- See You In My 100th Life.

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

STATUS ongoing - sporadic updates - taglist open!

NOTES welcome back to another smau by naev and her sporadic updates t__t double updates since 004 or i try to be hehe >__< send in an ask to be tagged instead of replying !!

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 — tba ♢ 024 — tba

MISCELLANEOUS time stamps do not matter unless i say so !! this will go through heavy editing in the process ^__^ not so sure if xiao is a bit ooc here but annoying xiao agenda pls >>> feedback greatly appreciated <3 chapter names may be changed depending on what happens

(should be no direct spoilers? interlude chapter act 2)

i think our hole friends should keep being friends when our lives are not in danger or else i will keep crying about it forever

haitani rkgk

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, ???

光華容彩祭

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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Jean and the smolnemos🍃

Congrats, master Jean, for being tall.

,,,btw heizou's like an unexpected pleasant breeze and i truly hope he's a jolly little brat

does this look like an 800 number to you? - k.hj

spirit!kim hongjoong x gender neutral!reader

tw - implied suicide (do not read if such topics will trigger you), mild description of wounds, very brief fluff in the beginning, angst

word count: 3k

a/n: i know this is a half hour late for halloween i'm sorry don't @ me about it

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

The voice was so sudden and loud that it made you tip over as you scrambled to get away from the ouija board in the middle of your living room floor. Your head hit the floor hard and you winced, the pain making tears sting your eyes.

“Ow,” you whined, squeezing your eyes shut. You made no attempt to get up and no more words came from anywhere near the ouija board. You must’ve imagined it. You let out a soft sigh. In your desperation for company you’d imagined that the cheap board you’d gotten from a thrift store had actually summoned some sort of presence in your crappy, dank apartment. Now the tears welling in your eyes were less from the pounding ache in your head and more from how pathetic the whole situation was. Who the fuck uses a ouija board to find company anyway?

“Hello? Did you knock yourself out? I asked you a question.”

You huffed softly. Why was the voice still there? You sat up, pressing a hand to the back of your head to try and quell the pain while you sniffed away your tears. There was no point in crying now. You should probably just order take out and get some sleep. Your vision cleared and you went to get up, only to find a man sitting cross-legged across from you. Oh.

“So?” he asked, clearly irritated. “Can you explain why I’m here?”

His mouth was pulled into a frown but otherwise he looked pretty normal. Like any other person you’d see on the street or at the grocery store. Surely this isn’t what ouija boards were supposed to dredge up, right? But he was here and clearly waiting for an answer anyway and you figured you might as well give him one.

“I wanted company,” you blurted out. You cringed at the overly honest answer. Judging by the look on the man’s face he had definitely expected a better excuse.

“Does this look like an 800 number to you?” he asked, gesturing vaguely at the ouija board.

“No,” you said, feeling shame crawl up your chest. It was just your luck that you’d summon a dickhead spirit. The tears came springing back and you could feel your cheeks start to burn from holding them back. Spending Halloween night alone with nothing to do and nowhere to go was bad enough but now you were being scolded for wanting something better to do, which was definitely worse.

“Hey, did you hit your head hard? Why are you crying?” the man asked, his voice suddenly much softer than it had been just a minute ago. You shook your head, hiding your face behind your hands.

“No, I’m fine,” you mumbled. “You can leave, it’s whatever.”

“I’m already here now,” he replied, now only slightly annoyed. You heard shuffling and suddenly there was a cold hand on the back of your head. You uncovered your face and found that the man was kneeling in front of you, his frown less intense and his eyes fixed on yours. “Did you hit your head hard?”

“Yeah,” you said, voice still unsteady. He grunted, letting go of your head and taking a hold of your face instead, wiping away your tears roughly and with little care.

“Well you kind of deserved it. Being dragged here like this is annoying. Ouija boards don’t bring us here by choice,” he said, letting go of your face. Now that he’d reprimanded you a little more his frown disappeared entirely, a neutral expression taking its place. “You’ve got your company now. Do you have any food?”

You blinked, your brows furrowing as you tried to understand what he was saying. Was this really how ouija boards worked? What kind of spirits turned up to scold you and then ask for food?

