synopsis : you got stood up :C, tragic yes, but thankfully for your best friend is on his way and totally not thankful it didn't work out!
tags : fluff, crack, suggestive language, lohen is insanely down bad btw, venti is ooc probably AHHH MY VENTI WRITING HAS BEEN MID LATELY, idk what's happening with kinich's gng it's one am.
characters : lohen (pre-release, may be ooc), lyney, wanderer, venti, kinich.
author's notes. i got lazy at kinich im sorry this idea has been rotting in my drafts since february </3
beyond the stars in the sky, and the flowers whose seeds fly, it's as if the red strings of fate pull my heart toward yours. aka, these men are stupid and in love! the wind blows in two different directions, which way do you follow, oh beloved adventurer...
fluff. not proofread. wanderer & venti x gn!reader (separately).
DIRECTOR'S NOTES. it's mostly just them having a crush lowk but they're yearners by default i don't make the rules (i do). and also... gulp this took way too long.. (i was going to add a one shot alongside the headcanons but this has already been in my drafts too long)... i really need to stop procrastinating my lohen smau.. also if you guys really like this, i can do a pt.2 with different characters. if so, which ones would you all like to see? || READER IS NOT THE TRAVELLER
ALBUM ONE. wanderer.
" obsessing over something that's destined to be ever out of one's reach is just a waste of time , "
" and yet i find myself thinking of you constantly regardless . "
• yearner!wanderer who orbits you like the moon does it's universe. on a walk through avidya forest? he's coincidentally laying on a tree branch down the path. shopping through sumeru’s markets? he's coincidentally there too, and "i suppose i can help you carry stuff, it's almost pitiful how much you're struggling." (you weren't struggling. at all)
• yearner!wanderer who always wants to be at your side. even when he's drained from being around people, he finds himself still wishing to be in your presence. you ground him, even if you don't seem to realize it.
• yearner!wanderer who no matter how much he tries to stop it, always feels his gaze linger in your direction. whether it be a quick glance to make sure you're alright, or a dazed, longing stare he can't help, his eyes will always find you in a crowd.
• yearner!wanderer who always has "leftovers" for you if you haven't eaten. always has "a spare water bottle for idiots who forget to bring one" (it's just for you) whenever you're in the desert. and always let's you under his hat if it suddenly rains. if he quickly looks away when you move closer? he's simply watching the rain to see when it'll pass.. obviously…
• yearner!wanderer who remembers everything you say, even if it's pointless rambles. and always has to bite back the stupidly soft smile that threatens to show on his face when you light up at him mentioning something from a prior conversation. everything you say he finds himself thinking back on when you're away, over and over, your voice echoing in his mind..
• yearner!wanderer who finds himself indulging in things his past self never would've imagined himself doing, just as an excuse to be around you more often. trying out your hobbies to see it from your perspective (even if he's bad at it at first) and see why you like it so much. exploring your favourite places at multiple times of day. buying things that remind him of you and leaving them at your door unnamed. who knew he'd be so uncharacteristic, the things you do to him..
• yearner!wanderer who if you're someone naturally physically affectionate, always finds himself touching where your hands were, lingering on the momentary touch. and if you're not, you'll always find him touching. not obviously nor directly, but most times a simple brush of hands as he passes you.
• yearner!wanderer who believes he is unworthy of your love, and is too scared to risk losing you, so instead of words, he'll admire and care for you from afar.
• yearner!wanderer who writes down all the words he'd never dare say to your face, only to bashfully throw the papers into fire moments after.
ALBUM TWO. venti.
" to be beloved of the anemo archon ,
is to be cherished by wind and wine . "
• yearner!venti who adores you like birds admire the sky. he always finds a way to be in your general presence, even if you don't speak, he'll be in the corner of your eye. whether it be he’s performing a song, drinking with others, or something else entirely, it's always around you.
• yearner!venti who finds his usual way with words leave him whenever you two are alone. while not stuttering, he ends up stopping halfway through sentences, pausing before opening his mouth at moments, and 'accidentally' messing up lines of poetry, as if he's distracted. too distracted trying to engrave the image of you talking to him and the sound of your voice into his mind that it can't help but turn off for a few seconds. he always recovers with a wink and smile, but those unspoken moments seem to linger.
• yearner!venti who knows your routine and habits almost as familiarly as he knows the breezes of mondstadt. he'll stop by good hunter at the times your favourite meals are on special. if he catches you at angel’s share he'll always offer you a drink. any and every favourite song of yours is something his lyre plays at least once a day. he had your favourites memorized before he ever consciously realized it.
• yearner!venti who's known for smiling often enough people don't question how his smile will widen at the mention of your name, how it grows playful and determined once a mutual friend tells him something about you, and how it softens when he's alone playing a melody he made, hoping the wind brings it to you.
• yearner!venti who loves to playfully tease you, but always at his expense not yours. "oh be still my fragile heart, how can a bard such as myself possibly ever imagine capturing your radiance with mere words?" "i am but a humble bard, where ever may my beloved warrior and muse be.."
• yearner!venti who's always protecting you, even when he himself isn't there. the wind has always been responsive to those who call upon it, but especially you. it makes sure you don't trip, pushes back enemies before you can even begin to run, and guides you whenever you ask. at this point, the people of mondstadt have started to suspect you have some sort of.. secret anemo vision, or elemental authority, all due to the way the wind always answers.
• yearner!venti who mirrors you without even seeming to notice. you tilt your head when confused? well now he does too. you lean in when speaking? well now he does too. it's not just with posture too. he loves you, and by extension, everything you do. he sees the care in your eyes whenever you hold something precious to you (such as the cecilia flowers he gave), and can't help but end up adoring whatever it is you adore as well.
• yearner!venti who fixes his appearance whenever you enter a room. adjusting his hat, twirling his hair, sitting up more gracefully. and when you notice a difference in his appearance, whether it be a different bow or new accessory, he smiles like he's won something finer than the richest wine. he either adds or removes an accessory every week, checking what you do notice and what you don't, then mentally notes it down.
• yearner!venti who constantly offers to take you on adventures with him. and it's a 'coincidence' that you always return back in mondstadt city holding flowers, apples, and the scent of dandelion wine..
• yearner!venti who makes music about you as easily as he breathes. sometimes in the language of ancient mondstadt, and so he has you listening and adoring songs about your future together without you even realizing. about how much brighter his laughter feels if you're the cause, about how much lighter he moves if it's beside you, and about whisking you away with the wind..
You were woken up by the bold sunrays creeping into your room, highlighting your form, and so was your lover. Venti smiles as he feels you roll onto your other side, pretending to be deep asleep as your fingers gently trace the anemo mark on his neck. The room is cool, the duvets warm and the air is filled with the subtle scent of cecilias as your fingers gently swipe your mans hair away, just so you can have a better look at the beautiful symbol while your fingers move down his spine. You smile as he giggles, unable to hold the act any longer. He mumurs something about windblumes and insisting to rest longer before he is out in the land of dreams once more.
definitely not my comeback piece. just got inspired randomly in the middle of so many things that i have been doing. i deeply apologize ;; 🙇♂️. this is just… a really long story that builds on the premise of the last story i posted TvT.
𖦹 big on genshin lore again, with a few interpretations of my own to fill in the gaps and insert the reader, creator reader but not sagau (again like the last story), focuses on post primordial one vs sovereigns, primordial one and second throne war, archon war, and post-cataclysm. features all six archons by their goetic names (the tsaritsa is conveniently not around), neuvillette, mentions of old seven and apep, this leans on a what if scenario, of reader coming down to teyvat before the archon war, reader is a little brutal but that’s okay ;;
The sky has never looked more fake.
Your eyes squint at the light that the world you have crafted bathed in. You had seen the horrific sights that lie beyond the peaceful blue that the skies projected before you.
Though it did little to bother any other living creature that now dwelled on your magnum opus. Your gaze drifts to the new beings, molded with striking differences from one another, their characteristics bound by the land that they were born on.
The day you had awoken was a painful ordeal to go through. The wounds that lodged within your very body is terrifyingly painful. And the very world that you had created and anchored into your body was the only culprit.
For a time, your masterpiece, Teyvat, felt like a malignant tumor that only propagated within your soul, corroding every piece of your self until you are no more. How ironic was it that your most cherished creation among all the other worlds became the very thing that causes you physical harm.
You had slumbered for a long time since then, and had dutifully descended. Your sleep was not only attributed to the pain during its descent, but also to mourn the painful passing of your beloved sovereigns. Your eyes cannot endure the fate they suffered through, and to this day, the guilt tramples over whatever sense of elation that you feel, washed over with the feelings of intense shame.
Their creator was you alone. No one else.
And when an alien being came to hunt them down for a war that lasted decades, you were nowhere to be found.
You were certain that Nibelung knew your gaze was casted on them, that he understood you were stepping away as a form of test, a way to see if he, as well as your seven sovereigns could withstand such a small conundrum such as a foreign descender.
