for my birthday (august 8th) can you please write march 7th x boothill x sampo? it's a rarepair i thought of and ship and it would mean the world to me if you wrote something! maybe like, a domestic night with them? please post this on my birthday :D
Drifters in the Stars
Summary: In the quiet of their shared ship, Boothill, March 7th, and Sampo share a rare, peaceful evening together. As they tease and banter, the truth of their bond becomes undeniable—they may not be the "settling down" type, but they've found a home in each other.
Tags: Sampo x March 7th x Boothill, Rarepair, Domestic Fluff, Found Family, Lighthearted Banter, Slow Burn Feelings, Polyamory.
A/N: HAPPY BIRTHDAY!! 💖🙏 HOPE YOU ENJOY THIS <3
The stars stretched endlessly beyond the window of their shared hideout, a small yet cozy ship drifting through the cosmos. March 7th sat cross-legged on the couch, flipping through the latest batch of photos she had taken, humming softly as she adjusted the brightness on one of them. Boothill leaned against the far wall, one leg propped up, absentmindedly turning a bullet between his fingers, while Sampo sprawled lazily on the opposite end of the couch, arms stretched behind his head.
"You ever think about settling down?" March mused, tilting her head at the photo of the three of them from their last mission. They looked—well, exhausted, but happy. It was rare to capture moments like that between the chaos.
Boothill snorted, his shark-like teeth flashing in amusement. "Sugar, I ain't exactly the settlin’ type." His voice, as always, carried that slow drawl, but there was a warmth to it that betrayed his affection.
"You do spend an awful lot of time here for someone who ain't the 'settlin’ type'," Sampo quipped, flashing Boothill a teasing smirk. "C'mon, admit it—you like being here with us."
Boothill gave him a sidelong glance but said nothing, just rolling the bullet between his fingers before tucking it back into his belt. March giggled, setting her camera aside and stretching her arms over her head.
"If we’re talking about who likes it here the most, it’s you, Sampo," she pointed out. "You could be out there, scamming your way through the galaxy, but you’re here instead."
Sampo gasped, clutching his chest dramatically. "March, you wound me! I am but a humble merchant simply enjoying the fine company of two incredibly dangerous, attractive individuals." He gave Boothill a wink, which earned him an exasperated shake of the head.
Boothill walked over and nudged Sampo’s legs off the couch to make space for himself, plopping down with a heavy sigh. "Y’all just ain’t worth the trouble of leavin’." It was his way of saying he liked being here too.
March grinned at that and leaned into Boothill’s side, earning a grumble but no protest. "I knew it," she teased before looking at Sampo expectantly. "So, what’s the plan for tonight? We finally taking that break or are we getting dragged into more of Sampo’s questionable dealings?"
Sampo, reclining like a prince with a mischievous glint in his eye, chuckled. "Why not both? A little relaxation, a little high-stakes adventure. Keeps things interesting."
Boothill shook his head. "Y’all are gonna be the death of me."
March giggled, pulling the both of them closer. "Nah, we’re gonna be the reason you keep going."
Can I request a Jing yuan with an injured s/o, like a broken foot or arm or something and like how he would help them out and do things for them. I’ve been thinking of that bc I lowkey fractured my foot snd sprained my ankle and times have been tough with crutches and a cast💔💔😔
In the Arms of the General
Summary: After suffering an injury that leaves you struggling with crutches and a cast, you try to push through on your own. However, Jing Yuan refuses to let you bear the burden alone. With his usual lazy charm and surprising tenderness, he insists on taking care of you—whether you like it or not.
Tags: Jing Yuan x Reader, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Established Relationship, Injured Reader, Protective, Soft Jing Yuan, Domestic Bliss, Lighthearted Banter.
A/N: I hope you get well soon! 😭🙏
Pain was an unwelcome companion, yet it clung to you like a stubborn shadow. The simple act of moving had turned into an ordeal, each step sending a dull ache up your leg. Your foot—swollen, wrapped tightly in bandages, encased in a cast—was a reminder of the unfortunate misstep that had led you here.
Jing Yuan, ever the observant general, had noticed immediately when you tried to hide your discomfort. You had insisted it was fine, that you could manage, but the weight of his golden gaze told you he wasn’t convinced.