“I was going to order take out,” you told him, at the sound of which he pulled a face.

“Let’s cook something,” he said firmly before standing up. He took a moment to dust himself off, looking around your small living room to inspect your belongings. When he turned his head you noticed a wound in his head. It was bloody and the flesh around it was mangled, although you couldn’t see much of the damage thanks to the dark dry blood. It sat almost at the back of his head but slightly to the side of it, and now that you knew where it was you noticed it when he was facing you directly again. He turned the other way, eyes dragging over the shelves by your TV, making another wound visible. This one was significantly smaller and significantly cleaner as well. You chewed on your bottom lip, suddenly very aware of the nature of the man standing in front of you. “You must’ve hit your head pretty hard. Come on, let’s cook.”

He turned his head a little and you found that he’d been looking at you the whole time. Or more so watching you look at the wound in his head. For the second time since he’d shown up you felt your face burn with embarrassment.

“Yeah, sorry,” you mumbled, standing up and walking the few steps it took to get to your kitchen.

The man wasn’t particularly helpful but you supposed you couldn’t expect much after summoning him from wherever he had come from. He boiled noodles and ate crisps while you fried and cooked the few vegetables you’d found in your fridge, the silence between the two of you a little awkward but not tense. You were still frying the vegetables when he sidled up to you, his shoulder almost pressing into yours.

“Can we put on some music?” he asked, smiling when you nodded. You handed him your phone and he navigated YouTube with ease, making you wonder when exactly he’d passed away. His clothes were a little weird (who the hell wears pants that are half plaid and half denim?) but only in the way that fashion is weird. They didn’t look outdated at all. Before you could ask about them, the kitchen filled with the sound of music playing from your phone. You glanced over at the screen and saw a logo but not much else. He seemed pleased, lifting himself to sit on the counter while you poured sauce over the vegetables.

“ATEEZ?” you asked, squinting slightly to see the logo better. The man hummed in response. “I’ve never heard of them.”

“They’re gonna make it big soon,” he said, nodding solemnly. “They might have a Spotify page up, you should check it out.”

He had a different expression on his face now. In fact it’d be more appropriate to say that there was no expression on his face at all, what with the way his eyes were unfocused and his lips were pressed into a thin line. You looked at the wound in his head again. You could see into his head now that you were closer to it - could see the crater where his brain and skull and scalp should’ve been. Your stomach twisted at the sight and you concentrated on the pan in front of you.

“Can you drain the noodles and split them into two bowls?” you asked quietly, not wanting to disturb the peace he’d found now that he was listening to music. He hopped down from the counter and did as you asked, letting you spoon the vegetables and sauce over both portions of noodles. He grinned at you once you were done.

“This looks way better than take out,” he said, picking up both bowls and carrying them to the living room. You followed after him, picking up your phone and scrolling through the recommended videos. A few videos down a thumbnail popped up of a few guys sitting in what looked like a basement with a shoddy recording studio set up around them. They were grinning at each other - wide, childish grins that you recognised from old photos you had with your own friends. The kind of smile you can’t hold back regardless of how hard you tried. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d smiled like that. It took a few seconds for you to realise that the boy sitting in the middle was the same man now sitting in your living room. You checked the title of the video. ‘ATEEZ - Treasure’. You’d listen to it later, you decided.

You found the man sitting on the floor in front of your coffee table, shovelling noodles into his mouth and clicking through TV channels. His eyes widened almost comically when he saw you, his ears turning pink.

“Sorry,” he said through his mouthful of food. He chewed and swallowed before speaking again. “Sorry I started without you. Nobody’s cooked for me since-”

He stopped talking, his mouth still halfway open with no sound coming out. There was a long moment in which he looked like he might just evaporate in front of you - whether it would be out of embarrassment or sorrow you couldn’t tell. But then he blinked a few times and shut his mouth, turning his attention back to the TV.

“There should be horror movies on, right? Isn’t it Halloween?” he asked, handing you the remote control.