The thought sickens you physically — you could only wonder if you putting your loving faith on them to be your champions in this war was a devastating mistake of yours that they paid for with their lives and dignity. Your mind could barely comprehend the kind of desperation that Nibelung must have felt for him to dive into the deepest depths and use a knowledge not of this world that Teyvat, and to an extent — your body, until now, struggles to recover from.
A sigh escapes your lips.
It was a gnawing ache, like those celestial larvae that crawl into your body, having a grand feast on it.
The day you descended, you had called on the elements that embodied this very world, seeking answers for what had happened when you were in such a deep sleep, entirely clueless of the events, with only a body that aches from the physical wounds it sustained to guide you to the clues about Old Teyvat’s demise and the embarking of its new age.
You had learned that day, that after the devastating defeat of your dragons, it imparted a new life. And now, humans walked the very ground you had crafted for dragons to walk on initially. You have also learned that the tiny vishaps have retreated deep into Teyvat, living under the hopeless depths, making do and surviving in such a decrepit environment.
Coming in contact with them was nothing more than a world full of hurt when you came to the realization that even the vishaps are terrified of your light. It had shattered a piece of you, and have only grieved with nothing but shame and regret.
And even when you left, the despairing echoes of your cries remained beneath as the vishaps’ lullabies as well as the tears that created a pool for them to bathe in.
Your cries that soothed the vishaps became a haunting legend in a certain civilization that had collapsed and fell through the depths. Children cowered at the stories told about the harrowing echoes, and the scholars of that very civilization had recorded your voice as a mere phenomenon, a tale for the insane, a story for bedtime to frighten unruly children.
Much after the grieving that you had succumbed to, you had learned the stinging pain that pierced through your body that keeps persisting to this day was the work of these pillars — you have come to know them as its divine nails, made to heal the lands of Teyvat from the parasitic effects that the forbidden knowledge inflicted when it was used during the wars.
Quite frankly, it did little to heal your body as you feel the way it seems to lodge within your very core, destroying and corrupting pieces of your soul.
Your first journey since your awakening was nothing short of enlightening. You had learned much about the turn of events. Your dragons have suffered enough, with the few alive ones like the Dragon of Verdure incredibly spiteful of the new race that came about.
And you were not clueless about the sharp tone Apep had taken when she first talked to you after your disappearance during the war between it and the seven sovereigns. You understood the bitterness and sheer betrayal that she had felt, knowing that all this would have been prevented had you only decided to lend a hand.
You left Apep’s abode with little pity for yourself and more remorse for not being a proper artisan to your creation.
But as you watched a civilization grow among the vast sands, you also cannot help but disagree with the unsavory words that Apep had described the new life.
Yes, they were small.
But you understood that humanity is not insignificant.
Gods have always fascinated you.
You understood that to some degree, you too, are a god. You understood that way before Teyvat became a project of yours. Your previous creations that were successfully inhabited with the creatures you had given life to worshiped you, and your descent on your visits were always welcomed with celebrations of endless grandeur.
Things were no different once the sovereigns had come to realize that you were the source of their life and the very world they live in right now. And you had also been crowned as Teyvat’s primordial deity.
However, the age of humanity had given birth to two differing types. There were the normal humans — mortal, average in strength, and so easily swayed by their desires and fears alike.
And then there were the immortals. You had come to realize that immortals came in all forms. Some had originally been creatures of the myth, others were mere elemental manifestations, spirits, or humans that were lucky enough to be ordained and strong enough to defy all the odds that an average human can only do.
There were also gods who took the shape of creatures — sea monsters, newer dragons that were striking descendants of the ancient ones.
You understood then, that even immortals, much like mortals, answered to the authority that reigned supreme in your world, someone who is not you.
Glancing up at the sky, your gaze immediately drifts to that floating piece of land, meant to hold the thrones of those revered by the new worldly life.
And just as you were finally understanding the existence of gods lesser than you, the one above who has stolen your very presence of authority declared an all-out brawl across Teyvat, deeming your very masterpiece its playground for needless bloodshed and barbaric warfare.
It declared seven thrones for seven remaining gods that would triumph above all.
And nothing could prepare you for the prize of winning one.
It was an unforgettable feeling — the way your blood ran cold as it presented seven ornaments in unique shapes, each containing a very familiar power that you have cultivated and given yourself.
The prize was the authority of your defeated sovereigns.
Mockery. You thought it was mockery. You thought whatever resides up there knows you were lurking, relearning Teyvat after your forced slumber for survival, and decided to taunt your everlasting grief over your creations by using the very dignity of each dragon sovereign that you had entrusted those authorities to.
And now, it taunts you in such a needlessly cruel way, by desecrating your world once more through an all out war between the very gods they have also created.
It was a jarring era. You took part in aiding the defenseless mortals, taking whoever in the tiny nooks all over the world. You had brought several mortals in your sanctuary in times of desperation while gods have staked their claim by surviving battle after battle.
Tactics were employed by different gods, differing in styles. Some had bargained for it, some willingly gave their throne to a god they deem fit, others who are weaker opted to team up with those that can trample over others, some had forcibly taken what was rightfully theirs, and some had willingly shut themselves off, cowering away in hopes of being left alone so they may protect their people in peace.
You had learned by then that even gods… can succumb to their desires and fears.
It had been long since the great war among gods had concluded.
However you can still feel the bittersweet sensation that pulsed through your veins as you watched all seven take their seats, claim their divine thrones, and hold the vessels for the power stolen from your elemental dragon sovereigns.
You would remember them as they staked their claim over their regions.
Barbatos, Morax, Baal, Rukkhadevata, Egeria, Xbalanque, and previous Tsaritsa.
You recall them well enough — considering that they have managed to unearth the truth of Teyvat’s existence. They came to you, offering themselves for you to indulge at the cost of recognition.
The original seven, eager as they were to meet you, were promptly shut down with a smile on your lips.
“You are not mine to claim, as my blood does not flow through any of yours’ veins.”
Suffering became an easy friend of yours.
You had gone through so much already, and your body as well as Teyvat have yet to heal and recuperate from the effects of the many wars that transpired on this world.
And here comes another one.
However, this time, someone had played the role of Icarus, and had flown way too close to a certain parasite.
It dawned on you as the familiar stinging pain seeped though your very core, breaking you once more little by little, its persistence unmistaken when you first felt it when the very first war erupted in this world.
Someone had unearthed Nibelung’s discovery of the forbidden knowledge and decided to use it.
You remember it vividly — yet another huge devastation that came to Teyvat. However, the catastrophe was marginally bigger compared to the horrid Archon war. And with the discomfort of bearing through that disgustingly painful experience, you had plunged into yet another slumber.
By the time you had awoken, you realized how deeply affected each and everyone was. Many comrades have died, some were affected, and you had come to find out that even the archons had to make some incredibly difficult sacrifices that dealt equally devastating blows to their very being.
You had little to say.
However, you have much to do.
Perhaps it was your guilty conscience that pushed you into this long journey. However, you were not guilty of being asleep while the fallen nation had wreaked havoc with their circumstances. Your guilt lied within the fact that you had never gotten to console your dragon sovereigns when they were defeated by it.
Most of them were dead, others were sealed and unable to reincarnate.
And so this was your way of making it up to them, albeit… with the archons, those who remained, and those who are now stepping up into their new responsibilities as a member of the newly established seven.
You had first visited the cold region of Snezhnaya, paying a visit to their new Cryo Archon, who has been planning something else entirely. She had willingly entertained you, despite the slight edge and tension within her. However you understood that you were limiting her desire to continue on with her plans, and so you were quick to disappear from that very nation.
Barbatos has always held you in a high regard the moment his eyes were opened to your existence. The heavenly principles call you the slumbering sloth, deeming your forced slumber and inactivity to act against the horrors Teyvat has gone through a mistake on your part as a creator.
But he deems it as a slander, and he quietly protests at the image imposed so heavily on him. He adored the freedom you had granted — giving free will to the creatures that now live on your domain, and it was that freedom that had continued to flourish within him, spurring on a belief that he had cultivated since the moment he received his gnosis.
In that tiny piece of divinity, he felt you. Quietly lurking across the lands of Teyvat, minding your own affairs without intent of reconnecting with others.
And when he and his fellow archons sought you for answers, you had little to say. Shutting them down with an indifferent gaze — no, Venti hardly calls it indifferent, the mask sure was indifferent, but there is a sense of agony that seems to seep out from that very mask.
Barbatos sleeps for eons not to gather his bearings, but to feel closer to you.
And now here he finds you in the waking world, gaze overlooking Mondstadt — currently rebuilding the life that was devastated by the cataclysm alone. His wings tuck behind him, respectful as he was as he bowed to you.
“They have it handled, Your Benevolence,” he regards you with a carefree grin on his lips, “…Humans are strong. And that freedom I’ve given them will flourish.”
“You seem so sure of it,” you respond without missing a beat.
