Hope You Don't Mind Dion Or Jeremy Reacting To Their S/o Getting Kidnapped. I Just Want To See The World

Hope you don't mind Dion or Jeremy reacting to their s/o getting kidnapped. I just want to see the world burns lol

DION AGRICHE, JEREMY AGRICHE (SEPARATE) ⍣ GENDER-NEUTRAL READER

synopsis. his reaction to you getting kidnapped.

DION is eerily calm - at least on the outside - when he hears the news of your kidnapping from your bodyguard, johann. roxana watches him closely, as if expecting her half-brother to kill him for failing to protect you, and raises an eyebrow when dion approaches him.

he surprises johann by kneeling down to his level, and the bodyguard trembles like a leaf, fearing his impending doom. it's no secret that dion favours you a lot, and if he finds even a tiny bruise on your delicate skin, he's already walking away with the tip of his sword dragging across the floor.

kidnapping you - in other words, stealing what's his - is enough to anger dion, although it doesn't show on his expression. but he's even angrier at johann for failing to do his simple job of keeping you safe.

grabbing his jaw roughly, dion asks him, "what did they look like?" his expression is unreadable, and that only scares johann further. he's struggling to answer because truthfully, he doesn't know. one moment you were there, and the next you were gone. his head would surely roll if he gives dion that answer.

dion grows impatient and as he stands up, raising his sword to behead johann, roxana quickly stops him and says that she knows the identities of the people who had kidnapped you and where you're kept thanks to her butterflies. he'd demand her to tell him everything, his desperation to have you back in his arms becoming evident.

he doesn't need a detailed plan to rescue you; he'll do what he usually does and make it rain blood. as he throws his black cloak over his head, he strides out of the agriche residence with his sword in hand, ready to make your kidnappers reap what they had sown. oh, he'll make them regret kidnapping his beloved butterfly.

JEREMY is beyond pissed. he's furiously turning his entire room upside down, smashing whatever his hands come across on the floor as he yells at your poor bodyguard for being useless and incompetent. he returned to the manor hoping to spend some quality time in your embrace, only to be told that some fools had kidnapped you. not an ideal welcome home greeting.

"well, don't just stand there! organise a search party and find (y/n) right now! if i find even a tiny scratch on their body, i'll turn you all into demon chow!" he shouts. his anger is clouding his judgement, and jeremy proceeds to punch the wall in frustration. just who decided to ruin his day by taking advantage of his absence to kidnap you?

after taking deep breaths, he manages to calm down slightly. he's not going to accept this. you had promised to stay by his side no matter what, and in return he had promised to protect you... he grits his teeth. you both can still keep your promises, and he's determined to fulfill his by saving you himself.

before johann could scramble out of his room, jeremy clamps a hand down on his shoulder. "you stay here. i'll handle this myself," he says before shoving the bodyguard aside to storm into the hallway. he'd ask a few of his half-siblings for help, and convincing them is easy; he only needs promise them that they can kill your kidnappers and take whatever they like from the corpses, whether it'd be jewels, trinkets, their nails or even their eyeballs...

jeremy is already grinning sinisterly at the thought of giving hell to your kidnappers. they'd be wishing they were dead by the time he's done mutilating their bodies beyond recognition, and his precious angel will be safe and sound again.

"no one takes (y/n) from me and gets away with it," he mutters.

Scaramouche

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.)

: ̗̀➛ Cyno x Gn!Reader ft. Tighnari

: ̗̀➛ He misunderstands the situation when he finds you on the ground with Tighnari on top of you.

As you were making your way back to the rangers' camp after your usual patrol, you jumped upon feeling something tiny crawling along your back. The feathery yet prickly sensation reminded you of an insect, prompting you to make a beeline for Tighnari who was just leaving his room.

"Tighnari, help me! There's a bug in my clothes!" you cried, frantically patting around your body. Tighnari's eyes widened as his ears stood upright in surprise.

