#venti x immortal reader

[amarisrosalette]

His Body (Yandere!Venti x Yandere!Artist!Immortal!Reader)

author's note: contains angst and dark content, hurt/comfort, yandere themes, manipulation, venti being a nasty boi, unhealthy relationships, obsession, mentions of stalking, tyranny, war, abuse, and disaster, mentions of body worshipping kink, reader is immortal, reader and venti are obsessed with each other and are delusional, slightly suggestive (especially at the end), proceed at your own risk!

synopsis: you are an immortal artist who has been with venti for the longest time. venti and you have been obsessing with each other for over a millenia as he finds out about your adoration for his body... and your lingering guilt issues for knowing the true story behind his form. but he's here to reassure you that you don't need to feel guilty, he is as obsessed with you as you are with him.

you are just so in love with venti's body. you are so in love with the kind of grace and elegance he has, with every curve of his limbs and lean posture effortlessly making you want to crumble to your knees because of how pretty he is. he's just so beautiful it hurts. it makes you ache. you don't know why; was it from jealousy? pure and utter admiration for him? you don't know. and sometimes, it's frustrating. from the way his hands smoothly hover his lyre before he strums it with his slim and calloused fingers, to the plumpness of his thighs and limbs, to the way his skin looks so soft and dewy you think of it as a better pillow than yours to the point that you'd much rather dig in the oppurtunity to get a closer taste to his wine-covered scent... through his skin. it's becoming addicting. to the way he forcefully digs his heels unto the ground when giving all his force in combat, you can feel the force he exerts in his body to the point you can see a glimpse of his slighty muscled body from his profound skills in archery. although you'd rather chew on your right leg that admit it, you want to see him in action. in battle. in his raw fierceness and emotion. you wonder just how graceful his moves would be. his face is quite youthful too, and his eyes.

oh, his eyes.

how you feel so jealous but so enamored of him, you start to absentmindedly doodle him on the sketchbook on your lap when his body is completely still. it wouldn't hurt if you just stole a teeny-tiny gaze to look at him while his eyes reflect a serene expression, his brows relaxed as he hums a tune. he is leaning against a tree as he is gently weaving a crown made of cecilias before he finishes before his near-triumphant tone of his voice makes you smile like an idiot. you were among the forests in mondstadt during a quiet day of hanging out with him.

"all done! my love, come look what i've made for you," you snapped out from your trance as you look down at what he has made for you.

oh, and it's beautiful. a piece of art from his skillful hands, you wanted to say. you are so trapped in admiring what he has made for you that you practically forgot the essence of reality for seconds that feel like hours.

and before you knew it, venti balanced himself on his knees as he hovers on top of your head to gently fit the crown in your head.

"oh, it fits perfectly on you, windblume!" he gestures to the nearby stream before he urges you, "take a look at yourself."

it's a calm body of water, and it's clear enough for you to get a perfect look at yourself. you lean forward as you see yourself bathing in wonders of your own reflection.

you are speechless as you turn around and finally muster what you wanted to say to him for the longest amount of time, but they are the words that cannot fully express what you wanted to tell him. you wanted to praise him for his skillful hands, his work of art, everytime he sings you love-laden songs of poetry, everytime he plays his lyre with melodies that make you swoon. you want to praise him for everything. you want to adore him to the ends of the earth, until your own pen and hand is sore and tired and breaking from how much you drew the every part of his body that you deemed was beautiful of him, until you couldn't physically do it anymore, which you never could be. for you loved him more than you loved yourself. you loved him more than you loved your own skill in art, you loved him so much that he was able to command every piece of your drawings and sketches to revolve around him and him only. forget about the other subjects you could draw, he took the mantle of being your only subject, your inspiration, your muse. you could paint an enormous canvas of every detail of his face and body that you would never forget nor stop loving about him, you could find a way to immortalize him through your unspoken skill that expressed your love for him that no other skill could have ever done.

you turn your head back to him as you stroll to him. you kneel beside him and softly thank him for the cecilia crown he gave you.

but you feel that he just can't see it in himself. it felt like he couldn't see the true beauty he held, how he truly has so much power over you. despite his playful braggings about being the best bard in the world, you knew that he was a lonely soul in person. he was too humble, you reason to yourself. you desperately wish you could give him a comfort that could soothe his worries about himself, that he was truly special, beautiful, and precious. if your art didn't work for him, you would find more ways to comfort him and his worries if it meant letting him use your body for a while, you told him in a dream once. but that was only a dream. you wanted to tell it to him, but for archon's sake did you consider yourself a shy coward.

he lets out a hearty chuckle as he gives you a warm you're welcome, my dear. his hands trace over the sketchbook that you set aside earlier before you headed to the stream to look at yourself. you panick.

sadly, you were more of an artist than a poet. you are one that expressed through art than their words. you were not very good with orally expressing your feelings, much so with words. talking was overwhelming for you; you didn't want to burden him with your difficulty in handling your feelings for him before it all threatens to spill out one day. but you hoped that day wouldn't happen. you weren't as expressive as he was, and that was something that you envied him for. you want to curse your introverted self for every missed opportunity to use your words to express every ounce of your immense love for him. it was always the same cycle; whenever venti does something, or even just the tiniest thing that makes your heart swing and your body twitch with excitement, your words feel stuck in your throat. but sometimes it would always be too late before venti would have to leave or either look like he didn't notice how awestruck you were. and there you were, left dumbfounded and alone with your awkwardness in emotion you can't help but feel like you weakly told him only a small percentage of how much you really love what he does for you. a pathetically small one, you might say. it doesn't quite express how much you really do love him. you want to give your all, but oh, curse you for being such a shy little melted puddle around him. people say an artist loves too much, but most of all they disregard any warnings before they throw themselves in the endless ocean that we call obsession. and in that obsession, you can see it clearly in every artwork they do. and that obsession happens to be that bard you fell madly in love with, who is no other than the venti you love.

he catches a glimpse of your in-progress sketch of him. "ohohohohoh! let's see what you've managed to sketch of me, hehe," normally, you wouldn't even let anyone see your sketchbook. not even a peek. but if it was venti, you'd make an exception. but at the same time, it still makes you nervous when he traces his eyes over your art. but you're glad he always asked for your permission to do it until now. "may i look at your drawing? i'm sure there's a lot of talent you haven't shared with me!"

you nod shyly and give him a look that tells him: of course, he can do it.

but little did you know, he can see how much you adore him. the body doesn't lie, after all. your trembling lips when you shyly utter his name doesn't lie, your twitching fingers at the mention of his name doesn't lie, the way your eyes avert their gaze from him when he approaches your direction doesn't lie, the way your legs instinctively cross and attempt to rub that spot of yours when he leans in closer to you after you press your sketchbook against your chest as you meekly hope that he doesn't see what you're drawing of him doesn't lie, the way your ears flash red when he tosses teasing remarks that not-so-subtly hint to your raging obsession of him doesn't lie, the way he can hear your heart beat within a moment's notice as he makes provocative hints to your big fat crush on him doesn't lie, the way your back muscles spasm and limbs convulse as his hands pin you hard down on the floor during that one time he tells you to keep quiet as he rails you in your awfully detailed daydreams of him doesn't lie.

venti is not stupid; and you knew that.

it makes him want to smirk with how cute you look like trying to hide your obvious obsession with him. he flips to the page where you last left off thanks to the pen you inserted in between the page. he grabs the book by one hand before he observes it closely, a clear look of pleasure in his face.

"oh my..."

as you've finally sat beside him, you perk your head to look at him. before you can say anything, he goes,

"my goodness, windblume. you are truly talented," he grazes his fingers over the sketch, careful not to smudge it. "i can tell you're not done with this yet, but..."

you wait for him to finish. he looks at you with appreciation.

"you've gotten all of my features right! my hair is just the right length, my eyes are the correct shape, and my clothes..." he laughs to himself, but you catch a distant and wistful look in his eyes. you can tell he was thinking of something else, but you didn't want to inquire him about it. but you can feel something was up by that look. you knew his body did not belong to him, and that's what made you extremely guilty for loving his body. his body wasn't his, it belonged to that boy from the rebellion. the boy who took down that ruler who once ruled over mondstadt. the boy that venti did not want others to forget about. your admiration for him had never felt so wrong and disgusting for yourself, you were lusting over a body that wasn't his. you were craving to be touched by the body of a boy who lived from many a millenia ago, and yet you couldn't force down the irrepressible obsession you had for the bard that was staring at the body you drew of that boy. you knew it, and it made your stomach churn at the thought of venti discovering how much you loved his body. the feelings of guilt devour and chew you away. how disgusting of you, [y/n], you reprimanded yourself. your last bits of rationality tugged at you, it begged you to keep some form of dignity with yourself. but every touch from venti is sending you to commit sin with him, not like he was already a sinner. a god for a sinner, and you, his angel. it felt like you only lusted over him, not loved him.

and you didn't want that to be the only message that you would give him. you loved him so much more than just that, but damn your cluelessness in how you wanted to say it to him. damn it all.

you wanted to convince him that he is his own person. that he wasn't a reflection of the one who took on so many burdens as he did. that he was just a statue carved from the harsh hands of the past. that he didn't have to be tied down to the solid pole of his tauma.

you wanted to love him in a way that didn't disgust him; but you weren't sure of what reaction he would take if he would ever find out.

but you didn't know how. he always kept to himself, despite his expressive personality, he held so many secrets about what he truly feels and you could sense that. so, would the same thing happen if you were to profess the love you had for him?

he sighs, than he proceeds to close his eyes for a moment before looking at you. "you are truly one of the most unique of artists i've ever met," he spoke in a somber tone that made you wonder what made him come up with that tone all of a sudden. "tell me, why is it that you love drawing me so much?"

"i..."

the silence was louder than it should've been. but you braved yourself to continue.

"i... i've always thought you looked beautiful," you admitted, "and.."

"hmm?" his silence in listening to you made your heart pound at such an intense rate. you couldn't recall that one time where someone had listened to you like this.

"and your... body... is something that i admire. it's part of being an artist."

"part of being an artist? what do you mean?" he shifted his somber expression to a curious one, hanging on to your every word. it made you feel like you were held on a pedestal, his eyes were on you. it took all of your willpower to not stutter and lower your voice.

"you see, venti," you clear your throat. "when an artist loves you, you will live forever. your image is something that will be imprinted in the pieces of art they commit to. i'm sure you can understand this as a poet and musician."

venti nods. "of course i do. but from what you've said, you hint to say that you love me?" he chuckles lightly once again. he knows your passion for art, and that is something that he has always encouraged from you time and time again. he cheered for you endlessly, and he is what kept you going. "that's very sweet of you, my muse. but why the shyness in admitting this? is there something you want to take out from your chest?" he noted on your rather... extreme shyness than your usual air around him. you open up to him more than you do to other people, and that was something that he had always taken pride in for. you trusted him more than you trusted others, for he had a place in your heart that none could compare.

"it comes from a place that i wouldn't like to admit to anyone else but you." finally. you've gotten a sentence out. but you haven't watched the other words you wanted to say to him, until he asked you.

"oh? and what is it?" that's it. you've piqued his interest.

"that i love your body."

venti pauses. he has never heard someone regard him in such a way. in all his years he has never had someone admire him like this. more so to the point that they admit it like that. it's all so... sudden, so... casually. he is used to people worshipping him in different ways, and he had heavy responsibilities bequeathed unto him from it all. he was loved and worshipped, but not in the way a lover or a friend would do for him. no, he was loved and worshipped like they clung and prayed to him for their dear lives and whispered to their anxious companions that their diety, their god, might save them all. that their salvation may arrive to appease the disasters and protect them from everything that slowly destroyed their lives. that hopefully, just hopefully, his touch would strengthen the weakened soldier who clasped his hands together and murmured prayers where, amongst a war, his knightly comrades had fallen. that his gentle voice would soothe the crying infant whose mother couldn't comfort as she cradled it, shielding its head with her trembling hands as she stuck her eyes to the fiery clouds above and the looming dark dragon that ravaged the city. that his return will bring hope to the ones who lost it. the songs of their worship was whispered and cried in moans, wails, and pleads as they endured floggings from their oppressors. but they didn't stop, no. they didn't stop. they didn't stop until they preached about how lord barbatos will come and guide them.

but he saw them all.

and he failed them. or so that was what he believed. he failed them so terribly that the marks of how they clinged unto his arms and legs left scars that couldn't heal on his body. he watched his children's lives wither under the evil hands of war, tyranny, and disaster. whose lives were crushed under its sharp nails. in a life where he is used to religious adoration, one that had mercilessly thrown such pain, guilt, and responsibility unto his shoulders, never would he have thought that someone would fall in love in the form he took. the form of a friend.

venti hid the spiraling thoughts under a well-played mask of carelessness and naivety that was even better than the best of performers in teyvat. for you had not seen what his looks had told you. he remained as intrigued as he was seconds ago.

but you can tell he felt something that was more than just curiosity. but you didn't quite know what it was. but all you knew is that you can tell it wasn't a pleasant feeling.

and now that friend crossed his mind now that you've mentioned his body. that friend...

he knows he loves you too, he loves you to the moon and back and he would sing songs of his love for you until his throat bled and his voice was hoarse. he, just like you too, was madly obsessed with you. you were there with him for the longest time, when all fell down, you were the last one standing, you were the one who still extended your arms to him in an open welcome. you loved and welcomed him time and time again. your loyalty to him was as unbreakable and ran rapid and free in every corner of teyvat like the wind. like the wind, it was always there and flowed in every manner of direction; from the way you would defend him against anyone who had dared to harass and misjudge him when he was only but a new god, to the way that you would softly hold him in your arms as we wept onto your shirt until it was wet from his tears from all that he had been through, to the way that you would carry him sturdily when he was passed out drunk until you got back home, to the way you took care of him and fed him during the days he neglected himself when no one else did, to the way you kissed him more fervently than he thought he could do, to the way you had done everything for him. you stood beside him in transforming mondstadt to the way it is now, when his friend could not see the fruits of his labor in the country that he protected, you were there. you were there for everything. and he was for you, too.

but he could sense a pang of remorse in your voice when you admitted that.