“…They are still ignorant of you, and they do not realize that the freedom I embody is how I carry your will,” his voice comes out in a quiet purr, a reverent tone that held nothing but unadulterated adoration and devotion.
Your gaze seems too far — looking at the horizon and Barbatos wants to see what your eyes can see in this world. What perspective you have, what you think of the new Teyvat and what you think of him, carrying out your principles through his own beliefs.
“…Let us hope it is not a mistake,” you mumble, your fingers gently caressing those pristine white wings of his, and Barbatos relishes in the feeling.
He held back a wince as he felt a sharp sting from when you plucked a feather from his wing.
Barbatos had one thing to say.
“If it is your will, then it shall be done.”
You had doubts with that. You had your will — and it was done. And where did that lead you? Facing a god bearing the face of a creature that now replaced your creations.
You sucked in a sharp breath before smiling, a shallow gesture as you tucked in Barbatos’ pure white feather behind your ear.
“Mm… it shall be done,” you repeat, and a gentle breeze brushes past you. A tiny whisper and a loving kiss from the archon himself.
You accept it with a quiet hum.
Morax had more questions than the blatant adoration that Barbatos held for you. He first came to you apprehensive and tense, but you knew that he understood that he had to be around in order to get the answers he desired. He came to you with the arrogance and bravado befitting of a god.
How pathetic was it that he looked more like a god than you will ever be. But when he did, you were in a fit of deep sorrow when the heavenly principles made a mockery of your sovereigns and had given it to these new gods that prevailed mostly through bloodshed and sheer force.
He questioned your methods, Morax understood so little about your motives, about your life, about your method of creation. However arrogant and mighty as he was, he held deep respect for you still, you were the creator of the dragons that inspired him to mold his likeness into the same sort when he presented his Exuvia during his descent in Liyue.
And yet you still managed to devastate him as you first rejected him along with the first seven. Unlike Barbatos who saw agony, Morax felt the indignant resentment that enveloped your divine being, and it rubbed him the wrong way.
Morax was quick to straighten himself up, and was eager to wisen himself.
Right, he was taught to understand others.
Your legacy was infamous for losing against the heavenly principles’ divine intervention, that your sordid draconic creations were no match for the primordial one and its shades. That your era was replaced within a battle that only lasted for a few decades. And as you sat at the edge of the tall mountains that he had shaped, gracefully indulging in the tea ways away from Chenyu Vale, he could only bask in your divinity as he stood behind you, keeping a watchful gaze of your very being.
You still had that alluring glimmer that he saw when he first came to you.
An uneasy feeling grasps onto his very being. Perhaps it was the lingering trauma of being rejected by you initially that even served his cautious display now.
“…You’ve done well,” you murmur quietly. A simple, quiet praise, and Morax’s knees nearly buckled at the sheer weight. Of all the times he had been on the battlefield, none could outweigh the suffocating feeling that you suddenly imparted to him.
He feels the weight of expectations while your gaze swept over Liyue’s entirety. And Morax invites it wholeheartedly. His body gives into the sudden pressure that weighed him down, prompting him to go down on one knee, head bowed with a reverent expression.
Morax adores you so much.
“I have taken great inspiration from your creations, Your Benevolence. I have crafted them with you in mind, with how you may envision my nation to its way to prosperity.” His voice sounds like a whisper compared to your melodious echo. “It pleases me greatly to be praised by you.”
Your eyes flit to the countless mountains that were not there before. No doubt they have been shaped with the aid of Morax’s newfound authority over the land with his won authority over Geo.
“As an artisan, I must say, you have truly outdone yourself,” you quietly muse, resting the teacup between your thighs. “You have the talent, I would be remiss to not take you in and teach you few of my personal techniques.”
Morax’s breath hitched, his lips tremble, making his way towards you, half-crawling like a pest that now will surely refuse to leave your side. He had done well in his mind — redeemed himself from the foolish arrogance he once had that might have caused your blatant rejection of his being at first. But now, you were willing to let him learn from you, and that was a step far bigger than any god could have ever made.
“…Please,” he mumbled, his fingers digging into the dirt as desperation floods his mind wave after wave. “Please… please, Your Benevolence. Impart your knowledge to me. I will forever be grateful.”
Nothing could prepare him from your quiet laughter, amused by his devotion.
He is quiet, sucking in a sharp breath as he heaved a quiet sigh of sheer pleasure and relief. A genuine desire blossoms through his chest, flourishing and spreading like an illness that cannot be remedied with something remotely as simple as a handful of ground up adeptal herbs.
It took you one look to understand… that you ought not to shatter his genuine bliss. That you ought to not tell him you merely laughed in memory of the dragon who once possessed the authority that now Morax holds.
Beelzebul has always been off with you. She did not know how to feel. Adoration and the imminent desire to devote her life to you was not the first thing she had felt. Perhaps her twin sister did, Baal always did have a sense of innate fanaticism that even as her identical twin, Beelzebul could not understand.
Though she understood that when she saw Baal so utterly heartbroken after speaking so highly of you that she felt enraged. Her sister had rightfully earned her throne in the heavens, to receive that Electro Gnosis, it was hers to have with no room for argument. She had won the favor of the higher power, so why… pray tell… have you rejected someone as strong as her?
She thought you were blind to the notion of strength. She thought you were a fool — to not have seen the grace of power that Baal, that Makoto, had in her hands. For you to refuse the adoration her twin sister felt was nothing short of an insult to Beelzebul. And for a long time, she had intent to make you recognize Baal.
And then the catastrophe comes and long gone were her desires to turn your gaze towards her sister.
Traumatized, Beelzebul had little to say as she lamented over Baal’s death on that horrid war. The war that combed through Teyvat, claiming the lives of not only powerless and helpless mortals but gods like Baal fell.
On that one moment, Beelzebul casted aside her resentment, and begged for you to see just what her sister was willing to do to protect your creation. To witness the pain Baal had to go through despite her inability to curry your favor.
How ironic was it, that now, overcome with immense grief and desire to achieve the eternity Beelzebul wanted for her people, that you decided to come.
The puppet hung still, lifeless and incomplete from the waist down. Beelzebul stood by, and an odd sentiment of understanding for Baal’s fascination and love for you washes over her, as if Beelzebul was programmed to love you in an instant. Her watchful gaze never left you as you walked around, analysing the puppet Beelzebul was in the middle of creating.
Your gaze — one that Baal had longed to have — was directed at Beelzebul now.
“Your desire to reach eternity… is this puppet the answer?” You ask, “Free from erosion, everlasting puppet, made to run your territory to a perfected pace.”
Beelzebul’s footsteps echo as she closed the distance between you and her inch by inch. She becomes minutely aware of your divinity. It was like no other. It provokes the inner sanctums of Beelzebul’s physical being.
Beelzebul wants to cry.
And she wants you to hold her.
You took note of how she stepped back, before responding to you, regarding you respectfully, “…Yes, Your Benevolence.” Her eyes flit to the features of the puppet. He is hardly molded to her likeness, but it shows, beautiful and everlasting. “An eternity does not succumb to the rotting scent of gradual decay. He is a mere prototype, a test of what shall be my true creation.”
“Pity that is,” you quietly murmur. “He would have been a precious one,” you gently cupped his cheeks around your hands.
Beelzebul watched with confusion and interest as your lips press against the puppet’s forehead.
“Blessed be thy path. Return to me and you will be recognized.”
You walked towards her, the ends of your robes fluttering behind you. Her breath hitches at the feeling of your hand over her sternum, “…And may you return to me, should your pursuit come into a halt.”
It felt like a challenge, but Beelzebul does not miss her desire for it to be a mere comfort from a god who is clearly far greater than she will ever be. Undeterred, Beelzebul turns to the puppet and resigns herself into yet another long period of endless work.
There will be eternity. And at the heart of that very eternity will solely be you and her.
Buer knew the day she was born that she had huge shoes to fill in. Her predecessor was a great one, and their domain altogether was far bigger than one could imagine. Sumeru had a tall order and young little Buer had to fulfill it all on her own.
She was born into succeeding Rukkhadevata’s greatest feats, already pushed into the limelight to take over and take action over the nation that her predecessor had managed to cultivate with her compassion and wisdom. Buer was intimidated, she had enough sense to admit and accept such a fact. Buer admired her predecessor, and will continue to do so, loving her endlessly and singing praises about the hard work that Rukkhadevata had put into establishing the rule of Sumeru.
Hence, Buer finds it so difficult to find her footing. Everything she does feels so little in comparison to her predecessor’s achievements, and it was not long before a part of that adoration turns into a quiet hum of deep insecurity, seeding into Buer’s heart that forced her into a never ending cycle of pressure and admiration.
“You have so much on your mind, little one.”
Her mind clears, and she stares up into you. You — the one adored by many, and one that Buer was certain Rukkhadevata had also adored and held in such a high pedestal and rightfully so. Buer wonders how you are able to withstand the crushing weight of pressure that you probably feel on your shoulders as you carried the very fate of this world that was secured and anchored well into your body.