"Must you be so stubborn?" he sighed, arms crossed as he watched you struggle with your crutches. His voice held that familiar lazy drawl, but his eyes—sharp as ever—betrayed his concern.
"I'm not stubborn," you muttered, trying to maneuver onto the couch without making it seem like a battle against gravity. "I just don't want to be a burden."
Jing Yuan chuckled, a low, warm sound. "A burden? My dear, if anything, this is an opportunity."
You blinked. "An opportunity for what?"
He leaned closer, a teasing glint in his eyes. "For me to finally make myself useful to you. You do so much on your own—it’s about time you let someone else take care of you."
Before you could protest, he had already scooped you up effortlessly, cradling you in his arms as if you weighed nothing. Heat crept up your neck. "Jing Yuan—!"
He only hummed in amusement, settling you onto the couch with utmost care. "See? Much easier this way."
You huffed, but the warmth of his touch lingered. His hands, though strong and calloused from years of battle, were incredibly gentle as they adjusted the pillows behind you. The moment you tried to reach for the blanket, he tsked softly and draped it over you himself, making sure you were comfortably tucked in.
"I can—"
"Ah, ah, no arguing," he chided, pressing a single finger to your forehead. "Doctors' orders. And mine."
You sighed in defeat, though you couldn’t hide the fond smile tugging at your lips. "You're really going to fuss over me this much?"
"Absolutely." He knelt beside you, eyes unwavering as he took your injured foot into his hands, adjusting the bandages with practiced ease. "You think I would allow my most precious person to suffer alone?"
Your breath hitched slightly at his words, and he noticed—of course he did. He always noticed.
Jing Yuan chuckled again, softer this time, his fingers brushing over your ankle with care. "Rest, little sparrow. I'll handle everything. Meals, paperwork, anything you need—just leave it to me."
You arched a brow. "Even your own work?"
His expression turned downright mischievous. "Well, I never said I'd be efficient at it."
You laughed despite yourself, the pain momentarily forgotten. Maybe being injured wasn’t entirely terrible—not when it meant being doted on by Jing Yuan.
Maybe, just maybe, you’d let yourself rely on him a little longer.
Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Sunday x Reader, Dan Heng x Reader, The Herta x Reader, Angst to Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Emotional Vulnerability, Soft Moments, Character Growth, Lighthearted Banter, Introspection.
Warnings: Emotional distress, Mild self-blame/guilt, Past Trauma trauma mentions, Sentimental item breakage, Comfort and reconciliation.
Tagline: @themiddletenmasibling, @k1revs
You hadn’t meant to, of course. It was a simple mistake—a slip of the hand, a sudden movement—and there it was: his cherished lucky gambling chip, cracked down the middle. Aventurine had kept it with him for years, a token from his earliest days of navigating the ruthless world of high-stakes games. His connection to it was more than sentimental; it symbolized his skill, his luck, and, for him, his survival.
The moment the chip broke in your hand, a weight seemed to settle in the air between you, something heavy, unspoken, and deeply personal. His eyes shifted from you to the broken piece in your hand, a moment of silence stretching long.
"Do you realize... what this meant to me?" His voice wasn’t cold, but it was edged with something you couldn’t quite place—concern, frustration, maybe fear?
You stammered an apology, feeling your heart race, but his gaze softened when he saw your genuine distress. He took the broken half from you gently, his thumb brushing over the fractured edge as if contemplating it for a moment.
"Don’t worry," he said after a long pause, his usual smile returning, though it was a little more strained than usual. "I suppose it was due for a little risk, wasn’t it? Perhaps it’s time for a new gamble anyway."
You felt a flicker of relief, but the sight of his once-untouched token made you feel small in the face of his quiet forgiveness. Still, Aventurine chuckled lightly, reaching into his coat to retrieve a small pouch.
"Let’s consider it a lesson in trust, hmm?" he continued, his usual playful demeanor returning as he let the two halves of the broken chip fall into the pouch. "Next time, don’t break something that important... but I’ll let it slide this time."
And with that, he pulled you close, his arm wrapping around your shoulders, the weight of the gamble turning into something warmer.
