sociable”

“Can’t we just fall in love without having to worry about politics?”

Also see:

Modern royalty prompts and oneliners

“Don’t let go…”

It breaks B’s heart that A says it like a question. Like there’s even the smallest chance that they would leave.

“I won’t.” B says, barely holding their sobs in.  A is shaking like a leaf in B’s lap and they shift to pull the jacket closer around them. The blood is starting to seep through the makeshift bandages and B can feel it staining their own skin and clothes.

“I won’t leave. I’m not gonna let go, I’ll stay, I’ll-”

A tear slips down and lands on A’s face and this time B can’t hold it in. They sob and whimper in the same breath, curling over A like they’re nursing a wound of their own.

“Why are you crying?” A whispers, slurring on the words. They sound sleepy.

“I’m… I’m not, I- … You’re going to be fine.”

B takes a shaky breath and collects themself and then says again, more firmly.

“You’re going to be fine.”

A looks up at B, searches their eyes sadly for a moment before giving in to their heavy lids and closes their eyes.

“Ok.”

Words To Describe A Person's Voice

Based on this list originally posted by christmas-taire. The formatting was hard to read, so I changed it up, as well as removing some words for lack of a really useful definition, and adding others I thought of.

adenoidal: if someone’s voice is adenoidal, some of the sound seems to come through their sinuses.

appealing: an appealing voice is attractive in an aesthetic manner, usually subjective based on the particular voice and the person listening to it; when a voice is appealing, it may sound pleasant or amiable

breathy: speaking as if you cannot catch your breath, or talking through a breath.

brittle: a tense, tight voice, indicative of the speaker about to lose control of their emotions

croaky: if someone’s voice sounds croaky, they speak in a low rough voice that sounds as if they have a sore throat or their throat is very dry and they cannot fully get their words out

dead: if someone’s voice is dead, they feel or show no emotion, sounding as though they have no enthusiasm for life

disembodied: a disembodied voice means you cannot see the physical body from which the voice is coming; it often sounds ethereal, ghostly, or otherwordly

flat: spoken in a voice that does not go up and down; there is no emotion in the voice. Usually used in a sarcastic or resigned manner.

grating: a grating voice is unpleasant and annoying; typically what makes the voice grating is subjective based on the listener’s preferences

gravelly: a gravelly voice sounds deep and scratchy

gruff: a gruff voice is rough and low, often sounding as though spoken on an exhale; usually used to hide strong emotion

guttural: a guttural sound is deep and made at the back of your throat

high-pitched: a high-pitched voice has a high vocal range; can be spoken loudly or quietly 

hoarse: someone who is hoarse speaks in a low, quiet, roughened voice, usually because their throat is sore or excessively dry

honeyed: a honeyed voice sounds very pleasant, sweet, and friendly, even overly so; typically the speaker does this intentionally either for sarcasm or to manipulate a situation to their advantage

husky: a husky voice is deep, rich, and throaty, often spoken in an attractive or alluring way based on physical attraction

loving: a tone of voice used when a person has great love and affection for another person, creature, or thing

low: a low voice is quiet and difficult to hear

matter-of-fact: used about someone’s behavior or voice to describe a simple, upfront statement of fact.

modulated: a modulated voice is controlled and pleasant to listen to

monotonous: a monotonous voice is dull and never changes tone; it does not change in volume or emotion

mousy: a small, weak, and oftentimes fearful voice; can also be very quiet.

nasal: someone with a nasal voice sounds as if they are speaking through their nose, often somewhat stuffy and unclear and sometimes as thought the person has a cold

orotund: an orotund voice is loud and clear

penetrating: a penetrating voice is powerful and intimidating, it draws your attention very easily; this voice can be used to describe any vocal range, but usually is applied to lower voices because they are often so strong

plummy: a plummy voice or way of speaking is considered to be typical of an English person of a high social class. This word shows that you dislike people who speak like this.

quietly: a voice using very little volume

raucous: a raucous voice is usually loud and unruly, and can be considered rude and/or immature

ringing: a ringing voice echoes with great power, strength, determination, and clarity; it can be very intimidating

rough: a rough voice is harsh and hard, often leaning towards gravelly

shaky: unstable movement in the voice usually caused by fear, lack of confidence, physical weakness, or crying

shrill: a shrill voice is very loud and high-pitched, often created directly from the sinus area

silvery: a silvery voice or sound is clear, light, smooth, and pleasant; sometimes considered musical; frequently used to describe people who lie a lot

singsong: if you speak in a singsong voice, your voice rises and falls in a musical way, as though you are singing the words

small: a small voice is quiet and sounds as thought it is intimidated easily

smoky: a smoky voice is usually rich, husky, and sensual

softly spoken: someone who is softly spoken has a gentle, quiet voice

sotto voce (adjective, adverb): in a very quiet voice

stentorian: a stentorian voice sounds very loud and severe

strangled: a strangled voice is one in which the speaker cannot fully form the words because of someone or something blocking the airway; what comes out is often a garbled and sounds like gurgling a little bit

strident: a strident voice or sound is loud and unpleasant

taut: a taut voice is tight and tense, usually holding back strong emotion such as anger or anxiety.

