Loving Him Was Red ♡ Nct 127 Series

Who do you think? 

“ GENSHIN IMPACT !! ” 🏷️— SNEZHNAYA DOES NOT BELIEVE IN TEARS (CHILDE X READER).

＃CHARACTERS! — CHILDE.

＃CONTENT WARNING(S)! — ANGST.

＃MASTERLIST! — HERE.

＃ALT ACCOUNTS! — @yyolkchi (spam/sketch posting account!) & @ddollipop (mature fic account!)

＃A/N! — INSPIRED BY THE OFFICIAL RELEASE OF THE HARBINGER DESIGNS, SOMEONE CONVINCE ME NOT TO SIMP FOR PANTALONE, HELP ME.

Snezhnaya isn't always so bitter and cold.

Sure, the winter is unrelenting, the snow piles high, up and above the heads of small children who know of nothing else outside the nation's borders, —but there's warmth to be found in this icy place. Warmth comes and goes like the frosty winds that sweep across the land. It's fleeting, and painfully unreliable, but perhaps the worst part of it all is that you reach for it every single time it comes back around, no matter how long it's been without a single flickering flame off in the distance to let you know it hasn't been extinguished.

Childe comes and goes as he pleases. He's a Fatui Harbinger first, and your lover second. You know that to be the case, even when he denies it, even when he insists to you that he does what he does in order to build a better life, —for himself first, then his family and you, because you've "always been included in that from the day I fell in love with you." Family. It's nice to think about, but it's hard to imagine that Childe sees you so fondly when he hardly ever sees you at all these days. His visits have gotten shorter, only lasting a week at most, and they're now few and far between. His travels have gotten longer, and he comes back with more injuries than he ever has before.

But you can't seem to let him go, no matter what he does, no matter what he says, no matter how many times he disappears into the distance and leaves you hanging by a thread for days, weeks, months. . . You wait. You turn down the men that only swing by the confectionery shop you work at to flirt with you while they mindlessly order small boxes of chocolates or fudge. You go home to an empty bed, saving his side just in case he crawls in through the window again in the dead of night. You hold that shirt of his that he left at your apartment not-so-accidentally half a year ago to the lower half of your face, breathing in whatever's left of his scent after all this time. It's fading, just like he is. . . But you won't wash it, nor will you wash yourself clean of him. The ties between him and you have turned into iron chains. Sometimes, they curl around your neck and pull taut until you're sputtering, falling to your knees on the floor next to his side of the bed.

You weep. You worry. You drive yourself mad wondering if he's okay, if he's injured, if he's doing alright. And then he waltzes his way back in like he never left, —and you should be angry. You should probably hate him by now after all the sleepless nights and harrowing days he's put you through, but the moment he returns with that arrogant laugh and that cocky smile, you've already lost the fight. He opens his arms and you've slotted yourself between them before you have half the mind to stop yourself, letting him hold you even though he doesn't deserve to. The thick fur of his coat tickles your neck, then weighs heavily on your spine when he sheds it like an unneeded extra layer of skin and places it around your shoulders.

Now's the time when you should shove it off, look him dead in those ocean blue eyes and tell him that you're tired of this, —that it's all too much, and you deserve better. But when he's here, he's the best man you could ever ask for. He's doting, even when his body aches and it's hard for him to move around properly. He understands when you crack under the pressure, letting you cry on his shoulder as he rubs little circles into your skin by the fire. It crackles, and your heart sings for him. Childe is all you've ever wanted. For so many years, you've watched him grow and change, becoming the person he is today who is many things: some good, some bad. But the bitter truth remains that you are an affair, second to his job that he works for tirelessly. As long as he's a Harbinger, the only place you'll ever have is as a homewrecker.

Here you are though. . . Again.

"Easy," he requests, voice strained from the pulse of his aching ribs, "—I missed you too."

"It's been two months since I last saw you, Childe," you comment, sounding much more bitter than you'd intended. "No letters, no nothing, and I. . . I was scared something had happened. Something bad."

Guilt floods through his veins. He hadn't even realized it had been quite that long. His tireless work which often requires an intense amount of traveling is known to easily allow him to lose track of time. Still, he knows he should have sent someone to give you a message somewhere in between his camp setups. He should have done more to ensure that you weren't losing sleep over him.