“Yeah, you just didn’t find the movie channels,” you explained, clicking through the channels until you found one playing a movie. “Have you seen Nightmare on Elm Street?”

“Of course I have. Johnny Depp’s really hot in it,” he said.

“Lucky for you,” you said, snorting softly at his comment. He grinned when he looked up to see that Nightmare on Elm Street was playing on the TV, looking over at you and laughing softly.

“Score,” he murmured.

The two of you ate quietly after that, occasionally commenting on the actors in the movie or the special effects. When the movie came to an end you left him with the task of finding another movie to watch while you washed the dishes, the small apartment filled with the white noise of the TV playing and the man’s quiet humming. When you came back to the living room he’d made himself at home in a corner of the sofa, eyes concentrated on a movie you didn’t recognise.

“Thanks for doing the dishes,” he mumbled, pulling his knees up to his chest and picking at a loose thread on his jeans.

“You’re the guest, you don’t have to thank me,” you said, smiling a little. You didn’t want to say it out loud but you were more than happy to wash his dishes and watch the horror movies he was picking out. You hadn’t had a friend over like this in so long - not a friend or acquaintance or anybody - and you'd started to think you weren't going to have anyone over ever again. Sure, he’d been irritable at first but now that he’d settled down he was a pleasant presence. You sat down on the sofa with a soft sigh. “If you want anything just let me know.”

“I want one thing,” he said not a second after you’d spoken, looking over at you with a more serious expression than you’d seen on him since he’d turned up.

“Sure, what is it?” you prompted, his stare making you uncomfortable. You felt stripped bare by the way his eyes narrowed for a split-second, his hands completely still as he looked at you.

“Why did you use that board?” he asked. “Not in the way that I asked you earlier, like ‘what the fuck are you doing’. It’s not like you have any friends here for it to be fun. You didn’t even light candles or any of that spooky stuff. So what was the point?”

You paused, opening and closing your mouth until you realised you must look like a goldfish and you shut your mouth, looking away from him. It wasn’t a very personal question but it certainly felt like one. Maybe it was the sincere tone in his voice or the fact that he was still staring but you felt like you’d been shoved under a spotlight.

“I told you, I wanted company,” you said finally. It wasn’t entirely a lie after all.

“Okay. But you know that you’re alive, right? You can go out to clubs or to friends’ houses or invite people over - other living people,” he said. His tone wasn’t accusatory but you felt a little childish now that he’d put it like that. “You don’t have to call on the dead.”

You nodded, feeling a lump form in your throat as you tried to figure out how to answer him.

“I just didn’t have anyone. To go out with or visit or invite over,” you explained, your voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t have anyone.”

He didn’t say anything for what felt like far too long and you turned around, scared that he might’ve disappeared, but he was still in his corner of the sofa, still staring steadily with his hands placed on his knees and his lips parted as though he was trying to come up with something to say.

“You don’t have to answer, let’s just watch the movie,” you mumbled sheepishly, angling your body away from him so that you wouldn’t have to feel his eyes on you anymore. Once again he didn’t reply. Instead, you felt his hand close around your wrist. His skin was so cold it made you jump, your head whipping around to find him sitting much closer to you than he had been just seconds ago.

“No,” he said. “You’re not alone.”

“What?” you asked, drawing your wrist out of his grip. He let you do so and leaned away from you slightly, his lips forming a frown.

“The last time someone cooked for me was a week before I- a week before I died,” he said, eyes never leaving yours. He visibly swallowed, his Adam’s apple shifting up and down. You wondered if he had the same lump in his throat that you did. “It was my best friend. We were watching movies in my apartment - us and all of our other friends. He cooked for us. We helped him but he always took care of us, so he did most of the cooking.”

You wanted to understand what he was trying to say. From the way he was struggling to keep a straight expression it was clear that he’d made a connection you hadn’t noticed yet and you waited for him to explain.

“And they stayed over for most of the night but when they left I should have-”

He paused and you noticed how his hands were no longer still but shaking. You took them into yours and gave them a soft squeeze. He inhaled sharply, finally breaking the eye contact he’d been holding for so long.