"You’re the most valuable risk I’ve ever taken."
You didn’t realize it at first, but when the small dreamcatcher, a gift from Sunday, slipped from your fingers and shattered onto the ground, you saw his face fall. It wasn’t just a piece of jewelry; it was symbolic of the dreams he’d once had, and the hope he tried to hold on to. You could feel the air around you thicken with the weight of the moment.
Sunday stepped forward slowly, his usual composed demeanor faltering for a brief moment. His eyes softened in a way that made your heart ache.
"I... I didn’t mean for it to break," you whispered, unsure if it was the fragile item or his feelings you’d truly hurt.
Sunday bent down, carefully collecting the shattered pieces, his fingers brushing over the remnants with a soft reverence that struck you. His wings fluttered behind him as he straightened, his calm demeanor slowly taking hold once more.
"Don’t fret," he murmured, his voice gentle but tinged with an almost wistful note. "I suppose it’s fitting... that it broke. Dreams are fragile things, aren’t they?"
You reached out to help him, but he stopped you with a subtle gesture.
"I was once obsessed with protecting others from pain, believing that peace could only be found in perfect harmony," he continued, the vulnerability in his voice surprising you. "But I’ve learned... there’s beauty in the broken parts, too."
Sunday offered you a small smile, his eyes meeting yours with a softness that was reserved only for moments like this.
"If anything," he added quietly, his smile growing, "I’m just glad you’re here. Broken dreams can still become something new."
It was a rare moment of peace, just the two of you. Dan Heng had always been quiet, distant even, yet you felt comfortable in the silence between you—until your accidental knock sent his prized possession, an artifact from his homeworld, tumbling off the table. It cracked upon impact, a small yet irreplaceable token of his past.
You froze. Dan Heng didn’t look at you right away, his expression unreadable. His hand reached for the shattered item with a slow deliberateness that made you feel the gravity of your mistake.
"Dan Heng, I... I’m so sorry," you stammered, your heart pounding.
He didn’t respond at first. His fingers brushed over the broken fragments, his gaze downcast, before finally lifting to meet yours. His eyes weren’t angry, but there was an undeniable coldness, something guarded, as though this loss dredged up more than the physical object.
"It’s fine," he said, his voice calm but distant, like the weight of the world rested on his shoulders. "It’s just a thing, after all."
But you knew better. You could see the tension in his posture, the tightness around his eyes, and you realized that for Dan Heng, it was never just a thing—it was a part of the past he could never truly escape.
Reaching out, you gently touched his hand, offering a quiet comfort. Dan Heng stiffened for a moment, but then, to your surprise, he relaxed. His hand closed over yours, the smallest trace of warmth returning to his eyes.
"It’s not about the object," he said softly, his voice almost a whisper. "It’s about everything it represents…"
His fingers gently traced over the pieces of the artifact as he carefully rebuilt it in his own way, his usual composed demeanor returning.
"But," he added, his voice shifting to something softer, "as long as you’re with me, the past... it doesn’t matter so much anymore."
It was a mistake you’d never live down. The shard of the Simulated Universe—her greatest achievement—lay shattered before you, fragments scattered across the cold floor. The moment it slipped from your fingers, the world around you seemed to freeze.
Herta, who had always been so detached from the world, finally looked up from her research with an unreadable expression. You had never seen her look quite so... shaken. Her eyes narrowed as she scanned the damage, but there was no immediate anger—just a strange kind of amusement.
"Well," she said with a wry smile, though the hint of a frown crept up on her lips. "I suppose I can’t say I didn’t see this coming. It’s always something, isn’t it?"
You opened your mouth to apologize, but she raised a finger to silence you.
"No need," Herta said breezily, her usual playful tone returning. "What’s a little broken shard in the grand scheme of the universe? It’s not like we’re unraveling space and time here."
Despite her words, she moved quickly to pick up the pieces, her hands moving in a fluid, practiced motion. She gave you a fleeting glance as she worked, her gaze softer than you expected.
"You know," she mused, eyes glinting with a mischievous spark, "if you’d been paying attention, you could have avoided this. But... I suppose that’s the fun of discovery, isn’t it? The mistakes are just as enlightening as the successes."
