Whumptober - Day 30: Major Character Death

calm before the storm - some pre argument scenarios

prompt list by @novelbear

ranting to a close friend/parent about what they're upset about before they make confrontation just to make sure they aren't overreacting

blowing up their phone and receiving no answers (this either being the reason behind the argument or just adding fuel to the fire)

desperately wanting to be angry, but they can't push past the hurt they're feeling with the trust being broken

on the other hand, they're fuming because this isn't the first time

immediately driving over to where they are (even if this means embarrassing them in front of friends)

"why are you looking at me like that..."

taking a few minutes to calm down so that they don't explode the moment they start talking

"why do you seem upset?" "why the hell do you think..."

"when you realize what the problem is, then you can talk to me."

"hold on, that's not fair-"

"all you ever think about is yourself!"

sending the scary "we need to talk." text

trying to pretend that some jokes/comments don't bother them until one just finally goes too far

really trying not to say anything at first, but the other can tell they're upset by their mannerisms and try to find out what it is that's wrong

mutual friends alerting the other about something they definitely deserve to know

anxiously waiting for them to come home so that they could give them a piece of their mind

noticing that their concerns are blatantly being brushed to the side so they interrupt to try to stand up for themselves

"sit down for a sec, i need you to hear this."

⋆ Story Teaser: Only Old Memories Remain ⋆

goodbye to a dying character starters

'' don't you dare close your eyes. ''

'' stay with me. ''

'' look at me. hey, focus on me... ''

'' go. ''

'' stay. ''

'' thank you. ''

'' don't say goodbye. ''

'' i can't do this. ''

'' wake up! ''

'' it hurts. ''

'' i can't do this... ''

'' i don't feel anything. ''

'' you're gonna be okay. ''

'' she's not dead...! ''

'' don't you fucking dare leave me... ''

'' you're not dying. ''

'' you can't sit here and watch me die. ''

'' will you stay, to the end? ''

'' i can't... ''

'' please, kiss me... ''

'' you're not dying, do you hear me? ''

'' it's over. ''

'' i did what i had to do. ''

'' don't close your eyes. ''

'' it should have been me. ''

'' i'm scared. ''

'' god, i'm such an idiot... i shouldn't have gone out there. ''

'' i can't do this without you. ''

'' don't go. ''

'' let go. ''

'' don't forget me. ''

'' i forgive you. ''

'' you deserve this. ''

'' you can do now. ''

'' i never got to tell you... ''

'' i regret it. i regret all of it. ''

'' don't you dare... don't you dare say goodbye. ''

'' damn you for making me do this... ''

'' come home. ''

'' it's okay. close your eyes. ''

'' i'm home... ''

'' you can go now. ''

'' it's okay. '' '' it's not okay. ''

'' you did good. ''

'' i'm so proud of you. ''

'' it's okay... please don't cry. ''

'' do you remember that song, that we always used to sing as kids? [could you...?] ''

'' i can't... i can't. ''

'' i'm in the arms of my first love. ''

'' i swear to you, i will kill every last one of them. ''

'' i'm sorry. ''

'' this is not your fault. ''

'' this is all your fault. ''

'' i deserve to die. ''

'' you deserve to be at peace. ''

'' this is all your fault. you did this to me. ''

'' it's my fault for trusting the wrong people. ''

'' guess you finally got what you wanted. ''

'' if you think [killing me] is going to stop this, you're in for a rude awakening. ''

'' you're the one who stabbed me. ''

'' one down, three to go. ''

'' how could you be so stupid? ''

'' i won't give you the satisfaction of watching me suffer. ''

'' this is not my fault. ''

'' how could you do this to me? ''

'' go to hell. '' '' with pleasure. ''

'' come closer. ''

'' do you mind? i could really use that knife... ''

Like Hell You’d Tell Me No | PB fic

(tommyshelby x fem!reader – s2 era)

Summary: When Y/N gets sent to Birmingham for her own protection, the last thing she expects is to be dropped into the middle of Shelby territory, especially under the icy watch of one Thomas Shelby. But somehow, she keeps breaking his rules... and somehow, he lets her. Between unannounced office visits, drunken nights in his chair, and a new bestie in Ada Shelby, Y/N is stirring up more than just trouble. And when things start to heat up between her and Tommy, they might just find themselves caught in a moment that neither of them is quite ready for, yet.

A/N: okay so, I always write Harry (literally always), but while prepping for my internship I decided to finally watch Peaky Blinders... and now I’m unwell. Like, genuinely not okay. Tommy Shelby lives in my head rent-free and I can’t make him leave. 😭

So instead of lesson planning like a responsible adult, this little fic idea basically wrote itself at 1AM with Taylor Swift playing in the background lol. Not sure if I’ll continue this or if I’ll dabble in multiple fandoms, but I had fun writing it and wanted to share in case anyone else is also deep in their Peaky Blinders phase

Word Count: 4147

Warnings: 

Light drinking

Mentions of past threats/harassment (non-graphic)

Protective/possessive behavior (from Tommy, ofc)

Language (it’s Peaky Blinders, there’s swearing lol)

Slow-burn tension and emotional build-up

Mentions of minor violence (one punch, classic Tommy move)

Unresolved romantic tension (aka cliffhanger ending 😌)

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

Tommy just… stares.

The silence in the room stretched, thick as the smoke curling from his cigarette. Papers sat idle in front of him, ignored now. The man across the desk – some poor bastard talking percentages – had gone completely still, mouth half-open like he was about to continue his pitch until she appeared out of nowhere.

She leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, eyes scanning the room like she’d walked into a pub instead of the Shelby Company office. Young, maybe mid-twenties, wearing a travel-worn coat and scuffed boots. There was something in her look. Not arrogance. Just no fear. Like she'd met worse than a room full of Shelbys.

“Door was open,” she said again, tilting her head. “Didn’t think it was a problem.”

Arthur snorted behind her. “Bloody hell, she’s brave.”

Polly didn’t say a word, but the look on her face was a mix of amusement and caution. Always watching.

Tommy took a slow drag, tapped ash into the tray. “You must be Y/N.”

“Yeah,” she said, stepping in without being asked. “You must be Tommy, Thomas Shelby.”

“Bit early to be on first-name terms.”

“Bit late not to be,” she replied, dropping her bag by the wall like she belonged there. “You owe my brother a favor. I’m the favor.”

He didn’t like the sound of that. Not from her mouth. Not from anyone, really. But the message had come a few days ago, and he’d read it twice just to be sure. Michael Carter. They’d served together. Pulled him out of a trench once. Didn’t talk much after the war, but when a man like that writes and says his sister’s in trouble, you pay attention. You don’t say no.

“What kind of trouble?”

She shrugged. “The vague kind. London’s full of it. Wrong place, wrong time. Few names I shouldn’t have known, a few blokes who didn’t like me walking away.”

Tommy leaned back in his chair. “You running?”

“I’d call it more of a stroll,” she said. “Don’t worry. I didn’t bring much baggage.”

He looked at her. Really looked. She was tired but not broken. Something restless behind her eyes. There was a fight in her, the kind that either got people killed or made them dangerous friends. He wasn’t sure which yet.

“You’ll stay above the shop,” he said after a pause. “Spare room. Polly’ll take you up.”

Y/N glanced toward Polly, who gave a small nod.

Tommy picked up his pen again, glancing at the man across from him who’d gone completely pale. “Now, if we’re done with the interruptions–”

“I’ll get out of your hair,” she said, already walking off.

“Don’t wander.”

She turned in the doorway, gave a small smirk. “No promises.”

Polly followed her out a moment later, her heels sharp on the floorboards.

Arthur leaned in with a low whistle. “She’s got some fire, that one.”

Tommy didn’t answer. He was staring at the spot she’d been standing in. His jaw clenched as he exhaled smoke through his nose.

“She gonna be trouble?” Arthur asked.

“She already is,” Tommy said quietly, then went back to pretending to listen to the pitch in front of him.

--

Upstairs, Y/N was already sizing up the space. The spare room was clean enough. Not warm, but not cold either. Polly stood by the door, watching.

“You’re lucky,” Polly said finally. “He doesn’t like people in his office. Doesn’t like people full stop.”

Y/N looked around, then dropped onto the bed with a soft thump. “I’ll keep out of his way.” Polly gave a dry smile. “Let’s see how long that lasts.”

Downstairs, Tommy stubbed out his cigarette, but his hand hovered near the tin for another. He didn’t light it. Just sat there, staring at the door where she’d come in like a storm in worn boots and sharp words.

A favor owed, he thought. Just a favor.

But he already knew better.

The days that followed proved it. She didn’t just stay in the spare room. She moved through the betting shop like she’d always been there. Tommy had told himself he’d figure out what to do with her once things settled, once he had time. But time didn’t slow for the Shelbys. And she didn’t wait for permission.

“You know there’s a kettle in the back, right?” she asked one morning, walking into his office without knocking. Again. She set a chipped mug down on the desk like it was hers to do so. “You don’t have to drink your weight in whisky before noon.”