"I'm sorry," he relents, voice thick with melancholy. "Time gets away from me on jobs. That's not an excuse, though. I need to be more mindful of your feelings, and I'll work on that."

You hate this. When he has time to spare for you, the last thing you want to do is spend it talking about all the ways he's made you worry or feel small unwittingly. In a way, you feel equally responsible for your own feelings. He never misrepresented himself to you after all. . . You knew what you were getting yourself into, and you jumped headfirst into the fire. Because Childe, above all things, is warm. 

"We can talk about it later," you mumble against the skin of his neck.

Later will likely never come, but you're keen on overlooking that. For now, at least. Until he leaves once more in a few days time, and you're forced to reconcile with loneliness again. And so the cycle will begin; he leaves, and you tell yourself this is the last time. When he comes back, you'll pull yourself free of his grasp: the one that's ice cold sometimes, but still manages to nip at your moth-eaten, frostbitten heart. But then the next time comes around, and you find yourself in his embrace again.

"People are starting to stare."

They're common folk from the looks of it, just regular citizens of Snezhnaya, same as you. Even so, it's impossible to know when someone may be working as an informant. Childe's head on a platter is worth at least a couple hundred million Mora. . .

"You're pretty," Childe notes, a playful smile pulling at the corners of his lips, "they can't help themselves."

That's far removed from the reality of the situation, but his comment still makes you giggle. The truth is that Childe is somewhat of a Snezhnayan celebrity; much as all the Harbingers are. They rule with an iron fist over a great deal of politics, trade, travel, economic systems, and social functionality. The Harbingers are well respected, but also immeasurably feared. That is the real reason all the people have begun to throw glances your way. You're with Childe.

"Hardly," you brush the comment off, stifling a giggle.

"Hardly?" Childe parrots, "—Don't be so modest. You're the most beautiful person in Snezhnaya. In all of Teyvat, even. And trust me, I've probably seen every inch of this world. Parts of other worlds too, and none of it compares to you."

He means it. Not just outerly, though he does think your physical beauty is utterly unmatched, —but internally. When he's down and wondering if he should even bother to pull himself back up, he thinks of you, and you give him the strength he needs to move forward. He thinks of your smile, the way your eyes reflect starlight, the way your bleeding heart welcomes him and gives him shelter. When he sleeps beside you, he likes to imagine that he's sunken into your being, and that you've sunken into him. He sleeps behind your ribcage, right next to your beating heart, and you sleep next to his.

"You're laying it on thick tonight," you comment.

His compliments pile up like the snow at your feet, and you know what that means.

"You're not staying for long, are you?"

The glimmer in his eyes dies out a little as his face falls, and you wish you hadn't said anything. It's too late now though.

". . . Things haven't been easy since Rosalyne's death," he says. "Her work has been mitigated to the rest of us, and I've been given the tasks that require the most travel, since I'm the one who leaves Snezhnaya the most."

He's avoiding the question, and you sigh; warm breath hitting the cold air in a little cloud of vapor.

"You'll be gone by morning then?" You ask.

Childe opens his mouth to speak, but you already know the answer, so he purses his lips together a few seconds later. There's no point in rubbing salt in the wound.

"Let's go," you prompt, pulling him by the hand. "It's freezing, and you don't have a coat anymore."

"I don't really need one," he assures you, "I was born and raised here in Snezhnaya, after all. I'm more than used to the weather."

You just want to get inside. Both because your fingers have started to go numb, and because you know Childe has injuries that you're keen on looking after before the sun rises and daybreak comes. By then, he'll be gone again, and you'll be left to wait for him once more.

The way snow crunches under his feet is an almost comforting sound. It's been a while since you've heard it. There's a certain something to every little thing he does, —as if the world all but bends for his will and the universe seeks to bow at his feet. He's the only man alive you'd wait this long for.

He squeezes your hand as if to say "I'm sorry."

And you squeeze his in return to let him know that it's okay, —everything is fine— even though it isn't. It never really has been. But when this coat is draped over your shoulders, his fingers have laced with yours, and he's pulling you close to keep you warm, it's easy to convince yourself that maybe one day everything won't be so bad. He'll find a way to make things better for everyone: himself, his family, you. . . He'll find a way to ease the sting that comes when you wake up in the morning and he's not there.

He'll hold you to sleep, then pull away at the first sign of sunrise. Just like the icy winds of Snezhnaya, he'll come and go with the breeze.