As the pieces began to recombine in her hands, the air around you seemed to shift. A small, unspoken understanding passed between you.
"Next time, though," she added with a sly grin, "try not to break anything important. Or at least... not my pride."
And just like that, you found yourself smiling in relief, the tension lifting as she casually rebuilt the artifact, her voice resuming its playful mockery.
"I suppose you're lucky I’m so forgiving," she added, her tone teasing, but with just a hint of something more.
"Just don’t make a habit of it," she said, her hand brushing yours briefly in a gesture that, for a fleeting moment, seemed almost... tender.
What about Jiaoqiu taking care of reader while they have period cramps and too picky even for sly fox ( ˘ ³˘)♥
A Remedy for the Heart
Summary: Jiaoqiu tends to you during a particularly painful period. Despite your picky and dramatic requests for comfort, Jiaoqiu's compassionate nature shines through as he carefully brews a remedy to alleviate the pain. Teasing and light-hearted banter ensue as Jiaoqiu's gentle care and unwavering patience help soothe both body and soul, proving that even a sly fox has the capacity to heal with warmth and tenderness.
Tags: Jiaoqiu x Reader, Comfort, Fluff, Period Cramps, Healing, Teasing, Lighthearted Banter, Emotional Care.
You curl into yourself, groaning as another wave of pain rolls through your abdomen. The blankets are a tangled mess around you, yet no amount of shifting brings comfort. Jiaoqiu, ever perceptive despite the darkness behind his closed eyes, sits beside you, tilting his head slightly at the sound.
"You sound like you're dying," he muses, his voice smooth with the barest hint of amusement.
"I am dying," you grumble, pulling the covers over your face.
His chuckle is light, but there's a warmth to it. "If you were, I doubt you'd be speaking so dramatically." He taps his feather fan against his palm in thought before setting it aside. "Let me help."
You peek out from under the covers, skeptical. "You say that, but I don't think even the great Jiaoqiu has a cure for this kind of pain."
He hums, reaching for the small lacquered box he brought with him. "Perhaps not a cure, but alleviation? That, I can do." His hands move with practiced grace as he opens the box, revealing compartments filled with dried herbs, powders, and small vials of tinctures. "A delicate matter, this. Most medicine tastes dreadful, and yet you are more particular than even the most spoiled noble." His ears twitch in mock exasperation.
"Excuse me for having taste buds," you retort, crossing your arms.
His lips curve into a smile. "Oh? Then tell me, what will you eat?"
You press your lips together, knowing full well that any answer will only fuel his mischief. Still, the sharp cramps make you desperate. "Something warm. Sweet, but not too sweet. No bitter herbs. Nothing grainy. And—"
"—And the moon must align perfectly with the stars, lest the dish be unacceptable." Jiaoqiu finishes for you with a knowing smirk. "Truly, a near-impossible task."
You glare at him, but the way his ears flick when he’s teasing makes it impossible to be mad. "If it’s so impossible, then I suppose you can’t help me after all."
"Now, now, don’t be so quick to dismiss me," he chides, deft fingers picking through his ingredients. "A sly fox always finds a way."
His hands move with careful precision, though his eyes remain closed. You watch as he selects a blend of dried jujube, goji berries, and a pinch of something else, placing them into a small cauldron beside him. Soon, the air fills with the faintly sweet scent of simmering herbs.
The minutes pass in companionable silence, the only sounds being the occasional bubbling of the brew and the rhythmic flick of his tail. You find your tension easing just from the presence of him.
Eventually, he lifts the ladle, bringing it close to his lips to test the temperature. Satisfied, he turns in your direction. "Come closer."
You hesitate, but at his insistence, you shift forward. Jiaoqiu carefully lifts the porcelain cup to your lips, the warmth of his fingers brushing against your chin as he guides you to take a sip.
The taste surprises you—it’s subtly sweet, gentle, soothing. Comforting. You exhale, relaxing against the pillows.
"Not bad," you admit.
"Not bad?" Jiaoqiu repeats with mock offense. "I believe that is the highest praise you've ever given me."
You roll your eyes but can't help the small smile tugging at your lips. "Don't get used to it."