"but venti, please, listen. i don't mean it in that way, i just-" you spoke after a few seconds of witnessing his expression form to that of pensiveness. "i don't want you to be scared, or disgusted when i say this-"

"scared? disgusted? who said i'd be?" venti did not even know where the sudden urge of his words came from. maybe it was from the intense emotion of confusion when you spoke those words, but he could never imagine himself being scared or disgusted at you. not when you admitted how much you loved his body. he felt complimented, in a sense. it meant you loved the boy whom he had taken the form of. you honored him the same way he did. at least, that's what he deluded himself to think. he would've cringed at how sudden he spoke those words, but there wasn't anything that could be done. the words have been spoken, there was no need to push them back once it had already gotten out.

"no one. i just felt scared the moment i told you that..." you answered him in a flash to quell the worry you heard from his voice.

"scared?" he repeated, "w-why?"

"because your body doesn't belong to you. i didn't know what you'd think about me loving the..." you trailed off, before taking a deep breath, "form that you took."

his eyes relax in realization, but his gaze was still on you.

"i did not want to make you feel like i only lust for your body, but i just love you, i really do. i don't love you for your body, i love you for being you." you couldn't handle it when the word lust left your lips. it felt disgusting to you, but you also craved a form of it. you wanted to be touched, held, kissed, and adored by him. you craved those intimate moments that you were sure you wouldn't ever get from him. at least, not until now.

you winced at the image of lusting for his body, but you couldn't help it. you remember all the nights you had spent obsessively doodling him from memory on your sketchbook, remembering all the curves on his smiles and the bright sparkle in his eyes. you drew his hair hanging on the air so gracefully, and his clothes were painted as if they were so real. to say that you were a talented artist would be an understatement. but on some days it had gotten worse, where your obsession would get the best of you. all those suggestive and lewd sketches were torn and tossed into the trash, you were confident no one would see the fantasies that ran around your head when you drew suspicious poses of his hands and body languages that hinted all the things you wanted him to do to you.

but they weren't safe. thanks to him.

surprise, venti was obsessed with you to the point that he would stalk you sometimes. much to your obliviousness, each night he would follow you home and watch your behavior from your window. you'd always assume that he's out performing, but sometimes he can't help it. he just wants to admire his pretty little songbird, so it wouldn't hurt if the bard did not appear to the plaza. afterall, he doesn't have a set schedule that he's obligated to follow. instead, he goes back to your shared home and sneaks in by the window when you weren't there. sometimes, he was left alone in the house during his freetime. and he takes advantage of this time by snooping around your items, checking them all without leaving a trace. you think you've kept them all safe, but little did you know that each of your drawing was seen by him. even the ones that were thrown in the trash, oh boy! it was a ride for him to see. although it took him moments, agonizing moments for him to process what he saw, he remembered that he was obsessed with you, too. so he wasn't alone. but he was delighted. and from then on, your drawings became a favorite part of what he likes to browse in your room when you were gone. regardless if they were torn, he would persistenly find the other paper to piece them together to reveal the full image.

and someday, he would turn those drawings into a reality.

but he would never force his hand, no, you're his angel! how could he do such a thing? he would never force you into doing such things of him, he would consider it very unbecoming of him to do this to his own precious significant other. unless of course, you initiated it. this just so happens to be the day where he is so happy!

hiding behind mixed emotions, he is a guilty boy behind all that. he feels thrilled, delighted, shocked, surprised, but also... guilt. and he knows why and where it came from. he had taken the bard's form for a thousand years, and when he had committed actions and left blood stains on his hands for the ways war had cursed him, and he wondered to himself what the bard would've thought and what he could've done if it weren't for him. would he approve of the things he had done now? he was carrying his image, after all. the people, unbeknownst to the past with his body, will strongly associate his actions to that of the bard. or maybe, they will forget about his friend one day. as a result, he was always careful of what he did, he did not want to be some brutish, warmongering god that handled situations with physical violence, for he did not want violence to be associated with his friend's name. it's no wonder pacifism was his strong suit, he was a gentle god, after all.

but to picture himself indulging in sexual acts with his friend's form... it left such mixed feelings inside of his stomach. he couldn't shake off the pitting feeling in his belly at the imagery of linking his lips with yours as a string of saliva between the both of you drips to your chest when he pulls his lips out from yours, bare skin to bare skin. the moans he emits from his own friend's voice, him making you moan because of his- no, his own friend's body thrusting into you, the confusion in him spiraled him into insanity. he did not know wether it was his or his friend's body anymore. but oh... how much he wants to curse you for making him fall in love with him. but at the same time, it's hard for him to be so mad at you, when you're so angelic, compared to his sinful desires. but alas, he had been victim to the hypnosis of temptation. he was no longer the holy god of freedom, for he was bound by the chains of lust when he fell in love with you. the dilemma was truly hard to figure out.

but now he's given up on that a long time ago, due to how long he had been in love with you.

"oh, my windblume," he cooed. the sudden tilt of his voice made you think again. first, he was somber, and now, he was... becoming affectionate to some degree? you hoped that this was because of a positive change in his realization and understanding of your words. you gulped, hoping that this conversation would lean to a better turn.

"you do not need to be so guilty," he spoke in a reassuring tone, caressing your cheek and pressing soothing circles around it. "but you must know..." his grip grew firm on you. "that i love you regardless. even if you think your love for me to be revolting, please know i do not-" his voice starts to become serious, yet tender. "and i mean do not ever think that i would be scared or disgusted of you. i love you so much, i can't ever see myself to be that way around you, my angel."

his words left you speechless, for a while. making you inwardly sigh a breath of relief. his free hand gently places itself on top of yours that is resting on the ground, he lifts your knuckles and kisses it. "but i do take flattery after you admitted that."

"hmm? y-you think so?" you look at him with a perplexed look, the pink in your cheeks becoming amusingly obvious to him. "but i thought-"

"ah, ah, ah." he shushed you with the hand that was previously caressing your cheek, "i know what you're going to say. that you thought i was going to be offended at the fact that you love the form of my friend?" you were surprised at the way he read into your mind so well. you nodded vehemently at the isn't that the answer, hmm? look he gave you.

"thought so. in that case," he leaned in foward, his hand was still in yours.

aaannnd that bastard was back into his usual tone, you thought.

"it's only fair if i..." he breathed into your neck.

the hand that held yours was now pinned unto the grass, your hand unable to move because of just how strong his hand was in pinning it down, you did not expect that. it wasn't like you wanted to resist, anyway. before you knew it, he props himself up from his knees until his chest was until your eye-length to head-length and uses the hand that previously shushed you into forcefully pushing your shoulders down to the ground in a split second, your chest was heaving up and down from the tension.

all while keeping his eye contact with you with those lovestruck, half-lidden eyes. and that smug smirk.

how on earth did he?- you stare at him with wide eyes, completely motionless.

your breath hitches and your heart is running a marathon from the feeling that you got on your waist.

it was venti straddling to position himself on top of your hips.

"...show you how i'm not the slightest bit offended, but honored."

"i- venti-" you couldn't comprehend how all this happened in a flash, well, venti did have a feat for taking you by surprise on multiple occasions, but not this one, no.

"but first!-" went on, completely ignoring your protests. "let me have a show of demonstration for my..." he presses his lips threateningly close to yours, "gratitude to your gratifying confession."

"or should i say," he lilts, "confession to your god?"

"and that is?" you rasp. suddenly wanting to defy and challenge him. venti rolls his eyes, he was used to your sudden spouts of defiance and sassiness towards him. but this wouldn't stop him now.

"you'll see, my dear," he continued on with his 'show of demonstration', proceeding to press unexpected kisses from your collarbone after pulling away the collar of your shirt to kiss your bare skin. his kisses were something that you were used to, but they were always the ones that make you fall for him over and over again. you can feel the lust between them, each kiss having a whimper or a moan from either of you. he slowly progressed to nibbling, to licking, to biting. you felt his hard-on from his shorts rubbing against your clothed area. but you didn't care. you didn't ask him to, but you don't feel the need to ask him for him to do it anyway. it began for what feels like minutes, until hours. he went from your collarbones, to your shoulders, your neck, then finally, your lips. he did not miss a single spot of your bust, no. you were quite literally a whimpering mess under him; unable to control your noises any longer. you were sure you felt like you weren't so sweaty, until you felt his saliva marking you from his lust, which made you go crazy even more. now you weren't only covered by your sweat.

he drove you insane, but you drove him insane even more.

although him kissing your lips felt light, now, they felt like it was devouring you. even if he gave you a few seconds to breathe in between kisses, now it felt like you had only one before he dove in for the next kiss. he kissed you until he was tongue-deep into your mouth, both of you making a moaning mess of each other. he was biting your lips playfully at first, but now it was no longer a joke. it stung. but you loved it. you wanted it, anyway.

so who were you to deny him?

"you know," he whispered, "all those drawings you threw away didn't help in covering your secrets."

you were sure you felt your eyes widen at him, your heart going evern crazier by the second.

"those what?"

"come on, you heard me." he teased, "go on, would you care to explain?"

"i..."

he laughs, "i was only kidding! you don't have to justify yourself in front of me."

and there he goes, saying things that put you on the spot, only to have him say it was only a joke or a prank. that bastard. or maybe you were just reading in a little too deep? maybe you don't have to take him seriously. but how did he find out about them anyway?

"but... how did you find out about them, anyway? i thought i-" you pause, "wait, you did not sneak into my trashcan, did you?"

"heheh, what else could i have done? you're not very good at keeping secrets, you know." he sighs, "honestly, you could've done way better than that."

"but why would you do that, anyway?" you hissed.

"because i couldn't help myself! it's not like your drawings totally didn't stick out from the trashcan that i completely did not notice them at all!" he sarcastically fought back.

shit. you swore you kept them well. but now you've come to the conclusion that you lacked better foresight, but you knew that there was no getting out of this situation. not when the cat's out of the bag.

"fine. i... i really did draw them all," you admitted. venti was still giving you your well-deserved love marks, but he paused.

"of course, i know you drew them! who in mondstadt could ever draw like you? much more even live in the same house as me?"

you gulped. you realized you just stated the obvious to calm the tension that was building in the air. talk about your social skills, you remarked yourself.

venti laughs, amused by your dumbfounded expression. "there's no getting out of it, windblume," he taps your cheek in a reassuring manner. "for now, let's enjoy the moment we have. but you did say you love my body?"

"yeah."

"well, seeing that you always admired me in my pure form as barbatos," he sighed dreamily. "maybe i'll..." he lifted himself up, hands below the hem of your shirt, cold hands rubbing on your bare belly. he positioned himself comfortably as he unclipped his cape and untied the back of his corset. he grunted as he set aside his cap. but you did not stop him.

there was no stopping him from the depths of lust that he reached, all just for you.

forgive me, my friend, he tells his body, ...for what i am about to do.

he has finally made his decision.

"...reenact all those drawings of me with you."

TAGLIST: @ventiscumdump @ventishipwindows @ventisslut @dearestxiao @carmendeiact2whenplz @lanternlightss @cinnabell2 @honorary-fool

callling on all venti fans! i'd love to hear your thoughts on this fic! likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!

[godineedsleep]

Venti x Reader

summary: Venti and his continually reincarnated lover

wordcount: 1.4k+ | tags: mild angst, fluff, reincarnation trope

pairing: venti

Barbatos knew ever since he had taken the form of his friend that life was fickle. He watched people pass on like grains of sand in a time glass, one after the other, soon forgotten about as others followed suit. But the wind does not forget. Not so easily.

He once again felt his bleary eyes open, the calls of his people ringing behind his ears. He felt anemo swirl up around him, eyes flicking around the forest he lay in. It was different than when he closed his eyes, bushes in the wrong place and trees moved, but it was not much of a shock. He felt the prayers of his people chorus behind his ears and heeded their call.

And then he met you. You, who was so fierce and brave and still so kind yet in the face of war. He watched as you fought, talked with you, and sat complacent as you charmed him. You had asked for his name, once. He had told you to call him Venti and to remember him as the eccentric bard home to Mondstadt.

And then he watched as you were slain. You had been strong, vision or not, but you were unlucky just once. And Barbatos watched as your chest concaved to the force of the blade, and as your blood joined the many already fallen, and he felt a strange sense of calm as an arrow flew through the head of the enemy.

Barbatos mourned you, just like he did every mortal. He mourned you by the bottle, by the sweetness of the wine that trickled down his throat. He mourned you as he mourned all the fallen of Mondstadt he couldn’t protect, as he mourned those who died trying to protect the nation he held so dear. 

During a Windbloom Festival, over two hundred years later, Venti saw your eyes again. You had changed- you were a little shorter, hair a little lighter- but those eyes, with a bold determination as you bickered with a shopkeeper about her price of goods, he couldn’t forget. Your mannerisms stayed unchanged, you still had the familiar inflections and your hands still held the hems of your clothing when you were stressed. 

Venti slips behind you, glancing towards the rather annoyed shopkeeper.

“What seems to be the matter here?” He chirps, voice light as he smiles towards the two of you. The shopkeeper barely spares him a glance before dismissing him.

“I’m sorry, I can’t take payment right now.” She turned back to you, eyes sharpening to a glare in an instant.