“Your predecessor was the same,” you continue while your fingers slowly cross strands of her hair over the other, neatly plaided. “I watched her scramble around, trying to clean up the messes that her fellow god kings have caused. I watched her get smaller and smaller, sacrificing every part of herself into clearing out catastrophes one after the other.”
Buer agrees without a word. Perhaps not even a god like you is immune to just how truly amazing the original Dendro Archon was as you sang her praises.
“The world is ill, little Buer,” you mention as you gracefully tied her hair to the side. “And when Teyvat is ill, I too suffer the same painful fate.”
No person could understand the paradoxical nature of the feelings that slowly invited itself into Buer’s heart.
She feels light from your encouragement and yet feels utterly crushed at the weight of expectations that you have placed on her, whether or not it was your intention.
Buer feels smothered by it all, and it feels so damning, so terribly incapacitating that it pains her. But Buer loves you. You came to guide her like a parent would to a child when Rukkhadevata had given her the stage to guide a region far bigger than any other archon’s claim.
“I know, Your Benevolence…” she quietly murmured.
Buer’s eyes opened, and the green tint of this prison she was in knocks her out of her daydream. Her palm presses flat against the barrier. A wave of loneliness comes over her being, and it hurts. It had only been a year or two since you came and since her capture, but she had never felt so alone in a solitary prison that Rukkhadevata once used for her own benefit now being used against her own successor.
Where are you? Are you coming back? Are you sending a champion to rescue her? How long will she stay here? A century? Five? A millennium?
Buer prays to you. She asks for an answer. An answer that you alone can possess.
The God of Wisdom seeks your knowledge in desperation, hoping you do not turn a blind eye.
From her prison of isolation, Buer could only hear the last words you have said to her;
“Happy birthday, Little Buer…”
Focalors much like the others in the same state as her had rightfully succeeded the throne of the original archons that now perished in that catastrophic event. Focalors was a mere oceanid, following after Egeria’s will as the late Hydro Archon was led into a battle that she would no longer return from. And now, Egeria’s corpse lays within the deserts of Sumeru, where the late Dendro Archon had buried and cultivated her corpse into a tree that will always be a good distance away from the very nation Egeria ruled over.
Focalors feels injustice against her predecessor now that she has shouldered the prophetic curse that the heavenly principles have decided to rule against Egeria for her sin. Her sin. Focalors’ eyebrows furrowed — was it so bad that the late archon created life? That she had desired to create humans the same way that it had done. She recalled the day Egeria was blessed with the wisdom of your existence.
A sole artisan, you, had created this world. And another one came to give birth to a new realm inhabited by humans. You were not their creator, but from your inaction, it was clear you had accepted, or at the very least tolerated humanity that now thrives on the world you have created. Egeria holds a different opinion compared to the other archons. She thought it was fair that you had rejected them initially, in a way it was your justice to refuse associating yourself with the creatures that replaced your original creations.
Hypocrites, the one that they answer to are all hypocrites.
And the feelings further exacerbate as she feels your hand press against her back. Her shoulders squared as you danced with her, a faint melody from your quiet hum was the only rhythmic guide to this romantic tango of two lonely gods.
There is a sense of longing that stews within the waters of Teyvat, Egeria once told Focalors upon receiving the Hydro Gnosis. And now that she is in close proximity with you, the feeling was overwhelmingly palpable. Her chest hurts as it tightened with every step she took, following after your flawless footwork.
This was a tragedy in the making and Focalors was eagerly participating in it.
“Does it hurt?” She asks you, adoring the serenity etched into your face as a defaulted expression. “To have your name sullied by the injustice inflicted by the winners? That no human speaks your name and sings your praises?”
You flawlessly spin her away until she comes back in your grasp, “I am in agony,” you admit with a haunting smile, mirthless and still so beautiful, “Even more as I am reliving him through you.”
The pace picks up and Focalors hurries, having little time to catch her breath as she feels an unsettling pull wash over her. There was a desire to please you, as if your request cannot be denied outright. Maybe it was the world asking her to do your bidding, or maybe Egeria had programmed this into her very core when she was created as a mere Oceanid familiar.
Before she was even aware, the humming comes to a close and Focalors was bowing like you to an audience of nothing but the endless sea and the creatures that lurked beneath it.
You tilt your head to the side, “I hope I have relayed my feelings well enough to you.” You smile at her and Focalors’ grip on your hand tightens significantly.
You don’t say it, but she feels it. She has the authority of the everlasting waters — your tears, your agony, your pain. And it drowns her further and further until it suffocates her and dissolves her being, much like the dreaded prophecy she was tasked to solve by her predecessor.
Give it back. Give him back.
He was never gone. Focalors had not met him, but she knew of his existence. She knows what you want.
Focalors was blessed with great intelligence, and knew how to kill two birds with one stone. She had thought about it. She could solve the prophecy and fulfill your wish.
Focalors was a romantic as much as she had a flair for the dramatic. She loved humanity above all but perhaps her love for you exceeds that even just for a generous millimeter.
A quiet sigh escapes her lips.
“Applaud me for my performance once it ends, Your Benevolence.” She requested in a quiet voice, and she pities herself for feeling immense satisfaction from a mere wordless nod from you.
For you, who had accepted the humanity that Focalors loves, the archon would do the same. She would accept your selfish wish and make it come true, indulge in your quiet favor, be the one you will forever love and adore even in her death.
Haborym has heard of the tales of the great one. How the very world was shaped by your divine hands, like a sculptor carving out the features of your next masterpiece. But that was only after the First Pyro Archon had gained control over the Pyro Gnosis roughly a thousand and five hundred years ago, one that uncovered the existence of a will greater than the ones that ruled over them from above.
However, most of the people of Natlan remain blissfully unaware of one of the many secrets that the lineage of Pyro Archons have known by their succession to the heavenly throne.
They were unaware of Xbalanque’s great failure in gaining your favor. The failure of the first Pyro Archon that assumed the throne. And the next archons in line that failed after it.
It was much like the pilgrimage, once an archon, not only are they tasked to care for Natlan’s delicate situation against the Abyss, their people, but also they must try again to gain your favor. It was like a tradition, an obligation even — passed down from one archon to another, seeing how they can succeed in what Xbalanque, as great as he was, completely failed at.
Perhaps you were exasperated by the constant badgering for the Pyro Archons that came before Haborym, because somehow, before she could even get to you, you had appeared before her during the havoc that Khaenri’ah’s incident has wreaked upon your lands. You came to her while she finished wringing out every bit of life of any Rifthound that threatened the lives of her people.
She had exerted much of her energy, and though she had enough energy still for more confrontations along with the revered heroes of Natlan, you had come to aid her even for a second. She felt your cooling touch that soothed any aches that rooted deep within her from the abyssal creature’s devastating attacks. She is mostly certain that any normal person would crumble into dust if they even were swiped at by one measly claw of these things.
Regardless, that was the first time you and her had met. Haborym barely registered the truth in your identity before you swiftly disappeared.
And now confusion only grows more evident in her core as she watched you, sat atop the tallest valleys in Natlan’s many plateaus. You sat, cross-legged as you watched the nation slowly recover from its terribly huge loss. You seemed lax, for someone having witnessed the lands of your creation nearly succumb to the abyss. But you were hardly fazed, with your face resting on the palm of your hand.
“…I must extend my apologies.” You finally spoke, breaking the silence.
Haborym feels a sense of camaraderie, and oddly enough, it prompts her to sit beside you. Her fellow archons — whether within Natlan or among the other nations — have always placed you on such a high pedestal. However perhaps it was because Haborym was a human before she was… well, Haborym.
But the humanity that dwelled within her thrives and connects with what she can perceive as a small island of humanity within the seas of your divinity. It was small, but it was irrational, loving, and resentful, all emotions hardly any gods, much less a higher being like you should never be bothered with.
Haborym takes a deep breath before nodding, “I accept your apology.”
She thinks she’s doing better than the preceding Pyro Archons when she heard your laughter. Somehow, Teyvat grew a little brighter upon that single moment.
“I believe I have a hand in the failure of Natlan. The reason why your nation has suffered far more devastating blows was because of the weak constitution of the leylines,” you explained, and it was not news to her. It had been the consistent problem that hung over the heads of the previous Pyro Archons, and now hers.
Haborym nods. She doesn’t ask the question of why, and patiently waits for what else you have to say.
“I am certain you don’t need any explanation, however… I created this place without factoring in the possibility of your kind’s creation. Had I known, your lands would not have been the backdoor for the darkness that threatens to consume the lives of your people.”
You smiled a little, throwing a glance at Haborym, “…You must understand, I am a creator in belief that all good things must become bad… and all bad things must become good. I believe in the equilibrium of the worlds — that all must learn the essence of balance. It is why Teyvat is my masterpiece, because it encapsulates my belief.”