"Don't move around too much! It might bite you," he said, grabbing your wrists. You squealed in shock upon feeling the bug crawl up towards your nape, and impulsively crouched whilst pulling him down with you. "(Y/n), calm down!" When you showed no signs of cooperating due to your hysteria, he sighed sharply and tore your shirt open, mentally apologising to you as he did so.

"Take it out, take it ouuut!" you screamed with tears in your eyes. Tighnari's hands roamed around your body in search for the annoying bug and the moment he felt it skitter over his fingers, he quickly caught it and pulled his hand out.

"Got it!" He then showed the bug to you, a smile of relief spreading over his lips. "Good thing it's just an ant-" He stopped abruptly when he felt an ominous aura behind him, and the ears of the shadow looming over the two of you immediately gave away the person's identity.

Cyno was going to check up on Collei today and had heard your scream. Worried that something terrible was happening to you, he bolted in the direction he heard your voice come from only to see Tighnari straddling you on the ground. One of Tighnari's hands laid flat against your bare torso, and it looked like your shirt had been ripped open by him.

Without context, the risqué sight no doubt caused Cyno to misunderstand the situation.

Gaze darkening, he swiftly summoned his spear as he said, "Tighnari. Don't move."

"W-wait, it's not what it looks like! You've got the wrong idea!"

HII I HOPE YOU DONT MIND ME REQUESTING <3333 Can i request a jeremy and Dion dating an overall sweetheart female reader, who's just really gentle and sweet? :D tysm again!

DION AGRICHE, JEREMY AGRICHE (SEPARATE) ⍣ FEMALE READER

synopsis. when you got isekai'd into your favourite manhwa, you didn't expect to find yourself dating an agriche - especially since the two of you are polar opposites.

warnings. mentions of torture and killing (not towards reader), possessiveness.

author's notes. ok ok hear me out- i know you didn't request for isekai!reader, but i thought that the concept of her dating the agriche boys because she's a simp for them would be fun to play around with. she has the traits that you mentioned though!

when DION went to the border to dispose of the pedelian guards just like his father had ordered him to, he didn't expect to witness you falling from the sky. for the first time in his life, he was surprised - and the fact that he felt an emotion compelled him to catch you in his arms.

the moment you realised that you had stopped falling, you opened your eyes and nearly screamed. even though dion was wearing a hood and a half face mask, you recognised his bright red eyes immediately. of all the possible characters in the manhwa, it had to be dion agriche who found you first; you didn't know if you should squeal in joy since your favourite villain is carrying you like a princess, or if you should quake in fear at the likelihood of him taking you prisoner.

as you were occupied with doing mental gymnastics, he silently observed you, head cocked slightly to one side. he thought it was interesting that you didn't try to resist him or at least shout for help (both of which are futile), considering the dangerous situation you're in. any normal person would be scared especially when surrounded by piles of corpses.

you could tell that dion was weighing his options of either killing you since you're a witness, or keeping you in one of the agriche residence's prison cells until he has a use for you. desperate to live, you impulsively yanked his mask down and tugged his head towards you, causing his lips to smash against yours. his eyes widened.

"why did you do that?" he asked when you pulled away.

"because... i love you!" you exclaimed, giving him the sweetest smile you could muster. you learnt from another manhwa that the best way to survive an encounter with a dangerous person is to catch them off-guard with a love confession! you're not exactly lying about your love for dion anyway, and the consequences of this will be a future you problem.

"even though i could kill you right now?"

"i feel a certain excitement knowing that my life and death are in your hands."

"... interesting. it'd be a waste to have you dead," dion said with mirth. maybe you could solve his problem of needing a wife to continue the agriche bloodline in the future, as all of the women he's met/been introduced to so far are boring. he needed someone who could add a little fun and excitement to his mundane, humdrum life, and you seem to be the right person to do so. before you could say anything else, dion swiftly knocked you out.