“And I told you, I won't lower my prices. What you see is what you pay.” Venti winces as you grind your teeth, watching you become more agitated.

“Your prices are extortionate.” As you continue to rant, Venti looks down at the shop's products. You had been pretty accurate- for selling simple wrappers to hold windblooms when gifting them, they were at a high price. When glancing around, he found this was the only stand selling them.

“It takes advantage of people just wanting to enjoy Windbloom- how did you even decide this was fair?” The shopkeeper stares at you flatly.

“Inflation.”

“The economy has been on an incline for a while, you lying-” Venti places a couple of mora on the table, cutting you off. He grins at the cashier, eyes twinkling.

“I believe this should be enough, correct?” The shopkeeper diverts her attention immediately to the coins, swiping them off the counter before any objections. She thumbs over them, waiting a few seconds before pushing the bundle of paper towards you. 

“Take it. Next.”

Venti dragged you to the side, glancing at you. You were a bit dazed by his action, eyes trailing up from the bundle of thin papers in your hands to stare at him- studying him. So, he thought, it was only fair to return the favor. You surely had changed, your clothing less knightley and more of the common folk- and you dressed comfortably, too, which was good- but as your eyes dragged over his own appearance he found himself admiring that familiar fire, kept safe within the borders of your iris.

“You…” he hears your voice, hesitant and unsure, and hates how it reminds him of your demise. Your former demise, he supposes. 

“We haven’t… met before, have we?” 

Barbatos finds himself strangely silent, feeling the warmth as you hold his hand to keep him still. Like he would run. And he finds himself smiling, whether from the absurdity of that notion or the look on your face he didn’t know.

“Maybe when we were younger.”

It's a few years later when Venti finds himself gently strumming his lyre, your head in his lap, during a bright summer day. It was cool, with the wind constant and the shade of the tree at Windrise. You were dozing off, smiling as you listened to his song. And when you looked up at him, eyes tired yet shining and happy, he couldn’t stop himself from pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. He loved the way your eyes crinkled as your smile widened, and he relished the way you pulled him back down for a proper kiss. 

It was these small moments Venti cherished, where the two of you shared these quiet moments together, where he could simply enjoy your company. The moments the both of you could just sit, stop for just a moment, where he could hold you and sing to you and you could just be happy with him. 

And then you died again. 

It was different this time, though. You had lived long this time, the crows feet beneath your eyes that used to only appear as you smiled became more permanent. He wished he could have grown old with you. He wished he had the heart to change his form from how he died, to give you the sembalance of growing old with your partner. He wept in your arms time after time, agonized over that fact. 

But even if he could age, Barbatos thinks, it wouldn’t change anything when you eventually passed. While even when a gust of wind peeters out, it only resumes someplace else. At a different time. 

He held your hand, bony and thin as it was, as you looked at him with the smile he so adored. And you passed.

And so he slept, for years and years and years, until he was needed again. 

He would wake again and again and again, and would meet you again and again and again. Sometimes your hair would be different, other times your frame. But your eyes were always the same. They always looked at him with a distant sort of recognition, and that small flame would always be lit. 

He would never force his way into your life. There were lifetimes that went by where you simply said hello to him on the street, just as many as the two of you would become friends. You would have your own loves too, aside from him. He found that any lover he would try to have would only remind him of you, so he abstained. 

In the times you were gone, sleep and wine became his friends. His children of Mondstadt were easy to converse with, yes, lively and kind as they were. But they never had the comfortable familiarity you brought. Only the remembering of ghosts long past. 

Venti finds you again, years later, humming a gentle song on the base of the tree of Windrise. And you look up as he walks over, smiling. But he stops, shocked, as he sees more than just the usual faint recognition in your eyes. There was something… more there. He can’t help himself from gently murmuring your name, and just the sound sends you smiling and laughing. 

He feels you crash into him, shocked still, arms instinctually wrapping around you. Venti finds himself laughing along with you, the bottle of wine he had brought to drink dropped somewhere to his side. When he finds your eyes, he sees recognition he hadn’t seen in them before- at least, when the two of you met for the first time. And he sees your eyes filling with tears: of relief, happiness, and other emotions he couldn’t place. 

“You haven’t changed a day, my love.” You smile up to Venti, grinning wide as he gently wipes your tears from your face. Your smile wavers for a moment, growing bittersweet. “I thought I’d never see you again.”

And Barbatos smiles, gentle, as he runs his fingers through your hair.

“For as long as the wind blows, I will protect you, just as you have protected I.”

And you smile. And he thinks that his patience has been worth it.

[aetheternity]

Ngl it bugs me a little bit when I'm reading an x reader with pregnant reader and said pregnant reader got that way because of an immortal being but the pregnancy is completely the same as it would be for a normal human baby..

JUST GO NUTS WITH THE DETAILS DAMMIT

Have the immortal father explain to reader that carrying said baby to full term would only require four months of pregnancy instead of the normal nine. Have said baby need far more food than a normal baby. Have a huge risk of death. Maybe even have said baby talk to their mom in the womb via telepathy. The options are literally endless.

[albenyx]

The one that got away

character — venti x fem!reader

warnings — grammatical errors, typos, not proofread, reincarnation au, angst, slight comfort?, inspired by the venti ship w a friend's oc in a dc server i'm in c:

It was a shame, to run out of time in the past.

Just remembering how you died had Venti wincing and his mood going down immediately, knowing he could've saved you. He could of done something, yet he stood there frozen and watched as you get your life taken away from you.

He was the Anemo Archon, was he not? He was an Archon. He could have stopped it, he could have prevented the incident from happening. He could have done something to lengthen your life span.

How interesting. Venti? Falling in love? He never guessed he'd experience such thing, he was always the watcher, the audience. Never the main spotlight, never the one to experience. And yet... there he was... way off his ambitions, falling in love deeper by the minute.

Falling in love with a creation who couldn't even feel emotions.

Heh.

And then it was ruined, every single little dream crushed when his beloved's body dropped to the ground.

'It's unfair.' He thinks, with how he lived while you didn't. A former God, cursing his immortality... wishing for the sweet release of death.

But at the same time... he thinks, he knows, he deserves it. He deserves to live with the guilt, the mistake and the regret for eternity. He does not deserve to be relieved, to be at ease, not when he had a fault, or at least that's what he thinks. A punishment.

Years, centuries, decades had passed.

And he's still there, still stuck in the past, with the same feeling, same memory. The first time Venti hasn't let something go, the first time he stayed stuck into something.

And as he slides open the door he assumes to be his club's door, he is greeted by the sight of you.

His the one that got away.

Oh, you looked so... beautiful. Just like the day he lost you.

'My cecilia.'

He missed you.

And when you bolted up from your seat and turned to look at him who stood just at the door, your eyes full with the look of unknown. Like you've never met him before yet something was familiar. If it weren't for Venti's composed nature, he would of crumbled just by seeing you again.

Finally. After centuries.

'Welcome back.'

“Sorry? May I ask who you are and what you are doing here?”

His heart aches, snapping back to reality. Of course, you wouldn't know nor remember him. You wouldn't know of what happened in the past, and... somehow, Venti was okay with that. For you to live a life with no knowledge how much you had to suffer just so you could please your creator, to be seen and heard by her...

'It's better this way.'

He thinks, and then he flashes you a smile—unsure if you can even see him in this life for you were blind in the past. “Apologies for the intrusion, it wasn't my intentions to startle you. I'm...” He pauses, hesitating.

Does he even deserve to be known by you?

In this life?

After his mistake?

Does he deserve to be blessed by your presence once more?

Questions. So many questions he shook off, not wanting you to wait longer for his introduction. “I'm Venti. Apologies, I sort of... forgot my bands practice room.” He gives a sheepish smile, remembering his band mates were once the people he gifted an anemo vision to.

A feeling of hope swirled inside Venti when he sees a look of familiarity in your eyes, then that hope disappearing hearing your next words. “5wirl, right? I am sorry, but I don't know where's their practice room too. You found the wrong person to ask.”

He inwardly sighed, of course. You won't remember. It's not impossible yet the possibility of you recalling who he was and what you two once had... it was quite small.

He plans to avoid you, to not destroy your happiness. And yet he still stood there at the door, a look of concern on his face when he notices a slight look of sadness in your eyes.

He noticed. He always did.

“It's alright, I was just planning on practicing alone anyway. If it's not too rude to ask.. Are you alright? You just looked sad, and it's none of my business but I just want to uh... make sure?” He inwardly winced at his choice of words as he looked at you, nevermind his choice of words. He wanted to make sure you were alright.

Just like how he did back then.

“You just met a random person in a dark and empty school. First reactions is to be scared. Aren't you scared?” You leaned back on your chair with a small smile towards his way and he's sure he could feel his heart flutter at the sight of it. “Hm. You're weird.”

“Hm?” Your words catch his attention, crossing his arms as he leaned on the door frame with a smile. “I dont know. Should I be scared of you?”

No. No matter how much you were hated, you were misunderstood and seen as the villain... Venti was never afraid of you.

“Should you be? We're just strangers and schoolmates. Don't you think you should be alarmed around people than be so carefree with them?” You hum as you tapped your fingers on the desk, looking like you were expecting something happening. “Hm.. No, not to you at least.” He shrugged, his smile slightly widening when he hears you chuckle. 'Precious.'

“You trust me so easily. You don't even know who am I, yet.” His tight-lipped smile fully widens hearing your words, a slight pang in his heart remembering only he remembered.

'I do. I do know you.'

“Ah. Is that so? I don't think I trust people easily.” As long as you're happy. He won't mind if he'll carry this regret alone.

“What makes me different?” You turn your chair around to smile at him. “Do invite yourself in. You might get tired standing there, I am not one to turn away guests.”

A smile. Something you had never gave him back then, it felt new. Relieving to see you, it felt... wonderful. To see you feel, to have emotions and know about them now.

And then the longing feeling in his heart returns once more, “Hm, not sure. But you're different in a good way.” Venti accepts your invite and walks in the room, taking a chair for himself to sit on as he faced you.

Just this once.

Just this once allow him to indulge in this longing feeling. To see you, look at you once more. To admire you up close once again.

'Once. Just this one time.' He promises to himself as both of you settle in a comfortable conversation. Something both of you never had time with back then.

'We didn't really have any time back then, didn't we?'

It would be a wonderful part to add on the story 'The Anemo Archon and The Puppet'. A story with two people, having a timer that ran out quicker than they expected.

Such story... It was interesting to Venti, to see that someone wrote about it and it has been one of the legends, a heartbreaking 'love story' as some mortals would call it.

And what they didn't know was that the story had it's continuation, in a new life.

The Anemo Archon's love for the creation endured even after her passing and reincarnation, yet the cruel twist of fate left him admiring from a far with a longing heart.

Star-crossed lovers. That's what you and him were. Out of touch, out of time.

special mention: @sevynnee ;)

[anonbinaryweirdo]

kaeya x higher ranked fatui harbinger reader

[hana-no-seiiki]

May I request a yandere bat family with a Venti! Reader who has powers similar including his personality (except the reader doesn't drink alcohol)

I love your writing take care 🍟✨✨✨

B-but Venti’s whole personality is about alcoholism-

I’ll try my best tho so here ya go.

TW/CW: Reader takes the form of Bruce/Damian’s ancestor so they have black hair. But it isn’t their true self so make of it as you will. Soft Yandere. Multiple Invasions of Privacy.

YANDERE! BATFAM x VENTI! READER

You’re an immortal wind spirit. You reached the level of godhood quite a while ago and spent your days roaming the Earth.

Let’s say you were friends with Bruce’s (and therefore Damian’s) ancestor long ago, and after their death you took their shape.

Knowing these two’s genes you were quite the good looking fellow. Almost blending in as their distant relative.

You have no need for food, or other basic necessities. Hell you didn’t even need to go to school as your dominion over the wind allows you to know everything that has been spoken.

But you took it upon yourself to always be there to guide your friend’s progeny, and thus you found yourself in Damian’s school as his classmate.

You seemed pretty lax. Carefree. Maybe even lazy. Damian didn’t really care much about you aside from the fact that you looked a bit similar to his father. Many people had black hair anyways. It’s not like you were super cute and his eyes kept wandering back to you or anything.

But then you aced many of the classes.

He never saw you study. In fact you spent most of the class trying to distract him or conversing with his other classmates.

This caused him to do an investigation about you, where he found out that you don’t even exist.

At least in the eyes of the government and even the files his father kept.

You meet Tim similarly. Let’s say you three of you go to the same college and similar to Damian, you also decided to take care of the other batfamily.

…

You kind of bullied the poor guy.

You clicked pretty quickly and he was swift to start stalking you. But then also found himself with the same trouble of your ‘non-existence’. But unlike Damian who launches a full investigation, Tim has a one track mind.

He results to surveillance.

Dude has no care whatsoever about your privacy. He watches you wherever you go.

You know this, and are kinda bummed that you have to pretend to pee and do other human things. But since you’re immortal and well- know everything- you don’t have a sense of privacy + don’t react like a normal person.

Instead you pay him back by bullying him on his perversions

Like when he jerked off to you changing clothes

Or his secret collage of you which definitely contained photos of you being naked.

People are kind of offput by how Tim is obsessed over you, but are just completely baffled by how you reacted.

Like instead of going to the police or something you breach his privacy back instead and expose him. You don’t even seem perturbed just annoyed too.

In any case all this, including Damian’s investigation leads to you confessing the truth, and telling them that you were there to be a guide and whatnot.

Of course, everyone but Tim are a bit skeptical. But ever since you began helping them in vigilantism and showing just how much you knew and helped them they eased up.

Bruce has a little resentment since you weren’t there when his parents were killed. But gets over it once he found out how you’ve been tirelessly repenting

By stalking them

But I mean at least you tried

The rest I’ll cover more in the other ask that also requested Venti! Reader. Hopefully I’ll get to that soon.