His hand lingers on yours for a moment, his thumb ghosting over your knuckles. "Of course not," he murmurs, though the knowing smile on his face suggests otherwise.
As the warmth of the tea seeps into your body, easing the pain bit by bit, you think—maybe, just maybe, having a sly fox around isn't so bad after all.
hello! can i request aventurine, jing yuan, sunday, moze, boothill (separately) going to a bar with the reader, and the reader getting so drunk they forget they already are in a stablished relationship with them, so the reader starts flirtling with them. how would each one of them react? and then, their reaction to the reader getting absolutely shocked and happy when they reveal they already are in a relationship with the reader
Drunken Confessions and Sweet Surprises
Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Jing Yuan x Reader, Boothill x Reader, Fluff, Humor, Drunken Confessions, Established Relationship, Romantic Humor, Lighthearted Banter, Unintentional Flirting, Affection
Warnings: Alcohol consumption, Mild language (slurring), Slightly suggestive content (in a humorous context)
The bar was alive with laughter and clinking glasses, the low hum of a jazzy tune weaving through the air. Aventurine leaned against the bar counter, his eyes glinting in amusement as he swirled the ice in his glass. He had been watching you for the better part of the night, your cheeks flushed and words tumbling over each other as you tipped back yet another cocktail.
“Can I help you with something, darling?” he asked, voice smooth and teasing as you stumbled closer to him. You squinted at him, your drunken mind struggling to piece together the familiarity of his smirk.
“Wow,” you slurred, propping yourself on the bar next to him. “You’re… really handsome, you know that? Like… dangerously handsome.”
Aventurine chuckled, tilting his head. “Dangerously, you say? That’s a new one. Do go on.”
“I mean it!” You jabbed a finger toward his chest, almost tipping over in the process. He steadied you with one hand on your waist, his touch firm yet gentle. “You look like someone out of a movie, or… or a dream. Are you single? ‘Cause if you are, I’m totally available.”
His grin widened, a mischievous glint sparking in his eyes. “Oh? You’re available, are you? That’s quite the bold proposition. What would your partner say?”
You blinked at him, utterly perplexed. “Partner? No way I’d have a partner as hot as you. That’d be… that’d be too good to be true.”
Aventurine’s laughter spilled out, warm and rich as he leaned in close. “Darling, you’re absolutely delightful when you’re drunk. But I must admit, you’ve already hit the jackpot. You’re speaking to your partner.”
Your jaw dropped, your wide-eyed expression almost comical. “Wait… what? No way. You’re serious?”
“Completely,” he replied, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “We’ve been together for quite some time, love. And might I say, your flirting is as charming now as it was when we first met.”
A stunned silence fell over you before a brilliant smile broke across your face. “Oh my god. That’s amazing. You mean I actually landed someone like you? I’m awesome.”
Aventurine chuckled, pulling you closer. “Yes, you are. And don’t you forget it.”
The bar was unusually lively, the hum of conversations and clinking glasses filling the air. Jing Yuan leaned back in his chair, one hand resting lightly on his drink while his eyes followed your every move. You were a few drinks in, your usual composure slipping into something more chaotic and endearing.
“Hey,” you said, plopping down into the seat beside him and pointing a finger at his face. “You’re really good-looking, you know that? Like… unfairly good-looking.”
Jing Yuan raised an eyebrow, his lips quirking into a soft smile. “Is that so? Thank you for the compliment.”
“I’m serious,” you continued, leaning closer. “You’re like… some kind of god or something. Are you single? Because if you are, I think we’d make a great couple.”
The general chuckled, his deep voice laced with amusement. “I’m flattered, truly. But are you sure you don’t already have someone in your life?”
You frowned, your tipsy brain struggling to process his words. “Nope. If I had someone as gorgeous as you, I’d definitely remember. So… how about it? Wanna give us a shot?”
Jing Yuan let out a low laugh, his eyes twinkling with warmth. “My dear, I hate to disappoint, but we’re already together. Have been for quite a while.”
Your eyes widened, a mix of shock and delight washing over your face. “Wait… really? No way. I’m dating you?”
He nodded, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “You are. And I must say, it’s quite entertaining watching you rediscover it.”