Tommy looked up slowly. “You bring tea to every man who gives you a place to sleep?”

“Only the grumpy ones,” she said, hands in the pockets of her skirt. “Which is lucky for you.”

He didn’t answer, just stared at the steam curling from the cup.

She lingered a second longer, then turned to leave. “Try not to scowl into it too hard. Might go bitter.”

That was the third time that week she’d barged in. Polly had stopped bothering to intervene. Arthur found it funny. John asked if she had a death wish.

Tommy just drank the tea.

It wasn’t that she was rude. She just didn’t care about the little rules. Rules like knocking before you enter a room that belongs to Thomas Shelby. Rules like not sitting in the man’s chair while drunk at the end of a long day.

Which she did.

It was Friday, the shop was quiet, and she had found the whisky in the cabinet behind the front desk. Arthur had offered her a glass earlier. She’d declined then. Hours later, she helped herself.

Tommy walked in to find her kicked back in his chair, legs tucked under her, nursing a glass. Her boots were off and resting on the floor beside her. She looked comfortable. Dangerous thing to be in his space.

“You’re in my chair,” he said.

She turned her head lazily. “Didn’t think you’d mind.”

He didn’t say anything. He looked at her for a moment, then walked to the other side of the room. Took off his coat, hung it up. Sat on the edge of the desk, lit a cigarette. The quiet filled the space between them.

“You always drink alone?” he asked finally.

“I wasn’t alone,” she said. “You came in.”

Arthur came by halfway through and nearly choked on his laughter. John followed, paused in the doorway, gave a long low whistle.

“She’s got some bloody nerve,” John said under his breath.

Tommy said nothing. Just exhaled a long stream of smoke and looked at the ceiling.

After a few minutes, she stood, wobbling just a bit, and set the glass down neatly on the desk.

“Thanks for not shouting,” she said. “It’s rare.”

He watched her as she walked out, barefoot, leaving the smell of whisky and some kind of sweet soap in her wake.

The door clicked shut.

Arthur leaned closer to Tommy after a beat. “You gonna let her get away with that?”

Tommy didn’t look at him. “She’s not doing any harm.”

John raised an eyebrow. “She was in your chair, brother.”

Tommy stubbed out his cigarette. “She’s not in it now.”

That was how it was. She floated in and out of the betting shop like smoke, slipping through the cracks no one else dared to touch. She was younger, yes. Full of jokes and sudden laughter. The kind that didn’t come from politeness but from deep inside, like she refused to let the world make her quiet.

He didn’t know what to make of her yet. But he noticed things. The way she talked to everyone. The way she read newspapers he hadn’t even opened yet. The way she knew how to patch a rip in her own coat with needle and thread without making a fuss. Like she’d done it a hundred times.

She didn’t belong here. Not really. But she was here. And the longer she stayed, the more it felt like a storm had rolled in and decided to settle.

He didn’t know what the hell he was going to do with her. But he knew sending her away wasn’t an option anymore. That thought sat in the back of his mind the night Arthur burst through his office door, out of breath and sweating.

“She’s at the Garrison,” he said. “Alone. Some bloke’s not takin’ the hint.”

Tommy didn’t say anything. He stood, grabbed his coat, and walked past Arthur without a word. His pace was calm, but his steps were hard. Each one louder than the last on the wooden stairs.

The Garrison wasn’t far, but it felt like miles. His hands curled into fists at his sides. Inside, the music was low and the laughter was higher than usual. A Friday night crowd. Voices blurred together until one stood out.

“Come on, sweetheart,” a man was saying. “Don’t be so bloody cold.”

Tommy moved through the crowd like smoke. He didn’t shove. Didn’t speak. Just walked until the man came into view. Broad-shouldered, older, drunk. Y/N was backed against the wall near the end of the bar, her arms crossed tight and chin lifted. She wasn’t scared, but she wasn’t laughing either.

“I said no,” she repeated, voice firm.

“And I said I don’t care,” the man replied, hand brushing against her arm again.

Tommy didn’t stop walking. The man didn’t see him coming. One second he was smirking, the next he was on the ground, nose caved in and blood gushing. No warning. No words.

The room went quiet.

Tommy didn’t look down. He turned to Y/N, who hadn’t moved. Her face had gone pale.

“Come on,” he said.

She followed him out into the street without arguing. The cold hit her hard, cutting through the whisky in her blood. They walked in silence for a few blocks, her footsteps uneven beside his. She hadn’t even grabbed her coat.

“You didn’t have to do that,” she said finally.

He didn’t look at her. “Yes. I did.”

She shoved her hands into her pockets. “I could’ve handled it.”

“I’m sure,” he said, voice flat. “But, he touched you.”

She stopped walking. He stopped too, turning to face her.

“I don’t need a fucking bodyguard, Tommy.”

“No,” he said. “You need someone to keep you alive. That’s me now.”

She stared at him, jaw tight, but her voice cracked when she spoke again. “I didn’t mean for that to happen.”

He looked at her. Really looked. Her cheeks were flushed, her hair wind-blown, and her eyes shining in that way they did when she was holding too much in. She was trying to be tough, but her hands were shaking.

He stepped closer, calm now. “You all right?”

She looked away. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not.”

“It wasn’t the first time someone got too close.”

Tommy’s jaw clenched. His fingers flexed at his sides. He didn’t say what he wanted to say. That London was behind her, but its shadows were still clinging. That he should’ve never let her walk out alone. That the second he got word she was in danger, his heart had pounded like it hadn’t since France.

Instead, he took a breath and said, “Next time you go out, you take someone with you.”

She rolled her eyes. “Arthur? Polly?”

“Me,” he said. “Preferably.”

The silence stretched between them, and something shifted in her face. Not fear. Not defiance. Just something quieter.

“Right,” she said. “Okay.”

He nodded once, then turned and kept walking. She followed.

The streets of Birmingham were dark, damp, full of half-spoken threats. But she walked beside him like it was the safest place she’d ever been.

The next morning, Y/N sat cross-legged on the floor of the spare room, trying to make sense of the mess she called her belongings. Half-unpacked bags, a few folded letters, and a pair of boots still caked in city grime. She was tugging a comb through her hair when there was a knock on the door. “Mind if I come in?” came a voice.

Y/N turned to see a woman leaning in the doorway, lipstick perfect, hair pinned up tight like she meant business even on a quiet day. She looked familiar in that way all the Shelbys did.

“Ada, right?” Y/N said.

“That’s me. Figured it was about time we had a proper chat,” Ada replied, stepping in without waiting. “They’ve all been talking about you.”

“Yeah?” Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Should I be worried?”

Ada grinned. “Only if you hate compliments wrapped in irritation.”

She handed over two cups of something that smelled strong enough to kick. Y/N took one with a grateful nod.

“Whiskey in the coffee?” Y/N asked.

“Bit of both. It’s the Shelby way.”

They sat near the window, legs stretched out, warmth settling into the space.

“You’re not like them,” Ada said after a moment. “Not from here. Not stuck in it like the rest of us.”

Y/N gave a little shrug. “London’s not exactly better.”

“No, but you’ve still got light in your eyes,” Ada said. “Most people around here have it beaten out of them by twenty.”

Y/N looked out the window. “I don’t know about light. I just don’t see the point in pretending everything’s always awful.”

Ada sipped from her cup. “That’s what I mean. You’re a bloody breath of fresh air. Especially among all these grumpy bastards.”

Y/N laughed. “Speak for yourself. You’re just as sharp.”

“I get it from my mother. And years of watching Tommy scowl at paperwork.”

At the mention of his name, Y/N glanced away, but Ada noticed. Of course she did.

“He’s different with you,” Ada said.

Y/N frowned. “Different how?”

Ada leaned in, smug. “Less growling. More… I don’t know. Breathing.”

“You’re making things up.”

“I’m not.” She pointed her cup at Y/N. “You’ve got him wrapped around your little finger, you know that?”

Y/N blinked, actually blinked, and then laughed into her drink. “Absolutely not.”

“Oh, come on,” Ada said. “He doesn’t even let me in his office unannounced.”

Y/N bit her lip. “Maybe he’s just tired of telling me off.”

“No. That’s not it.” Ada gave her a long look. “He trusts you.”

There was a weight in those words Y/N hadn’t expected. She didn’t answer right away. Trust wasn’t something she’d had a lot of lately. It felt strange to even think about.

“He walked me home last night,” Y/N said quietly. “After a man at the Garrison got pushy.”

Ada nodded. “I heard. Arthur said Tommy didn’t say a word. Just broke the bloke’s nose and left.”

Y/N stared down into her mug. “He didn’t even look angry. That’s what got me.”

Ada tilted her head. “That’s worse, you know. Means he meant it.”

Y/N smiled faintly. “I know it’s just a favor, what he’s doing. Letting me stay. Letting me be here.”

Ada stood and stretched. “It started out that way, but i believe it has turned into more. That’s why it matters.”