EXTRA: Damian definitely witnessed your exchange with Tim and was jealous that you were giving his predecessor attention.

So he bullied him with you.

[impactedfates]

"You were...everything" - Archons + Wanderer x GN! Reader

★ Summary: Your immortal lover was a wonderful experience...and you were everything to them (i.e - immortal characters reaction to you dying)

☆ Characters Included (Separate): Venti, Zhongli, Ei/Raiden Ei, Furina + Scaramouche/Wanderer

★ Genre/Trope: Hurt/No Comfort (I tried anyways)

☆ Warnings: Major Character Death (You)

★ Extra: Some may know the audio, others may not. But I think it's angsty so here you go // Furina might be OOC as I haven't actually done the Fontaine story quest yet

As the anemo archon, Venti cared deeply about freedom. And he also cared deeply about you. He was a great boyfriend and was never that protective of you, he always believed you deserve to have freedom, not to be tied down by any restrictions.

But maybe he should've trusted his gut when you went away on one of your adventures, he always sent the wind to protect you and it would always bring you back into his arms. But when the wind could only return the sound of silence when you were meant to come back. He grew worried.

One day, a knock on his door came and he went to check. Jean stood there and looked at Venti before slightly bowing to him, she didn't need to utter a word. He knew what was going on.

You were gone.

Gone due to an accident. Gone because you wanted to protect others but that only got yourself killed.

After that day, after your funeral not many saw him. For days on end, when he did show his face though. He had a smile, continued on with his life as if nothing happened.

But people around him, even people who didn't know him well enough. Could see with each passing day, that this mask he put on would soon fall. He wouldn't be able to act like he got over your death, he never will.

But at least you had freedom right? Wherever you were. He just wished it was with him.

Zhongli was used to seeing people close to him come and go. He knew eventually you'll leave him too as many others did before. He knew he'd likely outlive you, so he wanted to make sure he spent as much time with you as possible. Telling you he loved you and making sure you felt loved.

He never wanted for you to be stripped away from him, and you promised you wouldn't. You two made a contract. A contract that stated you'll be with him for as long as you could, because even you knew he'd outlive you. A contract where he vowed to protect you.

You two truly loved each other, it's a shame he couldn't save you that day. The day where your contract with him ended. Too soon for the ex-archons' liking. He should've been the one to take the hit, he would've been just fine. But you cared about him too much to even see him hurt.

And all he could do was finish the treasure hoarders off before carrying you and running as fast as he could to a doctor. He wanted to believe you'll be okay, he just needed to get there faster, get your wounds treated.

But he knew deep down that no matter how much he hoped, the feeling of your body growing cold against his arms was enough to tell him he was too late.

He had lost you.

But what did he expect? He knew himself loving a mortal would be dangerous, he knew loving a mortal would mean he would eventually lose them.

Yet when he met you, he couldn't help but fall in love.

He was silent at your funeral, silent after that day. No amount of Hu Taos attempts at lightening his mood would work. Nor would anyone's attempts.

He had lost someone he had sworn to protect, and he couldn't even do that.

Eternity.

That's how long Ei wanted to be with you. For all of eternity, for as long as she's able to hold you in her arms, for as long as your mortal life would let her.

She never wanted to let you go. For you to go. She's already lost so many people she cared about. You couldn't be one of them. She didn't want you too. She did everything in her power to protect you.

But that didn't stop her finding your motionless body on the ground.

She knew she didn't have the best reputation after the Vision Hunt Decree. She knew people would be mad at her. She knew people may want revenge against her.

But why did you have to be the one hurt? You did nothing. You did nothing but love her and help her settle back in the life she once abandoned. You were so dear to her heart, you were so kind to her.

You didn't deserve the fate you received.

She never went to your funeral, only hearing from Yae Miko about how it went. The kitsune saw the look on Ei's face and placed a hand on her shoulder.

"They wouldn't like if you went back into isolation you know"

The archon knew that, and she wouldn't want to make you upset. Even if she couldn't see you, she knew that wherever you were, you wouldn't like it. She even promised to you she wouldn't.

She continued on ruling over Inazuma. Things were at ease, the culprits responsible for your death were punished. People were starting to warm up to her, though her actions were never forgotten.

And just as she wanted to, she'll be with you for all of eternity. Even if that was merely by your grave.

Furina always worried if she was a good archon, if she made her people happy despite how she may act around them. She knew she likely could never fully replace the past archon but she wanted to be liked.

Furina also worried if she was a good partner to you, yet despite how she may act to mask her insecurities. You stayed with her. You made her feel more confident in herself. She's truly so grateful for you. She never wanted you to disappear.

But you did.

The trail had to be rigged. It just had too. You weren't a criminal. But all odds pointed to you. But she knew you weren't the culprit for the crime.

It wasn't like you.

You wouldn't have done that.

You were with her that day.

She wanted to speak out, she had too. But her mouth went dry, no words could come out as you were taken away, to be detained. To be placed somewhere until the set day of your death.

And she could only watch silently as it all happened.

After that day, after the one she loved so dearly, the one who loved her despite her flaws was gone from her life. She was never the same. No one saw her act as she did before. She only sat in her seat silently as trails went on.

People of Fontaine, even the ones who weren't too satisfied with her. Was worried for her, of how she was going to be. If she was going to be okay.

But she won't be.

She had failed her nation. She had failed you.

"Get up!"

"Getupgetupgetup, GET UP."

Those were the only words that Wanderer could think to yell at you. He shook you, pinched you. Anything, just anything to wake you up. You were just asleep right?

Yeah, just asleep. Just taking a peaceful nap. Sure, your eyes showed nothing but it being unfocused.

But you were just daydreaming like you always do right?

Sure your body had become cold.

But that's just how your temperature is right?

You're not dead. You can't be dead. You told him you wouldn't betray him. Then why weren't you waking up? Stop messing with him. It isn't funny. It's not funny.

Please, just let him see your smile again. Just once.

.

.

. Please?

Nahida slowly came behind him and patted his back, trying her best to reassure him. Wanderer could only continue looking into your eyes as they slowly lost their light. His shakes to your body slowed down as he finally and quietly let out a faint sob.

You were the only one able to fully break down his walls, to fully see him for who he is. You didn't mind his words, you loved him. He loved you. People were thankful you two were together as the words that would leave the puppets mouth became much less harsh.

After the day you left him, betrayed him in his eyes. He got back to his usual self before he met you. He became much harsher though, to the point Nahida advised him to take a few days off. Just being alone. Just to cool down. It wouldn't be fair for others to be victim to his harsh words just because of how upset he was with what happened.

He wanted to hate you, he wanted to despise you for breaking your promise about not leaving him, he wanted to ignore you because you betrayed him like many others did before...but he loved you.

But he no longer could have you.

Teehee. I only based Furina on what I think she's like, I gotta stop procrastinating and actually start the quest fweooif (please don't spoil!!)

Also I am aware that archons can exactly die, however I'm pretty sure they can't from old age. So if all goes well, they can live for awhileeee.

Anyways! I hope you liked it :>> I might make a pt 2 with different characters if this gets enough attention.

Thanks for reading!!

[actiniumwrites]

hiya! if your requests are still open could i request a scenario any of the “immortal” characters (e.x: the archons & adepti) with a mortal!reader who exchanges a part of them to become immortal so that they don’t have to worry about leaving the character? the reader’s gender is up to you!

𝐓𝐎 𝐁𝐄 𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐍𝐀𝐋 (𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄)

synopsis: in which you exchange your vision for immortality, determined to live an eternity with your lover

characters: venti, zhongli, scaramouche, and dainsleif x gn!reader

warnings: angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, crying, mentions of death and mortality, fear of death, mentions of morbid conversations, scaramouche might be a little ooc here, purposefully inaccurate depictions of how celestia and visions work

notes: um so this request was sent to me back in november of 2022, so, anon, i am very sorry it took me so long to write this. i loved the idea a lot so i hope you enjoy this. also i’m not 100% sure scaramouche is immortal, but he’s been around for centuries and isn’t human so we’re just going to assume he is 👍

Venti:

The wind was blowing softly as you walked up to the giant tree, Vennessa’s Tree. You could hear the faint sounds of a lyre playing an alluring tune among it. If your boyfriend was anywhere, it was here…or the bar.

An off key note made your eyes snap up from where you were watching the ground, not expecting him to have heard you so easily.

“Hello, my love!” Venti cheered.

“Hi, Venti,” you lovingly spoke softly, moving to sit down next to him. Your head carefully moved to rest upon his shoulder and he continued to play softly, although this time around, it was a different song — one of your favorites.

A smile pulled at the sides of your lips. It was the first one since you’d gotten back from your journey. The very same journey your boyfriend was unaware of.

When he finished playing it, Venti set the lyre down next to him against a tree root. His face turned serious, “Something’s wrong.”

“Is there?” you played dumb, unsure of how to bring up the topic at hand. Venti didn’t fall for it. He never did.

He began to scan over your body for any sign of injuries, afraid something bad happened. When he saw there was nothing there, his hands gently placed themselves on the sides of your cheeks so he could rotate your head. He smiled the whole time, but you knew he was just masking his concern.

“I can feel it,” he said slowly, eyes squinting as he looked far off into the distance, “something’s different.”

You tried to hold it back, but tears sprung to your eyes. There was no hiding it now, “Venti, I…”

“Hey, hey, hey,” he hurriedly wiped your tears as you looked up at him, “it’s okay, I swear! You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

“No, it’s just,” you sniffled. The tears weren’t from injuries or hurt feelings, but simply because you were overwhelmed. The entirety of your future was now uncertain aside from the fact that you could no longer face death. You had centuries ahead of you, and it wasn’t something you had before, “my vision. I traded it.”

“What? Why would you…” he mumbled, mind racing back and forth. You loved your vision. It was something you had worked so hard for as a child, a representation of your dedication. It wasn’t like you needed money or anything, so why would you get rid of it?

Through your tear filled eyes, you smiled, “You don’t have to worry anymore, Ven. All those years ahead, we can spend them together.”

“You…you’re…?” he breathed out heavily, realization hitting him all at once. A smile broke through his lips, happy tears of his own were beginning to form, “you did that for me?”

You nodded and he threw himself against you, embracing you tightly. In all the years he had been alive, Venti was sure he would be alone forever. But in life and death, you were with him forever.

Zhongli:

Zhongli hadn’t noticed right away.

He was perceptive, yes, but there didn’t seem to be anything amiss with you at first. You often hid things very well. It was one of the only things he didn’t like about you. If something were to go wrong because he wasn’t observant enough with you, Zhongli would feel perpetually guilty.

It wasn’t until weeks after your journey that he had finally realized something had changed.

You seemed normal for the past few weeks. There were a few moments where you were oddly fidgety or anxious, but he chalked it up to the fact that you had just gotten back from a work trip. Perhaps you were tired out from it. Plenty of people came back a little on edge from trips, he had seen it first hand.

When it became continuous, worries began to whisper in his ear. No, he hadn’t thought you cheated or did something bad. Zhongli knew you well enough to know you weren’t that kind of person. If anything, he was worried that something bad had happened to you. That maybe someone hurt you or there was something you couldn’t tell him.

So, he brought it up at dinner one day.

His hand reached across the table, warmly cupping it around yours. His thumb gently traced over the back of it, a soothing action he knew you loved. He inhaled and pursed his lips before bluntly asking, “Did someone hurt you? Because if they did, I want you to know you can tell me and I will take care of it.”

Your face morphed into confusion, awkwardly laughing at his wild assumptions, “I’m sorry, what? Where’d you get that idea?”

Zhongli retracted his hand from yours slowly. His face was now equally as confused as yours, “I apologize, my love. You have been acting rather off since your trip. I thought maybe something bad had happened or someone may have hurt you. Am I incorrect?”

Another awkward laugh fell from your lips before you sighed and averted your eyes to look out the window of the restaurant, “Yes, but nothing bad happened. I’ve just been a little…down about something.”

He furrowed his eyebrows and tilted his head a bit to the side, “If you were feeling upset, you could have come to me. You know I hate to see you like that.”

“I know, I just,” you started hesitantly, “I wasn’t ready to tell you yet.”

“Tell me…what?”

The whirlwind of emotions you had been feeling over the past few weeks began to hit you harshly and you couldn’t stop the tears from forming in your eyes, “I traded my vision, Zhongli.”

He took a few seconds to process, but his hand grabbed yours again. He wasn’t sure what you were talking about, but the fact that you were crying was enough to scare him, “I…I am afraid I do not understand.”

“I made a deal with Celestia…to be come immortal. In exchange for immortality, they took my vision,” you explained slowly, staring down at the table.

Zhongli rose from his seat slowly before walking to your side of the table. He kneeled down beside you, a few tears springing at his own eyes as he looked directly into yours, “Why would you do that?”

“For you,” you breathed out happily, cupping his face as the tears fell from your eyes “I want to be with you forever, Zhongli.”

Zhongli rose a bit from his place on the floor. Cupping your face with his hands, he kissed you softly, yet eagerly. You could feel the love and passion with in it. All the sadness melted away in an instant.

He had witnessed so many of his friends and past lovers parish before him. Victims to time and mortality. But here you were, willing to sacrifice something you cared for so much to spend an eternity with him.

And in that moment, Zhongli realized he’s never loved someone as much as he’s loved you.

Scaramouche:

You were used to Scaramouche pushing you away when things got rough. Not because he was angry with you or tired of you, but because his emotions were too much to handle. The sadness was too much to bear.

The conversation of immortality had come up very often. A worry of his that he just couldn’t seem to shake.

What would happen when you were gone?