“Creation must face destruction, and destruction must birth creation. That is the essence of my samsara.”
Your words felt like a hint, and Haborym’s eyes dart towards the heart of Natlan, where the Sacred Flame burns bright and hot.
And Haborym was taught from a young age that a true god’s wisdom is never something to overlook.
You had to applaud the collective effort of everyone in Teyvat. Five hundred years later and it keeps thriving from the devastating cataclysm. And now you have met a fitting champion to wield your will. Though they only wished to see their sibling.
The Heavenly Principles finally did something right in setting the stage as your challenger.
Your gaze drifts from the piece of land in the unreachable parts of the sky, down to the tea that you were wonderfully having with the bearer of your tears.
Focalors was right — her performance was unbearably long, however intensely impressive. You had honored her sacrifice with a permanent seat in the dining table of your private sanctuary nestled within the dark seas of Teyvat, where only the seats were personally crafted by you and were only enough to fit the humongous forms of the dragons that once ruled over your world.
She, among the other divinities that were not of your creation, was the first to earn your respect and genuine love.
“Is the tea to your liking?”
You still find yourself looking up on instinct just to meet the sharp gaze of the Hydro Sovereign, only to look back down to see a human being as his incarnation. Though his piercing gaze was certainly not lost on you.
“Hot enough,” you mumbled, “Bitter enough,” you added, recalling the tastes of one divine puppet that found his way back to you through your golden champion and little Buer’s rehabilitation.
Neuvillette quietly basked in the grace of your being. You had not changed one bit. He had recalled your presence when you first met him within the little tunnel on the side of Palais Mermonia during his break, and after Focalors’ final act, he was consumed with memories of you when you first descended in Teyvat.
As the bearer of your tears, he was your sole confidant, something even his fellow sovereigns envied him for all those years ago.
“…I have many questions,” he prompted the conversation, refusing this first meet to be mere session of stewing in silence and basking in each other’s presence. It was clear how dear he was to you, but his memories that eluded him suddenly came crashing down certainly gave him a terrifying and confusing time.
You had nowhere to be, and the traveler was busy with their affairs and many other adventures.
“We have all the time now,” you chuckle, watching the tiny whirlpool in your tea after stirring in a pinch of sugar. “After all, reunions are meant to be focused on reconciling with one another, like two old friends who have lost touch for… thousands of years perhaps.”
“Though I understand my… old life… was subjected into being your confidant for eons to come, I must exercise my impartiality to you.”
You laughed, amused at Neuvillette’s words. Though you respect him as a friend, nodding along. A creation could never judge a creator — it is what many among your fellow artisans have believed. But you have seen when worlds have rallied against their creator, and some have managed to kill theirs for justice or desperation.
You once walked the world of a now deceased colleague, who created a world filled with oppression, where the waters do not flow, and the pantheon of that very world have sought to fight the very god that created them in the first place.
Cruel as it was, you relished in bathing in that artisan’s never ending tears, flowing from their closed eyes as their decapitated head became the new mountain that births fresh water to their creation.
Nevertheless, for hours, you were subjected into endless questions, interrogated from left to right by the Hydro Sovereign that wanted answers more than anything. You had the key and had willingly opened the chest to him, absolving him of the troubles that might have weighed down on him once he received the Hydro Authority that was rightfully his when Focalors killed herself before his eyes.
The questioning only boils down to two questions left. Significant enough for Neuvillette to base his new opinion of you.
However you only had one proper answer for one of them.
“…Do you detest the Heavenly Father for his actions against the new order?”
You had thought long and hard about it. You wandered Teyvat for years to understand what you felt about it.
And you had the proper answer for it.
“Nibelung did what he had to do,” your eyes glazed over, and Neuvillette follows your gaze. Before he could think you were being disingenuous, you focused your attention back to him, gazing firmly into his eyes. “I had thought I felt injustice and resentment for his… foolish actions.”
You picked up the teacup, savoring the bitterness that the liquid offered.
“However I came to realize that he was desperate enough to seek the forbidden knowledge. Only then was I consumed with guilt. I mourned him and you and your brethren. Apep despised me when I visited her in the desert of Sumeru.” You recounted with a quiet hum. “I know not of what happened to the others, but I understand that my inaction may have forced his hand.”
“I feel guilt and I will prostrate myself as an apology before you if you so wish,” you offered.
Neuvillette thinks it was a coincidence when he felt the same. Him and his fellow sovereigns could have defended the world you had generously gifted them before. But a terrifying thought comes to his mind that perhaps his role as the Hydro Sovereign had him tethered to you even in his own emotions.
It was his new crisis — whether or not he truly feels guilt or if he merely shares it with how well connected he is to you.
“Please do not subject yourself in such a disgrace. You are my creator.”
“And my creations have been neglected until their death,” you countered with ease and Neuvillette doesn’t know if it was his programmed reverence that stops him from contesting you or that he also feels that your words ring true.
You stood up from your seat, walking over to him, and he basks in your presence yet again, nearly losing himself like how Fontainians before he had forgiven them dissolved within the Primordial Sea.
You pulled him in a gentle embrace, his stiff posture leaning awkwardly against your midsection as he sat still.
Neuvillette could hardly pull himself together. Your affection feels forced, an obligation that had to be done to console him, and further puzzles him if you shared his emotions or if you truly felt bad for the guilt that he claims he feels.
“…Then, if it is guilt that you feel. Do you resent humanity for flourishing in a world that does not have an allowance for their existence?”
That one, you had no answer for.
Humanity is so beautiful, but you had come to learn that you were merely tolerating them.
Neuvillette feels himself stiffen as your warm body grows cold in this one-sided embrace.
He may be the one responsible for judging the archons and the heavenly principles that had done you wrong.
But he was never the one to call the shots when judging the fate of this world.
After all, an artist can orphan their work once displeased.
Neuvillette just got you back. And he is certain that though the archons were tied within the Heavenly Principles, they desired your presence more than the ones they were expected to answer to.
You had graced him with a subtle kiss on his forehead, loving and forgiving.
“Focalors had you convinced that humanity was worth it,” you mutter, “So it must be true that they have something to offer.”
He looks up to see a small smile on your face.
Empty. Haunting. Grim.
“…If one dead god can convince you, how many do you think would it take to convince me?”
And just like the sky, your benevolence has never looked more fake.
notes: please ignore the fact it took me a year to write this / it was originally only heizou and kazuha but i wanted more things to write
venti always managed to put a smile on your face as you two drank the night away at angel shares.
with the two of you tipsy, diluc had to slowly give you less alcohol to intake. it was cute seeing venti so desperately cling onto the wine bottle as the red-haired male put it back behind the counter.
you laughed, it was more of a drunken giggle, and venti let go of the wine bottle in an instant. your voice might’ve cured all of the trauma and hurt he had to endure as a small wind spirit, the wind slowly breezing through the establishment even with no open windows.
diluc took your wine too, replacing it with cold water and setting it down in front of you. “drink it, love.”
you grumpily sigh, pouting but nevertheless taking the cup into your hands and taking small sips of the water. you were calm around him, venti noted.
but love?
“oh master diluc, you’re so kind to my poor y/n..!” venti smiles, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and diluc frowned. you hug him back and he swears you can feel his fast-beating heart.
venti’s heart might’ve stopped sooner than he had thought. “you mean, my y/n?” diluc continued to clean glasses but the aura definitely shifted. he knew what he was capable of yet he didn’t care.
venti’s glare matched diluc’s while you’re still oblivious to everything being said.
“aww, diluc! you’re so sweet.!” you whine. diluc gives you a soft smile that melts your heart and hardens venti’s.
he lets go of you, not bothering to try to hide his obvious annoyance towards your words but you two are drunk—he’ll definitely forget about this later (he won’t).
he didn't mind staying with you outdoors. whether it's on the rooftop of the inn or a beautiful stop you convinced him to take you, xiao always managed to love your sense of adventure. it often came with hassles, of course.
you were an adventurer, you lived on the road, never settling down like xiao so desperately wanted to with you (not that he'd ever tell you that). you also got hurt a lot, a vision can only heal so much, and without proper care, he was sure you were gonna die in teyvat's mother nature.
you had a scraped knee, it wasn’t as bloody as he had anticipated when the inn’s owner had told him you were gonna die but way to make him rush, no?
you were sitting on a rock as he teleported right next to you. his eyebrows were furrowed and his lips were pressed into a thin line. he was worried.
aether was right in front of you, kneeling, which surprised the adepti. his gloves were off and his hands tended to your injured knee. xiao wished he could take his own gloves off, hold your hand as tightly as you hold his, not worried about his karmic debt going to you and eating you alive.
you wince and the blond in front of you rubbed your other knee, “hey, it’s okay. it was a simple scratch, nothing more.” he bandaged your injury and kissed it, like a mother would with her child’s ‘booboo’.
xiao looked at him. if you asked anyone who didn’t know him how he looked like at the moment, they’d tell you anger, disgust, contempt, or something in the lines of hate. they weren’t wrong.
his heart drops even further to his feet when you pulled up aether to his feet so he loomed over your sitting figure and kissed his cheek. “thanks, cutie.”
ah.
he helps you stand up from the rock and gives you over to aether. his hands, his gloved hands, settle on your shoulder and your waist, like a lingering hope that it was a simple tradition that humans did as a sign of appreciation. but he knew it wasn’t that.
he lets go of you, his hands in place as you hug aether. something so simple but so endearing made him sad. he’s giving you other to someone else. someone who could travel with you and protect you when you’re in need. xiao still has to help the people of liyue.