She walked toward the door, then turned. “You’re good for him. Whether he admits it or not.”

Y/N stayed by the window after she left. The coffee had gone cold, but she held it anyway, hands wrapped around something solid.

Out in the street, she caught sight of Tommy crossing to the shop, coat pulled close, face unreadable as ever.

She watched him for a second too long. Then she looked away, heart skipping in a way she pretended not to notice.

By the time evening came, the betting shop had been cleared out, lanterns strung up, and Polly’s birthday turned into one of those Shelby nights that started quiet and always ended with someone singing out of tune. Y/N wasn’t much of a drinker, but it was hard to say no when John poured heavy and Polly kept pressing glasses into her hand with a look that said she’d take offense otherwise.

She’d laughed too hard, danced once with Ada, twice with Arthur, and ended up slipping out when her head started to spin and the voices all blurred into one. The music still floated through the floorboards when she made her way up the stairs and pushed open the office door.

She didn’t even bother with the lights. The soft glow from the hallway was enough. She crossed the room like it was muscle memory now and dropped into the chair behind the desk. His chair. She tucked one leg under herself and took a slow sip from the bottle she’d brought up.

The first sip burned. The second didn’t.

She leaned back and closed her eyes for a second, listening to the muffled laughter below, the distant clink of glasses. The door creaked after a few minutes. She didn’t open her eyes.

“Told you I like your chair,” she said lazily.

Tommy stepped inside and shut the door behind him. “You’ve got a habit.”

“I’ve got nowhere else that’s quiet,” she replied.

He walked across the room and sat on the edge of the desk, facing her. No coat, sleeves rolled just enough to show the edge of his tattoo. His tie was loose. He looked like he’d stopped pretending to be the man everyone thought he had to be.

She glanced at him and smiled faintly. “Aren’t you supposed to be at the party?”

He shrugged. “They won’t miss me for a few minutes.”

She tilted the bottle toward him. “Want some?”

“I’ve had enough.”

“Then keep me company.”

So he did. They sat in the kind of silence that had weight but no pressure. She traced a line in the wood grain of the desk with her finger, then spoke, soft and unguarded.

“Do you ever feel like you don’t belong anywhere?”

He didn’t answer right away. His gaze stayed on her face.

“I used to think London was it,” she went on. “Then everything went to shit. I came here thinking it’d be worse. But now I just feel stuck in between.”

She looked down. “And I hate feeling like a guest. Like I’m just waiting for someone to tell me it’s time to go.”

“You’re not a guest,” Tommy said.

“Then what am I?”

He didn’t flinch, but he didn’t answer either.

She looked at him, really looked. The way his eyes softened in moments like this, when no one else was around to see. How still he went when he let his guard down. Like it scared him more than war ever had.

“You don’t talk much,” she said.

“I say what needs saying.”

“Right.” She took another sip. “But you listen.”

Their eyes met. Her thumb brushed the side of the glass, and his fingers reached out absently to take it from her. Their hands touched – just a second – but it was enough to make her chest tighten.

He set the bottle down without breaking the gaze. Neither moved.

“Why are you always so calm?” she whispered.

“I’m not.”

His voice was low. Closer now. She hadn’t noticed how near he’d leaned until she could feel the warmth of him, the faint scent of tobacco and something colder underneath.

Her fingers curled around the arm of the chair.

His hand was resting near hers on the desk. Not quite touching. But close.

Too close. Not close enough.

The silence pulled tight between them. She wasn’t sure who was holding it there, but it felt deliberate, like something balanced on the edge of a blade.

She didn’t move her hand.

Tommy shifted closer, the worn fabric of his sleeve brushing hers. Her breath caught. He didn’t look at her yet, not directly – his eyes stayed on the papers scattered across the desk like they meant something. Like any of this was still about business.

“Don’t smoke in here,” she said quietly, not looking at him either.

“I’m not.”

“You were earlier. Without me.”

He didn’t argue. Just leaned back the slightest bit, the corner of his mouth twitching like he might smile, but didn’t. His voice stayed low.

“You always this jumpy around men, or just me?”

She turned her head. Met his eyes. “You always this full of yourself, or just with women who talk back?”

There was a flicker in his expression, something like approval, maybe amusement. Maybe something sharper underneath.

“Maybe I like women who talk back.”

“Maybe you like trouble.”

His gaze dropped to her mouth for the briefest second. “I’m in the business of it.”

That pull in her gut tightened. Her fingers curled harder around the arm of the chair, grounding herself. It wasn’t enough.

The room had gone quiet again, except for the tick of the clock on the mantel and the soft hum of music and voices seeping in from the hallway. The party still spun on without them, but here it felt like everything had narrowed to the space between their hands.

She turned slightly, just enough that her knee brushed his. She didn’t apologize. Neither did he.

“Thomas.”

He lifted his eyes again. That look he gave her made her forget what she was about to say. Or maybe she hadn’t planned to say anything at all.

He leaned in. Slowly, like he wanted her to see it coming. His breath was warm against her cheek, and there was that scent again – tobacco, sharp gin, and something colder. Something metallic, like the edge of a coin.

The air between them thickened. She could feel her pulse in her throat, in her fingertips.

Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Is this the part where you kiss me, or tell me I’ve crossed a line?”

Tommy’s eyes darkened, his focus slipping to her lips, then back up. A slow smirk curved his mouth, not the cruel one he used in business, not the charming one he pulled out for show. This one was quieter. Closer to real.

He leaned in just a little more.

Then came the knock.

Three sharp raps on the doorframe.

“You two decent?”

Ada’s voice cut through the moment like a blade.

Y/N jerked back in her chair, heat rushing to her face as if she’d been caught doing something she hadn’t even done.

Tommy straightened slowly, not looking away from her. The smirk was gone. What replaced it was something harder to name. Something held tight behind his eyes.

“Yeah,” he called, not loud. “We’re decent.”

Ada poked her head in, grin wide, eyes darting between them. “Well, don’t let me interrupt whatever this was.”

“It was nothing,” Y/N said too quickly. She cleared her throat. “Just work.”

“Right.” Ada’s grin didn’t budge. “You’re missing the part where Finn tries to charm the Americans. It’s going about as well as you’d expect.”

Tommy gave a short nod. “We’ll be out soon.”

Ada raised a brow but didn’t push. “Suit yourselves.” She ducked out again.

The silence came back, heavier this time.

Y/N stood, smoothing her skirt like it might help her pretend nothing had happened. Nothing almost had.

Tommy watched her. Didn’t say anything at first.

She didn’t meet his eyes.

“I should–” she started.

“Go back to the party,” he said softly.

She looked at him then.

“We’ll finish this later.”

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

Thank you so much for reading, you’re a total angel! Don’t forget to like, comment, and reblog if you enjoyed! It means everything to me! 💖

(source)

Unsplash -  photography, illustration, and art

Pixabay - same as unsplash

Pexels - stock photos and videos

Stockvault.net - stock photos

freepngimg - icons, pictures and clipart

Veceezy - vectors and clipart

Getdrawings - simplistic images and drawing tutorials

Gumroad - photoshop brushes (and more)

Canva - needs login but has lots of templates

Library of Congress - historical posters and photos

NASA - you guessed it

Creative Commons - all kinds of stuff, homie

Even Adobe has some free images

There are so many ways to make moodboards, bookcovers, and icons without infringing copyright! As artists, authors, and other creatives, we need to be especially careful not to use someone else’s work and pass it off as our own. 

Please add on if you know any more sites for free images <3

MIDNIGHT HAZE — rin itoshi.

— notes ⨾ ive been shying away from posting this for too long now. [ sensual/making out ] and heavy on the details hahahs

Rin takes note of the way you're shrinking in your seat beside him, how your arms are protectively tucked in your sides and the subtle but sharp inhales.

from his peripheral vision, he can see that you're gnawing on your bottom lip, gulping hard to swallow your sniffles because he knows you don't like to be seen crying. which is why he's not sure why he's in his living room with you beside him at 2 am watching some sappy sad movie you picked. it's been an hour already since you started your movie marathon and he could've suggested you watch a horror movie instead— but he didn't, and he thinks he regrets it now.

He sighs, pausing the movie and reaching for the box of tissues he's glad he set on the table just in case. he offers it to you, smiling a little to himself when you hesitantly take it, as if you're still not ready to accept you're crying.

“you're such a crybaby” he says. by now a few tears are falling down your cheeks, leaving a damp trail behind in their wake.

“shut up, I'm not. i don't cry often, i swear”, you whimper with the wobble of your lip, and rin laughs. it's the irony of this scenario that swells his heart. you're looking at him with narrow, glassy eyes and warm hues setting on your skin. your words are meant to be firm and legitimate, but you're voice is hushed and low.