How was he supposed to move on?

Love someone else?

If Scaramouche was being honest, he knew there was no way he could love another. Not after you, the one person he’s ever truly loved and the only one he hasn’t lost. You understood and cared for him in a way that no one else ever had or ever could. Despite not having a real heart, his love for you was so strong enough to make him feel like he did.

When you left for some sort of trip, Scaramouche hadn’t been suspicious of anything. You claimed it was for your job — just a week long trip out of Sumeru to take care of some business. It seemed urgent, according to you at least. He understood and didn’t question any part of your story, even if it did have holes in it.

Although he didn’t show it outwardly, the week without you was rather miserable for him. Anytime you were gone, everything seemed to remind him of the centuries that he had been alone. The people he had watched die or turn on him and how weak he felt. It made him wonder, once again, how he could ever live without you.

When you returned days later, it was late at night. The lights to your shared home were turned off and everything was silent. You dropped your things inside, but before you could head to your room, you caught a glimpse of your boyfriend through the window. His hat was cast aside on the grass next to him where he was lying down. The wind was blowing his hair softly across his face as he gazed up at the stars, something you frequently did together.

Coincidentally, it was during those times that the topic of immortality would come up. The stars made Scaramouche sad when he peered up at them. Despite not believing in their genuine existence, he would hate to look up one day and find you among them. Far away from him. Mortality permanently holding you in its grasp.

You silently walked outside to where he was lying down, careful not to disturb him. You laid down next to him, gently taking his hand in yours. His fingers interlocked themselves with yours, but he didn’t bother to turn and look at you, already knowing who it was. When you looked to him, however, his eyes were glistening with small tears, the stars reflecting in them. He looked ethereal, but you hated how sad he looked — eyebrows furrowed, a frown pulling his lips downward.

“I’m not ready for you to leave,” he whispered painfully, voice cracking a bit as his eyes finally met yours.

You send him a fond smile, eyebrows turning upwards, “I’m not leaving anytime soon. You don’t have to worry.”

“But you will,” he started, a hint of anger laced his voice, directed at those who dared to take away the one thing he loved, “You’ll leave eventually. Just like everyone I’ve ever known. It’s only a matter of time.”

You sat up slowly, reaching into the pocket of your pants and grabbing something out. A flash of metal caught Scaramouche’s eye. He sat up instantly, recognizing what the mysterious object was.

It was your vision. The bright shining blue light it normally had was entirely gone, drained of power. Wordlessly, you handed it to him. He grabbed it, but looked up into your eyes with confusion. When he did, he finally noticed the exhaustion and dried tears all over your face.

“What is this?” He angrily inspected the grayed vision in his hands, “What happened to you? If someone hurt you, I swear to you, I’m going to kill them.”

“No!” you quickly exclaimed, interrupting his oncoming burst of anger, “No one hurt me. I did this myself.”

“Start explaining,” he demanded. Although he looked angry, you could see the worry and fear in his eyes.

“I’m tired of these conversations,” you hesitantly started, averting your eyes to a tree in the distance. You could feel your own sad frown pulling at your lips as you fidgeted with the vision he had returned to you. Inhaling, you continued, “If I’m being honest, I’m not okay with leaving you either. It tears me apart to see you like this, Scaramouche. It sounds selfish, but I…I don’t want to think of your life without me. Not when it’s already hurting you this much and I’m not even dead yet.”

You paused to wipe the tears that had unknowingly began to fall from your eyes. Gesturing to the vision, you explained, “The trip I went on wasn’t for work, and I’m sorry for lying to you about it. It was to make an exchange. By trading this with Celestia, I’m no longer mortal.”

Scaramouche’s eyes flickered back and forth between yours and the lifeless vision rested in your hands. A mix of anger, sadness, and relief hit him all at once. Years of memories flashed in his head from all the mistreatment in Inazuma, the Harbingers, and to his newfound life in Sumeru. But most importantly, he saw you and all the ways you’ve loved him ever since you found each other. His voice wobbled a bit, dancing between the lines of neutrality and sadness, “Why would you do that for me?”

You tossed the vision to the side and held his hand again, “My vision may have meant a lot to me, but nothing will ever mean as much to me as you do. I would trade everything I’ve ever owned to be with you forever if that’s how it had to be.”

The two of you laid back down together against the cool grass, staring back up at the stars. This time, however, his arms embraced you tightly. The stars seemed to shine a little more brightly, a little more beautifully. There was no chance for them to take you away from him anymore, and Scaramouche was forever grateful for that.

Dainsleif:

The burden of immortality sat heavily on Dainsleif’s shoulders. It was a curse he bore, but not one he would wish onto anyone else. It was painful, unkind, and often struck those who deserved it the least.

When you had found him, you were not originally aware of the fact that he had been among those who were affected by it. You knew he originated from Khaenri’ah, but you supposed he was like your old friend Kaeya, who was also from there, but was not a bearer of the curse.

Admittedly, it was difficult to be in relationship with Dainsleif at times because of it. He trusted you wholeheartedly, but there was always this lingering sense of doom in his eyes. There were times when he would get close with you, share his past and his deepest desires, but then he would pull away. It was a constant game of back and forth with him.

You were aware it was because he was scared, terrified even. Dainsleif had lived a long life of loss and sadness. He had failed in his duties as the Twilight Sword and, because of that, he was forced to witness the death and destruction of everyone and everything he loved around him. Anyone he had ever loved he had lost, and he couldn’t stand to watch that happen to you too.

You couldn’t bear it equally as much. Dainsleif was the best person to ever have come into your life. Someone you knew could never hurt you. Someone who showed you more love than anyone else ever had. Your love for each other was like no other. The only thing that could truly separate you from him would be death, and he would love you until that day came.

As painfully beautiful as that was, it saddened you to a degree that nothing else could. You did not want to lose him as much as he did not want to lose you. And so, you decided to lessen his punishment. Immortality was supposed to curse him with loneliness and suffering, but that loneliness wouldn’t exist if you were by his side for the rest of time.

You left as soon as possible, vision stored away in your satchel and a notebook in hand. It was your notebook that held your recipes. As a chef, there were all sorts of ingredients across Teyvat that you had to often import or travel to obtain. It was the perfect excuse to leave without him raising suspicion. Because, although Dainlsleif detested the Gods and Celestia, he would never let you do what you were about to do. Not for him, and not for anyone else. Not even for yourself.

It took you about a week to return.

Dainsleif noticed instantly something was different when you returned. It was a little past midnight. He was sitting at the table of your home, window open to his left to let the cool breeze sift through the house. He had been scribbling away at a map when the door walked open, and in walked you.

There were dark circles around your eyes, a conflicting look swirling within them. Part of you looked relieved, while the other part looked saddened. His eyebrows furrowed as you stumbled in through the doorway, whispering a small greeting to him. Quickly, he was by your side and hugging you dearly.

“Are you okay?” he asked worriedly, voice just barely above a whisper. You leaned against him, head tucked gently into his shoulder as you wrapped your arms around his abdomen. Silently, you nodded.

Dainsleif carefully brought you to the couch in the living room, sitting you down gently and setting your belongings on the small table in front of you. The breeze from the window drafted through again, strong enough to make you shiver. In an instant, Dainsleif was up and moving to shut it quickly so you could be warm and comfortable.

“Something’s wrong,” he started, hand moving to cup your face as you gazed into his eyes tiredly, “I know you aren’t just tired. So please, tell me what happened on your trip.”

You crumbled in an instant, unable to lie to his face, “I traded my vision. I’m sorry, I wasn’t actually going to get ingredients.”

Confusion settled even deeper into his blood as he stared at you, unable to comprehend what you were talking about, “Trade your vision for…what? Why would you need to trade your…oh.”

When he realized, you nodded carefully. The silence that followed suit scared you. You often had a hard time reading him, especially now.

His next reaction shocked you, however. Tiny traces of tears sprung to his eyes, threatening to pour over at any second. Your eyebrows furrowed, but before you could say anything, Dainsleif quickly leaned in and kissed you. Your eyes closed and you returned it, feeling the sadness, desperation, and love behind it. When he pulled away, you could see two or three tears had fallen from his eyes.

Gently, you wiped them away and hugged him tightly. He held you tightly in return, and silently, you both laid back against the couch. Exhaustion hit the two of you at once, knocking you out as you slept within each other’s arms. You had been exhausted from your trip and all the emotions you had felt from it. As for Dainsleif, his exhaustion from being cursed had eased up a bit on him. It him all at once, the realization and the lack of loneliness or worries he would have to deal with from now on. There was no more till death due you part, because finally, Dainsleif had you for forever and you had him.

[abyssruler]

breaking up, breaking down

pairing/s: albedo, childe, diluc, kazuha, scaramouche, xiao, venti, zhongli x gn!reader

summary: if there’s anything you can expect to be consistent in life, it’s that everything has an end. or — genshin men and how they are after you break up with them.

note: angsty in everyone’s part, but it got too lighthearted in childe’s bc i simply cannot take that ginger seriously (affectionate)

ALBEDO

There aren’t any notable changes to his routine. He’d still go about his day, working on his experiments and scribbling down notes, occasionally taking a break to sketch a pretty flower he saw or the wing pattern of a passing butterfly.

And then he finds himself drawing the outline of an eye, then a nose, then lips. Until he suddenly stops in the middle of drawing a strand of your hair blowing in the wind, your face frozen in a smile staring back at him through the canvas of his sketchbook.

It hits him then, the realization, the heart-wrenching clarity of what happened that leaves him sitting in his chair, staring at your face in paper and wondering where he went wrong.

He tries to distract himself by continuing his research, but his mind has a hard time focusing on what needs to be done. It’s agonizing, he doesn’t think he’s felt this way before, never even thought he’d ever feel such pain. In a way, he’s glad his master isn’t here to make a study of what emotional pain means to an artificial human like him.

He sees you two weeks after you broke up with him, laughing as you tried to haggle with a merchant for their wares, unaware of the charm you exude that draws people in like moths to a flame. But then your gaze moves, searching through the crowd—and Albedo should really leave now, avoid barging into your life because there simply isn’t a place for him there anymore—but he does none of that.

Your eyes meet. He doesn’t think he was imagining it when he saw yours dim for the briefest moment. (His heart hurts. Why are you looking at him like that?)

You make your way through the busy street to reach him. He tells himself he should leave, but for the first time in his life, he does what contradicts his logic and stays.

“You look good,” you tell him, something melancholic in the tone of your voice. Oh, if only you knew.

“You as well.” He wants to say more, wants to say how radiant you looked under the sun, the light hitting you in just the right way that has him itching to grab a pencil and immortalize the image in paper—but he holds his tongue. “I need to go.”

Your face falls. He wishes he wasn’t the cause of it. “Ah, right. You must be busy, as usual.” There isn’t a hint of bitterness to your voice, just resignation.

He leaves after bidding you goodbye, feeling the heat of your gaze at his back as he walked away.

CHILDE

He wants you and he will do everything in his power to have you back.

In the early days after you broke up, you won’t hear a word from him. Not a peep. You only hear passing news that dead monsters and hilichurl camps near the vicinity of your home have been utterly eradicated. Passing travelers claim how the areas were ‘strangely flooded’ even though it hasn’t rained in weeks.

Then come the gifts. From flowers to clothes to accessories to different delicacies that are all worth more than your entire life’s paycheck. And when that doesn’t work, Childe sets to work on his recruits.

You suddenly find yourself constantly being approached by a startling amount of Fatui recruits ranging from normal lackies to gunners to cicin mages, and even that one memorable time when a mirror maiden approached you in the middle of buying groceries and proceeded to buy everything in the store, saying all of it was for you.

The Fatui recruits had one thing in common: they all had nothing but praises to say for the Eleventh Fatui Harbinger.

“Master Childe defeated all the recruits in under ten seconds!” “Have you heard how Lord Harbinger killed twenty geovishaps and came out without a single scratch?” “I saw him buying that exact same shirt yesterday, it cost one million mora! He’s so rich!” “Lord Tartaglia has been so down lately. He keeps saying how much he misses his beloved.”

“Did you know? Even Lady Signora wept after she heard that you and Master Childe broke up.” That one, you’re certain never actually happened, and you made sure to tell that with an unimpressed look to the pyro agent who told you. As if Signora would ever cry, she’d probably throw a party for you for finally leaving Childe.

In the end, after cycling through so many recruits, he had no choice but to come to you directly.

…Which is how you woke up at six in the morning to the ground shaking and the sound of an eerily familiar laugh right outside your house.

You open your window to find Childe fighting a lawachurl right in front of your house, a ring of Fatuus surrounding and cheering him on. His smile brightens to an almost comical degree once he sees you and your bedhead squinting out from a window.

“You look so stunning today, beloved!” He steps back from an earth-shattering punch by the lawachurl. “I’ve brought you the biggest lawachurl I could find so I can show you how worthy I am of you!”

He then proceeds to—and you have to blink a few times to see if you’re not hallucinating—fist fight the lawachurl. And he’s actually winning. No vision, no weapon. Just his bare fists.

When the commotion wakes up your entire neighborhood, you have to go down there and yell at him to stop or take this fight somewhere that isn’t right in front of your house! He complies with a grin and a promise saying he’ll meet you later.

There’s something fond curling in your chest that you try and fail to smother. With an exasperated tone, you tell him that yes, you’ll find time in your busy schedule to meet him. He lights up like you just agreed to marry him and yells out rapid orders in Snezhnayan to his recruits.

“I’ll see you later!” He blows a kiss in your direction that you ignore. You turn away and walk back into your house, trying (and failing) to fight the growing smile on your face.