“i’ll be leaving now.”
alongside his fluttering and well-mannered words, he really liked you. kazuha stays up at night, looking up at the stars, wondering if you got home alright or if you ate something for dinner last night and such. he cared about you just like he would care about others but something seems off.
he'd pack your lunchs occasionally, taking his sweet and precious time to write a elegant note of how much you mean to him as well as delicious food! you must've been blind or uninterested to not notice his lovesick behavior.
on the crux, you and kazuha were simply talking the night away with a little drinking on the side. he clung to your shoulder as he slurred his speech, letting out some hums and incoherent hymns. it was cute, like your beloved thoma back in inazuma.
”you know… you remind me of home.” you say. kazuha looks up to look at you. the wind blows softly, brushing your hair in your face and he couldn’t help but fall in love with you more.
”may i ask why?” he manages to say clearly, his breath soft on your neck. you clear his thoughts, his past life in inazuma didn’t matter as long as he was held by you.
”the food you make, the lines you say, your smile…” kazuha swears he has heart in his eyes. your calm and collective words makes the samurai’s heart beat faster than before, his face almost as red as the simple strand in his hair.
“it reminds me of my boyfriend, thoma.” kazuha ignores whatever you said and clings closer to you.
”that’s encouraging to hear.” he mumbles. he still has a soft smile on his face. he’s not gonna let go of you now. he won’t let you go to inazuma. you can’t be in that wretched place, not the place that hurt him so much as an adolescent. you can’t possibly be happy there, your words have a different meaning, he gaslights himself.
“i’ll make you some breakfast in the morning if you wish.”
”that’d be nice.”
heizou enjoyed the time you two spend together. whether it’s on a simple date or a investigation he personally made, seeing you, being near you was all he needed to have a good day.
luckily for him, he had a day off today! kujou sara finally let him speed-run his work yesterday to get today off.
( kujou sara narrowed her eyes at the detective’s bold request. “you’re not plotting anything, right, shikanoin?”
heizou grinned. “of course not, sara! can’t a man catch a break?” he winked. kujou sara still had a face of suspicion but sighed after heizou didn’t stand down or retract his statement.
”i’ll allow it. make sure your work is tidy and you will have tomorrow off. just don’t do anything stupid during that time.”)
he met up with you, his signature smile on his face as he prodded right beside you. “hey, partner! didn’t expect to see you here.” that’s a lie. he may or may not track your schedule from time to time.
you turn, a bunch of sauce on covered your mouth. you were always a messy eater but those stains looked quick and rushed. you usually ate slowly, so you must be with someone—
”oh hey compadre!” that’s who.
itto only smiled as the smaller male looked up at him. you were with him, but why? did the oni invite you to eat? most likely, but—again, why? how did he know you, how did you know him; those are the answers he needed.
“if it isn’t mr. arataki! how’s your day?” heizou didn’t really care about the answer, as rude as it sounds. he just wanted to spend his day off with his beloved y/n but teyvat is so cruel.
”it’s been awesome! i woke up and then—“ itto’s voice was drowned out by his thoughts. he must be missing something, but what? he looked back at you, maybe you had a clue.
you watched itto intently, focused on his words with a smile. you two were close, but how close? collages, friends, besties? you chuckled at itto’s jokes, or what heizou assumed was a joke (he’s not paying attention to the oni, just you. only you).
“—and then i decided to invite my beautiful lover out to eat! and here we are!”
ding, ding, ding! there’s the answer! you two were—
…lovers?
he pressed his lips together before covering up his shocked face with a smile. “my, my, that sounded like a hell of a day! i’ll leave you two love-birds to it; don’t wanna get any tooth-rotting cavities from you two!” he laughed and you laughed with him.
heizou walked away with a smile and waved. you two waved back and he turned.
he never wished to be another person but maybe today is a good day to start.
the aranaras always seemed to follow the poor wanderer. whether he was carrying out a task from lesser lord kusanali or taking a simple stroll.
it was a tiring thing, making sure none of the aranara got hurt in the mission or ate anything suspiciously purple or blue. luckily you managed to keep them entertain while wanderer fought anything.
you let the small creatures play with your hair and hands, tugging them to either play with you or to divert your attention to them. “y/n-nara! look at hat-nara!”
he sat still on a log as a group of aranara’s sat on his lap and hat. his eyes were closed and you didn’t know if he was simply letting them do as they pleased or was asleep. you decided it was the former and just smiled. it was a cute thing, indeed.
what you two didn’t know is that they were hiding. hiding from the fungi that wanderer failed to detect and hunt down (he says that sounds too animalistic, but he basically locks his eyes on the target and doesn’t stop ‘till they’re eliminated). an aranara stepped into your arms, trembling.
“wanderer?” you speak, impatiently and anxious. he let out a small hum, not bothering to open his eyes. “you missed one.”
“missed one wha—“
before he could finish his sentence, the fungi rushed towards you. it was obviously angry, wanderer had just killed his entire fungi family! he didn’t even have time to drop the aranaras on him, let alone prepare to send an anemo-fueled blow to the monster before a green arrow hit it straight in its chest, followed by three little seedlings exterminating the fungi.
you were cuddled up with an aranara or two, trying to protect them before a hand found itself on your shoulder.
“you shouldn’t leave your guard down in a forest, you lummox; you’ll get yourself killed.” tighnari!
you instantly relax hearing his voice and you let go of the protected aranaras to hug him. you nuzzle your cheek on his own, tighnari’s ears rolling back and his eyebrows furrowing. “i thought i was a goner! thank you ‘nari sosososo so much!”
”yeah yeah, just make sure next time you check the perimeter of your resting place.” he patted your back twice before looking forward to the hatted fellow.
“wanderer. i saw your work on the fungi, i’m impressed but think strategically next time.” wanderer’s eyebrows were furrowed and his hands felt clammy. his eyes, filled with panic were replaced with a glare. who did this guy think he was?
“so you were following us?” he huffed and crossed his arms. the aranaras dispersed, leaving the three of you alone.
tighnari’s tail swirled around your waist as you continued to hug him for dramatic effect. he snarled, “i was doing a patrol when i noticed the fungi’s elemental trail. i knew y/n was near so i followed it for their safety.”
wanderer huffed again. it was clear he didn’t believe him but how did the fennec fox know them? he let out a small ‘right’ before diverting his attention to you.
you had a big smile on your face. “aww, tighnari! you care about me?” tighnari looks away but it’s obvious he did. it rubbed wanderer the wrong way.
“of course i do. you forget you’re my mate.”
wow.
wanderer felt his fake porcelain heart break. he was actually that stupid to fall in love with a mortal. he cursed himself, he swore he’d never do such a thing again, that he’d never love again, but he did.
[potential romantic: venti, zhongli, ei, furina, mavuika ft. neuvillette & scara // platonic: nahida]
Economy in Teyvat has recently been… less than stellar and you have had some certain huge adjustments. Mainly because when you accepted your work, you had to move to the city because that was where your place of work was located. Your line of work does not really want you flaking out on them, meaning you have to be close by when you are needed on certain emergencies.
And so, you had to look for listings on a living space. Most apartments were quite expensive, nothing your current savings could not handle… for like the first three months. But you had to scrap that, you’d rather not risk it, especially on possible medical emergencies that could put a dent on your bank savings.
But then, by some miracle, just a month before your new work starts, you found something relatively cheap — except the very reason why it is cheap is because the villa you will be living in will be shared with a couple of people around. Six to seven people, give or take. And that is not even including you.
You had decided to inquire, and to no one’s surprise, the owner accepts you after running a background check and getting your deposit. You’re already good to go and have been told that you won’t move in until a week later after the last few renovations are done.
You met with your landlord by then, and you are positively smitten — Mister Neuvillette is so nice and dreamy. You feel nothing but some intense catholic guilt for just imagining stupid things that involve him and you.
But this isn’t about you and him.
It’s about you and your really weird roommates.
VENTI
A musician, a composer, just an overall bonafide artist, some kind of member in an idol group that you may or may not be exposed to already — a soul like no other with one hell of a talent in drinking.
He once invited you to hang out with him on a patio, wanting your input for his new piece, you ended up drunk out of your mind with what you think to be the start of your liver problems and maybe the shortening of your lifespan.