A goofy grin spread across your face as you leaned against his shoulder. “This is the best day of my life. I’m dating Jing Yuan. I should get drunk more often.”
Jing Yuan laughed, wrapping an arm around you. “Perhaps. But let’s save that for special occasions, shall we?”
The bar was a little rough around the edges, much like Boothill himself. He sat at a corner table, his mechanical fingers tapping rhythmically against his glass. His eyes never strayed far from you as you wove through the crowd, your drunken laughter cutting through the noise.
You finally stumbled over to him, plopping into the seat across from him with a dramatic sigh. “You’re… really cool, you know that?” you slurred, propping your chin on your hand. “Like… mysterious and badass. Are you single?”
Boothill raised an eyebrow, his sharp teeth flashing in an amused grin. “Ain’t this somethin’. You’re hittin’ on me now?”
“Duh,” you replied, rolling your eyes. “You’re, like, the coolest person here. I’d be stupid not to.”
He chuckled, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the table. “And what if I told ya you already got me?”
You blinked at him, your alcohol-addled brain struggling to catch up. “What do you mean?”
Boothill smirked, tilting his hat back. “You and me? We’re already a thing. Have been for a while now.”
Your jaw dropped, and for a moment, you were speechless. Then, a wide grin spread across your face. “No way. That’s awesome. I’m dating you? That’s, like, the best thing ever.”
“Glad you think so,” he said, his grin softening into something more genuine. “You’re somethin’ else, y’know that?”
You reached across the table, grabbing his hand with both of yours. “I can’t believe I got so lucky. I’m never letting you go.”
Boothill chuckled, squeezing your hand. “Don’t reckon I’d let you if you tried.”
I physically need to read a fic with a sober reader who witnesses how goofy Kaveh and Veritas can get when they're drunk and is just shocked that they're capable of being THIS playful and unhinged. Bonus if the reader records them and teases them about it later on.
Under the Influence
Summary: When Kaveh and Ratio drink a bit too much, their usually serious and refined personas melt away, revealing a goofy, playful side that shocks their sober partner. As Kaveh balances wine glasses on his head and Ratio narrates absurdly dramatic tales, you capture the hilarity on video and tease them about their drunken antics later. What begins as a drunken display of silliness turns into a heartwarming moment where the two intellectuals let go of their usual restraint and embrace their more carefree sides.
Tags: Kaveh x Reader x Ratio, Fluff, Humor, Drunken Shenanigans, Teasing, Playful Dynamics, Sober Reader, Lighthearted Banter.
Warnings: Alcohol consumption, Light swearing, Mild inebriation and the silliness that follows.
[Part 2]
You had always known Kaveh as the passionate architect, the one who threw himself into his work without a second thought. His sharp eyes were usually filled with intensity, whether he was sketching out blueprints or discussing the intricacies of his designs with a fervor that could be described as borderline obsessive. On the other hand, Dr. Veritas Ratio, or as he liked to be called, Dr. Ratio, was known for his unmatched intellect, his sharp wit, and his imposing presence as a scholar of the highest order. He was always calm, calculated, and logical in everything he did.
But tonight, everything had changed.
The three of you—Kaveh, Ratio, and yourself—had been winding down after a particularly long day. A few drinks were shared, mostly to calm the nerves after a heated debate between Kaveh and Ratio about the nature of beauty versus logic in architecture. You had opted for a glass of water, wanting to stay sober for the evening.
The first drink had seemed harmless enough, then the second, and soon enough, the two of them were... well, a different version of themselves.
Kaveh, normally an epitome of elegance, was now sprawled across the couch, his arms flailing about as he attempted to convey the complexity of his latest architectural vision with a drunk logic all his own. Ratio, on the other hand, had started laughing—genuinely laughing—a sound that was so foreign coming from him, you almost couldn’t believe it.
You stood nearby, observing the scene with a combination of disbelief and amusement. Kaveh was currently trying to balance a glass of wine on his head, apparently convinced that this would somehow make him look more refined.
“Look, look!” Kaveh slurred, gesturing grandly with his arms. “An architect is a true artist, right? And art is about balance! And this, my dear Ratio, is balance!” He gave a triumphant grin, the glass teetering dangerously on his head as he struck a dramatic pose.