DILUC

It’s not evident to anyone who doesn’t know him well, but Diluc takes it close to heart and buries it among countless other regrets that have accumulated in his life. The turbulent feelings that threaten to overcome his mind at any hour of the day manifests itself in him becoming more withdrawn.

He’s gloomy, more brooding than usual, and the reason becomes apparent once the other patrons notice the lack of a certain person who usually sits by the bar during his shifts. Your usual laugh accompanied by teasing grins and playful swats at his long hair when you think no one is looking are nowhere to be seen.

One particularly drunk person had come up to him as he was wiping down the counters and asked why you weren’t there. Anyone who had been there to see the sight would tell you that he didn’t say anything, hadn’t been able to say anything. He just… stood there, hands frozen mid-motion and eyes drawn somewhere, lost in thought.

He slips up sometimes. Asks the maids to prepare a dinner for two only to stop in the middle of talking as he realizes what he just said. At breakfast, he pauses in the middle of reading his daily papers to turn his head to the right, a question on the tip of his tongue that dies when he sees the empty spot you usually occupied. It’s the pitying gazes that follow when he slips up that he hates the most.

He makes your favorite drink sometimes, on the days when he’s on shift and feeling particularly self-destructive. It stays hidden under the bar counter, hoping against hope that you’ll walk through the door and greet him with an upbeat ‘good evening!’ that makes his day all the more better. You never do.

It’s on a bright, sunny morning when he’s out overseeing the delivery of wine to the tavern that he sees you again. His heart soars for all but a second before it comes crashing down, because Diluc Ragnvindr does not deserve nice things.

You’re holding the hand of some nondescript man, grinning and laughing and emitting such a great sense of contentment that he can almost feel it from where he’s standing meters away from you.

You’re happy. It’s been months and he’s still wallowing in old hurts. You’re happy.

Did you ever smile like that when you were with him? He likes to think so, but the realistic, pessimistic thought is that you’re probably better off not being with him. You’re happy. Happier now than you were when you were with him.

Everything he’s ever loved has been hurt directly and indirectly by his hands. He turns away from the sight of you and pretends to be preoccupied with his task. Maybe it’s for the best that you left before it could happen.

KAZUHA

He tries not to take it to heart. He understands why you left, knows it before you even made the decision to leave. And in the aftermath, much like a leaf adrift in the wind, he roams about aimlessly, lost in thought.

Grief is not an emotion he’s unfamiliar with. As he sits by the cliffs overlooking the endless ocean, grief burrows its way to his chest like an old, unwelcome friend. He doesn’t fight it. He’s learned the hard way that fighting it is a losing battle, like picking at a scab, hoping that doing so will make it heal faster, yet only succeeding in worsening the wound.

Kazuha isn’t a stranger to loneliness, of letting the wind kiss his tears away as they dried on his cheeks. He is, however, unfamiliar with this new kind of ache in his chest. And only after much rumination does he conclude what it might be.

The loss of his family, the loss of his heritage, the loss of his friend, and now, the loss of his lover. A master of loss, he could almost call himself. His old friend would certainly find such a title amusing.

He finds himself writing letters to you, even with the knowledge that he’ll never be able to send them to you. It’s the thought that comforts him, the pretense that he still has someone to tell of his travels, someone to simply come home to, even when he knows he isn’t welcome anymore.

In his weakest moment, when he had too much to drink and too little self-restraint, he sends one of the letters to you. He’s forgotten whether it’s the one where he laments the loss of your presence, the one where he begs you to have him back, or the one where only three words are written, a small blot in the ink where a stray tear had fallen.

He waits, and waits, and waits a little more, staying for a whole month in the small village he’d addressed the letter from for the small, improbable event that you may have written back. He learns later on that the letter never made it to your hands. The ship it had been on had lost all its cargo to the sea, including his letter. When he heard the news, he hadn’t known whether to be relieved or lament on what could have been.

It isn’t unpleasant to see you again. Kazuha has had time to let go of his hurt, but still, the image of your nostalgia-inducing eyes leave in him a sense of loss he thought he had already settled. Your mirage smiles, “Kazuha.” Had he been a weaker man, he would have folded and swept you up in his arms.

Nobody asks why his eyes have a slight sheen to it after he forces himself to walk away from you. He stands atop the beach and lets the waves wash over his bare feet, closing his eyes and imagining what could have been had he let himself succumb to the desire of holding you one last time, even if you were merely a mirage from the past.

Truly, the golden apple archipelago is a place where dreams are made into reality.

SCARAMOUCHE

He tries to act above it all, feigning indifference as if the entire thing is just a mild inconvenience to him.

Oh, you’re leaving him? That’s fine, he doesn’t care. Do you know how many people would kill to share his bed? You were tolerable, a way to pass time. Don’t think you were anything special. You, a normal person? Don’t make him laugh. You were nothing more than a pet he kept because you entertained him. It’s good that you’re leaving, actually. It saves him the trouble of having to get rid of you.

He’s… not very kind about it all. Defensive and on guard, hackles raising with every word that comes out of his mouth. He hates every second of it, but he can’t stop because stopping is to admit defeat, it means having to acknowledge that you meant something to him after hundreds of years of loneliness. He let you in his carefully guarded walls, and now—now you’re leaving him? Abandoning him after he bared himself open to you?

You are just like her.

Scaramouche stops before he can say those last words. The red that had been threatening to overcome his vision slowly recedes, leaving a numbing sort of clarity that washes over him like the rising tides of Inazuma’s beaches. His mouth feels dry, throat closing up.

There are tears streaming down your face.

He wishes you’d do something. Hit him, yell at him, curse his name. Anything. Just… anything but this silence that hangs heavy in the air, cloying in it’s thickness and threatening to drown him with words that can never be taken back.

He doesn’t apologize, won’t ever apologize. He is a god, and not even you would make him say those damnable words. He sees the way your eyes dim in understanding as you realize the same thing, and that, perhaps, is why you turn your back to him and walk away.

He wishes he could say that he called out for you, that he grabbed your arm and made you stay, that he just… held you. Instead, he watches you leave him, face blank and a phantom ache resonating in his hollow chest. The silence after you leave feels like the night before his creator abandoned him.

He tells himself it’s fine, that you’ll come back. You always do. This is just one of many arguments that always get resolved after a day or so—except. Except, he doesn’t let himself think of any other possibility. You’ll come back. (You have to.)

The months following your absence is a blur, spikes of irritation mixed with hateful words and barbed insults directed towards anyone who so much as breathed the wrong way. His subordinates are half-contemplating desertion just to escape his wrath. They all wonder where you’ve gone. You’re usually the one who soothes the Balladeer when he’s in one of his moods, like the godsend that you are. Though none of them are brave enough to mention your name after what he did to the foolish recruit who asked of your whereabouts.

Years pass. You never did come back.

He still gets the occasional reports about you and your general wellbeing, still sends out his best soldiers to clear out any monsters who’ve settled near your home. You never find anyone else after him. It brings a strange sense of relief in him when his monthly reports on you end up without a hint of a new lover.

He tries to forget you, but even with a new heart and the ascendance to godhood, there is still a lingering sense of loss and past regrets.

XIAO

He lets you go without argument. He’s used to people leaving him, but this is… different.

The thought of you there, physically within reach yet unable to to cross the distance that separates you from him. It’s a different kind of agony from the ones that have afflicted him for millennia.

He sometimes finds himself standing by the balcony of Wangshu Inn, eyes roaming over the vast landscape of Dihua Marsh, looking for the slightest hint of your silhouette. The sound of footsteps coming up the stairs always attracts his attention, anticipating your signature greeting and the smell of whatever mortal sustenance you’ve deigned to make for him to, as you once put it, let him experience the delicacies that this world has to offer.

You can’t call yourself ‘having lived a long life’ if you haven’t tried all the tasty food, Xiao!

…He misses you, though he will never admit it, perhaps not even to Rex Lapis himself.

His time—which once consisted of you, killing monsters, you again, roaming the lands for the remains of old gods, tasting whatever you cooked for him, and accompanying you so you can get home safely—is now comprised of nothing but endless slaughter. He tells himself it’s not a distraction, but it’s a thinly veiled excuse, weak even to his own ears. How low he has fallen to create such feeble excuses to justify the hurt that spreads from his chest to the tips of his fingers.

He used to pick up small things and trinkets in his time scouring the land for evil. A shiny pebble that reminded him of your eyes, a particularly large sweetflower that you would gape comically at once he showed you, qingxin flowers he plucked from the highest mountains just so he can see the way your face lights up in a smile. He still does all these things, only now, the objects are stored in a realm made in the likeness of your home, placing each one in a shelf or table that he thinks you would have arranged them in.

One time, he panics when he sees the flowers start to wilt, and in the heat of the moment, he placed adeptal power in them to ensure they will never die. To this day, he isn’t sure why he did so, only that he imagined at the time how upset you would be that they died in his care, even though he knows how unlikely it is that you will ever discover his hobby of collecting flowers and storing them in his realm.

Perhaps he hopes you’ll come back to him, so that when you do, he can see the way your eyes brighten up once he shows you everything he got for you while you were away.

It’s unlikely, he knows, but it’s nice to dream of it. He thinks his siblings would be proud to see him finally have a little hope for something.

VENTI

He spends the rest of the week in the tavern drinking as much as he can. For once, Diluc doesn’t try to reproach him for drinking what he can’t pay for.

He doesn’t exactly get drunk—can’t get drunk, more like. To a god like him, drinking a hundred barrels of Mondstadt’s finest wines won’t even be enough to get him tipsy. He is the god of freedom (and wine, he’d like to add), he can outdrink every single one of the archons and still have enough semblance to go to war. And yet…

You appear on the seventh day like a salvation, face contorted in worry when you see him slumped on the counter and one inch away from falling off the stool. It isn’t difficult to act the part of a drunken bard, pretending to sway on his feet and donning a fake intoxicated grin as he asked Charles for another glass.

The wind tells him of your arrival, but he ignores it just as he ignores the way his heart soars when the wind brings him the barest hint of your scent. He wishes you didn’t come here. He wishes he didn’t act so drunkenly. He wishes you were more heartless and ignored whoever must have tattled on him drinking Angel’s Share into bankruptcy.

You call his name. He pretends he’s asleep just so he doesn’t have to face his problems. Ha. How ironic. Will he wake up to Mondstadt destroyed by the remains of Khaenri’ah this time? He nearly did once.

He hears you sigh before he feels you bring his arm across your shoulders. You help him get off the stool, an arm around his waist to help keep him steady. The weight of Diluc’s disapproving gaze for deceiving you about his drunkenness is heavy, but he tells himself it’s alright. He just… wants to be selfish for once. If he has to act drunk to feel your arms around him again, he’ll suffer this humiliation as many times as he can.

“Venti,” you start as you walk him in the direction of your home. “I was worried, you know. Aether told me how much you’d been drinking since…” You trail off. He feels you shaking your head before continuing, “Just… don’t be so reckless with your health.” You laugh, mildly sardonic that’s directed more towards yourself than him. “Ah, what am I saying… you won’t even have any recollection of this tomorrow anyway.”

He wants to say something, but saying something means breaking this moment between you, it means revealing that he doesn’t actually need your help because once he starts speaking, the dam will break and everything will come spilling out. I’m sorry, I miss you, I love you.

The front door to your house opens. He’s gently placed down your couch, a blanket thrown over him as you thoughtfully take his shoes off for him. He feels you linger by his side, can practically hear the conflict in you.

He’s unprepared for the feeling of your warm breath on his skin, your lips hovering over his face before placing a chaste kiss on his forehead. “Goodnight, Venti.”

He leaves before the sun rises.

ZHONGLI

He only smiles, small and understanding with a hint of sorrow at the corner of his eyes.

He tells you he’ll respect your decision, but should you change your mind, he will always be here. You say it’s doubtful, he would’ve probably found someone else by then. Zhongli doesn’t correct you, only leans in and places his lips on the top of your head, as gentle as he’s always been with you, somehow managing to convey with a single gesture how high he holds you in regard.

And for the barest, infinitesimal moment, you half-contemplate the idea of staying. It’s a wishful thought. You end up leaving before you can change your mind.

He’s still as grounded as ever, but there’s a fragility to it, a certain brittleness that threatens to crumble from within him. He is the Lord of Geo, and yet he is so easily undone by you. The pain is temporary, he knows from past losses, but it doesn’t lessen the ache that resonates in his chest.

For the first time in his long life, he curses his golden memory that makes him incapable of forgetting, though that which he curses is also something he is grateful for. He can’t bear having to suffer losing the memories of your time together.

Your relationship is amiable, like that of old, awkward friends you had fallen out of touch with rather than that of old lovers. It’s what you wanted after all, this sense of normalcy. He has become such a vital part of your daily life that you simply couldn’t cut him off of your life entirely.

He doesn’t know which is worse; having to act as a mere friend when he wants nothing more than to wrap you in his arms and never let go, or to have no contact with you at all.

Morax is not one to ask for things, not one to plead his case to anyone. He was a selfish and proud god, a necessity that was shaped from him by the war. To love a mortal enough to leave his throne and fake his death would have been unthinkable. But that is why he is no longer Morax. He is Zhongli.

And Zhongli? He wants you. Desperately. Enough that he is willing to beg should you ask it of him.

His deceased enemies would laugh in mockery at what has become of the fearsome Morax. How low he has fallen—but it is a burden he is willing to bear. He will suffer as many humiliations as it takes to have you back.

The only issue is that you don’t want him anymore. But he is a man who finds gold where others would see stone. If he has to build his way up from friendship all over again, then it is a task he will do so gladly. As many times as it takes for you to want him back.

[vanillasann]

His World, Your World

Pairing: Venti x gn!reader

Genre: Angst <3

Summary: He loves his nation and you just almost as much. For Mondstadt is his world and he'd do everything he could to protect it. Even if it costs his life. So when you have to choose between his death or his nation's, he begs you to choose his. But will you?