thick: if your voice is thick, it sounds clogged

thickly: see above^

thin: a thin voice or sound is somewhat wear; it has no real power

throaty: a throaty sound is low and seems to come from deep in your throat

tight: a tight voice or expression shows that you are nervous or annoyed

toneless: a toneless voice does not express any emotion

tremulous: if something such as your voice or smile is tremulous, it is not steady, for example because you are afraid or excited

wheezy: a wheezy noise that sounds as if it is made by someone who has difficulty breathing

whiny: an annoying voice, sometimes high in pitch, often used to complain about trivial or inconsequential matters.

wobbly: if your voice is wobbly, it goes up and down, usually because you are frightened, not confident, or are going to cry

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 it 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. he relishes in your reaction, chuckling lowly.

“oh? my bad. 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, hands 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 so.

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.

...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, 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.

you jolt back to action when you realize what just happened. “your head-!” you scramble to touch his head, feeling for any bumps or even worse, blood. kazuha hisses, so you soften the touch, tracing over this body to check for other injuries. he became a literal mattress. “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. they're as soft as ever, just as pinch-able as you remember.

“i'm not hurt. it's because you're... on top of me...” bashfully, he looks away. you blink, glancing down at your position. you're straddling his hips, at a proximity entirely inappropriate.

...his hands are still on your waist.

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.)

hey so!! i don’t have stan twitter so i cant say it there

but basically antis have made “슼둥이들이” (the cute abbreviation the skz twitter uses for stray kids) translate to the n word

if you go to google translate and copy paste ‘슼둥이들이’ into it and translate it into english u can click on the little button underneath the translated side that says ‘feedback’ and report the translation as being incorrect/offensive!

i don’t typically make posts like this but this really angered me so let’s try to fix it for the boys!!

Scene Prompt

It had been a week since A died, and B had finally gotten around to cleaning out their room. They finished packing the last box around midnight, and got up from the floor. As they stretched, they felt something move behind them. B whirled around and to their shock, A was standing behind them.

"A?" B choked out, taking a hesitant step forward. For the first time in a week, happiness bloomed in their chest. A smiled at them and reached out, as if to touch B. "A-are you alive?"

A's smile faltered. "I'm afraid not," they said, stretching out a hand. Hope died in B's heart as they noticed the transparency of A's fingers. B let out a sob.

"I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry I couldn't save you."

"Hey, it's okay," A said. "You couldn't have done anything. B, listen, it's wonderful to see you again, but I have to warn you. Something's coming. Something bad. You and the others have to get ready."

"What? I-I don't understand."

A smiled. "That's why I'm here. Come on, B. Let's work together, one last time."

-Mod Minita

A dream unrealised

Summary: Alhaitham always imagined a future with you in it. Word Count: 0.3k Warnings: major character death, angst, female reader, pregnancy A/N: I dunno why it is that whenever i get stressed and my heart does the badum-badumps i like writing angst :<< Here's a little drabble based off a thought I had a few weeks ago about the after hours couple. Can be read as a standalone. To clarify that this is NOT a continuation of after hours! It's just an au of that couple! Don't worry they are safe they are happy this is just a what if

Alhaitham was not one for baseless dreams, but when it's confirmed that you're pregnant, he dreams. He imagines countless beautiful scenarios he could build, a million or more memories he wanted, and would, share with you.

Alhaitham thinks - and feels - many things. When he sees the home that you and he have made, his chest warms with pride and adoration. This is where you'd spend the rest of your life with him. This is where he'd devote his entirety to you.

Building a family here is not half bad, if he might say so himself. His mind conjures images of you and him and a bundle of joy in the nursery he built. He imagines future nights spent pacifying a fussy baby, the countless diaper changes, the disrupted sleep; but there's no dread that settles deep in his bones, only anticipation. Navigating a new world is worth it because it's with you.