They're bitter. They hurt. But they dry your tears when they swoop in from the north, and sometimes, they carry Childe's heartbeat along with them.

The thick blanket of snow along the ground glitters in the humble moonlight. Childe's hand is placed at the small of your back, matching the curve. And somehow, it's comforting in ways any apology he could ever give never would be. Once again, you're being swept away; washed out into his sea. You're drowning in him.

"I love you," he whispers, for your ears only.

Like it's just between the two of you, —some deep, dark secret, or something precious he hopes you'll only ever need to hear from him.

You'll think about that secret, that precious whisper, come morning when Childe sneaks away at the first sign of daylight. Maybe if you're lucky, you'll catch a glimpse of his footprints before the new snowfall rains down from the heavens and buries them, erasing all traces that he was ever even here in the first place.

"I love you too," you answer honestly.

It's all you have the will to say

But sometimes, I wish I didn't.

i don’t see any difference

fights with him. includes xiao, albedo, kazuha. gn!reader. modern au!. warnings: arguments, err mild angst?. wc: 1,927. semi proof-read.

xiao — [✧]

fights with xiao are uncommon, not rare. contrary to belief, xiao is not the vocal type about his feelings, whether it be of distaste or love.

fighting with xiao is like standing on a tight rope hundreds of meters from the ocean and waiting to fall into the bottomless pits of water just to drown. he is careful around you but you are careful around him.

xiao has never been communicative, choosing to stay silent and never being confrontational. one would say he avoids conflict, choosing to stay in the dark and letting the issue resolve itself—afterwards, he would come out of his shell and act as if it never happened.

and you wonder, has xiao always been this way? or did you make him this way?

"what was that?" are the first words you say after he had pushed you away when he came home, telling you that he was tired and wanted to rest.

you would have let him, really, you knew how stress would wrap itself around xiao's neck. but he has been this way for a week and you're growing tired of trying to cheer him up.

"it's nothing, i'm sorry," he says, a tinge of annoyance evident in his voice as he stands before you. he feels apologetic when he sees the way hurt flashes in your eyes—knows that it will always be because of him and his actions.

"xiao, you've been avoiding me all week, what's wrong?" you question him, hands already reaching up to cup his cheeks. he deflects your actions, stepping backwards as he looks at you with a slight scowl.

"do you always have to be this way?" he snides, crossing his arms as he watches the way your brows knit in hurt, in confusion. "i've just been busy, i'm sorry if i forgot, happy?"

pursing your lips, the only thing you could do is to look directly into xiao. as you stand across from him, thinking if you should leave him be or stand your ground, you don't miss the way annoyance fuels in his eyes.

stand your ground and you wouldn't be able to sleep tonight. leave and you would do the same. fighting with xiao has always been painful because you never know what to do, never know if you should chase after him or continue to leave him alone.

"it was still a date, xiao!" you protest, taking a step forward to show that even in the most heated moments between you two, you still care. and you will always care.

"i know," he sighs, "i know and it's my fault, alright? i'm just busy with everything." and it was true, dozens of papers laid strewn on his study table, waiting to be finished; however, it was also true that he had forgotten.

"i can't turn back time, you know that," xiao seethes. he wonders what you want him to do—he was supposed to make it up to you after a week, promising that he'd finish everything before you. "just let it go, please."

you wonder if you really did matter to him anymore. "fine, then let me go too," you're gathering the rest of your things on the counter, not daring to look back at whatever expression was on xiao's face—because you knew, if you saw how nonchalant he looked, you'd be heartbroken all over.

and he's holding your wrist, tugging you towards him; you avoid his gaze, missing the way his eyes flicker from your face to the door. xiao wouldn't allow himself to let you walk out the door without his apology.

"you can leave... if you want," he mutters, "i'm sorry. i know, i was in the wrong. i didn't mean for it to come out like that."

"do you even still care? about me? about us?" it's all you can ask, hoping that he says no. hoping that he says no so you can leave with no regrets because god if he says yes then you will leave with a heavy heart.

xiao tightens his grip on your wrist, nodding as fast as he can, swallowing the lump in his throat as he answers, "of course i do."

even when he says yes, you still tug your wrist from his grasp, gazing at him for a moment—and xiao swears his heart breaks—before you back away from him to leave.

albedo —[✧]

fights with him are rare. the percentage of an argument with him is around 4.5%, but still, a little number always has a chance. rare yet not impossible.

and should you ever fight with him, albedo is quiet and composed. the high and mighty albedo shows not a speck of emotion on his face as he works through his table, gathering whatever is left of the experiment he was working on—at least what he could save from it.

albedo has always been poised, he is self-assured and organised, never making a mistake—sometimes he wonders if he was wrong about you. he is poised and you have always hated it about him.

the nonchalant look on his face makes your insides turmoil; will it always be like this? albedo rarely gets furious, instead understands the situation and tries to make do of what he can. at least what he does with his experiments.