“I felt alone, like you do. I knew I could go out or go back to his place or just ask them to come back but I didn’t,” he said. He looked back up at you, his lashes wet and his bottom lip shaking. “I didn’t mean to- I should have called someone.”

“Hey,” you whispered, reaching forward to pull him into you. He hugged you tightly, clinging to you as though his existence depended on it. His tears soaked through your shirt and your own vision blurred at the feeling, your heart sinking in your chest. “Don’t cry.”

“Hypocrite,” he mumbled between sniffles without any real bite. His hand moved up and down against your back slowly, soothing both you and himself until neither of you were crying anymore. “I made it so I can never see them again. We were gonna make it big together. My friends are really- they’re so talented and I wanted to be there with them when they-”

You shushed him, not wanting him to work himself up again. He shook his head and hugged you tighter.

“You’re not like me. You can still call someone,” he said, his shoulders shaking as he suddenly pulled back to look at you, his hands gripping your shoulders tightly. “If you don’t have anyone I’ll give you his number. My best friend. He'll answer. I know he will.”

There was so much desperation in his voice that it only made more tears roll down your cheeks. He let go of one of your shoulders and wiped your cheeks with his thumb. He was a dozen times more careful than he had been when wiping your face earlier and it made your heart ache.

“I’m a stranger, he won’t answer,” you whispered. The man in front of you shook his head.

“He knows that people need somebody sometimes,” he said gently. “He’ll take care of you the way he took care of me, okay?”

You could tell that wasn’t really the sentence he wanted to say but you didn’t need to hear him say it to know what he meant.

He’ll take care of you the way he can’t take care of me anymore.

“I know I said that ouija boards aren’t supposed to be 800 numbers but you use that board whenever you need company, okay?” he said. His voice had returned somewhat to the harsh tone he’d had when he first turned up in your living room, finding a balance between caring and rude that was reminiscent of how close friends talk to each other. You smiled through the tears in your eyes and nodded. He nodded in return and settled against the sofa to watch TV, gesturing for you to lean into him. “There’s still some of the movie left.”

The next morning the man was nowhere to be found. The only proof that he hadn’t been a figment of your imagination was the extra bowl drying on the dish rack and the notification on your lock screen from a new contact named Seonghwa in response to a message that you remembered the man typing out into your phone. He was inviting you out to dinner with his friends.

The final piece of evidence was that you were now following ATEEZ on Spotify. Their top song started with an audio clip of the man you’d met last night, giggling and talking to the rest of his friends in what sounded like the happiest voice you’d ever heard. He was talking about the next album he wanted to write. His voice was nowhere to be found in the rest of the song.

It hurt to hear.

☆⌒

taglist: @lovely-ateez @sunsethw4 @seonghwanotes @xirenex @choiberry @peanutpmingib @sannierio @ateezinmymind

ka(eya)bedon

(the third time)

⋅⋅⋅ w/ kaeya

The goal is simple: attain a title among the Knights of Favonious. Like all leaders, do your responsiblities, be honest, and always place Mondstadt’s safety first. So it perplexes you how Captain Kaeya attained the status as Calvary Captain. He’s only good at neglecting official duties, lying, pinning you against the wall—wait what?

or 3 times kaeya kabedon-ed you. the first in jest, the second to apologise, and third for keeping your focus only on him.

⋅⋅⋅ 3.2k words

⋅⋅⋅ more info

⠀

⠀

you hold your breath.

there no sound coming from the captain’s office, so everything should be fine, right?

you twist the door handle, slowly widening your entrance into his private territory.

(or as private as an office can be. despite stumbling on his notes about dragonspine, he didn’t leave a single trace of his plans to make use of you.)

there’s a slight lump in your throat when his chair comes to view and it’s empty.

it grows when this scene sparks the memory of the night you worked together with him—the moment everything spiralled.

still, you steel yourself, taking a step into the room because duties were duties at the end of the day.

ambitions, goals, and will. no emotions can stand in its way.

yesterday, you were promoted. a bit more and you might become the first knight in history to have a leadership position in such a short period.

as you settle down on the table, a little yellow note slips from one of the documents.

congratulations.

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