Early on, he already imagines early mornings with a tot attached to his hip, helping him make pancakes to surprise you in bed. In the springs to come, the tiny hand of his tot would hold onto a similarly sized stalk of flowers as they toddle next to him, on their way to surprise you at work. His mornings will be spent preparing them for school with you, bumbling around as he tries his best to get his child's pigtails right. Nights will be accompanied by the vast stories he's accumulated since birth, all while tucking his child in, with you.

You, you, you.

You had his heart in your palms, his mind wrapped around your finger. You consume his thoughts. You were his everything.

Alhaitham is a capable man scholar husband father who thinks of every possible outcome before it happens.

He just didn't think he'd be sixteen all over again, sitting in the cold living room with papers for funeral preparations sprawled across the table.

a/n: i had no idea how to name this it got SO long like?? i swear originally it was just like 6 lines in total i wasnt even going to tag it under the main tag... then i got carried away LMAO ok enjoy! i will go back to my assignments now

Extra:

His newborn cries in nursery. Alhaitham rises to his feet.

As he picks up his crying daughter, it seems like she, too, grieves for a touch that neither of them could ever experience again. The weight of the world is heavy on his shoulders.

a/n: ok im gone fr now byebye i study

©shiinleaf Do not plagiarise, use, translate and/or share my content outside of Tumblr in any way, shape, or form. Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated if you enjoyed!

❞ [ 10. ] bumping into strangers

— 9:17 pm, LOG TWO: xiao’s whereabouts.

it is 9:17 in the evening when the realization dawns that despite being a man of circumspect, xiao remains baffled of the fact that he has absolutely no idea how long he’s been craning his neck across his shoulder to stare mindlessly at you.

he knows he has never dived headfirst so thoughtlessly and recklessly into all sorts of undesired situations. but he betrays himself when the sworn occasional glimpses take a gradual metamorphosis into unconsciously bewitched gazes.

it’s amazing how three long years have passed, and yet you still looked like the girl he met back in the last year of high school.

“xiao,” an impatient nudge echoes from a faintly tipsy childe. “what are you spacing out for?”

xiao hesitates to tear his eyes away from the outlying sight. but when he lazily glances at the half-full vodka shot raised in front of him, he wonders why he expects to see you holding it out towards him instead of the pretty stranger sporting a rather flirtatious smile. was she also a fourth year taking the same major? he couldn’t seem to recognize her distinct features from anywhere.

nevertheless, he takes the offered glass in his hand and throws his head back to tilt the drink squarely against his mouth, potent liquid passing by his lips until the spicy flavor violently punches the back of his throat.

it tastes fucking disgusting.

the world shines a bit too brightly as he forces himself to swallow the vodka down his throat. he blinks several times to fight the dazed sensation, vague noises of his friends’ chorused cheers resounding around him.

and when his gaze flutters subconsciously across the end of the room, he finds you staring illegibly at him.

it doesn’t hurt even when it takes less than a second for you to look away.

it is 9:34 in the evening when you suddenly collide into xiao’s chest with flushed cheeks. he reaches out to seize you in his arms, proving successful in breaking you from an awfully clumsy fall.

you stare blankly at him for the second time since you arrived — and yet for him, he’s already lost track of how many times he strained his neck just to peer over in curiosity.

it feels bittersweet, the way either of you somehow always make your way back into the other’s life without warning.

xiao can’t stop himself from asking whether you’re okay, hoping the slight tremble of his drunken voice was rendered inaudible to your ears.

“i’m fine.” comes your begrudging response as he helps you stand. surprisingly, you don’t bat his hands away as he carefully props you up.

you think he seems almost a bit concerned despite his characteristically apathetic nature that you’ve begun to acquaint yourself with for a while now, but you fearfully shake the far-fetched theory off and pace away from him in hurried steps.

leaving him behind to watch.

it is 9:42 in the evening when xiao leaves the party to take the night bus back to the dormitories.

he hated the wafting stench of drinks. he hated the stuffiness of the venue. he hated the girls that stared at him for too long. he hated the guys who egged him on to do something stupid. he hated the spreading of faint pain across his neck. he hated your flushed cheeks. he hated childe for miraculously convincing him to tag along.

and yet, xiao finds himself gazing quietly outside the glass window.

because for the first time in three years, he finally allows himself to wonder how it all went wrong.

I WISH YOU WERE SOBER — [ previous. masterlist. next ]

synopsis — in which you were never really one for spontaneity or precipitous decisions, until you got yourself drunk at your senior year university party and woke up the next morning with the most dreadful of hangovers…along with a painfully distorted memory of a stolen kiss on that hazy evening.

note — because we love mysterious pasts with the ex hihi

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