“if you’re just going to stand there and do nothing, i suggest you take your leave,” albedo murmurs from his spot, fingers picking up pieces of glass, gingerly setting them on a tray.

cold—his voice is cold. albedo does not spare you a glance at all, instead, he brushes over his table and inspects every inch as if it was hurt. were you not hurt as well? the redness on your fingers was evident, and tips were scratched from the failed experiment; however, past that, your chest tightens as you try to speak.

for once, you wonder, did it matter to him more that his experiment had failed? not that you had gotten hurt in the process of ‘helping’ him?

“and you’re just going to ignore me?” you jab at him. you’re trying to look through his words, the only sixteen words he had spoken after the failure of an experiment, trying to find a sign that he wants you to say. something, anything.

you don’t find one hint at all, and you think twice if you should do as he says. fights with albedo are rare and you know it will pass just like each one has—did it all just pass? no, will he let this one pass

since you have done so many mistakes that he cannot overlook anymore, will this be the time he abandons you once and for all? 

“i should have thought before i let you join me in any of my research,” albedo spits out. “had i known you would have been nothing but a burden i wouldn’t have let you join me with your idiocy.”

 and so, everything that you had built up between you two crashes. he didn’t care like you thought—not when he’s staring at you like you’re the biggest irritant in the world that he has to face the moment he wakes up in the morning,

but it also sinks inside albedo that his words were uncalled for.

“sorry,” albedo repeats, again and again, his body already moving towards you and hands reaching out to touch you. like a broken record, each sorry is faster than the last; hoping that it would make the tears that wanted release to stay in your eyes.

because god, albedo hates it when you cry, hates it more when it’s because of him. instead, you push him away, looking at him with the most hurt of eyes that he’s ever seen in his life. albedo has chosen his stand and it will not change your decision.

“i’m sorry,” he whispers.

for once, albedo prays to the gods, watching as you leave him all alone in his study—just like he has always been. alone and in the dark all over again.

kazuha — [✧]

some would say fights with kazuha are impossible. he is polite and well-spoken, always knowing what words to say to comfort someone in need, and always a firm believer that conflict can be resolved with communication.

you, for one, believed otherwise. communication was not something you dealt with, in fact, you hated having to deal with confrontation more than anything. kazuha was the one who initiated peace at most times, sometimes you when you know you are in the wrong.

as someone who holds his relationships in very high regard, kazuha is gentle with you and his words whenever you argue. as someone he is fond of, kazuha holds you dear to his heart.

so imagine his surprise when you two get home from a small gathering, a frown on your face as you set down most of your things and tell him you don't like one of his friends.

"i don't like the way he talks to you," is what you tell him, and kazuha stares at you, pondering on what to say.

"i admit he's rather blunt," he discloses. never knowing your reasons was difficult and kazuha feels that he may have to pry it out of you.

"no, he's out of the line. i don't like him," you snap, "he was being pissy the whole night—and don't you notice the way he talks to you?"

while kazuha holds you in high regard, he does the same with his friends. while he cannot understand where you are coming from, kazuha believes you may have seen his friend from a different perspective.

"he talks like that with everyone," he answers, this time with a tinge of annoyance. you've met that certain friend three times, and kazuha has known him for two years, it's impossible for you to see right through him immediately.

you turn to look up at him, glaring slightly, "kazuha, you know, sometimes you're being too nice that you can't even see that people are using you! i'm just telling you the truth about him!"

"and i told you he's not like you think he is!" he raises his voice slightly. he watches as you turn away from him, crossing your arms as you click your tongue in annoyance.

"god, kazuha, can't you see that some people are just not as nice as you?" you scoff, "i understand that you're-"

"you don't understand," he speaks up. "you never did and you still don't. they're my friends and you're telling me he speaks to me out of line? i would know, i'm his friend!"