Venti is terribly cryptic with his words and it takes every fiber of your being not to crack his skull open to just… understand what is going on with his mind. You tried deciphering most of the shit that he was saying to no avail.
He has a tendency to give you a quick ‘ehe ;P’ whenever he breaks your things, and he pays them eventually… in installments, one measly mora for each week, he tells you all the time about how he’s a starving artist with no mora to his name.
(He quite literally invited you and your other roommates to watch him perform a concert with his idol group, and you watched him get paid stacks for it — and of course, you made him buy you a new pair of headphones).
He owns a blue dragon he named Dvalin and it just floats around the tank like some washed up corpse. To this day, you don’t know if Dvalin is a plastic toy or an actual sea slug.
A huge troll — mostly to Zhongli, hassling him constantly about the ‘good old days’ and how Zhongli was so old and that he sure looks like it (probably from all his boring work, according to Venti).
One of the biggest shit talkers, but he is so cryptic about it that it takes a while for the target to understand, yes you have been on the receiving end at times but in good fun (like hiding his alcohol).
But he does shit talk anyone that does you wrong. Like any time you come to him just venting about this one person, he is quick to jump on your side and even quicker to say something so underhanded about that person that even you’re a little baffled. You and him are definitely a pair of gossip besties.
ZHONGLI
One of the more levelheaded residents in your little clubhouse arrangement. He is responsible, and extremely well put. He has the energy of either a good househusband or a grandpa, waiting for you with tea.
You got along fairly well, and you have unofficially promoted him as your encyclopedia since he seems to know so much, especially from his nation. A proud Liyuen through and through.
He has a regal aura around him, kind of like your landlord, but for some reason, you hardly see the both of them chatting or having tea. You once tried to set up an afternoon tea with him and Neuvillette, and both cancelled on you despite seemingly interested at first.
Come to think of it, you never once had him accompany you to Neuvillette’s office to pay rent — the rest always accompanies you, Furina and Nahida more often than the rest just to have some tea and chat with him. But Zhongli never did.
He is wise beyond his years, and has himself a job as a museum director. This man is a historian, you’re pretty sure with how much knowledge he has around the world. His room is always off-limits to Venti (which turns into your room becoming the drunk’s usual hangout spot that isn’t his room) because sometimes he takes home rare artifacts that could crumble into dust if anyone even dared breathing on it.
He has… odd friends. Really… really odd friends. You thought they were cold at first, but then you realized, the moment they started talking, they sound like regal idiots that are so awkward with talking, like they are not used to talking to people of your caliber (which is like… way below them).
A stickler for contracts, never did break them once. Any deal you make with him is written on paper. You still have a souvenir of a crude contact written in a Starbucks napkin.
Every time you guys go out, dinner is automatically on you. He always forgets his wallet at home that at this point, you consider giving him a chain for his wallet to not forget it.
He has a frog named Azhdaha and it hates you… and a bit of Zhongli too.
EI
Bless this woman. She is your purple wife, a hardcore recluse and gamer, going in her room for hours to just game. You’ve come to learn that Ei is a popular streamer and has once walked in on her doing so when you came to bring her dinner over.
You nearly got cancelled because apparently, her parasocial fans really dislike the idea of her having a possible caring partner that brings her food out of nowhere. They found your twitter quickly and some asshole was planning to dox you so they can hunt you down and punish you for stealing their ‘gamer wife’.
For some reason, even after that debacle, she makes you sit beside her at times during a stream and makes you ‘get along’ with her chat.
You nearly had a #[Name]IsOverParty a second time when you lightly directed her to the right direction when she was exploring the same game you were also playing just to help her, saying you were being condescending and that apparently it means you must not believe women can be gamers.
Ei cannot cook. It’s like her cooking just cannot exist in any type of universe. You were sure that if there was another universe where even she is an almighty ruler of a nation, she’d still be unable to cook.
You once made the mistake of asking her to cook you something when you were newly introduced in the house and she gave you the weirdest looking soba noodles. You swore it looked at you, but she had an expectant look on her face that you had no choice but to stomach it.
You and her are the epitome of the meme that goes like ‘x who just woke up at 2am’ 🤝 ‘y who is just about to sleep at 2am’.
Often these run ins turn into a 2am session of just binging shitty videos on the internet, or her trying to teach you the better builds for your Tarnished after you make yourself and her a bowl of instant ramen noodles.
She has a friend… Yae Miko, who is some… CEO of a publishing company. She terrifies you sometimes and you do not recommend being alone with the both of them, it is likely you will not survive for reasons… that are not to be disclosed.
NAHIDA
You were confused when you first met her. Actually, you even asked your other roommates if they also brought their kid. And everyone looked at you and said, “Oh yeah, that’s Nahida, don’t worry, she makes the best soup when you’re sick.”
And you were just genuinely perplexed about her existence. She is a literal child, but her mind transcends so much — you can even say it has a better mileage than Venti’s, but to be fair, he has borderline alcoholism to deteriorate his cognitive functions, so that probably wasn’t saying much.
She is the epitome of someone who either knows too much or knows too little and there is little space for the normal in between.
Also wise beyond her years… how many that may be. You wonder how she can pay for her rent or even afford to live without her parents… but apparently, it’s better that you know little about her origins, and that her family is with you and your other roommates (it was so hard not to melt at that).
So how can she pay for her share on the rent? She has a covert consultancy job in managing databases. For some reason, this kid is more tech savvy than you will ever be. Everyone comes to her to troubleshoot their phones and she is always happy to entertain them, provided that you let her make you try her candied al— akji… ajilenakh nuts. In all fairness though, they are pretty damn good.
Does she go to school? Technically? But she does it remotely, on her laptop, so there are hours within the day where the villa is so quiet just so Nahida can have her time with her, what you are sure, are university-level lessons.
She has a snake called Apep. It disappears from its cage randomly, and holy shit does it put everyone on edge. Everyone forgets Apep until she turns up three months later.
She has… a friend? No, a son (??), just… someone she supervises. And it’s the saltiest guy you’ve ever met. He’s an asshole but somehow you guys are casual friends that send each other the shittiest memes. He is… definitely well-connected. Nahida supervises him, he is in the same idol group with Venti and a companion of Zhongli’s (the emo one, you recall), and for some reason, he is tense and frosty around Ei.
You and her have tea parties together, with Furina usually and Zhongli. And she always accompanies you when it’s time to pay your monthly dues.
FURINA
Your darling wife in blue. She is actually also a popular figure in Teyvat. An opera singer who is constantly making the most groundbreaking performances in Teyvat. She is from Fontaine, so of course it is already very much expected.
For some reason, she is the only one with a discounted rent payment? Neuvillette permitted it, and when you asked him, he said he was looking after Furina and you just fell harder for the man.
Not going to lie, when you first met her, you were intimidated and a little standoffish. She was a star, a literal legend, a household name that even as someone who doesn’t dabble much in opera arts, you just… know her from the news.
But the moment you further got to know her, you had a cultural reset with how incredibly subdued and skittish Furina is. She is so easy to startle and extremely sensitive. You found out how much of a class act she is though.
The definition of healing her inner child. You walk into her room and you nearly got confused if it was Nahida’s or hers. But if not for the blue themed room, you’d have definitely mistaken her room for someone else’s. It wasn’t just… something you would ever expect from a star like her. Her room’s most distinct features were the four plushies that sat on her big queen bed.
A crab, a seahorse, an octopus, and a huge… thing. She said it was an Oceanid, made for her by the production that she starred a play in which was titled “The Little Oceanid”. You watch her snuggle with it when you would crash in her room just to give her some company.
She hates, hates, HATES, being alone. Not her thing. Not ever. You asked, and it was something about her being isolated for so many years despite the fact that she is a literal star. And because of that, your room gained a new tenant other than the alcoholic idol.
She has a close relationship with Neuvillette, hence the docked rent. They seem to go way back and she always joins you to his office when it’s time to pay rent. You once tried to ask her to put in a good word for you and she looked at you, offended, because she thought you and her were planning a long term cohabitation that was not at all discussed beforehand.
This goes without saying, but she invites everyone to her plays. Front row seats every time and it is just… magical every time she is out there, shining.
MAVUIKA
She is definitely the most normal roommate there is. But she’s also kind of popular? In a sense that she has a lot of connections. She has friends who are actually normal? People you can actually talk to?? No offense to Xianyun, Houzhang, and Jiehu.
Her friends come in to storm the villa every now and then. Your most memorable one was probably this Kinich guy and his rabid… dog, Ajaw. It tried to bite off any person that came close, and it won’t stop barking. Kinich calls Ajaw the yappatron and none dare contest such a name.
Other than in real life, Mavuika is also really popular online. Mostly because of her biker chick aesthetic. Apparently, the internet ate it up. How did they know? Ei posted a picture of Furina taking a selfie with her and Mavuika (and somehow your back was caught on the background picture too). Ever since then, her quiet 8k followers on Twitter and Insta blew up into a million followers.