... and that's how you found yourself chained to dion's bed with a collar around your neck. everyone, especially roxanne, was surprised to see him strutting inside the manor with your unconscious self slung over his shoulder earlier, and when he had claimed that you're the woman he wishes to marry, lante allowed him to keep you. as long as you have a pretty face and can give birth to children who'd make fine agriches, lante doesn't care who dion chooses as his bride.

dion took his father's permission too literally and keeps you in his room like a pet. still, he takes good care of you by feeding you well and letting you sleep on the same bed as him. it can be a little awkward sharing a bed with dion because he tends to hug you very tightly in his sleep, as if he doesn't want to give you any room for escape.

he doesn't let you roam around the manor alone because of jeremy; dion knows that he hates him, and would rather not have you run into any problems involving his moody half-brother. it'd be troublesome too if jeremy somehow takes a liking to you because dion is not fond of sharing what's supposed to be his in the first place.

dion is possessive of you, and his possessiveness increased tenfold after he was exposed to your gentle side. when he returned from an errand drenched in blood one day, you didn't hide how worried you were for him. even though the collar limited your distance from the bed, you kept trying to reach for him as he slumped on the floor. it didn't show on his face, but he was exhausted; he couldn't look at you properly and only heard you calling his name frantically...

when he finally came to, he found himself resting on your lap, your hand gently stroking his forehead. relief washed over you when you noticed that he's awake, and you cupped his cheeks.

"you're awake! don't collapse on me like that ever again, i almost got a heart attack-"

"... you were worried?" he asked.

with a huff, you replied, "of course! i don't want anything bad to happen to you, dion. b-besides, we're kinda dating each other."

dion grew up with a mother who didn't love nor care about him. he grew up with a father who only cared about what value he can bring to the black agriche. dion, who grew up emotionally repressed and touch starved wanted more after the first sign of genuine kindness from you. your saccharine words and honey-coated gesture at that moment were all it took for you to completely consume his mind.

as he leaned into one of your palms with his eyes closed, dion has decided. a sweet and gentle person like you is not suited for the harsh world outside, but as long as you stay by his side and continue showering him with your affection, he'll make sure that no harm will come to his little butterfly. if anyone tries to take you away from him, he won't stop at just cutting off the hand that dared to touch what's his; he'll torture them by giving them a slow, painful death.

he's never going to let you go. he'll make you stay in the agriche residence until the end of time, and if you're going to die, then die here in his arms.

JEREMY knew that he had to have you the moment he saw how aggressively cassis reacted to the sight of your unconscious self, bound and gagged beside him. by having you in his grasp, he has a means of provoking cassis and it also gives him a sense of control.

lante handed you over to jeremy when the latter expressed his interest in having you as his toy, and roxanne warned him to not do anything that will kill you if he doesn't want her toy to give her a hard time, seeing as cassis is attached to you for some reason. jeremy naturally listened to his sister, but he didn't expect to fall in love with you so quickly.

unlike the members of the black agriche, you're very sweet and your kindness isn't fake. the gentle attention you'd give him despite your unfavourable circumstances fed the touch starved jeremy, who only desires someone to love and care for him. he initially kept you so he'd have cassis on a leash, but now... he wants to keep you by his side to fill the void in his heart.

you were, of course, bewildered by his change in attitude at first. he would usually treat you as if you're less than dirt, so to suddenly be put on a pedestal by him felt a little strange. he still makes you wear the collar to prevent you from escaping, but he's kinder and tries to be gentle with you these days.

"hey (y/n), are you bored? i brought you some books that you might like!" jeremy exclaimed as he dumped a pile of books on the bed you're sitting on.

"oh, thank you..." you said, picking the romance novel at the top of the pile, "am i really allowed to read these books? what if you get in trouble by your father?"