Ratio, who had been sitting in a more reserved manner just moments ago, now seemed to have completely let go of his usual composure. He was clutching his sides, laughing harder than you had ever seen him laugh in all the time you had known him.
“I never thought I'd see the day when Kaveh, the ‘Master of Aesthetics,’ would be reduced to a—what did you call it?—a ‘drunken genius’ in his own right!” Ratio managed to say between bursts of laughter, his voice unusually high-pitched in his state.
Kaveh, however, wasn’t finished yet. With an exaggerated gesture, he began to dramatically “sing” an operatic rendition of what was undoubtedly the most nonsensical and off-key song you had ever heard. You couldn’t help but snicker as he added hand movements for extra flair.
“You should definitely get a recording of this,” Ratio said, wiping away tears from the corner of his eyes. “This is legendary, and no one would believe it if you told them.”
Your eyebrows shot up in realization. A mischievous smile crept onto your face as you reached for your phone. You had to document this moment—it was too precious to be forgotten.
As you pressed record, the two men’s antics continued, utterly unhinged. Kaveh was now rolling on the floor, pretending to be a cat in an exaggerated display of theatrical nonsense, while Ratio began narrating an imaginary tale of "the drunken architect and the scholarly fool" in a deep, overly dramatic voice that sounded like he was auditioning for an epic movie role.
“Once upon a time, there was a brilliant architect,” Ratio began, sounding almost serious, “who sought to balance the world with a glass of wine on his head. But lo and behold! His genius was thwarted by a foolish scholar who...”
“Hey!” Kaveh interrupted, still lying on the floor but with a playful pout on his face, “I’m not a fool! I’m an artist, Ratio! A true visionary!”
You couldn’t help but giggle at the absurdity of it all. Your phone’s camera captured every moment—the dramatic poses, the ridiculous banter, and Kaveh’s insistence that he was both an architect and a revolutionary philosopher in the same breath. Ratio’s narrative voice only made it all the more surreal.
“And as the great architect’s impossible balance failed,” Ratio continued, “he lost his grace and fell into the arms of a drunken fool who had, ironically, become a greater scholar in his drunken stupor than he ever was sober.” He paused and gave you a wink as if he knew exactly what you were thinking. “Should I start charging for this performance?”
“Oh, stop it, you,” Kaveh protested, his voice slurred but still full of mock indignation. “You’re just jealous because my artistic flair is more... refined than your boring lectures.”
That was it. You burst out laughing, clutching your phone in one hand as you tried to contain yourself. The two men had completely abandoned any sense of dignity, and you were witnessing a side of them you’d never expected—Kaveh, who prided himself on being a refined, somewhat dramatic figure, and Ratio, usually so stoic and controlled, both completely unhinged in a drunken stupor.
You stopped recording for a moment, both of them still lost in their own silly world.
“You both are ridiculous,” you teased, still chuckling. “I can’t believe I’m seeing this side of you.”
Kaveh shot you a grin, his earlier dignity long gone. “Oh, you better believe it. You’ve unlocked the true genius of Kaveh and Ratio!”
“Geniuses,” Ratio echoed with a wry smile, his head still spinning slightly from the wine. “I have never met two people more qualified to—”
“—make fools of ourselves?” Kaveh interrupted, finishing Ratio’s sentence with a dramatic flair.
“Exactly!” Ratio said, as if this was the revelation of the century. He staggered slightly and straightened himself up, clearly attempting to reclaim some of his usual poise. “You have to admit, we are rather amusing when not bound by the chains of intellectual superiority.”
You couldn’t hold back your laughter. You pointed your phone back at them, capturing the absurdity of the moment. “This is gold. I’m going to make sure everyone hears about ‘Drunken Genius Kaveh’ and ‘Scholar Ratio’ forever.”
At that, Kaveh made a playful, exaggerated bow from the floor. “As long as I’m remembered for my art, I have no complaints!”
Ratio, still swaying slightly, joined in, offering an over-the-top, formal bow that had you in stitches. “Indeed. May our genius be immortalized, even if it’s through the lens of... let’s say, questionable decisions.”