“okay, crybaby” he teases, and you pout.

his room glows in a faded shade of honey with the paper lamp you bought him as a housewarming gift. there's nothing but the sound of his steady breathing, and your quivering one. a touch of the scent of lemongrass from the air freshener lingers in the air and rin realises he's been staring at you.

there's still a dampness sticking to your cheeks and rin wants —such a treacherous thing to do— to trace his finger along the trails. feel the smoothness and warmth of your skin. when you realise he's looking at you, embarassment blooms in shades of fuchsia, “stop staring at me like that.”

rin hums. he heard you, doesn't think much about it. and before he realises what he's doing, he's caressing the side of your face. it's a ghost of a touch at first, “staring like what?”

“like you're doing right now” you breath hitches in your throat at the tenderness of rin's caress. momentarily closing your eyes, you lean into his touch. his gaze devours you whole, it makes you want to shrink further into the couch, but at the same time— daring you to wait and see where it takes you.

when all you can hear is the loud thumps of your own heart, watching the steady rise and fall of rin's shoulders as he's gazing through the soul window of your eyes, you're painfully aware that the two of you are alone.

“can't help it,” he mumbles. “god, you're beautiful” he says.

the faint glow of moonlight strips lines of silver across the room, and rin's bathed in luminescence. you can't help but trace the sharp white cut of his collarbone and the flutter of his eyelashes, over the broad expanse of his chest and the slopes of shoulders down to the ridges of hard muscle roping the length of his forearm. you take in his light. he takes in yours.

there are too many details. too much to breathe in yet not enough at the same time. a drug-like midnight haze encompasses the room, the air in the room is electrified and frozen still. rin's fingers travel down from your cheekbones to the corner of your mouth, then brush lightly against your chin.

you can't think. can't say anything. it's like your voice is caught in your own throat. all you feel is the heaviness of the air and the brushes of rin's fingers across your skin. mind blurring with the lines of a countless ‘what ifs’ and moments you've felt the same heaviness in the air, times when the glances you steal from each other lasted longer than they should've.

you swipe your tongue across your bottom lip, and rin's eyes follow the action. his gaze rests there and your falls to his.

there's a momentary pause, as if you're caught in a trance. as if there's hesitation and doubts filling the spaces left behind your words. rin's eyes are still set on your slightly parted lips.

and then it breaks.

you feel it in the form of a shiver running down your spine when the lightning in the room reaches a breaking point, you think rin feels it too. there's a shift in his shoulders when he leans forward at the very second time melts into infinity— a magnetic pull drawing you both in.

rin's other hand supports his weight when he practically crawls on all fours and rolls forward on the leg tucked beneath him.

his lips surround yours— desperate, heated, almost obscene. it's nowhere near the gentle caress from before. teeth nipping and tugging at your bottom lip, long and languid glides of tongue against tongue. he breathes in all of your gasps and mewls, chasing after your breaths to consume you whole like he's waited forever for this very moment. breaths tangle in heated knots of passion, you're holding onto rin's arms, aware that your hands are almost shaking. this is not your first kiss. you've kissed people before. but it's your first kiss with rin and he's made you forget there was anyone ever before him.

you pull away first, breathless and hot. it's addictive— the way rin's lips chase after yours, eyes fluttering open when he can't find them. but he's still close. so, so close. forehead resting on yours and hot breaths fanning against your mouth.

his eyes are brimming with awe and glimmer, but lips swollen and sinful. the contrast is striking— awestruck eyes and moon-bruised lips.

rin falls back into the couch, calming his staggered breaths and throbbing heart.

it takes a long minute before either of you speak again.

“do you regret it?” it's a whisper that's almost raw with desperation and fear. rin's eyes are glued to you again, waiting for an answer.

“i don't. i'd never regret it. do you?” though still breathless, your voice is bold.

“regret?—” he chuckles, as if you asked a dumb question, “—you have no idea, how long I've wanted this. wanted you.” it's a declaration— of all his unconfessed feelings, all the times he'd stopped himself just short of the breaking point. “i feel like i'm about to lose my mind.”

“me too”, is all you can say. it's all you can think.

and if rin senses that, then he smiles, “why don't we try that again?”

© seimirii 2023 [ plagiarism is a violation of moral rights ! ]

i hope this is what you wanted m'lady @rinnahhhh

mark / jopping

♡ BEAUTIFUL & DIRTY RICH.

you're the youngest scion of the world's most wealthy conglomerate owner, and with your older brother next-in-line to come into the role of chairman, you're free to run as wild as you like. and for you, that equates to getting into dating scandals nearly every other week, much to the chagrin of your management… though it’s not like they can say anything since you can get away with everything when you’re this beautiful & dirty rich.

✧ feat ; albedo, arataki itto, childe, diluc ragnvindr, gorou, kaedehara kazuha, kaeya alberich, kamisato ayato, scaramouche, shikanoin heizou, thoma, xiao x gn!reader

✧ warning(s) ; reader wears a skirt + heels at one point, alcohol mentions, drunk!reader, kinda suggestive

✧ a/n ; i have been brainrotting this concept since Forever and now i am forcing all of u to think abt it too >:) spot the xiao favouritism LMAO

please reblog + leave comments ! it helps a lot :)

✦ ALBEDO. [ kreideprinz ]

“you've got a press conference tomorrow afternoon at one,” albedo lists out your itinerary for the next day as you spin around in the chair at your desk. “and then lunch with lady ningguang at two.” “how about scheduling some time for us to go on a date instead?” you tease, a smirk curving your lips. “it's too late to change your schedule, mx y/n,” albedo answers without missing a beat. it's become a pastime of yours to attempt to fluster your cool personal assistant, and it's a common occurrence for you to flirt with him only to be immediately shut down. “what about kisses then? those are pretty quick.” albedo sighs, “may i remind you that you have barely a minute to spare tomorrow?” “a lot can be done in a minute,” you wink, and he stares at you, “i highly doubt even you can do much in the span of twenty seconds.” you groan, sliding down in the seat, “'bedo! would it kill you to play along sometimes?” “it won't kill me, but it might kill your schedule,” albedo shuffles the papers in his gloved hands. “and why is that?” “because,” he says simply, “i'd be too busy thinking about everything you've asked to do with me to get any work done.”

✦ ARATAKI ITTO. [ hanamizaka heroics ]

arataki itto is someone you shouldn’t be caught dead interacting with. despite that, you still find yourself picking up his calls and responding to his texts far too frequently. it started the day you were doing fansigns, as your autograph was highly coveted, and he was the only face that stood out to you in the sea of fans. itto had started by yelling a greeting, prompting your bodyguard to tense as if preparing a fight. you had laughed and returned it, and he had continued to explain that you were his idol and he had formed his own group in the hopes of reaching the same level of fame as you. the green-haired girl beside him scolded him for his antics, but you found him endearing, and for reasons only the archons know, you scribbled your number below your signature. which leads to now, where you now hear his enthusiastic voice through the speakers of your phone nightly as he rambles about his day and updates you on his progress with his gang. it’s a breath of fresh air for you to be exposed to someone so down-to-earth and honest about everything in comparison to the corrupt world you interact with daily. and if you start looking forward to these conversations? nobody else has to know, it’ll be a secret for you two alone.

✦ CHILDE. [ tartaglia ]

“idiot, there are cameras over there!” you tug childe behind a wall, flattening yourself against it as if to make yourself invisible to the paparazzi. “y’know, when you invited me out, i didn’t expect us to be running from the press the entire time,” he laughs, and you elbow him in the stomach, “hey, this time it’s your fault! everyone’s freaking out over the beloved snezhnayan boxer tartaglia returning from his special training in the abyss.” “ow! as if they wouldn’t die for a picture of the world’s hottest heir,” he winces and retorts. “you’re hotter, though, for sure,” you reply without looking back at him, peeking out from the wall to check if the reporters have left. “really? you think so?!” childe’s tone doesn’t betray how happy he actually is to hear that - he’s been in love with you from the day you enrolled in the same boxing class as him when you were both still learning to talk. “hmm…” you turn around and look him up and down, fixing him with your infamous judgemental stare, “objectively speaking, i think you are pretty hot. maybe a 7 on the ‘totally would spend the night with’ scale.” “only a 7?! whyyyy?” childe whines, and you laugh. you’d never admit how handsome you really think he is, and how it’s probably impossible to rank him on the aforementioned scale when you’ve been wanting that since forever. “anyways, i think this place is a no-go. maybe we should just head to your place instead,” you sigh, realising the eager paparazzi aren’t going to leave anytime soon. “sure! i’ve got a new bottle of firewater we could crack open too.” “then what are we waiting for? i can practically hear it calling my name already,” you skip off and childe rushes after you, “no fair, i was planning on doing that first!”