"and i'm telling you that he was being a dick to you and you can't notice it!" you snap, tears springing to your eyes as you feel your chest tighten.

fighting with kazuha was always something you hated because for once, you don't know how to answer him. and as you stand before him, trying to make sense of what you felt, nothing right wants to come out.

"because you're being crazy about it!" kazuha retorts, crossing his arms before he lets out a sigh. "let's...let's talk it over, i don't want to argue with you over this."

as you hold back your tears, kazuha reaches out to wrap you in his arms, hand on the back of your head.

kazuha supposes that maybe this time, he should listen to you. he just hopes that you forgive him—because you're pushing him away in tears.

NOTES ok so i said i wanted more fluff on my blog buttttt yayy i didn't think this one was too angsty so :p this one was rotting in my drafts, i decided to post this just before i update tomorrow hehe

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Scooby doo's theme song but it's Ateez

thinking about scaramouche team dynamics ft scarabedo

Genshin Volleyball Dream Team [Volleyball Team AU - Inspired by Haikyuu!] Introduction Headcanons

Notes: Guess who started watching Haikyuu! FML As if I didn’t have enough things to do I decided to fall in love with like 5 different volleyball teams with an average of 10 players. 

I couldn’t get it out of my head. I’m sorry.

Scenario: What if the Genshin boys were a volleyball team?

In the next part: How would it be working as their manager? What if someone hits on you? What if some girl fans bully you? Also, how would it be to date a Genshin volleyball superstar?

Other works in the Volleyball Team AU Series: Click Here

If you’re not familiar with volleyball (or Haikyuu) here’s a link explaining what each position in the team does.

Keep reading

call it what you want.

a genshin impact smau | xiao x gn!reader

SUMMARY as part of the student council, you’ve been tasked to recruit the local band playing in your university’s bar. xiao, who’s the band’s bassist, seems to be the only one refusing your offer to join the foundation day. you have two weeks to make him agree to perform on stage in front of the whole university or you’re off the council for good.

GENRE modern, fluff, slight(?) crack, mild angst if u squint

STATUS completed as of october 11, 2022

NOTES time stamps do not matter unless i say so !! i hope u all enjoy <3

EPISODE LIST

your dropees | xiao’s band

001 — beloved vp ♢002 — failed night out

003 — bench front ♢ 004 — deleted tweet

005 — hashtag boy ♢ 006 — fuckin’ with ‘ya

007 — know yakshas? ♢ 008 — this is betrayal

009 — go ahead without me ♢ 010 — why not?

011 — follow back, vp ♢ 012 — annoying pest

013 — ah, that’s why ♢ 014 — he likes who?

015 — never mind ♢ 016 — actually, i hate you

017 — you like them, right? ♢ 018 — my treat!

019 —so a game? ♢020 — he agreed?

021 — not my boyfriend ♢ 022 — for you

023 — don’t ask me to ♢ 024 — breakfast

025 — tokyo ♢ 026 — suddenly gone

027 — don’t reply please ♢ 028 — get rid of it

029 — time to cry ♢ 030 — the last song

031 — just ignore him ♢ 032 — i wonder why

033 — hate me ♢ 034 — just a hunch

035 — hung up ♢ 036 — the person i like

037 — touchdown ♢ 038 — bad feeling

039 — unknown id ♢ 040 — all yours

041 — better ♢ 042 — sheesh

043 — miss me ♢ 044 — come back

045 — at last ♢ bonus — tba

MISCELLANEOUS thank you so much to all of you who supported me throughout this series !! i love u all ueueue

“Someone who won’t run away” and now homeboy is running away from him , himself 😭

Credits to luty_nii on instagram

His reaction to being called gēgē by a child.

Kazuha, Thoma, Gorou ver.

Itto, Scaramouche ver.

Requested by @lunavixia​.

A/N: It feels a little out of place for a tsukumogami to be picked up by an adeptus, so the reader is an actual human child in Xiao’s version.

Xiao | Female reader | Scenario

“(Y/n), please don’t run! You might trip and hurt yourself!” Chongyun cried as he reached out for the young girl’s figure bolting away in the distance. Once she had disappeared beyond the gate beside Wangshu Inn, the exorcist fell on all fours in despair as scenarios of his possible doom by a certain yaksha’s hands flashed through his mind. “Adeptus Xiao will no doubt have my head if he finds even the tiniest scratch on her-!”

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