You laughed again, feeling a warmth in your chest at the sight of these two intellectuals, usually so serious, embracing the chaos of the moment. It was clear that beneath all the genius and the hard exterior, they had their own quirks, their own human sides—unfiltered, unrefined, and entirely lovable.
Before you could stop yourself, you playfully raised your phone and said, “So, are we getting this on record? Or should I keep the next few minutes a secret?”
“Oh, no,” Kaveh interjected, suddenly sitting up, “absolutely not. This is an exclusive performance!”
Ratio smirked. “Right. And we’re expecting royalties for that footage.”
You grinned, shaking your head. “We’ll see about that.”
can i request parental Venti(Barbatos) & reader? I have no specific scenario but maybe its Venti comforting reader who have a bad day?
Where the Wind Finds You
Summary: After a tough day, you find solace under the oak tree in Windrise, trying to escape the weight of your emotions. Venti, ever the caring but playful bard, arrives and comforts you with his lighthearted antics and philosophical words. His presence and the gentle music from his lyre help lift your spirits, reminding you that even on bad days, you're never alone.
A/N: Didn't knew if you wanted reader to be either an adult or a teen/kid 🧍♀️
Mondstadt was alive tonight. The air carried the songs of the bustling taverns, the laughter of friends, and the occasional sound of a lyre string plucked by a street performer. However, none of this reached you.
Sitting quietly beneath the massive oak tree in Windrise, you traced patterns in the grass with a stick. The world seemed smaller and heavier today, pressing down on you in a way that felt suffocating. You weren’t sure if it was the argument with a friend, the weight of an overwhelming task, or simply a bad day, but it was enough to leave you here, hiding from Mondstadt’s usual joy.
You almost didn’t notice the soft rustle of leaves overhead, a breeze carrying the faint scent of apples and the familiar hum of a certain bard.
“Hmm,” came the lilting voice, “it seems the winds have guided me to a rather gloomy cloud today. Now, why would that be?”
You looked up to see Venti perched on one of the lower branches, his legs swinging lazily. His eyes, glowing faintly in the moonlight, studied you with a mix of concern and playful curiosity. He tilted his head, offering a small smile, one that could make even the weightiest troubles feel a little lighter.
“Not in the mood for jokes, Venti,” you mumbled, looking back down.
He hopped down gracefully, landing beside you with a soft thud. Settling onto the grass, he leaned back against the tree, letting his lyre rest across his lap. “Ah, so it’s one of those days. I see. Would you like me to play a song to cheer you up, or shall I sit here in silence and let the wind do the talking?”
You shrugged. “You don’t have to do anything. I’ll be fine.”
“Of course you will,” he said, his voice unusually soft. “But even the strongest winds need a moment to rest, you know? Besides,” he leaned closer, his tone turning teasing, “you’re not getting rid of me that easily.”
Despite yourself, a small smile tugged at your lips. That was the thing about Venti—he had a way of making the world seem less heavy, even when you weren’t ready to admit it.
“I just… had a bad day,” you finally said. “Everything feels… wrong.”
Venti nodded, resting his chin on his knees. “Bad days are tricky things, aren’t they? They sneak up on you like a storm cloud, blotting out the sun. But you know what storms hate the most?”
You glanced at him. “What?”
“A good, strong breeze,” he said, puffing out his chest dramatically. “And lucky for you, I happen to be an expert in blowing storms away!”
You couldn’t help but laugh at his antics, the sound surprising even you. He grinned, clearly pleased with himself, before settling back into a more serious tone.
“Jokes aside,” Venti said, “it’s okay to feel like this. The winds may carry us far, but even they don’t always know where they’re going. And that’s alright. What matters is that you don’t let the weight of today keep you from soaring tomorrow.”
You nodded slowly, the knot in your chest loosening just a little. Venti strummed his lyre gently, a soft melody filling the air. It wasn’t a grand, sweeping song like the ones he played in the taverns, but something quieter, more personal.
“Remember,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, “even when the winds seem still, they’re always there, ready to lift you up. Just like me.”
You leaned against him, and for the first time that day, the world didn’t feel so heavy.