✦ DILUC RAGNVINDR. [ the dark side of dawn ]

the sound of clinking cutlery is the only thing audible at the table you're sharing with your potential suitor, diluc ragnvindr. “i'm diluc,” he attempts to break the silence, only for you to coldly reply with obvious apathy, “i know.” he swallows, unsure of how to continue with your clear lack of interest in the date, so he falls silent once more. guilt begins to prick at you for being so harsh, and you cave, “i’m sorry, diluc, that was rude of me. i’m just not very interested in getting married right now, or anytime soon if i’m being honest, so i don’t see the point of this dinner.” diluc blinks; once, twice, thrice before a smile begins to curve his lips, “thank goodness!” now it’s your turn to be confused, “what?” “i don’t want to get married either, this dinner was my manager’s idea. i wasn’t sure how to tell you without hurting your feelings,” he explains, and you beam, thanking your lucky stars that the crisis has been resolved, “then, why don’t we get out of here?” “what do you mean?” diluc tilts his head in confusion, and as his features are illuminated by the chandelier hanging above the two of you, you can understand why he’s often voted the most eligible bachelor of teyvat. “we can just hang out without all this formality! i promise it’ll be a night you’ll never forget,” you grin, reaching out your hand to pull him out of his seat. “sure,” diluc returns your smile, and to hide how flustered you are after realising that his smile is actually very pretty, you wink, “if you’re lucky, a deal with my brother’s company won’t be the only thing you leave with tonight!”

✦ GOROU. [ canine warrior ]

“mx y/n, that’s the third dating scandal this month!” gorou scolds, rushing after you as you stride down the corridor. “nice, new record!” you cheer, and gorou thinks you must take pleasure in driving him to an early grave because, “that isn’t a good thing!” “shame, because i was planning for my next one to be with you,” you wink before whipping out a compact mirror and reapplying your lipstick. gorou's stunned silent, mouth opening and closing like a goldfish for a few seconds before he composes himself, blocking out any and all thoughts of you ever dating him. but just as he's about to speak again you cut in, placing your hand on his shoulder and pulling him close, “imagine the headlines; useless scion elopes with their own public relations head! crazy, right? the public would eat that up.” gorou is this close to spontaneously combusting but thanks to his sheer willpower he manages to keep it together. but when you continue, “i bet stocks would rise like mad too, then you'd finally be able to get a better job than hounding me all the time, gorou,” that's when he speaks up with a passionate outburst, “no! i enjoy working for you, and i wouldn't change it for anything.” now it's your turn to be shocked, but you recover quickly as you grin, “what about in exchange for me never getting involved in controversy again?” gorou flinches before smiling, “you drive a hard bargain.” “you know it, gorou! and by the way, i was serious about what i said earlier. you can be my next scandal!” “what?!”

✦ KAEDEHARA KAZUHA. [ scarlet leaves pursue wild waves ]

kazuha’s been topping the charts ever since the release of his debut album, and with his dashing looks and charmingly flirtatious personality, he’s captured hearts across the globe - yours included. you know you’re bound to bump into him sooner or later with all the high-class events you both attend, but when it actually happens, you’re caught like a deer in headlights. it’s your birthday function out of all things, except this is the boring one you’re forced to host for the sake of maintaining business relationships and a popular image with the public, so you’re about to doze off at your table when someone plops into the seat beside you, “happy birthday!” upon recognising his voice you jerk your head up at once, “kaedehara kazuha?!” “y/n l/n?!” he imitates your tone, and you can’t help but beam, “i can’t believe you’re here, i love your music!” “thank you! and it’s wonderful to meet you, mx y/n. but it seems like you aren’t having a good time at your own party,” he raises an eyebrow, “why?” “this party is just for formalities, so it’s super boring,” you sigh, but then you smile, “i’m holding another one tomorrow night just for my friends and i though, if you’d like to come!” “it would be my honour,” kazuha says, “but how about we hype this party up too?” “how?” “i’ll perform onstage right now. a super special love song for y/n l/n’s birthday,” he deepens his voice so it sounds more dramatic, and it makes you laugh, “i get to see kazuha singing live? maybe this birthday isn’t so bad after all.” kazuha lifts your hand to his lips and presses a kiss to it with a wink, “i’m about to make this your best birthday ever.”

✦ KAEYA ALBERICH. [ frostwind swordsman ]

it’s been a while since you last saw kaeya. he’s incredibly elusive, showing up at the most random events when he feels like it, but the tabloids eat it all up and treat him like one of life’s great mysteries. to be honest, even you’re more than a little curious about the man with blue hair and the ability to do as he pleases without a care in the world. “looking for me, sweetheart?” you look beside you with surprise, and you’re met with the icy eye of the one and only kaeya alberich. “awfully arrogant of you to assume that, mr alberich,” you reply smoothly, matching his piercing gaze with one of your own. handing you a glass, he smirks, “call it intuition.” “i didn’t take you for a telepath,” you deadpan, taking it and nodding a thanks. “i wish i was, so i could understand what’s going on in that pretty head of yours,” kaeya drawls, “or even better, your heart.” “moving rather quickly, aren’t we?” you step nearer, and his enigmatic smile deepens, “isn’t that your style?” it seems like kaeya alberich is getting way too ahead of himself, and as the resident flirting monarch, you feel it’s your job to knock him down a few pegs. “no, this is,” and with that, you grab his tie and tug him closer, pressing a featherlight kiss to his cheek before pulling away as if nothing happened. “come find me later if you figure out how to match my style, kaeya,” a catlike smile graces your features and you disappear into the crowd on the ballroom floor, leaving a starstruck and quite possibly lovestruck kaeya behind.

✦ KAMISATO AYATO. [ pillar of fortitude ]

“you seem tense,” the famed model murmurs, tilting his head slightly to face you. his lips brush against the shell of your ear in the process, and you swear you’re about to melt into a puddle as you swallow, “who wouldn’t be, in a pose like this?” you’re pressed up against ayato’s torso, his arms wrapped around your waist with his chin resting on your shoulder, and for some reason the heat of his hands seem to be branding your skin even through the layer of fabric. “true. though with your long list of dating scandals, i expected you to be relaxed about this sort of thing,” he glances at you, and you can hear a note of amusement in his tone. “what’s that supposed to mean?” you roll your eyes, though you can’t help but be pleased that he seems to be aware of your reputation. “nothing in particular. i’m just wondering if i could be added as the latest on the list,” ayato replies teasingly, and your eyes dart to his with barely concealed surprise, “really?” his gaze dips to your lips for a millisecond that seems to last far too long, “yes.” “slow down, pretty boy,” you regain your composure enough to smirk, “how about you start by just giving me your number?” ayato mirrors your expression, mischief glimmering in his irises, “yeah, i can do that.”

✦ SCARAMOUCHE. [ kunikuzushi ]

“you’re planning on going out wearing that?” the disgust in your stylist’s tone is obvious, he’s not even trying to hide how he feels about your outfit. “yeah, what about it? it’s cute!” you spin around, admiring how the skirt flares as you twirl. scaramouche would rather die than admit how cute he actually thinks you look as you show off the outfit, so he settles for scoffing, “cute if you’re going for a ‘just picked this out of the trash’ aesthetic.” “fuck you,” you laugh, “this is from the latest liyue collection!” you never take his insults seriously, and scaramouche has a love-hate relationship with how his comments are like water off a duck’s back for you. on one hand, if he actually did hurt your feelings, he might just collapse, but on the other hand it also feels like you’re always laughing at him. “liyue designers lost their touch last century,” he rolls his eyes and offers you his hand to pull you into your walk-in closet, “c’mon, if you really want to go out, i’ll pick an outfit for you.” “ooh, scara, you should totally come with me! then we can match outfits,” you lean into him, raising your eyebrows suggestively, “we could look like a couple~” scaramouche desperately hopes you don’t see the red blush darkening his cheeks right now or he’d never hear the end of it from you, so he turns away, “fine, i’ll come. only so you don’t look awful if we bump into paparazzi.” you giggle, seeing an opportunity to tease him further, “then it’s a date!” “no it isn’t!”

✦ SHIKANOIN HEIZOU. [ analytical harmony ]

for a bodyguard, shikanoin heizou sure does talk a lot. whether he’s analysing your every interaction for a hint of dishonesty from the other party, or making flirty comments whenever the two of you are alone, he never shuts up. it was your brother's idea to get you a personal guard, and out of all the candidates, he picked the playful one with mischievous olive eyes and a smirk always tugging at his lips – you don't understand why. you're confused until the first time you see him in action, which happens to be at a fashion event where some creep snuck in. in one swift movement, heizou pulls you behind him with a whisper, “i’ll deal with this,” before darting forward and incapacitating the stalker with a few well-placed punches and a final kick to his stomach. after handing off the weirdo to the gawking security personnel, heizou rushes back to you, “are you okay?” “yeah… i just didn’t know you could fight like that.” “well, i wouldn’t be much of a good bodyguard if i couldn’t fight, would i? anyways, you can praise me now,” he strikes a pose as if expecting applause. “don’t let it get to your head, dumbass,” you laugh at his antics, “but you were pretty cool.” “i know,” he smirks, “and now you know i’m good with my hands.” “heizou!”