"hmm... i won't," he began, plopping himself beside you on the bed, "because starting from today, you're my girlfriend."

just like that, you became the lover of jeremy agriche. lante had his reservations about a pedelian dating one of his children, but when you told him that you're merely a peasant rischel took pity on and decided to raise as one of his own (you had to lie about you being from a world where their lives are part of a novel), he changed his mind. since you're not officially affiliated with the blue pedelian, he can use you against the very family that took you under their wing and thus permitted you to be with jeremy.

jeremy was obviously overjoyed and immediately moved you to a lavish room. "that dingy prison cell doesn't suit an angel like you anyway!" he claimed. with roxanne's help, he was able to buy you an entire wardrobe of beautiful dresses and boxes of glimmering jewelries. him spoiling you overwhelmed you and made you suspect that he's after something, but when he eagerly ducked his head in front you, you realised that all he wants is a head pat for every single thing he does in an attempt to make you happy.

"i'm not asking for much. just love me, and i'll make sure you live comfortably here," he said, smiling happily when your hand gently caressed his head.

well, that's easy enough. jeremy is your favourite character in the manhwa, and since he's given you the green light, you'll take full advantage of it to shower him with affection. in return, he'll always be there to protect you and will even defend your mistakes.

when you kissed his cheek to thank him for catching you after you fell from a tree branch, he became addicted. he'd ask for sweet little kisses instead of head pats since then, as he finds them more fulfilling. a giddy feeling consumes him every time your lips brush against his cheek or forehead, and he soon begins to wonder what your lips would feel like on his...

"(y/n). have you ever kissed that blue son of a bitch before?" jeremy asked one day, making you choke on your own spit.

"no! of course not!" you replied, flustered by his question, "cassis is not someone i'd like to spend the rest of my life with."

he breathed a sigh of relief. "good. i'm the one you want to be with forever, right?" grinning, he leaned in and pressed his forehead against yours as you smiled.

as jeremy grew up, he became extremely possessive of you. he doesn't want you to show kindness to anyone but himself (roxanne is an exception), and if you expressed even the slightest interest in dion, he'll confront his half-brother and demand to know what he did to seduce you. depending on jeremy's mood, the confrontation will either end in blood or peace.

he gets jealous very easily and doesn't like it when other men lay their eyes on his sweet angel. he'll get angry if anyone so much dares to cast a dirty look your way because nobody disrespects you like that in his presence. you'll have to stop him by grabbing his arm and begging him to stay with you before he storms up to the unfortunate soul to give them a piece of his mind.

during the social event where the five families gather together, jeremy forbade you from attending any of the balls. instead, he made you stay with roxanne in her room to shield you from the prying eyes of other men and to also hide you from the blue pedelian. that didn't stop you from sneaking into the ballroom when roxanne wasn't looking though. you were not going to waste your only chance of getting a glimpse of the handsome male leads of "the flower of hell" after all!

however, you got caught hiding behind a potted plant by noel vertium, who was enamoured of you at first sight. jeremy spotted you just as noel was about to approach you, and he was able to reach you first. with a possessive grip around your waist, he pressed you against his chest and glared at noel, who soon got dragged away by his aide.

if you try to act cute with jeremy, he might just forgive you for disobeying him.

blinded by stardust.

premise. you aren't nearly paid enough for this.

word count. 971.

note. ridiculously self-indulgent. i just wanted to write some sexual tension between an assassin and their commissioned target, man.

“A great blade you have.”

Sharp, stretching to a curved edge. It gleams ominously in the moonlight, draped in cold silver. Gloved fingers wrap around the hilt, tracing the carved patterns, curiously smoothing over embedded diamonds. A twinkle of interest rests in his eyes, but the scimitar doesn’t hold his attention for long—his gaze shifts to your figure, pinned beneath his grip.

“Unfortunate you never got to use it.”

Contempt blemishes your otherwise fair face, twisting to a scornful expression directed solely at his irritable attitude. Ayato feels a flash of sadistic joy at that, but dissatisfaction rolls off him in waves at the way you worry your lip with your teeth.

“Not very keen on responding?” A thumb presses down on your mouth, brushing the swell of your lip. The snarky reply at the tip of your tongue dies the moment he applies more pressure to the blade ghosting over your neck, a firm weight that threatens to cut you open.