TW: Major character death (u), but nothing too graphic. English is not my first language, so I'm sorry if there are many grammar errors! <//3

Note: I've been dying to write something since last, last, last year/? but my lazy ass is stronger than me. This draft has been in here for a year. But oh, well, at least I write something now. I've always loved 'Which would he choose? You or the world?' trope and also inspired by a fanart I saw months ago; Venti hates you because you chose him over Mondstadt, but sadly I forgot their username-.

It's not a secret for anyone to know the fact that Mondstadt is Venti's home. It won't even be an overstatement to say that Mondstadt is his world.

For him loving it oh so much; even greater than he value his own life. For it was what his friends had always been wanted. For it was what his friends had been fight for.

He loves it dearly with all of his heart. He loves the people in it; his people, his children. He loves the freedom his nation has. And for it, he'll do anything he could to protect it. Even if the cost that he must pay is his life.

What to lose? I am but an archon that has long ago left my nation anyway. They'll be just alright without me, he thinks.

There are so many words that could describe Venti. He is a God. An Archon. An immortal being. A cheerful person that is allergic to cats. A drunkard bard. But never even in his mind that he'd ever could be described as a lover.

A lover who loves his partner passionately. A lover who cares so much about his partner's well-being. A lover who will go out of his way to comfort and cheer them whenever the world gets too mean towards them. A lover who vows to his partner that he'll protect them with everything he has.

Venti knows that he's rather friendly with all his acquaintances. Yet he never thought about even the possibility of him falling in love with someone, let alone a mere mortal being, for he is an archon.

At least that's what he thought. Until he met you.

You, who make his heart thump like crazy, feels like knocking hazardly in his chest. You, who make his day a bit more brighter just by getting a thought of your voice calling his name. You, who make him smile like a drunk man even when he hasn't chugged any bottle of Diluc's dandelion wine. And you, who make him addicted of your all.

He tried to shrug it off as his form of interest towards you. Nothing big, just a little crush that will wilt over time, he thought back then. But that little crush was and is still growing wildly every time he spends his day with you. Making a flower garden that he himself can't seem to get rid of, for he has gotten fond of these feelings.

He cherished every moment he has with you, whether it's just strolling around Windrise or visiting Diluc with Kaeya. Whether it's mundane things like joking and making a fool of himself just so he can hear a chorus of your laughter he so adore or a pretty night when he asks you to join him to stargazing in Starsnatch Cliff.

He loves you so much that he even drinks wine less just so he can spend more time with you. He loves you so much that he writes songs about you so that the world knows how amazing you are that even an archon fell head over heels for you.

He loves you and his nation just almost as much; with all of his heart, with everything that he has. That he'd sacrifice anything else if it means he could keep his nation and you safe.

So when you are faced with a big choice that had to be made, he pleads- no. He begs you to choose his doom.

While Venti is a lover who yearns nothing but to spend a lifetime with you, his love, he also is Barbatos, an archon of a nation. He couldn't imagine his life if you'd choose him over his nation, his world.

He begs and cries and sobs to you while clings like you are his lifeline.

Who you are to decline his pleas?

But while you understand his position, you couldn't help but feels like he's selfish. Oh so selfish to sacrifice himself so no one would die. Because while yes, everyone might just be alright, but- what about you?

You who had loved him so much, too much in fact, that you'd choose his life over yours, even over the world, for he was yours. You who had given him everything you had and gave in to his every whim and plea every single day without fail. You, who can't even think about your life without him and his laughter.

And Mondstadt will not last that long without him anyway, you tried to justify yourself in front of a mirror silently. Blank stare at your broken state reflection.

But the flashes of his dying heart and broken scream and tear-stained face of sorrow, because he lost his nation, make your stomach churn and tighten your chest that you can't draw even shallow breath. A realization hit you; He couldn't live without his nation, and vice versa.

That much is what you need to know to make the decision. You clean yourself as much as you can and go to make it.

Underneath the sunset glow and under the tree in windrise you two stare at each other deeply with an empty smiles, trying to pretend everything is alright.

"Are you really sure about this?"

"You promise you're gonna be happy?"

"You promise you're gonna be fine without me?"

He nods at every question you throw at him, even with a trembling smile and tears that threaten to fall, he stands his ground. He answers your questions like he knows what you'll choose after his pleas and begs. Because you'd never say no to him, for you love him too much.

He'd accepted his doom. Anything for his nation to be safe and for you to continue your life, even without him.

But then why?

Why is your form slumping against him in his embrace as if you don't have any strength to even hold it anymore?

Why are you rubbing his back softly and whispering apologies for what you've done?

Why are your breathing and your heart slowly fading away despite him holding you so tight against him?

Why is he screaming your name repeatedly with uncontrollable tears that fall while he tries to shake you awake when it should have been him who won't respond to yours?

Why is he can't do anything despite him being a God, an archon, to bring you back by his side?

Why would you trade your place in his stead as a sacrifice?

Venti doesn't understand.

Or rather, he doesn't want to. For he forgot that he knows a fact.

That while Mondstadt is his world, Venti was yours.

[rainstops]

fading remembrence

4nemo x reader

TW: reader dies (the cause of the death is a little detailed in ventis part), hinting at suicide in kazuhas part

info: for scaramouche, both wanderer and scaramouche is used

summary: you die right in front of the anemo boys, and they cannot seem to accept your death, because with your death it also felt like they lost their own life. you were their light.

a/n: wrote this in the middle of the night, while putting down my switch for two hours. also i will start to write for zelda totk/botw soon!!

whenever xiao ordered almond tofu at any restaurant, it always tasted the same. even when he cooked it himself. it always had the same taste. the tofu being as bland as tofu usually is, and the dish tasting sweet and like almonds. just what you would expect almond tofu to be. nothing more and nothing less.

but when you appeared in his life, xiao found out you liked cooking. and when you found out that almond tofu was his favorite dish, you immediately went out of your way to learn how to make almond tofu. knowing that xiao ate it a lot, you asked him if he could taste it. xiao did what you asked him to. but what he didnt expect was that the almond tofu tasted different. not in a bad way, but whenever you cooked it, it tasted like you had put your emotions onto a plate. like a little piece of joy, you served xiao. it was the first time, xiao could for sure say that he enjoyed something. but the word 'enjoy' did not feel like it was enough to describe the way he felt. he loved the dish, he loved how skilled you were at cooking it, but most of all, he loved you. and you loved him too. you loved him as long as you could. you loved him, before the passing of time took your life. xiao loved you a lot longer than just that. he loved everything about you. he loved the way you would smile at him, because you gave him a different smile you gave your friends, your family or strangers. when his immortality kept him right where he was, he realized how frozen in time he felt. for you everything moved on so quickly, and soon it was over. xiaos days remained the same old and blank routine before you showed up, and it returned to being the same when you left. but after your death, everything seemed to be so heavy. his eyelids, his arms, his legs, his head, but especially his heart. he searched all across teyvat, for a person, a restaurant or anyone, who could cook almond tofu the exacty way you did. he wanted to taste it again, even if it was just once more. he despaired when he couldnt find a way to make his favorite dish taste the way you made it taste, but his whole world crumbled only then, when he realized he couldnt remember how it tasted. he stopped counting the days and the nights he spend living, because why would it matter if he was slowly forgetting you?

he used to do it, so he could remember your birthday, or your anniversary, or any day that was special to you. but now you were gone, and xiaos memories were leaving as well.

☂

venti wrote many songs in his life. many of them telling stories, but just as many of them just there to sound pretty. but then when you showed up, he had someone to write songs for. he wrote them about you, and for you. and you sang the songs together. venti loved your voice. your voice was the best part of his songs. to him, it sounded like an angels voice.

not only your singing voice, but your voice in general. it made his heart beat so fast, it nearly sprang out of his chest. whenever you greeted him with a smile on your face, it was like all his worries and problems disappeared into thin air.

maybe he took it for granted. maybe he expected to be able to wake up everyday and sing in the kitchen with you while preparing breakfast together. maybe he just thought you could sing him to sleep every night.

well it so happened that that was not the case.

a member of the fatui took your life, and your angelic voice right with it. venti was there. venti was there, when the knife of the fatui found your back. the next moments were a mere blur to venti. he remembers getting rid of the fatui, and in the following moments, he held you in his arms, pleading to be able to hear your voice again.

he mumbled something along the lines of healing you, but you told him that it was too late. it was you who spoke those words, with the voice he loved so much. you lifted a hand to his cheek, and said the three words he loved hearing from you so much. a tear left his eye and fell right under your eye, on your cheek, making it look like it was a tear of your own. he held you in his arms tightly, like it could prevent you from leaving the world.

that was when you spoke your last words. 'thank you' they were. thank you? what were you thanking him for?

your eyes closed, and the smile you had on your face the last moments before your death left. your hand slowly sank from his face, and he held your hand. your hands were usually cold, but this time it bothered him. this time it felt like it was only pointing towards your death.

☂

the wanderer never held much appreciation for the people around him. that was until you came around. it was like you could see right through him, and his facade. like you could see the way he crumbled on the inside, not knowing how to handle his own emotions.

he loved the way you held his hand. your warm hand felt very relaxing against his usual cold one. often you would play with them as well. whenever he was having an especially hard day, because some people kept annoying him, you'd sit down with him. his head in your lap while you were massaging one of his hands. you'd listen carefully as he talks about the people that would annoy him throughout the day. at the end, you would give him a kiss on the forehead. although often enough he'd already been asleep by then.

but you seemed to know him better than he knew himself. you knew what he needed and when he needed it. whenever he was about to explode from anger, you hugged him, since you seem to very well know, that all the anger is build up from all the things that happened to him.

a tear fell as you held scaramouche close to you. one hand around his body, and the other on the back of his head, as his head was resting on your shoulder. the tears were wetting your shoulder but you didnt mind. you would do anything to make scaramouche happy again.

another tear fell, another one, and another one. but this time it was the day you died.

with widened eyes you dropped to the floor on your knees, scaramouche caught you before you could drop to the floor. a singular tear fell from your eye as well.

scaramouche held your body tightly against his, as if you would disappear if he would let go. in this scenario, this was the case, but no matter how close he'd hold you, there was nothing he could do.

he held you the way you did it, everytime he was upset. with an arm around your body, and a hand on the back of your head, while your head was laying against his shoulder.

'i cant breathe scaramouche. im scared'

were the last words you spoke, before your eyes slowly closed.

scaramouche had never cried that much in his life. not when he was betrayed so often, not when his mother threw him out like he was nothing, and not whenever you would comfort him.

scaramouches chest filled with regret. he wishes he would have been there for you at least as much as he was there for you. he wishes he bought you more presents for even just putting up with him. he wishes he wouldve just gotten over his ego and thanked you. he would do all those things and so much more, just so he could repay you.

☂

you remember the day so cleary, when kazuha confessed his love to you. his usually so casual demeanor was all gone, as his hands were shaking while holding a piece of paper. his face was bright red and his voice was shaking and cracking up, as he recited his self written poem for you. when he was done he wished for the earth to open up and swallow him whole.

when you started giggling he thought you were laughing at him. he didnt dare to look up at you, his gaze was only burning holes into the floor.

but when he really tensed up was when you jumped at him and threw your arms over his shoulders.

ever since then, kazuha had written so many poems for you, and you had stored them all very carefully. one after another.

one time for his birthday, you tried writing him one, and although it wasnt the best, he treasured it like nothing else.

but also he treasured you.

for your one year anniversary you gifted him an old gramophone. you werent sure if he was really going to like it, but he adored it.

ever since that day, most evenings were spend dancing to music, time passing so much faster than it seemed. your hands were locked and one of kazuhas hands was resting on your waist. one of his hands went through your hair.

on the first day you danced with him, he realized how much he needed you. you were his light, his hope, his everything. its why he calls you 'his star'

unfortunately, every star dies one day.

if you would ask him, his star died way to early.

on the night your light faded, a shooting star crossed the sky. kazuha knows youre only supposed to make one wish, but all of them crossed his mind at once. he wished he could dance with you again, he wish his fingers could make his way through your soft hair once more, he wished he could gift you more poems he wrote, and watch your eyes light up like the night sky does when the stars start glowing.

his breath hitched when he felt your hand touch his cheek once more. you gave him a last smile, and a tear rolled down your cheek. your hand fell from his cheek, but kazuha caught it mid air, and he held it to his chest.

later, a poem could be found on your grave.

in a moment of sorrow, please let me borrow, your healing light once more, before i am found at our seashore.

it was the last poem he ever wrote.

[kazumist]

SMALL SPOON OR BIG SPOON .ᐟ

✩ — are they a small spoon or a big spoon in your relationship?