✦ THOMA. [ protector from afar ]

you’ve never seen the cleaners of your penthouse. sure, you pay them, but you’re almost never at home to see who they actually are and to thank them for their hard work. just your luck that the one time you’re having an awful day and crying at home is the day one of them come in. he walks into the room humming, hands shoved casually into his pockets until he catches sight of you, “huh? wait, mx y/n?! i’m so sorry for intruding, i didn’t realise you were at home.” “it’s fine,” you brush it off, well aware that you look like a total mess right now with your puffy face, “but i’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell anyone about this.” “of course not!” he blurts out before falling silent again. this has got to be the most awkward moment of your life. someone walked in on you sobbing your eyes out and looking like you just left a horror movie set, and to top it off it's someone you don't even know – it's enough to make you want to burst into tears again, and unfortunately you're currently so emotional that you actually do. “hey, hey, hey, what's going on?” the person from earlier is in front of you in a flash, “do you want to talk about it?” “i don't even know your name!” you manage to hiccup while crying. “oh, right! i'm thoma,” he introduces himself. “it might be easier for you to rant to a stranger, and i can promise you,” he mimes zipping his mouth, “my lips are sealed.” honestly at this point you so desperately need a shoulder to cry on that you'd take anyone, even the incredibly handsome man you met around five minutes ago. so you launch into a huge tirade about your insecurities and problems, and throughout it all thoma listens intently with a straight face, nodding at intervals and offering advice only when you ask – you might just need to marry him after opening up so much and receiving such a good response.

✦ XIAO. [ vigilant yaksha ]

it seems like xiao never talks. it’s not exactly a bad thing, especially since he’s kept his mouth shut about more than a few shady places he’s dropped you off at, but you find yourself wanting to know more about the mysterious driver with the amber eyes. however, you’re greeted with silence whenever you attempt to start a conversation or ramble about your day, and you’re beginning to think you’ll never get to talk to him. until one night, when you stumble into the limousine later than usual reeking of alcohol, clutching your heels in one hand and your bag in the other. xiao’s already surprised enough by how you’ve clambered into the passenger seat rather than the spacious rear lounge, but when you lean over to him and clutch the lapels of his crisp white shirt, he’s pretty sure he’s on the brink of a heart attack. “xiaooo~” you whine, slurring the syllables of his name, “why do you hate me?” he thinks you won’t remember this the next morning, so it should be fine to reply, “i don’t hate you.” “liar! you never want to talk to me!” you pull away, tears brimming in your eyes and threatening to spill down your cheeks. “no, no, no, don’t cry,” xiao doesn’t know how to comfort anyone, but the sight of you crying is something he never wants to see, so he quickly wraps his arm around your shoulder, rubbing circles on your back, “i can’t talk while i’m working, that’s all.” “then… what about after?” you sniffle, “after work?” “yeah!” “i could probably talk then.” “okay, good, because you’re super handsome, and i love your hair, and your eyes, and your face,” your eyes light up, and you tousle his hair, moving to poke his cheek and cup his face with your hands, “and just everything!” xiao’s face is practically a tomato right now, and he tips his hat down to hide his expression, “i like everything about you too.” “yay! then let’s talk after work!” you cheer, sliding back into your seat. “sure, if you remember,” he replies with a soft chuckle while starting the car again. “of course i will! it’s a promise~”

yet another formatting change bye but this is cute i think i'll stick w it :> // general masterlist

© starglitterz 2022. do not repost or modify in any way.

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.

next episode. unavailable.

note. i surprised myself with how much plot this actually has.

零 ; you, the typecasted “passerby a”

the path to stardom is an arduous journey, but you've already abandoned your dreams not even halfway down the road.

you are far from the fresh newbie you once were. maybe you hoped to be famous at some point, your name sung in ardent praises and joint with stellar performances, but you've never received major roles that strayed from “classmate b” or “the protagonist's best friend” who only ever appears to give advice.

the closest you've been to getting a main character role is being part of the second pairing of a cheesy romance drama that never became a hit, a series with a generic plot and a bland cast of no name actors.

but you can't deny the spark of hope lighting your heart when you receive word of an audition for an upcoming drama adaptation of a well-loved webtoon series, a series you are an avid fan of. it's a murder mystery following a genius detective striving to solve a serial killings cold case, with snippets of romance and the occasional comedy, grim as the premise may be.

once the drama adaptation was confirmed, it quickly became a hot topic; fans are anticipating the casting and filming crew, expecting nothing less of perfection to honor the brilliant source material. by all accounts, it's big news, and snagging even a minor role would definitely earn you more recognition.

if you're chosen to act as the victim in the first murder, you would already be beyond satisfied—being part of such a masterpiece is enough to make you overjoyed. you don't have too high hopes but there's no harm in trying for the audition, right?

yes. no harm at all.

that's if you don't count the brain damage you suffered when your head slammed against the wall from complete shock as you received an e-mail from the staff confirming your admittance to the project.

as the protagonist's love interest, no less—a journalist investigating the serial murders to enact revenge on their younger brother's stead, the third victim in the killings.

一 ; xiao, the celebrity crush

acting practice is generally considered a casual affair in every project you've taken on, yet you couldn't help but spend hours trying to make yourself look presentable (and avoid looking like a beggar compared to your shining idols when you stand side by side). you may be a tad bit overdressed, but you'd hate to make a fool out of yourself on day one.

except that is exactly what you do. because you're a walking disaster.

in your defense, it's not even your fault! the moment you step foot in the venue, you're ushered by the staff to a row of waiting rooms... without any nameplates attached by the doors and no indication of where you're supposed to go. left with no other choice, you mentally count eeny meeny miny moe and surge forward for the chosen room.

you can't tell if you're tremendously lucky or the most unfortunate person on earth, but you come face to face with a person you never thought you'd see in the flesh.

the thing is, the staff never informed you of your future colleagues. the casting is a well-kept secret, even from the actors themselves, to prevent information leaks to the media before the official announcement.

you really wish you had time to prepare yourself before you had to meet xiao, though.

he's lounging by the sofa, curls of dark hair sprawled on the cushions. his face is obscured by an eye mask, fashioned in a cute design you wouldn't expect him to take an interest in at all. if you took a picture of him right now and printed them as merchandise, you're sure they'll sell like hotcakes, but a selfish part of you wants to keep this sight to yourself.

yes, because... because you've been crushing on him since forever!

you've seen his growth as an actor as far back as five years ago, when he only just started his career! he made the perfect mysterious pretty boy male lead, and the romance film he starred in was such a good classic! but he didn't get typecasted, no no. he went beyond his pretty boy persona to work in other productions, where he acted as the crazed antagonist in a horror movie. that, too, eventually became a classic film for any horror movie fan. his murderous glare is just too damn scary!

he's excellent in action-packed movies as well, there's never a need for stunt doubles with him. you've seen his behind the scene clips, and they're just awesome. he doesn't speak much in interviews, his replies clipped and hardly substantial, but you try to catch each piece of precious footage.

oh fuck i shouldn't be here. you snap back to your senses and reach for the doorknob, but the creaking sound of the door prompts xiao to twitch.

a pale hand drags down the eye mask to his chin, and his dazed golden eyes pin you in place.

“...who are you?”

it's a simple question, but it's like you're trying to prove your innocence to court. you begin to ramble, introducing yourself in a series of stutters, and explaining how you got to his room. you insist you aren't there to peep on him and it was a complete accident.

“...so you entered my room by mistake,” xiao summarizes your ten paragraphs-worth of explanation into a single concise sentence. he doesn't look angry, but doesn't look pleased by your presence either. “it's fine. i could guess the staff was too busy to show you your room.” he sits up properly, fixing his hair messy from his nap. “you're the journalist, right? i look forward to working with you.”

rather than a job, filming feels more like a reward. you get to see xiao everyday, get to talk to xiao even if it's just you commenting on the weather, get to eat with him in lunch breaks (you're seven seats away from him but that counts, right?) and get to act alongside him-

and xiao is the second male lead. you get to act romantic scenes with him. you get to act lovey-dovey with xiao in a police uniform because he's a policeman in this show.

each brush of your hands together sends your heart racing in a speed too fast to be healthy, but as an actor, you're expected to keep your composure and deliver your lines properly.

(the makeup artist is always wondering why you look so red on screen when she swears she didn't put much blush on you, though.)

“don't you need to ask something of me?”

you blink innocently as you peel off the heavy costume, the last scene for the day finally wrapped up. xiao must be feeling hot too because he's also wearing a huge coat in the middle of summer—his face is beet red.

“ask you for something...?” your cheeks burn bright. “oh no, was i too obvious?”

xiao awkwardly looks away. “you could say that.”

how mortifying! you fan your face, hoping your makeup isn't too melted. you already feel like an idiot, no need to look like one.

but xiao already thinks you're stupid. no turning back now.

“o... okay... since the cat is out of the bag, then...” you pull out a pen and a piece of paper, holding it out to him. “please give me your autograph!”

“...what.”

“i've been your fan for the last five years! i don't know who ratted me out, actually i'm about 87% sure it's childe, but since you know-”

“wait- what? five years?”

“.........if that's not what you're talking about, then what is?”

“no, i thought you wanted me to ask me ou-”

he seals his lips at the most crucial moment, horrified at himself. “sorry. i'll ask you another time.”