The opposite of Zhongli. When you two go out together for dinner, it’s HER shout. It always is, somehow it evens it out, you’re not sure why. Of course, those dinners always involve you riding her bike with her.
You guys are the definition of bait. Absolute bait. You post each other on stories, which is just, hilarious because it leaves her fans always speculating. So far no one has decided on which one is it. Though in the end, as crazy as they are, you’re grateful Mavuika’s whipped fans aren’t really as terrifying as Ei’s. No one dared to cancel you and were just making some deranged comments of having a threesome with you and her. Well, now you’re not so sure which is worse.
There is an unoccupied room in the house, and Mavuika uses it for her home gym. She works out and you watch, but you always run away before she could drag you to join her. You tried, but her workouts are so intense, you’d literally rather have liver failure.
Undoubtedly one of the most caring roommate you’ve had the pleasure of living with. She is incredibly dependable and is just a warm blanket of a person. You once got sick and she’s there caring for you when Nahida is busy.
Mavuika is a street racer, and often wins it. You’re not really sure the ins and outs of it, but you’re pretty damn sure that she is, quite literally, loaded from winning those races.
You ask her why she’s still living with you all if she’s already loaded, she only shrugged and dragged you to her room, never to be seen again.
You say as you hold up an apple pie with a candle on top. Venti beams with joy and excitement, engulfing you in a huge bone-crushing hug. He came home after a tiring day and wanted to be with you, but seeing you there with a pie you made just for him with his favorite fruit and love in your eyes made him feel better instantly. "Thank you, Windblume," Venti said, burying his face in your shoulder, nuzzling his face on it.
"Of course, you deserve it, Ven." You say as you put the pie down to hug him back. He lets out a small shaky exhale as he takes you in by the hug. He knows this is silly, getting emotional over a small birthday celebration? He just can't help it; the love and adoration in your eyes just made him feel emotional. He's never felt this way about a mortal before, yet here you are. He adores you, every birthday of his only reminds him that you're aging and he's not. It hurts him that you'll be gone one day, but that's why he wants to cherish every moment with you.
"I love you, Windblume, I love you so much," He whispered against your shoulder before he pulled back a bit and peppered your face in small kisses. You laugh a bit at the kisses, "I love you too, Ven," You say as you both share a small kiss. "This is the best birthday ever, thank you," He said as he pressed his forehead against yours. "You say that every year," You smile as you close your eyes. "And I mean it every year," Venti said with a hum as he started to sway you gently.
"You're a sap," You chuckle as he hummed a small tune. "I am for you," He said as he kissed your forehead. "Now, let me try the pie you made for me," Venti said as he let go, turning his attention to the apple pie on the table. He blew out the candle and grabbed a fork to start eating it. Once he took a bite, he made a delighted noise as he grinned ear to ear. "This is amazing, Windblume!" He said as he continued to shove forkfuls in his mouth. "Hey, slow down! You'll choke!" You say as you try to stop him from choking on the pie.
"I'm not gonna choke!" He said as he kept trying to eat the pie. He was practically inhaling it, holy fattie. Eventually, you got Venti (the fattie) away from the pie and brought him to the bed to cuddle. "Happy birthday, Ven," You say as you place your chin on his head as he's tucked into your chest, your fingers running through his hair. He hummed in content, almost falling asleep as he mumbled a small 'I love you' before he drifted off to sleep, and you followed soon after.
includes: aether, kazuha, xiao, venti (separate)
precis: you often wonder how their adoring fans would react to seeing them in this state.
take note of: nipple play, semi-public sex, public sex, anal sex (giving), dom!top!reader, sub!bottom!aether, sub!bottom!kazuha, sub!bottom!xiao, sub!bottom!venti, rough sex, pegging (depending on reader), degradation (from reader), hair pulling, desk sex, chair sex, crying, belly bulge, spanking, finger sucking, riding, doggy style
reader gender: gn!!
voice mail: kiwi nonnie u genius ily. also random, but im back in my webtoons phase aGAIN
❦ aether - center + manager reader
imagine fucking aether backstage, hand over his mouth to prevent him from moaning and attracting an audience.
rutting in and out of him rapidly, while trying to avoid being spotted as you hide behind some walls. your dick filling his tight little hole as his clothes are crumpled by the force of your thrusts.
with how hard you're going, tears start trailing down his cheeks as him make-up gets smeared. mascara smudged and glittery eye shadow a mess, he definitely looks thoroughly fucked out now.
his moans start slipping out as you pull his arm down and shove your fingers into his mouth.
''be quiet. unless you want to be found.'' you ordered as aether started sucking on your digits in time with your thrusts, slobbering all over them.
you plow into him deeply as the shape of you cock shows on his stomach area. appearing and disappearing with every thrust.
'it's almost time to go', you think, speeding up as you pull your fingers out of him and rubbing that area where your shaft shows.
aether's walls clench around you as his sensitivity peaks.
hips stuttering, he comes all over himself with a high-pitched squeal as you empty yourself inside him. all he can do is shiver in pleasure.
''come, let's have your make-up redone.''
❦ kazuha - main dancer + trainer reader
pounding kazuha in the practice room at the end of the day, pulling his ponytail to make sure he makes eye contact with himself in the mirror so he can see how slutty he looks.
fucking him in doggystyle as all he can do is moan, barely able to walk with how rough you're being. he's being so loud that you're quite relieved it's already evening so the chances of anyone stumbling upon you is very low.
abusing his prostate with your cock as all kazuha can do it watch himself get pleasured until he's ruined.
stuffing his hole to the brim as you spank him hard and he clenches and tightens up.
''you enjoy being punished, huh? don't worry i can give you more.'' you laugh.
his face is flushed, tears prickling at the corner of his eyes as he tries to look away from the mirror.
''who said you could look away? i want you to watch yourself fall apart.'' you command as you tug at his hair a little harder.
you ruthlessly fuck into him as he lets out little gasps, your cock reaching so deep within him.
you can tell by his reactions that he's about to cum, so you thrust directly into the spot you know will make him see stars.
his back curves beautifully as he jolts for a few times, releasing all over the floor. however, kazuha doesn't look finished yet, 'perhaps it's the stamina of a dancer' you ponder.
''will you even be able to dance properly tomorrow?'' you ask.
''y-yes! please... please just keep going...''
❦ xiao - main rapper + producer reader
xiao sitting on your cock as you're on your chair, previously working on their music.
his back to your chest, you squeeze and twist his nipples as he grinds down on you. the fact that anyone can walk in on you two at this moment only has him squirming as he wants more.
''imagine if your fans saw you like this. your image would be ruined. who knew xiao would be such a whore.'' you mock.
he can't respond, so fucked dumb that he can only loll his head back onto your shoulder as his mind blanks.
you suddenly put a stop to your thrusts as xiao mumbles, ''w-why'd you stop?''. he truly sounds like a sex crazed slut.
''shouldn't you do some work too? start riding.'' you demand
xiao sits up a little straighter and starts bouncing on your cock, panting with his hands grasping onto your knees. every bounce pushing you a little deeper in him as his belly bulges with the shape of your dick. his tongue is loose out of his mouth as you land a spank on his backside, leaving a hand print.
he moves his small hands to grip onto the arms of the chair as he rides you harder, hair moving along with him. the sound of skin slapping against skin and xiao's slutty moaning filling the room.
he rolls his hips against you sensually as he can feel his orgasm approach, only getting tighter.
wanting you deeper, he positions his legs in a way where he's squatting on your chair, dick piercing straight into him as he trembles. he can feel himself cumming.
xiao's back arches as he orgasms, quivering violently and letting out one lewd yell as his nails dig into the arm rests.
he collapses onto your chest, eyes rolled to the back of his head, covered with sweat, legs spread with your cum dripping out of his hole.
"with how much you've screaming, i'm worried your throat will be sore tomorrow. i need to make sure you're silent next time.''
❦ venti - main vocal + executive reader
having venti bent over your desk in your office as papers scatter on the floor. he's too fucked out to even register that the door is unlocked and your walls aren't soundproof, sex being the only thing on his mind.
him gripping the edge of your table so tightly that he might leave scratches. you slam into him so deeply that it causes an outline of your cock to form.
pulling on his braids as you slide in and out of him, unrelenting pace.
''you've distracted me, you slut. take responsibility.'' you taunt.
''i-i'm sorry! i'll do anything... ah! just like that! harder!'' venti cries out, eyes watery.
''demanding me to go faster... are you truly sorry?''
he's quite a brat and always barges into your office to display his body, knowing that he'll always get what he wants in the end.
your thrusts only get rougher, punishing him. but you know, no matter how rough you went, he would enjoy it like the whore he was.
you plow into him as his backside starts to ache from all the friction and he squeezes around you, moaning.
with one last thrust, you empty yourself in him as he yells and goes delirious from all the sensations.
his mind is a jumbled mess thanks to his previous orgasms so he barely registers your words,
"you're being so loud... perhaps we should record it?''