✩ — includes: various x gn!reader. fluff. no cws. wc: 994. lmk if you want a version that includes more inazuma and sumeru characters! reblogs and feedback are very much appreciated :]

small spoons — !

xiao, scaramouche, and venti

xiao has been through a lot, he never really considered indulging himself in these types of things. he thought he didn’t deserve it, but he covered that up by stating that there should be a fine line between the mortal and the immortal. but when he felt you hug him, xiao was comforted. he slowly became desperate for the familiar feeling of warmth that he felt from you. the second you pulled away from the sudden hug you gave him, he was hesitant. he wanted to feel it again but is he allowed too? does it make you uncomfortable if he leans in for another hug? his thoughts were a mess. and you noticed it, you noticed his hesitancy and gave him another hug—a longer one at that. he didn’t know why but xiao felt safe after years of despair.

venti is cheeky, mischievous even. you never know where he gets the endless amount of energy he has on a daily basis—a smile here, a smile there, he smiles all the time. which made you wonder: has or does the ever so popular bard of mondstadt have times where he breaks? well, you didn’t know if you actually have an answer to that so we might as well never know. even though you never expected to find out the reason for that soon. everyone gets tired in the end—including venti. give him a comforting hug during those times and the pace of the wind will surely be better.

scaramouche seemed like a big spoon at first but in truth he's the one who loves to be cuddled. not many individuals favor scaramouche, most dislike him due to his attitude —but for some reason, you didn't. you never cared about others opinions. despite working in the fatui, scaramouche had always thought that you were too… bright for the job. under the ruling of the beloved tsaritsa, the fatui is dark and cold. yet you're bright and warm, the differences are too big to ignore. but it doesn't matter—even though scaramouche is disliked by his co-workers in the fatui, he knows that you're someone who'll believe that there's honestly more to him as an individual.

big spoons — !

zhongli, kaeya, and dainsleif

zhongli likes to hug you especially when you're tired (and it comes with a free back massage so who’s gonna back down on that?). he tries his best to make you happy—to enjoy yourself with him. he adapted to many eras of humanity so there’s still some parts he’s kinda rusty in. who knows how long has it been ever since he had a lover, did he even had a lover back then though? it doesn’t really matter. zhongli likes being the big spoon in your relationship and that’s that.

for some random reason, kaeya really likes to drown you in hugs. no matter where you are, you get all sorts of hugs. sidehugs if you’re walking in public, back hugs if you’re in your own quarters and many more. you never really thought of why kaeya likes hugs so much. maybe it’s because it feels nice? not that you minded though, kaeya’s hugs are fun to drown in.

dainsleif isn’t that used to hugs (or cuddling in any sense) so he was rather stiff about it at first. but once dainsleif got used to it, he prefers to be the one who’s hugging you from behind with his arms wrapped around your waist. he feels consoled by it, who knows what runs on his mind at all times every day? everything and everyone has their boundaries that they cannot seem to reach—some try to reach past it with some being successful while some would fail. it’s just how life is, an endless cycle. but in that cycle, dainsleif doesn’t mind for your precious moment to repeat.

in-between — !

diluc, childe, albedo and kazuha

similar to dainsleif, diluc was also a bit stiff at first. but whenever diluc is exhausted, he tends to be the small spoon for you but there’s times when he’s also the big spoon. it’s either to be held or to hold for him, and you couldn’t really guess if he wants to be the one who’s cuddled up. that’s okay though—as long as diluc is comfortable, you don’t necessarily mind.

childe is too in-between because he cuddles his siblings if they ask him and he likes to get cuddled by you. it reminds him of the nostalgic feeling of warmth of being held by someone. he wants to feel the exact same warmth once again to the point he’s drunk from it but that doesn’t mean he’s completely a small spoon—he likes being the big spoon at times too. it’s a mix, really. once you see that small pout on his lips, it’s best to assume he wants to be the small spoon. but when he greets you arms wide open, prepare to be the small spoon instead.

albedo is sometimes complicated to understand. you never know if he wants to be cuddled or what—but in the end you cuddle him anyways. he deserves it, after spending hours of working on lab results, experiments and other studies? who wouldn’t get exhausted by all of it. however, albedo isn’t always the small spoon. even though he’s so tired from all the work he’s done, there are times he prefers to hold you instead of being held.

kazuha is usually the big spoon whenever the two of you are together. but if he just recently returned after months of sailing? small spoon all the way! he wants to regain his energy by being with you so cuddling is his best option. because he’ll be able to rest and spend time with you—nothing too complex to understand, no? whenever kazuha is the big spoon though, he won’t let go of you easily if you try to get up. you’re practically stuck but that’s okay.

[heyheydidjaknow]

Hi, I absolutely love your portrayal of yandere venti! I was wondering if he's considered starting a family with the reader.

In 'Good Wine' he answered maybe later to the reader saying fuck you and in 'Incomprehensible' he said how he's trying not to force himself onto her, unless this one has a different meaning, English isn't my first language.

If so, does he understand the consequences of these actions? Old Mondstadt doesn't seem like a good environment to raise a kid, not to mention the lack of social interaction.

I am going to preface this by saying that I have no idea what the fuck the deal is with fertility in the genshin universe. I don’t know if the Biological Species concept applies to wind spirits turned archons turned human x another human. I don’t know if Venti would even be physically compatible with a human or if his windspiritness would make that impossible. I certainly don’t know what the kids would look like. If there is a lore answer and someone knows how that would go down or if there are lore examples of that happening please contact me because I asked my lore friend and they couldn’t tell me.

Also I will neither confirm nor deny that the phrasing in Inconceivable was meant to be taken that way. There is an answer but also feel free to take what you want out of my writing.

If you are not physically compatible with Venti he is not going to steal a child. That child would probably be mortal and that would be a bad deal. He’s already said “fuck it” to his morals enough to kidnap a partner; he’s not going to kidnap some mother’s baby.

If the baby would be mortal, also a no-go. Best case scenario he raises some poor kid in a cave their entire life because he’s paranoid about them getting hurt. Worst case scenario he leaves the kid and you alone and they suicide pact or, worse, you end up killing the kid to keep them away from him. Also a bad deal.

If the kid was immortal, then yes. He could be content with his child murdering him and be generally okay with them going out on their own to find their own path in life. At least then he would have someone to share your memory with.

If he didn’t know and would need to fuck around to find out, then he wouldn’t. The anxiety of the above scenarios would be enough of a deterrent to completely throw out the possibility unless you were incredibly persistent and insistent about it or if in a moment of passion he completely forgot.

Regardless, if the two of you were to have a child that would be a thing that happens long after you’ve given in to him. It’s not that he doesn’t want a family but the variables involved induce in him enough anxiety that it wouldn’t be something he’s pushy about.

[ninasmovingcastle]

Can I request Venti reuniting with s/o he hasn’t seen in years?

your wish is my command anon !!

forevermore - venti

venti x gender neutral!god!reader

word count: 526

in which you reunite with your beloved after being assumed dead following the archon war

content warnings: alcohol

↳ god!reader disappeared after the archon war and hasn't been heard from since.

↳ as a last resort during a battle in the war, you used up most of your divine energy to protect yourself, taking on the form of a mortal.

no matter how much time had passed, barbatos could not go one day without thinking of you. he refused to move on and simply assume you were dead.

he knew he had responsibilities to attend to in his city, but he would have traveled all across the universe to rediscover any trace of you.

and you felt exactly the same, though you were no longer strong enough to reach every corner of teyvat. you devoted your mortal-like life to roaming far and wide. anything to reach him again.

your immortal spirit confined to a commoner's body wandered every street of teyvat for centuries, waiting to be reunited with your dear barbatos. your travels had taken you from the icy wastelands of snezhnaya to the thriving forests of sumeru; to the depths of enkanomiya and the furthest edges of the abyss.

no number of fruitless adventures would interrupt your motivation, however. you were always completely devoted to finding barbatos, to let him know you never gave up on him.

your journeys led you to mondstadt, the idyllic city of freedom. throughout teyvat, the region was known as one of romance and bliss. what better place to find your lover than here?

the locals treated you like any other tourist. you were invited to a tavern by a welcoming monstadter, which you did not decline. you sat around a small table outside the bar while your newfound acquaintance ordered for you.

a thousand years' worth of memories flashed through your mind as you heard it, barbatos' tune once again. it must be a dream, or perhaps your drink was a little too strong. behind you was a young-looking bard, serenading tavern patrons.

locking eyes with the one you instinctively knew was yours was a feeling too intense, even for the immortal. he realized it was you, too, immediately setting down his lyre to approach you and pull you away from the table.

"i knew you were alive," he says, his eyes dancing with joy. "call me venti."

you spend the night with him exploring mondstadt, taking shelter beneath a great tree he claims is a historic landmark.

"what's so special about this tree?" you ask. not that you particularly care about the tree, but you're simply so infatuated with your lover that you'd ask an eternity of stupid questions just to hear his voice.

"oh, it's a long story," he laughs, leaning against the trunk.

he reaches for your hand and holds it gently. to feel his skin on yours, to feel his pulse and his warmth, it tethers you to him.

"we have time," you smile, resting your head on his shoulder, exactly as you did eons ago.

[stcrfeesh]

hii!!

can i request venti angst headcanons of him dealing with the death of his lover? sorry if this vague i was just wondering how he'd act after losing another person in his long life and how the ppl around him notice the shift in hos behavior

love ya(⁠｡⁠•̀⁠ᴗ⁠-⁠)⁠✧

my dearest cecilia

Venti x Reader 

headcanon request from anon!

wc. 880

cw. death

When he loses you.

Death was a memory to the god of wind and freedom. He was prepared for its coming, his immortal heart encased in steel armour. What he was never prepared for was you becoming a memory to him too.

Venti was no stranger to loss. A millennia-old god who has seen people—both people in passing, and those he held close—come and go would grow accustomed to such tragic events. It was the mortal cycle of life; that much, he had accepted.

He has seen death as though it were his friend that greeted him on a quiet afternoon—he was used to it, but that never meant it hurt any less.

He was a weak god, he has told you one too many times. He'd sworn to go to the ends of the world to protect you, but he knows that there would come a day when he'd be a few seconds too late—a reaction too late to keep his promise. 

And thus, there you were, in the midst of fire and smoke. In the city he loved so much, and right before his very eyes, Venti watched you fall. 

He saw the way you staggered back, a longsword pierced through you. He saw the way your eyes glazed over before attempting to push the lector away. 

He remembered screaming your name that night. He remembered holding you as you looked up to comfort him in bated breath. He remembers everything vividly. A memory imprinted in his mind. 

Venti was accustomed to the death of people he loved and cherished. That was what he kept telling himself during your wake. He dared not to look around the room, but he knew there were only a handful of people who came to see you off. 

He remembers the numbness that came to wash over him as he watched what remained of you turn to ashes. He remembers wanting to cry when your parent cried, holding onto your urn. Your urn—he never thought he’ll have to think that so soon.

Now, here Venti was. Standing on Starsnatch Cliff, thinking about you. 

He thinks about your smile, your heart, your everything. He thinks about all the promises he’s ever made, and everything hurts all over again. 

Had he been a little faster, a little more attentive, would you be here with him right now? Would he be able to have the honour of watching the wind blow through your hair as the both of you stood by the mountains?

Oh, how much he’d give to see you grinning up at him, cecilias in hand. To hear you tell him that this was not his fault… was this truly not his fault?

Death was no stranger to him, and Venti could not help but wonder if he was the herald. Did death despise him so much that it will only take from him all that he comes to love?

Venti mourns you, but not in the way he wishes you could have avoided being at the wrong place at the wrong time. He mourns you, in a way that he wishes he could have saved you—where he wishes he could have reached you before everything began. 

Venti mourns you and blames himself—and he tries not to. You’d be upset, you had told him. You’d be upset if he blamed himself again for things he cannot control.

You are a god, he remembers you telling him softly, your head leaning against his shoulder. But that does not mean you are not allowed to make mistakes. Gods can make mistakes too, you know?

The gods of Teyvat were allowed to make mistakes. That was the solace he desperately holds on to now that you were gone… but time and again, he’ll think about you. He will have his heart ache again and again, but he knew—because you had promised—that one day, he’ll think of you and only be reminded of the gentle breeze and the softness of cecilia flowers.

The first to notice his drastic change in behaviour was, of course, the master of the Dawn Winery—Diluc. He had noticed Venti’s lessened alcohol consumption. 

Venti clearly remembers what he had answered Diluc, I do not want to forget. 

Whether he wanted to remember you at all times (he did), or he wanted to remind himself that he was just as guilty as the culprit who took you away from him (he did too), that was something his subconscious mind could answer.

Diluc didn’t ask again after. If anything, Diluc might’ve understood grief as much as the god of freedom did. After all, he too, had lost a loved one.

Losing you did not hurt any less after everyone he has lost before. On the contrary, it hurt more than he could possibly imagine. 

But because it hurt more, that did not mean he would no longer be able to heal.

You were his dearest, one he loved more than he could ever love any vintage and fine wine. Just because it had hurt—and terribly so, does not mean he will think of you as a memory that only haunts him.

He’d heal one day, just like you had told him before your eyes fluttered close. 

But for now… Venti will mourn, like all the times he did before.

I'm so so sorry this took a little longer than expected! I suddenly got so swamped with work ueueue. But here it is now! It's my first time writing HCs, so any feedback would be appreciated!

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© stcrfeesh 2020-2023 — reposts, translations, and any other form of reproduction of my work is prohibited.

[mikashisus]

Clipped Wings Chapterlist

pairing: venti x fem!reader

summary: He was like the fresh breeze on a warm summer day, brushing over your skin with the most delicate of touches.

He knew just the right words to say and how to say them, and lies slipped from his lips easier than wine slid down his throat.

wc: 15.1k

chapter 1: sowing the seeds of hope

chapter 2: remnants of melodies

chapter 3: troubled midnights

chapter 4: a heart is a heavy burden

chapter 5: the poet and the king

chapter 6: choice breeds consequence

chapter 7: you got the world at your feet and your heart on your sleeve

chapter 8: some fates cannot be altered

chapter 9: seeds of stories, brought by the wind and cultivated by time

chapter 10: of ballads and brews, and a bard and his muse

chapter 11: read between the lines

chapter 12: sole salvation of a fallen nation

chapter 13: memories of a bygone era

chapter 14: meet me again in your wildest dreams

chapter 15: you will reap what you sow

chapter 16: curiosity killed the cat

chapter 17: i wanted to breathe life into you by my own hand

chapter 18: the thousand winds of time

chapter 19: the price of immortality

chapter 20: there is no curse more twisted than love