... and then he walks away. just like that.

“xiao, what about my autograph?!”

“forget it!”

“why all of a sudden?!”

二 ; childe, the scandal magnet

notorious for the massive number of scandals under his belt, it's a surprise to find ajax (with a stage name of childe) in the set of this major production. you're advised by your manager to steer clear of him and avoid unnecessary contact to prevent sullying your reputation, but you can't deny his acting prowess—he shines on the stage, a performance you can't tear your eyes away from.

he's incredibly versatile, capable of taking on any role and absorbing the character to make it come to life, almost as if he is its incarnation.

it starts as a simple game before actual practice, each actor asked to draw lots from pieces of paper scribbled with different roles, and given an accompanying script to base off of.

everyone laughs when childe, ironically enough, draws the “womanizer who cheats on his lover.”

unfortunately, you couldn't laugh along with them because you picked the “lover” role. your incredible (read: atrocious) luck astounds you.

it goes just about as well as everyone expects it. childe, seemingly in his element, plays the part of a perfect scumbag. it's easy to hate him like this, all flamboyant gestures and empty promises of “you are my one and only.” his performance inspires you to try harder, and so you raise your voice, your passionate screams of indignance almost sounding heart-felt, like you truly are experiencing a severe betrayal.

when childe sweeps you into his arms, whispering platitudes dripping with honey, you're nearly fooled into forgiving him.

it's hard to get yourself out of the role when the director ends the scene, satisfied with the act. childe's expression returns to its usual lazy grin, a far cry from the smug smirk prior, and he pats your head to wake you up. “nice work. i really felt like i was getting scolded by an angry girlfriend.”

dazzled by his brilliance, you barely have enough coherence to return the compliment.

your awe doubles when he performs his next act.

much to xiao's horror, he picks the “dying younger brother” role, a direct accompaniment to childe's “grieving older brother.” they make an... interesting pair, but they're also professionals, and the scene they perform almost makes you weep real tears.

xiao lays limp on the floor like a lifeless doll, and childe cradles him to his chest, delivering his lines with sobs and cries that sound too real to be an act. his heart-wrenching wails bounce from the walls, going straight to strike your heart. his voice cuts through the air, demanding your attention, as if telling you to keep your eyes on him and to never look away.

it's nothing like the sleazebag character he was playing twenty minutes ago, and you have to remind yourself your scripts are only given once you've drawn lots; he had a maximum of five minutes to read through it, process the information, decide how to deliver his lines, and visualize himself performing it in the best way possible.

like this, he doesn't look at all like the scandalous man everyone makes him out to be. he's just an earnest man who's good at pretending to be someone else.

it's terrifying to think about. did he ever act like his true self when the cameras stopped rolling, then? was he just playing the part of a “good co-worker” when he was talking to you earlier? was the whole “scandalous womanizer” image something he set up for himself? a reputation he deliberately made to attract the media's attention? it isn't unusual for actors to cause drama as a publicity stunt, after all.

no, that doesn't make sense. no matter how desperate, nobody would like bad rumors circulating about them. as much as your name is spread around, it also goes hand in hand with distasteful gossip. childe is plenty famous, even before the scandals began popping up, so he never really needed them and they would only further ruin his image...

...on the contrary, if there's anyone getting famous from those scandals, it's...

...the girls he supposedly hooked up with?

rather than making those scandals for fame, doesn't it make more sense if those girls fabricated stories and took advantage of his reputation?

it's no secret that meddlesome paparazzi and hardcore fans obsessively pry into celebrities' personal lives. if they sniff a hint of dating scandals, they don't stop digging. furthermore, once the media releases information to the public, people will take it as fact. in actuality, it doesn't matter what's true or not; what the public wants to believe becomes the “truth.”

if the people deemed it plausible, if they thought “childe would definitely do something like this, so of course if the girl says they hooked up in the dressing room, they did”...

...even if childe denied those claims, nobody would believe him. not even you. you didn't think about it until now. in fact, at the very beginning, you already had assumptions about him, devouring the media's lies.

childe laughs when you apologize to him. it was certainly a shock when you suddenly knocked on his door, then the instance he opened it, you began to bow deeply, nearly slamming your forehead to his chest.

“i'm used to it, don't worry.” he smiles, but it doesn't reach his eyes. “you were so stiff around me, it was pretty obvious what you thought of me. but you didn't have to apologize.”

“no, i do! i was being disrespectful!” you insist, taking him by surprise when you grab the lapels of his jacket. “you're nothing like what they say! i'm sure you've been through a lot just because everyone keeps saying whatever they want, without thinking of your feelings... and everyone laughed that one time we played the acting game... i... i can't take back the time i've spent being suspicious of you, but i want to change that!” you stare directly at his widened eyes, determined. “i want to know you better, ajax!”

the use of his real name stuns him and for a moment, all he can do is gape at you.

then he narrows his eyes, his lips shaping to a firm line, and he tugs you inside the room.

a yelp unwittingly escapes your mouth when you're pressed against the door, his arms caging either side of you. his expression is unfamiliar now, unlike anything you've ever seen before; uncharacteristically stern, harsher around the edges, spiteful gaze boring holes into your skull.

“you want to know me better... some pretty words you just said. what do you actually want?”

your breath hitches when his hand caresses your cheek, but the striking glare he's giving you makes you think he wants to sink his nails deep into your skin instead.

“this isn't the first time someone tried to approach me, you know. what, you want to be friends with me? you're going to ask if i can invite you to my house? then you're going to tell people how i took advantage of you while you were sleeping?”

“what- no! of course not!” you yell, face heating up just by the thought of it. “nevermind lying to the media, i don't have the guts to sleep over a guy's house i barely even know!”

his expression falls to a deadpan. “oh. my bad. you're quite pure, aren't you. of course you wouldn't.”

“that's what makes you believe me?!”

the arms caging you falls to his sides as he walks away, leaving you dumfounded. “right, right, sorry for scaring you. can't you let me off easy? it's pretty hard to trust someone when you're in my position. if i treat you to dinner, will you forgive me?”

“i... i came here with good intentions... now i feel as though i was harassed...”

his usual smile falls on his face, like he's a completely different person from the man who trapped you just seconds prior. “what do you think about seafood? i'll let you eat as many crabs as you like. i really am sorry, promise. if you were saying the truth earlier, then i'd be glad to know you better too, [name].”

you give him a look. “...if they saw us entering a restaurant together, wouldn't that attract rumors?”

“hm? is everyone so narrow-minded they think anyone who eats together is in an illicit relationship?”

the answer is no, so you eat as much crabs and shrimp as you want to your heart's content. you're getting your food's worth for that fright he caused earlier. childe isn't complaining anyway, only impressed with how much dishes you're practically inhaling.

in any case, it isn't a date. there is no ambience or heart-pounding romance of any sort. not when you're overtly taking advantage of his money and childe's taking ugly pictures of you mid-bite.

but then, of course, the media takes note of it; the topic of your outing is brought up at an interview, to which you fret and panic because you were never popular enough to be interviewed before, and they're asking if you're fucking childe, of all things-

“what are you talking about?” childe pops up behind you, unhelpfully wrapping an arm around your shoulders as if he wants to add fuel to the fire. he chuckles, tilting your chin to lean closer to his face. “i'm just pursuing [name]. nothing's happened yet. unless [name] wants to...”

you take it back. he's definitely at fault for having this many scandals.

三 ; albedo, the male lead

the first day of rehearsals, the protagonist of the drama isn't even there.

to your astonishment, nobody complains about it. twenty minutes into practice (most scenes skipped due to the protagonist's absence), the director gets a call and excuses himself outside. less than a minute after, he informs everyone the star of the show won't be able to make it.

the actors trade unsure looks, wondering what the hell is going on, but the rest of the staff remain unfazed. the director notices and explains, “it's albedo. his busy schedule can't be helped. his manager called me to let me know his flight got delayed.”

and then it makes much more sense.

albedo is well-renowned in the film industry, an extraordinary talent who first came into showbiz three years ago. it's not at all a long time, but it's long enough for him to receive countless awards and bountiful movie offers—he was just born for the stage. if anything, this drama is lucky to have him in it, not the other way around. a late arrival for a rehearsal is nothing. he could probably disappear for two months without telling anybody and when he comes back, the director would beg him to act for the drama for twice the pay. (an exaggeration, but you get the point.)

and... you're expected to partner with him? you? a speck of dust compared to the sun that is albedo? you have to match his brilliance and not look like a turd beside him on screen? you have to be equals with him and- and you actually get to- you get to hold hands with him, kiss him, and- those couple stuff? everything? his fans would murder you if your mother doesn't kill you first! you know she likes his movies a lot!

the fourth day of rehearsals, he finally comes to the set. not with an air of arrogance or excessive pride. he just exudes confidence, strutting to the room in an elegant poise you can't hope to replicate. he gives his sincere apologies for the inconvenience to the staff, all polite bows and offer of recompense.