You try your best to suppress a shudder when it digs further to your skin, one stroke away from drawing blood. He revels in your panic, your pride crumbling to dust and burnt to ashes; glows in delight knowing you’re pliant at his mercy, rippling in every delicate touch.

(More than he should, probably.)

“You know, I was quite flattered,” Ayato begins, eyes darkening when you squirm in futile attempts to escape. “You kept approaching me, bright-eyed and eager just to exchange pleasantries. I was under the assumption you were interested.”

He sighs in solemn contemplation, dismayed by the turn of events. “Though it seems you were only after my neck. I'd say I have far more attractive qualities than that.”

His voice takes on a cheery lilt as he moves closer, the tips of his hair tickling your cheek. Stiffening, you turn away, but that only prompts him to tilt your face in his direction, the edge of the blade beneath your chin.

“No need to play coy with me,” he reassures, a kind smile gracing his features. “You were so bold to invite yourself to my room tonight, after all.”

You twitch.

“Pardon the intrusion, my lord,” your words come out firm, less shaky than you expected them to be, “but with the way your door was left wide open, I presumed visitors were welcome.”

“Mhm. I figured it would spare you the time to sneak inside,” Ayato answers, all too merry for someone who anticipated an assassination. “It did save you the trouble, didn’t it?”

You smother the urge to grimace and take on a wry simper, “Truthfully, it wasn’t much of help. I would’ve preferred if you remained obedient and slept the night away like you were supposed to.”

“Oh? I didn’t take you for the kind to go for defenseless men.”

“You don't have to worry about that.” Too smug for someone held at knifepoint, you drawl, “Scheming men aren’t my type.”

“That’s a shame then.” He has the gall to look disappointed. “You were mine.”

A chuckle bubbles out of your throat, unconvinced. “So you’re saying you treat people you like this way?”

“Do you have a problem with it?” Ayato cocks his head to the side questioningly.

“Even for someone like you, I thought you would be a little nicer.”

He laughs at that, breathy and quiet, the faint gust of air tickling your ear when he leans further down to stroke your cheek tenderly. “Thoma always did say I have a bad personality.”

His hand travels south, pressing on the column of your throat. “I want to be kind to the person I like,” he whispers softly, like a confession you aren’t supposed to hear. “But you’re so cute I want to bully you some more.”

Psychotic bastard, you think as the scimitar hovers above your skin. This is beyond bullying.

“You thought something rude about me just now, didn’t you?”

You avert your eyes. “I didn’t.”

He laughs again, dubious. “I’m not sure if you’re aware,” Ayato comments, tracing the line of your chin, “but you’re so awful at lying it's almost impressive.”

Before you can retort back, he cuts in, “It makes me want to believe you weren’t deceiving me the entire time.”

You dig your nails into the rumpled sheets, the mattress sinking with his weight. Swallowing, you measure the remaining distance placed between you and the sharp edge, pondering his reluctance to end this farce.

“Don’t you remember?” He hums, a chipper tone lacing his words. Like reminiscing a fond memory. “You gave me muffins before. You baked them yourself. You said you wanted what I thought of them.”

To your bewilderment, he sets aside the scimitar, gently laying it down the bed. It sits a safe distance away.

You can try to run. Your hands are free, and the only threat that kept you immobilized was the sword. Ayato would probably let you, even though you doubted the credibility of his self-proclaimed affections earlier.

You don’t.

You stay right where he wants you.

“We were alone. Nobody would’ve known you came by. I ate those muffins, knowing the risk.” His free hand settles on your waist, but you hardly notice when you’re too immersed in the intensity of his gaze. “But you didn’t poison them at all.”

He leans down. Closer.

“You should know best why it's advised to keep smaller weapons. You conceal them until the target is vulnerable. Yet you brought a scimitar.”

Closer.

“Like you were trying to get me to notice you.”

Until your nose brushes against his, your lips separated by a hair’s breadth.

“Even now, you don’t push me away. Like you want to be caught.”

His eyes burn like embers, a smoldering flame that sears your very being.

“Can you tell me why?”

You don’t know the answer either.