“but there's no reason to worry,” he declares, gaze steely. “i won't make any more trouble for you.”

he refuses when the director suggests taking it slowly and instead goes straight to practice. but it doesn't look like he needs any of it at all.

as if he's been here all along, he falls into place with the other actors, not a single awkward pause in their scripted conversations and everything smooth sailing. he delivers a flawless performance, like the cameras are already rolling and he's practiced for tens of thousands of times already, not read through a portion of the script in the car ride towards the set.

there is one thing he's struggling with, however.

“you're too stiff with each other,” the acting coach comments, frowning slightly at the two of you and cutting the scene short. “rather than bickering, it's like you're actually arguing, and that's not what we want to portray.”

you blink, exchanging a look with albedo, and look down at his collar you're still gripping.

maybe you do look like you're trying to strangle him instead of pulling him closer to your face for some good ol' sexual tension.

originally, the characters you play didn't get along well in the beginning of the webtoon; the genius detective didn't like to rely on others, conceited enough to believe he can solve the case on his own, hence seeing the journalist as a hindrance since they kept pestering him to let them help him, and he help them in turn so they could work together. the detective didn't deem them “useful” for the investigation, and it was only much later that he (begrudgingly) admitted the journalist can be helpful... sometimes. thus officially starting their partnership for the investigation, and later on, partners in the romantic sense.

there were quite a lot of bickering scenes before the actual romance commenced, and you're struggling with finding a delicate balance to that—where exactly do you draw the line between petty squabbles and severe disputes? how do you show the chemistry between these two characters while butting heads in every instance? the enemies to lovers trope is harder to act than it seems.

“try to get familiar,” the director suggests. “you're stiff because you don't know each other well. you're too shy to touch or get closer. why not leave early and go on a little date by yourselves to fix that?”

“is that really okay...?” you say, unsure. besides being hesitant to leave earlier than the rest, you're also nervous to be alone with your co-actor.

“if he says it's fine, then it's fine.” albedo shrugs, starting to walk towards the dressing room and tugging you along. “but if we're going outside, we should wear disguises. it's also fine if we borrow some of your clothes, right?”

“of course, of course~” the director indulges him. “have fun, kiddos.”

as it turns out, albedo is a master of disguise. he doesn't even have a wig or anything but you almost can't recognize him clad in casual attire. he also almost looks like a stylist while figuring out what outfit to give you, and you're left in awe when you look at yourself in the mirror wearing clothes you wouldn't normally pick out yourself but they look really, really good on you, and they do a good job changing your image too. not that you think anybody would recognize you anyway, unpopular and all.

“where do you want to go?” you trail after him on the way to the bus station, always a step or two behind. albedo makes a humming noise, subtly slowing his pace to match your strides.

“why not just go wherever our feet takes us?” he pipes up. “as long as it's not teeming with people, of course.”

so with zero preparation at all, you do just that. you stop by a bookstore, with you showing him around the comics section and him adamantly insisting the plain hard-cover literature he's picking up is a thrilling epic that will definitely pique your interest, [name] stop yawning-

you pay a visit to the arcade, where you find albedo is clumsy with his feet and can't play dance dance revolution to save his life, but also unnecessarily adept with claw machines because he has a little sister who loves getting stuffed toys. you compete over who gets the most points in the basketball game to decide who pays for dinner, end up in a tie, and move on to a zombie shooting game. you win by a narrow margin and albedo tells you so, but you point a finger at the results and tell him to cough up the cash. then you play around in the photo booth using the craziest filters, and you take the liberty of pasting stickers everywhere.

dinner is a simple affair. albedo looks ready to go to some michelin star establishment but you introduce him to a sushi restaurant that's relatively cheap. he's impressed by the way you swipe at the conveyor belt so quickly. okay, so you may look like an utter glutton right now, but it's fine. not the first time you embarrassed yourself in front of a co-actor.

lastly, you stop by an ice cream shop to get gelato. your appetite is “awe-inspiring,” as albedo put it, but you argue there's always room for dessert.

“will this actually help us, though...?” you sigh, eating a spoonful of gelato. “i don't understand the difference between bickering and arguing.”

“we've done it the whole day,” albedo reminds you, using a tissue to clean the residue of cream on your cheek. “we'll do just fine.”

you stare at him in disbelief. “...is this also one of your habits from taking care of your sister?”

“ah. you could say that.”

just as albedo said, filming goes a lot more smoothly. the playful air is a huge improvement compared to last time when they said you looked ready to beat him to submission. the romantic tidbits are coming along well, too, spun between action-packed scenes where you're pressed against albedo in a slim locker to hide from the murderer lurking nearby or sweet slice of life moments outside of the investigation.

at last, the confession scene is upon you. just a while back, the two main characters got into a full-blown argument; the detective was irritated by the lack of progress in the investigation, and deduced his feelings were distracting him. he decided to keep the journalist at arm's length, never allowing them to go close. of course, they didn't react well to this, and so they pester him again, but the argument became heated and it eventually peaked to “you're an inconvenience to me!” which led them to separate ways.

the journalist, desperate to solve the case on their own, approached people who seemed to be in the know. they were nearly pulled into bed by an attractive yet suspicious man, who's genuinely interested in the journalist romantically and used intel on their younger brother's murder as leverage, but they get interrupted by the detective pounding on the door.

he dragged the journalist out, thoroughly upset at the notion of selling themself, but they deny the accusations and claim they were tricked.

the argument stretched longer, the both of them airing out everything they dislike about the other, but the detective accidentally slipped and confessed his real feelings. the journalist, who never thought of him that way, was frozen on the spot.

it's a long scene requiring much preparation. aside from the amount of lines you have to memorize, there's also a hotel suite you have to borrow for the shoot, the cameras they need to set for the “dragging” scene that has a lot of movement, the really awkward half-bedroom scene you have to act with your co-actor, and the fact that you have to take the confession scene before the sun completely set.

it's truly a busy day. anxiety plagued you the moment you came out of the makeup room, knowing what comes next.

but it's a job, and one especially you couldn't afford to slack on. the kind-of-but-not-really-bedroom scene goes without a hitch, but albedo interrupts you a tad bit too early; the top of your shirt is barely unbuttoned but he's already storming in, ripping you out of the other man's grasp.

the director doesn't chide him for it however, and he drags you out of the hotel as planned. you're a bit frazzled by the suddenness of it all, clothes still rumpled, but it adds on to your acting and your stuttering questions make the scene look more natural.

albedo's fury seeing you in such a disheveled state seems almost genuine, too.

“why are you acting like this?!” you pull your wrist away in an effort to make him let go, as described in the script, but albedo refuses to. an improvisation, perhaps? but now of all times...? “you didn't care about me before! are you trying to be nice now? didn't you say you were sick of putting up with me? you hated me for being stupid, right? guess what, then! i was stupid enough to get almost taken advantage of! if you're just going to lecture me, let go. i don't want to hear any of it. i already know how much of a fool i am.”

you're supposed to back away now, but he doesn't let you do that either. for one step backward, he takes two forward, nose nearly brushing with yours in the close proximity. your face heats up in a combination of confusion and embarrassment, your ears barely registering his lines.

“...never listen to me. you always go off on your own and i still think you're a reckless idiot. you're noisy and brash and you annoy me to no end,” he says in one breath, staring deeply into your eyes. “but seeing you with someone else annoys me even more. to the point i'd abandon everything just to get you back.”

“w...” your throat is incredibly dry. “why would you...”

“whether i like it or not, you've become important to me. i love your stupid laugh and your stupid smile. i love the way you look at me, and i don't want you to look at anyone else. you drive me crazy when you put yourself in danger because i don't want to lose you. i want you so badly that i want you to only think about me, spend time only with me, only love me. i-”

you're fairly certain this is nowhere near his lines in the script.

“i love you so much that it scares me.” his voice trembles as his hand lifts to cup your face, something that finally bears semblance to the original scene. “it was wrong of me to say those horrible things. not just last time. i've been terrible to you, and no amount of apologies can make up for it. but i ask only one more chance.”

his finger hovers at the corner of your lip.

“[name], won't you only look at me?”

you gape like a fish out of water, unable to reply. you're trying to remember your lines, flipping through the mental script in your head, but the director's “cut!” pulls you back to reality.

albedo blinks, getting himself out of the role, and he lets go of you reluctantly, the heat of his fingers lingering on your skin.

“the scene was good, but you said the wrong name.” the director laughs. “it's alright. we can still shoot where we last left off. return to your positions.”

as told, you go back to your previous position. you give a furtive glance at albedo, whose cheeks flare in humiliation. he's probably never done such a rookie mistake before. there's no reason to be that flustered about it; you've made the same error plenty of times.

“i apologize. i won't do it again next time.”

(if he's going to confess, the least he can do is make his own lines for the occasion.)

next episode ; unavailable. preview →

四 ; ayato, the cannon fodder

五 ; scaramouche, the best friend

六 ; thoma, the former male lead

七 ; kazuha, ???